ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post

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Prompt Post

Welcome to Round One 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.
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 12/30/16: I'm looking for some help! Details here. (I'm always looking for more pinners; this is an open invitation.)

I've added/clarified some rules to make life easier to my pinners. Please refrain from changing the subject lines except when filling or updating a fill. It makes it easier for us to keep track of what we've already looked at. Thank you so much!

UPDATE 1/28/17: We've opened up a Drabble Tree post! Go check it out.

UPDATE 2/21/2017: ROUND ONE IS CLOSED FOR PROMPTS. Please feel free to continue posting fills. Round Two will open for prompts and fills on 3/1/2017.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

They. Kissed.

OMG <3

Yes please. Someone fill this.

Turns out that Prompto is a new Astral that had to take Ifrit's place due to his betrayal. His mission is to protect the Prince of Lucis and his companions. Can be Gen or Promptis.

It took a few months, but Prompto finally broke down and told Luna about the—thing—that was happening between him and Noct.

He still wasn’t sure what it was. They touched more, and Noct sat closer to him than usual when they rode the bus or sat in the back of the car. Their outings started to feel more intimate, and the meditative practices Luna had been so meticulous in explaining to Prompto turned into magically charged makeout sessions. Which… wasn’t bad, right? It just showed how much control Noct had.

It was strange, and new, and altogether confusing. Prompto had been so focused on making sure that he could help Noct fulfill his duty as the chosen king, that the idea of Noct liking him wasn’t really an option. Besides, he couldn’t help feeling a lingering sense of unease around his time in enemy hands. Caius insisted that he was perfectly human, but Prompto had nightmares of waking up with red eyes and synthetic skin and a tattoo where his soul should be.

Luna’s reaction should have been unsurprising. There were three pages of painfully awkward sexual education information and warnings to be careful, brother, followed by cautious delight and her seal of approval. She even added, scrunched down at the bottom of the letter, a hurried addition:

Ravus says of course this would happen, and not to ask him for a dowry. This is his way of saying he approves.

Prompto laughed at that, and tucked the letter away for safekeeping.

Telling Caius had led to their first all-out screaming argument, with Caius insisting that Prompto was putting himself right into the public eye and Prompto assuring him that no one could even recognize him anymore. He was consequentially grounded for two weeks, and the two of them danced around each other like twin stormclouds until Caius begrudgingly allowed Prompto to bring Noct home for dinner.

Prompto thought that had to be the most awkward thing he’d ever done, but it was nothing to match his visits to the palace.

Ignis and Gladio revealed that they’d been running a betting pool on how long it would take Prompto to notice Noct’s increasingly desperate attempts to get his attention.

“I had my bets set on the solstice,” Gladio said. “Now I have to polish Iggy’s shoes for the next three months.”

“Never bet against a Scientia,” Ignis said, baring his teeth in a smile. Prompto wasn’t sure whether to be outraged or impressed, but Noct decided for him by shoving the two into each other and using a colorful vocabulary that had Gladio doubling over with breathless laughter.

Prompto’s first meeting with the King was little better.

Prompto definitely didn’t tell Caius about that. He snuck out with Noct one afternoon and tried not to look like he was sinking into an abyss of abject terror with every step they made along the green carpeted floors of the Citadel.

“What’s wrong, Prom?” Noct asked, slipping an arm around Prompto’s waist. “You’re usually so composed.”

“Oh, you know,” Prompto said, gesturing at the empty air before them. “Meeting royalty does that to people.”

“Wait, I’m royal.”

“You don’t count.” Prompto leaned over to kiss Noct on the cheek, and was rewarded with a peck on the nose. That turned into a soft brushing of his lips against Noct’s, which then became a hot press of tongues and breath and Prompto’s arms bracing them against the stone wall of the hallway as Noct’s hands traveled down his waist to his hips—

“My,” said a dry, highly amused voice from down the hall. “This certainly is an interesting first impression.”

