Prompt Post

[ffxv_kinkmod]

 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. 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.

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.

Comments

Re: Fill: 5/? Prompto meets Carbuncle - Prompto/Noctis or Gen

[(Anonymous)]

Prompto's got the hotel room in Lestallum to himself right now, and it's kind of a novelty. Iggy and Gladio are out at the market, picking up supplies. Noct's in the bathroom, taking a shower; the water's a distant rush in his ears, pleasant and calming.

So he's got lots of time to fight a battle in King's Knight, and to try out his new filter, and to just loll around on the bed. He's missed having a bed.

When his phone buzzes at him, he reaches for it idly – expects that it's Iggy, asking whether he needs anything while they're out.

It's not. It's an unidentified number. All the text contains is an emoji: a happy chocobo, surrounded by hearts.

Prompto frowns down at it. He didn't exactly have a thrilling social life before – his friends numbered all of one, until Iggy and Gladio got stuck with him by association – and he can't think of anyone who would have his number but no contact information in his cell. Even less so, now that Insomnia's on lockdown under Imperial rule, most of the populace wiped out in the initial attack.

Still, he's got time to kill. And it'd suck if the person on the other end needed something and never found out they got the wrong number. So Prompto texts back: whos this?

His phone buzzes back at him: Guess. :)

Prompto thinks about it for a minute. He bites at his lip.

His adoptive parents have never used an emoji in their lives. They're not the sort to dance around a point, almost certainly would have started any message with a dry account of their location and new contact information, but despite that, he feels a sudden, almost-too-sharp spike of hope that it's them. Maybe they made it out of Insomnia, after all. Maybe they've scrounged up a new phone somewhere and have been trying to reach him this whole time.

Prompto taps in: mom? dad?

There's a pause before the reply comes. Sorry. Not them :(

Right. Of course it isn't. Prompto closes his eyes for just an instant – tries to ignore the way his throat's grown tight. He scrubs at his eyes with the back of one hand, and he puts his head down on the hotel comforter.

It takes him a couple of minutes before he's able to try again.
At last he taps in: iris?

He doesn't know Gladio's little sister very well, but she seems like the kind of kid to use emojis all over the place. She might even have gotten his number from Gladio, though Prompto can't for the life of him imagine why she might be texting.
Wrong, says his mystery friend.

In the bathroom, the shower shuts off. Prompto can hear, faintly, the sound of wet footsteps and the shuffle of fabric as Noct finds a towel.

Prompto considers again, frowning vaguely. He taps out: sorry buddy. think you’ve got the wrong number.

His phone buzzes twice, in rapid succession.

Nope.

Hi Prompto hi. :)

Prompto racks his brain for who it might be. Monica? The content seems too childish. Cor? Even the thought has him snorting laughter. Talcott? More likely, but he's pretty sure the kid doesn't have a phone.

Ardyn?

That's… worth considering. He's not sure how the man would have gotten his number, but he's a recent acquaintance. He seems friendly enough, and Prompto wouldn't put it past him to pack his messages with smiley faces, just for the hell of it.
His phone buzzes again, before he can tap in this newest guess.

Ew, no, the text reads. Not him.

Prompto feels his mouth fall open. His brow furrows with confusion. How the hell – did he type that, and then send it, and then somehow delete it and forget he'd sent it?

The bathroom door clicks open while Prompto's staring at the screen of his phone. He looks up – starts to say, "Hey, Noct. You know whose phone number this is?"

But he doesn't get any further than Noct's name, because the sight stops him cold.

Noct's in nothing but the too-small hotel towel, holding it up with one hand. It's riding low on his hips, starting to slip down, and his skin is pale and smooth and still wet from the shower.

"Hey," says Noct. "Sorry. Forgot my clothes."

Prompto swallows, hard. He can feel himself blushing, a wave of heat that's swarming his face like a wildfire. He realizes he's staring – manages, with great difficulty, to jerk his eyes away.

"Uh," he manages, intelligently. "No – no problem. Check your bag, dude."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he kicks himself for being ten kinds of idiot. Where else would Noct's clothes be, besides his bag?

Prompto's phone buzzes, then buzzes again. He ignores it, in favor of staring determinedly at the hotel comforter and not at his best friend's near-naked body.

He's aware, peripherally, of Noct bending down to fish out his t-shirt and waders – tries very hard not to be aware of how much thigh the actual bending process exposes. Prompto is suddenly very glad that he's lying on his stomach, because he has an unfortunate tent in his pants that he really, really doesn't want to explain.

It seems like Noct takes decades to find himself some clothes. By the time he's back in the bathroom, door closed behind him, Prompto's sure his heart's about to explode in his chest. His face feels like the surface of the sun, burning hot to the touch.

He hopes Noct's quick in the bathroom, cause he needs to get in there, like, stat.

Prompto's phone buzzes again.

Reluctantly, he glances away from the bathroom door and down to the screen of it.

The first message says Ooooooo with a kissy emoji.

The second says: That was a hint, you should take it. Three more kissy faces follow.

He's just starting to feel the first spike of alarm – this has got to be someone who can see into their room, and that induces a horror-movie-level-creepy-stalker twist of cold terror – when he reads the third message.

