#39 With a Witch Prompto? Is that ok to ask for? I don’t really mind who does it!

ffxv-monstrosity:

“Your eyes. They’re beautiful.”

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The wooden crate in your arms creaked with every step you took down the corridor towards his room. He likes to call it his “office” despite other’s input which he chooses to ignore and carry on his thoughts.

The crate groaned in your arms as you slipped it down to your forearms as you bent down at placed it on the marble tiles. The flowers bobbed up and down and a few specks of dirt slipped past the cracks of the wooden boards.

You reached over and opened to door to reveal the usual messy room. Books were flipped over, pages scattered across the floor while both empty and full potion bottles rolled around in circles.

You watched as Prompto shuffled around his “office”, stepping over heaps of papers and books, dodging some of the ingredients that were still alive and hopping over potion bottles. He took shaky steps up the small wooden ladder that had been propped up against the large metal cauldron that stood in the middle of the room.

“You should really consider cleaning this room, Prompto,” you chuckled as a live pair of snapdragons snagged a hold of the flannel underlayer of his vest.

“Yeah I should,” he sighed as he swatted at the plants. “I’ll do it during the weekend.”

“You should also consider moving all of your live ingredients to that spare room you never use.”

“Oh yeah,” Prompto perked up. He smacked himself on the head. “I keep forgetting about that room! Thanks, babe!” he smiled at you.

“Anytime,” you smiled as you bent down.

Heaving the wooden crate up into your arms, you slowly walked into the room. The door closed behind you as soon as your presence had left. You moved towards a table that was near you. There were a few papers and books on it, but you figured you could move them.

Doing so without dropping the crate on the many filled potion bottles by your feet was a challenge. The wooden crate weighed your arms down like lead, but you couldn’t put the crate on the floor in fear of ripping a paper or destroying a bottle.

Prompto heard the struggle you were having over his attempts of trying to snip one snapdragon out from the planter and he dropped the clippers.

“Babe, I got it. You could’ve left it at the door!” he laughed as he hopped down from the ladder.

“I wanted to do this,” you struggled out as the wooden crate only weighed you down even more. Prompto cleared the table and helped you lift the heavy crate onto the thick wood. “Besides, that weird new intern lurks around here. I wanted to make sure that they didn’t steal these or ruin them or anything.”

Prompto knew the exact intern you were hinting at. It was the intern that absolutely hated his guts. The intern stole bottles from his floor, spooked the live ingredients, they even made the snapdragons more snappy.

“You’re amazing,” he purred as cupped your cheeks.

“Prompto,” you laughed.

“Oh! I forgot! I made you something!” he perked up.

He quickly left you and scrambled around his room, searching for whatever he made for you. He tossed books around, pushed bottles with his feet and quickly opened drawers and cabinet doors until he had stuck the whole upper half of his body into one very big drawer.

As he was digging through for whatever he made for you, you took the liberty to rub the soft petals of the snapdragons that were nipping your arm. They purred as your stroked their petals, they chattered to you while they brushed up against your hand and wrist.

“You just want attention,” you cooed at the flowers.

“Found it!” he chirped. He pulled himself out of the drawer. Held in his hand was a talisman. He moved closer to you, trying his best to “I made this for you as an early anniversary present, but I- WOAH!”

His feet slipped out from underneath him as he had slipped on a wet piece of parchment.

His back collided with the floor and the cabinets shook. One cabinet door came undone and a small leather pouch tumbled out and hit Prompto square in the nose. Purple dust flew in every direction before Prompto started to sneeze.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you tried to stifle your laughter.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he managed to say before he sneezed again. He slowly opened his eyes, and you gasped a bit. They were an electric purple, they glowed brightly even in the well-lit room. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re beautiful.”