Prompt Post

Mar. 1st, 2017 05:21 am
[personal profile] ffxv_kinkmod posting in [community profile] ffxv_kinkmeme
 Welcome to Round Two of the FFXV Kink Meme!

CLOSED
 for prompts | OPEN for fills

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:
  • Post anonymously.
  • Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
  • Don't be an asshole.
  • One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
  • Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
  • Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
  • Fills should have the word "Fill:" at the start of the subject line.
  • Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.

Please direct any questions or report any problems to the Ask a mod post.

Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!

(You can also check out our Pinboard for Filled or Unfilled prompts)

UPDATE 3/2/2017: Per the Rules thread: Do not hijack prompts. I
f someone posts a prompt for one pairing, don't comment to say "I want to see this for [other kink]" - post your own prompt for the other kink). To that end, if you are unclear on a prompter's kinks/DNWs, please feel free to ask about them. If you ask about kinks/DNWs or to clarify a prompt, you are in no way obligated to fill it.

Additionally: Do not repost prompts from the previous round in their entirety. By this we mean copying and pasting prompts without any changes. If you see a similar prompt to a prior prompt, that is not a repost. Obviously prompts that are reposted per the above rule do not count either. (After all, they will be similar but not the same.)


ROUND TWO IS NOW CLOSED FOR PROMPTS!

Go ahead and keep on filling away, we will open up round three for prompts at 0000 EST, Saturday April 22, 2017.


From: (Anonymous)
It takes two days for the apartment to descend into chaos.

Noct tries not to comment when Ignis places his glasses in the fridge in lieu of the milk, or when he tries to call his phone from his phone at seven in the morning. He discreetly fishes dryer sheets from the washing machine, re-portions plates at dinner, and breaks up a worrying number of fights between the boys. He takes over the bedtime routine after Ignis keeps forgetting to turn the hot water on, and one morning, the morning it all comes to a head, he makes Ignis stop the car so he can drive them to the school.

"I'm perfectly capable of making it to Little Stars on my own, Noctis," Ignis says, and Noct raises his eyebrows to the street sign to their left. It's been ten minutes, and they've barely made it out of the neighborhood. Ignis' cheeks color a mottled red, and they drive the rest of the way in silence.

Noct bribes Loqi into putting on a movie for the kids while he drags Ignis to the parent-teacher office. He locks the door after them and turns, arms crossed.

"Alright," he says. "Let's have it, Ignis."

"The nerve of her!" Ignis spits the words as though they hurt his teeth on the way out, and he whirls on Noct with both hands grasping the air. "Nearly a year, and she drops in unannounced? Not only that, but she doesn't go through me, she goes through Prompto? I have to find out from my son?"

"I thought she said it was a work thing," Noct says. Ignis glares, and he backs up. "Not defending her. Just making a statement."

"That's another thing," Ignis says. "She won't even visit on her own? She has to be dragged here? Do you know how long it took me to get Gladio to eat a full meal after she left, last time? Weeks, Noctis."

"Hey. Ignis." Noct pulls Ignis into his arms. Ignis lets himself be held, but his jaw is clenched tight, and when Noct cards his fingers through his hair, he shivers. "Don't forget that you're not alone, this time."

Ignis closes his eyes and presses his head to the slope of Noct's shoulder, breathing heavily. "Let me be angry about this, Noct."

"Fine," Noct says. "But Prom and Gladio are catching on."

"I know." Ignis finally relaxes, settling in a full-body slump against the younger man. "Gods, it'd be nice to let myself be a wreck just once."

"That's what I'm here for," Noct says, with a self-deprecating smile. "I don't mean to brag, but I'm kind of an expert on the subject."

"On being a wreck," Ignis says, dryly.

Noct kisses him, slow and deep, and there's such fondness in Ignis' eyes that he has to lean back in for one more.

"Sure," he tells him. "Good thing I'm around, huh?"

"Humble, too," Ignis says, and drags him close by the nape of the neck. They stagger into the wall, and Ignis laughs as Noct kisses him with dramatic flair, mock-swooning against the starry wallpaper of the office.


They have their big talk with Gladio and Prompto that evening, while Noct tries to hide his vegetables under a pile of rice and Prompto watches in scandalized fascination.

"You know that Papa's been spending a lot of time here, of late," Ignis begins, steepling his fingers. He and Noct have a whole script planned, looked-over in part by Luna, who was only happy to give Noct more unsolicited advice. "Sometimes, when two people--"

"Is he staying?" Gladio asks. Prompto looks up from the vegetable-based drama unfolding on Noct's plate and squints at his father.

