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)

Gladio remained surly for the entire trip back to Noctis' apartment. He'd made a point of sitting in the back, partly to keep an eye on the new kid and partly to keep Noctis within arm's reach. Ignis had to drive, so that meant Prompto was in the front, and neither he nor Gladio himself seemed entirely comfortable with it.

"I can't believe you're not objecting to this, Ignis. I can't be the only one who thinks what's happening right now is completely unacceptable."

"He did object, I just talked him out of it." Noctis stretched, utterly at ease.

"And it's fine, we'll all stay at my place until we're all sure no one's going to do anything stupid."

"There's a Niff in the car, we are well past that point."

"He's not a Niff anymore, we even have the documentation to prove it."

"Oh, great, so the Prince's new pet has papers. Are you going to enter him in a dog show, too?"

"Depends. Hey, Prompto, know any good tricks?"

"Please don't answer that."

"Sorry, sir, I'm the prince's Niff, not yours. Your Highness, I dunno any dog tricks that would be more impressive than a dog doing them, but if you want, I'm pretty sure I could catch a treat in my mouth. Does that count?"

Noctis very nobly kept a straight face, though that was more for the benefit of picking on Gladio a little bit. The whole affair was beyond ridiculous, so why even bother being upset? "Hey, Ignis, stop at the market? The one on the corner. If you guys are gonna stay over for a while we're gonna want more snacks anyway. What's your idea of a good treat, Prompto?"

"Probably beef jerky, right? Because it's a stick?"

The prince couldn't hold his laughter in anymore and collapsed bonelessly against the back seat, struggling to keep it as properly masculine laughing and not ridiculous giggles. Gladio, on the other hand, was having none of it.

"You'll do dog tricks if he wants?" He shot Noctis a dirty look. "So, what, you get off on treating people like animals now? This isn't a line for someone in your position to be crossing, Noct."

Ignis sighed, turning into the parking lot. "His position is the reason they sent Prompto, Gladio. Grousing about it isn't going to help anything."

"And that's why we're stopping to pick up dog treats?"

"We're stopping to pick up groceries. All else aside, you and I are going to be staying for at least a few nights, there won't be enough for all of us tomorrow if we don't restock tonight."

"Plus you're wrong. I'm not an animal, I'm furniture."

Noctis only snerked for about half a second before he realized that Ignis and Gladio had gone utterly silent, and Prompto hadn't been keeping a straight face at all. He was just completely serious.

"...Prompto. You know I'm just kidding, right? About the dog tricks thing? It's fine to goof off and everything, but I wouldn't actually..."

The ensuing silence in the Regalia felt heavy and awkward, but at least Gladio seemed convinced that Noctis wan't taking a jump down the slippery slope of abusive tyranny, and that helped.

Ignis stopped the car, turned it off, and regarded Prompto. "I'm sure you've been told that slavery isn't a common practice outside the Empire. We may need you to explain your position, if we're all to get along from here on out."

Prompto skirted a look in Gladio's direction, then twisted carefully in the seat to look at Noctis. "...I probably should have figured they wouldn't tell you anything, it's not like anybody really asked for this, right?" He tossed Noctis a half-hearted, apologetic smile. "So.. basically, you guys act like I'm a person--"

"You are a person."

"-- but I'm really not." Prompto pointed to his bar code again. "It's not a regular tattoo. This registers my year, make, and serial number, just like with a car. When Magitek Troopers are made, they're produced in laboratory conditions by a team of geneticists, but they don't all come out right. The ones who don't meet the requirements to begin training are usually too weak to survive, but if they do live, they have to be repurposed based on what criteria they do meet."

He took his paperwork out again, flipped through it, and then offered Ignis a page mostly covered in fine print. "The details are there, probably, but the short version is that I'm a bottom-barrel failure across pretty much all the important metrics. Size, strength, stamina.. if it has to do with boots-on-the-ground combat, your average poodle would probably score better than I did."

Ignis took the page and began reading it, the slight tension in his brow getting sharper the longer he went. "It's measured in percentiles," he explained, and then began reading aloud. "Final Assessment: subject unsuitable for deployment due to substandard physical and combat awareness test results, ranking 15th percentile or lower in all relevant categories. Recommend NRD and retest in six weeks.

Tester's note: I know it's not on the official report, but this one scored 96th in Empathy, Obedience, Patience, and Attachment. I need you to start him on a dense protein/vitamin diet ASAP and then repurpose him into Services before the second evaluation, because the brass will want to delete him like the rest. Doing that would be throwing out a fancy chocolate truffle just because you found it in a box of steaks."

"They have tests to decide whether you're too nice to be a soldier, and if you pass, they make you..."

