FFXV Drabbles/Oneshots {📥}REQUESTS OPEN{📥}

Fleeting Beauty Ending 3

Prompto couldn't fall asleep that night, the feeling of immense guilt eating at his heart.

I should've kept my eyes on her.

Maybe I would've noticed the signs earlier if I had.

"Fuck," Prompto groaned, rolling over to lay on his stomach. Curling in on himself, a whimper fell from his lips and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He hated feeling this way — he hated feeling hopeless, feeling useless — especially when someone he cared about was in danger.

As the sun rose over the horizon and rays of light caught on blond hair, a groan tore through the atmosphere of the caravan, waking the royal advisor from his slumber. Ignis stood from where he lay, his emerald green eyes landing on the gunman.

"Did you get any sleep at all, Prompto?" the tactician voiced, a frown settling on his features. In all the time he had known the twenty-year-old, Ignis had never seen him this distraught over something. Needless to say, it worried him greatly.

Prompto released yet another groan in response to Ignis's question, which only caused the man's frown to deepen. Taking quick strides, Ignis stood next to where the blond had propped himself up, more than willing to knock some sense into the man — which was usually Gladio's job. In fact, he was about to do just that when a commotion outside drew their attention away from one another.

Prompto was the first to jump out of the caravan, his paranoia already kicking in. All he could think about was worse case scenarios — all of which involved (Y/n) being dead or severely wounded. However, what truly met his eyes was sobering, to say the least.

(Y/n) walked into the outpost, a hand running through her hair. She groaned at the feel of the dried blood coating her fingers and most of her hair. If there was one thing she hated, it was being a mess. Nevertheless, the girl continued on towards Takka's, eager to be able to take a shower afterwards.

"Yo, Takka!" At the sound of her voice, the man behind the counter looked at her with a mix of relief and anger. She approached him, each step bringing her closer to a slightly perturbed man.

"Where have you been, kid?! I thought you were going on those hunts with the others, so why did you --"

"Relax, Takka," (Y/n) was quick to interrupt him, hoping she'd be able to talk her way out of this mess. She knew that those hunts were dangerous, and to have done them alone like she had was basically suicide. Yet here she was, standing and alive. "Why should it matter if I lied or told the truth, anyway? I mean, I took care of the problems, didn't I?"

That caused him to pause, lips pressed together as her words sunk in. He was seconds away from asking her once more when two bodies burst through the door.

"(N/n)?!" Prompto's voice caused her to turn around, and she barely had the chance to see the fear on his face before she was being pulled against his chest in a bone-crushing embrace. His forehead rested against her shoulder, and she felt his tears as they stained her shirt.

But, despite this being most everything she had been waiting for from the blond, she couldn't find it in herself to wrap her arms around the man in return. So she stood there, arms hanging limply at her sides. Prompto picked up on her hesitation — hesitation that was unusual coming from her — and pulled away.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" his voice took on a hard edge as he spoke, hands gripping her shoulders harshly, and his eyes turned cold, just for a split second. But it was enough time for (Y/n) to see it and to react to it; her eyes went wide and her breath hitched as she tried to get away from the blond. But he held steadfast, his fingers digging into her skin and his lips screwed together. His eyes softened the second she tried to get away, and his expression reminded her of a kicked puppy. "Why did you do that, (N/n)? Why'd you go off on your own? You know you could've come to any one of us and we'd have helped you, right?"

She couldn't reply; the lump in her throat prevented any words from spilling from her lips. Prompto must have picked up on her inability to speak as he sighed.

"I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come back, chickadee," he muttered, pulling the girl back into his arms. He brought his chin to rest on her shoulder, his mouth situated next to her ear. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here. You're safe..."

"Pro-Prom?" (Y/n) spoke as soon as her voice resurfaced, her tears already falling.

"Just, please — don't ever do that to me again, alright?" His hot breath fanned over her ear and her breath hitched. A strangled cry fell from her lips as his next words reached her.

"I love you, chickadee."