Prompt Post Round Five

[ffxv_kinkhelper]

  Welcome to Round Five 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.
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• Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.
• No reposting of prompts from previous rounds, please.
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Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!

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New Prompts are Closed for this round. Please wait until 11/13/2017 for Round Six.

 

Comments

Re: Fill: On the Way to a Smile (Cor & Prompto, Clarus/Cor, E) [3/7]

[(Anonymous)]

I leave just as the sun goes down, and the city lights almost blinding. The daemon scares from a decade past are fresh enough in the collective memory that people stay scared. Another reason Insomnia is a sleepless city.

My intention is to go to my apartment.

Yet I find myself outside the Orphanage again. The locked door deters me as much as it did my last visit. This time, Lance is sitting with one of the other toddlers on a ragged couch. He smiles when he sees me. “I just put Prompto down. Might still be awake, poor little guy. Just try not to wake the others, yeah?”

I’m setting a precedent here. A routine. I know it, and still I climb the stairs. The room has four worn cribs in it. One is empty.

Prompto is awake. Blue eyes almost glowing in the dark. He gurgles when he sees me and holds up his hands. Already, he’s put on weight. A curve of baby fat in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. It’s a good look, a healthier look, where he had been all sharp angles.

I accept his invitation and take him into my arms. Prompto sighs, resting his head against my shoulder. Like a parent from one of those sitcoms Clarus doesn’t admit he likes, I sway side to side. It’s almost like dancing, which I only learned because sometimes I couldn’t get out of being moral support for Regis at a state function. But this is nicer. No shifty politicians. No backroom deals designed to shaft the poor and vulnerable. No exhausted Regis looking like he’d done a bout in one of those underground boxing rings.

Prompto makes soft sound, content maybe?, and I clutch him tighter. The chubby toddler across the room whimpers in their sleep. I frown, then murmur into Prompto’s hair, “Let’s go downstairs.”

Predictably, I get no response. Lance seems unsurprised to see us and smiles. He’s an attractive young man. Maybe late twenties. Russet skin. His eyes are deep brown, thoughtful, and I get the sense he spends a great deal of his time listening to the children. It’s probably a good trait for someone in his position. Dangerous and useful, if he were a spy. His smile is disarming: friendly and honest.

I sit cross-legged on the floor with Prompto in my lap. He can sit by himself. I don’t know if that’s unusual or not, but I comb through his downy hair. “Settling in?” I ask Prompto.

He looks at me with such clarity. I can’t shake the feeling he understands everything, as unlikely as that is. Maybe if I knew Gralean? Maybe I should learn some? It might make communicating with him easier—

No. Pointless exercise.

Prompto’s mouth tilts up slightly, brows furrowed in concentration. I bark out a laugh. The world’s most thoughtful smile.

In my lap, Prompto startles at the sound, and I keep laughing, though softer so as to not wake the other children. He smiles again, this time a little more naturally, and I pet him in encouragement. He’s making progress. He’s healing. Healing from whatever left him thin and scared. Whatever left IV track marks in his arms. I glance over at Lance to find he’s still smiling at us.

I know what he’s thinking. It’s obvious. But I turn back to Prompto as the boy lifts his arms to be held again. I pull him up against my chest. He rests his head on my shoulder, breath evening out.

Kid’s asleep before I can even think about getting him back to bed.

I sigh, but try not to jostle him. I’ll give him a few minutes before I disrupt him. Least I can do. My chest feels tight. The boy smells soft, comforting, like baby powder. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I never did learn not to tempt fate. As ever, I’ll take my licks when and where they come.

“There’s no shame in wanting a child,” Lance offers, “Often there’s no right time to have one.”

Perhaps more than being kind to children, someone in his position must be a good salesperson. He’s certainly making the pitch. I rub Prompto’s back. I can still feel every knot of his spine. He needs more fattening up. “I can’t,” I tell Lance yet again. I’m no father. The closest I’ll ever achieve is training the Crownsguard. I’m crazy for even entertaining the idea of wanting anything else. I know that. “I’m just making sure he’s taken care of. He had a hard time of it.”

The man hums but says no more. I hope that’s the last of it. I can say no indefinitely, of course. There’s no risk of me taking leave of my senses enough to take the boy in. There can’t be. We sit in companionable silence. Time slides past, and every minute, I tell myself to get up and put the boy to bed. But his warmth is comforting. Solid. And I stay.

The clock hits ten—surely I haven’t been here so long?—and I’m getting ready to stand when Prompto squirms in my arms. I glance down. His eyes are scrunched shut, face all twisted up. My stomach jolts. I know this. He wriggles, then his eyes snap open as he wails, the first time I’ve heard him cry. As though he’s never heard himself make such a sound, he startles in my arms, and then the tears start flowing like one of Altissia’s waterways. He sobs, whole body heaving as he cries, and I stare down at him. My mouth opens and nothing comes out.

