#rasko's bthb

[whumperscorner]

Heyo! Am loving your bthb so far! Please could I ask for Prompto being used as bait for papa Cor?? Love your writing, it feels so intense!

Thank you! I’m glad you like it :3

Love this prompt, and it took me way too long to get done cause I started uni and stuff, but I hope you still enjoy it

BTHB #5- Used as Bait

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric (very, very briefly)

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 3563

Warnings: kidnapping, some descriptions of injury and blood

This can also be found on ao3

The first thing Prompto notices when he wakes up is that he's cold. He wonders for a little bit why his room is so cold, and why the bed is so uncomfortable, and then it all comes crashing back. He's not in his bed, not in his room. He's still in the dirty, clammy cellar room he was thrown into and fell asleep in. Prompto groans and sits up straight, wincing slightly at the throbbing pain in his temple. He lifts his hand carefully to check, and sure enough there's blood on it when he takes it back down. A gift from one of the captors, and an unpleasant reminder of yesterday's events. Or maybe yesterday. Prompto assumes it was yesterday but isn't entirely sure how long he's been sleeping or how long he's really been locked in the room- it must've been hours at the very least. A lump forms heavily in Prompto's throat at the thought. He wants to go home.

With considerable effort he swallows the lump back down and stands up. He takes to circling around the small room, partly to see if- against the odds- there could be some way to get out and partly to distract himself from the horrible pit in his stomach. As expected, there isn’t anything useful. The only windows are too high on the wall to reach and boarded shut, so that’s no help, and any tools one would normally expect to find in a basement must have been removed beforehand because Prompto can’t find any at all. He’s about to move over to the hatch in the roof, seemingly the only way in and out, when his wandering is interrupted by sudden noise from the other side. Someone fumbles for a moment with the lock, and then the hatch creaks as it’s lifted up and a heavy pair of boots appear.

Prompto stops dead in his tracks. Then, when the man is so far down the staircase that his face is visible, Prompto recognises him as one of the ones who grabbed him yesterday and something swirling and uncomfortable rises in him. Their eyes meet, and Prompto takes a subconscious step back.

"Come here." The man’s voice rings through the small room. A twinge of irritation is already present in it at Prompto’s retreat, but Prompto doesn't move to comply with his order for another few seconds. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near the man if he can avoid it, but a dangerous twitch near the man’s eyes makes it clear refusal isn’t really an option. Prompto takes some reluctant steps forward, feeling like he’s walking towards the gallows. When only a few feet separate the two of them, the man reaches forward and yanks Prompto closer with a vice like grip around his arm. He begins walking back up the stairs almost immediately, giving Prompto no time to recover his balance before being dragged along. They reach the top of the staircase and Prompto is almost certain the grip on his arm will leave some nasty bruises as the man drags him through a hallway and into a different room.

In this new room, plenty more faces greet them. There's a group of five men lounging around the room on various couches and chairs with the man who seems to be the one in charge sitting near the centre of the room. All eyes go to Prompto when he's shoved forward into the room, and it makes the skin on his back crawl. He recognises a few of the men from yesterday, but some are completely new to him. What strikes him though is that all of the men, even the ones he has never met before, are eyeing him with weird knowing looks and smiles. It rubs him entirely the wrong way. Prompto doesn't realise he has stopped at first, not until a harsh shove from the man behind sends him stumbling forward. He braces himself, but still lands hard on his knees on the floor.

Behind him, the man who had shoved him says in a loud mocking voice. "If you're good now we might even let you see your daddy during the meet-up."

Prompto's eyes widen slightly, and his heart jumps in his chest. Cor was coming? Then he feels a bit dumb for wondering, of course Cor was coming for him. However, he doesn't quite get to feel relieved at that before the room explodes in snickers and laughs at the remark. It's like they're laughing at a joke he's not in on yet or laughing at his expense. At Cor's expense. Prompto's eyes dart around the room until the man closest to him, having seen his questioning expression, leans in to talk. Almost immediately Prompto's previous assumption that this is the man in charge is reinforced. At his movement, the others go quiet and look to him expectantly.

"Yes boy, we are going to go see The Marshal soon," He begins, drawing out every word carefully, "or rather he is coming to us." At this last part his eyes glint with something Prompto can't quite put his finger on and his stomach churns.

"And I, for one, have waited for a long time to see him again." Someone else chimes in from the side. Prompto recognises him especially as the one behind the gift staining his hair and the side of his head red. There’s something crude in the man’s wide smile, and he cracks his knuckles as if to further drive in his statement. Prompto’s mind races, and the sudden worry must be apparent on his face because the men suddenly chuckle again.

"He could take you on easily-" Prompto blurts out so fast he nearly trips over his own words before cutting himself off. It’s partly in an attempt to reassure himself that his dad will be fine, and partly an attempt to disprove those shit-eating grins the men all have on while talking about Cor. Prompto didn't think before saying it, and now the air in the room is changing drastically.

"Maybe so, under normal circumstances." says the leader nonchalantly, to spread mumbling from the men sitting around him. His mouth spreads into a mocking smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and then he lunges out. Prompto flinches but has nowhere to go as the man grips his face and drags him to his feet with him. "but we've found a pressure point of his."

Prompto's breath hitches, and his heart beats hard in his chest. The man is taller than he had expected, digging his fingers painfully into Prompto's face and forcing him to stand on his tip toes. The man keeps talking, quieter now, and his face is so close that his breath brushes against Prompto's face. "If he wants to ensure your safety, he won't resist too much." Prompto's eyes widen at this. He doesn't want to be the reason his dad could get hurt, but it hits him hard now that if anything happens to Cor it will be because of him. His fault. He lets out a breathless 'no', to which the man laughs. "Oh yes, and you are making this so much easier for us."

The man is then distracted by someone else approaching from the side and telling him something quietly. The two of them have a whispered conversation that Prompto can't make out more than a few words of. His mind is reeling, and he can't seem to focus on what's going on around him. The man's pseudo praise settles heavily and uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. Then he's ripped away from his tumultuous thoughts and gasps loudly when he feels himself being shoved back and the hand gripping his face disappears. He stumbles backwards, struggling for a moment before regaining his balance.

"Let's go then." The man says, no longer directing his words at Prompto. He shoots him only a mocking smile before gesturing to the men around. "Load him up."

On cue and before Prompto has any time to react, strong arms grab hold of him from behind, keeping him still as three of the other men in the room close in around him. The leader hangs back, watching and waiting. Cold dread rises in Prompto’s chest as his eyes dart around the closing circle. The closest approaching man reaches out towards him, and in a split-second decision Prompto jerks back. His arms tense up as he rips away from the one holding him. There's no real plan to his resistance and Prompto knows well that he has no realistic way to escape on his own, but he can't let himself be taken along quietly now. Used to lure his dad into an obvious trap set for him, he doesn't want it. So despite there not really being anywhere for him to go, Prompto backs away as fast as he can. Adrenaline and fear rushes in his ears so he can't quite concentrate on the commotion now breaking out in the room. Multiple of the other men in the room have rushed to grab him and are talking over each other.

Prompto feels himself being shoved and dragged by many more unwelcome hands, but his own struggling is intensifying too. He kicks and pushes away desperate not to let anyone get the upper hand on him, but it doesn't take long before he's overpowered and unceremoniously brought down. He hits the floor so hard it takes his breath away, and immediately strong arms pin him down. Prompto doesn't even know which of the men is holding him until he looks up again and is met with the face of the man from earlier, the same one who had brought him into the room, now twisted in anger. Still running on fear-fuelled energy, Prompto squirms and struggles in the hold. Somehow, he manages to twist himself over on the side, unbalancing the man and giving himself some leeway. He has only just started crawling away when he hears a loud curse from behind and feels a fistful of his hear gripped painfully tight.

"Shouldn't have done that." says the man. Then he pushes down with terrifying strength, slamming Prompto's head into the hard floor. Prompto's eyes water and he hears himself cry out in shock and pain. Something warm gushes from his nose and down his face, dripping and staining the floor red.

"Someone tie him!" another voice says, and Prompto doesn't recognise it. Too dazed to fight it, Prompto only winces as his wrists are brought together behind his back and something tightens around them. Then he's being moved, hauled back onto his feet, and held up by strong grips on his upper arms. Without them Prompto thinks he would have fallen. Again, there is speaking around him, and someone enters his blurry field of vision with some kind of object in their hand. He's not sure what it is at first, not until the person is close enough to grab his jaw tightly and the previously undefinable object is brought closer.

"Nn- no-" he tries to protest when the gag is forced in his mouth, but it comes out as more of a soft whimper than anything else. The cloth is rough and unpleasant in Prompto's mouth and he tries to spit it back out, unsuccessfully. At a sudden new gesture from the leader, still standing back and enjoying the show, they're on their way. Prompto stumbles along, and on their way the two lock eyes. Through the haze and tears Prompto can see that he's smiling.