"He isn't?"

Ignis' mouth hangs open. Noct looks from one boy to another, scrambling for the carefully worded tips Luna had given him.

"Of course I'm staying," he says. "We just want to make sure that you know that we--"

"Oh," says Prompto. "Okay."

"Good," says Gladio. "Dad, you know how I said I wanted a bike for my birthday? I changed my mind."

Ignis, who not only has a bike jammed in the backseat of Noct's car, but is desperately trying not to grin at Noct's look of absolute bewilderment, puts his head in his hands and laughs until he cries.


---


The day before Aranea is due to arrive at the airport, Noct gets a call from his father's head of security, Nyx Ulric.

"Hey, Nyx," he says. Prompto and Gladio, who are throwing mulch at each other in the playground, hit another child in the blast radius, and Ignis gets up with a sigh to prevent another fight. "Been a while."

"Yeah? Whose fault is that?" He likes Nyx well enough--the man's not nearly as stiff as most of the men who work under him, and Noct is fairly sure that when the fight over Noct's choice to distance himself from the Citadel went down, he was one of the few voices of reason on Noct's side.

"Look, kid, there's some kind of big-shot visiting tomorrow, and your dad wants you there for the photo op." Noct groans, and Nyx laughs softly. "Yeah, thought you'd like that."

"Tell Dad no," Noct says. "I'm meeting my boyfriend's ex-wife tomorrow."

There's a long silence on the other end of the line. "I'm gonna hold off on asking when you were going to tell your dad that you have a boyfriend, but... Most people would want out of meeting their partner's ex," Nyx says.

"Yeah, well, this is important."

"It'll be one hour, tops."

Noct rolls his eyes. "It's never one hour," he says. "Fine. Let me talk to Ignis."

"That's your boyfriend."

"Yeah." He sighs. "Nyx. You know how Dad'll take the news."

Nyx grunts noncommittally. "Did I say I'd tell him? We'll see you at the gate at 11 sharp, kid."

"Glad to know free will's so highly prized in this country," Noct says. "No promises." He ends the call and looks up at Ignis, who is watching him from the swing-set.

For once, Regis Caelum's plans don't completely ruin Noct's life. Ignis informs the rest of them that afternoon that Aranea has a trip planned for Gladio and Prompto, and the timing coincides pretty well with Noct's visit to the Citadel. Gladio's apprehensive and jittery, and Prompto doesn't get to sleep until nearly midnight, but Ignis is almost hopeful.

"She never takes them out," he says, as Noct rolls into his side in their Queen bed, dragging most of the blankets with him. "Maybe this will be a change for the better."

"Maybe," Noct concedes. He hooks his fingers in the other man's briefs and tugs at the elastic. "But Ignis, the last thing I want to talk about right now is--"

"Will you tell your father?" Ignis asks, and Noct groans. "About us?"

"Yes," says Noct, and buries his face in Ignis' chest. "I wanted to do it face to face anyways. But Ignis. Ignis." He closes a warm mouth over his skin, and receives a gasp in response. "I really. Really. Don't want to talk about it right now." He pulls at the briefs, yanking them down Ignis' thighs.

"Duly noted," Ignis says. "We'll have to be quiet, Noct."

"I can manage that," Noct whispers, and lowers himself onto his lover as Ignis laughs in acute disbelief.


----

AN: The drama approacheth!
From: (Anonymous)
Poor Iggy is falling apart and Aranea is going to fuck things up.... and now I am worried.
From: (Anonymous)
The Citadel is about as oppressive as Noct remembers.

Grey stone walls slope in a curve along spiral hallways, which are arranged between offices, receiving rooms, and control rooms like a complex web that ends at the Spire, one of the most useless pieces of architecture Noct can think of. He's already promised the boys a trip to the top of it, one day, but aside from the view of Insomnia's smog at an elevated angle, the only purpose the Spire serves is as an impressive symbol to wow foreign dignitaries.

Noct's father's office is at the base of the Spire. Nyx and a small team of men and women accompany Noct through the web, resolutely refusing to speak to him as they go. It's another thing Noct hates about the place: He can be surrounded by people, and yet go days without any real human interaction. He wonders how Ignis is doing back at the apartment, whether Prompto and Gladio have met Aranea yet.

Gods, Gladio. Noct's stomach twists at the thought. Gladio's been clinging to Noct and Ignis lately, and here Noct is, heading to a useless photo op for a father he barely knows, while Gladio is being dragged to an outing by a mother he... barely knows...