"A slave." Prompto shook his head. "Not usually, but that's why I'm here. I'm not fit to be a soldier, but an MT production that can do any kind of personal service is pretty unusual, and engineering one with an actual aptitude for it is almost impossible. See, a bed slave isn't considered a person, it's more like... a pillow, I guess? A thing that belongs on your bed to make it more comfortable."

"... More comfortable. How, exactly?" Noctis ignored Gladio's dirty look when it came his way.

"Every way." Prompto shrugged, as if he were talking about the weather and not his own life. "Bed slaves are only given as gifts because the entire point of having one is reducing all the little sources of stress in your personal life, so that you'll be better at whatever work you do. It's the empire's way of saying "you're great, and we want you to always be at your best"."

"Great. Niflheim sent us a fancy rent boy as a diplomatic gift." Gladio scowled deeply and turned to face Noctis. "Does your father know about this?"

"Yes, he does, that's why we're here in the first place. Refusing a peace offering is a grave insult, and we don't need to give the Empire another excuse to declare war." Ignis folded the papers back up into their parcel. "There's no point in arguing about it."

"Your Highness?"

"Yeah, Prompto?"

"May I speak freely to your bodyguard for a few minutes, please?"

Gladio stared daggers at the nonchalant prince sitting next to him, then looked to Prompto. "If you have something to say, you can go ahead and say it, you don't need anybody's permission."

Prompto resolutely ignored it, focusing only on Noctis as if he couldn't even see anyone else in the car.

Noctis hitched one shoulder and nodded. "Sure, go for it."

"Thank you." Prompto twisted in his seat to face Gladio. His voice seemed to strain as he spoke, as if he were trying be as patient as possible. "Look, I'm not a whore. I'm not actually all that different from your function in his Highness's life, we just work in different departments. Why does that make you so mad?"

"Because you didn't choose this for yourself!"

"Neither did you! You're the prince's bodyguard because your father was the king's bodyguard. It may not have been in a laboratory, but you were bred for combat just like I was. The only difference is that I got my position because I'm talented, and you got yours because of nepotism!"

Gladio scowled, and shot a look Ignis' way, but he didn't respond. "Where does a bed slave learn to talk like that, I wonder?"

"In his studying room, because he's a prestige specialist with a formal education, and not a bargain-bin blow up doll." Prompto scowled right back at him.

Ignis sighed. "That's enough, both of you. Prompto, he's upset because he finds enslavement to be unethical and wrong. He wouldn't be angry if he didn't feel like you've been mistreated. Gladio, what's done is done, and right now, he's not being mistreated by anyone except you. So let's just all resolve to get along until we've worked out the details on how Prompto's service will be conducted, shall we?"

Noctis hopped out of the Regalia, still half smiling. "C'mon, we'll get popcorn. The bed slave thing I can take or leave, really, but just to save time, you have permanent permission to speak freely whenever you want. I don't get to hear sick burns like that every day."

From: (Anonymous)

Holy shit we're gonna need some remedies for those burns

From: (Anonymous)

HA! Good for Prompto, not letting Gladio or Ignis talk down to him.

From: (Anonymous)

What a great start! Can't wait to see where you take this.

From: (Anonymous)

(Short update; sorry, lots of work this week :(

--

"I can't be the only one to think that a literal slave doesn't give that kind of lip to anybody," Gladio muttered. "Am I the only person in the world who hasn't lost their damn mind?"

"You're just angry because he made a good point."

"Okay, yes, he made a good point, but that's not why I'm angry. I don't care what the paperwork says, I don't care what he says, but that kid is not a slave. I've met Niflheim slaves before, they're not allowed to talk that way to anybody, let alone free men." Gladio started pretending to help Ignis look for a good cut of meat, and lowered his voice. "The only Niflheim bed slave I've ever seen wasn't allowed to talk at all, and the only reason I saw her in the first place was because she was being shipped-- literally shipped, like cargo, in an actual wooden crate-- on a train I was doing guard duty for. Empathy? Patience? Attachment? Those are meaningless in the context of someone whose feelings don't matter, or someone who doesn't get a choice."

"The report does say those metrics are meant to identify those who are unsuited for combat," Ignis counters.

"Iggy, don't take this the wrong way, but if those are the metrics that make someone unsuited for combat, you'd be in the dustbin too. Those stats aren't for weeding out soldiers, those are stats for picking out agents." He takes a couple of steaks and puts them in the basket, less out of need and more to be able to just do something with his hands. "So yeah, he got under my skin, but that's my point: he knew exactly how to do it, and did, without hesitation. That's not the behavior of a slave."

"And the paperwork?"

"It's not consistent with what I was told. My briefing on it was that they were sending a bed slave who'd been commissioned for some noble, but it didn't say what he'd been commissioned for, or who, or why. It also didn't say that they just happened to get a near-perfect manufactured servant out of their gene-pool boot camp." Gladio takes a long breath, holds it for a few seconds, and releases it slowly, calming himself down. "I'm not trying to be a dick, but the red flags are going up all over the place. I know they don't pay me to think, but I'm not an idiot."

