ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post

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Prompt Post

Welcome to Round Two of the FFXV Kink Meme!

CLOSED for prompts | OPEN for fills

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UPDATE 3/2/2017: Per the Rules thread: Do not hijack prompts. If 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What if Ardyn had begun injecting Prompto with daemon blood when he held him captive -- knowing where Prompto comes from he decides to force Prompto to accept what he was born for

I want this to remain purely platonic and brotherly among the chocobros.

Bonus: When the three find Prompto his eyes have already begun to change to red and they discover what he is before Prompto has a chance to reveal his secret

+this is so sad

I want this. I'm surprised Ardyn hadn't done something like this in game to be completely truthful. That whole segment was the one thing I was legitimately disappointed with.

//hides beneath a thousand blankets.

I think I didn't do it enough justice. qq. It feels so rushed and asdfghjkl. I'm just gonna go cry now. SOMEONE ELSE GO AND WRITE A BETTER VERSION PLEASE.

Warning: mild violence, un-beta'd properly and just- //sobs.

...

Prompto writhed against the metal table.

His hands and legs were rendered useless; shackled down onto the cold, steely surface as his body twisted in all directions in an attempt to release himself from the restraints, and mostly from the agonizing pain.

The pain seethed in his blood and it was as if his entire body was engulfed in Ifirit’s flames, enshrouding him amidst its frenzied dance. His veins burned and all he hoped to do was scratch at every skin visible to release all the vile that surged through him.

His entire being was lit ablaze and his sight swam in a swirling madness. Prompto continued to thrash and struggle against the restraints -- hoping for a short reprieve from the pain he couldn’t describe.

“A lot of energy, indeed,” an all too familiar voice remarked, their tone slow and relaxed with an underlying tinge of mockery. “Now, for the next one.” From Prompto’s peripheral, he could see Ardyn approach with a syringe loosely held between his fingers.

“No! Get awa-”

Though, Prompto could finish, a powerful jolt seared through him; something akin to being struck by one of Noct’s Thundaga -- but twice the power.

Prompto’s vision faded to black.

The next time consciousness claimed Prompto, he was greeted by a dark ceiling dimly lit in a yellow and red hue by the small lights on the wall. His body ached and his wrists and ankles were sore; most likely from the tugging he had done earlier.

He needed to get out of this place.

I don’t belong here.

“Nonsense. This is your home.”

Unbeknownst to Prompto, the words fluttered out of his lips for the Chancellor to hear, and the moment he realised he’s spoken, Prompto instantly regretted it. The word home reverberated in his mind and it was on repeat like a broken record. Prompto whimpered, shaking his head in denial as he felt the prickle of fresh tears behind his eyes. “No...” He wanted to keep denying -- needed to keep denying, but the words he wanted to utter were caught up in his suddenly parched throat.

Prompto could faintly hear Ardyn’s footsteps draw closer and panic bubbled in his stomach. He couldn’t contain the tears in any longer and the beads flowed down his cheeks in a soft torrent.

“Oh, don’t cry. Tears don’t fit your pretty face, Quicksilver.”

Ardyn’s empty hand reached out to his face and wiped the unwanted tears away. The action was almost soothing - loving even. And then there was a sting resonating on his right arm; previous thoughts of comfort and solace were strewn away.

Warmth began to spread down his arm and up his stomach, chest and into his brain.

Quicksilver.

His name was Quicksilver.

Prompto opened his eyes -- his mind escaping the slumber he yearn to last for eternity.

But alas, fate wasn’t so kind.

This time, he woke up to a buzzing migraine and the stench of blood wafting in the air. The disgusting iron scent tickled his senses and he found himself holding his breath. Why was the scent so strong?

“Ah, is the smell not to your delight?” The Chancellor chuckled, the sound booming forth from the back of his throat. “Daemon blood has never smelt...particularly enchanting, so I understand your discomfort.”

Prompto tried moving his limbs, only to find out all his fours were still strapped onto the metal table. In the midst of his attempts, the bruises and scratches on his wrist and ankles were further aggravated -- he failed to stifle a displeased groan.

