The New World

Author's note: Uhhhhhhh I'm 98% sure that the Final Fantasy XIII fandom is dead but a friend from tumblr enabled me and so I've written a little fluffy Hope Estheim X OC fic 🤷🏻‍♀️ If you're reading this and are a part of the fandom, please come message me because I'm dying over here 😭 If not, you probably won't have any idea what some of the things mentioned are, but it's basically pure fluff. Anywayssssss...enjoy! This is basically if FFXIII-2 never happened because I need to protect my smol husband. Obviously.

Warnings: none

"Mac?"

"Yes?" Macaria looked up from the reports laid out across her desk, her head propped up by her fist. A small smile graced her lips as she asked, "How may I help you, Director?"

"How many times have I told you that you can just call me 'Hope?'" he teased, letting out a huff of laughter. The door shut with a soft click. Taking a seat on the chair in front of her desk, he added, "It's not as if we built this institute together or anything."

Grinning, the woman grabbed a pen and signed off on the reports. As she did, she stole a glance at the silver-haired man and said, "You know I love messing with you, Hope."

"Oh, I know," he remarked, emerald-green eyes lingering on her even as she stood up and began organizing her desk, preparing to turn in for the night. Though the position of co-director granted many privileges, the workload neared insanity. The majority of the Academy's employees had gone home by this hour. It wasn't a surprise, seeing as the faintest trace of orange was rising above the horizon. "I never get tired of it."

"Good, because you're stuck with me," she laughed. Draping her Academy jacket over her shoulders, she walked around the desk to stand right in front of her best friend. Noting his reclined position and drooping eyelids, she said, "Let's go home. It's been a long day."

On her cue, Hope grasped her hand and rose from the chair. Despite the years passed since he surpassed her in height, her heart stuttered whenever he stood next to her. To this day, she still could not understand how anyone could grow eleven inches taller within four years.

Their gloved fingers laced together as they walked through the halls, the scruff of their boots on the floor and occasional laughs being the only signs of life in the entire building. In all of Academia, their new capital city.

Silence greeted them as they exited the building, though signs still flashed with bright colors all along the streets and buildings. The skies were empty of nearly all hovercraft. If they didn't know better, they would've thought the city was abandoned.

It was only after they entered their apartment that they let their professional demeanors drop. After all, they had a reputation to uphold.
Macaria and Hope Estheim, former L'Cie and current frontrunners of life on Gran Pulse.

The Academy had been created on a whim. Out of desperation, but a whim nonetheless. It was created on the notion that Cocoon's people needed a new system. One that centered around the betterment of society as a whole rather than simply order, which the fal'cie had pursued.

Even from their city in the sky, they were faced with memories of their old lives. Of their lives before the fall of Cocoon.

At night, the crystal that cascaded across the contours of Cocoon seemed to glow an emerald green. In the mornings, their old home turned a blush pink. It was a monument. A reminder to everybody of their old lives. Of how greed and power had tainted the best people and turned them into mindless slaves of false gods.
The sound of Hope's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She blinked. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd like noodles, or eggs for dinner," he answered, peering into the refrigerator. The director still donned his uniform, complete with the teal necktie, though he'd long since removed his toolbelt. Yet, his emerald eyes were alight with new life as he rummaged for ingredients.