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.
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Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.

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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A nobleman is comstantly proposing to Ignis, and Ignis just fucking runs for it because there are only so many ways you can say no. He runs until he sees Gladio on his bike, yells at him to drive

+First time meeting. Gladio comes out of the store to see some poor sap running for his life and hop on the bike like wtf

++Ignis is terrified of motorbikes and he's holding onto Gladio for dear life

+++Gladio finds it hilarious but decides to deck the nobleman after witnessing him send guards after Ignis to make him accept his marriage proposal

If no one does this I fucking will.

Op here- if you do you'll be my hero. I've been sick for the past 2 weeks please save me from boredom

THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE

THIS IS MY JAM Y'ALL
(I'm not the first commenter, just another anon who really wanted to fill the prompt.)

---

The first time Lord Phelan of Tenebrae asks for Ignis’ hand in marriage, Ignis is sixteen. He says no with an apology and a sympathetic look in his green eyes, hoping that it’s enough to let him down easy without causing an incident between Lucis and the Tenebraen ambassador.

The second time Lord Phelan proposes, Ignis is seventeen. He tells him that he isn’t of age, bows politely, and begs his leave to see to the prince. Lord Phelan doesn’t give it to him, and Ignis is forced to listen to him prattle on for another fifteen minutes.

The third time, two weeks later, Ignis shakes his head and turns away without even a proper bow.

The fourth time, Ignis is starting to become nervous. He has to stop himself from checking around the corners of every hall, of scoping out each room he enters, as though there’s anything he can do to stop Lord Phelan from engaging him if he wants to. Ignis’ job is tied up in the tangles of diplomacy, and snubbing a foreign official could have negative ramifications on his performance review. And Lord Phelan knows it, damn him.

The fifth time, when the older man grabs Ignis’ chin in a firm grip and smiles like a fox in the dim lamplight outside of the Citadel, Ignis runs.

Gladiolus Amicitia has just packed a bag of cleaning gear for his weapons in the carrying bag of his motorcycle, and is preparing to head off to home when he hears footsteps.

Frantic ones. He turns, and sees a young man running towards him out of the darkness of one of Insomnia’s side streets. He’s a light brunette, tall and wiry, and he’s holding onto the frame of his glasses as though afraid they may fall off. His face is red with exertion, and when he sees Gladio, his eyes flash dangerously.

“Thank the Six,” the man says, in a smooth, accented voice. He climbs onto the back of Gladio’s bike without so much as a May I? and hesitates all of one second before grabbing him round the middle.

“Hey, what the hell?” Gladio says, but from this close, he can see the adrenaline reducing the young man’s pupils to pinpricks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that doesn’t all look like the effort of running.

“Please,” the man says. “Just a few blocks. Please.”

Gladio peers into the dark, and sees the outline of several figures running towards them. “Shit,” he says. “Alright. I just hope you ain’t a serial killer, that’s all.”

The engine turns over, and the two of them take off, roaring into the narrow streets of the middle city.

The man at Gladio’s back has him in a vice-like grip even when they reach a steady speed, and Gladio can feel his arms shaking. Quickly, he lifts his left hand to pull the guy closer, and feels the gasp of breath against his leather jacket as the man leans his head against Gladio’s shoulder. He smiles a little at this, even through the sheer bewildering amusement at being thrown into this kind of situation in the first place, and pulls to a stop about a mile away.

“Okay,” he says, “What the hell was that about?”

“I’m so sorry,” the other man says. He’s still shaking, and when he lifts a hand to brush his sweat-damp hair from his eyes, his fingers miss the mark. Damn, Gladio thinks. Poor guy’s terrified. And you’d have to be, he realized, to be willing to jump onto a total stranger’s bike and let them take you wherever they care to go. He twists around and holds up a hand, an unspoken question in his eyes. The other man nods, and Gladio brushes his bangs aside for him.

“Didn’t even give me time to put on my helmet,” Gladio says. “Who’s got you running so bad, huh?”

The man lets out a trembling breath. “The Tenebraen ambassador.”

“Lord Whats-his-name? Percy?” Gladio laughs. The man’s as intimidating as a weak noodle.

“Phelan,” the man says. “You know him?” His eyes have gone suddenly dark, and Gladio shakes his head.

“I’m Crownsguard,” he says. “My dad’s on the council, so I know a little. Amicitia. I’m Gladiolus. Gladio.”

“Ignis Scientia,” the man says. “I’m… advisor to the prince. You’re his shield, correct?”

“That’s where I’ve seen you before,” Gladio says, with a smile. “Can’t believe we haven’t been introduced yet.”