Ignis quietly weighs the issue in his thoughts for a moment, before finally venturing,"We can't prove it one way or the other, but that.. is a very valid point, Gladio. For now, we're in very close proximity, and given how bored Noctis is by talk of politics, we can avoid giving him any information we don't want Niflheim knowing. I'll discuss it with Noctis at the next opportunity; if Prompto really is a spy, we need to limit what he has access to."

"One thing, though. Noctis said he talked you out of objecting to this. How'd he do it?"

"He reminded me that we'd be there to protect him." Ignis smiles, a little wryly but reassuring all the same. "None of us are fools, Gladio. It'll be fine."

~

"Okay, so." Noctis flips through different flavors of popcorn as he talks. "Plain, ew. Cheese, not today. Kettle corn.. ugh, sticky.. What's your deal, really?"

"M-my deal?.. I don't think I know what you mean." Prompto stays still when Noctis talks. Two paces behind, just far enough to the side to be visible if he looked over his shoulder.

"I mean, what are you really about, with this bed slave thing. You talk about it like it's a job."

"It is a job."

"No, a job is something you do. A slave is something you are. Eugh, garlic and onion? On popcorn?" Noctis scrunches his face up at the plastic package and keeps walking. "Let me rephrase: what's the point of a bed slave?"

"Oh. Well... there's kind of a story, thought exercise thing, if you want to hear it? It'd probably explain it better than I could."

"Sure. Ignis is gonna be a while anyway, he takes forever with groceries."
Prompto nods, straightens up and clears his throat. "A troop of soldiers goes to war. Their captain orders them to march at dusk and leads them to a great victory, but loses ten percent of his men. The emperor makes him a colonel and gives him ten troops and a new suit of armor. He orders them to march at noon and he leads them to victory, but he still loses ten percent of his men. The emperor makes him a general, and gives him an army and a suit of ceremonial armor too.

"When it's time for him to lead the army to victory, he orders them to march at dawn. The night before the battle, he returns to his home, but he discovers that the winter has been harsh, and his wife died of illness while he was away. He resolves to mourn her after the battle is over, and goes to sleep. The next morning, he calls his army to march at dawn. Do you think he won the battle?"

Noctis slowly raises one eyebrow. "...His track record says he wins and loses ten percent of his men, but you probably wouldn't be asking if that's how it went."

Prompto smiles, just a little, and nods. "He dies on the battlefield. With his wife gone, his house was too cold to sleep and too lonely to bear. With no one to confide in, he was consumed with fear and guilt because ten percent of an army is many more lives than ten percent of a single troop. Desperate to be free of the war so that he could mourn his love, he ordered the march at dawn so that he could leave immediately. Being poorly-rested and rushing to return home, he lead his army into an ambush. The new ceremonial armor was useless if it wasn't worn and tied correctly, so the enemy had no trouble wounding him. Wracked with guilt, he turned to doubt, and his soldiers lost their confidence in him in turn."

The prince finally finds the extra butter popcorn and picks up a few bags. "Well.. that's a sad story, but what's it got to do with you?"

"Imagine another soldier," Prompto says. "The captain wins and loses ten percent of his men, and gets promoted to general. But instead of going home that last night before the final battle, he has a bed slave. His bed is warm, so he sleeps peacefully through the night. When he wakes well-rested the next morning, his bed slave has studied the meaning of his ceremonial armor and helps him into it. When he expresses his doubts about losing another ten percent of his men, his bed slave reassures him that his men follow because they believe in him enough to willingly give their lives. The general goes to the battle with a clear head, and wins the war.

"That is what a bed slave is. A fixture in your life that takes care of the little needs that others would say are petty or selfish, but can have far-reaching consequences when they aren't met. You're a prince and a destined king; there are going to be times when you'll need something that you can't have because there's no time, or because you have to set an example for others, or because people are depending on you to be strong." He lowers his voice a bit and looks to the floor. "As of today, my purpose is to create a space where "Noctis" is more important than "The Chosen King", even on the day when the sun doesn't come up."

From: (Anonymous)

This is really ineteresting! I can't wait for more :)

From: (Anonymous)

"Yyyeah, no, I don't see that happening." Noctis says this matter-of-factly as he wanders amidst a wonderland of gimmicky packaging. "Don't get awkward if I really do pick up beef jerky, Gladio likes it."

"...Um. I'm not supposed to question, but you said I could speak freely, so... you don't see what happening?"