Useless. I have to pull together.

“Prompto. You’re safe,” I try with my sandpaper voice. “It’s all right.” What is it that Clarus tells me? “You’re home. There’s no one else here. You and me, Prompto. You don’t have to be frightened.” I keep my voice as gentle as possible while I card fingers through his hair.

I stand and try the rocking thing again. Lance approaches us. “I can take him,” he says, hands outstretched, but I shake my head even before he finishes. He nods, then takes the other child upstairs.

Over and over, I repeat Prompto’s name and that he’s safe, and I rock him until even I feel tired. At some point, Lance came back down. He watches us. I barely pay him any mind. Prompto cries silently, tear flowing down his red face. After that first yell of agony, he’s been silent. “This is the first time he’s cried since you brought him,” Lance tells me. “He must feel safe with you.”

I grunt and rub Prompto’s back. I’m not sure how long it takes—it feels like eternity, like the length from here to the battlefield—before he exhausts himself, tiny body sagging against me. He whimpers. “It’s all right. You’re all right. You’re safe,” I say, and he clings tighter.

In moments, he’s asleep. Again I hesitate in taking him upstairs. Lance whispers, “We have a pillow, a blanket, and a small futon for things like this. You can sleep in the toddler’s room tonight. If it’ll put your mind at ease.”

I should refuse. I know I should refuse, but I nod. Can’t stand the thought of leaving him. All those nights Clarus has stayed with me. I couldn’t imagine leaving the boy now when he needs me. I know what it’s like, to be alone with that inner darkness.

In a span of minutes, Prompto is settled in his crib. With my steady steady hands, I don’t even wake him. The futon’s ready when I finish. Lance smiles again. “I’ll be in the room next door. I’ve got the monitor, so if any of the others start crying, you can sit tight.”

Good. One is too much.

I wait for him to leave before I stretch out fully clothed on the futon. I close my eyes, but sleep never comes and I listen to the tiny bodies around me breathing.

Twice, other kids wake, and Lance comes. But Prompto sleeps the whole night through, and when dawn comes, I fold the blanket and the futon, and leave without saying goodbye to anyone. Prompto’s still sleeping.



I don’t go home. I drive to work. Flash my ID. Enter the office. Fill out the paperwork I didn’t finish yesterday—nothing important, just documents needing my seal. I’m first at the training ground. I spend the morning perfecting a new move with my katana. Can’t get the footwork right.

Frustrated, I go to get some water. One of the new recruits—Hedy—sees my face and pales. “Good morning, sir. Are you—quite well?”

I scowl. “Fine. Get to work. I saw your stamina training yesterday. It was lackluster, to say the least. I expect better today.” Sharper than I intend, but she leaves. I wipe my sweat off with a towel.

As others arrive, I shift from my own training to theirs. Stretches. Pair stretches—what’s the point of stretching, if you’re not actually stretching your skills? Laps. Self-defense drills. Self-defense partner work. The third time I have them practicing partner throws, I notice Clarus enter the training ground. I frown. It isn’t Wednesday. Wednesday is the day he brings in Gladio to watch us practice. It’s not Friday, either, when father and son study the blade.

Clarus usually uses a private room if he’s training without his son.

My trainees eye me for instruction now. Shit. Distracted too long. Should have slept last night. But sleep is optional. What can’t kill you, and all that.

I call out for them to switch partners and try again, then cross to Clarus. Sharp-eyed, he watches me. His mouth pinches at the corners. Great. He’s not thrilled with me. I don’t find I care. Defensive, I cross my arms. “Have a problem with my training, Shield?” I demand, unflinching.

Clarus’s expression tightens. The way it does whenever I bring up station. Still, he’s not as touchy about it as Regis is. Commoner, nobility, royalty. Foolish to forget power and fealty, but they expect me to in the way all those with power expect others to ignore privilege. I don’t stand on ceremony, but I know where I stand. “Our King is coming to teach them magick. I’ve taken the rest of the day off and you’re coming with me.”

As if on cue, His Majesty appears. I bite my cheek. I’m not being undermined, but it damn well feels like it. “And we’re going where?”

“My place.”

There it is. A pang. I suppose I have been neglecting him since I returned—three days ago? Two?—and I can’t give him sufficient reason for my shame. It tends to happen more than I’d care admit. For all that we share purpose, since King Mors died we’ve been occupying separate spheres. He’s turned more to administrative and elbow protection of the King, where I morphed from bodyguard to Marshall. Overseeing the Crownsguard and our efforts in the outskirts. I nod as the King picks up the pieces of my training and turns it to magick. For all my skill in his magick, I’ve no interest in it. The Guard will learn it better from his mouth than mine. “And Gladio?” I ask.

