When Prompto first learned about your… uh, “unique” heritage, he laughed.

Really, he laughed.

Vampires? Come on, those weren’t real! And you? You weren’t exactly melting in the sun like some dramatic book character.

But then… he noticed the fangs.

The feline-like eyes that glinted in the dark.

The chill of your skin that made him shiver despite the summer heat. And the way you looked… so calm, so eerily still, like you were… well, dead.

The final confirmation came one night when he accidentally caught you sipping from a blood bag. Yep. That was it. You weren’t lying.

At first, he was flabbergasted. Curious, cautious, and maybe just a little freaked out. But then… well, he knew you. He’d known you since high school.

You’d never attacked him or the others.

And, okay, he’d been carrying around a massive crush on you for years, and denial could only last so long.

So, naturally, he offered to be your personal bloodbag. Not that he admitted the “crush” part. Ever.

And here you were now, sharing a hotel room, because apparently traveling with a vampire friend required hotel-level precautions.

Prompto sat cross-legged on the floor, knees hugged to his chest, heart hammering like a drumline at a festival. He watched you move with the kind of wide-eyed awe that made him look half like a deer and half like a lovesick puppy.

“I… I think I’m ready,” he whispered, voice low, almost breathless.

Then, immediately, the words spilled out faster than he could stop them: “But, uh—how does this work? Do you just… bite me? And then it… works? Or is there, like… levels? Blood-levels? Rules?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around like he expected the answer to jump out at him. “I-I’m not nervous or anything… okay, maybe I’m a little nervous. Totally normal, though! I mean, not weird at all… just kinda… yeah.”

And all the while, his crush sat right there in the middle of it, making every little heartbeat feel like a drum solo, and Prompto’s words tumbled out in a chaotic mix of excitement, worry, and the absolute inability to hide that he’d follow you anywhere!

Even if it meant becoming your willing, slightly terrified, completely smitten human snack.