They flew apart. Prompto stumbled, and Noct swung an arm around him to keep him steady, and the two looked up with flushed cheeks and slack jaws to see the King of Lucis leaning on his cane some ten yards away.

“You must be Prompto,” he said, with a gentle smile.

“I’m going to be killed,” Prompto whispered. Noct elbowed him, and he said, “Y-yes, Your Majesty. I—I’m sorry about the—“

“A little discretion may be called for, but there’s no harm done.” The King inclined his head. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Prompto wasn’t entirely certain how he managed to survive the next two hours.

Oh, the King was nice. He was soft-spoken and conscientious, even if he did bother Noct to eat his vegetables, and didn’t mention the fact that Prompto had just been caught debauching the prince in the hallway at all. He was, however, very interested in the details of Prompto’s life.

“Do you like it here?” he asked, after a while. “Noctis says you are from Tenebrae. The adjustment to our way of life must have been a trial.”

“Um,” Prompto said, eloquently. Why did Noct have to tell his father everything? “No, Your Majesty. I mean yes, I like it here. I was too young to remember much.”

“I was a good friend to the late Queen. Just as Noctis,” the King said, nodding to his son, “is good friends with her children.”

“Just Luna, Dad,” said Noct.

“Of course,” said the King. The vague, distant look he gave Prompto sent chills over his skin. “So. You’re graduating soon. Any plans for the future?”

The conversation turned to less dangerous lines of thought after that, but Prompto couldn’t bring himself down from the cold hand of fear that gripped his chest.

Noct rubbed his back in sympathy as they left the Citadel. “Man, I am so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know my dad was going to turn that into an interrogation.”

“Well, I am dating the prince,” Prompto said. He stopped when he felt Noct’s hand drop away, and turned to face him. Noct looked at him with a funny, quivery sort of smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you are.” Prompto sighed and walked up to him, carding his fingers through Noct’s fine, dark hair.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Noct said, in little more than a whisper.

“Sure,” said Prompto. He kissed Noct slowly, deep and soft and full of promise. “It’s a date.”

Oh my god this is so painful, my thirst for this prompt is endless!

This is just the best!

YES YES YES

Second this would be so cool and would make sense.

This is just the best like can't fully describe how wonderful it is

Does OP mind gen? I just made my chocobros go for 8 days without sleep and they were FILTHY so I'm particularly inspired at this moment.

We're venturing on endgame spoilers territory now, folks!

--------

“I can’t believe this.”

Prompto sat on the couch of his and Caius’ small apartment, looking like he’d spent the last twenty-four hours being stamped on by a behemoth. His eyeliner was smudged damply along his temples, his eyes were red-rimmed and baggy with lack of sleep, and he trembled like he’d just run a marathon without a stop for water. Caius sat next to him and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“It’s part of the accord for peace, Prompto,” he said, in his low, even tone. “There was no way any of you could have known.”

Prompto scrubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Caius,” he said, in a wretched voice. “My sister is marrying my boyfriend.”

Caius sighed deeply and rubbed Prompto’s back. “I… I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

Prompto wailed into his hands.

“They’re doing this on purpose,” he said, after a while, hiccupping for breath. “They want her stuck in Insomnia, so she can’t help Noct form the covenants.”

“Prompto, most of Niflheim thinks the covenants and the Astrals are exaggerated fairytales. They can’t possibly—“

“That has to be part of it, though.” Prompto struggled to pull himself together. “I’ll have to… have to help them. No one knows who I am yet. Even if I don’t have her magic, I know the language the Astrals use. I know everything about them. I’m from the Oracle’s line.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going, Prompto.”

Prompto was quiet for a minute, breathing deeply through his hands. He straightened at last, and gave Caius a quivering smile.

“Don’t worry, Caius,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything dangerous.”

It was a terrible lie, but it had to be said.