"That 'creating a space' thing you were talking about just now, that's not going to happen. One, Ignis takes care of me whether I want him to or not, two, Gladio makes sure I don't need to do anything except be what people are counting on me to be, and three, it's destiny. Maybe nobody told you, but I don't get a choice about any of the "King of Light" stuff. That's sorta why they call it that, it's "Chosen King", not "King Who Chose"." Noctis takes a slow breath, because this is something he really doesn't like to think about more than strictly necessary. "And that's what destiny is: the high points of my life are gonna be the same no matter what I do, or don't do, because what I'm going to do and what I'm not going to do have already been taken into account and the result is already determined."

"I'm not really seeing how that changes what I can do for you. Sure, I can't change your destiny, but I can help you feel better about it."

"It doesn't matter how I feel about it."

"It matters to me."

Noctis turns to look at Prompto, this time with open suspicion on his face. "Why?"

"...Because you're the reason I exist, and that makes you the most important person in my universe? And I have no reason to prioritize the world over you?"

"Okay, new ground rule: I'm not ready for the philosophical implications behind the words "you're the reason I exist", so don't say stuff like that. Also, you've known me for about an hour and a half."

"And you're great!" Prompto beams. "I know, it's probably weird because this is an aspect of a foreign culture that yours has no context for and I'm kind of an outsider invading your space right now, and I get that, and I totally respect it, but so far, I really like your company. You're not stupid, you're not uptight, you're funny, and you're pro-snacks and pro-goofing off, so I'm not seeing any downsides to you right now. Most people don't even like their bed slaves to even be seen by the public, and you're here, letting me actually be seen with you. In broad daylight, even! And you don't even think that's weird! I bet you probably think I'm weird for even thinking that's weird."

"...I didn't, until just now. You're weird, Prompto."

"Thanks! ... So are you serious about the beef jerky? Your bodyguard really likes it?"

"Yeah. Probably because it's about as close as he can get to just eating a live dualhorn like an apple without being an actual woods-dwelling psychopath, that was kind of his secret dream when he was ten."

"Do you think he can catch it in his mouth?"

"Oh, sure, but I don't think he'd do it, now that there's been a whole thing in the car over it."

"Awesome! I bet it'd piss him royally if I was better at it than him."

From: (Anonymous)

omg I can't help it, I am 500x more suspicious re: why Niflheim gave Prom to Noctis.

The line about being seen in broad daylight broke my heart, though! This fic is so good!

From: (Anonymous)

Not OP but I love it! Your writing and characterization are great! Are going to write more of it? (not trying to pressure you, just curious, cuz I'm pretty much in love with this fill tbh)

From: (Anonymous)

(writer anon here) yes! but I am buried under responsibilities right now, I don't have a whole lot of free time to myself at the moment to write

From: (Anonymous)

I understand, thanks for letting us know! I wish you good luck with your responsibilities :)

From: (Anonymous)

"You have an apartment? Not like.. a castle, or a penthouse or something?"

"It's close to school and I don't like fretting over stuff like that. People tend to assume I'm some kind of spoiled brat, like being a prince means I can't function like a normal human being."

Ignis looks up from his cutting board long enough to give Noctis a very genteel, dry stink-eye. "Normal human beings eat vegetables, your Highness."

"Vegetables taste like they came out of the ground."

"Nix the veggies. Got it." Prompto nods. He'd expected something fancier, but the clean simplicity of Noctis' place is just as good. "This is actually really nice. Do you all live here?"

"No, but we stay over on special occasions. This one, for instance. Bodyguard duty , y'know." Gladio doesn't bother hiding the dirty look. "Just in case."

"Wise decision. There's beefy paranoid weirdos out there, you definitely don't want one of them wandering in here." Prompto just smiles and nods.

"Simmer down, ladies. It's okay, you're both pretty." Noctis breezes between them on the way to the living room. "I'm gonna play something until dinner's on. Feel free to finish making out, just don't get anything gross on the walls."

"Really? You don't want first crack at your own bed slave?" Gladio asks.

"For the sake of your happiness, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Such is the mercy of your prince, consider yourself honored, blah blah blaagh- OW." The prince hits the couch with a haphazard flop and immediately regrets it as the controller, having been wedged in the cushions, jams itself into the small of his back.

"And that's why we don't make light of formal address!" Ignis calls from the kitchen.

Gladio snorts a half-laugh. "You had that coming, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." Noctis smoothly tosses him another controller. "You still owe me a rematch on Flan Flop. You want in, Prompto?"

"N-no, thank you. Unless you want me to? Not a whole lot of video games, where I'm from. Or rather, there is, but they're not the kind of thing they allow in training, so at least you'll probably win? But it probably wouldn't be much fun for you."

"I think you're overestimating Flan Flop, this is the absolute worst game ever made."

"Then... um. Not questioning, but curious: if it's bad, why do you play it?"

