#hello i have another prompt for you i managed to keep this one a little shorter but hopefully just as sweet

[steveseddie]

cold bones (you were the warmth)

rating: g | cw: none apply | word count: 1,307

tags: eddie munson lives, steve harrington is a sweetheart, pre-relationship, fluff and hurt/comfort

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is asking ‘do you want a blanket?’” by @thefreakandthehair

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie wakes up feeling cold.

He always does these days. Since he almost died in the Upside Down it’s like the coolness from that place burrowed deep inside him and even now, two weeks later, he still can’t shake it off.

It doesn’t help that he’s still stuck in this room while he recovers. There’s an iciness to this place too- this secret government hospital. It’s not just the place with its gray and empty walls, but the people who work there too. The doctors, the nurses, and the government agents who are constantly walking into his room all treat him with the same indifference and apathy, and Eddie is used to people being hateful and mean, but this treatment is far worse.

The only time he ever feels warm is when someone comes to visit him, his uncle, or one of his new friends. But even then, that warmth doesn’t last long once they leave and he goes back to being cold.

With a sigh, Eddie wraps the flimsy hospital sheet around himself and rolls over on the bed, careful not to jostle the stitches covering his sides too much.

He lets out a soft gasp when he sees someone sitting on the chair next to his bed.

“Steve?” Eddie has to ask because he’s not completely sure that he’s not dreaming. Yes, Steve Harrington somehow ended up being part of that group of new friends, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t surprise Eddie every time.

Steve looks up from the book he’s reading- The Hobbit, which does little to convince Eddie that he isn’t imagining this- and smiles.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“Am I? Because King Steve Harrington reading Tolkien next to my bed feels like something that would only happen in my dreams,” Eddie says, cringing a little at the meaning behind his words, hoping that Steve doesn’t read too much into what he said.

If Steve does, he doesn’t show it, simply chuckling softly. “Someone left it here for you. Think it was Henderson. It was either reading this or watching you sleep, and that one felt a bit creepy.”

Eddie snorts, gesturing at the worn-out cover of the book. “What do you think?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not bad, but there are too many names, man. It’s confusing.”

“Fair enough.”

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, putting the book back on the bedside table.

Eddie makes a face. “Like my body is being held together by stitches and prayers,” he says. A displeased frown appears between Steve’s eyebrows. “But they’ve got me on some powerful drugs here, so I can’t complain.”

The pain isn’t really what bothers him the most anyway, it’s the cold. Always the cold.

For a moment, Eddie thinks he said that out loud because the next thing out of Steve’s mouth is, “Do you want a blanket?”

“Hm?”

Steve gestures at Eddie on the bed. “You bundled yourself up like a burrito there and you were shivering in your sleep.”

“I thought you weren’t watching sleep, Stevie,” Eddie says with a smirk.

Steve’s cheeks turn a pretty pink shade. “I might’ve glanced at you once or twice. You snore, it’s annoying.”

With an undignified squeak, Eddie says, “I don’t snore!”

Steve laughs heartily. “So, blanket? I can ask one of the nurses for one.”

“You would have better luck asking Vecna for a hug, man” Eddie snorts. “I’ve asked, they- they never bring me one, either they forget or just don’t care.”

Steve frowns. “What? But they’re supposed to be taking care of you. All that shivering could mean you have a fever or something worse!” Eddie can’t but chuckle as he slips into Mother Hen Steve mode.

“Pretty sure it’s not. It’s- I think it has to do with the Upside Down? Like, being there and almost dying there left me feeling perpetually cold or something,” Eddie tries to explain. Steve’s eyes narrow at him. “I know it doesn’t make sense-”

But Steve shakes his head. “No, it does, the kids- they told me that when Will got possessed by the Mind Slayer or whatever his name was, he felt cold all the time so maybe it’s like, an Upside Down thing.”

Eddie blinks. “So you’re saying I could be possessed by a monster?”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm. “No! No! No. I’m sure you’re not. I’m sure it will go away eventually.”

“If you say so.”

“Speaking of that. Going away,” Steve says, looking down at his watch and wrinkling his nose. “I should go, I have a shift.”

“Are people even renting movies after half the town got destroyed?”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve says. “I’ll come back later, okay?”

Then, he reaches for Eddie’s hand, halfway concealed by the hospital sheet, and squeezes it. Warmth spreads through Eddie at lightning speed from the touch. It lingers just long enough after Steve leaves so that Eddie can fall asleep again.

***

The next time Eddie wakes up- cold again, always cold- Steve isn’t there, but he comes back a few hours later, carrying a large bag.

“Back already?” Eddie asks when Steve closes the door. “Did you miss me that much, sweetheart?”

Steve splutters, almost dropping the bag and flushing a bright red. “Shut up.” He places the bag on Eddie’s bed and he recognizes the logo on the front.

“Did you raid Melvald’s on your way here?”

Steve bites his lip. He won’t meet Eddie’s eyes, staring down at the contents of the bag instead. “I figured if they weren’t going to give you any blankets here, I’d bring you some.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he starts unpacking blankets from the bag- first a yellow fuzzy blanket, then a plaid one, and finally one with some animated cartoon characters on it that Eddie doesn’t recognize. He stares at them with his lips parted in shock.

“Uh, these were all they had, they donated a bunch of them to the shelter after, you know, everything.”

“You- brought me blankets?”

“Uh, I did, yeah.”

“You’re- something else, Harrington, did you know that?” Eddie says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Uh, something good I hope?” Steve asks, fidgeting a little.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Definitely.” It hits Eddie then that he’s in a lot of trouble. It was one thing when Steve was just an attractive guy, but it’s another thing to realize that he’s kind and good and cares about Eddie. This is a guy that Eddie could see himself falling in love with and that’s a problem.

But it’s a problem for another day. For now, he grabs the yellow blanket and drapes it over himself. The cold doesn’t go away entirely but it recedes, and Eddie sighs happily. When he looks at Steve, he’s got a pleased little smile on his lips.

Eddie figures that he’ll leave now since he already did what he came here to do. He doesn’t want him to, but to his surprise, Steve lingers and Eddie sees his eyes land on the book on his bedside table.

He smirks. “Admit it, Harrington, you’re hooked.”

Steve’s eyes dart to him and he shakes his head. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You are,” Eddie singsongs. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Henderson. Under one condition.”

Steve narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

“Read to me?”

Steve blinks, clearly not expecting that, but then the corners of his mouth tug up slightly. “I can do that.”

He sits down on the chair after grabbing the book, and Eddie carefully rolls onto his side, facing Steve, and wrapping himself up like a burrito in his new fuzzy yellow blanket.

He feels real warmth for the first time since he went through that portal, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the blanket or the sweet voice reading to him.

Or maybe it’s just Steve.

[loulovingho]

if you're still doing prompts: maybe eddie thinks he sees tommy cheating and confronts him only to find out just how wrong he is. thanks!

“Sorry, man, I can't. I took an extra shift.” That was what Tommy had told Eddie when Eddie asked if he wanted to go to their usual sports bar for beer and wings.

Which is why Eddie was very curious as to why Tommy was walking down the street, passing right by the bar on his way to wherever he was going.

Eddie kept watching as Tommy reached the crosswalk, stopping as he waited for traffic to clear.

Buck wasn't with him, but some other guy appeared to be. At least, he kept talking to Tommy, leaning in close and laughing at something Tommy said.

“This can't be good,” Eddie muttered. He could feel himself starting to get heated already.

The light at the crosswalk changed just as Eddie threw a twenty down for the wings he ordered but hadn't gotten yet. He hurried out of the bar and managed to make it to the crosswalk just as the hand lit up telling him not to cross.

He crossed anyway.

Eddie waved off the honks and hid behind a building until he was sure Tommy wouldn't be looking back toward the noise.

Slowly he peeked around the building and glanced around until he spotted Tommy again. He and this guy were continuing down the street, so that's what Eddie did too.

He made sure to keep enough distance between them, but honestly Tommy looked so enthralled with whatever conversation they were having that Eddie was pretty sure he wouldn't be noticed anyway.

He had half a mind to whip out his phone and start taking pictures and videos. Get proof of whatever was happening so he'd have evidence when he told Buck.

Because he had to tell Buck.

Because Buck was all in on this relationship. He was undeniably in love with Tommy. Together for a year now, living with one another for four months, and Buck often talked about their future.

He had to tell him before papers were signed; before things were made official.

It would break Buck's heart. Eddie knew that. He'd be out of it for weeks, maybe even months.

But how could Eddie let this continue while knowing that Tommy was a backstabbing, two-timing, cheating skank?

Okay, maybe he was beyond heated. It was possible he was livid.

It didn't make it any better that the two men had stopped now, and this unknown homewrecker was reaching out and putting his hand on Tommy's shoulder.

“Hey!” Eddie yelled before he could stop himself.

Tommy's head jerked toward him, wide-eyed. Like a deer in headlights. “Eddie. What... I-hi.”

“Hi? That's what you have to say to me? Hi?”

Tommy's face went from surprised to confused. “Would you prefer hello?”

“Don't play dumb with me, man! How could you do something like this?”

“You gotta help me out here, Eddie. What'd I do?”

“You lied to me, for one.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Sorry, Eddie, I just had this thing I had to do today and I didn't want anyone knowing about it.”

“That's what you call this? A thing? Right in front of him?” He motioned to the man, who seemed a bit anxious at the moment.

“Well, it's not like he doesn't know what I'm doing.”

“Of course he knows! Buck's the only one who doesn't know. Have you thought about that? Have you spared a second to think about your boyfriend in all of this?”

“He's kinda all I've been thinking about during this.”

Eddie put one hand on his hip, the other pointed at Tommy. “I'm so close to punching you right in the face, Tommy.”

“I'd rather you didn't,” Tommy deadpanned. “Eddie, would you like to meet Gordon? He's the owner of the jewelry shop we're standing in front of.”

“You're cheating on Buck with Gordon? Really, Tommy? Gordon?” Part of Eddie felt a little bad. Gordon wasn't a bad looking guy. He was shorter than both of them, short brown hair and even browner eyes. He wasn't very muscular, but the suit he wore fit him well. Tattoos peeked out from underneath his collar, and the black frame of his glasses really tied the whole look together.

Still, he wasn't Buck, and they both needed to know that!

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “I'm doing what with who now?” he asked as Gordon shook his head nervously.

“Oh, no. That, um. No.”

“And you're gonna do it in his jewelry store? Shame on you, Tommy. Shame!”

“Eddie, I'm gonna need you to take it down like ten notches. I'm not cheating on Evan.”

“Then what's with the lying?” Eddie questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “And Gordon?”

“Like I said before, Gordon owns the jewelry shop we're standing in front of. We met a few months ago on a call. We got to talking and that's when he told me about this place. He's usually closed today, but he was kind enough to bring me here on his day off so I could pick up the ring.”

Sometimes it took Eddie a minute to connect the dots, but he always got there. “Ring?” he questioned, his tone lighter now.

“Yeah. Ring.”

“You mean like an eng-”

“Engagement ring, yes.”

“Oh... Oh!” Now Eddie was smiling brightly, holding out his hand to Gordon for a shake. “Great to meet you, man! I'm Eddie.”

“H- Hi, Eddie.” Gordon returned the shake, but he was still a little nervous, and very confused.

“Gordon,” Tommy explained, “Eddie is Evan's best friend. I was supposed to hang out with him today, but I lied and said I had to work. My mistake.”

“Mm,” Gordon nodded. “It's starting to make sense now. Would you both like to come in?”

“Yes, we would,” Eddie answered, following behind Gordon as he unlocked the door.

“I'll go get it from the back,” Gordon said, locking the door back once they were inside. “It may take me a minute, but shouldn't be too long.”

Once Gordon had left them in the front of the store, Tommy turned to Eddie. “I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on Evan. Are you crazy?”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “I couldn't believe it, that's why I was so mad! Why didn't you tell me this is what you were doing?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “I was nervous. Figured if he said no, at least no one would know I'd asked.”

“He's not gonna say no.”

“You don't know that.”

“Dude, he's not gonna say no.”

“But what if he does, Eddie? What if I screw it up somehow?” Tommy rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “I want it to be perfect. He deserves that.”

Gordon came back out then, box in hand. “Here you go, Mr. Kinard. Make sure everything is perfect before you pay.”

“You didn't have to pay for it yet?” Eddie asked as Tommy took the box.

“No,” Tommy answered, glancing up at Eddie. “Another kind thing he did was let me wait until it was engraved before I paid. Because he's a nice person.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, then turned to Gordon. “Sorry for calling you a homewrecker, man. I didn't mean it.”

“I... I didn't know you called me a homewrecker.”

“That might've been in my head. Still, sorry.”

