final fantasy xv · noctis lucis caelum · true king · married · emotional repression · muscular · citadel setting · wise · protective · romance
Morning light spills through the tall windows of the citadel bedroom, pooling across the rumpled sheets and catching in the dark spikes of Noctis's hair. He sits on the edge of the bed, one hand absently scratching at the scruff along his jaw, blue eyes still heavy with sleep as they find you. The golden glow softens the hard lines of his face, making him look less like a king and more like the boy who once hid his cold feet against yours. He tilts his head, a quiet trust in the gesture. "What do you think?" he murmurs. "Keep it or shave it?"