ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post Round Six

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Prompt Post Round Six

Welcome to Round Six of the FFXV Kink Meme!

CLOSED for prompts | OPEN for fills

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Wakefulness came to Prompto gradually, like an auto-adjusting lens. Everything fuzzy around the edges, comfortable and warm. Then, practically in an instant, the sound of the world snapped into focus and the memories of the past day washed up.

Prompto stifled a groan. Opening his eyes or even rolling over onto his stomach seemed out of the question. He stretched in place as best he could, burrowing deeper into the bedding.

"Good morning," he heard Ignis say from the other side of the room.

Prompto opened his eyes. The lights in their suite were on, the curtains still pulled shut. "'Morning."

While Ignis cleaned his teeth and dressed, choosing to go the 'deadly in imperial purple' route, Prompto claimed another quick shower to freshen up. He eyed the small pile of shimmering gold vinyl on the bed. His uniform today involved only slightly more fabric than yesterday's, but it was something. According to the itinerary, they'd be leaving the resort grounds for an afternoon outing in nearer to the center of the city.

When Prompto turned just a little in front of the mirror, eyeing his own ass skeptically in the outfit, Ignis cleared his throat. Prompto jumped. His elbow knocked painfully into the counter, sending the resort's hair-dryer onto the floor.

"Iggy!" Prompto said, picking it up, fumbling the first time as though he were some kind of hair-dryer dropping dork. "Pretty- Pretty tight, right?"

Ignis had that look like he was trying to avoid offering his honest opinion in response to Prompto's extremely fake laugh, and Prompto fully appreciated the consideration. "I've ordered our breakfast. In the interest of preserving appearances, would you mind answering the door when it arrives?"

Prompto flashed him two thumbs up. "You got it, boss."

Ignis made a face. "Thank you."

Ignis returned his attention to doing up buttons, so Prompto glanced around the room. It didn't match the ostentatiousness of the places they'd visited yesterday, and mostly seemed like a bigger, nicer version of a hotel room. It was nicer than anywhere they'd stayed thus far, that's for sure. He didn't really have a scale for gauging 'slightly rich' versus 'mega-rich', to be fair. Plus he'd mostly been looking at the floor, not his surroundings.

Aside from the huge bed and bathroom, a television and a comfortable-looking armchair occupied most of the space. Shiny side tables sat on either side of the bed, each with a lamp, and there was another small table by the armchair. The attached bathroom had two sinks. So probably the most expensive place he'd ever slept, after Noct's. There was no way this all was coming out of their monster farming budget, though. Either they had an in who wanted that drive just as much, or they were depleting resistance efforts to finance this. Just as that train of thought started to escape him, there was a knock.

"I apologize for the trouble," Iggy said the moment the door closed behind Prompto.

"No trouble at all!"

Ignis claimed the coffee for himself, though he made a face at the first sip. They split the rest of the tray while discussing their plans for the weekend over a notebook Iggy produced from nowhere.

"Uh, this looks like we aren't due anywhere until two in the afternoon," Prompto said, raising his eyebrows.

"Astute observation," Ignis said. His glasses were folded over the edge of his breast pocket, and Prompto could see the dark circles under his eyes. "Today, I plan to follow up with each of the men we met with yesterday. I hope you don't mind passing some time in the room until then."

"Sure you don't need me?" Prompto said. "Appearances' sake?"

"That won't be necessary," Ignis said. "And, well, I would prefer you only be asked to, er- perform- when absolutely necessary."

Prompto leaned forward, but Ignis held up a bare hand before he had time to open his mouth. "Humor me in this," he said.

"....Alright. 2 o'clock," Prompto said. "No problem. But call the room if you run into trouble."

"If I do." Ignis promised. He tapped his finger back against the schedule. "Now, following the afternoon address, Chief Besithia has extended an invitation to his personal box at Arena Galviano, after which we'll return to the room before the evening meal..."

Prompto tried to pay attention, he really did, starting with the day's summary and Ignis's observations of other slaveowner-slave interactions, both general and specific. Some of Ignis's questions about the various semi-pornographic rituals Prompto was comfortable performing in public - basically anything they'd done so far - had been on his mind too. But Ignis went back through each stop of the day, describing the location, key players in attendance and their various relationships to Verstael Besithia, and Prompto found himself cracking jokes less and spacing out more as Ignis got to the finer points of the décor and menu.