Gordon felt in a little over his head here. This Eddie person was... interesting. “That's okay.”

Tommy stared down at the ring, biting at his lip.

“Gordon,” Eddie flashed him a smile, “could you give us a couple more minutes? Then we'll pay and be out of your hair.”

“No problem.”

Once he'd retreated back to his office, Eddie moved closer to Tommy. “What's engraved on it?”

Tommy pulled the ring out of the box and handed it to Eddie. Silver with a gold band running down the center, dots and dashes on the inside. “It's um, it's morse code. It just says “ILY” for I love you, obviously, but the morse code is the special part.”

“Why's that?”

Eddie watched as Tommy smiled at whatever memory was popping into his head. “They still taught morse code when I was in the army, and when Evan found out I knew it he was determined to learn. We'd practice every time we were together.”

“I remember him doing that at work too.”

Tommy nodded. “Yup. He had it down in a month. We still use it whenever we can. He'll tap something out on my thigh, or even blink something at me from across a room.”

Eddie placed the ring back into the box. “Propose to me.”

Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Propose to me,” he repeated.

“Wh... Why, exactly?”

“You said you were worried the proposal wouldn't be perfect. That you'd screw it up. Practice on me, and I'll let you know.”

“That's insane.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Two months ago you and I parachuted out of a plane when the engine failed and got lost in the mountains for nearly two days. That was insane. This is being prepared.”

Tommy looked down at the ring, then to Eddie, then back at the ring, then back at Eddie. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Eddie clapped his hands together. “Okay, go.”

After a slow inhale, he began. “Evan.”

“Yes, Pooh Bear?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, tilting his head. “He doesn't call me that.”

“I've seen the texts, man.”

“Forget it. I'm not doing this with you.”

As he turned to walk away, Eddie grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him back in. “Okay, okay. I'll be serious. Now, come on. Propose to me.”

Tommy sighed. “Fine, but I'm not kneeling.”

“That's okay, I'll pretend.”

Tommy straightened his posture and cleared his throat before beginning again.

“Evan.”

“Tommy.”

“Growing up, I never thought I'd find love. Not real love, anyway. I thought that maybe, if I was lucky, I could fabricate it. Play pretend and be fine with settling. Then, as I got older, I realized how unfair that was to me, and to whoever I would have ended up with.”

Tommy blinked away the tears that were blurring his vision as he continued. “I went through life with people, friends and colleagues that kept me busy, but I felt alone. And then you came along, and you lit up my world. Every doubt that I had collected over time slowly washed away with each smile we shared. Getting to do life with you over this past year has been an honor. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. If you would, I'd love us to have each other for the rest of our lives. So, Evan,” Tommy opened the box, presenting the ring to Eddie. “Will you marry me?”

Eddie stood there, staring between the ring and Tommy for what felt like an eternity, his own eyes red-rimmed and doe-like. “Holy hell,” he managed to utter out.

Nervously, Tommy asked, “You think he'll say yes?”

“Well, if he doesn't, I will!” Eddie took a step forward and wrapped Tommy in a hug, earning a surprised, “Oomph,” out of him.

“Yes,” Eddie said, patting his back. “He'll say say.”

When he finally pulled away, Tommy was smiling. He let out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. So, buy the ring, then?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, man. Buy the ring.”

[xazse]

Hello! I'm a new reader and I fr love your writing, especially the scara x bunny girl!! Please need more🥺

Maybe when bunny girl got in heat while scaramouche is on a business trip. She kept touching herself but she can't cum. The best she can do probably is hump the stuffed toy scara got for her so she calls scara. However, scara kept on ranting about his day, making bunny needier so she continues her shenanigans while scara is talking. He catches her eventually and punishes her. You can be creative with it.

(I can't really depict scenarios I'm so sorry shshshshshh)

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: HI IM SORRY THIS IS SHORT I DIDNT WANT YOU TO THINK I WAS LIKE IGNORING YOU ITS JUST BEEN IVE BEEN IN A WRITING BLOCK SORTA 😭 I’m sorry I didn’t exactly follow the prompt I just wanted to get this out to you, again I’m extremely sorry for the lateness.

I’m so happy you love my writing and our cute bunny girl reader and scars

Pairings: Scaramouche x BunnyGirl!Reader

Tags: Humping, Scara being mean and bossy, just really filthy, hybrid!reader, Fem!Reader, NOT PROOFREAD

It’s been pure torture for you, your body feels like it’s constantly on fire and like you’re carrying a heavy weight as you go from room to room smelling various things Scara owns whilst he’s on his trip. He left you because the doctor assured that your heat wouldn’t come for at least another two weeks, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The only things keeping you comforted and relieving your body is the stuffed animals that you insist stay on the bed when you and Scara are sleeping, he despises the things but keep them as to not upset you. So they things are filled with his scent, his lavender hair wash and woody smell lingers. You can’t help but inhale the scent in the plushies every so often.

You’ve already called him and told him about how it came earlier and the sneer that came upon his face did nothing but make you twitch, you know he’s enjoying how you’ve been suffering, he is ultimately getting off on the fact that you can’t have his cock to fill you up, it’s so frustrating but he looks so good while scolding you on how you did this on purpose, even though you literally can’t control when your heat decides to come.

One night you’re tossing and turning, when your heat finally hits you full on, moans slip from your lips as your clit throbs with need, you get a whiff of Scara again in the stuffed animal you’re currently whining into, and instantly your horny mind shifts to dirty thoughts, thoughts of his long cock battering your sensitive walls whilst he groans in your ear.

A few moments later you’re dragging your whole cunt against the poor stuffed animal, you feel bad but your hips won’t allow you to stop, won’t let you stop feeling that slight drum in your little clit. You reach your fingers down to add a little more stimulation to find your completely soaked. By now you should’ve cum, but you’re left whining into the pillows as you keep trying to hump away. His smell isn’t nearly enough your heady head deems.

You successfully managed to grab the phone and call Scara, already begging him to accept the face-call. He does and props his phone up so you can see him completely in his element, buried in paperwork with a scowl on his face, so pretty. He’s already ranting about how he hates this place and all the people in it, angry about the annoying escorts they keep sending to his room that he’s meant to fuck, he’s already said he wants nothing to do with them because they think he’ll eventually change his mind.

His eyes glide to the camera, seeing you flushed and naked? He can only see your face and shoulders.

“Are you clothed woman?” He says while closely inspecting the camera again.

Did he completely forget about the fact that you’re literally in heat?

He laughs a little and gets up, the lights in whatever room he’s in goes dark and you’re graced by his appearance again.

“What are you up to bunny?” He questions, you respond with a slight mumble under your breath but the mumble comes out too breathy. The only thing lighting up his face is the lamp by his side, it gives his skin a pretty golden gleam and that makes your cunt twitch.

“I’d forgotten about your little issue, m’sorry, do you want my help? Poor thing.” He’s doing that fake voice where it’s filled with concern but once again hes getting off on your suffering but that spurs you on too.

You hear some slight shuffling before the camera is moved downwards, where you can still see his face until his thick cock is seen, he’s fully hard: even from your conversation earlier he had been thinking and waiting for you to call him. He starts slow when he strokes himself, precise hands slide up and down while he maintains eye contact with you. You feel weird, a good weird.

“Nu, uh, bunny, don’t you dare, keep doing what you were doing before” he manages to get out inbetween stuttered breathing. He knows you were about to touch yourself using your fingers, but no he wants you to keep humping your stuffed animal.

“Won’t work, Kuni” you whine out, god he squeezes his tip, he loves when you get like this but he won’t tolerate you disobeying. “Do as I say” he gives no room for arguments with his sharp tone. Your ears deflate but you do as you’re told and start gliding your messy cunt back and forth. Scara seems pleased to see you further ruin yourself: you can see him start stroking himself faster, saying your name over and over through clenched teeth, calling you a good bunny for listening so well to him.

He tells you to show the mess you’ve made, you don’t protest as you shift to sit up and spread your legs in front of the camera, you really are dripping. He fantasizes about just how good you’ll feel wrapped around him, how he’s going to make you cum so many times on his fingers then you’ll be able to have his cock. Your fingers trail down, he’s about to scold you but you use your fingertips to pry your pussy so he can really get a full view.

Loud moans slip from his lips as his balls tighten hard, and he’s cumming with thick spurts. You don’t hear a few words but you do make out how he’ll be back shortly.

[chirpy-poppy]

Our Pin

When Darkwick allows you to choose one of the houses to join, how will they convince you?

Inspired by this ask/post.

Frostheim “Wait,” Jin grunts at you as you approach the door, done with his errands for the day. He tosses something at you which you barely manage to catch. When you do, you recognize the deep blue pin. “You’d be set for life with the connections you make here. Choose wisely.” Jin is a man of few words, but you’d hear most of Frostheim’s pitch from Kaito who basically begs you to join them. Lucas would come with a few logical points about why you should choose Frostheim, and Tohma would keep you so busy with tasks, you wouldn’t be able to visit other houses during your decision period.

Vagastrom “It’ll be pretty cool if we lived a little closer together, Senpai. I’ll cook for you every day.” Sho is the only one who’d want you at Vagastrom. Alan gives you a stern warning not to do something so dangerous. Leo’s existence alone convinces you to stay far away.

JabberwockThey use their fluffy animals to their full advantage. Haru takes you on a Cappybus tour to see all the cutest animals while Towa engulfs you in the most fragrant flowers. Ren might actually beg you to join them too since you are actually willing to do the chores. Towa gives you such a puppy look while Haru discreetly pins the orange brooch onto your lapel. Peekaboo lets out the saddest “Booo” when you leave for the day. How can you ever refuse them? 

SinostraRomeo had given Taiga a lecture on their objective just before you were scheduled to meet them, so the captain actually remembers who you are when you walk in. “Hello, Kitten,” he purrs as you come in with some documents. He somehow gets you strapped into his torture chair and is about to stab the brooch into your jacket when Romeo bursts in. “You’re supposed to convince her, not force her!” “Why? It’s so much easier this way.” Taiga spins his revolver before placing it on your temple. Ritsu steps in at this moment to quote some law that no one is really paying attention to. Taiga and Romeo get into such an argument that no one notices you slipping away and running for your life.

Hotarubi The three invite you over for tea. At the end of it, Subaru presents you with the amethyst brooch in an intricately carved wooden box. “We would love it if you would join Hotarubi, PC. Of course, we want you to make the decision you believe is best for you, but you should know you are always welcomed and appreciated here.” As Haku walks you home, he purposefully takes a scenic route through Hotarubi. He’d gently pitch his own house but reminds you they are here for you no matter what decision you make. 

ObscuaryWas unfortunately not one of the options available to you. Rui is quite relieved though. He isn’t sure how he can live constantly worried about touching something as weak as a human. He also knows he could never live with himself if something happened to you, and the risk of it increases so much more if you stayed in his dorm. Lyca is completely bummed though. He thought he had a chance to finally have a friend at the dorm. He does not understand why you can’t stay at Obscuary since he’s here and he’s human too. Ed thinks it’s a shame, but he is sure you’d visit often still.

Mortkranken“Humph! You should feel honored to even be considered joining Mortkranken,” Yuri gloats, dangling the brooch in front of you. “He desperately wants you to join,” Jiro deadpans. “Jiro! Can you shut it! I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you did since you are a very interesting subject.” Yuri’s blush isn’t fooling anyone as he shoves the teal accessory into your hands. Despite his shyness, he still keeps you around for another three hours helping him pipette. As you get ready to leave, he calls your name. “Consider it. You… You aren’t repulsive, at least.”

A/N: Thank you to those who sent in prompts. I'm sorry if I don't get to yours, but I will only be writing those that spark an idea. I don't want to write something bleh just to fulfill an ask. Thank you for your submission though!

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 16! Posted on the 18th because I was really struggling with this prompt. Also took a couple of days away from tumblr and posting for my own sake. This is my third iteration of this prompt, so I hope you like it!

Alastor x Reader x Vox

Tags/Warnings: Threesome, M/M/F, Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, fem!reader, porn without plot, rough sex, soft Alastor, soft Vox, def. not in character, first time writing a threesome, shenanigans Word Count: 1, 944

You had managed to draw the affections of both Vox and Alastor. Both Overlords had approached you days apart from one another, with the intent to bed you. You never read into either of their intentions further than them wanting you for sex. So you never mentioned one to the other, why would you have a reason to? They were rivals, and as long as they didn’t know about one another, then you were getting twice the sex. You saw Vox at work and Alastor at the Hotel. They were separate and you were intent on keeping them that way. You knew if they were aware of one another it could easily turn into a pissing competition, or you could be in for a world of trouble. You hoped they’d remain ignorant and so far, they had.

