Hi everyone! We’re super excited to announce Gladio Rarepair Week, taking place from February 11th until February 17th, 2019.
Gladio Rarepair Week is a week dedicated to showing our favourite Shield some love by creating content featuring him in whatever rarepair your heart desires.
Prompt submissions are currently open and will be accepted for one week, ending December 4th, 2018! There will be three prompts for each day: a favourite fandom trope, a dialogue prompt, and a simple/one word prompt. Any prompt submissions can be sent to our ask box here!
For more information and guidelines, check out our FAQ page here.
Signal boosts and reblogs greatly appreciated! We look forward to your prompt submissions, votes, and content.
Summary: Gladio and Nyx attend a kink party—and it's leather night.
Warnings: None
Notes: A very late entry for @gladiorarepairweek, for the day 7 prompt of leather, and a gift to the dear @roadsoftrial. Beta’d by the wonderful @xylianna
Attending leather night at one of Insomnia’s elite kink parties isn’t something Gladio ever saw himself doing, but now that he’s here, a combination of excitement and adrenaline courses through his veins, all of his senses heightened by the mixture.
The fact that Nyx is slowly, carefully undressing him in the lounge area of the building’s luxurious washrooms might have something to do with his excitement, too.
“Six,” Nyx breathes, stroking Gladio’s chest from neck to navel with one leather-clad palm. He hasn’t bothered to take off his riding gloves, which hints at an eagerness that delights Gladio. He continues in a louder voice, “you look even better than I thought you would, which is hard, because this has been wet dream fuel for a couple months at least.”
Gladio chuckles. “Good to know. Wait ‘til you see the bottom half.”
Summary: This time Gladio could tell she was actually drinking from the way her throat moved when she swallowed. He felt sweat bead on his forehead and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable in the light. Six, he was a grown man, not a teenager.
Notes: Written for the @gladiorarepairweek Day 4 prompt “Drunk”. Also fulfills the 100 ways prompt “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” Beta’d by the ever-amazing @aliatori
Walking into the bar, Gladio scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. It had been a week, but tonight all the stars and planets had aligned to give him some downtime.
Gladio spun on his stool until his back was to the bar, leaning back against the polished mahogany lazily and sipping his cider. It was a quiet night, but that was to be expected hitting up a bar on a Tuesday. Sometimes it bothered him not having a normal schedule, but tonight was not one of those times. He didn’t mind the fact that he had his pick of places to sit, fast service, and no one bothering him.
“Hey.” Of course, think about how nice it was to be alone, and someone would join you.
Taking in the gorgeous, petite brunette before him, Gladio decided he didn’t mind being bothered. “Hey yourself.”
(Short for @gladiorarepairweek Day 1 - Marriage of convenience/arranged marriage.)
Pairings: Gladio/Ravus (eventual)
Rating: G
"You jest at my expense," Ravus says, voice flat. The silver-fluid grip of his hand is the only thing keeping his dinner knife from clattering uselessly to the banquet table. The handle is already dented, at a near comical angle: he's forgotten his strength again, they might say -- or he's lost the presence of mind to care.
His declaration echoes unanswered between the airy marble pillars of the hall. At the other end of the table, the Emperor delicately chews a small morsel of greens. The empty chair beside him where the Chancellor would have once sat goes unoccupied, unnoticed; at his right and at his left sit his advisors instead, half a dozen strong, none of whom say a word -- none of whom have deigned to eat anything substantial from their plates, the flutes of cool liquid between their fingers all the sustenance they require for a routine business lunch.
"You lead the Imperial army. Lord Gladiolus Amicitia is to lead the Lucian army," the Emperor continues, reaching for his napkin. "You will retain your separate commands, but your interests must be aligned. Your children shall be inheritors of both your titles." The Emperor's eyes never leave the tabletop. His voice never wavers, bland and smooth, as if he's reading lines from a manuscript instead of addressing a man whose life he intends to sign away. The advisors watch Ravus for him, their gazes sharp, faces as unmoving as masks.
Ravus finds himself at a loss for words. Children. This is meant to end their lines, the lines of the sons of Tenebrae and Lucis both, and claim their children for Niflheim. There will be no Amicitia heirs, no Nox Fleuret heirs from their union -- their descendants will be inheritors in name only.