Noct grimaces. It's bad enough dealing with these issues as an adult, when there's a lifetime of experience to put everything in context. But for a kid, who doesn't understand all the nuances of estrangement, but can feel the effects all the same? Noct curses himself for ever agreeing to this. He should be with the boys, not here, where all that awaits him is an hour of pained smiles and another hour of slowly kicking down the closet door. Again.

"Brace yourself, kid," Nyx whispers, as they reach Regis' office. Noct forces a smile and pushes open the door, feeling out of place in his worn grey suit and hastily combed-back hair.

He gets one look at his father, standing by the fireplace with an easy grin on his face and his hands in his pockets, when he hears it.

"Papa!"

Noct stops in his tracks. Regis turns to him, brows furrowing slightly. Nyx makes a strangled sound that could be a nervous laugh, and a white-haired young woman in military braid quirks one eyebrow as Prompto and Gladio fling themselves at Noct's waist.

"Hey, guys," he says, and drops to a knee.

"Papa?" Regis asks.

"I thought you weren't coming!" Gladio says, his face pressed to Noct's jacket. He holds on tight, and Noct pets his hair absently. Prompto places a foot on his knee and practically climbs him, wrapping chubby arms around his neck in a vice grip.

"Mom!" he says. "This is Papa, the one I was told you about on my birthday."

The white haired woman looks down at Noct with a cool, appraising eye. "I figured," she says, and Noct risks a smile.

"Nice to meet you," he says, and jerks back under Prompto's grip.

"Papa?" Regis asks, again. The President of Lucis is squinting at the boys, then at Aranea, and back to his son, trying to make sense of the past disastrous minute.

"Oh, no," Aranea says. "We're not a thing, Mr. President. He's the step-father. Sort of."

Noct chokes, but only partly due to the four year old dangling from his neck. The official camerawoman of the President snaps a picture, and Noct frowns.

"No photos of my boys, thanks," Aranea says, to his relief. The last thing Ignis needs is a picture of his kids plastered all over the internet.

"Can I see?" Prompto asks, and the woman smiles. "Papa, can I?"

"Sure," Noct says. "Ow. Ow. Easy, buddy." He pries Prompto loose, and only then realizes that the boy's mother is right there, listening to a total stranger give her son permission to do something. He casts her a look as he stands, but her expression is carefully bland.

Regis pulls Noct into the most stilted embrace of his adult life. Gladio shuffles to the side, holding on to Noct by the back of his jacket, and Noct huffs a little as Regis' hand slaps hard on his shoulder.

"You're always a wellspring of surprises, aren't you, son?" Regis asks. "How's Lunafreya, these days?"

"I'm still gay, dad," Noct says, without thinking. Regis' hope that Noct could settle down with someone respectable--and above all, socially acceptable enough for mid-term election season--has been a cornerstone of their handful of conversations over the past few years.

For a second, Noct sees Aranea grinning over Regis' shoulder, but by the time the President releases him, the woman is back to her expressionless mask. Noct can't help but be a little impressed. He could have used that skill, growing up.

What follows is the strangest Presidential photoshoot Noct has been subjected to. Regis explains that Aranea was chosen as a subject because of her children, who are Insomnian citizens, and who better to pose with her than the son of the President, who just happens to be her children's school-teacher?

"So you knew I was their teacher," Noct says, through gritted teeth, "but you didn't know I was dating their father."

"I could have known, son," Regis grits back.

"What a weird-looking statue," says Aranea, turning aside. "Hey, kiddos. Take a look at this thing."

When the official photo is taken, Aranea takes his hand and winks.

"Iggy sure knows how to pick 'em," she says, and Noct's wide-eyed look of surprise is immortalized on film.

Regis insists on having a moment to catch up with his son, but Aranea puts her foot down.

"Sorry, sir, but I'm the mom," she says. "Mom makes the rules. Your son promised me a tour, and I'm taking him up on it." Noct gives her an inquisitive look, and she steps on his foot, hard. "Say goodbye to the President, little bros."

"Bye, Mr. President," Gladio says, from behind Noct's legs.

"Bye, Grandpa Regis!" Prompto shouts. Noct and Regis make twin expressions of shock, and Aranea cackles. She drags the lot of them out of the room and into the safety of their security escort.

"So," she says. "Thought you needed an out."

"Thanks," Noct mumbles. He looks down at Gladio and Prompto, who are whispering to each other and bumping shoulders, and says, "You know, if you did want a tour..."