The way out of the building is a fogged and confusing affair for Prompto after that. It's almost like he's a passenger in his own body, feeling himself being dragged along and hearing the men talk among themselves as if it's far away. His head hurts, and he's vaguely aware there's still blood running from his nose. The sudden change in temperature when they step outside catches Prompto off guard, it's cold and dark and he shudders involuntarily, but it does help clear his head just a little bit. The area they're in is seemingly deserted and in the dark Prompto doesn't recognise it. It might not be too far away from the safety and familiarity of the city, he muses in a half-hearted attempt at making himself feel better, but deep down he knows he's not that lucky. Then he's pushed along, and when he straightens his head and looks forward again, he finds something he definitely doesrecognise. Though he's not sure if that makes it any better.

The dark cars with black tinted windows are exactly the ones he was brought here in, and those aren't exactly pleasant memories. Prompto’s breath hitches through the bloodied gag. He knows what’s coming and braces himself to be stuffed into the, regrettably very familiar, trunk of the closest car. The men are anything but kind and gentle with their handling, and Prompto thinks he’s sure to have gotten a number of new bruises by the time he’s been situated in the trunk. The door slams shut, causing him to wince, and Prompto is left in the cramped darkness.

For a moment all Prompto hears is his own laboured breathing, then the engine starts, and a steady rumbling fills the trunk instead. They're on their way now and Prompto is so tired. He wants Cor, wants his dad. He can almost trick himself into being happy that wherever they're going now Cor will also be, but with that thought comes the fear and the guilt again. He had been momentarily spared from these feelings earlier, distracted from them by the altercation and the bleeding nose. But now there isn’t anything left to distract him, and though everything above his shoulders still throbs painfully, the worries return with full force. The car passes a particularly bumpy part of the road- or maybe they’re off-road even- and Prompto groans. His shoulders aren’t enjoying the strained position they’re in and scream out in protest at every bump and sharp turn. If he can change his position just a little bit, Prompto thinks, he might be able to relieve the pressure a bit. Okay no, bad idea he finds soon enough. The less stable position combined with the rough ground proves disastrous as Prompto’s head for the second time that evening slams into the hard surface beneath him. His eyes go wide as the throbbing pain intensifies and he bites down hard on the cloth in his mouth.

At some point Prompto might have passed out because he can’t remember most of the drive. He doesn’t even fully realise the car has stopped, not until someone on the outside bangs their fist against the trunk hard. Prompto flinches at the noise and makes a choked terrified sound. He half expects the trunk’s door to be opened and for rough hands to drag him out of the car. So he braces for it, but that’s not what happens.

"You’ve been so helpful Prompto," sounds the familiar voice of the group’s leader. "now be a good boy and wait here ‘till we’ve dealt with dear daddy."

The taunting tone is impossible to miss, and Prompto can just imagine the sneering grin on the man’s face. There’s muffled laughing from the other men also apparently outside and then the voices gradually get more and more faint, and Prompto is left to his lonesome. He’s in disbelief. They’re not even letting him see his dad? Then the panic sets in, it surges in his chest and grips around his heart tightly. Cor is coming for him. He’s going to come trying to find Prompto, and Prompto won’t even be there.

He has to get out. He has to. The trunk seems smaller all of a sudden, the darkness pressing in on him from every direction. And the gag isn’t helping Prompto’s already rapid breathing either. He thinks he can hear voices again, but they’re too faint for him to make out who it is or what they’re saying. Then a bark of a laugh that he most definitely does recognise rings out, and Prompto’s mind immediately goes to the worst possible scenario. A small, terrified squeal slips out of him. Despite the aches of his body Prompto squirms and struggles against the restraints. They might be zip ties, he thinks hazily through the panic, but he’s not entirely sure. Cor taught him a trick for getting out of zip ties once and Prompto desperately tries it, but either he doesn’t remember it correctly or there isn’t enough room to do it in the trunk. Regardless, the ties only dig deeper into the skin at his wrists when he struggles against them.

A gunshot rings out through the night. The sound catches Prompto off guard and he flinches, momentarily stopping his struggling. Then there are more gunshots, and faint yelling. The sounds of a fight, he realises. Prompto isn’t sure how long it keeps going, but he listens in captivated horror. In his head are gruesome visions of what could be going on right this moment. Prompto is still listening, breath coming in ragged gasps through the gag when a different set of sounds stand out from the rest. Are they- footsteps? Yes, multiple pairs of footsteps and hushed whispering. His heart makes a jump in his chest. He’s convinced it’s the men from before coming back, but then he hears a different voice, one he knows well, and his eyes widen.

Prompto tries to yell through the gag, though he’s not sure how well that can be heard, and he kicks against the sides of the trunk. He has to let them know where he is, has to warn them. The familiar voice is back, closer now.

"Shit- Cor here!"

And Prompto thinks he could cry, or maybe he already is. To be honest he’s not sure whether what’s running down his face is blood or tears or both anymore. There’s swearing from outside, and some fumbling with the trunk’s door before it finally cracks open.

Prompto recognises his dad instantly, even from the dark silhouette alone. He yells again through the gag, and strains to get closer to his dad. Cor on his end lets out a soft curse at the sight of his son, and he wastes no time leaning in and gently pulling him closer. Cor helps him sit up in the trunk, and it makes Prompto’s head spin. Then the gag is removed and Prompto heaves, the metallic taste of blood still in his mouth.

"Dad you have to leave-" Prompto hasn’t even gotten his breath back properly before he starts talking, but he has to tell Cor. His dad’s brows furrow.

"Prompto, wha-"

"Please- they’re going to- it’s a trap- I-" Prompto can’t breathe. Tears pool in his eyes. His dad swims in and out of focus, but he keeps a secure grip on Prompto’s shoulders.

"No- Prompto it’s-"

"Please Dad- please-"

Cor pulls him into a tight hug, and Prompto’s breath hitches. The words seem to be stuck in his throat now. He’s shaking, but the hug feels so nice. It’s warm and safe. A sob bubbles up Prompto’s throat, and when he speaks it’s barely more than a whisper.

"I’m so sorry-"

"Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay." Cor cuts him off. His voice is soft and gentle in a way Prompto has rarely heard before. He buries his face into Cor’s chest, ignoring the pain it causes and the blood stains he’s sure to be leaving on his dad’s clothes. "Don’t worry about those guys, we got them. Okay, don’t worry." There’s something strained to Cor’s voice when he mentions the men, but otherwise he keeps his voice low and reassuring, and Prompto nods quietly in response.

"Nyx, we need those off." Is what his dad says next, gesturing with his head towards the zip ties on Prompto’s wrists. Cor would do it himself, but his own hands are busy rubbing soft circles on Prompto’s back. And Nyx doesn’t need to be asked twice, he’s already working on removing the ties. As soon as they snap off Prompto lets out a relieved sigh. His arms feel so heavy now, but he brings them up to grab a secure hold of Cor’s jacket. Even when Cor carefully loosens the hug and retreats to get a better look at Prompto’s various injuries, Prompto doesn’t let go of his jacket. He finds he can’t. Because his dad is there and he’s okay, and Prompto is so tired now. Feeling the jacket’s fabric in his hands grounds him.

Cor’s expression darkens upon taking in the bruising on Prompto’s arms and the blood on his face. It makes Prompto feel abashed all of a sudden, and he’s made acutely aware of how much trouble this whole thing must have caused.

"I’m sorry." Prompto mumbles again. To which Cor shakes his head.

"You’re okay." He says, shaking Prompto’s shoulders ever so slightly as if to really get through to him. "We’re going to get you checked out, and then we’re going home. You’re okay." His eyes are so intently staring at Prompto’s and his voice is so genuine and soft. Finally, Prompto believes him when he says it, and the last bit of tension in his body ebbs out.

[whumpwriterforlife]

Bad Things Happen Bingo

So I finally decided to post my card....after it's been sitting in my submission for almost two years. Go me? Go me!

Feel free to suggest and request a specific prompt and I shall do my best to provide. At this moment I mostly whump my OCs or Final Fantasy XV characters (Nyx Ulric & Prompto Argentum) but I'm also down to try other characters and fandoms (such as MacGyver or Devil May Cry, although I'm most likely very rusty those) if requested.

[whumperscorner]

"Chained to bed" for the bthb please

Here you go anon! Enjoy this lil one-shot in which Prompto has a bad time!

BTHB#3- Chained to Bed

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 3260

Warnings: Stalker, Intimate whumper, creepy touching (though nothing sexual or nsfw)

Prompto groans and stirs awake. His room is still pretty dark, so it must still be night, and sure enough when Prompto reaches over to his nightstand and checks his phone it lights up with the time, 03:24. Slightly confused about what woke him up in the first place, Prompto switches the phone off and turns over to go back to sleep. He's meeting up with Noct and Gladio tomorrow for some training and should probably get all the sleep he can to really blow them away with his awesome moves. By habit he lets his eyes scan briefly over the room before laying down, and then his heart jumps. He thought he'd seen something. A shadow by the door. That's weird, Prompto thinks, he's kind of jumpy sometimes sure, but that's usually not when he's home. He knows the layout and shadows of his room well enough not to be scared, even when he's home alone like now, with Cor away on a days-long mission. That's why it takes him a second to notice why exactly his brain had lit up with warnings like that. That shadow was not one of the old well-known ones, it wasn't supposed to be there.