Noct was about as devastated about the news as Prompto. He was in a black mood for weeks, even through the celebration for his twentieth birthday, and told Prompto more times than he could count that he was not going to let the Empire make him and Luna enter a loveless marriage “just for kicks!” Prompto, for once, didn’t have any advice to give. The last letter Luna sent him was full of reassurances and cryptic hints to “pay attention to the treaty, Sol,” and he couldn’t get the idea that Niflheim was trying to restrict Luna’s movements out of his mind.

One day, after he and Noct had locked themselves away in an unused guest room in the Citadel before yet another nerve-wracking dinner with King Regis, Prompto felt the anxious restlessness he’d been holding back creep up on him at last. He disentangled himself from Noct’s bony limbs and took a moment to look down on him. Noct had his hands curled up near his face, and his hair, unmade by Prompto’s fingers, hung loose over his eyes and cheeks. Prompto dragged the discarded blankets over him, and Noct rolled closer, grasping for Prompto’s bare thigh.

“Don’t go,” the prince mumbled.

“I’ll be back,” said Prompto. He kissed Noct on the forehead and dropped to his feet on the rug, ignoring Noct’s dejected whimper. He shivered as he threw on his clothes, and stepped out into the cool hallways of the Citadel.

He wasn’t sure where he was going. Maybe to the training yards, to see Gladio, or to seek out Ignis for one of his leftover pastries. Whatever the case, he let his feet lead him down the endless, curving halls.

Turn left, he thought. He turned down a corridor that led to a series of winding stairs. Why had he done this? It made no sense—he didn’t recognize this part of the Citadel at all. He almost turned right around when he felt a tug in his mind and unthinkingly obeyed, darting down a narrow stairwell that was less decorated and grand than the hall from which it branched.

He felt like he was walking through a dream. Every time he considered stopping, or turning back, or going down another hall, he would feel that nagging thought in his mind and dutifully follow it. He should have been afraid, but all he could feel was a strange, bubbling anticipation.

At last, he stood before two doors, which were locked by a DNA recognition control pad. He frowned. End of the line, then.

Touch it, said the voice in his mind. He pressed his thumb to the pad before he could stop himself. The pad glowed a faint gold, and the doors eased open.

Before him, casting spots of light over the walls like the pattern of waves on the ocean floor, floated the crystal.

“Oh, hells,” he whispered. He walked forward, and felt like he was stepping through a wall of water. He broke through the other side only a few feet from the crystal, and raised trembling fingers to its surface.

Greetings, child of the Oracle.

Prompto jumped. The voice that rang out in his mind was deep, and clear as a low bell. It took Prompto a moment to realize that it had spoken in the language of the Astrals, and that he had been able to understand without difficulty.

He felt a glimmer of pride at that. Not bad, for a self-taught man.

“Greetings,” he said, fumbling over the words. It was hard to speak in the Astral’s language—it was simple, but deceptively so, and it had not been made for human tongues. “May I ask… who…?”

I am Bahamut, the keeper of the crystal. You do not know this?

“No, I, I do. I apologize, sir.” Prompto cursed himself inwardly, and put it down to nerves.

You bear a question, child. Ask it of me.

I do? Prompto thought. He took a moment to consider this. After a long pause, he nodded and stepped a little closer.
“I am a companion to the King of Light,” he said. “The Oracle, my…” he struggled to find the word. “Blood? My blood kin? She has the knowledge of what the King must undergo to destroy the Scourge. I know some, but not all. If I wish to help him… I need to know. What will happen after he forms the covenant and takes on the power of the crystal?”

There was a very long silence.

There is a price, Bahamut said, and showed him.

The vision swirled through Prompto’s mind like a maelstrom, terrible in its intensity, and he found himself slowly collapsing onto the floor before the crystal. He had none of his sister’s power or Noct’s magic, and even with the breathing and mental exercises, the sheer strength of the crystal’s focus was nearly too much. At last it left him, and he looked down at his hands braced on the floor, and the drops of sweat dotting the stone. No, it wasn’t sweat. He licked dry lips and tasted the warm salt of tears. He kept his head bowed when he spoke again.