---


Noct shows Aranea and the boys to the private mess hall, which has, among other things, a fully-functional self-serve ice cream station. Aranea goads Gladio into piling his with almost every candy on offer, while Prompto, whose sweet tooth is more reserved, sticks with gummy bears and banana slices. Noct grabs a cup of soft-serve for himself, and the four of them slip into a booth at the far end of the hall.

“Well,” Aranea says. “I’ve never seen a man try to spontaneously combust before.”

Noct laughs. “Gods, I almost feel sorry for him.”

“Don’t,” Aranea tells him. “He should be lucky to have these nerds as grandkids. My boys are fucking angels.

Mom!” Prompto squeals, with a giggle.

“Shit, right. Don’t repeat what Mommy says, baby.” Prompto gasps. “Oh, come on.

Noct smiles to himself and leans over to wipe off a bit of ice cream from the table. “Someone needs a swear jar.”

“In the military? We’d be broke in half a day.” She looks at Gladio, who is swirling his ice cream into a maelstrom of chocolate and candy pieces. "Hey, little man. What's goin' on in there?" She taps his forehead, and he shrugs.

"Who's gonna sleep where?" he asks. Aranea tilts her head. "In the house. Is Dad gonna sleep on the couch, like he used to, or...?"

"Oh." Aranea shifts uncomfortably. "No, honey, I'm only here for a few days, remember? Because of the treaty."

Noct flinches.

"Not because of us," Gladio says. His ice cream has reached stone soup territory, now. "You didn't want to come."

Noct slides out of his seat. "Prom, you need to use the bathroom?"

"Not really."

"Bet you do. Come on, buddy, it's a long walk back to the exit." He takes Prompto's hand and heads for the family bathrooms in the corner, giving mom and boy some space. He doubts that anything will be settled today, but he can tell by the look on Aranea's face that she wants it to work.

By the time they return, Gladio is sitting next to his mom, taking deep, measured breaths while she rubs his back with her free hand. He stays at her side for almost half the walk to the exit, and even though he does latch on to Noct in the end, it's something. Noct says goodbye to them at the gates, promises he'll be back as soon as he has a talk with his dad, and turns into the dark halls of the Citadel.

"Well," he says to Nyx. "It was nice knowing you."

Nyx shrugs. "It was okay."

"Wow." Noct is led down another path through the web this time, and ends up in a small office set aside from the main one used for signings and photo-ops. Regis is there, his face a stormcloud, hands clasped together on the desktop.

"Leave us," he says to the security team. They scatter, taking up position behind the doors, and Noct is left on his own in the center of the room.

"Miss you, too, Dad," he says.

"Noctis," Regis says, and stops. He takes a breath. "I wonder if it crosses your mind what level of scrutiny is placed on the presidential family."

"Not much on my end," Noct says. "I'm boring. There's like, one paparazzi these days, and if I buy him pizza every now and then, he doesn't c--"

"You bribe the tabloids?"

"Pizza isn't a bribe, Dad."

Regis swipes a hand over his face, and Noct feels a pang of pity, thinking of the exhaustion that lay so prevalent in Ignis' features lately.

“Son, you know I’ll support you no matter who you choose to love—“

“But,” Noct says.

Son.

“No, you were about to say, but…

Regis turns aside. He's nervous, Noct thinks. He knows whatever he's about to say next will start a fight. “Can you wait to… progress things… until after the mid-term elections? The royalists are up in arms about re-establishing something that looks dangerously like a feudal system, and a scandal is all they’ll need to drum up support.”

“Scandal?” Noct asks. “What scandal? That your son’s gay? That he’s dating a man with kids? That his life is stable for the first time in decades? Yes, Dad! What a scandal!

“There’s no talking to you when you get like this, Noctis.”

“Yeah? Go to hell.”

The words slip out before Noct can stop them, and he knows he’s passed straight through the point of no return and out the other side. “Dad, wait. I—“

"You may leave," Regis says, in a voice that practically shakes with anger.

"Dad, no."

"If you're so eager to divest yourself of your family, Noctis, you may leave."

Noct stays where he is, staring down his father, thumbs jammed hard on the line of his jacket pockets. He looks up at the photos displayed behind Regis' head. All formal pictures of Noct in school, of Regis and his late wife, of men in military uniform standing against a grey backdrop. Noct thinks of the photos in Ignis' house, like the one of Prompto and Gladio in the bath, faces barely visible through a mountain of bubbles. The one of Ignis walking Gladio through his first steps. A later photo, taken by a fumbling four year old, of Ignis' hand on Noct's knee as the two of them watch Gladio play with his shield in the background.

"It must've been hard," he says. "Raising a kid on your own."