Vox had called you on your day off, which was why you were now half-way to his office, with no panties on beneath your skirt. He could have only called you for one reason and that was for sex. Both Vox and Alastor had been slightly distant for the past week, not once inviting you to their beds. You didn’t think anything of it, they were both very busy men, after all.

You push open the door to Vox’s office, putting on a soft smile for your lover as you come up towards his desk.

“Hello, Vox.” You greet, your voice dipping into a more sultry tone.

He smiles, leaning back in his chair, saying your name softly, “You’re just the person I wanted to see.”

You walk around his desk, leaning back against the surface and spreading your legs wider for him. “Mhm, you’re also just the person I wanted to see.”

He chuckles, leaning forward to brush his hands up your thighs. “Oh yeah? Is Alastor busy?”

Disbelief shot through you and you huffed out a laugh. “Alastor? What does he have to do with this?”

You felt the Radio Demon’s presence before you heard him.- “I believe I have plenty to do with this.”- He drawled, his hands coming to trap you on either side, his chest pressing against your back.

You were fucked.

You had to be. Because here you were, trapped between both of the Overlords who you had been sleeping with. They had found out and now you were stuck in their web.

Alastor pressed his mouth against the shell of your ear as Vox began to slide your skirt up. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out, little doe?”

The cold terror you were feeling at being caught quickly tinged with arousal as Vox, impatient with your skirt, used his claws to slice it off you. You gasp at the sensation of your skirt being ripped away, revealing your distinct lack of panties.

Vox smirked, forcing your legs further apart. “Thought you were coming here for sex, huh babydoll?”

“Fuck you.” You growl out, feeling a mix of emotions and not knowing how to deal with the situation.

He laughed, “Oh we’re going to.”

You swallow hard, feeling Alastor begin to trail kisses down your neck.

“Did you truly think you could play us both for fools, my dear?” He mummers, nipping your collarbone sharply.

You gasp again, pressing back into Alastor as Vox stood and reached for his belt.

“I didn’t…” You whimper, your eyes never leaving Vox as he freed his cock and stroked it languidly. “...mean to.”

Alastor pulled away, disappearing into the shadows only to reappear in front of you, standing next to Vox. He leaned on his microphone, leveling you with an even stare.

You take a deep breath, interrupting him before he could speak. “You both approached me at similar times. I didn’t think it mattered that either of you knew about one another.”

Vox reaches for your hand, which despite yourself, you willingly take.

“Unfortunately  it does matter, babydoll.” He growls, pulling you into his chest. “Playing with both of our hearts isn’t a very smart thing to do.”

“Lucky for you...” Alastor stepped in, his cane disappearing into the shadows. “We know how to play nice when we have a common goal.”

You whimper as Vox grasps your shirt before tearing it off you. Your bra meets a similar fate, leaving you completely naked, save your shoes. Vox kicks your legs apart, lining himself up with your entrance, finding you soaking.

“Damn, so wet for us already babydoll.” He thrusts into you, kissing you to swallow your moans.

Alastor rolls his eyes, taking a step behind you as Vox begins to thrust into you. You whimper against his kiss, letting his tongue slip into your mouth as he picks up the pace. The wet slap of your bodies fills the air, your moans slipping past the kiss. His claws dig into your ass, piercing your skin, his pace bruising.

“Do be more gentle with her, you don't want to break her.” Alastor scolds.

Vox pulls away from kissing you to flash Alastor a cocky grin. “Oh she can take it, can't you doll?”

You nod, panting heavily to regain your breath. You moan softly as he continued to fuck into you harshly.

“I know she can take it. I'm surprised you haven't ever noticed the marks I've left.” Alastor retorts, reaching to free his own hardening member.

“I did.” Vox growls, pulling from you suddenly, making you whimper. “That's why we're here, asshole.”

Alastor's smile widens as he frees his cock, nudging Vox out of the way. You would have laughed at Vox stumbling if Alastor hadn't immediately thrust into you to replace him. You groan at the difference of their lengths and girth. You wrap your arms around Alastor's neck as he braces you against him, hiking your leg up around his hip.

“Indeed.” Alastor muses, effortlessly continuing his conversation with Vox despite beginning to fuck into you. “Though it was your scent on my little doe that tipped me off to you.”

Vox huffed, having regained his balance. He stepped up behind you, brushing your hair back as he pressed kisses against your neck. He ran his slick cock over your asshole causing you to gasp and stiffen. Alastor groaned as you tightened around his cock.

“Absolutely not!” You hiss at Vox, interrupting whatever he was going to say to Alastor.

You press closer to Alastor, trying to worm away from Vox’s cock pressing against your tight hole.

Vox chuckles, turning his attention to you, “you don't get much of a say right now, Dollface. You've gone around and broken both of our hearts, that deserves some punishment.”

Your eyes meet Alastor's, wide and begging, as you try to ignore Vox’s words. “Alastor, please don't let him.”

The Radio Demon hums, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before glancing up at Vox. “At least prepare her first.”

Your eyes widened at the betrayal, but you figured they must have also felt betrayed, finding out that they weren’t the only one you were with. You swallow, realizing that you truly didn’t get a say in how they decided to punish you. This was mercy.

Vox shrugged, stepping up closer to you, his chest pressing against your back. “I could, or I could do this.”

He slid his cock from your tight hole, right to where Alastor was buried deep inside you. He began to press into your already full cunt causing you to gasp and whimper. Alastor's eyes flashed with a dangerous light as Vox thrust into your pussy, his cock sliding against Alastor's.

“Fuccck.” He groaned, pressing his face against your shoulder. “How's that, doll? Better than in your ass?”

You felt impossibly full, your body struggling to comprehend both of their cocks buried in your cunt. They were stretching you painfully, but you couldn't deny the fact that it was incredibly erotic to have them both inside you.

“Yes…” you whimper, speaking before Alastor could object to having to feel Vox's cock against his.

“I rather don't like it.” The Radio Demon snarled, his pupils turning into black radio dials.

Vox flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Too bad you can't do anything about it.”

Radio static picked up around both of you, causing you to cup Alastor's face. The Radio dials immediately disappeared as he softened for you.

“Hey.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Indulge him, for me?”

You wondered if he would listen, they were supposed to be punishing you after all. He rolled his eyes, but nodded, pulling from your warmth slowly. You mewl as Vox pressed deeper inside you. When he started to withdraw, Alastor thrust back into you. The sensation was unlike anything else you had ever experienced before. Both of them working in time to fuck you. It wasn't long before they picked up a quick pace, supporting you between them. Your cries filled the air, mixing with the sound of your bodies meeting over and over. You tighten your grip around Alastor’s neck, burying your face against him as you pant. You were so close to your edge, your release within reach in a matter of moments.

“Fuck. So good for us,” Vox groaned, “is this what you wanted babydoll? Both of us?”

“Yes.” You moan, “Fuck, I want both of you. I’ve always wanted both of you!”

Alastor tightened his grip on your waist, his pace faltering slightly. “Lucky for you, my little doe, we love you enough not to punish you properly.”

Love. Did Alastor just say they loved you? Vox’s words fully clicked then.

“Fuck-” You curse, walls spamsing around them as your orgasm crashed over you.

The idea of both of them loving you, and loving you enough that this was the alternative to anything else, sent you over that edge.

“Yeah, just like that.” Vox groaned, his thrusts faltering as he got closer to his own release. “You’re taking us so well, so good.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed with mischievous intent. He quickened his thrusts, causing you to gasp out from the overstimulation. But his focus wasn’t on you for once.

“Cum for me, Vox.” He hissed out, never once faltering in his pace.

“Oh fuck you!” Vox groaned, thrusting into you a few more times before he met his end.

Alastor chuckled softly, lasting only a few more thrusts after Vox. He slammed as deep into you as he could go, hot ropes of cum hitting against your cervix. As Alastor stilled you were able to catch your breath as they held you. Vox pulled from your used cunt, taking a step back as Alastor lowered you down to your feet. He tucked his softening member away, watching Alastor pull from you a moment later. A mix of their seed and your release dripped from you as he did. Alastor released you only for your knees to give out from underneath you. Vox moved forward, effortlessly catching you and bringing you into a bridal carry.

“I got you babydoll. Need some rest after that, hmm?”

You nod, burying your face against Vox’s chest. He flashes Alastor a smug look causing the Radio Demon to roll his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“But after you wake up, little doe. We all have a lot to talk about.” Alastor reminds you. “Punishment aside.”

“I know.” You whisper, closing your eyes and allowing Vox to teleport you through the electricity and into his room.

You felt him place you on his bed, climbing in after you. A moment later the other side of the bed compressed as Alastor joined you. You felt oddly happy that they had found out about one another, this was an improvement.

[narraboths]

i'd like to think you could just walk into a diner in national city and see supergirl (costume and all, no fucks given) and lena luthor making out like teenagers in a corner booth

[Ao3]

The first time Supergirl comes to The Intergalactic, she’s thrown straight through its glass doors by a giant space lizard.

It’s really not how Ellie imagined meeting the city’s superhero. It’s not that she thought she’d actually ever meet Supergirl, least of all at work. Tucked away in a side-street near National City University and surviving in a cramped space, with minimal staff, and decor left from the beginning of the Space Age, The Intergalactic mostly sees harried college students and late-night party-goers in need of some fuel. Alien attacks and billowing capes are usually not on the menu.

She has no time to be disappointed by the circumstances of their chance meeting, though. She cannot feel anything beyond absolute terror, really, given the giant space lizard that just made the Girl of Steel demolish their sleepy burger joint’s entrance.

But then, Supergirl climbs back to her feet as she always does, shoulders squared, arms raised, ready to fight. She winces a little at the damage, shooting an apologetic smile towards Ellie before she’d fly up up and away, dragging the lizard into the sky with her. The sight of it is so fucking cool that for a second, Ellie is even distracted from the absolute wreckage around her.

(Then, her shoes almost catch fire and she’s brought back to the cold, hard, rubble-covered ground of reality.)

Later, when the news reports are loud with praise for another successful Super-save, and Ellie has managed to sweep up most of the broken glass and endured a hysterical call from her boss, Supergirl touches down in front of their doors again.

“Hello,” she waves with a little smile. She still has soot marks on her face, but she stands tall, impossibly dashing. “I’m very sorry for the commotion,” she says, before Ellie could even process the fact that the hero of National City is at her doorstep, again, engaging with her in casual conversation. “I just wanted to check in and see if everyone here was alright.”

“You just fought with an alien lizard,” Ellie blurts out, and Supergirl shrugs, in a hey, just another day on the job kinda way.

“Dracokardosian, actually. Doesn’t matter,” she adds quickly, then plants her hands on her hips. The Super-pose. It makes her shoulders seem even wider, the fabric of her suit straining against her upper arms. Ellie feels giddy. “Listen, I’ll make sure you’ll be reimbursed for the damage, but can I lend a hand with anything?”

“We’re fine, I think. It’s only the storefront that got hit– that you hit. No great damage, no injuries.” Supergirl smiles with palpable relief, and Ellie feels the need to ramble on, to keep her there, to bask in the glory of the superhero a little longer. The smell of still-hot frying oil wafting from the kitchen gives her the prompt before she’d even think about it. “Would you like a burger?”

Supergirl looks at her with a confused frown.

“Aren’t you guys closed up yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can really close right now,” Ellie shrugs, gesturing towards the gaping hole where the diner’s entrance used to be. It earns an amused little snort from Supergirl, just enough of a boost for Ellie to press on, heart beating in her throat. “Plus, you’re the only reason the place is still standing at all and I’d really like to be able to brag about having served Supergirl, like how many places get to do that?“

“Well, there’s this great patisserie on Lamarr Ave,” Supergirl says, forehead crinkling in concentration as she mulls over the answer. “And then my regular Chinese place, and this café in Paris–” She cuts herself off with a grin. “Okay, point taken. I would love one. But mind if I fix your door in the meantime?”

Ellie nods so vehemently that she gives herself a headrush.

“It’s a deal.”

Supergirl touches a hand to her earpiece, speaking low and incomprehensible before she’d speed away again and Ellie saunters off to the kitchen.

Inside, Jay is half-napping over the sink. He wakes from his slumber with dark, bleary eyes and stares in disbelief as Ellie rattles off the order, until she tells him it’s for Supergirl. He laughs first (yeah, and I’m the Virgin Mary), then takes a peek outside where Supergirl now busy welding the new doors using her heat vision, with a swarm of nanites hovering nearby for assistance. She stops for a second to wave at them: Ellie feels her heart fluttering and Jay gets all red and sweaty, rushing back to the kitchen and getting to it with such dedication as if the diner making it into the Michelin Guide depended on it.