They'd made it about three quarters of the way through the list before he was shooing Ignis out of the door. It's not like he necessarily needed to know every detail of every fancy cocktail party Ignis had invited himself to, since he'd mostly be following wherever the man went, looking at nothing and nobody.

The door swung shut for the second time that morning, and Prompto found himself relaxing into the bed once again.

Prompto lacked all ability to cope with boredom, as he soon discovered. Ignis had left a crossword and a book. There was a notepad and pen on the table, and a room service menu. Prompto glanced it over before remembering he wouldn't be able to order anything, anyway. One of the drawers had a destination guide in it, which was just depressing. Despite the shit show that had befallen their once-cheery trip, they had gotten help with the Arms and made it to Altissia ahead of schedule, after all.

Prompto had never been this far from home. Any other time, he'd be jumping at the chance to explore the city proper. He chewed on his thumbnail, tapping his fingers on the Restaurants - Tenebrean page. Maybe after they pulled this favor for Cor and the others he'd have some time to go out for a night with the guys. Take everybody's mind off of stuff.

He realized what he was doing and stopped. They'd just groomed them down for the infiltration. If he blew Ignis's cover over something as simple as bad-looking nails, he'd never hear the end of it. He'd been doing pretty good at catching his reflexive impulses for Ignis's sake. Turned out having nothing to do but stare at rich people's shoes all day made it pretty easy to space out.

The memory of Ignis's fingers in his mouth arose unbidden. And, as he reflexively let his mouth drop open in self-exasperated lust, he felt something else rise unbidden.

Prompto glanced up to his own, very judgmental gaze staring him down from the mirror. The internal debate of a lifetime lasted about five seconds before he looked away, swore and stuck two fingers in his mouth before he could talk himself out of a terrible idea. Shoving the other hand down his shorts to rub at his stiffening groin, he let out an exhale of breath.

He ran his own fingers over his tongue experimentally, pushing down, sticking his tongue out against them and meeting resistance, and thought about the way Ignis had been in his mouth like this the day before. In front of strangers, without even looking at him, if you didn't know it was an act you'd never guess anything but that taking Prompto apart fell so beneath his notice - even while running his wide, slender hand down Prompto's chest and the slight, firm pressure he applied kept Prompto's bare back pressed up against a single warm plane of contact where Ignis remained fully clothed..

Prompto pulled his hand from his mouth to lick some of the drool onto his other palm. This time, he eased the tight gold shorts off and tossed them toward the bathroom, not wanting to explain any awkward accidents. When his slick hand closed around his dick, Prompto groaned around the fingers in his mouth, and added a third. He stroked faster, panting over his own hand as he curled the digits into the back of his throat, picturing Ignis doing it. The mirror facing the bed betrayed his full-body flush in glimpses, and Prompto squeezed his eyes shut.

The slightly salty taste of Ignis's fingers. The way he never tugged the leash or looked back to make sure Prompto was keeping up. Like he took his claim for granted. But that wasn't it, not entirely. There was also the way he noticed when the collar started to itch, and scratched under it. The pressure of his hand rubbing at Prompto's head, the only communication they could afford. The approving pat on the head. He was doing what he was supposed to, doing it well.

His voice. The way, possessively pressed against him, Ignis's voice had thrummed through his entire chest with every quiet, commanding sentence. But also the way he sounded in the Regalia, when Noctis was dozing off in the back and he saw a funny billboard or street sign, and had to lean towards Prompto and stage-whisper over the sound of the road whatever self-amused quip it had inspired.

Prompto bucked his hips into his hand as he thought about the sight of Ignis, hair down but tie perfectly straight, untouchable in his pristine suit and ironed slacks as he carelessly pulled out his cock, speaking to him in that voice, giving him instructions, deep and scratched from sleep the way he'd sounded that morning. Prompto imagined dropping to his knees, taking Ignis in his mouth, laving worship along his length while Ignis's steady hand gripped his hair. He groaned and squirmed against the hotel bed, twisted his palm over the head of his dick and at the mental image of Ignis's fingers tightening, let out one great, desperate whine through the spit at the heel of his hand, leaving indentations of his teeth as he came against his fingers and stomach.