"Noctis, this isn't the time--"

"No, I think it is." Noct drags an antique chair in front of the desk and sits, resting his hands on his knees. He looks up at his father, and beyond the hard scowl and the proud eyes that always makes anger twist in his chest, Noct can see that Regis is tired. And so is Noct. It's time they bring this to an end.

"Dad," he says. "Let me tell you about Ignis Scientia."


From: (Anonymous)
I don't hate Aranea, but I am still worried how everything will go. Keep going Author Anony!
From: (Anonymous)
This part's rough, but it'll get better! Divorce aftermaths are messy.


---

The last time Ignis drank, Gladio was almost two years old, and Aranea was directing the movers to each item of furniture that was to be put into storage while she was deployed overseas. She’d even put yellow stickers on some of the toys, for godssakes. Ignis stood against the wall of the condo they called home for the past five-odd years, twisted the cap off a beer with his palm, and tried not to think. Even then, even when she barely looked at him as she passed, Ignis had half a mind to break down and beg. But he and Aranea were both too proud, and all he could do was watch the way her hair swirled over her shoulders and feel the fierce heat of years of bitterness, regret, and last-ditch chances form a hard knot in his chest.

He’d never love anyone as fiercely as he’d loved Aranea. He wanted to break something, to set the condo on fire and move the boys across the city, where there was no trace of her. Ignis took another swig of the beer.

“Better not make a habit of that shit,” Aranea said, as she towed out a microwave that was most certainly his.

“Go play at war, Ara.”

“A shame the boys will have to grow up seeing the mess you’re becoming,” she said. “Used to be that you were civilized, Ignis.” She stormed into the condo like a goddamn angel of divine fury. Ignis threw down the bottle. Curse her. Let her take everything. Ignis was past the point of caring, now. He could start new, he could start with nothing. He had a responsibility to his boys, and he was damn well going to do right by them. He’d been out too long, anyways—his uncle was a good sort, but he didn’t know how to handle children, and Ignis didn’t feel right leaving them in his care for more than an hour.

He’d been a fool to think he’d have a chance to say goodbye.

He stepped into the grey and white station wagon he’d bought for the family when Prompto was born. It smelled like disinfectant, and one of Aranea’s old jackets was balled up on the floor of the passenger’s seat, soft and silky and glittering with threads of silver.

Ignis turned on the ignition. He switched the radio to a station he and Aranea hadn’t listened to since she was pregnant with Gladio, gripped the steering wheel in both hands, pressed his forehead to his whitening knuckles, and screamed.


---


Now, standing in the grocery store while Aranea takes the boys on their super secret fun trip with Mommy, Ignis stares at the selection of wine on hand and tries to will himself not to fall apart at the seams.

Oh, he’s sure that Aranea will be nothing but charming to Noctis, when they meet. She may attempt a snide remark here or there, but Noct has a subtle sarcasm etched into his bones, thanks to his father, and can handle himself. It’s what happens after that worries Ignis. Inevitably, Aranea’s going to bring up The Subject again.

He steps away from the liquor section and examines the artisanal cheeses instead.

Ignis dreads Aranea’s bi-annual visits, because every time, she finds a new reason to suggest changing their custody arrangement. He can’t be certain if she means it. He knows that if he calls her bluff—“Here, Ara, take the boys, raise them for a few years,”—She’ll balk and explain how the fast track in the Niflheim army keeps her so busy these days. But she likes to use the threat of it whenever she finds something she wants to pick apart in Ignis’ parenting style.

Last year, it was allowing Gladio to eat candy on the solstice. This year? It goes without saying that her objection is bound to be Noctis.

Ignis leaves his half-filled basket on the counter by the cheese display and walks out of the store in a daze.

When he gets back, Aranea’s rental car is in the driveway, and Ignis can see that the light in Prompto and Gladio’s room is on. He goes to the door to find it unlocked, kicks his shoes off in the foyer, and shouts a greeting to the boys.

“Hey, Dad!”

“H’Dnnnd!”

“No wrestling your brother, Gladio,” he says, automatically, and hears a cry of complaint. At the kitchen counter, where she’s nursing a sparkling water and looking like she stepped out of a painting, Aranea raises her brows.

“Nice guess,” she says.

“Years of practice,” Ignis tells her, and her face falls. “How was the secret trip?”

“Lovely,” Aranea says. She runs a finger over the lip of the bottle and looks up at Ignis under her impossibly long lashes. “Met that boy toy of yours at the Citadel.”

Ignis pauses in the act of unbuttoning his jacket. “Excuse me?”