“This can’t be the price,” he said. His voice was cracking, and he knew what Bahamut was going to say.

To slay the Accursed, the King of Light must follow him into the plane beyond. It is inevitable, child.

“There isn’t another way? Can… can I pay the price? Can I go, and the King—“

You asked for the truth, child. I do not taunt mortals with deception.

“I… I understand.” Prompto swallowed around his dry throat, and sat up on his knees. “Thank you, sir. But if it’s possible, my offer stands.”

The sound that echoed in Prompto’s mind could almost be called a laugh.

Go in peace, child.

The presence in Prompto’s mind faded, but he waited a while before daring to stand. He rose shakily, and braced himself on his knees for a full minute to catch his breath.

“It takes much out of you, does it not?” Prompto turned too quickly, and was overcome by a wave of dizziness. The King stood in the doorway, one hand on his cane, the other held against the stone of the door. Prompto immediately dropped to his knees again, and the King made a disapproving sound.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” Prompto said. “I shouldn’t be here. Please, I—“ The King raised a hand, and he fell silent, heart in his throat.

“You have every right to be here, your highness,” King Regis said.

Prompto felt as though he were drowning in the open air.

“Come here, son. Princes don’t kneel.”

Prompto rose like a marionette, and lurched into the doorway at King Regis’ side.

“How…?” he gasped.

“Give me credit.” The King’s smile was not unkind. “I knew the moment I saw you. You are the spitting image of your mother at your age. The rest was a matter of asking the right questions.”

Prompto tried to keep control over his breathing, but it was still uneven and shaky. “I’m sorry I lied to you. And to Noct. But Luna, and Ravus, they—“

“I know the risks, Solaris.” Prompto realized with a start that this was the first time anyone had said that name aloud in nearly fifteen years. Despite his attempts to hold it in, he felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. “I will not betray your location to the Empire.”

The King placed a hand on the side of Prompto’s face, brushing back his tear-damp hair with a thumb. “It is my greatest regret that I could not protect your family from the Empire.” The King’s eyes were shadowed with sorrow. “I can only hope now that I can ensure your safety, and happiness, in the times to come.”

“I am happy,” Prompto said, tears streaming down his cheeks. The King chuckled. It was strange, because in a way, Prompto wasn’t lying. He was terrified of the future, worried about Noctis, aching with the knowledge of what Bahamut had revealed to him. But right now, with the sound of his old name on the King’s lips, and the promise of safety in a time when war closed in on every angle, he was gripped at last by an overpowering joy.

Gladio is angry at Noctis. Noctis is angry that Gladio is angry at him. And while fighting the Malboro to get to the Tomb, it breathes a gold-speckled cloud over Noctis and Gladio, both of whom were the more active participants in the battle.

Yeah, it's sex pollen.

Gladio angrily gives Noctis the D. Noctis is angry at himself for wanting the D. And they're in a swamp for fuck's sake.

The Malboro can wander off or participate or whatever author!anon finds more convenient/fun.

A part of me (the one that got heartbroken because of the end of the game) really wishes that there is another way. Thank you for writing this.

UHGHGHHG I AM LOVING THIS SO MUCH

AU where Nyx fails to defeat Drautos, and Drautos keeps Nyx for himself. Nyx soon realizes he needs his ex-cap to survive (i guess leading to stockholm syndrome) but maybe he tells himself he'll do this in order to get Drautos to trust him before he plans on killing him in the end. Up to writer if he fails again or succeeds.