The realization sends eerie shivers up his spine and he bolts upright in the bed again to double check, expecting to find maybe a jacket or hoodie hanging weirdly and making the shadow. Then he freezes. That's not what he sees. What Prompto sees is the unmistakeable silhouette of a tall, broad shouldered man, now standing in the middle of his room facing him. Prompto's eyes widen, and he thinks he should scream, he wants to scream, but he doesn't. Instead, he sucks in a sharp breath, and freezes. Fear grips his chest tight. The kind of paralyzing fear that makes him feel like even breathing too suddenly will break the fragile standstill in the room and allow something terrifying to happen.

Prompto doesn't know how long the two of them stay like that. Tension rises and hangs heavy in the air between them until it's almost unbearable. Then the man takes a few steps forward, slow and calm in his movements, and the spell is seemingly broken. Prompto can move again. The breath he'd been holding in comes out in the form of a choked gasp, and without thinking he scrambles off of the bed. He needs to get away from this man. So it's purely on instinct and fear-fuelled adrenaline that he then moves forward, ducking around the man and making a dash towards the hallway. Prompto is nearly by the door when the man catches up with him and tackles him hard to the floor. The impact knocks the wind out of him. Strong arms twist him around, so he lays on his back looking directly up at the face leering over him. There's something weirdly familiar about it, but Prompto can't put his finger on exactly what and there's no time to wonder about it now. A wordless scuffle ensues on the floor. Prompto flails and pushes against the man, hoping to regain some semblance of control over the situation. The man is muttering to himself through it all, and his face twists angrily the more Prompto squirms. Coming to a head when he in a stroke of good luck manages to connect a hit to the man's chin.

The man looks taken back for one short moment, then he gathers himself and lashes out with an enraged snarl. Grabbing the front of Prompto's t-shirt and hoisting him up from the floor, then slamming him back down. The back of Prompto's head hits the floor and he cries out as stars explode in front of his eyes. Using the time as Prompto struggles to recover from the blow to his advantage, the man yanks him up from the floor and walks him back to the bed. Prompto is dropped down, and just barely manages to brace himself against the covers before the man is on him again and something cold snaps around his right wrist. He jerks the hand back on instinct, but the man holds it tight, and he gets nowhere. The handcuffs glint in the dim light from the window in his room, and a new wave of panic washes over Prompto when the man snaps them shut around the far-right bedpost. He strains against the cuffs, using his left hand to try to push against the man when he leans over him again. "Nono, WAIT-" he begins, but the man clamps a big hand over his mouth, silencing him.

"I didn't want to do this. I wasn't going to hurt you. But you keep struggling." He mumbles. Whether it's more to himself or more to Prompto is unclear, but he leans in closer and keeps going. "The Marshal is finally gone, and I have you all to myself and you keep fighting it. Don't! Don't ruin this." Prompto closes his eyes tight, wincing in pain when the man tightens the grip over his mouth. His body is tense, and every inch of his being wants him to fight back, to grab the arm covering his mouth and get it away. But there's no telling what the man would do then, and with his right hand restrained Prompto doesn't want to risk being lashed out at again. In a position where he can't properly defend himself. "You'll stay quiet now, won't you love?" The man's voice is calmer now, but no less intense or pressing and Prompto shivers. He does not like this new pet name. "You won't cause problems anymore, and I won't have to hurt you. Cause I don't want that, and I know you don't want that either." He lets his thumb slide gently over Prompto's freckled cheek, and an involuntary whimper escapes into the hand. "I'll take my hand away if you promise to behave, love. Can you do that?"

For a second Prompto weighs his options, albeit there not being a whole lot of them in this situation, and then he nods. He's hoping that by playing along he can placate the man long enough for some other solution to eventually reveal itself. In any case something has to happen in the morning, he reasons with himself in an attempt to calm down, if he doesn't show then Noct and Gladio have to notice something's up. Upon his agreeing, the man flashes a wide smile that stands in stark contrast to the chilling horror Prompto is feeling. The hand covering his mouth is pulled back, and the tension in his body eases slightly, though it rockets back up again when the man then grabs a firm hold of his free left hand. The man's eyes hold Prompto's in a cold stare, warning him against resisting as he lifts the hand and places a soft kiss on it. Warm breath against his skin is enough to send shivers up Prompto's spine, and his breath hitches uncomfortably. Seemingly pleased with this, the man hums as he pulls out a second pair of handcuffs and snaps one part around Prompto's left wrist. Prompto's breathing picks up pace at the sight and the feeling of the cold metal, he only has time to vaguely wonder through the fear where the man has gotten these cuffs before they are snapped shut around the far-left bedpost. Now forcibly sprawled out on the bed, Prompto feels more open and vulnerable than ever before.

"Good boy." The man says, extending his hand towards Prompto and pushing a few strands of blond hair carefully to the side and out of his face. He's smiling, but Prompto wishes intently that he could be anywhere other than here. The man is still running his hand through Prompto's hair, and his touch makes Prompto's skin crawl. His eyes intently scan Prompto's face, like an artist admiring his work, and then he fishes out an old, worn phone from his pocket. Prompto wonders at first what he's planning to do with that, but not for long, as the sudden flash of a photo being taken makes him wince and shut his eyes. When he opens them back up again and they readjust to the dark he sees the man standing a few steps back, looking at his phone, presumably the picture just taken. "This one might be my favourite." he mutters, and the words make Prompto's stomach churn.

Against his better judgement Prompto opens his mouth to ask about it, but finds it and his throat too dry for any sound to come out and swallows hard before trying again. He just has to know, needs to find out why this man is doing what he's doing. "I- I think I've seen you before?" He poses it like a question, and his voice is shaky. Prompto wishes it wasn't, wishes that he could at least feign confidence despite how astronomically not okay the situation is. The man laughs in response.

"Oh, you have? Happy to hear it love, but you probably haven't seen me nearly as much as I've seen you." There's that pet name again, and Prompto squirms uncomfortably. The word stalker lights up in bright letters in his brain, but he's not going to be saying that out loud.

"But-" Prompto tries, voice meek enough to barely be more than a whisper, so he tries again. "Why all this then? Why not just approach?" he asks. To which the man's expression drops. He approaches and sits down on the bed next to Prompto. The mattress shifts and creaks from his weight.

"They wouldn't let me if I tried, so I watched from afar." He says nonchalantly, but there's something cold in his eyes now that wasn't there before. It scares Prompto, this change in demeanor. He seems somehow angrier now that he leans in closer to Prompto, again bringing his hands up to play with his hair. Prompto squirms under the touch, wishing the cuffs would allow even just a little more leeway to get away from the man. "Someone like me would never be let close to the Prince, and since you're always with him- ah, that reminds me actually." The man interrupts himself and sits back up. First and foremost, Prompto is relieved not to have his hands on him anymore, and then his brain starts chewing on what was just said. Someone like him, does he have a record then maybe? Prompto knows there are strict rules for who are and who aren't allowed near Noct, and known offenders are definitely not. Then he's distracted from his thoughts by what exactly the man is doing now that his focus isn't on Prompto. He has a phone in hand, and with a slight jolt of surprise Prompto realizes that it is his own, having been taken from the nightstand.

"Can't have your charming friends interrupting tomorrow when you don't show up for training, can we love?" He unlocks the phone and Prompto's heart sinks. How did the man know the code for his phone? But there isn't really any time to worry about it, as the man types something quick on his phone, and then turns to face Prompto. "You have now told both the Prince and his Shield not to worry that you're not coming tomorrow, as you regrettably have to leave for a bit to do an errand for the Marshal before he returns." Prompto's heart sinks further, if that is even possible. The sudden show of just how much of Prompto's life the man knows about leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but that isn't the worst part. This whole time Prompto has been counting on Noctis and Gladio to check up on him tomorrow and figure out that something's wrong, without that there is nothing he can think of that could help him.

"No!" Prompto exclaims, slightly louder than he had intended to. It just burst out of him, and he's already regretting it, with the way the man's brows are now furrowing angrily. His face twists and he surges forward. Prompto gasps, straining the cuffs in an instinctual attempt to brace himself.

"Didn't I say not to yell?" The man hisses, his right hand curls around Prompto's throat threateningly. "Why are you protesting now? This if for you, love. For us." Prompto whimpers and attempts to shake his head, but the man tightens the grip and he gasps, eyes going wide with fear. "I won't kill you, love," the man says, and he lets up the pressure, though he doesn't remove the hand. "But if someone hears you and comes running, I can't promise the same for them. They can't get in our way. And you don't want that do you?" Prompto whimpers out a tiny 'no' and the man nods intently. He opens his mouth to say something more, but a sound from downstairs catches both his and Prompto's attention. It's the sound of the front door being opened and then closed again as someone enters the house.