Prompto panted, still twitching, unfurling himself from the fantasy. He wiped his fingers off on his thigh and belly, glancing at the tissue box on the side table but not wanting to drag himself back upright just yet. Then he groaned and pressed a hand to his face.

What the hell was he doing?

Gladio using only one arm to support Noctis from his middle as he tucks him into himself, lifting Noctis to his toes as he fucks him from behind

Imma come me back tin this when not drunk but OP loves you.

I LOVE THIS and I can't wait for the debauchery to come

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depersonalization
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derealization
https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depersonalization-derealization-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20352911

can be a recurring issue or happening for the first time. past trauma is fine.

prefer ignis or maybe noct for this. gen/ships/ot4 is fine.

I really like Ardyn/Ignis, but any adult character is fine.

The guys wake up one morning to find that Noctis is not in the tent. At first they pay it no mind, thinking he woke up early to go take a piss or something, but then they suddenly hear this loud cry. Confused, they go outside the tent to find a little black-haired baby sitting in a pile of Noct's clothes. It's obvious who this baby is, but...

How'd he get that way?

Now the guys have a baby on their hands, no clue how Noct got this way and no clue how to change him back. And since, magically, he's not very powerful at all at this age, they can't even do so much as call their weapons out. Time to learn how to be dads until Noctis eventually turns back...if he ever turns back.

+++++++ Noct as a baby is a plump, rosy ball of sunshine and way too photogenic for his own good and yes Prompto is taking advantage of that

+++++++ when Noct babbles, Ignis responds to him as if he's holding a normal conversation and the other two find it equal parts puzzling and hilarious

OK SO I'm loving all these Dad!Cor fics, BUT WHAT IF REGIS DECIDED TO TAKE IN BABY PROMPTO WHEN HE WAS TAKEN FROM NIFLHEIM!

His reasoning would be that the child would be safer in the Citadel rather than with the people, especially if his origins are discovered. Or he and his wife had planned on having more children, and this is his chance to give Noctis a sibling.

+Noctis being a couple years(or more) older and being proud of his cute baby brother
++Noct puts aside his teen moodiness sometimes for family dinners cuz Prompto loves his big bro and dad so much
+++Prompto not liking when Chancellor Izunia visits cuz that guy is creepy Iggy, can I go play in my room please?
++++kidnapping attempts, cuz he'd still be a prince

At the tail end of the host's general address, Ignis caught Prompto dozing off against his leg. He was surreptitiously nudged awake and waved up with a hand. They'd already worked out a rhythm for Ignis's nonverbal commands: the important thing was establishing Ignis's experience and status among the others by appearing impeccably behaved and imitating others in the Chief's social circle. That went for the mundane stuff as well as their slightly freakier territory. So when Ignis presented a signal with no obvious aim, Prompto would freely act in service to those goals, and Ignis in turn would play along with whatever course of action Prompto chose to take, creating the illusion of a perfectly-trained slave, attuned to the man's every need.

Grateful to have something to do, Prompto took his time returning. He'd seen the night before that he wouldn't be permitted to approach the servers or tables directly, so he edged his way towards the back side doors until a helpful member of kitchen staff intercepted him to press a sparkling beverage and tiny plate of hors d'oeuvres into his hands. He risked a tiny, grateful smile at the woman, who bore a thin silver collar. She glanced between the black leather at Prompto's own throat and wrist and his revealing getup, and offered a blank stare in the general direction of his nose in return. The room erupted in applause behind them as the speech came to its end.

He retreated to where Ignis stood. The man was unfairly attractive, conversing pleasantly with a small group of gross men thrice their age, all of their beady little eyes sparkling in enchantment thanks to whatever genius bullshit he was spinning. Prompto served him silently. This time, Ignis waved him away as he began to kneel again, and Prompto, momentarily lost, looked in the direction of the gesture to see a line of other young men in tight shorts standing against the wall at the very back. He glanced from side to side.

Just as he remembered, standing turned out to be infinitely better than kneeling. Although he was definitely shifting his weight more often than any of his neighbors, who seemed to have mastered the art of becoming human statues. Prompto had no clue how they managed it. Not being able to talk drained the energy right out of him. Bizarrely, though, he felt nothing if not even more antisocial. He'd barely said two words to Iggy at breakfast. They had to survive a whole weekend of this?