His eyes travelled slowly from the ceiling to the wall across him and down to his right arm...where a tube was attached, transferring red substance into his veins. Prompto gasped in terror, “Wh-What is this?!” Panic-stricken, the Gunslinger began to shake and rattle atop the table; trying to de-attach the tube and stop whatever the hell that was.

“Ah, ah. Quicksilver-”

“-My name isn’t Quicksilver-”

“-Don’t be so rash.”

Prompto felt an abrupt surge of power and he immediately pulled himself free from his restraints. With all limbs free, he haphazardly pulled the tube away from his arm and jumped to his feet beside the Chancellor.

He beckoned his gun to his aid, but nothing came to his side and dread instantly splashed over him like the cold pelts of rain during a gloomy day. He ground his teeth together. He doesn’t need a gun to defeat Ardyn. He doesn’t need a weapon- so he charges forth, his fingers clenched into a tight ball as he drew his elbow back before smiting forward as fast and with as much force as he could towards Ardyn’s head.

Prompto felt an impact; his fist had not collided with his intended target, but instead, had been seized by Ardyn’s hand. The Chancellor squeezed Prompto’s fist between his fingers and held it there with the grip of a viper. The Gunslinger tried to withdraw his hand but the grasp that had suspended it was like a clamp; unyielding and stone hard.

The next thing Prompto knew, his back was resting uncomfortably on the table; the metal edge digging harshly into his hips and his hands were pinned to his side as Ardyn loomed over him. He suddenly felt small.

“You have wasted precious blood, Quicksilver. How rude.”

“Let go of me!” Prompto hissed. “And don’t call me that!”

“Such energy. Shall we make a deal then?” Ardyn smirked and Prompto wanted nothing more but to wipe it off of his face.

“To hell with your deal!” Prompto snarled before he spat onto Ardyn’s coat. It felt good to soil the Chancellor, but then horror and fear dawned over Prompto as the triumphant look on Ardyn’s face morphed into that of a quiet rage.

Prompto started to struggle against the man, though it ceased all too soon as blinding pain radiated from his right arm. Ardyn had cut deep into his flesh with a small dagger and shoved the tube back in, the red liquid once again mingling with his own blood.

Prompto screamed in agony.

“Quicksilver, don’t make this harder for me or you.”

Ardyn pushed the tube deeper into his flesh, albeit the words that came from Ardyn’s mouth next, hurt more. “You were created to be the ultimate weapon but your sneaky bastard of a mother wasn’t too willing.”

The Chancellor’s grip on his left wrist tightened and Prompto was certain his bones would crack any second.

“Lamentably, Fate had not favoured her. No matter what happens, you would still become a weapon. There was never a Prompto Argentum. It was nothing but a fantasy. There exists only Quicksilver.”

Ardyn was the catalyst to all that Prompto has dreaded.

“Distractions were just postponing the inevitable. But don’t fret, Quicksilver, I have come to finally finish the work that was left incomplete.”

And all Prompto remembered was the heat that pooled around and in his arm before darkness enticed him into a different land. He only hoped Noctis, Ignis and Gladio would come soon.

Much to Prompto’s dismay, he had once again woken up.

“Ah, good morning, Quicksilver,” Ardyn greeted with a euphoric tone. This time, he was sitting on a wooden chair on Prompto’s right side with a book in hand. Something felt...different. Prompto’s breaths were deeper, louder and his chest felt like lead; he was gasping air in and huffing it out through his mouth. He felt warmth and frost embrace him and a small thumping in his head. Whatever was happening, he didn’t like it.

Then he noticed that he couldn’t feel his arms.

Feeling uneasy, he gazed down at his right arm. It was the same as before; a tube connected to his arm and to the IV with a bag full of that red stuff at Ardyn’s side. Nothing he should be surprised about, really. In the meanwhile, though, he caught a glimpse of the small smile on Ardyn’s lips. At the image, a shiver slithered down his spine; from fear or apprehension, Prompto wasn’t entirely sure of.

Next, Prompto swiveled his head slowly to examine the state of his left arm. What he saw this time, however, caught him fully off guard. This time, there was an IV on his left arm too. Why...?

As if reading his mind, Ardyn supplied answer, “Yes, I had to add in another one, as it seems, over the years, you have created a tolerance for daemon blood.”