Ravus had thought himself beyond outrage on behalf of his mother's household now -- what dignity did they have left? -- but his blood boils. Had the treaty not been enough?
Is Lunafreya not enough?
"'Tis beneath me," he manages. He tries to conjure the face of the man set before him to be his betrothed, and finds he cannot -- only vague memories of a hulking beast of a boy, shielding a cowering prince from view. A cowering king.
The true king, Lunafreya's voice sounds in his ear, soft and distant and clear like a bell. But the memory of the sound is bitter in his throat; he has not heard her voice for months.
"I see. Certainly, we can find another to take your place," the Emperor says lightly, and the shift of robes around the table tells that this is a jest indeed, at least.
Ravus shakes. "Would you have married General Glauca to the boy, had the treaty settled six months prior?"
"Had he lived?" The Emperor sounds cold now. "He would have done his duty with pride."
He would have. Another way in which Ravus fails to measure up to his predecessor. Another way in which he is to always be found wanting, even as they strip away all that had been his birthright, and all that he could have cared for.
"The Amicitia boy is nothing but a war-hound bound to a dying lineage," Ravus says, numb and hollow, knowing even as he spews the insult that it is a last gasp, the dying snap of a snarling animal -- that he must accept.
The Emperor raises his glass. Around the table, the other glasses rise slightly to match the toast.
"Then you are well-matched," the Emperor says, and takes a drink.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: FFXV
Title: Dance With Me
Pairing: Gladio/Luna
Rating: T
Warnings: None. Just a bit of teen angst.
Summary: It's the annual Crown City High Girl-Ask-Guy Dance, and Gladio has been turning down invitations left and right. Maybe he should just ask Luna to ask him so the other girls would go away. She's his best friend so everything would be fine. Right?
**********
My entry for @gladiorarepairweek, Day 7.
It might also fall under Day 6 (fake dating), but I'm not sure if it really qualifies. 😅
(Apologies for the photo snippet. It's hard to do stuff on mobile. Haha. Please head on over to AO3 to read it. 😘😉)
It’s been six years since the darkness fell, and Sania’s apartment in Lestallum is a small one-bedroom thing which she maintains with exacting care. There are few balms in this new world, and Sania’s most precious is a quiet space of her own. Well, ‘quiet’ apart from the occasional booming laugh, and ‘her own’ apart from Gladio, who has the run of the place, but those are minor distinctions.
Read on AO3
Chapters: 2/7
Rating: T
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Sania Yeagre
Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Sania Yeagre
Additional Tags: Background Relationships, the gang’s all here in cameos, even Noct who’s here in spirit, like Jesus in those ‘there’s always three people in the bedroom’ abstinence things, World of Ruin, Fluff and Angst, Hope, Lots of that, look it’s exactly what you’d think a take on WoR written by me would be like, Marriage Proposal, Alcohol
Summary: Gladio asks Nyx on a date. Well, sort of.
Rating: M
Notes: Written for day 4 of @gladiorarepairweek for the prompt of stargazing
Watching Nyx Ulric preen for a bunch of first year Kingsglaive cadets should not be as boner-inducing as it is, especially not when he’s lecturing the group on the importance of physical stamina in regards to magic usage, though Gladio admires the way Nyx expertly straddles the line between arrogance and confidence.
He’d rather Nyx be straddling something else. Hell, Gladio’d rather be doing the straddling, but his fantasies aren’t picky…
“Heads up, Crownie!”
Gladio snatches a wooden greatsword out of the air by the hilt, silently thanking his quick reflexes to avoid being beaned in the head by Luche. Cor had probably thought being assigned as the Crownsguard liaison to a Kingsglaive training exercise was punishment for a sloppy sparring session, and in a lot of ways, he had been right. What Cor hadn’t accounted for, largely because neither he nor anyone knew about the massive crush he had on Nyx Ulric, was Nyx’s presence making the ‘punishment’ a lot more tolerable.
“Keep it up and you can be my next demonstration volunteer,” Gladio calls to Luche with a smirk.
That’s right—just one week until Gladio Rarepair Week kicks off. If you’re a procrastinator like us, that means it’s crunch time, and if you already have your content ready to go, we’re proud of you. Either way, we can’t wait to see what you come up with.
If you need a refresher on the prompts, they can be found here.