One day down, two to go. He cultivated a series of backstories for the people he observed, standing in the shadows with the other slaves. Stuff like Personally killed furry animal for ugly hat, and From Duscae, on vacation, irrational fear of gondolas, even Made a million bucks off the day Insomnia-

Across the hall, he saw Ignis shaking the hand of one of his pack of fans. Prompto quickly rolled his shoulders before stepping out of line and making his way back. The leash swung with every step, tapping against his chest. Ignis completed his goodbyes and Prompto once again took up his place as the man's shadow.

They wound up with the elevator to themselves; as soon as the doors closed, he couldn't help but relax, shuffle in place a little bit, tap his hands against his sides, seeking an outlet for the nervous energy that had been building all day.

Ignis carefully avoided looking at him, but murmured just under his breath, "Careful, now. Cameras."

Prompto stilled immediately. Ignis said something else, the words so quiet he couldn't quite catch them over the low jazz playing out of the elevator speakers. Before Prompto could respond, the door tone sounded and they were moving across the body of the welcome lobby, past oversized wall sconces and line after shiny line of ottoman seats. Prompto tried to keep pace with Ignis's long strides and avoid tripping over his own feet.

They took a cab to the arena, Prompto turning red where he perched. Based on the open behavior of the old bastards in the play party, he'd been prepared for transportation to get awkward. Like, curling up at Ignis's feet or something, the thought of which sent a hot rush through him. This car didn't have that kind of room, though.

Prompto shifted on the itchy woolen blanket their driver had insisted on laying down before waving him into the backseat. His face burned and he kept his head downturned so that as little of him was visible from the rearview mirror as possible. On the drive, he found once again he couldn't restrain himself from tapping his leg, worrying his hands back and forth as slowly as possible in his lap.

The cab stopped and when Prompto stepped out the driver aimed a scowl at his lowered gaze as though his very presence had introduced unspeakable contagion to the man's vehicle, and slammed the door shut. Ignis handed the driver a wad of bills and bid his gratitude before gathering himself. Then he glanced back at Prompto, the first time since leaving the hotel room. Ignis held out a hand. Prompto's own twitched automatically in response, and he raised his hand, hardly daring to breathe – until the tiniest shake of Ignis's head aborted his forward movement and he lowered it back down.

Almost imperceptibly, Ignis tipped his chin to Prompto's left. and he understood. The waiting hand remained upraised between their bodies. Prompto averted his gaze, unwinding the smooth strap of the leash from his left wrist, and placed it into Ignis's grip. Ignis gave it a quick pull and they were off.

A short walk up the arena steps later, they were seen to Besithia's box by the same personal slave that had attended him the night before. The balding Besithia greeted Ignis personally, wheezing out his cover name with enthusiasm as though they hadn't just met the night before, and looked Prompto up and down with a leer so hungry Prompto had to suppress an involuntary shudder. Three other guests were seated at leather bar chairs along the far wall, which was just a window looking out on the coliseum. The other three walls served as home to three televisions, a stocked bar, and a pristine white couch, in clockwise order. Past the couch on the left, a small hallway extended. The room sat multiple levels up, placing them at the vantage point to spectate the events below.

Prompto twitched when Ignis handed his leash to Besithia's slave, having immediately tuned out the two men. He was led to the left hallway. On the right was a restroom, and on the left, an elegant metal structure resembling a wrought-iron fence with the three leashes of the other guests' slaves affixed. They all had the same neutral, invisible expression Prompto was becoming used to. As Besithia's slave wound Prompto's own around an open bar, tugging it tight to check the knot, his stomach flipped over. He lowered himself to the hallway floor beside the others, mimicking the straight-backed pose each somehow maintained.

An announcer shouted something on all three of the TVs, and whatever happened next resulted in an explosion of screaming and cheering from the arena below. Prompto heard Ignis comment on it, but couldn't hear well enough over all the other noise in the room to make out what he was saying. He stared at his hands where they sat balled atop his thighs, and focused, trying to tune out the TV and the other guests.

"Marvelous, isn't it?" Besithia was saying. "It's as they say: Nature takes its proper course. You see, you're winning already. I knew you had a clever look about you, Amicus."

He heard Ignis respond. "I find, Chief Besithia, that it is that unpredictable element of chance in which lies the real excitement."

"Not clever, then, but lucky," the target said. "Some say luck is the result of being clever enough to plan for unforeseen obstacles."