By the time he’s done, The Intergalactic is sporting a brand new, shiny pair of doors, and Supergirl is sitting in a booth, excitedly drumming on a table with her fingers. Then, one burger swiftly turns into three, plus six sides of fries, two milkshakes, and some fried onions for good measure, Supergirl wolfing it all down at a speed fitting her superhuman appetite. She still finds the time to entertain Ellie and Jay with details of her fight between bites (his name is Spike, he was just scared), joking around with them with such geniality that makes her seem more like one of the nicer jocks from NCU, not a demigod in a supersuit. She’s sunshine personified. She compliments the food about half a dozen times (Jay blushes so hard that his face ends up looking like a ripe tomato), leaves a tip large enough to foot the bill twice, and even though it’s nearing midnight by the time she steps outside, Ellie feels a heavy pang in her heart to watch her leave. Supergirl smiles and waves them goodbye, and Ellie manages to run outside just as she takes off, yelling after her: 

“See you again!”

She thinks she can see Supergirl wink at her before she speeds away.

-

The second time Supergirl visits the diner, it’s been well over a month since the space lizard incident, and Ellie has honestly given up on ever seeing the Girl of Steel in person again. It’s just past the mid-day rush, the diner mostly emptied out, the staff finally getting a breather. She’s busy cleaning the tables in the back when Lev walks up to her, poking her arm.

“Hey, am I tripping, or is that really Supergirl?”

Ellie turns around at lightning speed, just in time to catch Supergirl leaning against the empty counter with a friendly smile.

"Can I get a booth?” She asks, courteously ignoring the way Lev’s jaw is hanging wide open. “Your burgers smell so fantastic, my mouth has been watering all the way from Metropolis.”

Ellie’s shaking with so much nervous energy that she thinks she might start vibrating like the Flash.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever, I’ll be right with you!”

-

Supergirl is, well, just super. 

Her visits to The Intergalactic are infrequent enough that the place doesn’t get hounded by paps, or Super-fans, or any villain of the week; arriving almost always in off-hours, when the place is almost as empty as the street outside. But her appearances are plenty enough for every single member of the staff to fall head over heels in love with her. She turns out to be just as ridiculously kind and nice as the CatCo fluff pieces would have the public believe: always praising the food, being as courteous with the staff as she is game to take selfies with them. She chats with Lev about their college studies, gives Ellie an air-lift when her car breaks down one night. She makes people smile just by walking through the door.

She’s the best part of the job.

-

When Supergirl turns up with Lena Luthor at her side one day, Ellie’s already so used to the outlandishness of their superhero regular that she’s only moderately shaken to see the most notorious public figure of National City striding into the diner with her.

She still almost bites down on her tongue and trips over, because holy shit, Lena Luthor is a sight. There’s always a touch of unreal about Supergirl’s appearance – maybe it’s the suit, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s an alien, maybe it’s the fact that she always looks like she’s glowing from the inside. Her towering physique and artfully drawn features are awing, but they also seem just right for a superhero.

But Lena Luthor is only an ordinary human, and no ordinary human, all-powerful CEO or not, should look like a Greek goddess personified.

Ellie is so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice at first how Supergirl’s hand is resting on the small of Miss Luthor’s back, how they’re standing so close that their shoulders brush together, Lena Luthor leaning just slightly against the hero.

“Quaint,” she murmurs, low and amused, and though there’s nothing unkind about it, Ellie’s suddenly very aware of how pristine she looks in the middle of their greasy little diner. (Shit, her clothes must be worth more than the whole place.) But then, before she could get flustered, Supergirl snorts, bumping Miss Luthor’s shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Their rapport is so charming that at first, it doesn’t even register with Ellie how downright smitten Lena Luthor’s smile is in response to Supergirl’s teasing.

-

Lena Luthor turns out to be super in her own ways. She’s more reserved than Supergirl, more guarded about her appearances, too, but disarmingly nice all the same. The tabloid headlines screaming ice queen and megalomaniac seem more and more ridiculous with every visit ��� there’s very little that says Mad Luthor about the small, overworked young woman who makes a point of asking about her day and leaves large enough tips that they can refit the whole kitchen with it and fix up the back room.

They keep odd hours those days, though, popping in for early morning coffees, or late, late night snacks. They share a plate more often than not, and the sight of Supergirl stealing a bite off of Lena Luthor’s fork becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence. (In no particular order, so does the following: Lena Luthor’s head resting on Supergirl’s shoulders, eyes fluttered shut; Supergirl leaning forward a little so Lena Luthor can press a goodbye kiss to her cheek before the superhero would fly off with a grin; Lena Luthor wiping some grease from the corner of Supergirl’s mouth with an indescribably fond smile).

It starts feeling like something that’s just meant to be.

-

Ellie doesn’t know whether it’s their first kiss or not when she witnesses it.

She’d never want to pry, either. It’s only by accident that she sees it happen at all. But she does see it, late one night, when Supergirl and Miss Luthor are huddled together in one of the booths in the back.

They look a little tired now – Supergirl’s cape is half off her shoulder, Lena Luthor’s hair let down and a touch messy, jarringly for her usually so put-together appearance – but sweet, too, as they always do, and utterly enamored. Supergirl’s hand is cradling Lena’s chin, Lena’s hands are buried in her golden mane, their lips pressing together gently, both of them smiling radiantly, lost in their own world. Then Lena presses forward a little, pushing Supergirl against her seat, and Ellie turns away with a burning face and starts scrubbing a table so hard that she risks putting a hole through the damn thing, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the breathless, overjoyed laugh echoing through the empty room.

-

It is, strictly speaking, not an issue that National City’s power couple has picked your place of work to be their makeout spot. Supergirl’s still the nicest person alive and Miss Luthor’s tipping habits have only grown more generous. They just take the booth that’s the farthest in the back, Ellie tries not to bother them too much, and if someone catches a glimpse of a red cape or a striking jawline, an emphatic glare and Just be cool, man usually does the trick.

Heroes, they’re just like us.

[solarmorrigan]

Hello there! I’m not entirely sure if you’re still doing the whole angsty-ish prompt thing, but if you are could please consider doing, “Shit, are you bleeding!?”, with steddie and Steve being the one bleeding?

Maybe Steve never actually took care of his bat wounds and they reopened or smth??

If not then that’s totally fine! Feel free to ignore :)

THIS IS VERY LATE, I'M SORRY. I know you sent this request months ago, and believe it or not, I didn't forget about it! It haunted me. (Not really, but I did keep it in mind, and I finally managed to get a little thing out for it! I hope this is a little like what you had in mind?)

[CW: blood, mentions of injury]

-

They’ve done it.

They’ve actually fucking done it.

They pulled off the whole stupid plan, no one is dead (except for Vecna), they’re right-side up, the gate has resealed itself – it’s over.

They won.

And now, there’s just one thing left to do.

Nothing official, really, just something Eddie had promised himself he would do if he actually managed to survive (odds hadn’t seemed to be in his favor at the time, so he hadn’t expected to have to follow through, but he’d also promised himself there would be no more running away). In a way, he’d promised Steve, too, so he thinks he’d better deliver.

(At least, he hopes that’s what he’d communicated to Steve; he hopes that’s what that meaningful look and that significant nod that passed between them had meant and that he’s not about to get his ass kicked after surviving the siege of a bat tornado in a mirror version of his trailer in a fucked up alternate dimension.)

Eddie gives Dustin one last affectionate pat on the back, skirts around where Robin is babbling something enthusiastically at Nancy, who looks a little too shellshocked to do much more than listen with an almost disbelieving smile, and makes it over to where Steve is standing by the front door. He’s got his back to the group, hunched over a little as he fiddles with something beneath his unzipped jacket, but he perks up the moment he hears Eddie’s voice.

“Steve,” Eddie calls, more quietly than the last time, but with no less gravity, and just like last time, Steve turns back, his gaze falling heavily on Eddie.

Before he can talk himself out of it, and horribly aware that this isn’t really the best time or place (but then again, if not here, then where? If not now, when?), Eddie steps closer, steps right into Steve’s space, cups one hand to his ash-smudged cheek, and leans in to kiss him.

He barely even has a moment to wonder if he’s made a monumental mistake before Steve is kissing him back, tilting his head and pressing closer and moving his lips against Eddie’s like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. If the rest of the trailer has fallen conspicuously silent, Eddie doesn’t notice.

The kiss doesn’t last long (not as long as Eddie would like), but that’s alright; it feels like there will probably be more.

“Wanted to do that earlier,” Eddie murmurs as they pull apart. “But I didn’t want you to think it was some kind of last-ditch wish fulfillment because I thought I was going to die. Figured now would be better.”

“Now is good,” Steve says softly; his eyes are a little hazy, a little unfocused (and damn, had Eddie done that?), but they find Eddie’s without trouble. "Now is great."

And then it’s Steve’s hands on Eddie’s face, curled carefully at the edges of his jaw, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s only the feeling of something wet sliding across Eddie’s skin that distracts him and makes him pull back. Steve’s hands fall away, and Eddie reaches up to swipe over his jaw and looks down at his hand.

His heart thumps when he sees red.

“Am I–?” He reaches up again, rubbing his fingers across his skin again, but he feels no pain, finds no injury. “Are you–?” Eddie looks now at Steve’s hand, heart jumping again when he sees more of the same smeared across Steve’s fingers. “Shit, are you bleeding?”

Steve frowns, reaching up with his clean hand to try to swipe the mess away with his thumb. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but he sounds distant now, a little breathless in a way that Eddie can’t blame on any kiss.

Eddie reaches out and spreads his hands under Steve’s jacket, pushing it open to get a good look at him, and finds the damning dark spots spreading across the fabric of the t-shirt underneath.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Shit, shit, Steve–”

“Might’ve pulled something,” Steve murmurs, “fighting Vecna.”

“You think?” Eddie is aware that he’s getting a bit shrill, but he thinks that he really can’t be blamed. “Wheeler!”

Nancy is there in an instant, and Robin is at Steve’s side just as he starts to wobble. She gets an arm around his back and he hisses, reminding them all that the bat bites on his sides aren’t the only wounds he’d sustained.

And then Nancy is barking instructions, and Robin is talking, quiet and rapid-fire at Steve as they sit him down on the couch, and Dustin is demanding to know what’s wrong (and if Eddie thought he’d been getting shrill–), and Eddie only manages to get him out of the vicinity by telling him to go call an ambulance.

“He’s gonna be fine, Henderson, but we need help,” Eddie says firmly, giving him a shove in the direction of the phone. “We’ve got him, he’ll be fine.”

And Eddie hopes to God, to Satan, to who-the-fuck-ever it is he’s supposed to be praying to at this point, that he isn’t lying to the kid.

He’s just gotten Steve – he can’t lose him now.

[jolalibrary]

no need for mistletoe

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: all of that led to this. The now. Eyes staring at him as he stands in front of you in a moss-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, curls not buried by a hat. “Hi.” “Hi,” you reply, before he’s ushering you in.

warnings: fluff, soft!frankie, first kisses, christmas vibes, lil’ flirting. brief mention of Frankie being a dad. wordcount: 2.6k

to @nothoughtsjustmeds - merry christmas from me, to you. you gave such amazing prompts, i tried to include as many as i could, and here it is. i hope you love this as much as i heart you.

When the cab comes to a stop, you find yourself outside of a very nice house, on a very quiet street.

Dropping your gaze down to the address on your phone, swallowing. Your nerves suddenly begin doing their thing to your gut again. Working. Gnawing at your insides as you flick your gaze back up to the number on the mailbox.

That’s when you take in the little ‘Santa Stop Here’ sign stuck into the perfectly maintained grass, the faux snow footprints which lead up to the porch and the array of twinkling lights that set this one out against all the others.

And, honestly, it’s just what you imagined from his home.

Not that it stopped the nerves from swirling, doubling up inside you—apprehension having begun to mount itself on top of worry.

Taking a deep breath, you pull out some notes, paying with a smile, before stepping out with a keep the change—and a Merry Christmas—and a slam of the cab door.

It takes everything within you not to yank the door open and get back inside. Even more not to turn and look at the driver, to not show how nervous you were.

Instead, you stare ahead. Steadying yourself as tyres crunched gravel, silence washed itself over you.

And then you were alone. No way of turning back—not without a phone call and another long wait.

Glancing around, you hover your eyes over the homes on either side of the one you’re standing outside of. Noticing the differences in how they’re dressed, how subtly was more one style and perfectionism the other.

This house looked entirely different. And, even if your fingers shook as you clutched your phone, a smile still managed to cut through. Your mind concocting images of the boys all banding together to hang lights, orders being flung—reminiscent of when they’re all attempting to train Benny (all at fucking once).