In the next few seconds, Prompto's mind races. Cor isn't supposed to be home for another few days. Could it be a neighbour? No, they wouldn't just let themselves in, they'd ring the doorbell first. Is it possible he could have gotten lucky, and his dad really is home early? Regardless of how small the chance of that actually is, Prompto has to try.

"Dad!" He yells, it's a weird, choked sound that comes out and he hopes to the gods that Cor really is there to respond to it. The man over him curses under his breath and slams his free hand over Prompto's mouth.

"Prom? You up?" It's Cor's voice from downstairs, Prompto has never before been so happy to hear his dad's voice. The man curses again, and Prompto's newfound relief from hearing Cor's voice is lessened somewhat. The hand still around his throat tightens, and then tightens further, so Prompto's vision blurs and he arches his back desperate to get some air.

"Shouldn't have done that, love." The man says, in a low and breathy voice. He removes the hand covering Prompto's mouth, but before Prompto can regain his breath enough to yell again, something soft is roughly stuffed into his mouth. It's something made of leather, Prompto finds, and it tastes really bad. Gloves maybe? He doesn't know. "It wasn't supposed to come to this, but I promise you," the man presses on. "I will get rid of Cor the fucking Immortal if I have to." Then he stands up, finally releasing the grip around Prompto's throat, and begins rummaging for something one the floor just out of Prompto's line of sight. Downstairs, Cor yells for Prompto again, confusion and worry laced in his voice and the man gets up. He walks towards the door, and light from the window glints in a blade in the man's hand.

Prompto's eyes widen and he yells, but it's muffled by the gag. He has to warn Cor in some way. Prompto knows his dad is a good fighter, one of the very best in fact, but worry still clenches his chest hard. What if the man catches him off guard and he ends up hurt? He can hear yelling form downstairs now, both the stalker's enraged voice and Cor's own. Something breaks, and the sounds of the fight continue, getting more and more distant as the two presumably move to a different room. Wanting nothing more than to go check on his dad, Prompto struggles against the handcuffs. He twists and squirms and strains until his wrists are rubbed raw, but gets nowhere. Then he stops. It's gotten quiet downstairs. No sounds of a fight, nothing. He yells again for Cor, not caring about the gag muffling his yells, Cor has to hear them. Then the staircase starts creaking as someone walks up to the second floor, and Prompto's heart beats faster. He can already envision the man from before coming up the stairs, having done something horrible to Cor and coming to take him away. Tears are prickling in his eyes, and when a silhouetted man finally enters his field of vision, he chokes out a terrified sob.

"Prompto!"

It's Cor. It's his dad running through the hall towards him, yelling his name, and relief floods through him. The first few tears start to fall just as Cor reaches the bed and kneels down next to it. The gag goes first, Cor removes it carefully and tosses it on the floor while Prompto coughs involuntarily in the absence of it. "Are you hurt?" Is the first question he has, eyes scanning over Prompto intently, searching for any pressingly dangerous injuries. Prompto shakes his head. He doesn't try to speak, knowing he would probably just cry. Cor's brows furrow worriedly, but he moves on to the handcuffs without further questions. The one around Prompto's right wrist first, and he curses under his breath at how the metal has rubbed his son's skin raw, and at certain places drawn blood. He makes swift work of the first pair of cuffs, and moves on to the ones chaining Prompto's left wrist.

When both his hands are properly released Prompto moves to sit upright on the bed, and winces when the movement jostles sore joints and muscles. Cor is quick to help, placing a secure hand on his shoulder and supporting him as he sits up. And suddenly it's all too much for Prompto, it's like a breath of tension leaving his body and everything comes crashing down. Cor seems to have seen it coming just ahead of time and drags Prompto against his chest for a tight hug as the rest of the tears run unhindered down freckled cheeks. "Shh, shh, you're okay kid. You're okay now." Cor whispers in a soft tone of voice uncharacteristic of the man, rubbing soothing circles on Prompto's back.

Gradually, the trembling stops and the tears slow down. Prompto's breath hitches as he looks back up at Cor. His expression, previously one of worry and tension, has softened considerably as well. Cor poses the idea of going to the bathroom for something to treat his wrists with, and Prompto agrees, sniffling and drying the remaining tears on the way through the hallway. Seated on the toilet as Cor finds a potion to use, Prom asks about the man. His throat is stuffy and tight from crying, so it takes him a few tries to get the words properly out. Cor smiles bitterly, breaking the potion over Prompto's extended hands, and tells him he doesn't need to worry about it.

"He's out cold downstairs, I've called Monica to come get him and lock him up. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow." He explains, and Prompto nods, it sounds like a reasonable plan. However, when the doorbell rings, signalling Monica's arrival, Prompto hesitates. He doesn't want to go downstairs. Doesn't want to have to see the man any more times than necessary. Cor gets it, Prompto doesn't even need to say anything, his dad just gets it. Prompto waits upstairs until the man has been taken away, and knowing he's out of the house helps, admittedly not a lot, but it helps. Then Cor yawns, and suggests for them to go to bed, but truth be told Prompto isn't exactly keen on going back to his room tonight. Cor gets that too, and they both end up sleeping on the couch in the living room.

[whumperscorner]

Hiii ! Hope you're doing well ! May I get uhhhhhh "this is for your own good" for the bthb please ?

Am doing very well thank you, hope you’re doing well too! You may indeed :3 so here we go with some drugging, betrayal ish and emotional whump with my oc babies

BTHB #1- This is for your own good

"B can I come in?" comes Grav's voice through the door to the room B has barricaded himself in, accompanied by a couple knocks. He considers ignoring it at first, as he’s not particularly interested in a repeat of the screaming match from before. But he decides against it, yells back a resigned 'yeah' and puts his phone down to look up as Grav enters. "I brought fruit." he offers, not fully meeting B's eyes. B recognises the awkward attempt at an olive branch though and gets up, accepting both the plate of carefully cut fruit pieces and the glass of lemonade from Grav with a nod. He places them both on the coffee table and plops down on the couch again, pulling one knee up to his chest and waiting not too excitedly for Grav to say what he knows he came to say.

"Look-" he begins, but B doesn’t let him finish.

"I’m not going." he states in a sudden snap that surprises even himself, but he decides to roll with it and looks up at Grav as confidently as he possibly can. There’s a barely noticeable shift in the man’s face as his jaw tightens slightly. "I don’t want to leave." B continues.

"I know," comes the gruff answer "but the situation-" he hesitates for a moment, considering just how much about the situation he should let B in on. "There’s some business to attend to, and you’ve gotta stay away until it’s done."

B scoffs at the word ‘business’, not legitimate business in any case. He knows that much, even though nobody will tell him exactly what the business itself entails. What he doesn’t understand though, is why he has to leave.

"Can’t I stay here?" B tries, though he suspects the answer won’t have changed a lot from their earlier conversation.

"N-"

"I promise I’ll stay out of your way." he adds quickly. "I won’t bother you." Grav’s brows furrow at this, and B is quick to look away, already regretting those words. He takes a big sip of the lemonade and fumbles a bit with the glass. It isn’t very good lemonade, but at the moment he’s grateful for any excuse not to meet Grav’s eyes directly.

"B, that’s not what this is about." he says, continuing quickly and loudly when B’s mouth opens again. "It’s about you staying safe."

"What place would be safer than here?" B presses on, not noticing his own voice has also risen a few octaves. He thinks to himself that whatever situation is brewing, surely there wouldn’t be a problem if he just stayed at the mansion? And even with whatever danger this is about, that would at least be better than being isolated and alone somewhere else.

"The city. Isn’t. Safe." Grav insists through gritted teeth.

"But-"

"You’re not staying here and that is not up for debate!" Grav snaps, voice louder and more aggressive than before. The sudden outburst catches B off guard. He quickly looks off to the side and shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "B-" Grav begins, but stops himself, sighs heavily and sits down in a chair opposite the couch. Still firmly looking away, B takes a few more sips of the lemonade, ignoring the unpleasant aftertaste in favour of attempting to push down the lumps forming in his throat and in the pit of his stomach. He's tired now and can feel a headache coming in. The edges of his vision are blurring slightly, but he doesn't want to stop and leave the issue at this. He can't leave. The thought alone makes his stomach churn, or maybe that's something else causing the slightly nauseating feeling? He's not quite sure. B hesitates for another short moment, quickly downing the remaining lemonade and putting the empty glass down on the table, before speaking up again.

"I want to stay here Grav." His voice is soft and tired. "I'm not going."

"It's not up to you, the decision has already been made." Grav rubs the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Don't make things more difficult than they need to be."

At this, some hot undefinable feeling of hurt swells up in B's chest and before he knows it he's jumping to his feet. "It wouldn't have to be so difficult if you'd just-” and he stops. He lets out a gasp of equal parts surprise and worry as the room spins around him and blurred spots dance in front of his eyes. Faltering slightly B reaches out for something to support himself on, knocking the empty glass over so it clatters on the table and hits the plate of fruit in the process, and realisation dawns. Grav, who must have stood up and come over without B noticing, places a big hand on his shoulder to steady him where he stands. B swirls around, stares at Grav with wide eyes and jerks away from him.