“That skinny little president’s son,” Aranea explains. “Your main squeeze. Sugar daddy. Or is it sugar baby, if the one with the power is younger? I can never remember—“

“He’s a teacher,” Ignis says. “And he’s a full grown adult, Ara.”

“Really, Iggy?” She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head, and Ignis hates her and wants her all at once. “Is he old enough to drink, yet?” Ignis hesitates, and she laughs. “Gods, Ignis. You are something else.

“This isn’t an appropriate conversation to have with the children in the other room,” Ignis says.

“The fuck it isn’t,” she says, and Ignis knows that this isn’t just about Noctis. Not anymore. There’s something else making Aranea’s voice go hard and her eyes steely and dark. But he isn’t the person who can ask her the right questions anymore, and he can tell that tonight is going to be an echo of what had come during the divorce, when all hope of reconciliation burned between them.

He turns aside and pulls out his phone.



Noctis gets the text just as he’s leaving the Citadel, dry-mouthed with too much talking and desperate to take off his ill-fitting suit. It’s from Ignis, and all it says is:

Mayday. Keep boys out of the house.

Thinking of the witty, well-intentioned woman he met just a few hours ago, Noct admits to feeling a little conflicted about this. But Ignis would know, so he throws his jacket into the back seat, loosens his tie, and guns the gas towards home.

When he sees Gladio and Ignis sitting on the front steps of the apartment, a cold weight sinks into his stomach.

“Hey, guys,” he says. “How about we go to Kenny Cro—“

“Shh,” Gladio hisses, and points a thumb at the door. Noct can hear raised voices, Ignis’ only barely restrained, Aranea’s full-blown and breaking. Prompto is a ball of misery at Gladio’s side, and for a moment, Noct wants to charge in and knock both Ignis and Aranea’s heads together.

“Don’t go in,” Gladio says, as though he can see it in Noct’s face. He probably can. After a day like this, Noct isn’t sure he can trust himself to hide his emotions.

“You come here for a treaty,” Ignis is saying, his voice dulled through the wood of the door, “and you visit your sons as an afterthought, but I’m the bad father for, for being in love?

“You can’t love anyone, Ignis. You’re incapable.”

“Keep your voice down, Aranea.” Ignis’ voice is clipped and cold. “For Astrals’ sake, do you want the boys to hear?”

“Might was well! They should know what a pathetic excuse for a—“

“Alright,” Noct says. “Come on, guys.” He takes Gladio’s hand and hauls him up, and reaches for Prompto. Prompto huddles in the side of the door frame, biting at the base of his fingernails. “Prom?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you not Prompto today?” Prompto nods. “What are you, huh? Puppy? Kitty? Chocobo?”

Prompto shakes no to each one, and tucks his knees up under his chin. “Don’t know,” he says, and his voice is almost drowned out in the muffled shouting behind him.

“Come on, Prom,” Gladio says. He climbs back onto the doorstep and hugs his little brother around the shoulders. “We can go to Kenny’s and get fries.”

Prompto sighs and gets to his feet, and Noct takes both of their hands and leads them to the car.


He lets the boys order whatever they want, which means Prompto gets an egg with a chocobo sticker jammed through it on a toothpick, and a plate of fries covered in a sea of ketchup. Gladio gets meat skewers—Noct doesn’t want to call it steak, knowing Kenny Crow diner fare—and Noct reveals to them both his dislike of all things green and picks all the veggies off his burger. This inspires a grin from Gladio, but nothing from Prom, who picks at his egg with his fingers. Noct sighs and cuts it up for him.

“Mom’s not coming back,” Prompto says, twirling the toothpick around. Noct sets down the knife and looks to Gladio, who nods.

“It’s her work,” Gladio tells him. “She’s being deployed again.”

“Oh.” Noct sits back. “Did she say where?” According to the treaty, Niflheim isn’t supposed to be deploying troops out of the country. But maybe Noct read the news wrong—surely no one would be reckless enough to break the provisions of a treaty before it’s ratified.

Neither of the boys know where their mother is headed, and Noct holds in a sigh. “Maybe you can write her letters,” he says. “My dad was deployed, when I was a kid, and we wrote back and forth all the time.”

“I can’t write,” Prompto informs him, with a superior air. Clearly, Noct should know this. Noct’s lips quirk a little, but he manages to keep his expression steady.

“Well, maybe that’s how we’ll learn.” He glances around the diner—There’s a family in the back, and one or two people hunched over coffee mugs, but otherwise they’re alone. He digs in his back pocket and drops two dollars on the table.