Biting down on your lip, you blow out a nervous breath—because you’re here now. No point in dwelling. You just need to walk up, rap your knuckles on the door and say hello. Simple. Easy.

Yet, it takes another minute to place one foot in front of the other. Hand stuffing your phone into your pocket as you—the heels of your boots catching on the stone path, cautious not to smudge the prints that lead the way to his front door.

It had Benny who had told you the more the merrier. But would more mean you?

You who barely knew much about them. Outside the version of them you see at the gym.

The one you had inherited, been given, had handed to you—it’s what your dad would have wanted being said when the keys—all heavy and scary—were placed in your palm. No business knowledge, just given the tip to be good to the regulars—the regulars mainly being Benny, his brother and his friend.

It had begun with letting him in at odd hours. Then you’d gotten Will’s number, for when he was in town, for when he needed access to the gym to help his brother train.

Then, when their visits became more routine, that’s when you began staying later to do “admin”—code for wanting to be around just in case.

The just-in-case is the reason half your wardrobe is dumped on your bed and your nerves are frantic from the cab ride over.

Teeth nipping at your lip, you second-guess the bottle in your hand—the little paper bag of treats you’d managed to grab before the store closed. You begin to re-question your outfit, whether you were over or underdressed, whether he’d be mad that his friend just invited you—

A flurry of thoughts, all rushing around like snow in a storm. All landing, thickening at your feet, burying you deeper and deeper in doubts and worries until you’re shrouded in light.

It’s warm, almost pearlescent as it illuminates the wooden porch you’re standing on.

It was cliche, very romance-novel the way the two of you met. Him having stepped through the gym door, lit up by sunlight, hands stuffing his t-shirt into the back of his jeans. All broad, loose curls and dark features—and a shy smile that only slowly broke out across his face.

From there it was little waves. Your eyes linger on his fingers, the length, the way they appear worn, weathered—and sometimes accompanied by a band-aid, sometimes close to skin colour and others with cartoons on.

It’s a while until names are shared and exchanged. Until you can put together an idea of the man who always wears a sun-scorched hat and clothing from a colour palette you’ve named him.

Then, you learn little things. That he likes listening to vinyls, that he has a son, that he likes the idea of working out but prefers to keep fit by building things.

What kind of things? Anything. Anything? Anything.

It’s how the conversation first began when he’d offered to build you a bookcase. A small one—easily tucked away behind the counter you’re often perched at and he’s often leaning against. Pointing out that he always sees you with a book, and that you must have a pile of them at your feet.

That’s when you learned he was astute, too.

All of that led to this. The now.

Eyes staring at him as he stands in front of you in a moss-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, curls not buried by a hat.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, before he’s ushering you in.

You hear the laughter from another room before the door is closed. Frankie hovers, taking the wine and the paper bag as you slide off your coat. His face flushed, eyes staring at you before you watch him swallow, mouth opening, but you beat him to it—

“Thank you… for not minding that Benny invited me over.”

Nodding, he smiles. “Well. I asked him to invite you.”

“Oh?”

Looking at his feet, he smiles—soft, more sly. “M’really glad you could make it.”

"Well, Merry Christmas Eve?"

Licking his lips, he seems to swallow. "Merry Christmas Eve."

There’s something intimate about photographs, especially in frames dotted around a home.

A sea of memories displayed, the stories there, but not quite heard. Not until someone is willing to share them, to animate the frame and allow it to make sense.

Your fingers trace the air close to them, lingering on unworried smiles, spotting the beginning signs of the lines you’ve come to admire.

In your wildest fantasies, you never thought you’d be here. Not as the hours ticked on, not even when the brothers bid their goodbyes, and you suggested going with them.

You don’t have to. No? No.

So you didn’t. Hovering in the living room as Frankie bids them goodbye. You hear the sounds of claps on the back, and boisterous goodbyes quickly hushed before they exchange plans for tomorrow. You’re distantly aware the door closes, and that there are approaching footsteps, but you don’t drag your eyes from the set of photos on the shelves.

“I’m sorry for… them.”

Grinning, you sip from your glass. ���You don’t have to. I like them.”

Nodding, Frankie folds his arms, leaning in the doorway, your fingers still ever so close to one of the photo frames—one of five men, him in the middle, three out of the five recognised, the other two a mystery.

“Your son is adorable,” you say, glancing up at him, finding his eyes creasing as a grin adorns his face. “He has your smile.”

Letting the words wash over him, you take another sip, letting the taste coat your tongue, and smother over your bottom lip—all the while holding his gaze. The one unmoving, all unwilling to tear itself away from yours. It charges the air, and makes it vibrate. Forces the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up, and knots something in your stomach. All as heat blooms across the rest of you, up your neck, smearing itself across your chest.

Because he’s given you this stare a few times. But, never for this long.

Not this constantly, either.

It hasn’t ever made your throat feel this dry, not able to quench it even as you pour more liquid down it; it hasn’t ever quite made your ears burn, always just cheeks.

“You want to see my garden?” Narrowing your eyes, you watch him walk backwards, heading to his coat hook. “Heard you can see a lot of stars tonight.”

Smiling, you nod. Simple, fucking easily. Taking the jumper outstretched to you—fingers brushing over his, just lightly, a spark of something streaming up your wrist as his lips part.

A part of you, one full of longing and need, hopes he felt it too—wishing for it. More so, as you pull his jumper over your head, trying not to noticeably inhale as the warmth settles on your skin, and finds a home in your bones. You’re coated in him, both physically in his clothing and his scent. The one which lingers when he leaves your desk and you have always wished to bottle.

“C’mon,” he whispers, a twinge of nervousness to his tone.

So you do follow. Jacket under his arm as he grabs two bottles from the side—your hand placing your glass down, twirling the ends of his jumper around your fingers, letting him lead the way out, his foot propping open the door so you can head out first.

And he’s not wrong.

The sky is littered with them, soft twinkles thousands of miles away, looking down on the two of you as your warm breath makes spirals appear in front of you—slow wisps of steam that carry themselves to the few clouds floating past.

“You doing much tomorrow?”

You don’t know why you ask it, cringing inwardly. Because tomorrow is the twenty-fifth, and it’s obvious, even more so the more you think about it, that he’ll have his son. Likely to be somewhere for dinner from the conversation overheard.

Frankie steps closer, shoulder practically close to yours, recalling what you’d overheard, layering more information—sharing how he’ll pick his son up at lunchtime, bring him back to open presents, and then they’ll be off to Benny’s. He goes overboard, surprise, surprise.

Your laugh fills the air, somehow unsurprised until Frankie asks you what you’re doing.

“Um, well. I’m usually alone for Christmas—well, except for the other gym goers who also hate the holidays.”

Snorting, Frankie slides the jacket in his hand around your shoulders. Your eyes glance from the swings and slide to meet his gaze.

Iit’s warm when you do. All warm cocoa, digging into you, soaking you in something you’re trying to translate. Whatever it is, it makes your heart flutter in your chest, forces heat to rise up your neck again—kissing your cheeks, your ears.

“You should…” his hand rises, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighs. “Shouldn’t be alone.”

Rolling your lips, you gaze back over his garden—the small space you imagine only looks this good because of him. A small paradise, perfectly painted. Lit up by more strung lights and little lanterns plunged into different flowerbeds.

You smile at the swingset—the one made from mismatched wood. Your thoughts concoct an image of him building it, brushing his curls back from his forehead.

“You look really pretty,” he whispers.

And the words make your head turn, tentative, wary.

“Wish there was mistletoe.”

Your heart pounds and it distils the nerves. You don’t have to force it, it bleeds naturally over your lips—a smile which smudges over your face, and makes your hand place your bottle down on the ledge.

It’s quiet—oh, so quiet—as you turn to face him fully. Body turned, heart thundering in your chest, all suddenly empowered, awake, bold.

The thrum of one chance dancing with the blood in your veins.

“You don’t… you don’t need mistletoe, Frankie.”

“No?”

Shaking your head, you let out a breath.

Letting it fog the air, swirling itself out into the night as you clutch his jacket around your shoulders, watching him move.

It’s breathless the way he says okay. It’s swallowed by the soft slant of his mouth over yours. It’s instant, the way warmth spreads out through you. Made all the more powerful by accompanying fairy-light touches to your skin, allowing your body to curl into him.

Then, it deepens, your lips finding his with more purpose, more intention. His palms cup your cheeks, and like his gaze, his mouth is like fire. It rushes into your mouth, filling your chest and fanning its way out to your outer edges. It’s dizzying, magical—almost worthy of a foot rising off the ground or floating away into the clouds.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, balling it in your fingers as it turns messy, needy—all heated and desperate.

Then, you both part. Barely a slither of space between both your faces, his eyes opening, smothering you in something which makes a tangled coil of need tighten inside of you.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a while.”

His fingers lightly skate over your cheek, thumb drawing light circles on your chin.

“You got any plans for the 27th?”

Shaking your head, you smile. “Just the gym.”

“Okay. I’m taking you out on our second date.”

Frowning, you begin to grin. “Second?”

Dropping his hand from your face, Frankie places a chaste kiss on your lips. One that makes you want to chase him for more, but the growing gap following it prevents you.

“Yeah, the first is me going inside, grabbing us a plate with some pizza on, and sitting under the stars. If… if that sounds okay?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It sounds perfect.”

He grins, hand brushing over his chin as he takes a step back. Your hand digging for your phone, the screen illuminating, as you hear him pull open the back door of his place.

“Oh, and Frankie?” His eyes look over at you, wide, beautiful—a mixture of sudden worry and dread filling them. “Merry Christmas.”

Turning to flash him your phone, the minute just passing midnight, you smile—removing the fear in his eyes, making them widen, and grow.

He thinks. Ponders.

Can see it in the way his eyes narrow and a line appears between his brows. Then, the door in his hand meets the frame, and the soles of his boots hammer on the decking, before he closes the gap to you within four strides, your face in his hands, lips pressed to yours.

“A kiss from you is the best gift I could have ever have gotten,” he whispers, between stealing your breath.

Swallowing, you roll your lips—tasting the beer from his lips on your own. “And a date with you is all I wished for.”

an: i really want a pizza under the stars with frankie now

[redrose10]

Prompt number 13 & 29 with yoongi worrying over female reader that is not in her best state mentally.Its okay if you're not comfortable doing it tho, no pressure🫡

Here you go! Hope this is okay.

#13 I thought you were dead

#29 I’m not going anywhere

Warnings: body issues, self esteem issues, depression, hints of suicide

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Another day another headline suggesting your boyfriend is involved in another dating scandal that doesn’t include you. Over the years Yoongi has been linked to just about every idol imaginable. At first you didn’t care. You knew there was no truth behind the rumors and that he loved you more than any thing.

Then as time went on and he got more famous and the camera was on him more you wondered if maybe there was a part of him that regretted having you in his life. Maybe he’d rather be with one of those idols or a model who had flawless skin and perfect bodies, who were always styled to perfection. Maybe he’d rather be with someone who was talented, who was more in his world and knew what it was like to be famous.

Over time all these thought started to wear you down. No matter how many times he told you he loved you or that you were beautiful. No matter how many times he said you were the only one for him or all the times he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. There was still that little voice in the back of your head telling you that it was all an act. One day he’d come forward and end it shattering your world.

And as you sat staring at the article tears began welling up in your eyes. This particular woman that he was linked to was not only a model, but an avid basketball fan and also recently received her masters in psychology. She seemed made for Yoongi.

You on the other hand couldn’t name a single basketball player and were close to being kicked out of school as you stared at the failing grade you got on your own psychology test this week. It was hard to study when you felt like your world was falling apart and all you wanted to do was stay in your bed and wait for everything to just disappear.

Yoongi knew about your mental health struggles, more than you thought he did. You didn’t know about the camera he had installed in the kitchen just so he could check in and make sure you didn’t grab anything you shouldn’t have. You didn’t know that all the times he came home for a few minutes because he “forgot” something were just lies so he could check on you without you knowing why and when he couldn’t be there, all the surprise visits from his parents or brother were all orchestrated by him. You didn’t know about all of the news articles that he had stopped by paying the publications handsomely with his own money just to try and protect you as much as he could.

And when he couldn’t stop them like this newest one he made sure to check on you extra. Make sure you were doing okay and make sure you knew that it was all lies. The model he was photographed with is actually dating one of their managers and he just happened to be walking at the right angle for the media to get their suspicious looking photo.

The only problem was, was that you weren’t answering your phone. You were really good about answering your phone and even if you did miss a call you’d call him right back because you knew how worried he’d get. He checked the camera and saw you leave which worried him. He checked the time again to make sure you weren’t in class or at work and decided to call again.

As soon as his meeting was over he grabbed his phone and called you again without an answer. Frantically he started gathering his things to head home when his phone started ringing. The number said unknown which he’d normally ignore and let the voicemail take care of it but he answered this one on the second ring.