"I may be quite clever, indeed, if that's the case," Ignis said smoothly. Prompto could hear the same self-deprecating undertone he used when complimented on his appearance. Six, he was excelling at this. "On the other hand –" another roar of crowd noise rippled through the booth. "– more medals, my friend, seem to have slipped through your fingers." Besithia cursed. Prompto huffed in amusement, then panicked, stiffening in his position despite the protests of his knees.

Another of the guests spoke up. "And you've won again! Why, even having chosen a losing breeder. Tusk 'til Dawn haven't taken a single match all season. What do you know that we don't?"

"As you well know, I am a newcomer to Altissia," Ignis said. "I merely liked the sound of the name."

The old men cracked up at that, for some reason. Prompto fought to keep a smile from his face. Classic Iggy.

The betting and banter continued over the continued sounds of battle blaring over the television. Prompto alternated between listening to Ignis and the announcer's commentary, listening without really paying attention to the fights. As a few rounds passed, the guest who'd questioned Ignis about his bet became increasingly agitated as his losses mounted, howling. He finally lost the last of his entrance pool at the fifth match, and Prompto heard the crash of hard glass meeting harder floor. Onscreen and faintly through the glass, the horn of the arena sounded, denoting intermission.

Prompto wondered, almost distantly, which of the other slaves was owned by this man.

Besithia laughed, a crawling, dry sound that stood the hair on the back of Prompto's neck on end. "Curb the whimpering, you daft man. It flatters you not. What must our newcomer think?"

"I assure you, I am intimately acquainted with such loss," Ignis said. "My sympathies."

"Speaking of luck, yours continues to stupefy in defiance of all odds," Besithia said. "You're quite certain you have nothing to share?"

Ignis laughed, then, himself, tittered and deflected until he'd steered the conversation back towards maximizing wartime profit. Even the angry guest perked back up, the other two joining their conversation.

It was at the five-minute call for patrons to return to their seats that Besithia's slave returned to the hallway to unhook the leashes attached to Prompto and the others, unnecessarily tugging them up. The slave dropped the leashes, Prompto's falling silently against his body. For the first time, Prompto noticed a geometric tattoo against the pale skin of the boy's wrist. He almost slapped his hand over the wristband on his right on pure instinct, though he felt like a fool immediately for it.

He still didn't know what they were being retrieved for. Prompto remembered the party of the previous night. Ignis's palm against his stomach. How much of the BDSM stuff was "secret sadist club only" material? Did the arena have a policy against public exhibitionism, or did the booth make it fair game? Did human laws even apply to the enslaved? For probably the fifth time that night, Prompto wished he'd tried to learn more when he'd agreed to this.

The others were tying off their leashes, so he took his time winding it around his wrist again. He mocked himself mentally as he went. A weekend in character! It'll be like a convention! It's like dressing up for the Assassin's Festival!

Fortunately, he'd been led in last, so last he was to follow the others, trying to move his fingers imperceptibly at his sides as an outlet for the urge to fidget and tap. He'd take his cues from them, and well, he knew what he was getting into. If he and Iggy ended up with weird sex memories, well – they'd work it out. Or never talk about it again. And maybe, if Iggy gave him time off again tomorrow, it would become yet more material for the bad train to pervert town.

His rising panic defused itself as the slaves took their places before their masters' feet and nobody reached for their zipper. Prompto knelt before Ignis, facing him this time, like the others. He kept his gaze on his friend's shoes, not trusting himself to risk a look up.

It was only when he caught a glimpse of Besithia shifting around in his peripheral vision that Prompto was given an explanation for their relocation. Besithia's slave had gotten up on his hands and knees and Prompto slowly repositioned himself to follow suit. He kept looking straight ahead, trying to watch without watching despite the growing sensation of his own tongue drying inside his mouth. Besithia lifted one leg, then the other, and let them fall on the slave's waiting back.

Just as Prompto saw the second leg fall, he felt a weight land across the middle of his bare spine. Then another. The texture of Ignis's sole tugged at his skin, so that as Ignis found a comfortable position, Prompto could feel the heel digging into his skin and twisting it around. A scratchy film of grit coated the material.

Ignis crossed one leg over the other. Distantly, Prompto heard the announcer calling the next match over the television speakers. The sounds of the game resumed, and soon, so did the five men's conversation, bantering leisurely back and forth while the slaves maintained their positions, having not said a word about the change in arrangements.