“Yes, well.” Ignis closes his eyes and lifts his glasses further up his nose. “I won’t be joining the Crownsguard until I’m eighteen. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted…”

Gladio shrugs. “So what’s Lord Phelan’s deal? Why’s he after you? He have his sights on the prince for something?”

“What? No. No, he.” Ignis coughs. “He has his sights on me. For… for marriage.”

Gladio gives Ignis a long, steady look. “And he thinks chasing you down’s the right way to do it?”

Ignis laughs bitterly. “Oh, no,” he says. “At first it was just trapping me in a corner to talk about how wealthy he is, how lucky I’d be to have him. Or he’d tell me I’m too young and charming to be wasted on playing nursemaid, which I… to think anyone would assume that’s how I view my friendship with the prince—I mean, my duties…”

“Yeah, I think I get you,” Gladio says. Sure, he barely knows the guy, but the way he’s shaking, the quaver in his voice, the resignation in his eyes like this is something he should expect… Gladio feels a seed of anger take root in his gut, hot and sharp as pain.

“You know,” he says, in a slow, thoughtful voice. “It didn’t look like just one guy chasing you.”

“His guards,” Ignis hisses. “He’s probably making up some excuse to the King now, to make it look like I’m at fault. But I just… if he won’t respect me now, why on earth would I think he’d respect me as his husband? Or lover? No. I can’t… the only thing I’m truly afraid of is that he’ll compromise my duties with Noctis, somehow.”

“Yeah, well, I can get mad for your sake, then,” Gladio says, startling a confused blink from the other man. “This shit can’t stand. How are you feeling? I can drop you off at my place, but just a fair warning, I’m going right back to the Citadel to sort this out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ignis tells him. He wraps his arms around Gladio’s middle again. “It was foolish to run in the first place.”

Gladio lifts his helmet from the side of his bike and fits it over Ignis, grinning at the younger man’s gasp of surprise. “Safety first, my sister always says.”

Ignis isn’t entirely sure this couldn’t have gone better. He has to stand before the King for what feels like hours, explaining an entire year’s worth of failed rejections while Lord Phelan stands off to the side, blood running in a river from his nose. Gladio spends the whole time running his hands over his knuckles, grinning like the cat who stole the cream. The King’s brows knit and his gaze darkens with every stumbling explanation Ignis offers, and when he finally trails to a halt, King Regis does something entirely unexpected.

He descends the steps and holds the side of Ignis’ face as he would his son, and looks into his eyes with such regret that Ignis feels a tight lump form in his throat.

“I apologize for what you had to suffer through in silence,” he says, in a low, quiet voice. “My only comfort is that Gladiolus could prevent it from escalating… in his own way. Should this occur again, son, tell me or Clarus. As your duty lies with my son, my duty lies in ensuring your safety.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ignis stammers. “Th-thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Good man,” King Regis says, and turns a suddenly stormy gaze to the flabbergasted ambassador to Tenebrae.

Later, as Ignis and Gladio sit together in the booth of a diner south of the Citadel, Ignis chides the other man thoroughly for putting his nose—and his fist—in where he doesn’t belong.

“You’re the one who jumped on my bike,” Gladio says, grinning good-naturedly. He scoops up a few fries from Ignis’ plate, and Ignis is surprised to find that he doesn’t object. Something strange has happened in the past few hours. It’s as though Gladio walked right past all the little milestones and rules that consist of a well-crafted friendship, and come out the other side behaving as though he and Ignis had known each other all their lives. And when Ignis thinks about it, he feels much the same.

“We could have ended it peacefully, at least,” Ignis insists, stealing one of Gladio’s fries in return. The other man smiles wide, and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Sure,” he says. “But you gotta admit, Iggy. Nothing says No, thank you like a punch to the face.”

AUTHORANON YOU ARE THE BEST THANK YOU

Yay! I'm glad you like it!!

Op here! Thank you ao much for filling this, I love it! Gladio and Ignis were so well done and I like how you added Regis. It was a nice touch, showing how the king is to care for his subjects.

Really nice job, thank you again!

Aaaaaaa Thank you! <3

UGH UGH UGH THIS WAS PERFECT

YOU'RE PERFECT

THANKS AUTHORNON

Gladio is awesome, but my favorite part is where Regis calls Ignis "son," and apologizes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Prompt Post

Gladio/Ignis + Ignis Running From Marriage Proposal

Re: Gladio/Ignis + Ignis Running From Marriage Proposal

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FILL 1/1 Re: Gladio/Ignis + Ignis Running From Marriage Proposal

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