"It's a so-bad-it's-good kind of thing." Gladio, maybe in an effort to make some degree of peace with the new kid, hands him the box.

A poorly-drawn Flan (with googly-eyes that are pointing in opposite directions) is rampant across the cover, awkwardly headbutting a second poorly-drawn Flan (with an obliviously happy idiot's smile on its face) as it slides vertically down a wall.

"It's a racing game, the idea is you have a Flan, and you have to get from one end of the stage to the other, and there's little puzzle events, it's great. You sync your phone up with the game, and on your phone you can train your Flan up to have better stats, and then you race it against other people's Flans."

"Thing is, there's this amazing glitch if you equip it with one of the starting gear armors." Noctis holds up his phone to display his Flan, proudly named Prince Floptis, wearing (or rather, holding within its goopy body) a baseball cap with the word FLOP printed on it. "It gives your Flan a +1 intelligence, and intelligence determines how your Flan handles puzzles and succeeds at wits-related events. Thing is, you can't un-equip it once it's on. You can equip it with other things on top of the hat and those stats will stack as high as you want, but that +1 will never change."

"End result: super strong, super fast, super tough, super incompetent Flans that will always get critical failures at everything besides running the maze, but almost always manage to survive all the terrible decisions they make anyway. The forums call it the Squishy Metal Idiot Challenge."

"And... that's fun?"

"It's great, here, watch this, we'll start a new maze."

Watching two incredibly powerful-looking cartoon flans bumble around a maze, occasionally getting special events and failing them miserably ("Prince Floptis sees a sign posted on the wall! .... But he can't read! Prince Floptis is confused!") , is way more entertaining than he would have guessed, particularly with the shoddy graphics and goofy music. Prompto tries his level best to stay quiet and unobtrusive, and he does a fantastic job, right up until Flopiolus, having fallen into a pit trap after digging it, begins breaking its way through the walls of the maze towards the goal; after that, it's a riot of undignified giggling.

"And Flopiolus wins again," Gladio says. "Truly the mightiest Flan to ever Flop. Good lesson for you, Noct: no matter how bad your ideas suck, if you try hard and believe in yourself, you can dig through the floor."

"Words of wisdom from the greatest of all Squishy Metal Idiots. Best three out of five?"

"You're on-- hey, Ignis? What are you making in there?" Watching Gladio suddenly become aware of kitchen smells is almost as entertaining as the game. Distracted from being prickly about Prompto's presence and having had plenty of time to work up an appetite, he all but drifted out of the living room.

Prompto takes the opportunity to lean in a little closer to Noctis and lowers his voice. "Just so I know, am I supposed to make out with your bodyguards if they want? Or am I allowed to refuse that?"

"I'm sorry-- what?"

"I mean, I'm not questioning your judgment here or anything, and I know you were just being sarcastic before, but.. I mean, that's not a weird thing in my.. um, line of work, let's say. I just want to know where the line is so I don't cross it."

For a few seconds, Noctis just stares. Up until this point it was easy to just write Prompto's "work" off as sort of a cultural idiosyncrasy, something that was sort of foreign and weird but not... wrong, really. And then, voice lowered, and with a half-skirted look towards the kitchen, as if he already felt like he'd be in trouble just for having this conversation, he hustles Prompto off to the end of the hallway and, hopefully, out of earshot. "Are you asking me if my friends can.. 'use' you? What the hell are you on about, Mr. Not A Whore?"

Prompto tries his best not to give him a dry look in response, and points to his bar code again. "Furniture, remember? To me, it's the same thing as asking whether you're okay with letting your friends crash on your couch, except I'm the couch."

"Stop saying that! You're not an inanimate object that just sits there and gets sat on whether it wants to or not. You have thoughts and feelings, right? So maybe you're not strictly human, you'd know better than I would, but you're still a person, Prompto."

"But I'm really-"

"Then consider yourself promoted to person, okay? We've established you're into the bed slave thing, and that's fine, that's your business, but that doesn't make you a thing."

Prompto doesn't say anything, just stares numbly as if he understood just enough of the language to know he'd been given bad news, and doesn't know how to react.

There's no script for this, no appropriate reaction. There had never been any lessons on what to do if his owner refused to own him, but didn't send him back or have him deleted. So he doesn't say anything, and just nods, falling back on silence as the one reaction that, as far as he knows, will always be acceptable.

It's a long silence, and eventually, Noctis gives up. He sighs heavily, and puts his hands on Prompto's shoulders, and tries hard to pretend he didn't feel those shoulders tense under his fingers.