“Hello is this Min Yoongi?”

“Yes, whose is this?”

“Hello, I’m calling from National General Hospital. You are listed as an emergency contact for L/N Y/N. Is that correct?”

“Yes what happened to her? Is she okay?”

“Sir I can’t go into any details over the phone, but we ask that you please come to the hospital immediately.”

“O-okay”

Yoongi dropped his phone. His knees trembled and his legs felt weak as he collapsed on the floor. The other members rushed over to check on him. Through bits and pieces of mumbled words they managed to figure out that you were in the hospital and Yoongi needed to get there. They called for a driver who was quickly waiting at the front entrance.

The entire ride to the hospital Yoongi felt guilty. Replaying over and over in his mind what he could’ve done differently. Maybe he should’ve quit the group the first time you went through this. You promised him you’d never do it again, but he never should’ve even presented you the opportunity.

The car wasn’t even at a full stop before his feet were on the ground sprinting towards the information desk. He got your room number and made his way there.

As he entered the room he felt like his chest was going to explode. You were laying there hooked up to all kinds of monitors and wires. Your body was covered in cuts and bruises. He sat down on the bed carefully resting his head on your stomach.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. This is all my fault. I never should’ve brought you into this. I love you so much and I can’t loose you. You can’t leave. I want to get married and have a family with you. Only you. Please forgive me.”

Yoongi startled when he felt someone gently run their fingers through his hair.

“Y/N you’re okay? I was so scared. I thought you were dead.”, he began to sob.

“Yoongi I’m okay. Really. It’s not your fault either. It’s not your fault that jerk was driving drunk and hit me.”

You thought that would calm him, but he only cried harder.

You lifted his face to look at you before you continued, “I was really upset about the article and just a lot of stuff. I’ll admit that but I’ve learned that when I get that way I need to come to you. You’re my comfort. You get me out of that dark place. So I needed to see you and wanted to surprise you. I was walking to the store to get us some snacks when he ran me over in the crosswalk. Then I woke up here and now things are even better because you’re here.”

Yoongi pulled himself up to be closer to you, “I love you so much Y/N. Please don’t ever leave me.”

You smiled grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[lightlycareless]

I’m sorry if this is a weird question. It’s totally cool if you just delete this if it is but when faced with another guy bothering Y/N, would he be the type to punch a guy out, intimidate them, or talk out of it(y’know that suave way of staking claim so to speak) :3

Hello anon!!!

Ah yes, the ask I thought I hallucinated by some strange reason 🤣 like, I believed I already posted the answer to this but I didn't???

Either way, this gave me the perfect opportunity to do a bit of angst :) a little "Naoya and Y/N realize being together isn't all rainbows"

warnings: highschool au, kind of. slight mentions of violence. you really worry for naoya. he has yet a lot to learn about being a good boyfriend. it's the early stages of the relationship.

Enjoy!

Honestly, this moment… is something everyone around you awaited.

I mean, Naoya is brash, stubborn, rude, selfish, nobody gets along with him, doesn't have that many friends, so on and so forth.

Thus, it was only natural that he'd eventually rub someone the wrong way…

Or be rubbed the wrong way.

Your boyfriend, as stated, was a threat by himself, but when you were added into the mix, it's like all his foul traits doubled. Not to you, of course not, never to the only other person he considered worthy of him.

But towards those foolish enough to think they still had a chance with you after making his claim. To defy the heir of the Zen'in is to have a death wish—wasn’t that common knowledge by now?!

Yet, to those ignorant of this fact, he is nothing but patient enough to remind.

“—Naoya!”

It happened all so quickly. One moment you were being pestered by a faceless student, insisting you’d leave your boyfriend for someone better, a bit more grounded, implying himself to be that person…

And the other, you were crying, heart thundering and hands trembling as the horrifying sight of Naoya beating that same guy unfolded before you.

The fight did not go without retaliation of course, your instigator never intending to take your boyfriend’s punches without retaliation, which lead you to shriek when a particular sharp blow landed against Naoya’s left side of his face, prompting you to run to their side and do all in your power to separate them—

To no avail.

“Stop it, Naoya!” You cried, helplessly trying to get them away from one another; but you never could compare to his strength. Less when he was determined to continue so. “Please! St—stop! You're— you're going to— you’re going to kill him!”

“What is going on??” Nanami exclaims. It wasn't his intention to get near the commotion, always one to avoid trouble whenever possible, but upon hearing your frightened voice, he ran as fast as possible to your aid. “Y/N!”

“Ken—Kento—! You— You have to stop them!” You wailed, frantically tugging at this arm and evoking a sense of urgency. “They're going to—they’re going to kill each other if you don’t!”

The ones that ultimately manage to separate the two are Suguru and Satoru, just before the teachers stepped in, but not enough to prevent them from being reprimanded by them, taking them to the principal’s office to discuss their rightful punishment—regardless of who provoked who.

“After my family sues you, you're fucking dead!”

“Ha! Do you not know who I am?! I'd like to see you try!” Naoya guffaws.

“Stop it already!” Yaga exclaimed “You're already knees deep in trouble, the last thing you both need is to be expelled!”

Ultimately, the threat of being away from you is enough to keep Naoya willing. One would think that he'd worry more about his family and the issue this small disturbance would bring, but truth is that he's gotten out of worse predicaments: him getting into an altercation with a nobody is not something that would prevent the elders, or him, from sleeping.

Though your prolonged silence, the cold judgment imposed by your piercing eyes, and the subtle annoyance displayed in your touch would; feeling tiny for the first time in his life before you, even when you were so attentively tending to his wounds once dismissed.

“Why are you so quiet, princess? Don’t tell me I scared ya’?” Naoya begins, cutting through the awkward silence settling between the two with a teasing tone he hopes would make light of the situation—make you forget of the blood curling screams you let out when he was entangled with that irrelevant kid who’d more likely disappear tomorrow, and move on…

But oh, how wrong he’d be to choose that path. Make fun of your poor heart.

“What? Thought I wouldn’t win? You know me better than—”

“Is this what it is to you? A joke?” You sternly state, stopping tending his wounds and subsequently quieting Naoya up.

“A joke?” Naoya repeats. “A joke would be him thinking he could win against—"

“Seriously, Naoya?! Is that all you have to say?!” You cry, beginning to crack. “Why must you always take it a competitive thing??”

“Ah, so what was I supposed to do? Let him beat me??” Naoya countered.

“There you go again, taking my words out of context! I didn’t even say that!” you whined.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve given me much to work on, princess.” He scowls. “Why are you even so angry? If anything, I should be the one upset because I got hurt for you, and this is the thanks I get!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?!” you gasp, offended as tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. “Was I the one that wanted this—this fight to happen? Did I tell you I wanted to see you get hurt?!”

“It’s kind of expected, don’t you think?” He states, making your eyes go wide. “We’re sorcerers, we’re bound to get hurt—if you didn’t want that then maybe you should’ve considered a different career—

Or a different boyfriend.”

“Is that—is that what you’re going to go with?” you firmly ask, as if giving him one last time to reconsider his words…

Which he did after you set aside the first aid kit, standing up with all intentions of leaving the room that he realized how gravely he’d messed up, quicky to grab your arm and pull you back to him; and though the wounds of his fight made it hurt, more so since you struggled against him, he did not relent.

“Wait, Y/N, please—That came out wrong, I didn’t mean—”

“And what did you mean, Naoya?” you say, with a trembling voice that made his heart sting even more. He’s just gotten out of one altercation to walk right into another one—how delightful. “If it isn’t to mock me for worrying?!”

“No, I wasn’t.” Naoya says, tightening his hold on you, as much as he could anyways. He just… he just didn’t want you to leave, not like this. Not when he needed you the most. “I would never!”

You don’t respond, there wasn’t much to say when his words didn’t match his actions.

“…I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“But you did.” You responded, and now he was able to hear the tears that had begun to slide down your cheeks. “You… you got into that awful fight instead of letting him go and almost got yourself expelled—no, worse! Killed!”

“But it didn’t happen, you know? You… you called for help, and we stopped!”

“Because you wouldn’t listen!” You wept, turning around and taking a good look at his face. Naoya wishes you hadn’t, however, because seeing you cry just broke his heart into a million pieces. “Neither of you!”

“Y/N—”

“You were like… like an animal out there.” You added. “Nothing seemed to snap you out of trance, and I—I got so scared—!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you either.”

“Does it even matter? You said so yourself, this is what sorcerers are supposed to do.”

“No, you know what I meant—”

“No. I don’t. I really don’t know what you meant.”

…

…

…

“I did this to protect you.” Naoya quietly adds. “I just… got so angry seeing you being bothered by that idiot, that I… I needed to do something. I needed to get him away from you!”

“…Why can’t you understand this isn’t what I wanted?” You sniffle. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, no matter the reason why.”

“I know, I know you didn’t—”

“Then… why did you do it? What made you so angry, enough to beat him up and risk your career?”

The thought of being undeserving of you. Naoya concluded. Because his words had unwittingly struck a nerve, a thought he’s tried his hardest to push deep within the confines of his mind, but until he makes amends with himself, he’ll never be able to escape that fear.

The notion that perhaps there is someone better out there for you… and that person isn’t himself.

And after the way he’s made you cry, such bitter tears… perhaps that was the truth.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” Naoya quietly concludes, making your eyes widen once more. “So I will never hurt you again.”

“Naoya, that’s—that’s not what I want!” you gasp, heart clenching at the prospect of him leaving you. “Not at all!”

“What good of a boyfriend could I be if I all I do ends up hurting you?”

“And you think that leaving me wouldn’t do just that??” you fret. “That living a life without you won’t make me miserable?!”

“It seems I already do…”

“N—No! I don’t—I don’t want that! I—I can’t allow it!” you sob, immediately wrapping your arms around him. “I just got you… I don’t want to lo—lose you…!”

Now with tears in his eyes, Naoya tightly embraces you, pulling you as close as possible as he reassures your fears away.

“Princess…” Naoya breathes, cupping your face and making you look to him. “It’ll take a whole lot for me to ever leave you. Probably the end of the world—but you’ll never lose me, ever.”

“You don’t—you don’t know how awful it felt to not be able to do anything!” you confess. “I… I tried to get him off you but I—I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t protect you!”

“No, no, Y/N—That’s my job. I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”

“But you—what about you? What if you need me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Leave all the heavy lifting to me, and you…” Naoya smiles, intertwining his hands with yours. “You can patch me up after, eh? Heal me up.”

“Nao—Naoya.” You sniffle, lips trembling as tears continued to flood your face. “Promise me you—promise me you’ll always be careful… please.”

“I promise.” He says, taking your hands to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. “Though I doubt someone as talented as me might need to make such promises—it’s a given.”

“Don’t be silly…” you murmur, he chuckles. “As long as you’re a sorcerer, I’ll always worry…”

“Good thing I have my mochi to take care of me, hm? Have me in her thoughts while I’m away.” Naoya smiles.

“You better not come back too roughed up, then. Or I—Or I won’t be able to help much…”

“Not that I need much, your kisses are sufficient enough to make me feel much—ah, shit, princess?!” Naoya gasps, startled by the stinging sensation of the alcohol-soaked cotton pressed against his skin. “Should’ve given me a warning, at least!”

“I thought you only needed my kisses?” You gently tease, he frowns. “Sorry, I just needed to clean you up before you do anything else, you started bleeding again.”

“…Fine, I guess.” Naoya pouts, hissing whenever feeling the alcohol against his wounds.

“What will happen with… him, by the way?”

“I don’t know, he’s getting expelled I guess.” Naoya shrugs. “I’ll make it happen if not.”

“Naoya…”

“What? He was bothering you—think I’m going to let that slide? No one annoys my princess outside of me.”

“… Thank you, for protecting me, really.” You eventually murmur, putting away everything once done. You then lean forward, placing a chaste kiss over his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little mochi.” Naoya smiles, kissing you once more. “My sweet damsel in distress, are you going to nurse me until I’m all better?”

“Don’t call me that—and do I have another choice?”

He snickers. “I guess not, but you wouldn’t want it any other way, would you?”

You smile.

“No, I guess not.”

…

…

…

“I wouldn’t mind if you dressed up as a nurse too, you know? Heard it helps for a faster recovery.”

“Don’t push it…

…

…

…

here, at least.”

Naoya smirks. Maybe he should get a bit roughed up once in a while.

Yes he'd beat up someone for you, naturally. let's not forget his go-to solution in grave situations is killing someone lol.

