Could I pretty please get a sad, lonely Prompto who thinks his love will never see him as more than a sunny friend be consoled by said girl who places kisses on all his freckles? Love youuuuu!!! (also love his cute freckies <3)
HELLO LOVELY ANON. I am so sorry it takes me a while to get to these prompts, I hope you can forgive me, and I hope this is what you were looking for! PURE FLUFF AHEAD. Tagging some babes that may enjoy. @insomniascure @cupnoodle-queen @blindbae @themissimmortal @itshaejinju @misssarahdoll @the-lucian-archives @noxfreyas @saphscribes @louisvuittontrashbags @fieryfantasy
Prompto’s very soul blossoms under your whimsical light, truths―pleasant, unpleasant and everything between―bared on blooming petals. There are some days when he wants to curl in on himself, to let the laundry pile up and the light evade him, but then you stride in with your vim and vigor and you coax him from his loneliness, from his self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy. With gentleness and sweetness and an attentive eye, you tend to your sunflower like a devoted gardener. With hands clasped and a bounce in your step, Prompto is sucked back into the sea of you and away from the shores of his sadness. And like a sunflower, filled with the warmth of his sun’s love, he only looks at you.
As is in the sun’s nature, your gaze spreads far and your love with it. Your love is so pure, and so plentiful that sometimes Prompto feels himself wilting when your light falls on another. He feels defective, faulty in his search for the happiness that always seems to ebb and flow, fickle as the tide. When will she look at me like that, he wonders as you search for frogs with Noctis in the swamps of Duscae. A toothy grin splays on your lips and the apples of your cheeks look ripe with happiness. It’s childlike, the way you hold the wriggling frog above your head and stomp through the mire to Noctis, a look of triumph enveloping your features. Prompto sits at the dock and watches ripples form in the water with the lazy sway of the stick he holds. With his hand curled and pressed against his cheek, his cat-like lips purse and he sighs. From a distance, you watch Prompto look more and more deflated and feel compelled to step in.
“Be right back,” you quickly murmur to Noctis as you trudge through the waters and back to the mud.
“Suit yourself,” Noctis scoffs and continues his search. “By the time you get back there’ll be none left for the taking.”
You approach Prompto on the dock, muddy and sopping wet, but he doesn’t shy away from you when you take a seat beside him. “Hey, sunshine, why the long face? Feelin’ overcast?”
You’re surprised when his lips don’t even twinge into a smile at your goofy pun.
“I’m sorry―it was a good pun, promise. I am just…” he sighs, mind racing with all the different ways he could say everything without saying anything.
“Prom, you know you can tell me anything. I feel like ever since this trip started you’ve been acting funny.” Gently, you coax him, and your hand comfortably rests atop his, like a leaf falling to ground.
“There are just some things that are best left unsaid,” his voice is almost a whisper, his gaze is far-off and always parallel to yours. You feel your heart pumping faster in your chest, like your body knows something you haven’t caught wind of.
“If it was better left unsaid then it wouldn’t be tearing you apart from the inside out. Nothing that painful is worth bearing alone. Consider me a confessional.” Slowly, you turn on your bum and press your back against his. You hear him sigh and hope that it’s one of relief. For a moment, there’s silence, and you listen to the frogs croaking and the rustling of the branches above your head.
“Have you ever…had feelings for someone who never…looked at you that way?”
“Of course,” came your honest reply, and you leaned on the palms of your hands, head falling to Prompto’s shoulder.
“Like, everyone around you has all these outstanding qualities and you’re just…you. You don’t feel special; you don’t feel like there is anything that endears anyone to you. You’re just you, a nobody clinging to somebodys.”
“Objection,” you interject, and Prompto freezes, as if he’s forgotten he’d been talking to someone.
“You’re the most substantial person I’ve ever met. Prompto, you’ve lived through so many hardships and still there’s this light in you, this drive on dark days that propels you forward. You’re worthy of so much more than you’ll allow yourself,” your words are strong and sure as they leave your lips and Prompto is shaken by them, heart fluttering in his chest. He goes to lean against his palm and his hand meets yours, a petal fallen.
He clenches his eyes shut, pained by his indecision, and he lets his thoughts ferment. You twirl in front of him, sure hands falling to his shoulders and his eyes fly open. Like a rose, he’s flushed by your proximity and every inch of him screams to shy away. Slowly, as if gauging his response, you lean closer to him and he swears he’s never felt his heart pump so fast. His lips part, eyes wide as your lips descend on his cheeks. “Every freckle is something to love about you,” you murmur as your lips drag across his cheek to the next site. “Your sense of humor.” Another kiss. “Your courage in times where you could succumb to your fear.” Slowly, you bring yourself closer to his lips and his are quivering, anticipating. “The way you look at me and give me butterflies.” And your words give him butterflies.
You stop, so close to his lips that he can feel your breath fan against them. So close, that he can map the ripples of color in your eyes. So close, he could let himself fall into you like the ocean and be swallowed whole. When you plant your lips on his, soft, slow, languid, he feels alive―no, human. For the first time, he feels like the heart pumping inside of him is real. He feels real.