"... Okay, okay, you're not ready for that, I get it. Instead, new ground rule: you are one hundred percent not allowed to have sexual contact of any kind, unless you actually want them, and not like a means to an end, either, if it ever comes up. It's not a chore, or a job, or a.. a function, or whatever, if it's not something that you personally want to do, then you don't do it. Ever. You don't have any job responsibilities that obligate you to have sex with anybody under any circumstances, including me. If anybody tells you different, you have a standing order to get the hell away from them as soon as you can, and if somebody assaults you and you can't reach me, or Gladio, or Ignis for some reason, you have my full permission-- no, my gods-given blessing to kill them on the spot. Got that?"

Prompto nods, and lightly rests his fingertips on Noctis' wrist, a bare, whisper-soft touch that makes a prickle of heat run up the back of his neck; the shame and thrill of secretly breaking a rule. Noctis can barely hear it when he says, "Yes, your Highness," but it sounds less like obedience than respect.

From: (Anonymous)

Fuck I love this so much <3

Noctis promoted him to personhood, bless.

From: (Anonymous)

ooh poor thing ç-ç

From: (Anonymous)

I love your writing so far and the characterizations are great. Poor, poor Prompto.

From: (Anonymous)

I love this so, so much.

From: (Anonymous)

Pllsssss updaaate

From: (Anonymous)

It hasn't been updated since April. It's abandoned.

From: (Anonymous)

Author here: this is NOT abandoned! I have a full time job that gets extremely busy during the summer and I have very little truly free time to write, and my weekends are usually booked up with all the stuff I have to put off during the week. I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep up with this like I want, but that doesn't mean you should go around making statements about other people's work.

Re: FILL: Gracious (Noctis/Prompto, slave AU) 4/?

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-07-22 07:49 am (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

(Author!Anon: Sorry for short update! But better than nothing!)

--

If there's any awkwardness regarding Prompto's promotion to person, neither he nor Noctis shows it, and that's mainly because neither of them bring it up. When Gladio calls them in to eat, Noctis draws away from Prompto with a whisper of black sleeve passing under the bed-slave's hand, and the matter is considered quietly and completely resolved.

Ignis brings out dinner with his usual placid delight, with Gladio trying not to be too obviously grumpy and Prompto trying his absolute best not to be openly thrilled at the idea of being allowed to eat with everyone else.

"I'm afraid the documentation didn't provide any insight as to what you might prefer," he explains, setting dishes down. "Hopefully it won't be too unpalatable for you, I'm not very familiar with Niflheim's culinary culture."

"That's fine, I'm not really familiar with it either," Prompto assures him, and defiantly doesn't shrink, seeing that disapproving crease in Gladio's forehead. Instead, the first whiff of sizzling red meat almost makes his eyes roll back in his head, and for a minute he can't say anything without risking an embarrassing river of drool falling down his chin; to his credit, Ignis doesn't comment, and merely takes it as a compliment.

"That bad, huh?" Noctis asks. "What, they don't feed fancy bed-slaves fancy food?"

"Sort of? My handlers had me on a high-nutrient diet from the start because I was born kind of wimpy. Usually a bed-slave on my level of commission gets fed pretty well, but they had to deviate with me on a lot of things for medical reasons. It's not that it was bad or anything, but protein blocks only come in so many flavors, and they all kind of taste--"

"--like somebody scraped out an old peanut butter jar with a piece of shoe leather?" Gladio finishes the statement with a surprisingly easy, if somewhat grudging, half-smile, and it eases the remaining tension at the table considerably.

"Yeah!" Prompto beams. "Guess that's part of a royal bodyguard's diet too, huh?"

"For a year, yeah." Gladio pats his own shoulder. "Can't build muscle from nothing."

"Man. I eat shoe leather for my whole life, I turn into this. You eat shoe leather for a year, you turn into a big ol' stack of that." Prompto sighs.

"Eating real food and dedicated, hardcore training probably had something to do with it," Noctis says, and slides a plate Prompto's way, partly just to watch his reaction. "So don't sweat the protein blocks, that's a thing of the past. On this side of the Wall, we have Iggy's cooking. Literally fit for a prince."

"Well, except the vegetables, apparently."

"Except the vegetables. And the beans. But that's not a reflection on you. I'm sure that your vegetables and beans are delicious to people who like to eat gross stuff."

"If that's the best you can do on the subject, I'll accept that as being very flattering, your highness."

"You're welcome."

Prompto's reaction is definitely worth it. Pan-fried skewers of red meat and peppers, glazed with a spicy-sweet sauce with a bright citrusy scent to it and served with fluffy, buttery rice with garlic and pepper; obviously leagues better than anything someone who had only recently been awarded full personhood had ever experienced, Prompto almost can't identify what precisely he's looking at, and he's internally grateful that no one's asked him to actually name the dish.

For a few seconds, all he can do is stare, even after the others have already started eating. "You-- I'm sorry, I'm not trying to question, but-- " Prompto swallows and looks to Noctis. "You eat like this every day?"