“Grace is in Insomnia for trade negotiations. Gladiolus is spending time with his mother,” he pauses, considering. “I believe they went to the florist for the day.”

When you start a relationship with someone, you carve a space out for yourself in their life. Clarus and I have been doing this for years, even before he married, and while I know that his wife doesn’t care if Clarus and I love one another, that while they’re fond of each other in their own way, I doubt I will ever feel comfortable housing our relationship under the same roof he keeps his family. Despite the permission from her own mouth.

As if I am part of their lives. As though the space I have carved is big enough for that affordance. I swallow. “My place?” I counter.

Clarus studies me. “I can do that.”

We take my car in silence. Not a tense one, but neither of us are men of many words. I let us in to my apartment. Offer up food, drink, all of which he turns down. “Shower,” he says, “I’ll make you dinner.” Always so damn domestic when I give him opportunity.

Re: Fill: On the Way to a Smile (Cor & Prompto, Clarus/Cor, E) [3/7]

[(Anonymous)]

There's so much to like in your various chapters that I always feel I can't do them justice. Especially the small touches like Cor imitating TV!parents out of sitcoms he must have watched with Clarus. Or Lance taking Cor's breaking and entering in stride by now as if it was nothing.

Cor dropping by to visit Prompto without second thought and then staying the night is precious. So is the fact that he refuses to give Prompto up and tries comforting him when he's upset. Someone is growing way more attached than he counted on. As is Prompto. And at the same time it serves to show that Cor is that sort of isolated that he's able to keep a secret of this magnitude to himself.

“Prompto. You’re safe,” I try with my sandpaper voice. “It’s all right.” What is it that Clarus tells me? “You’re home. There’s no one else here. You and me, Prompto. You don’t have to be frightened.” I keep my voice as gentle as possible while I card fingers through his hair.

Never mind the shards on the floor, that's just my heart :). This was lovely and bittersweet and right in the feels. All the scenes with Prompto actually break my heart a little - and it was a stroke of brilliance to set the story in that time frame. Cor cares way more about Prompto than he would allow himself to which makes me crave an AU in which Cor actually does adopt Prompto and does not leave him to parents who are pretty much absent throughout his life.

Add to that the fact that Cor while groping around for comfort summons Clarus's words up (because apparently he's the one Cor thinks of when thinking of comfort) and using the present tense (so there are still occasions where Clarus needs to tell him that he's safe at home) - and bang... there goes my heart again.

As if I am part of their lives. As though the space I have carved is big enough for that affordance.

Ah, Cor. He really is a piece of work :). On the one hand there's his craving for closeness and the burning wish to matter to somebody enough that they care about him and on the other hand the moment someone shows a shred of concern for him, he keeps pushing them away.

I love your Clarus (and admire his patience greatly) and the way he deals with Cor, especially when he's lashing out. That he allows Cor to set the boundaries for the way they spend their evening together in order to make him more comfortable. And swallowing Cor's stings instead of hitting back verbally. Clarus might not shout declarations of love from the top of the Citadel, but he keeps showing Cor. Even if Cor doesn't recognize it (or at least chooses not to recognize it. Seems to me almost as if he didn't know what to make of it and how to react to it, if he did in fact acknowledge it).

And it actually makes me hope for Clarus to finally wear Cor down and make him spill the beans. Some secrets are meant to be shared. If anything might do the trick, it could actually be Clarus's calm patience.

Re: Fill: On the Way to a Smile (Cor & Prompto, Clarus/Cor, E) [3/7]

[(Anonymous)]

Ah, Cor. He really is a piece of work :). On the one hand there's his craving for closeness and the burning wish to matter to somebody enough that they care about him and on the other hand the moment someone shows a shred of concern for him, he keeps pushing them away.

Yes. He's kind of like a cat, that way.

I love your Clarus (and admire his patience greatly) and the way he deals with Cor, especially when he's lashing out. That he allows Cor to set the boundaries for the way they spend their evening together in order to make him more comfortable. And swallowing Cor's stings instead of hitting back verbally. Clarus might not shout declarations of love from the top of the Citadel, but he keeps showing Cor. Even if Cor doesn't recognize it (or at least chooses not to recognize it. Seems to me almost as if he didn't know what to make of it and how to react to it, if he did in fact acknowledge it).

God, I wish I was as patient as Clarus is. I think one of the things I'm enjoying writing the most for this is just the relationship, and all of its complications, between Cor and Clarus.

Thanks~!