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!

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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.

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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)
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!

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