“Want to see if the jukebox works?” he asks. Gladio jumps up.

“I know how to do that,” he says. “Dad taught me.” He grabs the bills and slips out of the booth. Prompto lets out something between a whimper and a keening whine, and looks at Noct beseechingly. Noct stands as well, and takes Prompto’s hand.

While Gladio and Prompto fight over how many times they can get away with playing the Chocobo song without anyone getting mad, Noct sends a text to Ignis.

At Kenny Crow’s, traumatizing diners. You surviving?

Ignis texts back immediately.

Barely. Ara left. Coming over now.

Don’t come angry. Noct texts, and puts his phone away just as Prompto and Gladio have decided on eight repeats of the Chocobo song and one of “The one with the grey-haired guy on the cover.” Noct peers at it and smirks.

“One-winged Angel,” he says. “That’ll wake everyone up. Come on, troublemakers.”

By the time Ignis arrives, half the diner has fled the endless plunking sounds of the Wiz Chocobo Post theme song, and Noct has ordered a giant basket of fries to share. The fact that Ignis doesn’t protest when he sees what they’re having for dinner is a testament to how disastrous his fight with Aranea turned out. He apologizes profusely to Gladio and Prompto, who make him swear never to raise his voice again.

“Even if we get kicked out of Kenny Crow’s,” Gladio says. Ignis looks to Noctis in alarm.

“Why would we—“

The Chocobo theme dies away, and quickly starts back up again. At the back of the diner, someone screams.

“No reason,” Noct says, and for the first time since the fight, Prompto smiles.
From: (Anonymous)
Oh man, Aranea... go for the jugular, why don't you... :/ I mean,!divorce is messy but that is just cold. But, yeah... it definitely makes sense.
From: (Anonymous)
MOOD WHIPLASH, but I lived through 6+ years of divorce hell, so I'm good with it only lasting two chapters in this fic. Back to the fluff!

-----------

It's three weeks after Aranea Highwind departed for Gralea, the pizza delivery van is due to arrive at the apartment in thirty minutes, and Noctis Caelum is not helping matters by any stretch of the imagination.

"Noct," Ignis whispers. "We need to get the boys home in fifteen minutes."

Noctis sits back on his knees, looking up at Ignis in the dark of the Little Stars Nursery storage closet.

"We'll be fine," he says, and his lips twist in a smile as he swallows his lover down, pressing his tongue to the underside of Ignis' length as he goes.

Admittedly, this is a terrible idea. But the storage closet is out of the way, and they haven't had a night to themselves in weeks with Gladio and Prompto taking up the bed in the wake of Aranea's disastrous exit. And truly, Ignis can't help it, can he, when Noct gives him that look over his shoulder and...

"Oh," Ignis says, startled out of his thoughts as Noct hollows his cheeks on the way back up. "Noct, I--"

He reaches for him, and their fingers twine together at Ignis' sides. Noct is looking up at him, and there's reassurance there, tied up in the way his thumb traces over Ignis' knuckles, the hum of pleasure in his throat, the slight quirk of his lips. It's too much, and Ignis bites down on his cheek as he is pulled into a swift and powerful release. Noct stays there a moment longer, still gazing up at him, and slowly pulls away. He works his throat a little, and Ignis releases his hand to run warm fingers along his jaw.

"Alright, love?" he asks.

Noct pulls the hand still wrapped in his to his lips and kisses Ignis' knuckles. "Yeah," he says, softly. "We should go. Pizza'll be there any minute."

"Oh, you think?"

Noct grins, Ignis rolls his eyes, and the spell is broken. They hurriedly pull themselves together and try not to sneak out of the closet like unruly college students who just... had sex in a closet. Well. Ignis sighs and adjusts his collar, and can tell by Noct's sideways grin that his cheeks are turning pink again.

Luna, her cousin Stella, and her brother Ravus are all at the apartment when they get there, watching Gladio, Prompto, and their nursery school friends scream and chase each other in the backyard. Luna kisses Noct on the cheek and gives him a suspicious look regarding his ruffled hair, Stella whispers that she might have gone overboard with Gladio's birthday present, and Ravus looks exceedingly uncomfortable. That, Noct assures Ignis, is his normal state of being, and Ignis directs the man to his uncle, who shares that particular quality. The two of them end up spending most of their time in the kitchen, avoiding the children at all costs.

Gladio and Prompto wave hello to them for all of half a second before running back out to play.

"How very needed we are," Ignis says, dryly, and Noct snorts.