"B-"

"You put something in it." B interrupts, shaking his head ever so slightly in disbelief. His chest and throat feel constricting all of a sudden, and his breathing picks up pace. Grav floats in and out of focus as he approaches B, who is carefully backing away. He stumbles again, and Grav is quick to reach out and grab him before he can fall. B mumbles a quiet ‘No’ as Grav carefully sits him down on the floor.

"It’s okay." Grav reassures. Even as B pushes against him and attempts to pull his hands back, Grav holds on and keeps him still on the floor. In his fogged mind B wonders if anything has ever been less okay. "In a few minutes the effects will kick in properly and you’ll fall asleep, nothing else. Just sleeping. You’re okay." Grav continues, rough voice low and calm. But the intended comfort doesn’t help B, who just keeps shaking his head as the man talks.

"I don’t want to Grav. I don’t want to." He insists, near desperately hoping against the odds that Grav will somehow change his mind now.

"It’s for your own good." Grav says solemnly, carefully maneuvering B to lay down on the floor. B is still weakly shaking his head in protest, but when he tries to push against Grav and get the man away his arms won’t move properly. They feel so heavy now, so instead B settles for gripping Grav’s shirt tightly. It’s the only thing left somewhat anchoring him to reality as he sinks further and further down into the haze of sleep enveloping around him.

"Don’t send me away, don’t." He pleads, words slurring together. If Grav answered this B at least didn’t hear it. The last coherent thought he has is the gut-wrenching realisation that when he wakes up again he’ll be alone.

[whumperscorner]

Got my bingo card! Might just do some of this on my own, but feel free to suggest or request stuff and we’ll just see what happens :3

I write with my OCs and a bit of ffxv stuff (where it's mostly Prompto whump)

[whumperscorner]

Hello! I've just discovered your whumpy FFXV fanfics and oh my gosh I absolutely adore your writing and ideas! I love a whumpy Prompto story! I've looked over the whump bingo and I think Prompto and "Strapped to a bomb" would be a really interesting/whumpy story! Of course please don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to and I'm so sorry if this comes across as rude. I hope you have a lovely day!

Ah thank you anon! Don’t worry it definitely doesn’t come off as rude :3 I’m really happy you’ve enjoyed my writing!

Decided to try someone kinda new with this, going with Cor’s pov for the first time, so hopefully that will still be somewhat enjoyable eheh

BTHB #6- Strapped to a Bomb

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric (a little bit)

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 2568

Warnings: none

This work can also be found on ao3 :3

Cor lets his eyes finish skimming through the document in his hand. Then he throws it onto his desk along with all the other documents he’s read through and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s been a very long, very uneventful day. Glancing at his watch, Cor is relieved to find there’s now only a little over an hour until he can leave. Though of course then he has to make his way through the traffic of the streets surrounding the Citadel, which is always a nightmare at this time of day. Now with the furrow between his brows made even deeper than usual, Cor returns to the paperwork. He’s moving on to what he thinks should be the last document in the pile when heavy breathing and rushed footsteps sound through the otherwise empty corridor.

"Marshal-"

"What." Cor's voice is tinged with irritation. This better be damn important for someone to barge in right at the tail end of his workday.

"You’ve been summoned at the entrance," says the breathless recruit. "it’s something about your son."

It doesn’t even take a full second for Cor to react and be up on his feet. He grabs his jacket and phone and hurries out of the office along with the recruit. Not that it’s out of the ordinary for Prompto to come to the Citadel, whether it’s Cor he’s coming to see or Prince Noctis whenever he’s around. Normally he would just let himself in though, and that along with the frantic look on the recruit’s face - no, something has to be wrong.

"What’s the situation?" Cor asks, not bothering to look back and just assuming the recruit is following him as he strides down the hall.

"I don’t know, I was just told to get a hold of you quickly." Comes the answer from behind. Cor almost has time to get annoyed at the lack of information, but the recruit keeps going. "Glaive Ulric and Glaive Altius are there already, and when I left they'd started working to evacuate employees outside of the Glaive."

Cor curses under his breath. Evacuation of the other employees? He trusts Nyx and Crowe enough to make that call, but since they have it has to be something serious. Cor enters the elevator and taps his foot impatiently on the floor, infuriated by how slow the descent is seemingly going. His mind races through all the different possibilities for what could be going on, and how Prompto could be involved in it.

The familiar dingand the sound of elevator doors opening cannot come soon enough, and the second it does he's on the move again. It takes him almost no time at all, though still too long in Cor's mind, to make his way to the doors at the main entrance. From the vantage point there he can already see parts of what's going on. Further down the staircase are multiple glaives already at work. Cor recognises Crowe where she stands at the side, gesturing to the people around and obviously in the midst of the evacuation work. He spares a short moment to send the recruit, who is still following behind him, over in her direction with orders to assist in the evacuation work. Then he sees Nyx, standing a bit further down, and then finally he sees a familiar tuft of blond hair. Prompto is talking to Nyx. Cor can't hear what they're saying as he makes his way towards them, but he can tell from meters away that something is wrong with Prompto. It's the way he's holding himself, tense and unnaturally stiff in his movements.

When Cor is close enough, he sees Prompto’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens in a silent plea. Cor lets his own expression soften some and sends him a reassuring nod. It’s at least intended as one, but he’s not sure it helps. Prompto still looks so very scared, and it pricks Cor’s heart painfully. He's about to turn to Nyx, to demand an explanation as to what's going on, but his attention is caught by something else. Peeking through behind the half-open zipper on Prompto's hoodie is some foreign object.

"Open your hoodie Prom, let me see that." Cor says. His mouth feels too dry all of a sudden, but he keeps his voice low and calm despite it. Prompto shifts uneasily but complies. With two shaky hands he fumbles a bit with the zipper, eventually getting it up. What reveals itself is a jumbled mess of wires and various cylindrical objects in black and grey, all fastened together with tape and zip-ties, strapped around Prompto's stomach like a horrid belt. It's most definitely home made, but there's no mistaking it. Cor recognizes explosives when he sees them.

"The hell-" Cor hisses. Though he immediately regrets that and cuts himself off when Prompto shrinks in on himself as if the curse is directed at him. Worry and disbelief swirl around in Cor's stomach. He turns his head to Nyx so fast his neck nearly twists. "What's going on here?"

The look on Nyx's face mirrors Cor's own emotions, and the crease to his brows deepens as he answers in a hushed voice. "Crowe and I found him standing here just earlier, says someone put that," and he motions with his head towards the device. "on him and dropped him off here with orders to go inside. He didn't see their faces."

Now anger flares up in Cor along with all the other conflicting emotions. Someone had dared to put a godsdamn bomb on his son. Cor feels his body tense up, and his hands balling into tight fists. He wants his hands on them, to make them regret ever thinking they could touch Prompto. But that will have to wait, Cor knows it. The top priority has to be getting that thing off of Prompto safely. He bites back another curse by pressing his lips into a thin line and wills himself to loosen the fists, though the tension still lingers in them.

"Bomb squad?" He asks.

"Already called, should be here any minute." Comes Nyx's answer, and Cor nods. He'd rather they were there already, but pushes that thought aside, they'll just have to wait. He then turns his attention back to Prompto. His son's eyes are wide and fearful, darting in between Nyx and Cor. His hands clutch the ends of the hoodie hard but even then, Cor can see them trembling faintly. Now that nobody's talking anymore, he suddenly becomes aware of Prompto's breathing. How strained it is, coming in short, shallow gasps. As if he's trying not to breathe at all.

Now every part of Cor's body urges him to rush to Prompto's side. To reassure him and tell him that everything will be alright. He knows he can't do that but takes one calm step forwards regardless. "Prompto-"

"No!" Prompto gasps, jerking back a step and stumbling slightly. It catches Cor completely off guard, and he stops dead in his tracks. Lifting his hands in a placating manner.

"Wha-"

"Don't come closer, please." Prompto's voice is barely more than a whisper, but to Cor it seems he might as well have been shouting. "If- if it blows, I don't want to hurt you."

Cor feels like he's just been hit in the chest with something hard. This isn't how things are supposed to be. Prompto, his sunshine, should not have to be this scared- for himself or for Cor. Cor sucks in a sharp breath, and despite what his brain is screaming at him to do he takes a step back to where Nyx is standing. It takes considerable effort to keep his voice calm when Cor speaks up again. "Okay, okay. Prompto look at me," he urges, trying to hold his son's gaze intently with his own. "I'm going to be fine, and you're going to be fine. Do you understand?"

After another moment Prompto nods weakly, even as his eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Cor sighs, and wonders what on earth is taking the damn bomb squad so long. He's about to turn to Nyx with this same question when, as if on cue, Prompto's breath hitches and his eyes fixate on something over Cor's shoulder. He turns around and there, finally, he sees a group of about seven or so men and women prepped with armoured suits making their way down the staircase. It draws some stares and gasps from the few not in the Glaive who are still there, but thankfully the evacuation work has come so far that there aren't many around.

