A/N: *Throws herself to the closest trashbin* Sooooooooooooo, it turns out that I like the idea of Ardyn having a thing for Prompto more than I should and took it too far. Oops, I did it again! But seriously, I have no idea what this is, it was supposed to be a serious fic then it turned cracky, then got serious again... Just read it if you like this kind of stuff lmao.
Here is what inspired me to write this: post/154799799983/ardyn-creeping-out-prompto
to possess
You watch the hyperactive blond gesticulate wildly with his hands.
The merry band is sitting on a nearby table, ordering food after a long day of hunting and playing heroes of the people, doing missions and whatnot out of the kindness of their hearts. They look more like a boy band than a royal ensemble, so engrossed in their own shenanigans to notice you watching them, hidden among the crowd.
You should be watching the prince, that little usurper just like his father and the ones before him, even sharing the same wretched looks, living the life that rightfully belonged to you and only you.
Yet, your gaze keeps straying from him until settling finally on his loudest companion.
You just can't compel yourself to look away.
The blond, Prompto Argentum , has both knees up on the bench serving as seat, his back a perfect arch as he bends over the table to swap at the prince across from him for something he said. Your eyes wander to his skin tight pants and admire appreciatively the obscene way they hug those shapely legs and most importantly, his round perky behind. The curve of his ass in the air, moving from one side to the other as he tries to keep his balance is nothing short of captivating despite the less than ideal circumstances.
He has taken off his jacket at some point, and you're able to see the patch of naked skin over his hips from where his shirt has risen due to his current position. He extends one gloved hand to reach for one of the popsicles they'd bought earlier from one of the many street vendors, the muscles of his wiry freckled arms shifting with the movement. Ignis Scientia mutters a line about how he'll get fat; the blond merely shrugs and unwraps his deserved sweet.
You prepare for impact as Prompto's rosy lips pucker, open wide, separate from each other, allowing entrance to the frozen snack and closing around it provocatively. Blue eyes close in utter bliss. Prompto shoves it further inside his mouth, cheeks hollowing out while he sucks on the popsicle in such a dedicated manner you begin to feel a familiar throbbing below the belt. Occasionally, there is a glimpse of pink tongue lapping up the sides, licking the drops, not wanting to waste one bit before the sweet disappears once more inside that warm cave.
You have always known those sinful lips were meant for worshipping, is what you think while you imagine a different thing altogether trespassing the boy's virgin mouth.
Prompto emits a delicious moan and pulls out the popsicle entirely, a string of saliva connecting that flexible organ that you already know works quite well. Another satisfied little whimper and the miraculous tongue gets right on the job again, makes its path up and down, up and down, then twists around the popsicle. It's worth noting that though the boy has tried his best to not let a drop escape from his treacherous mouth, his fingers get coated eventually with melted ice cream, fact he realizes after a while and, with an impressive amount of naivety and a certain type of innocence, starts licking those as well. Pops those slim fingers inside his mouth and suuucks.
You swallow nothing and try to very discreetly adjust your pants. He ought to have more self awareness; Gods forbid some random pervert is getting off on this. Just in case, you turn around to check if there is anyone else creeping up on the blond from the shadows. Satisfied at the lack of an affirmative answer, you return to staring creepily from the shadows.
Its singlehandedly the most erotic scene you have ever had the pleasure of witnessing and you have been around longer than any of the occupants of that table combined with the entire population of Lestallum.
The blond is so focused on the task of…. Eating- if the show he's performing that puts to shame any well versed escort can be called that-he doesn't catch Ignis Scientia and Gladiolus Amicitia rolling their eyes, giving pointed looks towards the prince, who's face is shifting colors so fast you almost expect him to pass out from the continued flow of blood rushing to his head at full speed. It's almost funny how hard he's trying to save face by pretending to be unbothered by the act yet failing completely. Even his ears are starting to turn thirty shades of red. You would have laughed, except you feel -asides from a tightening in your pants- a prickle of annoyance thinking that it's Noctis, not you, the one who gets to see the blonds' face in the throes of passion (nevermind that said passion is because of a bloody popsicle), his sculpted cheekbones blooming with an alluring blush and those pretty, pretty freckles on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose you wish to trace with both fingers and tongue standing out against his blushed pale flesh.