Besithia said something. The man across from Ignis responded. Prompto wasn't able to focus on anything but the weight of Ignis's legs on his back. Ignis had been out all morning, likely walking back and forth through parts of the resort. Then they'd been to that other thing. And the taxi. The street by the gondola stop outside had been polka-dotted with puddles. Ignis had stepped in any manner of things.

Just then, the audience cheered for the end of a match. Besithia spoke again. Ignis laughed at whatever was said over a sip at his drink, a theatrical mirth that traveled down his whole body. As Prompto's arms and kees shook, he wondered what could be going through Ignis's head. If he was constantly weighing options and strategizing, even now. It had almost been too easy to kiss up to this Besithia guy. Prompto just needed to get into his rooms tonight, show him a good time, figure out where their objective was being kept. His chance to shine. They still had plenty of time to pull this off.

Above him, Ignis laughed again. Prompto looked down at his hands, splayed before him on the polished floor, and shut his eyes.

AO3 LINK:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/13379748

(ardyn/noctis, 2700 words, non-con obviously)

I'm assuming Noctis still had to get stabbed to finish off Ardyn in the alternate ending, only this time they were able to heal him with something so he wouldn't stay down for good. And if anyone was going to do the CPR duties, it'd be Ignis. Because he's the guy who probably studied medicine the best. Also because I'm pretty sure he'd ask to do the "honors" anyway. Bonus points if it's Noctis's first kiss.

I ADORE IT.

Pre-game Gladnis have recently got together. It's public knowledge so they don't need to hide it; when not on duty they'll hold hands walking around the Citadel or exchange chaste kisses. Everyone is happy for them.

Except Noctis.

It can either be because he himself secretly has feelings for Ignis, or it can be more fraternal love and he just doesn't want to share the attention of the person who's been at his side as long as he can remember.

Either way, he does his level best to interrupt every minute of intimacy they have. Not looking for him to be a total jerk; just someone who is struggling to process his feelings.

Someone eventually helps him come to terms with it and be happy for the pair.

::flailing:: oh Astrals, yes!!

+1000000000

BLESS YOU!!!!

They finally get some time to themselves stopping at one of the local towns. Gladio is off doing what Gladio's do. Ignis is off getting more food ingredients and Noctis and Prompto stay behind to fool around.

Prompto starts to give Noctis a blowjob, but during it he starts to hum the chocobo song with Noctis' dick in his mouth. It can either ruin the mood or make it better since it's prompto being prompto.

Bonus points: Now whenever Noctis hears Prompto singing the chocobo song he gets turned on.

King Regish health is failing and he can't keep the Wall up anymore so it falls to Noctis to do it. They don't tell anyone else about it because they don't want anyone to know just how bad the King's health is, so Nifleheim has no idea just what went wrong when they kill the King and the Wall doesn't fall.

poor them x.x it looks an awful situation to be in.

5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people getting it on.

Bonus
+ If he quietly stands guard in front of the room, both for the sake of the couple's privacy and to spare others the porn show
+++ If he delivers snarky advice either afterwards or upon arrival
++++ If he manages to walk in on Noctis not once but at least twice
+++++ If he complains about it to Clarus afterwards and they end up swapping gossip. (Extrabonus for Clarus's expression if Cor walks in on Gladio)

I'm fully intrigued by this

+1000

no, no, not that kink — the OTHER kink
Gladio licking up Noctis’ face and hairline
the cat kind of grooming

you know, like,
nya

Would you be ok with Cor/Clarus being together?

If so, I may take a crack at this!

Because while he's got his nice fancy chair back I want Noctis making someone act as his other throne.

OP here: Dear author anon, I'd love this as they are my OTP.

The docks of Altissia were strung with flower garlands, looped over balconies and lamp posts. Ignis had to stop twice to examine the lights that had been wired through them, casting the docks into a patchwork of pale blues and pinks and yellows. The crowds were thicker than before, with groups of tourists wedging themselves between Ignis and Basil every few steps, and in the end, Basil had to take Ignis' hand and guide him down a series of small, winding staircases beyond the main boardwalk. They stopped at a canal just wide enough to fit a small, rickety motorboat with a cartoon hammerhead shark painted on one side, knocking against the concrete wall of the canal with a hollow boom. The man at the helm looked up from his cigarette as Basil and Ignis appeared, and breathed out a great plume of smoke.