Noctis answers so quickly he forgets not to talk with his mouth full. "Yeah! Is that weird?"

"Well, no, but--"

Noctis swallows, and smiles. Really smiles, this one backed with honest love and pride, no jokes or silliness in evidence. "But nothing. From now on, so do you."

Ignis chafes a little at Noctis' manners, but he lets it go, seeing Gladio's expression. Approval doesn't often cross his face so openly, and it would be a shame to ruin the moment.

From: (Anonymous)

Oh my gosh I just CAAAAAN'T. Fucccck this is the most adorable and bittersweet thing ever. You are a writing godly-entity, and I hope you can recognize that you're sort of the best.

From: (Anonymous)

oooohhhhhhhhhhh
prompto prepare your stomach for The Heaven *_*

From: (Anonymous)

Whatever training Niflheim puts bed-slaves through seems to include formal dining etiquette, though it's a weirdly demure version of what he's used to seeing during court dinners and stuffy holiday banquets: eyes always lowered, utensils always poised at protractor-perfect angles when in use, laid perfectly centered on a folded napkin otherwise. Small bites of food, small sips of drink, each bite always chewed for four seconds exactly and swallowed quickly, even when it seems obvious that Prompto would rather be stuffing his face.

...which is exactly why Noctis finds himself just a tiny bit disappointed.

Ignis puts more effort into being polite and refined than most people put into their favorite hobbies, and although he always tries to play it cool, food is his passion. Although he's never exactly said so out loud, the most satisfying part of serving a meal for him, the thing that actually makes that proud, just-a-tiny-bit-smug glint light up his eyes, is watching the expression on someone's face when they take that first bite. Noctis has learned to watch for it too, not just for Ignis' sake, but because there's a very special version of that expression that only ever happens once: the very first bite of the very first meal that Ignis cooks for someone is an experience that can't be repeated. Once you have Iggy's cooking, you know how good it is, it colors every bite of every meal you ever put in your mouth ever again. Even the dry, tasteless school cafeteria meals get better after that, if only because they give you a better appreciation for the good stuff.
The first time you eat Iggy's cooking, you should be stuffing your face, or at least doing that thing where you chew forever and actively try not to swallow because you're not ready to stop tasting it yet, not taking dainty pecks at it. And it's frustrating, because Noctis knows exactly how important that first meal is, especially how important it is to Ignis. It's like watching someone sit outside to gleefully anticipate a shooting star, only to have it kind of roll primly across the sky trying not to make a fuss.

I could just tell him to skip the knife-and-fork parade and dig in, he'd do it if I told him to, Noctis thinks, and immediately hates himself for it. After that, he spends a disproportionate amount of time admiring the bottom of his glass and feeling guilty, and once dinner has properly passed, he jumps to his feet to get the dishes.

Ignis, not quite halfway out of his chair, stares at this like Noctis just grew a second head. "Noct, what are you--"

"It's okay, I got it. You got the groceries and cooked, I pretty much just goofed off all day. There's Ebony in the fridge, too."

Three pairs of wide eyes watch the infamously lazy prince as he leaps at the chance to do a chore, and Gladio is the first to blurt out, "All right, who are you, and what have you done with the prince?"

"Har har. It's my house, I can do the dishes if I want." Noctis scoops up the empty plates, and Prompto all but jumps out of his skin when they disappear in a little flurry of sparkles.

Gladio sighs. "Can't you just carry them, like a normal person?"

"If I were a 'normal' person, none of us would be here." Noctis grins. "And this way, it only takes one trip."

"Wh-what the Hell did--? I mean--" Prompto straightens up and tries hard to get his decorum back, but it's long gone, those big, blue eyes darting all over the table. "E-excuse my outburst, please. What just happened?"

"I suppose if you'll be living here, it was unavoidable," Ignis sighs heavily, and deftly conjures a knife from nothing. "This is an ability of the Lucian kings, bestowed to Gladiolus and I by Noctis' power. The specifics are difficult to describe--"

From the kitchen, as the sound of running water kicks on, Noctis interrupts. "He means we don't really know how it works, because it's magic."

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose again, and Gladio picks up where he left off. "Look, the bottom line is that magic given by the Crystal is more of an art than a science. The weapons we conjure are normal, but they turn into light whenever they aren't summoned. Noctis can do that with any non-living thing he can touch, if he can pick it up."

"W-whoa." Prompto stares. "You-- so it's real? The Crystal really does have magic?"

"...Of course it does." Ignis frowns slightly. "What else should it have?"

"I-- um. Your Highness? ...Is it allright if-- right, sorry, permanent permission to speak freely." Prompto smiles awkwardly. "Niflheim doesn't really have magic... most people there don't even really believe it exists. Or it does, but it isn't really "magic", it's more like the Crystal is thought to be a non-sentient living thing with unique abilities to affects its environment, and the Lucian line has a symbiotic relationship with it."

