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!

 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.)


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

Fill: 9/? Re: Gladio/Noctis - war prize AU

Date: 2017-03-09 06:30 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Gladio nearly had to drag Noctis through the doors of the Leville’s private dining room. The chain at his collar was pulled tight enough to choke, and Gladio could hear the younger man’s breath behind him, short and harsh. He glared in his direction and jerked his head shortly.

“Quit lagging,” he hissed. “I won’t let anything—“ But then Talcott was at his elbow, directing him to a line of men and women in Lucian black, and Gladio sighed deeply. Cor and Monica appeared at his sides, already waiting at the wings, and they approached the delegation from Lucis with fixed, false smiles on their weathered faces.

“Your Majesty, King Regis,” Gladiolus said. “How good to see you well.”

“Likewise, King Gladiolus.” They engaged in the complex dance that was royalty trying to bow without insulting the other or damaging their pride, and Gladio felt the chain at his hand go slack as Noctis finally, finally caught up.

Then King Regis’ gaze turned to Noctis, and it took all of Gladio’s willpower not to step aside as the young man collapsed. His fall was coordinated: Knees, waist, arms, head, folding up on himself in a genuflection that ended with his forehead pressed to the carpet. Seeing a man—even the mage—bow like that to his own father was nothing short of horrifying. King Regis’ gaze slid over him with only the faintest twinge of an emotion Gladio couldn’t place, but a man in glasses behind Regis lurched forward, mouth open. The man at Regis’ left shook his head minutely, and the other man rocked back, hands flexing as though reaching for a weapon he couldn’t summon.

Introductions were made as though there wasn’t a man currently curled and trembling on the floor. The man in the glasses was Ignis Scientia, the advisor to the prince. The prince was the man on the King’s left, Nyx Ulric—someone Gladiolus recognized in reports from the war, but not a man he’d had the fortune of fighting against. Captain Drautos he already knew, and there was Crowe, a woman with the robes of a mage and an inability to hide her obvious discomfort at the whole affair. He felt a strange sort of sympathy with her, and took a moment to clasp her hand in greeting.

Noctis didn’t move until the Lucian delegation returned to their seats at the table.

“The hell, Noctis?” Gladio said, as the young man lifted himself to his knees.

“Don’t address me by name,” Noct said, so low that Gladio had to lean down to hear him properly. “It’ll be an offense, when my name was taken from me. And I don’t… as I am, I don’t deserve it.”

“Could’ve told me this earlier,” Gladio pointed out, holding down the revulsion that ran through him at those words. Noctis was breathing quickly, as though he were winded, and he kept his gaze fixed on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Your M—“ he stopped himself, and Gladio saw his jaw working, distaste in his eyes. “Master.”

It was the word Noctis had stubbornly refused to use, and Gladio, despite taunting him with the option now and then, had been privately thankful.

“This only lasts until we’re out of Lestallum,” Gladio said, firmly. “Whatever this is. Don’t quote me on it, but I think I like you better as a stubborn little shit.”

Noctis looked at him then, and a hint of a smug grin smoothed the hard lines at his mouth.

“I said don’t quote me on it,” Gladio repeated, smiling back, and waved his hand. “Come on. I’m not having you crawl to the table.”

There was a cushion for Noctis next to Gladio’s chair, and he was given his own glass of water by the slightly worried-looking waitstaff, who kept shooting the man sympathetic looks every time they passed by. When Gladio wordlessly offered to pass down some of the appetizers on a plate, Noctis shook his head and mouthed, nerves, in his native tongue. Gladio shrugged and waited for the formal opening statements of the banquet to be over. Gods, never in his life had he wanted more to be home and away from all this mess.

King Regis was civil, if not pleasant—No one could feign true friendship when they were about to hand over most of their land and all of their military. Gladio spoke to Cor for the most part, and tried not to notice how the man at his feet was endeavoring to hunch his shoulders, making himself disappear from the other diners’ views.

During a lull in the banquet, Gladio was alerted to movement around the edge of the table. Ignis, the advisor, was heading towards him with a black and gold-edged card in his hands. He bowed properly to Gladio, in a funny, old-fashioned sort of way, and stepped a little too close as he held out the card. He knelt so as not to stand above the king—either Gladio or Regis, he supposed—and Gladio saw that Ignis’ shoulder was only inches from Noctis’ back.

“On behalf of the Lucian delegation,” Ignis said, in an accent that was much smoother than the former prince’s, “I present to you a gift to show our good will towards your nation, and the peace we seek to ensure here.”

“Hopefully not another human being,” Gladio said. He had to admit that it was tactless, but the man before him only looked politely blank.

Noctis leaned just a fraction so that his back was pressed to Ignis’ side. The advisor kept his green eyes on the king, but let his left hand drop to his upraised knee as the note was taken from him. Noctis slowly reached up to brush Ignis’ fingers with his own, and for a moment, the two men were a tableau of fear, rabbits frozen in the face of an encroaching predator. Gladio pretended to be engrossed in the message in his hands instead, and heard the faintest sigh escape Noctis’ lips.

“Yes, thank you,” he said to Ignis, with a polite nod. “I have not had the chance to attend a play held in Lestallum in years. I’ll take your recommendations in mind.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ignis said. He stood and bowed deeply, but his hand still barely touched Noct’s.