“What are you doing to me?!” Prompto growled as his gaze shifted back to Ardyn. “Get these off of me!” He shook between the shackles. The Gunslinger was beginning to grow worried. What was the purpose of these tubes and the substance they held within? It only remained an enigma but Prompto was determined to solve the puzzle that rattled his mind -- be it sooner or later.

“Hush now. No matter how much you scream, they will never hear you.”

They will never hear you-

“No! Noct, Iggy and Gladio will come soon…! I know it, they’ll save me,” Prompto argued.

That, however, seemed to have pushed all the wrong buttons on Ardyn. The Chancellor had not believed in pitiful things such as hope or faith. To the man, only despair and agony awaited those who believed in a pipe dream.

Ardyn sighed in disdain, “Now, now. Don’t jump into conclusions. Use your mind. Would they really want a Niff, let alone a Daemon such as yourself, back?”

Those chain of words were like a thousand blades to his heart. What if he says was true?

“Tha-!”

“Shh, Quicksilver. For now, rest. You will need it.” Ardyn placed a gentle hand on Prompto’s eyes, darkness now enveloping his vision.

Ardyn murmured something at his ear but drowsiness had struck him full force and he was gone before he could comprehend anything else.

“Can you hear me?”

Noct?

“Prompto, open your eyes.”

Iggy?

“Come on, wake up.”

Gladio?

Slowly, Prompto lifted his eyelids. Relief and joy flooded his thoughts and tears gathered at his eyes. “Guys...!” They’ve come to save him, he knew they’d come! That Ardyn never knew what he was talking about.

The three looked happy one moment, and the other, their faces were laced with disgust and disappointment. Prompto was free from whatever constrained him, and thus, with his freedom acquired, he reached out to Ignis, who was closest to him.

The next thing that occurred shattered his heart.

Ignis had sensed his action and had repelled from his touch. Before Prompto could fathom the reason why Ignis took a few steps back, Gladio slapped his hand away. Within the brief contact they had, Prompto noticed the Shield was cold...Gladio was never cold. Prompto swore he was a literal heater-

“Don’t touch Iggy, you filth,” Gladio growled; his voice threatening and protective.

“What do you mean? Gladio, it’s me-”

“You’re not Prompto! You’re an MT!” Noctis yelled, calling his Engine Blade to his side.

What were they thinking? He’s not an MT-

“Noct, you’ve got it all wrong-”

“Spare me your excuses. I’m disgusted.”

Just as Prompto was to explain, Noctis rose his sword and slashed it down upon him.

And only then, had he realized his wristbands were gone.

Prompto woke up with a jolt.

No...

No...!

No!

This can’t be. It’s all a lie. Nothing’s real. Noctis, Ignis and Gladio will come for him, he believes in them.

But then, Ardyn’s words suddenly resonated in his mind.

There was never a Prompto Argentum. There exists only Quicksilver.

Quicksilverquicksilverquicksikver-

Subconsciously, (and unknown to him) Prompto had muttered under a shaky breath, “I am...Quicksilver.”

The hours blended into one. Time began and time stopped. Time bled into myriad of moments and time also faded into a void of nothing.

The concept of time within the Keep was non-existent.

All he could do was stare at the ceiling above and hope that sleep would take him away.

Prompto just yearned for-

Wait, Prompto?

Who’s Prompto...?

Whoever or whatever it is, it keeps haunting his mind. His name was Quicksilver, right?

He’ll need to ask Ardyn again just to make sure.

(“That’s right. This is all what you are. A weapon from Niflheim.”

Ardyn grabbed his forearm and guided the limb to his line of sight. Black lines upon black lines scored his wrist and Prompto found himself thinking that this is reality and all he’s known has been futilely conjured up by his mind to keep the daemons at bay.

What he cherished was nothing but a fantasy.)

WHOOPS. I just realized I replied to the wrong comment. OMG. I FAIL AT FILLING SO MUCH.

. . .

Noctis needed to hurry.

He zapped through Zegnautus Keep with haste; his movements agile and precise as he wove around the stray daemons and troublesome MTs. There is no time to waste. He can’t afford to sacrifice anymore and he can’t afford to be shook by any of Ardyn’s taunts either.