Cor lets his shoulders sag ever so slightly in relief as the woman who seems to be in charge of the group comes over to him and Nyx. They exchange a few words and what little information they have on the situation, and she nods in affirmation and begins her work. Ordering three of her people to secure the streets and immediate surroundings to the bottom of the staircase, and the rest to come with her as she movies calmly towards Prompto. Cor tries to send him another encouraging nod, but he looks possibly even more terrified than before. The wide, unsure eyes and trembling lips are not something Cor wants to see on his son's face ever again if he can avoid it.

"They," Prompto tries, but it comes out more a choked gasp than anything else, and he hurries to try again. "they said not to touch it." The words almost trip over themselves in the rush to get out, and Prompto sends Cor a pleading look. Almost desperate as members of the bomb squad are getting closer to him.

"These people know what they're doing, kid." Cor urges on, thankful that his voice carries such authority and doesn't betray any underlying worries. "Let them help. I promise it will all be fine." Anything else is out of the question, he thinks, but he doesn't say that. Instead opting to take on as soothing and confident an expression as possible.

Prompto nods again, but doesn't look any more convinced, letting slip a tiny whine when the approaching bomb technicians are close enough to touch. The woman orders the hoodie to be removed, and her associates make quick work of it. It's close to torture, Cor finds, having to stay where he is and only watch. Prompto stays stiff and unmoving as the hoodie is removed and thrown to the side, where Nyx goes to pick it up. In the clutter of people now around him, Prompto looks like a forlorn kitten, fixed to the ground and scared to move in any significant way.

"Timer?" asks the woman loudly.

"None ma'am." comes the answer.

At this the woman turns her attention back to Nyx and Cor. "We're sure it's timed?" She asks. "No chance it could be remote controlled?"

Cor opens his mouth to answer but to his great surprise, and the woman's too it seems, Prompto beats him to it. "It's timed," his voice shakes slightly as he speaks. "they said so when they dropped me off… f-fifty minutes." he stammers, then his voice dies down again.

A moment of stunned silence goes by, then the woman curses loudly. "You should have said so sooner!" She snaps. Cor sees how it makes Prompto shrink in on himself and hears his stuttered apologies. They need to figure out how much time they have left, and the last thing he wants is for Prompto to panic now. So he takes a careful step forward, intent on getting Prompto's attention away from the lady.

"Prompto look at me!" He implores loudly, cutting Prompto off in the midst of his train of apologies. "Just look at me. I need you to tell me how long you stood here before anyone arrived, can you do that?"

"I- 6 maybe 7 minutes, I think." He answers, swallowing hard. Cor nods at him again then hastily checks the time on his phone. It's been almost 30 minutes since he left his office, though to him it feels like much longer than that. Still, that doesn't leave them with much time, only a little under 20 minutes. Cor relays the information out loud, to which the woman nods and goes back to her work, not wasting another second on talking.

Through all this Prompto has been keeping his eyes locked on Cor, exactly as told. So Cor sees it the second he returns his attention to his son. That now with the working hands of multiple people back around his waist, and the knowledge of just how long he has left until an eventual untimely death- a little under 20 minutes, it's all too much. Cor can see it all swirling around in his head, can read it in his face. It's one of the effects of having cared for someone from when they were a small child, Cor knows his son, and he knows the breaking point is coming.

"Prompto," he begins softly, "keep your eyes focused on me, okay? Only on me, ignore anything else." Prompto nods, chokes out a sob, and lets the first few tears come. Cor sees them rolling down unhindered, and the wet streaks they leave on freckled skin. "It's okay," he hushes, barely even noticing that he's taken a few more steps towards Prompto. "you've been brave today. Now just let us fix the rest, okay? It'll be alright."

Cor keeps speaking softly like that for what somehow feels simultaneously like an eternity and no time at all. The tears are still running down Prompto's face, but he's managing to keep his attention mostly on Cor and not on the rest of the situation. It's working exactly how Cor was hoping it would. When, after some time, the bomb loosens from around Prompto's waist and movement surges all around it catches Prompto entirely off-guard. But not Cor. Cor rushes forward the second he sees that the explosives are removed and Prompto is being shoved away from them for the bomb squad to finish their work, and when Prompto stumbles Cor catches him. Relief floods through Cor's body like a breath of fresh air, and he wastes no time before dragging Prompto a few secure steps back. He's holding his son, and it's okay now.

Prompto cries for another while, not at all surprising given the rush and tension from the day, but he's at least safe. In a move uncharacteristically tender for Cor when they're anywhere other than the privacy of their home, he runs his hand through his son's soft hair and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You're okay Prom, you're okay."

The two are awarded some peace and quiet before Nyx comes to check on the two of them and provide them with the news that the bomb has been properly taken care of. When he does Cor gives him a grateful nod. He knows it's time for him to take Prompto home, but before that there's one last thing he needs to do.

"Make sure the security footage from today is thoroughly checked." Says Cor, his voice every bit as serious as the situation calls for. And now it's Nyx's turn to nod, knowing without needing to be told what he's on the lookout for. "I want them found and identified."

[whumperscorner]

"Hand Gagging " for the bthb please :D

Here you go! Sorry it took some time :3 it ended up slightly longer than I had planned eheh

This is the first time I’ve written and posted any ffxv stuff (even though it is one of my longest whump fandoms eheh) so please be kind :>

BTHB#2- Hand Gagging

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 1950

Warnings: kidnapping

It’s already dark when Prompto steps out into the crisp evening air, waves one last goodbye to his friends and begins on the walk home. Gladio had offered to follow him part of the way, but Prompto had said no. He knows the way well, and it’s not too far. Besides, he really doesn’t mind walking on his own like this. He quietly hums along to a song he doesn’t remember the name of, one Iggy had put on earlier that evening, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He’d better give Cor a head’s up that he’s coming home soon.

*Omw home now.* He sends the message, puts the phone back in his pocket and blows a breath of warm air on his hands before stuffing them too into his pockets. He should’ve brought a pair of gloves, Prompto thinks as he absentmindedly crosses the street by a corner. One lone car passes slowly behind him when the phone buzzes. Prompto takes it out and the screen lights up with the new message from ‘Dad’.

*Fun evening? Eaten anything yet?*

*Yeah! And no, we sort of forgot.* That isn’t entirely true. Ignis had made valiant attempts at getting them to eat something substantial all evening, but he and Noct had been busy with Noct’s new game. Which Prompto had beaten him at fair and square, no matter what the prince would say to that. The two hadn’t really had time to focus on eating.

*There’s leftover thai, want me to heat it up for you?* Comes the answer from Cor, faster now than last time.

*Oh yeah thanks!* Thai sounds delicious right about now, and the thought makes his stomach rumble.

Prompto’s legs have been moving on autopilot up to this point, but now he glances up from the phone at his surroundings. Aside from one lone car at the end of the street, he’s the only one around. Prompto’s eyes land on a familiar old sign shaped like a pretzel and he sends another quick message to his dad.

*I’m by the old baker’s now, so I’ll be home in 10.*

*Great, see you then.*

*Yeah, see you later!*

After the exchange Prompto again stuffs the phone and his hands back in the warm pockets on his jacket. He looks quickly to both sides before crossing the road again, and well over on the other side he turns right. There’s a shortcut a bit further down that he plans on taking. Behind him, a lone car starts moving slowly in the same direction he’s going. But Prompto doesn’t notice it. His head is full of longing thoughts of warm thai food, and the song that he still doesn’t remember the name of.

He keeps walking for another few minutes, where the most interesting thing to happen is a squirrel jump-scaring him by running across the road up ahead. Then, the phone in his pocket buzzes and lights up to show a message from Noct. It’s a shot of the tv screen and the prince’s new game, with a new personal best he’s showing off. Prompto snickers and writes out the reply.

*Oh shit, didn’t know specs knew how to play that. He’s really good!*

*Screw you xD* comes the answer.

The two bicker back and forth for a good while, and Prompto vows to beat him again soon enough, which Noct does not believe he can do. Prompto smiles at the screen, letting his legs carry him absentmindedly along, he knows he can. He beats Noct fairly often, and not that he would brag or anything, but he’s pretty good when it comes to games.

Had Prompto been less distracted he would have no doubt realised something was off. He would have easily noticed the car, which has been following him down two and a half streets already. Never too far behind, but never passing him either. But Prompto hums and types excitedly as he walks along. It doesn’t occur to him to check, and why would it? He walks this way home all the time, and nothing bad has ever happened before.

