The Big Book Of Video Game Imagines

Late Night Confessions (Nyx Ulric/Reader) (Final Fantasy XV)

"(Y/N), open up!"

Nyx pounded on the door like a madman; his loud voice and his actions made the other occupants of the building peek out of their apartments to see what all the commotion was about. The sound of creaking doors pulled Nyx's attention to the others; he gave them his best intimidating look and they were soon back inside their apartments, locking their doors, and pretending as if they didn't hear or see a soul in the hallway.

The hallway was filled with a soft silence, giving Kyx some time to this. He stared at your wooden door with uneasiness and concern. You failed to report to the meeting with the rest of the kingsglaive and also you didn't meet up with him, Crowe, and Libertus at Yama's afterwards; Nyx and Crowe knew something was wrong, but Libertus brushed off your disappearance as a part of your laid back personality. Crowe tried calling you, but it would always go to voicemail; Nyx decided that him and Crowe would search for you. That's what lead him to your apartment at ten-thirty at night.

"It's me, Nyx. Come on, open up."

He pounded on the door once more, the force and pace of his fists knocking seemed desperate the longer he stood outside your door. He released a sigh of frustration as he just wanted to know that you were okay.

Nyx's misty ocean blue eyes drifted to the doorknob; the curiosity was rising inside him. Slowly but confidently, his hand came to meet the worn silver knb; he twisted it and it turned all the way, making his fear of your well-being rise beyond his assurance.

The door slowly swung open, revealing your dark apartmen. Kyx quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him, trying to keep your privacy. This was only the third time Nyx had been to your apartment, but the scene and the atmosphere made everything seem so foreign.

The smell of liquor was heavy in the air; he felt as if he was drunk despite not drinking a drop. The only other smell in the room was your perfume that you always wore. Nyx was about to step further into the one room apartment, but the sound of glass under his boot startled him. The remnants of the liquor bottles lay about your apartment, giving Nyx the thought that your little binge left you with anger, an emotion you rarely had. He could tell where the shards of glass were by the pale moon peeking in through the shades on the open window. Your furniture was all flipped and destroyed; they were ripped and some broken chair legs were lying amongst the rubble. Your personal belongings were strewn about the floor, wrinkled and ripped. Nyx did his best to stay optimistic about finding you, but his gaze spotted something that made all the blood drain from his face and his heart stop.

In the pale moonlight, right next to your bed on the floor, is where you lay, motionless, clutching a tiny paper to your chest in one hand while the other was outstretched above your head holding a empty liquor bottle. Your (H/C) locks covered your face; it was messy and it showed Nyz how much of a wild night you had.

Nyx relied once again on his curiosity to carry him over to your limp body. The glass beneath his boots crackled; he hoped the sudden noise would get some reaction out of you, but he was only left disappointed.

He dropped to his knees beside your body; his hands quickly brushed the hair covering your neck, checking for a pulse. His head bowed as he felt the blood still pumping through your veins. He shook his head as his hands retracted to his lap. As if right on cue, Crowe's voice came through his earpiece.

"You find anything yet?"

"Yeah, I found her."

"Is - is she alive?" Crowe's voice shook as she was starting to form false situations in her mind.

"Yeah, but she's pretty messed up. Something's been eating her up inside. It's bad Crowe..." Nyx assessed your body before him. You were wearing your chestnut leather jacket with a grey v-neck shirt. Your jeans were ripped and damp from the tiny puddle of liquor you were laying in. Your hands were bloodied and bruised; most likely from your little fit.