The ring that encompassed his finger burned a certain sensation into his skin. It only drove him to do more; to keep on going; to trust his instincts and believe that his friends are still alive -- that Prompto is alive.

Upon encountering Ravus, he had gained the Sword of the Father. For a few moments, he mourned the death of his friend but if he wanted to prevent any more deaths from happening, he realized he couldn’t let himself waver anymore. Ardyn’s comments and taunts bothered him from time to time, though the thought of reuniting with his friends overpowered all the abysmal crap coming from the Chancellor.

Therefore, he kept going.

Noctis destroyed -- obliterated -- whatever that stood on his way. Daemons and MTs alike stood no chance against him as adrenaline coursed his veins in mighty torrents; and from adrenaline alone, he drove forward.

Though, now stuck between two doors enclosing around him, he was at a loss of what to do. The adrenaline was still there, but it was accompanied by another feeling -- this newfound feeling was not at all helping him in any way, much to his dismay.

Maybe he could sma-

“Noct?”

Noctis, caught surprised, had yelled back, “Ignis?!”

Ignis and Gladio who were outside of the trap he was caught in, had stopped the doors on their tracks before the Prince was scorched by lightning.

From then, they proceeded higher into the Keep. With his Advisor and Shield by his side, Noctis felt he could really find Prompto.

And he did.

At the end of the endless rows of cells, was one cell which held Prompto captive; held in a contraption that kept him upright in a position that resembled something like being nailed to a cross.

Delighted, Noctis rapidly unbounded Prompto from the apparatus. Gladio had caught the blonde before his body hit the ground. The Gunslinger was at a worse state than he thought; bruises were scattered all across his body and the more prominent ones were on his wrist. Dried blood caked his hair and arms. Wounds that were potential causes of infection littered his entire frame and Noctis didn’t know where else to look.

“Easy now,” the shield had mumbled as he settled onto the floor with Prompto in his arms.

“How is he?” Ignis asked, worried.

“He’s coming to.”

Prompto whimpered and his eyes abruptly opened before closing in a tight clench. “Prompto?” Noctis called.

Prompto’s lids lifted and the three were speechless.

Noctis couldn’t believe what he was seeing. And neither could Gladio nor Ignis.

Prompto’s irises were tainted a vehement red; the same hue of blood and the small, red lights scattered inside the Keep. They glistened an eerie glow and Noctis’ heart was suddenly held captive by an unknown force.

“N-No, get away from me!”

The Gunslinger scampered out of Gladio’s arms, shaking and Noctis saw fear run through Prompto’s now red eyes. He saw fear, terror, dread and apprehension. He saw the emotions he’d never thought Prompto would look at him with.

Prompto is afraid.

“Prompto, what-”

“Nonono- there is no Prompto. Only Quicksilver, Quicksilver, Quicksilver-”

Who’s Quicksilver?

Prompto’s pupils were blown wide as he rose his hands to grab at his locks, his fingernails raking his scalp.

Noctis moved to grab Prompto’s arms, trying to cease whatever his friend was about to do and to impede further damage. The prince pulled his hands away from Prompto’s head and in the process, black markings caught his eyes. When he had successfully pinned Prompto’s arms above his head, Noctis then had been allowed to further observe the marking. It was a-

Noctis paled. It was a barcode.

“Prompto, wha-”

“Quicksilverquicksilverquicksikver-”

Noctis’ breath was lost somewhere down his throat. His brows were stitched together as he looked back at Ignis and Gladio.

Only one thing came to Noctis’ mind.

Was I too late?

Not op but Oh wow! Thank you so much for sharing and filling this your awesome!

Gen: Daemon Blood Prompto

Re: Gen: Daemon Blood Prompto

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FILL: [Gen] Blood Taker 1/2.

Re: FILL: [Gen] Blood Taker 2/2.

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Re: Gen: Daemon Blood Prompto

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FILL: [Gen] Bloodless 1/1.

Re: FILL: [Gen] Bloodless 1/1.

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Re: FILL: [Gen] Bloodless 1/1.