It says: He has dreams like your arcade dream sometimes. You don't have to worry.

Prompto gapes down at the phone like a fish Noct's just landed. He opens his mouth and closes it again.

There's only one person that could possibly know about that dream. He's never told anybody – never even hinted.

With shaking fingers, he taps: carbuncle?!

He gets back a whole screen full of confetti and smiling faces.

Re: Fill: 6/6 Prompto meets Carbuncle - Prompto/Noctis or Gen

[(Anonymous)]

It's the middle of the following week, and Prompto's trying very hard not to hyperventilate. It's the best chance he's ever going to get. Iggy and Gladio are on their way back to Wiz's Chocobo post by now to renew their lease on the birds, and here are he and Noct, at the haven manning the camping gear.

You got this, Prompto tells himself. You'll be fine.

His phone buzzes, and a picture pops up. It's Carbuncle's face in close-up, from the shot he took with the little creature posed against a background of blurred shrubbery.

The text reads: Go go you can do it

Prompto bites at his lip. "You'd better be right about this," he mutters.

The phone buzzes again: I'm always right :)

So Prompto takes a deep breath. He runs his hand through his hair, checking to make sure everything's in place. He chews a stick of gum, from a pack purchased at Cauthess for this very purpose. Then he spits it out into the paper wrapper, folds it up, and sticks it in the trash bag Iggy always insists they haul around.

He clears his throat. He practices an easy smile.

"You can do this," Prompto tells himself, uncertainly.

"Do what?"

Prompto yelps – jumps – turns so fast he almost falls over. It's Noct, of course, one eyebrow raised in an expression that's amused and fond both at once.

"I, uh," says Prompto, words fleeing him in his moment of need. "You, uh. That is."

Noct snorts a laugh. "What the hell, Prom? I haven't seen you this worked up since you had to give that monologue on stage back in high school."

Prompto takes a deep gulp of air. He steps forward, slow and deliberate. He sets his hands on Noct's shoulders, ignoring the surprise creeping into his best friend's face and trying not to think about whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Then he leans up and kisses Noct, square on the mouth.

It's not a storybook kiss, slow and romantic. It's simple and closed-mouth, because Prompto has absolutely zero clue what he's doing.

When he pulls back, Noct's looking at him, kind of dazed.
For a moment, neither of them say anything. Prompto keeps staring, waiting for – something. Some kind of response. His stomach's all twisted up in knots, the butterflies attempting a sudden, violent retreat in the face of such a hostile environment.

This is a mistake. He's going to puke, or pass out, or – or something even more embarrassing. Possibly spontaneously combust, because his face has reached the approximate temperature of the sun.

"You know what," Prompto manages, voice reedy and thin. "Forget – forget that happened. Okay? I'm gonna just –"

He's not sure what he's going to do. Swim to the bottom of a lake and start a colony there, maybe, so that the outside world never has to see his awkward attempt at romance again. He's just starting to turn away when Noct sets a hand on his shoulder.

Prompto turns back, half-dreading the expression he'll find, and Noct pulls him in for another kiss, with so much enthusiasm that their teeth clink together. It's a clumsy and stilted; Noct's not any more experienced than he is.

But when they finally pull apart, Prompto feels like he's soaring somewhere high above the ground, turning cartwheels up in the air with the birdbeasts.

===

Prompto dreams of the ocean, vast and lovely, the surface of the water as smooth as glass. It stretches away into the distance, dawn a promise of warmth on the horizon.

The whimsical silhouette of Angelgard is a hazy shape where the sea meets the sky. Nearer at hand, a gull floats on the waves, fat and content in the early light.

Noct's standing on the dock, the soft whir of his reel a pleasant background noise against the lapping of water. Prompto sits beside him, close enough to touch; his feet are bare, and he kicks them in the chill of the waves. He can taste the ocean air in his lungs, the salt spray on his lips.

It's a pleasant dream, soft and idle. It's nothing more complicated than a series of moments, precious unhurried time spent with someone he cares for.

When Prompto wakes, it's in the hours immediately before dawn; he can tell, because the light filtering in through the fabric of the tent is grey and wan. He's curled on his side in his sleeping bag, and he finds that during the night, he's shifted closer to Noct.

Noct's face is a pale oval bare inches from his own, long lashes brushing against the skin of his cheek.
Looking at him like this, peaceful and still, Prompto is struck with a surge of affection, so fierce and sudden that he feels it might drown him.

Prompto closes his eyes. He smiles, so hard his cheeks ache, and reaches out to take Noct's hand in his own.

Instead, he finds something warm and plush, like the fur of a kitten's belly. Prompto blinks his eyes open again, still only half-awake. He's not entirely surprised to see that Carbuncle is there, curled up in the space between them. Prompto's fingers search out a silky ear, and he scritches delicately at its base.

Carbuncle's eyes slit closed. The fluffy white head nuzzles into his palm.

Prompto leaves his hand there, and he uses the other one to twine his fingers in with Noct's.

When he drifts off again, just moments later, the world of dreams swings its dream wide open.

Fill: Complete on Ao3: Prompto meets Carbuncle - Prompto/Noctis or Gen

[(Anonymous)]

Ao3 link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10387077