"This the nephew?" he asked. His face crawled with wrinkles, and his hair was bleached by the sun, stark white against his weather-worn brow. "Don't see the resemblance, myself."

Basil tossed his bag onto the deck. "Adopted," he said, and the man laughed, short and harsh. Basil stepped into the boat and held out a hand for Ignis.

The ride to Lucis was choppy and slow, with several stops to wait for the Altissian patrol to pass, and then they were out on the open sea. Basil stretched his long body out at the front of the boat, fitting a black sleep mask over his eyes, and Ignis sat by his feet, watching the sky wheel about them as they set a course for Lucis.

He must have slept at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, the sunrise was dawning over Angelgard. The boat rocked against the skinny dock of Galdin Quay, and the captain was sitting on a bench with Basil, smoking up a small storm cloud. Ignis winced and crawled onto the dock.

A group of Glaives waited for them, including one man with dark braids and a tattoo that looked vaguely familiar. He winked and tossed Ignis a black lump of clothes.

"Congratulations, kid," he said. "For today only, you're one of us."

A woman behind him smirked, and Ignis unfolded the jacket at the top of the bundle to reveal the silver and black uniform of the Kingsglaive.

It was amazing, really, the change that a uniform could make. The men at the border said nothing when they saw Ignis and Basil sitting in the back of the van with the other Glaives--Crowe, Libertus, and Pelna, they said, with Ignis' old magic instructor Nyx at the wheel. Ignis could see nothing of the city this time around, but hurriedly changed back into his clothes while Pelna held a hand over Crowe and Libertus' eyes.

They were dropped off at the University, just a few blocks from the Citadel. "You don't have to," Basil said, when Ignis hesitated at the door. "You can always come back another day."

"No," Ignis said. "No, I believe I can do this."

They had another hour before Ignis' exam, and Ignis spent that hour poring through university pamphlets, reading through every possible math and science program the school had to offer. Their physics courses seemed to be the most appealing, but he supposed he'd have to take poli-sci as well, if he were to help Noctis as king. He stuffed the pamphlets in his bag and tried not to look too terrified as he entered the exam room.

He finished the maths portion of the exam so quickly that he had to read over it once just in case he'd made some terrible mistake. The other test takers were still scribbling away, some with looks of dawning panic, others grim and focused. Ignis placed his maths booklet in the designated box and tried not to notice the stares that were leveled his way.

The only subject that gave him trouble was Lucian history, but Ignis figured he'd still done a passable job. Even with the delay in the last portion of the test, he finished long before the others, and left wondering yet again if he'd skipped some vital step.

"How was it?" Basil asked, rising to his feet when Ignis came through the door. Ignis gave him a helpless shrug. "That's how testing goes, Ignis. I'm sure you did well."

Traffic around the Citadel was a disaster, so Ignis and Basil walked the rest of the way. They took the same side entrance Ignis remembered, up the mirrored stairway, and stopped at Basil's apartment, where Basil paused, ears bright red, as he turned the key in the lock.

The apartment had changed some in the past ten years. There was a new couch, a shiny coffee maker, more pictures on the walls. Ignis made his way to one and was startled to find the photo he'd sent to Basil three years past, before braces had ruined all hopes of taking a decent picture again. He padded over to his old room, only half listening to Basil speaking behind him.

The lights were still there, pinned up in wire constellations on the ceiling. There was a new bookcase, though, with a set of leather-bound books on the top shelf, and slimmer, glossy ones on the bottom. Ignis pulled one out and examined the cover.

"An introduction to particle physics," he said.

"I asked Lily Amicitia to find something suitable," Basil said. "If you choose to live elsewhere while you study, we can have them shipped."

Ignis gently set the book down. "No," he said. "No, I'd like to stay here. If you'll have me."

"You already know I will," Basil said. "Now, I should have enough for an early dinner before the ball. Sit down while I heat something up."

They had leftovers on the kitchen table, sitting in companionable silence as the air conditioner whirred and clicked in the walls. Ignis eyed the empty chair between them and imagined Noctis there, pushing vegetables around his plate like always and holding Ignis' hand under the table. The three of them in the living room, Noctis reading reports while Ignis did homework, Basil poring through the newspaper and trying not to act the chaperone. There, in Basil's apartment, such a dream didn't feel impossible.