Reaching the sharp left turn, Prompto begins on the way down the alley he knows will cut at least four minutes off of his normal walk. He gets a glimpse of the car when he rounds the corner, but it’s out of his line of sight soon enough. The alleyway here is narrower than the previous road, and darker too, but that doesn’t scare Prompto. Though something about that car does feel off to him. It feels familiar and gives him the strangest sense of déjà vu. Prompto makes a valiant effort to shake the feelings of unease now creeping up in him, but it doesn’t take long before the sound of tires screeching to a halt stops him in his tracks. He swirls around and scans the entrance to the alley, but no car is visible there. Still, his stomach twists uncomfortably, and he finds himself regretting that he passed up the offer from Gladio to walk with him.

A growing sense of foreboding dread settles in his stomach as Prompto slowly turns back around and keeps walking. He must be imagining things, he’s almost sure of it. Almost. The wind picks up, howling loudly in Prompto’s ears. The sound of it rustling the leaves on the ground could almost be mistaken for light footsteps. A chill runs up Prompto’s spine at the thought, but he doesn’t dare look back, instead upping his pace slightly. There’s probably nothing, says the rational part of his brain, but then again... How many times hasn’t Cor repeated that it’s better to trust your gut, and that if a situation feels off then it’s better to be safe than sorry? Well, it is better to be safe than sorry, Prompto decides and finds his dad’s number in the contact list. His finger is shaking slightly as it hovers over the call button, a combination of the cold and the nerves.

Just then, as he presses down on the button, something heavy collides with him from behind. His eyes widen and his mouth opens in a surprised shriek, but any sound is muffled by the big hand clamping over his mouth. Then he's yanked back, barely having time to register the screen on his phone changing to show the call trying to connect before it clatters down on the ground. Adrenaline and panic rushes in his ears and he struggles, instinctively twisting and squirming and trying to pull the person's arms off of him as he is dragged back. The haze of fear and confusion lifts for just long enough that Prompto's brain can finally catch up to what's actually happening, and it does in no way ease the panic. A muffled, terrified, squeal bubbles up in his throat and his struggling intensifies, limbs flailing as unknown hands grab around his face and chest. As if by a miracle his elbow connects with something soft and a pained groan sounds from behind, but if Prompto had any hope of that making things easier he was soon proven wrong. With a guttural curse the person behind changes direction, manhandling Prompto around so he almost loses his balance and pushing him up against the wall of the alleyway. A low whine, muffled by the hand, escapes as he pushes uselessly against the bricks in an attempt to give himself any leeway.

"Come quietly pretty boy, and you won't have to get hurt." A deep man’s voice hisses. The voice is low and dangerous, and the man’s breath is hot on Prompto's ear. It makes him shiver. He attempts to shake his head, to protest, he wants the man off of him. His fruitless struggling evidently makes the man laugh, a mocking bark of a sound comes from behind and then-

"-Prom? You there kid?" The call on his phone, now on the ground somewhere, has gone through. That’s Cor’s voice. Prompto recognises it instantly and relief floods through him. For a short moment both he and the man holding him stand completely still, then Prompto gathers himself and wrenches free of the grip. He gasps in a breath of fresh air.

"Dad! Da-" and the hand is back, clamping over his mouth again with bruising force and muffling the rest of his yelling.

"Prompto?! What's going on?" Cor's voice is louder as he presses on, more urgent. He can tell something is wrong, it's obvious in his voice, and the man holding Prompto curses loudly. Out of the corner of his eye Prompto sees another silhouetted person approaching. For one wonderful moment he thinks it might be someone coming to help, but it isn't. The other person strides forward, past Prompto and the man, and through Prompto's muffled yelling brings the heel of their boot down on the phone, hard. Once, then twice, until Cor's voice distorts and disappears and the broken screen flickers to black. With his dad's voice gone again Prompto feels more alone and hopeless than at any other point this evening, and fear grips his chest tight.

"Should teach Leonis to watch who he messes with." the silhouetted person turns back, and Prompto can see the sharp features of another man, mouth twisted in distain at Cor's name. He spits on the ground and starts walking again. "Let's move."

The man holding Prompto nods in response, and without warning manoeuvres him around to walk back towards the entrance to the alleyway. The sudden movement wakes Prompto from his petrified state, he stumbles, but is quick to regain his balance and plants his feet firmly on the ground. Cor knows something is going on. That means he'll come look for him, Prompto is sure of it. He can't let the men take him away before his dad comes for him. He bucks and twists in the man's grip with renewed energy, if he can only stall for long enough this will be fine. Cor will come and he will be fine. It's the only thing on Prompto's mind as the man holding him grunts in effort at keeping him subdued. A few feet up ahead, the commotion alerts the second assailant, who wastes no time rushing back towards the two.

"Stop fucking struggling." he almost spits the words as he comes closer, but Prompto meets his eyes defiantly. He doesn't intend on going along quietly, especially not when he knows Cor is coming. "Fine." the second man spits through grit teeth. Then, with no prior warning letting Prompto know to brace himself, a clenched first collides with his stomach. The impact knocks the air out of him, he cries out into the hand, and if it weren't for the man's tight grip he probably would have fallen. For a short dizzying moment he thinks he might puke, he tries to gasp, but with the hand still over his mouth it doesn't work. He's not getting enough air. Then they're on the move again, and Prompto has no choice but to follow suit. He's more carried than walked to the alley's entry, where the black car from before is parked just out of sight behind the corner. Prompto's heart sinks in his chest at the sight of it, and he tries one last time to pull the man's hands off of him. Some small part of him hopes that maybe if he can yell again now someone will hear and come help, but he's tired, and the hand won't budge anymore. He struggles still, of course, but his resisting doesn't help him as the men lock him up in the dark trunk of the car and drive off.

[whumperscorner]

Hello, my dear Rasko. I would like to order a bit of Pinned to the Wall for the bthb, thank you. 👀

Hello, my dear :3 Your whump is here as ordered

With Nyx, because I know you like him :>

BTHB #4- Pinned to the Wall

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius, Libertus Ostium

Whumpee: Nyx Ulric

Word count: 2775

Warnings: None

Can also be found on ao3

The plan had been very simple. In short: infiltrate the building, get the hostages out and defeat the bad guys. The usual. And admittedly the first two steps had gone pretty well, but if Nyx had learnt anything from being a glaive for as long as he had been it was that plans rarely went off without a hitch, even the simple ones. A small team of Nyx himself and a few others had entered the building undetected and assumed position to await further orders. They had been called to go in, which they did, and that was about when things had gone off the rails.

Nyx's eyes scanned through the chaos of the compact hall they were now in, and chaos really was the word for it. Glaives and members of the opposing group scuffling over each other in disarray. Different weapons shooting from every direction, fists and feet hammering against each other, and residual glimmer from warping still hanging in the air. Nyx cursed under his breath; this was a lot more difficult than it should be. It had gone so well up to this point too, the hostages were all evacuated now, but there were more members of the group than anticipated. Some had been disguised as hostages and some flat out hiding around the building. His team was outnumbered, which meant a change of plans. Ducking under a fist thrown his way, Nyx brought his hand up to the comm in his ear and it crackled to life.

"So how long did backup say?" He asked, voice breathy as he swiftly grabbed the arm of the man who'd punched at him and brought him down. He landed hard on the wooden floor as Crowe's voice sounded back over the comms.

"10- maybe 15 minutes?" She said, her voice also slightly strained from the fighting on her own end. "They want to bring these guys in for questioning, so keep them in this room."

Nyx hummed back in affirmation, swirling around in time to see Libertus a good few feet away felling one aggressor, and two more charging at him. Adrenaline rushed through Nyx's veins as he prepared himself, aiming his kukri above the moving crowds to ensure an uninterrupted warp. In one quick throw he was there, bracing himself and taking one of the assailants down with him as he landed. The guy's head smacked hard into the floor, and he stayed down. Libertus let out a bark of a laugh and brought the second one down himself with couple well placed punches.

"Never a dull day at work huh?" Nyx posed, to which Libs shook his head and chuckled a response. Though Nyx could barely even hear that, narrowly ducking as some blurred projectile whirred past their heads. The two exchanged smug grins and a quick handshake, before turning back to the task at hand and warping their separate ways through the mayhem.

Nyx made his way over to the leftmost side of the room, where one of the few exits were, thinking that if their current objective was to keep the group's members contained that would be the best place to be. And he was right. The area was swarmed and the amount of people there, both friend and foe, made it very hard for anyone to get a proper view of anything. Nyx held his own though, even as his breathing quickened and he was starting to get tired, probably bleeding from various cuts and scrapes as well. Having just finished dealing with one of the many foes Nyx turned, but didn't have time to react fully before someone else jumped forward and tackled him to the floor. The back of his head made contact with the hard surface and he groaned, slightly dazed, but gathered himself soon enough. Using the momentum from the person's tackle to roll back and kick them off overhead, Nyx was quick on his feet again. They just had to keep this going until backup arrived, and he was not going to let up before that.

"Oh, we've got a runner!" Libertus' voice sounded through the comms. "Nyx, he's headed your way."