Bonus
1. Nyx having some pent up frustration about everything and fights him at any chance
2. Drautos force feeds since Nyx be like 'i rather die then eat whatever shit you got there' attitude
3. Nyx catches him in a moment of 'weakness' like casually reading a book or sleeping

yes please someone just make this happen. i really want some nice sibling bonding

Okay, it's the second potential!author here. I've started writing possibly the tamest omegaverse fic in existence - I don't yet know if I'll write any smut, and I've also opted out of including mpreg, so yeah, this is tame - but err, I figured I might as well share it here *shrugs* I'm at 5k and counting atm sooooo we'll see where this goes :) Oh, also, I'm partial to poly chocobros, I hope that's all right ^^;

---

Gladio is fifteen when he Presents. By doing so, he defies every expectation set upon him as the Prince’s Sworn Shield and tarnishes the Amicitia name forever. The only mercy is that he is at home at the time, pacing the walls of his bedroom with the restlessness of all teenagers in the final days before they Present. He has been uncomfortable for days, tired but beyond sleep, irritable and hungry as though puberty has come all at once, his body shifting and stretching and changing as it settles into its Role. The itching is the worst, a hot rash beneath his skin. So accustomed to cold showers he has become this week, the frigid water his only relief in the gruelling days of the Sworn Shield, Gladio doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to face a hot bath or a sauna again.

He takes respite in the knowledge that, as an Alpha (for Amicitias have always been Alphas), he won’t have to suffer through heats. The prospect of knotting is enough to make his head spin (and that is a conversation with the Royal Nurse that Gladio won’t soon forget), but Omegas definitely have it bad. If heats are anything remotely akin to this agonising week of sweating through three layers of clothes and nauseating at every whiff of perfume, then he doesn’t envy Omegas in the slightest.

It’s just as well that he’s an Alpha - for Amicitias have always been and always will be Alphas.

Until Gladio.

Dinner that night is an awkward affair. Iris, bless her naive, seven-year-old heart, doesn’t yet have the nose to distinguish between the overbearing Alphas, the subtle Omegas, and the almost scentless Betas. She knows her brother has been unwell and she is old enough to understand that something important is happening, so she slides a few parsnips onto Gladio’s plate because she knows he likes them - and it helps that their father is Freaking Out in the drawing room, so he isn’t there to disapprove.

Gladio tries to smile. “Thanks kiddo.” He shoves a parsnip into his mouth and ruffles his sister’s hair, and she lights up like a moogle, cheerful and so easy to please.

The same cannot be said for their father - the left hand and Shield to the King - whose dinner sits untouched at the opposite side of the table. With their family being so tightly woven into the daily duties of the Royal Household, nights where they can all sit together to share a meal are scarce. Both Gladio and Iris have grown up seeing more of each other than their father, but it has always been that way for Amicitias, and always will be. As the Prince grows up, Gladio, too, will spend less and less time in the family home, and then Iris herself will find her niche in service to the line of Lucis. Most likely, she will decide between following their father into the Council or Gladio and their late mother into the Crownsguard, and Gladio pushes a potato around his plate at the thought of his uncertain future.

The Crownsguard is not exclusive to Alphas, but the number of Betas is few. Whether or not there are any Omegas - any other Omegas - is the reason for the coffee-stained paperwork and the ink bespattering all over the carpet by their father’s desk. The carpet may be salvageable but redoing the paperwork is a few hours’ work, and Gladio hadn’t exactly had the time to calm the fuck down before barging into his father’s office with his pheromones a storm.

It hadn’t been the most dignified moment for either Amicitia. At any other time, Gladio’s father would have been swift to reprimand him for charging in. Gladio supposes it just goes to show how unforeseen his Presenting as an Omega had been.

An Omega. He’s an Omega.

He would smash his head against the table were Iris not still puppy-dog eyeing him to eat his parsnips.

“You are excused from your morning duties, Gladiolus,” Clarus announces upon his return, and he would seem his characteristically composed self were there not coffee dotted across his forehead. “I have scheduled you in with a nurse after breakfast.”

Gladio fights back a cringe. The infirmary is located on the other side of the citadel.