At one point, when Prompto is taking turns licking his gloved palm, fingers and after what's left of the popsicle, the prince's eyes seem about to pop out of his head thanks to the intent staring he's doing, bedroom eyes full on display. His shield and advisor keep pinching his arms and swatting him on the head to no avail. The young man has apparently lost all inhibitions and any semblance of subtlety he wished to maintain and is currently eyeballing shamelessly the gorgeous blond. Not that you can blame him, even as you want to make an untimely appearance and give him a good tap on the head with the good help of a sharp sword.
Then, the unexpected happens.
The beautiful boy does this extremely delightful thing with his tongue and suddenly, the prince makes a choked sound at the same time a drop of red descends from his nose. That drop soon turns into a thin trail, and grows, and grows until it becomes a full blown river of blood.
Ignis freezes, Gladiolus's mouth is hanging open and Prompto's Argentum unfinished popsicle falls to the ground with a 'splash'.
You stare flabbergasted, your own arousal fades into the background for a second because really?!
A fucking nosebleed?!
"Fuck!" the undeserving prince curses and flails frantically for napkins or anything useful to wipe his nose with.
But he's not a prince anymore, isn't he?
What a pathetic joke of a King, you scoff, seeing the ever professional Ignis immediately spring into action. He orders Noctis to put his head back to stop the bleeding while Gladiolus shoves the closest napkins in his face, half smothering Noctis in the process. Prompto merely observes, wide eyed and looking back and forth between the advisor and shield.
The situation is ridiculous enough to produce a snort out of you. If this is what the Astrals wanted as their Chosen King then you are greatly disappointed, especially when after a few minutes of flaunting and causing a ruckus the situation is solved, ending up with Noctis having two tampons-that a passing couple kindly gave them and you have to give it up to them since they managed to not burst into laughter at the idiocy of it all-filling up his nostrils, arms crossed in front of his chest like a five year old and a scowl darkening his features.
"What the actual fuck, man?" Gladio has been repeating the same phrase over and over "What the actual fuck?"
"Would you cut it out already!" exclaims Noctis fed up with the same line of questioning. It would have been more effective had his voice not sounded similar to a prepubescent girl with sinusitis.
He pushes up one of the tampons that theatened to fall off "I don't know what happened. It must be an effect of the awakening of The Archean, just like the headaches"
What could have been an acceptable explanation ruined entirely by the small detail that Gladio, Ignis, yourself and almost every passerby had seen the future king drooling like a mindless dogover Prompto Argentum with the notable exception of the cause himself, who had been too preoccupied servicing the presently deceased popsicle.
Ignis for his part seems nonplussed by his friend's comment and sighs "Yes, of course. The Archean. How could we forget. Are you sure you are in no need of rest?" he asks this in a dry tone.
The heir to the throne of Lucis gives Ignis a look just as dry and rejects the sarcastic suggestion.
Opposite him, the blond reverts to a more normal way of sitting, his cute rump no longer on display to your own dismay, and pouts slightly "Maybe Specs is right, Noct. What if your condition worsens?" He speaks with his stupidly attractive voice, the perfect combination of boyish charm and happy-go-lucky tones to match evenly with his personality.
"I just think you should consider it. I know we're hard pressed for time but we can afford at least one more day, right?"
He looks at the other members of their group for approval and he reminds you so much of a puppy you have the strong urge to pat him on his blond head. And everywhere else on his body too, now that you mention it.
The number one person in your 'most hated' list goes to answer Prompto's question but as he does, one of the tampons slips from his left nostril and it's blood bath time of the non violence required kind once again. This time though, Prompto is not able to contain himselfand explodes in admittedly-and here you go using the one word you never thought to use in two thousand years, where on Eos is your pride-, disturbingly cute actual giggles, throws his head back showing the expanse of his long slender neck, laughs raucously and you are surprised for the second time to find yourself thinking that it's nice, a very nice sound.
His laugh, you mean.
Normally anything related to joy or happiness makes you wanna pull a couple of teeth but this laugh, this sound, you don't mind at all. And it is not even remotely sexual or related to sex which is what shocks you the most. It's one thing to lust after someone, that while it isn't exactly a common occurrence is absolutely more understandable to you than actively rejoicing in someone else's corny laughter (ewwww, what the actual fuck indeed Ardyn, get a grip).