Anyways, I hope you liked this little something!! It's kind of refreshing to write the Naoya that has yet to learn how to approach you; like, I know I tend to write him perfect in certain aspects, but he was once a... brat, I guess haha. He doesn't know how to treat people, less the one he loves! We're bound to see more of this flawed Naoya very early in the relationship and I LOVE IT hehehe. I wonder what other stumbles I can write...?

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!!

[cissyenthusiast010155]

1,12,63 prompts with bottom or switch lesso

Caught in Your Web ~Younger!Bottom!Leonora Lesso xFem Dominatrix!Reader ~College AU

Summary— College AU where Clarissa and her friends go out clubbing, and Clarissa drags her roommate, Leonora with her. What Leonora doesn’t expect is Reader, the caretaking, mysterious bartender… Anon Response— Hi hi hi anon!! Thank you for the request! I really got into this fic, hope you enjoy ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#1. “You think you can top me?”

#12. “Oh my... I’m... uh... speechless..”

#63. “I’m… I’m afraid I might hurt/break you…”

Warnings: implied NSFW, implied smut, implied bdsm themes, little age gap (all legal), little angst, fluff, kissing, alcohol consumption, teasing, flustering, dom/sub implied relations, top/bottom talk, implied future bdsm/smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

The clubs music was ringing in Leonora’s ears as Dovey dragged the redhead in and through the raging crowd. Clarissa pulled Leonora to a corner table, where a couple of Clarissa’s friend where already waiting for them.

Dover’s girls screamed in delight as Clarissa came to the standing table, Leonora behind her. They said their giggling hellos and how are yous, before Clarissa introduced Leonora to the group.

“Girls… this is my roommate, Leo!!” Clarissa exclaimed, showing Leonora off to the table of squealing young women.

Clarissa’s girls all greeted Leonora, but then quickly moved on to hushed gossip as well as the agreed decision to acquire some shots.

Leonora rolled her eyes slightly and rolled her eyes. One of the girls was quick to go grab the first of many round of shots from the bartender, returning to the girls and passing the liquid courage out.

Leonora grumbled as she took the shot being passed to her. Clarissa looked her to Leo, giving her a firm look saying ‘C’mon be cool, these are my friends’.

Leonora rolled her eyes again before downing her shot with the rest of the group. This routine went on for what felt like hours. The girls would gossip for a while, then get more shots, then gossip again, then shots…

After the fifth or six round, Leonora was ready to throw up. She had never drank this much tequila before… She managed to get away and stumble up to the bar, sitting on a stool and looking at you in desperation.

You finished making a cocktail for some rando, noticing the desperate look in Leonora’s eyes. You immediately came over to Leonora, the bar separating the two of you, to make sure she was okay.

“Hey, Darling. Are you alright, can I get you anything?” You asked the redhead.

She keeled over her seat a little, wrapping her arms around her stomache.

“Oh God…” Leonora groaned, suddenly getting the urge to vomit.

You immediately recognized that drunken look and were quick to grab a bucket and hand it to the woman. Leonora took it quickly and emptied out the contents of her stomache into it with a long groan.

Aftewards, she felt slightly better, but not completely relieved. Leonora looked back at you, mumbling a thank you, and offered the bucket back.

“No no, keep it, ‘hun. I have a feeling you’ll need it again.” You reassured the redhead.

Leonora pursed her lips together and nodded.

“Here, let me get you some cold water…” You told her, being cut off by another customer before you could call the woman another pet name.

You swiftly made the person’s drink, before grabbing the redhead and ice water, and sliding it over to her.

“Thank you…” Leonora breathed out, slowly sipping the water.

“Of course, no problem, babe.” You comforted her, “The name’s Y/N.”

This made Leonora blush lightly. But she immediately masked it.

“I’m Leonora…” she spoke, accompanied by a light groan.

You gave Leonora a smile and told her that you’d serve some other customers and be back to check on her soon. She have you another thanks and continued sipping her water.

To be honest, you had noticed Leonora when she had been dragged into the club. You had watched her stand uncomfortably with that group of straight, preppy college girls. You had rolled your eyes when she was made of take those shots. And you weren’t surprised when she’d come stumbling to you after that much tequila.

You helped a handful of customers with their drinks, having to cut off a couple people as well as the night went on, eventually making it back to Leonora.

“How you doing, ‘Nora…? Can I call you ‘Nora?” You asked the woman.

The nickname made the redhead smile a little. She nodded.

“Mm okay… You were right. I did need the bucket again. Multiple times. Thanks…” Leonora breathed out in thanks.

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Anytime. How are you feeling…? Need more water?”

“Sick…” Leonora groaned, “More water would be great”

You chuckled, “Yea that makes sense. I saw you taking those peer pressure shots like there was no tomorrow…”

Leonora looked away at your words. She didn’t want to think about those girls. They hadn’t even noticed her absence.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to lower the mood…” you comforted, putting your hand on hers on the bar and squeezing it in reassurance.

Leonora met your again, smiling lightly, and nodding.

“No you’re right…” she breathed out.

You pulled your hand away, and Leonora found herself missing your touch.

“I’ll get you that water, sweetheart.” You said, “And I’m here if you need anything else.”

Leonora nodded once more and yet again thanked you. You got the woman another water, then having to serve more of the other customers again.

All while doing so, you kept side glancing back to Leonora. She certainly was your type… She was naturally a beauty. You could tell she was fierce. And smart. And she looked damn good in that dress…

But you put your personally feelings aside. You had a job to do, and she was also so drunk, she was sick.

Throughout the rest of the night, Leonora stayed in the corner stool of the bar, only getting up for bathroom breaks or vomiting into the bucket. You two got into a routine of you bringing her more water and the two of you having conversation. You even gave her some pain meds along with some vitamins from your own personal stash to help the woman sober up.

Towards the end of the night, you started to close up tabs and pay our customers. It wasn’t closing time yet, you still had like two hours, but the less hardcore partiers were starting to filter out.

From your side eye, you could see the girls that had dragged Leonora out clubbing, they were still on the dancefloor, flat out drunk and hollering expletives along with the music.

Leonora had began to get over her drunken nausea. She was now sitting at the bar, watching you as you made drinks and took payments. When the bar hit a lull, you sauntered back over to Leonora, to check in with the woman.

“How ya’ doing, ‘Nora?” You hummed, cleaning off some glasses as you talked to the redhead.

Leonora was taking a drink from her water, she hummed, and finished her gulp before answering.

“Better. Thank you” the redhead breathed out.

You hummed and nodded.

Leonora then asked something offhand,

“Do you get hit on a lot…?”

Your gaze flicked from the glass you were cleaning to the woman in a split second.

“Yea I do…” you spoke, “It’s kinda an expected part of the job… why?”

Leonora shrugged her shoulders.

“I saw a couple guys try their luck tonight with you and from what I could see, you turned them all down… I assume your partner doesn’t take a liking to that…” She explained.

You smirked and chuckled lightly. This made Leonora quirk her brow up lightly in amusement.

“What…?” She asked curiously.

“Well… for one, I’m gay.” You enlightened Leonora,

This made the redhead’s eyes widen and her mouth form a silent Ohhh.

“And second, I don’t have a partner.” You finished your thought.

This puzzled Leonora a bit. How could a stunning bartender like you, not have a girlfriend…??

You registered the shocked look on the redheads face, making you chuckle even more.

“I know, I know… How could I be single…??” You joked with a chuckle, waving your hands in the air for dramatic effect.

This made Leonora chuckle lightly as well. You put the clean and dried glasses aside, grabbing the next rack of soapy glasses that needed cleaning next.

“What about you? You got a girlfriend…?” You asked.

Leonora’s breath hitched and her eyes widened slightly again.

You knew she was…?

“I—umm… No, well… it’s complicated…” Leonora stammered, nervously looking back and forth from you over to Clarissa who was grinding away on the dancefloor.

“That’ your complicated girl?” You asked with a chuckle, indicating over to Clarissa, who was dancing wildly and screaming the lyrics of the current song, “The one who dragged you in here…?”

Leonora pursed her lips, blushed lightly, and nodded.

“Mmmm I see. Yea, that looks complicated…” you hum with a sigh, still cleaning your glassware.

Leonora went silent and just in that moment, another customer on the other end of the bar called for your attention. You sighed, putting your rack of glasses aside. Telling Leonora that you’d be back to check on her soon and that you’d get her another water, you went over to help the small but growing line of people.

Finally, after the small rush of customers, you made it back to Leonora’s side of the bar, grabbing your glassware rack again and starting back up in cleaning them. Your eyes wandered back over to the complicated brunette that Leonora was ensnared in. You watched her dance and move around drunkenly. Your gaze then came back to Leonora.

“She’s the top, right…?” You said with a light smirk.

Leonora chocked on her water nearly spitting it all the way up. Her entire face went red and and she desperately trie for get her breathing back under control.

“I— w-why would you… say that…?” Leonora stammered in a little bit of a mock offended tone.

You chuckled and smirked at the redhead in amusement.

“Just a hunch.” You hummed, shrugging your shoulders lightly.

“Humph. Well you’re wrong… I’m such a top” Leonora pouted with a huff, “I could even do you…!”

Your left eyebrow quirked up in amusement and questioning at the redheads statement. You stopped cleaning the glass in your hand.

“You think you can top me?” You asked bluntly, meeting the redheads gaze unabashedly.

“I—well…” Leonora stammered and looked away under your intense gaze.

Her cheeks flushed red and you smirked lightly to yourself.

“That’s what I thought…” you hummed, please with yourself.

Leonora grumbled a little, crossing her arms, but said nothing much else on the subject.

“Don’t torture yourself over it, ‘hun…” you hummed to the redhead reassuringly, “I’m a dom at Lilith’s Den in my free time.”

Leonora flickered her gaze up to you in an instant.

“Lilith’s Den, as in you’re a…” she breathed out in stammering verbiage, “a dominatrix…?”

You pursed your lips and smirked wickedly, quirking your brows and nodding at Leonora. Leonora sucked in a breath and squirmed in her seat a little.

“Oh my... I’m... uh... speechless..” Leonora whimpered.

You then smiled softly at the woman, placing your hand on hers which was on the bar, squeezing its reassuringly.

“Don’t stress it. That’s completely normal, ‘hun.” You reassured the woman, then giving her a cheeky wink.

Before you were called back to the other paying customers, letting go of the redheads hand. You watched Leonora out of the corner of your eye while you worked. Now she was watching your every move…

Last calls eventually came around. You started to close out all accounts from the night. You were having one guy sign his check, and when you looked up into the expanse of the club, you realized that Leonora’s complicated friend Clarissa and her group of girls had left. You gritted your teeth together, and had to take a deep breath, before you closed out everyone else.

Soon, Leonora was the only one left and it was a couple minutes after close.

“Alright ‘Nor… It’s been fun, but I have to finish up closing and you need to get home…” you sighed, coming towards the redhead, still on the opposite end of the bar.

Leonora hummed and nodded in agreement, but looked sad. Her pout got to you.

“Let me finish up, and I’ll walk you out and get you a cab, hmmm…?” You offered.

The redhead smiled lightly and nodded.

“Thank you” she breathed out.

You nodded and told her it was no issue. It took you about 15 more minutes before you grabbed your things and were ready to go.

Leonora stood up on her wobbly legs, and you linked your arm to hers, guiding her towards the door and outside. You both shivered outside in the cold. You hailed a taxi and opened the door for Leonora.

Leonora thanked you again, but before she got in, she turned to you and pressed her lips flush against yours. You were shocked but content with the light kiss.

You both naturally pulled away.

“Join me…?” Leonora breathed out in a whisper.

You sucked your breath in and looked away in concern, biting your lip. You took a deep breath and meet Leonora’s gaze once more.

“Not tonight, ‘hun…” you sighed.

Leonora’s face pouted and she looked dejected and down.

“I… why…? Did I do something..?�� She breathed out.

“No no, you’re perfect, ‘Nor—! I just…” you sighed again, “I’m… I’m afraid I might hurt or break you tonight.” You explained.

Leonora met your gaze with glossy eyes, with a light smile now on her face from your compliment.

“Maybe you can come visit me at Lilith’s one day…” you comforted the woman.

This idea seemed to perk Leonora up. She agreed and with that, she got into her cab, and it drove away.

You watched on the sidewalk as the cab drove into the distance. You sighed again.