Gladio outright laughs. "How the Hell did they come to that conclusion?!"

"I have no idea, that's just what it says in the textbooks."

"How can your culture completely disbelieve in magic? Didn't Niflheim kill the Glacian?"

"It's not that we don't believe in magic, we just don't believe that magic is this... inexplicable force, ruled by emotions or psychic powers. The founding principle of science is that everything has an explanation and obeys the natural laws of physics, we just don't know what they are yet. That's why it's called Magitek. Like the genetic engineering we use for MT production, right? There was a time when we thought there was something magical and mysterious about having children, but that's because no one knew what DNA was then. Now we understand it so well, we can make entirely synthetic humanoid DNA. It's the same thing: if we understood more about the Crystal, who knows? Maybe we could make little synthetic mini-crystals that can hold a backpack's worth of stuff someday."

"What does Niflheim have to say about Elemancy?" Ignis smiles, curious and amused.

"Same thing as the Wall, the ability to affect the environment through the symbiosis with the Crystal... that's so cool! Can you do other stuff with it?" Prompto asks.

Noctis answers by throwing a fork from the kitchen into the living room wall and point-warping across the room. Prompto actually does fall out of his chair this time, shocked and delighted in equal measure. "AWESOME!"

"Noctis!" Ignis scolds him almost on instinct. "Not indoors!"

"What? I don't knock stuff over anymore, watch." Noctis point-warps back to the kitchen, flawlessly landing without even dripping dish soap from his hands.
Gladio pats Ignis' shoulder, nodding over to the four rows of little holes left by the fork. "Don't be too mad, Iggy. Check out how far it went in, he's been practicing."

Ignis sighs, and decides to let this one go; the damage is already done, no sense complaining. "I'll call to have it repaired in the morning."

"I can probably do it," Prompto pops up to his feet and goes to inspect the damage, then realizes he's spoken out of turn, and returns to the table. "Um, that is, if you want me to."

"They teach bed-slaves how to do home repair?" Gladio raises an eyebrow.

"They teach bed-slaves how to do lots of things. I get that you have kind of a.. simplified... view of what a bed-slave is, but I really am highly trained." Prompto gestures to the holes in the wall. "The essence of my job is making my owner's home a better, more comfortable place, so that he can have a better, more comforting life. Most of the time that means basic domestic skills, but I studied advanced engineering. Get me enough tools, lumber, sheetrock, and paint, and I could replace the whole wall if you want."

"Why would they teach you something like that?" Ignis asks. Gladio has that suspicious look on his face again, but Ignis' curiosity is much more genuine.

"Well.. I was commissioned for a noble, they told you that, right?" Prompto looks at his hands, sobered, the previous delight from watching Noctis' warping set entirely aside. "The noble I was commissioned for wanted me to learn to build and fix things because he... liked to break things, over and over. So he told them not to give me any conditioning, and spend that time having me learn new skills instead. On top of the usual basics-- domestic skills, personal service, etiquette-- they trained me in engineering, carpentry, tailoring, medicine, and.. um. Self-surgery. There were specific instructions that I'd need to be really good at that."

Gladio pales a bit, and that note of anger in his voice from the car is back in force, though this time, it's not directed anywhere near Prompto himself. "...And they were still going to send you to fill that order?"

"Right up until the attempt to siege the Crown City, yes. When the Emperor announced that there would have to be a new peace agreement and that tradition demanded a gift to the House of King Regis, a bed-slave was considered the best way to meet that demand without giving up land or material goods, and I was the only one anywhere close to completely trained. My scheduled owner agreed to have me released so the Emperor could send me." He swallows. "If things hadn't gone the way they did, I'd probably be at his manor right now."

Gladio gets up from the table with a dissatisfied grunt, unable to listen to any of this any more without putting more tension in the room, and goes to take his displeasure out on some scouring pads.

Ignis watches him, and then looks to Prompto. "Hm. If we're expecting the peace talks to be productive, hopefully it won't matter, but if not, it may be wise to know more about this noble in case we ever need to deal with him diplomatically. Did you know him very well, before you left?"

Prompto shakes his head. "No, but everybody who's heard of him knows his reputation. I hope I never do, and I hope you never meet him either, any of you. Nobody feels right around Chancellor Izunia."

From: (Anonymous)

self-surgery? Ardyn holy shit >.

From: (Anonymous)

Oh oh oh, bad touch Chancellor makes his enterance. This is gonna be gud. XD
Ardyn is a pretty good sport for giving up his bed slave/pet. Specially one that seemed to be a top tier selection. I hope he won't try to get Prompto back.

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(Anonymous) - Re: FILL: Gracious (Noctis/Prompto, slave AU) 2/?

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