Prompto wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and grabs a napkin to fold it in a similar shape to that of the tampon. Noctis looks unruffled, annoyed and fond, the three of those emotions caused by the laughing blond.
So you weren't the only one affected...
"Good to know you're having a blast at my expense. And here I was thinking you were worried about me"
"You wouldn't say that if you had seen the look on your face, it was priceless! Now stop being such a drama queen and come here"
Probably not thinking much of what he is going to do, Prompto leans over the table again-and yes, your eyes travel down south so it takes you some time to actually see that Prompto has grabbed the prince by the chin and is cleaning the blood off his face using his free hand. This move takes Noctis by surprise and his grabby fingers clutch onto Prompto's wrist. That one wrist. The wrist. Your wrist.
The gunner stops, both hands touching Noctis's rotten skin, the new king's own hand holding onto him. They stare at each other straight in the eyes; something shifts in the air around them. Blue meets blue and skin meets skin where they connect. The blushes return to their cheeks with a vicious vengeance but none of them dares to move, they seem frozen inside their own little private world while the real world watches them with disgust and hatred because such a horrid affair should not take place under any circumstance. You think, the little king would do well to remember he is engaged and due to marry soon with the fair Oracle, Lady Lunafeya Nox Fleuret and has nothing to do dwelling on cheesy romances with commoners, albeit how beautiful those commoners in question might be.
You wish someone would remind him of his royal duties and direct your gaze to Gladio and Ignis, expecting them to know better and put an end to this madness but soon enough, you realize you gave them more credit than what they actually deserved as the two of them just roll their eyes and look at the two younger boys in amusement. Like proud parents would.
The impending doom of humanity in favor of the daemons starts getting more and more appealing each second that passes where Noctis doesn't take his hands off what does not belong to him.
And that is the main issue to begin with, isn't it? Has been for the longest time, but that is about to change.
After too long minutes of torture, Prompto finally smiles, a shy upturn of the lips.
"Hey" It's awkward and not smooth at all but so like him.
"Hello" Noctis responds, a dorky smile of his own directed at Prompto and you can see it then, as the prince's hand slips from the wrist to cover the back of the other man's hand. The gunner's grin gets impossibly bigger. Prettier, even. And at last, he introduces the goddamn folded napkin on Noctis's nose; all the while both are smiling from ear to ear.
There's no denying what is happening, what you've seen unfold between them. You can't unsee the Prince's smitten expression or the way Prompto returns the attention as if the sun shone out of Noctis's ass.
Amazing really, to even think that you had ever conceived the thought of stealing the Oracle for yourself back when you thought she was the owner of his heart. When you thought that there was no better reward than beautiful, loyal and smart Lady Lunafreya to reign by your side as she was meant to be. Your heart used to throb in ecstasy thinking what the prince's face would be like having lost everything he ever owned and seeing the love of his life hanging off your arm instead of his.
What had never been a part of the equation, however, was the appearance of one Prompto Argentum and that was a major mistake on your part, you have no one else to blame but yourself for missing the one miscalculation that changed every rule in your game with Noctis. You had never expected, had not foreseen how addicting the blond could be. You had never expected either that it was him and not the Oracle, as it was supposed to be, the one Noctis held closest to his heart.
Suddenly, nothing was ever so simple.
Suddenly, there were more things to gamble in your little game but you had been waiting for this time to come for centuries. You would not lose, could not afford to lose.
Back at the table, the boys are picking up their things as they get ready to move to the hotel to rest. In the end the prince yielded to Prompto's urging, probably to avoid suspicion from him. Ignis and Gladiolus walk a few steps behind them, trying to not be conspicuous. The gunner pinches Noctis's cheek, telling him to stop pouting. The black haired one scoffs and tugs on one lock of silky gold hair. Prompto giggles at this and you no longer think it's cute, an unfamiliar emotion coils tight around something in your chest and all you want to do is destroy him. Erase that happy look on his face whenever the prince gives him some attention and paint it in blue and purple. At the least, in that way he would be only marked by you, it would be only by your hand that…
They walk together, shoulders to shoulders and fingers brushing occasionally with every step. Your eyes zero in on the small details.