Nyx swirled around to look and sure enough there was a large, burly man quickly making his way through the crowd, eyes fixed on the exit closer to Nyx. Without a second thought, and without acknowledging the aching of his body, Nyx began running. Ducking and evading fists and weapons as he did so. Someone else charged at him from straight ahead and blocked his way, but Nyx didn't stop, throwing the kukri in his right hand across the floor where he saw an opening. It slid along under multiple pairs of feet, some even jumping to avoid getting nicked by the blade, and Nyx warped after it. He landed only a few short feet away from the open exit, just in time to see the man running ahead down the narrow hallway outside of the room.

"Shit, I'm on it!"

"Nyx wait!" Crowe yelled for him through the comms. "Stay with the team, he's-" but the rest of what she had to say was cut off, and Nyx had already taken off down the hall.

His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, and he was getting a bit dizzy. Nyx cursed inwardly at that, maybe that last warp hadn't been such a good idea. He would need to wait a bit before the next one. Nyx caught a glimpse of the man up ahead right as he took a sharp left turn into another room, and he followed suit. It only took him a few seconds to enter the room after the man, and it took him even shorter to realize what a colossal mistake that had been. He saw it right as he crossed the threshold into the room. As if in slow motion, out of the corner of his eye, bouncing a few times on the floor as it rolled towards him. He realized on instinct what it was, and not being able to warp Nyx's eyes widened and he threw himself to the side. The hand grenade went off, and though Nyx had thrown himself as far away as he could in such little time the blast hit him almost head on.

He felt himself being flung through the air, then hit the floor hard. White hot pain shot out from his right shoulder on impact, and the kukris clattered out of his hands and across the floor. The force of the blast sent him rolling for another few meters until he came to an eventual stop. Nyx was breathing hard and coughed as he tried to gather himself. Shit, his shoulder really hurt when he moved, that was never good but especially not now. With considerable effort Nyx staggered to his feet, clutching the shoulder with his other hand. There was a ringing sound in his ears as he tried to steady himself, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn't just from the blast as Crowe's disjointed voice came through the now busted earpiece.

"Nyx! What… as… at?... yx-" then a head-splittingly loud ringing came from it, and with a low curse Nyx removed it and tossed it aside. It wouldn't be of any help to him now anyways, he decided.

He had just began searching along the floor for his kukris, when the man he had followed appeared out of the shadows by the door where he had been standing, and presumably where he had thrown the grenade from. Nyx's body tensed up, despite how much that hurt. Now looking at close range Nyx recognized the man's face from the mission briefing earlier in the day. He was one of the designated leaders of the organization they were fighting now, hostile to the Crown and reportedly a highly dangerous individual. Not to be engaged with alone if Nyx remembered correctly. Well, he thought somewhat bitterly to himself, bit late for that now.

The man approached slowly and carefully, and Nyx retreated in the same way, careful not to lose sight of the man or lose his footing. The he charged, and Nyx let out an involuntary gasp. He was fast, unfairly so, and Nyx's injuries would only hinder him if he tried to fight. So Nyx dove to the side, hissing in pain and trying to roll on landing to minimize any further damage. Then ensued something Nyx could only describe as a horrific kind of dance around the room. With the man on the offense, rushing at Nyx and attacking repeatedly and himself retreating, ducking and evading as fast as he could. Nyx would pride himself on managing to evade this man in particular for as long as he had but he was growing more and more tired, his injured shoulder was getting progressively worse, and at every turn his exit was blocked. There was no way he could keep this up in the long run. Then finally, Nyx thought he could see an opening. Cornered against the far-right wall of the room, Nyx readied himself again and ducked under and to the side of the man.

For one glorious moment he thought he had made it too, then something tugged harshly at his hair and he was yanked back. Nyx felt is back hit the wall behind him hard and let out a pained cry through grit teeth. A hand was quick to grab around his throat, and when Nyx instinctively pushed back against it, sharp dizzying pain shot out from his shoulder.

"As much as I've enjoyed our little cat and mouse game, I'm going to have to end it here glaive." The man started and tightened his grip on Nyx's throat until tears started prickling in the corners of his eyes and the edges of his vision grew blurry. Then something new came over his face and he loosened the grip just slightly. Something Nyx was grateful for as he coughed and wheezed in the grip. It looked almost like a flash of recognition or a realization of sorts had washed over the man's face, and his expression changed. It got somehow more dangerous. Like he had something planned, and Nyx did not like it. Then he spoke again, and his voice was lower, but no less dangerous. "Nyx Ulric. Of course it had to be you of all people giving me trouble, Hero of the Kingsglaive."

Those last words were almost spat at Nyx and his heart picked up its pace, but he was determined not to let that show. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me then!" he spluttered, putting on a defiant smile and somehow managing to sound way more playful and confident than he actually felt. In response the man put his other hand against Nyx's wounded shoulder threateningly, and before Nyx could protest or struggle hot glowing pain exploded down his side and arm. It radiated from his shoulder. Nyx's head jerked back. The smile dropped almost instantly from his face as he shut his eyes tight and groaned. He didn't open his eyes again until the pressure was let up, and the pain had calmed down to an uncomfortable warm throbbing. What met him then was a stone cold, calculated face, with the mouth twisted into a gross pretend-courteous smile.

"Pleasure." The man said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Then, with seemingly no warning except the slightest twitch to his face the man clenched his free hand into a tight fist and let it collide violently with Nyx's stomach. Nyx's eyes went wide on impact, but he couldn't see, the pain and shock reverberating through him was blinding. Without Nyx even realizing what happened his knees gave out and buckled under him, but the hand around his throat didn't budge. It kept him upright and firmly pinned to the wall as he gasped for air that wouldn't come. His vision was getting blurry, with the man's facial features swirling together into an unclear blob of colour. He felt himself being shook slightly, then a sharp pain across his cheek.

"Oh no no, you don't get to pass out just yet Hero." Nyx heard the man speak as if under water. The voice seemed unclear and far away, and he scrunched up his nose in effort, trying to focus on what was going on. "I can still-"

Then something happened that caught the man's attention, and he stopped talking. The blob that was his head turned. Nyx followed suit and saw more blobs entering the room, blurred swabs of black pooling in from the door. Then multiple things started happening all at once, leaving Nyx no time to be relieved that backup was finally there. Noise exploded through the room. Voices yelled over each other. Nyx was let go of, and with the only thing holding him up now gone he slid unhindered down to the floor, where he stayed. Clutching his shoulder and heaving for breath. Then there were sounds of a fight, and something in the back of Nyx's tired mind told him to get up and join in, but his body wouldn't do what he wanted it to. So he winced and instead opted for trying to gather himself and blink away the blurry edges from his vision.

It worked somewhat, and when two of the blobs broke off from the main blob group's fight and rushed towards him it didn't take him too long to see who it was. And finally, finally Nyx let the tension in his body go, and sighed heavily as Crowe and Libertus reached his side. He offered them both a tired smile and an attempted laugh that was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Let me look at you," Crowe said as she knelt down next to him, not wasting time waiting for his response before moving Nyx's own hand away from his shoulder and examining it herself. "How is it?"

"Bad." Nyx said, cringing slightly as her hands moved over the throbbing shoulder. "Dislocated maybe?"

"Oh definitely, we're going to have to set it properly before using any potions. Can you manage until then?" Came her answer. Nyx sighed, but nodded. Of course he knew she was right. Crowe kept going, moving on from the shoulder after noticing the blood filtered through Nyx's hair. "And the head?"

"Fuzzy." said Nyx, no point in hiding that. He was managing, but now that the adrenaline was disappearing ignoring the throbbing pain became near impossible. Crowe clicked her tongue and sat back a bit to look him in the eyes.

"Should be fine." She said dryly. The she kept going, deeming Nyx's physical state good enough for her to jab at him. "Now, what was that! The hell do you have to go get blown up for?"

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" Nyx laughed back. He looked up at Libs, who had been watching from the side with a worried crease to his brows, seeking verbal protection of some sort. But his friend just snorted out a laugh and shook his head.

"Jackass." Crowe said, finally letting her expression soften a bit. "Medical team's just outside, can you stand?"

Nyx sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn't entirely sure he trusted his legs to carry him, but he did give it a valiant try. Though as soon as Nyx was standing upright the world started spinning around him and Libertus rushed forward to steady him. They stood still like that for another short moment while Nyx breathed heavily to gather himself before Libertus asked if he was ready to go, and he nodded.

"So what'd you do to make that guy so angry?" Libs asked as they slowly and carefully made their way froward. He gestured his head towards the centre of the room, where the rest of the glaives they'd entered with were working on taking down the man Nyx had fought.

"Well, you know me and my dashing charms." Was Nyx's answer. He sent Libertus a smug smile, to which Libertus groaned and rolled his eyes.

"In that case I'm surprised the worst you got was a dislocated shoulder." He shot back, and Nyx laughed. A genuine laugh despite all the aches of his body.

"Oh, screw you-" He began cheerfully, but another coughing fit interrupted him.

"No, screw both of you," Crowe chimed in. She huffed and shook her head. Though Nyx could swear there was a small smile on her face as she joined in supporting Nyx on his other side, careful not to further aggravate the injured shoulder.