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

Yeah, he definitely understands that well enough. Add that to the fact that it's a kid and it wasn't his choice and he is NOT happy right now.

Hang in there, nonny. Almost through the hard part. :<b

Ahh, this is such a sweet comment! Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying this!

And yes, nasty surprise is definitely incoming.

Oh my God no, poor baby! I want to wrap him in a blanket and shield him from the world. That poor cinnamon sunshine baby ;_;
I'm a crying mess right now authornon, I hope you're proud of yourself! (And you can be proud, you're an excellent writer <3)

Well strike me down and call me alice, because I am gonna just lie here in an ocean of my own tears, now.

(This is so good!)

*smiling placidly while room is on fire* This is fine. :-)

no uh uh im in denial no no noooooo no ohhh nooooo no no no no

nonononono don't cry everything is fine you're safe you're loved you're happy they're gonna hug and then everything is gonna be fine yes please ç_ç

"Are you still deciding?"

*pained shrieking* ;_;

And now the truth comes out...

I just wanna do what Gladio's doing and squeeze the living daylights out of poor Baby Prom but :,( You are a great author.

*washes away in an ocean of reader anon's own tears*

You're breaking my heart. My poor babies!

(still love this fill though)

Ignis sucks a sharp breath in. Noct's face goes shuttered and strange, like it does when he has to handle something he doesn't like. And Gladio – Gladio's never wanted to eviscerate a complete stranger more than he does in this very moment.

"That," he grinds out, "is absolute bullshit."

Prompto blinks up at him, lashes still wet with tears, face red and blotchy. He ducks his head and reaches, carefully, to pull back the glove covering his wrist. The barcode is waiting there underneath, like a scorpion under a rock.

"It's not," he says. "It's true." The kid takes a shuddering breath in. Then he says, in a blank, disaffected tone, like he's said it a thousand times before: "MT unit H-01987, reporting for duty. Status: functional. Ready for assignment."

There's a long beat while Gladio tries to take that in. The number's what stymies him first; it's fucking sick, giving a little kid some code instead of a name. Then the rest catches up. The word "MT" jangles around in his head like a cog that's come loose.

Before Gladio can say anything, or even really chase that thought all the way to the finish line, Noct beats him to it – sets his jaw, and seizes Prompto's wrist. He slides off the glove and takes the much smaller hand in his own, pressing his thumbs to the rectangle of ink that mars the skin.

For an instant, there's so much of Noct's father in his face, earnest and somber.

"Listen to me," Noct says, voice not quite even. "I don't care about some serial number. You're Prompto."

Prompto says, "Responding to unauthorized designations will result in further demerits." The words are quiet – flat, with no emphasis, like he's reading from a textbook.

Ignis presses his lips together into a thin, white line. "Then it's for the best that no one here is keeping track of demerits in the first place, isn't it?"

Prompto looks at Ignis with those huge puppy-dog eyes of his. He looks at Noct, and then at his own hand, encased in Noct's fingers. He says, "But," and then his mouth works, like it can't quite find what he wants to say. "But I."

"We're not here to keep you in line," says Noct. "We're here to keep you safe."

"Look, kiddo," says Gladio. "Wherever you were before, you're here now. And if anyone tries to lay a hand on you, we're gonna kick their ass."

Prompto looks up at him, hopeful and hurting all at the same time.

"You believe that?" says Gladio.

And the kid just stares for a minute. His eyes flicker over to Ignis again, then to Noct, then back up to Gladio.

At last, hesitantly, he gives a tiny nod. And thank the Six, there's that smile again – crooked and kind of wondering, so bright it hurts to look at.

Glad you're still enjoying. Sorry for the tears! ^^

Aah, thank you! And yes, baby Prompto needs more hugs. :(

Yeeeeep. :D

Yes, he needs all of the nice things now. Poor baby chocobo. :(

H-haha, sorry. ^^

I laughed out loud at this, not gonna lie. XD

What a great mental image. Thank you for that, nonny. ^^

(And thank you for the kind comment!)

Thank you so much! Tears are the best compliment. :D

===

Prompto's pretty worn out after the meltdown over his tattoo, and Noct can't really blame him. He feels like he's about one more terrible revelation away from a meltdown, himself.

Every time he thinks about some scientist in a lab coat or some military drill instructor hurting Prompto bad enough to make him act the way he's been acting, he feels like he's going to puke.

He's just – he's Prompto. He's bright smiles and casual tactile affection. He's nights up late lying on the couch, eating popcorn and watching bad movies. He's stupid dares and dumb freshmen-year crushes and the best-intentioned, worst-executed birthday present Noct has ever had the good fortune to receive.

His brain can't quite wrap itself around the idea that anyone would want to hurt Prompto.

But apparently, someone did, and that someone is the whole godsdamned Niflheim military. If Noct hadn't been set on tearing the Empire down before, he definitely is now. The hell of it is, a whole wall of MTs are going to stand in between him and that goal – and now Noct knows. Under that armor, each and every one of them probably started out the same way Prompto did. The only difference is, he got away.

Noct shuts that train of thought down so fast it almost goes off the rails. He takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself.

It's hard, with Prompto half-asleep in Gladio's arms, eyes still swollen from crying.