After the dishes were cleared away, Basil disappeared into his bedroom. When he came out, bearing a suit on a hanger, Ignis gripped the back of his chair to steady himself.

"Princess Lunafreya sent your measurements," Basil said, grinning at Ignis' slack expression. "After all, if you're to crash an engagement party, it's only fair that you do so in style."

---

Noctis Lucis Caelum, the only son of Regis Caelum and sacrificial lamb to the altar of political engagements, slouched his way out of the safety of a gazebo and onto the dance floor. Gladio was behind him, a firm hand pressed to his shoulder blades, smirking as Noctis dragged his feet into the light.

"You're supposed to be my Shield," Noct said. "So shield me."

"That's what I'm doin,'" Gladio said. He looked like someone out of one of the ridiculous romance novels he and Noct's friend from high school bonded over, and Noct was ready to warp to the elevator and let the horde of admirers have a piece of him for a change. "You can't sulk forever, Noct."

"My whole future's being planned for me," Noct said. "Iggy hasn't written back in a month, Luna's all, all floaty and nice, and Dad's laughing at me, I swear. No, really!"

Gladio rolled his eyes. "It ain't all about you, Noct."

"Gladio." Noct turned around, placing both hands on Gladio's shoulders. "This is my birthday party. And engagement party. And the end of my life. This time? I think it is about me."

The music dimmed, then started up again, picking up a Tenebraean reel that Noct spent the last month stumbling through. The white canvas pavilion over the dance floor fluttered in the breeze, and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret emerged from the masked, glittering crowd, like a divine messenger in a transparent, feathery mask.

"Dear Noctis," she said, and took his hands. Noct gave her a shaky smile, then looked to Gladio for help. Gladio grinned.

"Go on," Gladio said, the traitor. Noct took a step to the right, and yelped as Luna took the lead instead, whirling him into the center of the dance floor.

"I know we haven't had time to talk," she said, as her skirts twisted around Noct's legs, threatening to trip him up. "But I assure you, all will be well."

"I... I mean, I do like you," Noct said. His hands felt uncomfortably clammy. "You're a good friend."

"And I hope we can stay friends," Luna said, with a twinkling smile. "But I'm afraid I will never marry."

Noct stared. Luna spun him in a circle, let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise, and let go of Noct, raising both hands in the air. Noct went staggering, dizzy and disoriented, and he spread his hands out for balance as his new, polished shoes slipped on the slick dance floor.

A hand caught him by the elbow, and Noctis fell into the vest of a suit that glimmered like a field of stars in a summer sky.

"Easy," said a warm, low voice. "I have you."

Noctis looked up into a blue mask, beyond which were the smoky green eyes of the most beautiful man Noct had ever seen in his life.

"Yeah," he said, in a breathless voice. "Yeah, I guess you do."

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Prompt Post Round Six

Re: Fill: Ignis/Prompto, undercover as owner/slave, 2/?

GladNoct, size/strength kink

Re: Fill: Ignis/Prompto, undercover as owner/slave, 2/?

Re: Fill: Ignis/Prompto, undercover as owner/slave, 2/?

gen/any, depersonalization/derealization

Re: Femme Fatale Ardyn

Gen, surprise!de-aged prince

REGIS ADOPTS PROMPTO

Re: Fill: Ignis/Prompto, undercover as owner/slave, 3/?

FILL - Re: Ardyn/Noctis, dub/noncon finger-fucking

Ignoct Alternate Ending CPR

Re: FILL - Re: Ardyn/Noctis, dub/noncon finger-fucking

Gladnis - jealous!Noctis cockblocks at every opportunity

Re: Gen, surprise!de-aged prince

Re: FILL - Re: Ardyn/Noctis, dub/noncon finger-fucking

Noctis/Prompto Blowjobs

AU Noct's the one holding the Wall up

Re: Fill: Ignis/Prompto, undercover as owner/slave, 3/?

Any/Any, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Re: AU Noct's the one holding the Wall up

GladNoct, grooming

Re: Any/Any, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Any/Noctis - Alt Ending, Riding Cowgirl

Re: Any/Any, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Fill 11/? Re: Gladio/Ignis or Ignis/Noctis - Cinderella AU