“He will - attend you here,” his father clarifies in a faltering tone, his cough encouraging Gladio to better smother his look of horror. “During which we will discuss how best to adjust to this change.”

Clarus resumes his meal with little fanfare, as though his sheer force of will to remain level-headed in light of the evening’s drama will exorcise Gladio’s new stench from the dining room. Pointedly, he doesn’t wipe the coffee from his face nor comment on Iris’ miraculous lack of parsnips, and if the pretence is supposed to soothe Gladio into feeling assured, then it’s doing a shit job of it.

“What did the King have to say?” Gladio urges, refusing to believe that his father hasn’t already discussed the topic with the reigning monarch - his closest friend and father to the boy that Gladio is sworn to protect. Gladio’s continued service in the Crownsguard is not the only matter up for debate; he is the Prince’s Sworn Shield, that’s his purpose, that’s his life. Destined to be an Alpha as all Sworn Shields have been, he was ideal for the role. But now, as an Omega, will he be considered incapable?

Omegas have the right to fight for what they believe in just as any Alpha or Beta, but Gladio doesn’t think he knows of any Omegas in the military. Is that because their typically softer, more subservient personalities compels them elsewhere - into medicine, teaching, or administrative work - or does the military play an underhand role in deterring them from service?

Gladio wishes he knew more about Omegas - and not just how to care for one. He was assumed to be an Alpha and brought up that way, and if his father’s disapproving silence is enough of a hint, then things are about to change.

“What the King and I discuss is between ourselves,” Clarus reprimands, an eyebrow pushing wrinkles up into his brow. Gladio doesn’t bow under the stare as he usually would - as he usually wouldn’t, something in him yearning to yield to to the Alpha at the table - but he doesn’t kid himself to think that he’s victorious when his father sighs.

“I have informed the King of your Presentation and we will consider the implications of this for your position as Sworn Shield. Your appointment with the nurse will be beneficial in reviewing your options.”

“Options?”

“Yes Gladio, you have options,” Clarus says, and here his tone softens from a Royal Councilman of Insomnia to the father who refuses to eat the peas on his plate. It is the voice he usually wields at home; the one that praises Gladio’s training and ushers Iris into bed. And yet it is still an Alpha voice, ending a discussion swift and firm.

Gladio’s never been any good at ending arguments. He tries not to let his emotions get the best of him but he feels with such passion that he cannot always control it. He had thought his need to protect was an Alpha trait, but he is not calm like his father, like the King, nor the many Alphas in the Guard. Emotion drives him to study and train, and perhaps that should’ve been a clue all along.

“Dad’s not eaten his peas,” Iris admonishes, singing the reprimand with a childish tune.

Gladio smiles.

Clarus doesn’t, but only because his face morphs into one of hyperbolic affront. “Well Iris hasn’t eaten her parsnips.”

Iris laughs and waves a fork over her plate. “I haven’t got any parsnips!” she declares with all the cunning of a seven-year-old.

“Oh, silly me,” Clarus replies, nodding at her observation. Both of his eyebrows rise this time, and Iris squirms in her seat. Gladio’s been on the receiving end of that look too many times to express how it makes him want to melt through the table and onto the floor. “You’re right. I wonder where they’ve gone.”

Gladio looks down to the pile of parsnips of his plate and then replies with a straight face: “Beats me. Iris, you seen ‘em?”

“Nope!” she chimes. “I think a moogle ate them!”

“Is that so,” their father concedes, and normality is temporarily restored.

-xv-

i love this and i am gonna try and fill it but its gonna be p long and i dunno

when that will happen

AAAAAAAA I look forward to it!

am op, am screaming

ahhh op here, I woke up to this and im just gfyredhuks. I love that Ravus teased him a little about the whole dowry thing and that Luna was so supporting. And the King apologizing for not saving his family and how Prompto looks just like his mother at his age. Can't wait to see more. :')

So this probably, most definitely isn't what you were after, but I hope you like this minifill anyway!

Cross-posted to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9489797

----

Eight-year-old Gladio is a firm believer of love at first sight. A child of books and libraries, ink-splattered hands and papercut fingers, cosy corners and armchairs with squishy, flower-printed mouths that could swallow him whole, Gladio knows a thing or two about love. On the other hand, he is the son of a Lord and Lady, the heir to the Amicitia legacy, and sworn to the Royal Prince of Lucis, and as such, he doesn’t have many friends. Some of his tutors are cool, and some of them are scary, and he loves his parents very much despite how busy they are - despite how weird they’ve been these past months as his mother blows up like a balloon.

“Do you remember what we told you about having a little brother or sister?” his mother says the first time he asks, fingertips trailing through Gladio’s choppy hair. He’s a little too old to sit on her lap anymore, but he squidges up beside her on the sofa and nods, unsure what that has to do with her getting so big.

“Well,” she says, laughing softly at the scrunch of his nose. “Your little brother or sister’s in here. They’re not ready to be born yet, and it takes a long while for them to be big enough. So I have to keep them safe.”

“Like a Shield?” Gladio asks, thinking of his father’s duty to the Crown.

His mother laughs. It’s the laugh she uses when she wants to tell his father something funny later. “Not quite, although I’m sure your father would disagree. King Regis was quite a troublemaker in his youth, I hear.”

“His youth?”

“When he was younger,” his mother clarifies, bopping Gladio on the nose. “Like you.”

Gladio still doesn’t understand. “But King Regis is old,” he argues, thinking of the King’s silver-tipped hair. That means he’s old, doesn’t it? Plus, he’s the King. Kings have to be old, don’t they?

“He wasn’t always old,” his mother corrects, and Gladio wonders if that means that the King’s hair wasn’t always grey either. “Even you were a baby once.”

“I don’t remember,” he says, certainly hoping that she’s wrong. Babies are small and ugly and they cry a lot - and he’s not any of those things. He’s tall and strong and he showers every day and brushes his teeth twice a day. Still, his mother’s never wrong about anything - she even lets them have fruit smoothies and waffles for breakfast on Fridays.

“And a good thing too! Who wants to remember nappies?” his mother replies, laughing again. She’s been doing that a lot more lately; rubbing her tummy and eating odd things too. Gladio’s father won’t let him eat anything that she does now, but he’s not sure he wants to anyway.

He’s not really sure what’s going on, but it must be a good thing. A little brother or sister does sound cool; Gladio’s parents won’t let him get a puppy, but he wonders if that’s because they wanted to surprise him with a sibling instead. Maybe he can ask for a puppy again once they’re born; he doesn’t think getting a puppy takes nearly as long as a brother or sister, so his parents will probably think it’s a good idea. Gladio hopes so, vowing to remember to ask about it once his mother has finished protecting the baby.

He forgets all about the puppy once Iris is born. His father wakes him in the middle of the night some months later to explain that he’s going to stay with Jared, the Amicitia family butler for a little while, and Gladio remembers nodding and rolling back asleep again without asking any questions. His parents are gone for a few days but Gladio doesn’t mind - his mother is part of the Crownsguard and sometimes has to leave for days or weeks, but she always comes back. His father is in the Council and Shield to the King, and that means he leaves for work early and comes back late, so there are days when Gladio doesn’t see him either. Jared is older than his parents (he’s got grey hair just like the King) but he works in the house so Gladio sees him a lot. He explains to Gladio that his parents’ hurried disappearance is because his brother or sister is being born, to which Gladio furrows his eyebrows at his dinner, wondering if that’s really true.

His parents leave and come back all of the time, but they’ve never had a baby with them before.

They do this time - if the teeny blanket-swaddled blob of pink can be called a baby. His mother is in a wheelchair and she has her own blanket draped over her knees, but she smiles as she beckons Gladio over, her face blotched red and white like the baby cocooned in her arms. Gladio’s father looks tired too, dishevelled and panda-eyed but standing proud behind his wife’s chair. Gladio clings onto his leg for a few seconds, a happy, wary welcome back, why’s mum hurt, what’s that blob kind of hug, and both of his parents laugh dog-tiredly.