Thank the gods for Ignis. Even while Noct's thoughts are floundering, trying to make sense of the world, Specs is making a plan. He says: "Let's divide and conquer, shall we? We need lunch, and after that I think we'd be well-advised to put Prompto down for a bit of a nap."

And Noct says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good," probably a bit too quickly.

Ignis goes to get the sandwiches, and Noct trails Gladio over to the caravan – fishes thirty gil out of his pocket for the coin slot, and slides them in one after the next, until the door unlocks.

"Okay, kiddo," says Gladio, when they're inside. "Let's get you ready to bunk down."

But before he can set the kid on the narrow caravan bed, Noct finds himself saying, "Shouldn't we get him cleaned up first?"

He wouldn't ask. He wouldn't; plainly the kid's exhausted.

Only, Prompto can't stand tracking dirt into hotel beds. Even dead tired, he'll wait around for his turn in the bathroom before cannonballing into the blankets when he's done. He told Noct once that they camp so much, these days, it feels like a waste of clean sheets, getting road dust all over them.

Maybe Gladio's remembering the same thing, because his eyebrows climb, thoughtful. He sets Prompto down on his feet, instead. "Be my guest."

Prompto stares up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Gladio leans against the wall, plainly waiting.

So Noct opens up the door to the caravan bathroom. He shows Prompto the faucet, and he has to explain that no, it's not always cold, and yes, it's okay for him to touch it. He has to show him the soap, and the shampoo, and the conditioner, and walk the kid through how to use them all.

By the time he's done and Prompto's disappeared into the shower with the rush of water, Noct feels like he wants to collapse on the bed and sleep for a hundred years.

He gets it ready for Prompto, instead. Then he pulls out another pair of kid-sized boxers, this one with a cactuar print, and Prompto's red shirt. It'll be huge on him, but it ought to work as a nightshirt.

The shower turns off a few minutes later, and he knocks on the door and calls: "Clean clothes incoming. Get dressed, kay?" Then he cracks the door open and sticks them through.

Prompto emerges in the new clothes, still absolutely soaking wet. Like, hair still dripping, clothes now also soaked, probably going to be freezing in about five minutes wet.

Noct just looks at him for a beat, nonplussed. He can feel the weight of Gladio's stare on them both – wonders if his Shield feels the same sick sense of despair at the realization that a kid this old doesn't know how basic creature comforts work.

Noct closes his eyes. He takes a slow breath in. Then he steers Prompto back into the bathroom and says, "Okay, Prom, this here's a towel," and walks him through that, too.

Prompto's outfit from yesterday is still gross and bloody from their trip through the cave, but he's got a pair of clean adult-sized boxers at the bottom of his pack. So Noct fishes those out, and his own white t-shirt, and circles back around to the bathroom.

"Take two," he says, and hands them over.

When Prompto comes out again, he's practically swimming in them.

But he's clean, and he's dry, and Noct counts that as a win. Gladio lifts the kid up onto the caravan bed and tucks the blanket around his shoulders, and Noct sits down next to him, and that's about when the door creaks open to let Ignis in.

"Lunch is served," he announces.

The sandwiches are good – crisp lettuce and thin-cut dualhorn steak on rye. They're big, too; Ignis gives Prompto half, and wraps the rest up for later. The kid eats it like it's been a thousand years since the last time he had a meal, instead of just three hours.

Prompto leans up against Noct's side the whole time he's eating, a small warm presence tucked up there by his elbow.

After, Ignis brings out a damp cloth and wipes Prompto's face and hands, and he says, "Let's get you to bed, then."

Noct pats the pillow. "C'mon, Prom."

It's hard to miss the expression on Prompto's face when he lies down. It's cagey, and hopeful, and trying so damn hard not to give anything away. His hands tighten on the blanket as soon as Ignis pulls it up over his shoulders.

Something in Noct's chest flips over, in painful slow motion, at the sight of his too-pale face against the rumpled white of the caravan pillow.

The poor kid looks about a thousand miles away from sleep, and Noct has a brief, too-vivid recollection of a sleepless night when he was probably about this age, his father's hand stroking through his hair, cultured voice painting pictures of an adventure through the Duscaen countryside.

"Hey," he finds himself saying. "How bout a bedtime story?"

...That went better than I thought.

Although I think the boys might still have to finish processing. Poor Chocobros. Baby Prompto seems to be in a bit better place though

Too pure. I feel myself being blinded through my phone screen reading about Prompto's smile. It's TOO P U R E

There's a meme floating around out there of a guy at some kind of event, holding up a camera to take a picture of what he's witnessing while he weeps openly.

That's a good indicator of my emotions at this point.

Poor Bros. They have their work cut out for them.

But at least they're keeping it together (for now anyway). I imagine when Prompto falls asleep there will be at least one meltdown

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Prompt Post

Re: Fill: [12/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

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Re: Fill: [13/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

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Re: Fill: [14/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

Re: Fill: [13/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

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Re: Fill: [15/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

Re: Fill: [14/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

Re: Fill: [14/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

Re: Fill: [15/?] Prompto- Memories of the past

Re: Fill: [15/?] Prompto- Memories of the past