It's one thing to lust after someone. It's one thing to enjoy their aesthetics. But it's another thing entirely to feel possessive of someone.
You want what Noctis has, what Noctis thinks he's entitled to have because in fact, it all belongs to you. From the very beginning the palace, the furniture, Insomnia, this city, this country… It's all yours. Noctis is nothing more but a spoiled brat who was given the world on a silver platter, taking everything he had for granted, stomping around like a toddler with not even the slightest idea on how a true king should behave. A lie parading around in royal clothes and while he has been given the world, you still win.
He is bound to unite with the most beautiful woman in Eos, who's also the beloved Oracle of the people. He is heir to the throne of Lucis, meant to become King of all Kings. He has been chosen by the Astrals. He is admired by everyone. He owns, for now, all of your possessions except for one.
Just one is enough to be his downfall, because he doesn't know, has no clue about the most important thing. He doesn't know that as long as there is a mark, this black blemish of no consequence at all hidden by leather bracelets, burned permanently on soft, delectable flesh…
Well, as long as that exists….
Prompto is yours.
Noctis feels rightfully wary watching the man stroll around the camp with unnerving ease, as if he belongs there. As if it is his playground. And Noctis wonders for the umpteenth time why they even agreed to this insane deal, why they are letting this Ardyn guy lead them around like sheep and why on earth they're camping with him.
He chances a glance in Ignis direction, who's posted against the side of the trailer, his face glum. Gladio is tense in his chair as well, nerves on alert in case the man decides to do something funny. The only one apparently unbothered by the actual situation is Prompto, focused as he is on a new game he downloaded recently. His brows are furrowed in concentration, completely tuning out Ardyn's incessant blabbering.
Noctis huffs under his breath, envies Prompto's ability to not give a fuck about the creepy man yapping on and on with every step he takes.
He is currently waxing poetic on the meaning of owning something, what it truly means for something to belong to a person, as he passes by Noctis's spot. The young man has to force himself not to turn around to follow his movements- he doesn't think it ideal to show weakness in front of a possible threat.
Ardyn edges closer to where Prompto is sitting, and what he does next has Noctis almost falling from his chair and invoking all the swords he has accumulated on the journey. Before anyone can do a thing about it, the eccentric man leans dangerously towards the blond, the vibes around him giving off a predatory feel. Prompto seems able to sense the disturbance in the air and automatically recoils, unknowingly cowers but finds himself trapped in the plastic seat, allowing Ardyn to get uncomfortably close to him-so close his lips almost touch Promto's cheek and his hand reaches out as if to grab the blond by the chin. The man's eyes are dark with an emotion Noctis is too afraid to give a name to, doesn't dare to do it out of fear of that becoming true.
"Sometimes we want to posses what does not belong to us" he says, voice hoarse and tone disturbing in many levels; his gaze directed at somewhere on Promto's face and Noctis can tell it's not precisely his eyes he's looking at.
Fast as it began, Ardyn backs off, returning to his previous standing position, muttering a cheerful "Just kidding!"
He smiles and it's disgusting.
His hands are in the air in a sign of peace but the damage is done. Prompto's skin has turned to an ashen green and if his expression is anything to go by, he's downright terrified. Gladio is burning holes through the man's chest and his knuckles are white where his hands are holding onto the armrests while Ignis is paralyzed, eyes narrowed, right hand near the place where he hides his daggers. And Noctis…
Noctis feels homicidal.
"You boys are too uptight. C'mon, relax a little!"
No one says anything. No one moves.
Ardyn's manic grin does not match with the challenging look he throws Noctis's way. His pupils jump minutely to the perturbed blond then back to him again and his face gains a meaner quality to it, more than it usually is.
It's very ominous.
Despite the anger and blood running hot in his veins, Noctis feels a chill make its snaky way down his spine.
Later, much later, when midnight is creeping up on them, the prince takes his best friend aside and tells him quietly-commands him-to share a bed with him. Let Ignis and Gladio have the double bed, he says. Prompto nods as if already understanding what Noctis is not brave enough to say out loud, and the young king prays with everything he has for that instant of rivalry that transpired between him and Ardyn to be a lie.