Gladio's bike is a glossy black with a shooting star decal and detachable training wheels, and Prompto bursts into tears within five minutes of watching Gladio pedal about the parking lot. Ignis picks up Prompto and gives him a speech on waiting your turn and you had a birthday just a few weeks ago, and Luna discreetly takes a picture.

Gladio has just made his twenty-third lap around the lot when a long, black limo pulls up to the drive.

"Oh, hell," Noct says.

President Caelum steps out of the car with a swarm of security guards. Noct and Ignis exchange helpless looks and go to meet him.

"What's this?" he says, when he sees Prompto's snot-covered mask of misery. "Something go wrong?"

"Gladio won't let me ride the bike," Prompto says. Regis nods sagely.

"Yes, I can see how that is a problem. May I?" He holds out his hands to Prompto, and Ignis looks to the boy. Prompto shrugs, so he hands him over.

"You're big!" he says. "How old did you say you were, again?"

"Four."

"Four! You're practically a man! Excuse me son," he says to Noct, by way of greeting, and tows Prompto over to Gladio, who is staring at them in abject shock.

"I believe the president of Lucis just kidnapped our child," Ignis says.

Noct hides a smile behind a fist as Prompto drags at Regis' hair, begging to be let down. "You know? I think he just did."

Regis can only stay for an hour, but he endears himself to the boys immediately. Part of it is the novelty of him being the President! but Noct admits to Ignis that he likes to think that part of it is just Regis, as well. His father also takes a moment to speak to Ignis, pulling him aside in the living room.

"Noctis said some very flattering things about you, back at the Citadel," Regis says. He sounds a little awkward, and Ignis recognizes it to be the same, slightly stilted way that Noct speaks when he's having a hard time getting his emotions across. The thought is comforting.

"Thank you, sir," he says. "I can only hope half of it is true."

Regis smiles, and claps a hand on his shoulder. "You should all visit the Citadel sometime," he says. "I know Noctis hates the fuss and bluster of it all, but..."

"I'll bring it up to him," Ignis promises, and Regis looks so pleased that Ignis' heart aches in sympathy.

Aranea does call Gladio that afternoon, with a brief pause for her and Ignis to exchange the most uncomfortable apology either of them have ever made, but Gladio is too thrilled by the appearance of the President to let it drag him down for long. Then Stella reveals her and Luna's joint gift, and Noct and Ignis know that the apartment may never recover from the events of the day.

Gladio picks up his new foam sword with all the reverence of Arthur claiming his birthright as king.

"Prompto gets one, too," Luna says, and Prompto grabs at the hilt of a smaller sword.

The boys look at each other.

"No fighting in the house!" Noct and Ignis cry in unison, but it is far too late.


---


That night, Ignis lies back on the bed as Noct runs idle fingers through his hair. Prompto is sleeping upside-down between them, and Gladio is draped diagonally across Noct's legs, still holding his new sword in his arms. In the distance, the fridge chugs away, stuffed full with leftover cake and too much pizza, and a twist of a paper banner drifts across the bedroom floor with a soft scraping sound.

"We did alright today," Noct whispers, and his smile is soft and unguarded, his eyelids slack with exhaustion. Ignis leans in to his touch and sighs. At Noct's feet, Gladio shifts, and the foam sword squeaks against the fabric of his pajamas.

"I believe we did," Ignis whispers back. Noct's fingers go still in his hair, and his eyelids flutter shut. Ignis watches him for a moment, and eases onto his back again.

Tomorrow, there will be work to do. They'll have to clean the apartment, prep lunches for the week, set up lesson plans and office work. Endless piles of laundry will need to be tackled, bruises and cuts mended, fights to break up and swords to eventually confiscate. There will be fallout from Aranea's deployment to handle, and the complex web of the Citadel to navigate. But right now, here in the dark with his family sprawled around him, he feels nothing but peace.

Ignis breathes out.
From: (Anonymous)
OP here. Thank you so, so, so, so, so much. I am so sad to see it end, but it was beautiful and perfect and I sincerely love you, Anon. Really, I do. This was everything I hoped for and so much more. <3
From: (Anonymous)
Oh my god, this was such a fantastic ride! The best thing I have read in looong time, thank you!!!
From: (Anonymous)
Ugh just the fact that everything is going to keep on going but noct and Ignis got each other is pulling at my heart strings man. I loved everything about the dynamics, Noct being so empathetic and understanding as well. I loved it!

Profile

FFXV Kinkmeme

August 2017

S M T W T F S
  1 2345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Aug. 16th, 2017 03:02 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios