ffxv_kinkmeme | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

Prompto couldn't sleep.

Ardyn's whispers still resonated within him, the feel of his mocking breath against the shell of his ear. If the chancellor was telling the truth, Insomnia would fall tonight while the prince and his retainers dreamt peacefully in plush beds, nestled on the tranquil shores of Gauldin Quay.

The soldier remained out on the deck long after Noctis had retired, fidgeting, worrying. He moved from the rail to the chair, then stood up once more to pace the length of polished wood, the gentle lapping of waves and miles of serene ocean doing nothing to soothe him. He wished he'd brought his pistols out, perhaps the familiar motion of cleaning his weapons might lull him into temporary calm, but instead his fingers fidgeted at his sides, useless just like the rest of him.

He turned to the windows, knowing the other three slept soundly inside. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he grew. His guts coiled and twisted almost painfully as if his body meant to reject them, Lightheadedness hit him like a wall and caused him to stumble back in the direction of the railing. White knuckled, Prompto bent at the waist, clutching the front of his shirt with a pitiful groan, afraid to open his mouth too wide for fear of what might spill out.

"Why are you worried?" The voice alone applied pressure to the base of his skull. The ache had started out dull, but it was spreading slowly, all-consuming and vying for Prompto's attention, dragging his thoughts away from any semblance of compassion or sympathy, choking him both literally and figuratively, bending his mind and refocusing it onto the task at hand.

"Ngnnh..." The solider moaned, unable to help it as he started to retch. He gripped the rail and heaved, spoiling moonlit waters with his most terrible secrets, coughing up something vile and full of sin. It burned coming up, but Prompto couldn't help it anymore than he could stop shaking, frantically assuring between bouts of vomiting that he could do this, that he deserved to be alive and he would prove it.

The Six must have shown pity, for by some mercy the ordeal didn't last very long. Eventually Prompto was able to steady his breathing and drag himself upright, argue with himself and convince whatever lay dormant in his bloodstream that he hadn't forgotten who he was-- what he was. How could he forget? His father would never allow it, the chancellor even found amusement in calling him by a given name.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and it came away pitch black and oily. The soldier felt calmer now, however, his panic subsiding into an unnatural silence. In the end, he actually felt good. Sometimes a reminder had to hurt in order to be effective.

That morning, Noctis watched as Prompto outfitted himself with his holster. He stood near the bright windows, pale skin and fair hair almost translucent, illuminated by the daylight. Practiced fingers handled the two deadly weapons, sliding each of them into place with ease. He still wore his gloves, infuriatingly masking his tattoo. The prince was so entranced that when Gladio burst into the room, nearly blowing the door off its hinges, he jumped nearly a foot off of the bed he'd been sitting on, heart hammering staccato rhythm in his chest.

"You KNEW!" The Shield roared. All of a sudden Prompto's feet no longer touched the ground and Gladio's massive forearm crushed the soldier's throat between itself and the window, Noctis swore he could hear the glass threaten to buckle under the force-- unless the pathetic rattling was really Prompto's windpipe.

"What's going on?" Noctis voice was gruff, laden with sleep yet still managing to make demands. However, before Gladio could answer, Ignis calmly stepped inside the room and handed the prince the morning's tribune.

"It's in all the papers," he offered solemnly as Noctis' steely eyes scanned the headlines with growing disbelief.

INSOMNIA FALLS

The words were there in stark black ink, mocking him with their clarity. Their force knocked him from his feet, the backs of his knees hitting the mattress until he was forced to sit.

"Noct, just say the word and I'll wring this guy's traitorous little neck."

Gladio's rumbling had Noct's attention. He'd nearly forgotten about Prompto, still pinned and helpless, gasping as he was crushed beneath Gladio's strength. Anger was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt, something worse than despair had ran cold fingers down his spine. In that moment, seeing the light leave Prompto's eyes might have been gratifying, but all Noctis could really think of was the sickly expression on Prompto's face after Ardyn had whispered to him.

"He knew, but he had nothing to do with it," Noctis concluded with a firm nod, waiting for Gladio to obey his order and let Prompto go. He didn't even watch as the soldier collapsed to a heap on the floor, gasping and boneless. No, Noctis couldn't watch, because at that moment he was overcome by grief for his people, for his country, and for his father.

"Noctis, I know you're upset, but now is the time to focus. You need to think clearly."

Ignis handed the prince a cup of cool water and bid him to drink, a comforting hand on his shoulder. The adviser had suggested they plan their next move carefully and outside of Prompto's earshot. It wasn't ideal, but now the three of them stood in their room, with Gladio's hulking frame pressed firmly against the bathroom door, where Prompto was locked inside, gathering himself and ordered to wait.

"Clearly, the empire harboured these intentions all along," Ignis continued, "the presence of an imperial envoy was merely a ruse to lull us into a false sense of security."

From his side of the room, Gladio scoffed. "Sure as hell worked, hooking us up with that timid little thing."

"Ah, yes. Prompto. There is something that doesn't quite add up. When he first introduced himself, I could have sworn his surname was familiar to me. Only now has it dawned on me that our envoy is related to Versatael Bestithia, once a famed medical doctor and now involved in the development of Magitek Troopers. Why he would send his son to us, I can't deduce, but it does explain the chancellor's familiarity with him, though hardly what he was doing here in the first place."

Noctis brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply, eyes fixated over the rim of the glass as if he could see through Gladio and into the other room.

"I don't like the chancellor," he surmised, and received silent agreement from both sides of the room.

"One thing though, Iggy," Gladio began. "Why go through all the trouble of sending Noctis away? Keeping him out of the city kept him safe, why was the wedding meant to take place somewhere else?"

"Ah. The wedding's location were terms set by His Majesty. King Regis must have..." Ignis trailed off once he realized what he might have been suggesting. His features softened as he cleared his throat, glancing to the prince.

"He must have known he was going to die," Noctis finished dryly, knuckles white around the glass he was holding. "Forfeiting all those lives just to save mine, huh?"

"Noct, don't. We don't know the whole story yet."

An uncomfortable silence blanketed in the room while the prince's retainers waited for him to collect himself.

"But it didn't even matter," Noctis said weakly, gesturing helplessly to where Prompto was locked up. "They probably sent Prompto along to off me in my sleep. Now that they have the crystal, now that Luna and dad are... gone, what do they have to fear?"

A weary sigh escaped Ignis, a rare sound from the usually composed advisor. From his back pocket he produced the papers Prompto had received earlier from Ardyn and ran a gloved finger over the sharp corners.

"That doesn't explain why the chancellor so graciously bestowed paperwork granting three Lucian citizens past the blockades in Duscae... On the condition that we're accompanied by none other than Prompto Bestithia."

Quiet overcame them once more, a silent decision already made. Without further hesitation, Gladio moved away from the wall and unlocked the door, making sure when he opened it, that he blocked the Imperial's view of Noctis.

The soldier's expression was imploring, blue eyes pleading with Gladio for the time of day, even though he knew the Shield had also lost a father today.

"I have a job to do. Please," his voice was raspy, scratching against the walls of his bruised throat. "...The chancellor. H-He told me- My orders are to bring Prince Noctis to Lady Lunafreya, no matter the cost."

Phone calls were made and the course was eventually plotted. Much to Gladio's relief, most of the Crownsguard had made it out-- along with his younger sister Iris. They were taking refuge in Lestallum, a few days' drive from here, but Cor Leonis-- captain of the guard, had requested that the party make a stop near Hammerhead first before meeting with Iris. Apparently he was to fulfill one of the King's final requests.

The air was tense, even as the group parked the Regalia and continued on foot, boots crunching the dirt beneath them. Ignis and Gladio made a point of putting their bodies between Prompto and Noctis while they walked, the former's attention solely devoted to keeping an eye on the prince, while Gladio kept a wary pace with their Imperial tag-along.

Cor was waiting for them by the mouth of a large structure, which Ignis in his infinite wisdom explained was actually a royal tomb erected to house one of Lucis' former kings or queens.

"Your father wanted you to be protected, so that someday you could have the strength to protect others," Cor explained after they'd stepped inside. "From today forward, you will carry the line of Lucis along with you. You will accept the blessing of your ancestors."

What Prompto had seen that day, he wouldn't forget. Noctis had been quiet and seething for Cor's entire speech, still unwilling to believe that he was worth the sacrifice his father had made. And yet all of that seemed to melt away when Noctis requested the first blessing of many. The air around them was alight, teeming with magic as the weapon recognized Noctis, his own royal blood pulsing through his veins with an eagerness to seal the pact.

The prince's eyes shone red with a crystalline glow, he looked regal and powerful and perhaps the kings of old spoke to him then, for after the ritual was over and the humming in the air had ceased, Noctis seemed to have found acceptance and resolve.

Prompto had never seen anything like it, and he told Noctis so that night at camp. Cor had left them to join Monica on business he was reluctant to discuss in Prompto's presence and the party had begun their journey to Lestallum.

Once night had fallen, they had made the decision to set up camp to avoid any daemons. Everyone but Prompto had retired for the night, safe inside the tent. The blond had thought himself alone, warmed by the dying fire and soothed by silent moonlight, only until a rustling from the tent caught his attention.

"Noctis," he greeted, unable to hide his surprise. "You should go back to--"

The prince cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand and took a seat beside him. "Don't worry about them, Prompto. They believe you, I... believe you. They're just... trying to protect me."

"Right." Prompto looked down, chin nearly touching his chest. He couldn't handle looking at Noctis right now, and he didn't know if it was because of what had happened, because of the way the firelight illuminated his features, or if he was still thinking about how proud... how regal Noctis had looked back at the tomb. Maybe it was a combination of all three?

"I'm... so sorry about your dad, Noctis."

Silence.