“Gladio, this is your little sister, Iris,” his mother introduces, motioning for him to approach. “Would you like to hold her? She’s not very heavy, but you have to be careful.”

“She still needs protecting?” Gladio asks, edging closer. He’s not sure how the shapeless roll of blankets in his mother’s arms can be a little sister, but he holds his hands out as his father instructs and accepts the wrinkly, cotton-wrapped mass into his arms.

It has a nose, and a mouth, and two tiny pink hands that clench and bend and -

“It moved!” Gladio cries, staring in flabbergast as the baby peeks open a pair of white eyes and wriggles within the blankets. “It’s moving - it’s alive! It’s - it’s -!”

“Iris,” his father amends, crouched beside him. “And she’s your sister.”

“Iris,” Gladio agrees, watching the baby peer around at the world. She’s small and wrinkly and he loves her already, and he wonders what she’s thinking as she blinks up at him. “Can she talk? Does she know who I am? Iris, I’m Gladio - Gladiolus. I’m eight. I’m your big brother. Are you always gonna be this small?”

The baby - Iris - only yawns before snuggling back down to sleep again. His parents - their parents - translate that as a she’ll be bigger before you know it Gladio, but he can’t imagine her ever getting bigger than this. It’ll be weird if she’s ever as tall as him, and then he won’t be the big brother anymore, will he?

She’ll have to stay small, he decides. That way, he can protect her forever.

Obviously Ignis is physically fit but they weren't expecting the six pack. Or those biceps. Or those thighs. Just one or more of the bros being amazed when they finally get a look at what's under the suit

+bonus if someone drops what they're holding
+another bonus if someone walks into something

No one dies ending AU.
For a long time it was very common for political alliances to be formalized by marriage to a relative of the reigning monarch. Cousins, younger siblings, etc. were married off to foreign royals/nobility and used as essentially hostages for peace.

Niflheim has been defeated and a lot of old nations are regaining autonomy. There are a lot of new alliances that need to be formed These new/old countries just got out from under the boot heel of the Nifs, they're skittish and want assurances that Lucis won't become the new Nilfheim.

Noctis is an only child, the closest thing he has to kinsman are the 'bros, but fuck political pressures, like hell he's marrying Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio off to go live in some foreign country!

+ 5 times Noctis had to sabotage a 'bros political marriage.
+++ If the 'bros have been secretly OT4 for a while.

This was great. I can just picture little Gladio holding Iris like that. Thank you so much for this.

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Prompt Post

Re: FILL 4/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Re: Prompto+Kingsglaives, jealous Noctis

Prompto - Being an Astral

FILL 5/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Re: Gladiolus/Prompto

Re: FILL 4/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Re: Ardyn/Ravus/Ultros, tentacles, overstimulation

Re: Ardyn/Gentiana, The Same Face

Re: FILL 5/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Re: Noct/Writer's Choice - Give that boy a BATH

FILL 6/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Noctis/Gladio, Post-chapter 9 Malboro (angry) sex pollen

Re: FILL 6/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Re: FILL 6/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

Drautos/Nyx, Dependency

Re: Iris + Gladio - Sibling fluff

FILL: Gladio/Prompto, Gladio/Any: Gladio as hidden Omega (1/?)

Re: Drautos/Nyx, Dependency

Re: Drautos/Nyx, Dependency

Re: FILL: Re: ardyn/cor, a/b/o + watersports

Re: FILL 6/? Re: Prompto is the kidnapped younger brother of Luna and Ravus AU (Promptis)

FILL: Iris + Gladio - Sibling fluff (1/1)

Ignis/any of the bros

Noctis + Chocobros Avoiding Political Marriages

Op