Gladio lowered his voice. “I won’t bite if you want to talk to him,” he whispered. The look Ignis gave him in response was tight with pain.

I can’t,” He straightened from his bow and made to return to his side of the table.

No.” A silence descended over the collected officials as Noctis half rose from his knees, pulling the advisor back by the hand. “Iggy, gods.

Ignis yanked his hand free of Noct’s hold as though it burned him, and Gladio felt the weight of his dinner companions’ gazes, looking to him to control his misbehaving prize. He grit down the taste of bile in the back of his throat and placed a hand on Noct’s shoulder, holding him down.

He leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t. Not right now. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to apologize.”

Noctis shuddered and twisted towards him, lowering his forehead to rest on his thigh. “Forgive me,” he said, in a voice clear enough to carry. “Master.”

Gladiolus felt sick.

“I apologize for the outburst,” he said to the table at large. He placed a hand on the back of Noct’s head, trying to soothe him somehow, fingers digging into the hairs at the nape of his neck. “It won’t happen again. Your Majesty, have you tried the quail eggs?”

The conversation picked up after that, but Gladio noticed that Ignis didn’t eat much. Noctis remained silent through the rest of the dinner, mutely refusing food and water, closing his eyes to the brush of Gladio’s hand through his hair. Gladio resigned himself to it and requested an attendant to bring up a dish to his suite, just in case.

“I’m afraid I must offer an apology,” King Regis said, when the last of the main courses had been cleared and a round of palate-cleansing sorbets were delivered. “We did not have adequate time to train your gift in the behavior befitting their station.”

Gladio forced himself not to tip his wine into the other king’s lap. “I’d be hard-pressed to say if I’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary, Regis,” he said, with a brittle smile. “But then, slavery is illegal in my country, so I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

It was hypocritical as hell, he knew, but it was worth it to see King Regis’ eyes darken and his lips thin in a familiar scowl.

“Ah,” he said. “That’s the same look he gives me. There’s quite a likeness.” He felt fingers clench on his thigh, and glanced down. Noctis was sitting up, the light of his earrings reflecting on his neck.

“Master,” he said. “May I speak?”

“So polite, too,” Gladio said to Regis, and leaned down to the former prince at his side. Noct’s voice, when he spoke again, was in his usual sardonic tone.

“Remember that I’m the only mage here with a stasis collar, Your Majesty,” he snapped.

“There are magic jamming signals all over the city,” Gladio said. “You can’t tell?”

Noctis tapped his collar in response and shrugged. “Thank you, Master,” he said, in a louder voice, and placed his head on Gladio’s lap again. The king sighed and turned back to his companion, who was engaged in deep conversation with Captain Drautos.

Nyx Ulric—or Nyx Lucis now, Gladio couldn’t wrap his head around Lucians and their ass-backwards approach to titles—didn’t speak to him once. He looked more uncomfortable than Ignis, if that were possible, and kept glancing over at Gladio when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. His dark eyes were sharp and calculating, but they could have belonged to any of the men or women on Gladiolus’ side. Straightforward, stern, full of resolve. Nothing like the wild spark that burned in Noctis’ gaze when he was pushing back against Gladio’s orders, or those moments when Noct was undone by pleasure and made vulnerable and open, seeking comfort under the hands of a man he knew should hate him.

Captain Drautos will ruin him, Noctis had said. Gladio looked to Captain Drautos, so calm and well-composed, and down at the man at his side.

Hell. He wasn’t there for mind games. He wished his sister, Iris, were there—She always knew how to read a room better than even their father—but she was back at the capitol, doing the important work of running the nation while her brother tried his hand at war. He wondered what she’d think of Noctis. Probably be rightly disgusted by the whole business, if he knew her sensibilities—

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath. Could he go one second without thinking about the man? He looked down at Noctis and made a gesture with his hand, calling one of the attendants over from their place at the door.

“Escort him to my suite, please,” he said, and the look Noctis gave him was so sickeningly grateful that he felt like hitting something. “I’ll be up shortly—it looks like it’s winding down.” It wasn’t, but he could tell that King Regis was starting to tire, and it would be poor manners to let a king collapse in the middle of dessert. Gladio felt a weight lift from his shoulders as Noctis was towed away, and was so caught up in the freedom of it that he didn’t even notice when Captain Drautos begged his king’s leave to retire for the evening.


Feelin' kind of uncomfortable, are we, Gladio?

Re: Fill: 9/? Re: Gladio/Noctis - war prize AU

Date: 2017-03-09 06:57 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Oh my god, this part was E X C E L L E N T, anon! Wow. So many emotions here. Everyone was soooo uncomfortable. Poor Noctis, how humiliating. And him reaching out for Ignis broke my heart! ;_;

I love how the "Master" thing came back to bit Gladio in the ass. How it seems he hadn't truly considered how that'd feel until right then.

Re: Fill: 9/? Re: Gladio/Noctis - war prize AU

Date: 2017-03-09 07:07 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
OH, god. My heart is in pieces, Author Anon! Noctis and Ignis, reaching out for one another. Gladio feeling repulsion, that disgusting Drautos... Fuck.


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