"My dad, he... Uhm. He never paid attention to politics, he was only concerned about his research. We weren't, a-aren't close. He had me appointed to you because--"

Prompto stifled a cough, a hacking sound that came from deep within his chest and caused Noctis to sit up slightly, soft features now sharp with concern.

"He... ugh..." Prompto preemptively wiped his mouth and then sat back once he was confident the minor fit had passed. "Y-you know what, never mind. Let's--"

The boy shifted so that he could pull out his camera, scooting over with his chair so that he could get closer to Noctis.

"I took some photos today. Wanna see?"

He hoped that the meager offering of distraction would appease the prince. He felt stripped bare just then, holding the device out for Noctis to take. It meant everything to Prompto when slender fingers closed around the camera, so much that he fumbled to show the other boy what buttons to press.

(con't in next comment)

From: (Anonymous)

This was almost like having a friend. Like camping in the woods with a real, actual friend, the harsh reality of everything softening until it became nothing but the background. They scrolled through the photos in relative silence, Noctis occasionally making an approving sound. Even once (or twice?) a smile threatened to form on his lips. The minutes ticked by and the prince watched the camera while the soldier watched the prince.

"My dad and I used to be close," Noctis said suddenly. "But he was getting old fast and the war was only making it worse." It was strange for Noctis to talk about his father in the past tense, an unfamiliar taste on his tongue. "He just didn't have the time anymore, so... y-you know."

Prompto looked up from the screen once he heard the faltering in Noctis' speech. In the harsh electric glow he saw the beginnings of tears welling up in the corners of those sharp eyes.

"Oh, Noct. I..."

The nickname was an afterthought as Prompto slid from his seat, gently easing the camera from the prince's grip and putting it away. With hardly any measure of grace his knees hit the dirt and Prompto grasped at Noctis' hands, holding and squeezing gently. He didn't know much about comfort, but he had one precious fleeting memory of someone soft and kind. Someone who was there before the tests began, the cold metal slab against his bare skin, the endless networks of tubes and wires, something sick and black pumped into his eternally dying body. Prompto held onto that memory and he gave it to Noctis without much thought. At the time, he didn't know any better. He hummed a quiet song and turned his hand over in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of his wrist to soothe flesh that had just been marred, assuring him that he would live through this, that he would be strong.

But when Prompto pulled away he'd realized what he'd done. Realized that Noctis' wrist bore no mark, that he wasn't anything close to whatever sub-human...thing Prompto actually was-- that this had been a mistake.

"I- I'm so sorry, Noctis. I--"

The prince didn't speak, just eased his hands from Prompto's grip and reached out, fingers tracing along the purples and yellows that still hadn't faded from the boy's throat, blossoming like oil floating along the sea. The prince's eyes were still misty and wet, distorting the campfire's reflection on their surface.

"You what?" He asked, and there was that royal undertone, a selfish part of Noctis stirring, a child of royalty who couldn't stand the thought of something so far out of his reach. Prompto's air of mystery, his questionable presence here and damned tattoo. Noctis wanted it for himself, wanted to take something away from the Empire that had taken everything from him.

He felt the boy tense, the tendons in his neck coiled and relaxed, working nervously beneath Noctis' feather-touches. If he wanted, he could finish what Gladio had started back at the Quay and Prompto probably wouldn't have cared. For Noctis, there was a thrill beneath his hesitation, the sight of Prompto knelt there so innocently, so disheveled and open, making the prince feel much too warm.

Prompto parted his lips to try and reply, but couldn't find the words.

"S'what I thought," Noctis rumbled, thumb swiping across the soldier's bottom lip.

Without a second thought he leaned down, bringing Prompto up to meet him.

The solider rose up on his knees, hands clinging to the soft fabric of Noctis' sleeping shirt. Overcome by the prince's warm lips against his, the feel of defined muscle beneath his shirt. When Noct's tongue pushed past his parted lips he let him in, his teeth catching the prince's bottom lip while Noctis drank of him,

Prompto kissed messy and desperate, starved for unfamiliar affection and craving a taste he hadn't knew existed until just this moment. His hands moved to Noctis' face, touching the wetness of tear-tracks and then finding purchase in his hair, hardly letting go even when the two of them came up for air. The whimper tumbling from his lips as they parted sounding foreign to him-- a soldier didn't make that kind of sound.

This time, it was Noctis who was apologizing, though the words didn't sound all that sincere or sorry at all. His cheeks were rosy in the firelight and his slender fingers carded gently through Prompto's soft hair, reluctant to stop once he realized how responsive the boy was to the touch, his eyelids drooping and mouth still slightly open. His free hand wiped away what was left of his tears, and the other cupped Prompto's cheek, thumb going back to trace the curve of his wet bottom lip, swollen and pink from kissing.

"Sorry," he repeated, but he was smiling on account of Prompto's dreamy expression, smug to have been the who'd caused it.

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Hope you're enjoying it, anon. I'm sorry for the true slow burn!!!