God… in a matter of one night, you were completely hooked…

~~~

Leonora Lesso Masterlist

[theresattrpgforthat]

Theme: TTRPGs For Accessible Gaming Charity Bundle

The TTRPGS for Accessible Gaming Charity Bundle is going on until October. 20, and has 314 games included. There’s some real gems in this pile of games, so let’s highlight some that I’m excited about!

Unknown Journal, by Mori Seika.

Unknown Journal is a solo post apocalypse TTRPG in the same universe of its’ sister game Unknown Signal. In this universe mysterious beings have taken over the world, and they can take over human's bodies, making it really hard to distinguish between humans and monsters. It is best to ignore anyone you see, you never know who is human, and who is actually one of them. You'll need to look for resources, deal with monster encounters and maybe find some people you can trust.

Unknown Signal appears to be a video game designed by the same person, so this appears to be another way to engage with the world they built, with a journal and dice instead of a computer program. The printout includes a number of event tokens that you can cut out and put into an opaque bag; these will generate random events that will affect your character as they try to survive.

This looks to mainly be a resource management game in a post-apocalyptic world: every event has the potential to drain your resources, or force you to roll for consequences. Because events happen in a random order, your ending scene is determined by whether or not you’ve reached certain locations or met certain people, which I think lends this game to feel a little big like a choose-your-own adventure novel. If you love rolling dice to see what happens and using small prompts to generate fiction, I think you might like Unknown Journal.

I Want Your Bite, by Rue.

a mysterious bachelor has recently purchased the manor house overlooking the town. they're in the process of renovating- starting a new life. and rumour has it- they're looking for a partner. 

compete against your fellow players for the chance at immortal love- a place by the Vampire's side. 

Say hello to a competitive pvp-style rpg, but the arena involved here is love: you’re all competing to win a vampires’ heart. One person plays the vampire, and everyone else will pick up a reality tv-show style archetype, slated to engage in a number of challenges in order to score dates with the vampire and accumulate points. In between each challenge, there will be be downtime scenes that include those coveted dates, as well as other drama between competitors, probably trying to sabotage each-other���s chances or digging up dirt in the pursuit of making you appear to be the most desirable contestant of all.

What I’m really excited about is the optional Vampire Hunter rules. This changes the game, and also raises the stakes, by introducing a (secret) Vampire Hunter character who’s not here to kiss the Vampire, but kill them instead. All of the contestants will know who the Vampire Hunter is, and the Hunter will compete in the challenges just the same as everyone else - but our Vampire player will have to use their dates with people to suss out their true intentions - and hopefully pick a lover who actually wants to join them in a grand afterlife. A perfect way to change your dating sim into a hidden-role social game.

Post-Apo-Calypse, by CardboardHyperfix. @cardboardhyperfix

You play a troupe of three characters, each representing a stat. The three of you are trying to set up a route from one town to the other for delivering mail. POST represents a determined mail carrier. APO is a prepared representative from the town who makes sure you have enough supplies. CALYPSE is the protector who covers the group to keep them safe.

This one is for the solo gamers who like balancing a number of characters in their head. Post-Apo-Calypse has you build a troupe of three characters, with each character responsible for a different specialty - as well as different facets of the game. You need index cards, 12 Fate dice, and a pencil in order to play this, as well as a map that you can move your little group around on, and an inventory of the letters your mail carrier needs to deliver.

The game comes with generative tables that you can use to determine your surroundings, as well as the obstacles that will stand in your way. You’ll use a character (or perhaps the trio, working together) to overcome the obstacles by rolling the dice and looking for positive results - the more you get, the more obstacles you can clear. Your characters also have an exhaustion mechanic; if too many folks get too tired, they’ll have to return to home base before they can continue. However, any progress you make on your map will be saved, so the next time you venture out, you’ll likely get farther - and eventually get to another town.

The Girls of the Genziana Hotel by Hendrik ten Napel @hendrik-ten-napel

She only left behind a bloodstained stocking…

The Girls of the Genziana Hotel is a roleplaying game about chambermaids investigating the disappearance of one of their own: Marga, the boyish girl with the wild curls. It is the nineteenth century and all the girls work at the Genziana, an alpine hotel at the edge of the German territories. The Napoleonic wars have come to an end and Germany is changing—but you don't care about that, you just need to know what happened to her.

The Girls of The Genziana Hotel is a great game for folks familiar with other PbtA games, especially games like Brindlewood Bay or the Between. It’s a horror murder mystery, about a group of girls trying to find out what happened to their friend - and nobody else seems to care about her. The themes here are rather heavy, and are likely to centre feminine horror, including a potential reference to abortion, harassment, and violence.

There’s a couple of optional PbtA mechanics that show up here, the primary one catching my eye being the rolling with advantage/disadvantage mechanic. This involves adding an extra dice to your roll (making it 3d6 instead of 2) and taking the two highest or two lowest numbers, depending on the situation you’re in. You’ll also be slowly uncovering Marga’s fate as you play, and as you do so you’ll simultaneously uncover the kind of girl she was - and perhaps also why you miss her.

I think the biggest potential for the emotional side of role0play here is the Grief moves - different ways of grieving that differentiate your character from everyone else. These moves allow you to interact with a specific part of the game differently from everyone else, but also embody different ways of grieving someone who’ve you lost, and I think thematically it really ties in with the whole story that you’re trying to tell.

shadow/giant by PsychHound. @psychhound

It don’t matter how you got here. Don’t matter what the destination is. At some point, somehow, against the odds … Shadow felt safe with the Giant. And the Giant, though they mighta sworn off it before … cares for the Shadow. There’ll be threats. Always will be. But, maybe, you can get through. Find safety. Together. As long as it takes to get there. And through those long days, cold nights … the tears, the fears, the fighting … someone, somewhere … might just mistake you for a family.

Well. Wouldn’t that be somethin.

Shadow / Giant is a duet roleplaying game about finding care, safety, and family amidst a malicious and unaccepting world. In it, one player will play as the Giant – a gruff and jaded adult who thought their care for the world was long gone – and the other will play the Shadow – a child with magical abilities who now relies on them for protection.

First of all, I want to say that I am in awe of @psychhound ’s layout skill. This game is so beautiful, and it makes me so so jealous but in the best way. This is a duet game with asymmetrical rules, inspired by another duet game called Badger & Coyote.

In Shadow/Giant, one person plays the Giant, who is wrestling with mistakes they may have made in their past, and is doing their best to take care of the Shadow, even if they don’t feel equipped to do so. They build a dice pool out of skills, traits and the Shadow’s assistance, and use the highest result to determine how well or how poorly they do. In a way it reminds me of Forged in the Dark games.

The other person plays the Shadow, who has suffered something that scares them, an event possibly linked to their special powers. The Shadow chooses a single skill number to represent both their strength and their weakness. This skill number shifts up and down whenever you fail, with two conditions that will end the game should you ever reach 1 or 6.

The rules for shadow/giant have a strong narrative voice, which immerses you in the tone of the fiction even as you learn how to play. I’m a huge huge fan of the amount of art built into the design of this game, and even if you don’t have someone to play this with, I think reading the document in and of itself is a worthwhile experience.

Under the Neighbourhood by Quest Friends!

An eccentric girl enters a world of magical monsters and decides to become a witch. Twins discover a mysterious journal in the woods near their great uncle’s house and delve into the world of cryptids the journal describes. Three friends get lost on an island filled with frogs and fight to find their way home.

Under the Neighborhood is a tabletop roleplaying game for 3-6 players using the Powered by the Apocalypse engine, where players live out adventures from their favorite Saturday morning cartoons. All you need to play are some dice, some friends, and your own imagination!

Whether you want to recreate your favorite episodes from The Owl House, Gravity Falls, or Amphibia, or you simply want to go on exciting adventures in a curiously ordinary world of your imagination, Under the Neighborhood is the game for you!

Under the Neighborhood is a funky combination of PbtA design hallmarks and Cypher System mechanics. Like PbtA, you use stats and typically roll 2d6+stat to do a move. You also choose from a set of character playbooks, which establish how your character relates to the worlds around them. However, like the Cypher System, you have a special player resource that can be used like XP, or spent to activate special abilities or improve a roll. You also choose a descriptor, which makes your character especially unique, and grants you special items, skills, and inabilities.

You also build you own setting, but no matter what world you create, your world will have Mundane elements, Magical elements, and elements of the Other. The mundane elements will include what makes this place feel normal, but they also come through when you create your character complication: you’ll have small, slice of life problems that are important to you as a character, but probably don’t matter as much to the rest of the world. You’ll also have to define what is different from regular Earth - maybe the dead come back to life, or there are animal folk who live as our neighbours. And even though this world is Magical, there will still be bits of it that are Other - another place or dimension that connects the setting, but it’s unfamiliar, and provides special challenges. (@oddatbest you might like this one)

Intemperate Shadows, by Sad Goose Cooperative.

Discover the source of the scratching in the garden shed. Escape the disaster at Meitner base. Fight your undead grandmother in the crypt beneath City Hall.

Intemperate Shadows is a GMless no-prep horror-adventure system where four players simulate a monster movie, building from a subtly sinister opening scene to a no-holds vbarred showdown at the game's conclusion. Over the course of a three to four hour game, you'll pass control of the monster from one player to the next as a series of desperate decisions pushes your characters closer and closer to victory--or destruction.

I might have a bit of penchant for PbtA games - although I didn’t necessarily realize that this game was Powered by the Apocalypse until I opened it up. It’s boiled down to a few essential moves, with a broad interpretation of possible outcomes encouraged - whatever makes sense for the fiction. You slowly reveal a monster as you play, in a way that leaves the group’s odds of survival up in the air all the way until the end.

This is also a no-prep game, meaning that you’ll learn it as you play it, with an infographic mapping out each phase of the game in sequential order, as well as instructions for each phase as you get introduced to it. Your characters are fairly simple, because the focus is on what you can build together; I think this might be a great exercise in building onto elements introduced by other people to create something new. It’s also potentially a great way to give the entire table a chance to try out a part of the GM experience. I think it might also be a neat tutorial for roleplaying in general, as every action that a character can do requires that you answer a prompt question before you do the action.

The game itself culminates in a showdown - players will add up victory points accumulated over each phase, to find out whether they won, and if so, how final the monster’s defeat is: did you temporarily stop it, or put it away for good?

Inspirisles by Hatchlings Games.

Experiencing visions of a mythical land throughout childhood, you are guided to a kingdom ruled by the fae. Responsible for a pact made long ago by your ancestors, Arthur & Guinevere Pendragon, you must now earn Belief and the respect of their gods to secure your ticket back home.

INSPIRISLES is a completely original all ages Tabletop RPG promoting storytelling, empathy and Deaf awareness with an emphasis on cooperation.

This game takes place in a fairytale setting that places a heavy focus on elemental magic and opposing energies called Belief and Disbelief. Because of the use of four elements, I think the ideal play group is probably one gm and four players. Your character background is built through memories that you choose during character creation, and you also have to choose a patron and element. This elemental choice is going to be the biggest thing that differentiates you from the other characters. The game also has a mechanic that I’ve seen before in We Are All Mad Here, that being a location in-game that is a designated safe space; where your characters can retreat to for sanctuary.

The game comes with links to an online resource with sign language tutorials, as well as an explanation on how sign language can be incorporated into gameplay. There are different levels of sign that can be used, from Weak (finger-spelling) all the way to a “Bonus” level that includes learning signs for basic vocab attached to the game world. The game also comes with plenty of information about Deaf culture and ways to communicate respectfully and efficiently in sign language. In this way I think it’s a very helpful teaching tool!

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2

Behind him, Eddie hears the others beginning to stir. The illusion, the foolish hope that he could just keep driving alone with Steve, that he could have all the time in the world to fix this shatters in a matter of seconds: Nancy’s light tread approaches and, as he reaches an intersection, it’s like he can already hear a clock beginning to tick.

“Why… why are we going this way?”

And, God, Eddie is so damn grateful for Nancy Wheeler: she’s tactful, keeps her voice down, as if she already suspects something. Hell, she must do; if Eddie can recall directions to Steve’s house, she’ll definitely sense where they’re heading.

Another stop light. Straight ahead after this, then…

Eddie glances to the side, just in time to see Nancy’s eyes widen as she looks at Steve.

She whispers his name.

Steve gives the subtlest shake of his head.

Eddie has to look away—it’s an intimate exchange, yes, but it’s not romantic, that’s not why he can’t bear it. It’s the fact that they’re so clearly sharing last-minute signals, silent communication only created by going through hell over and over again, and it makes him feel sick that he now knows what their expressions mean. Their doomsday looks.

When he pulls up to Steve’s driveway, he hears various murmurs of confusion—Dustin is the loudest.

Steve claps his hands and everyone falls abruptly silent.

“Okay!” he says, rising from his seat, and he sounds determined, almost up-beat; Christ, Eddie doesn’t know how he manages it. “Sinclairs, Mayfield, Henderson, you’re all with me. We’ll be in and out, got it?”

He heads out of the RV with purpose. Save for Eddie and Nancy, everyone is looking at each other with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Robin opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Steve calls from outside, “Hello? Come on, let’s go!” and it sounds so normal, like they’re just running late for school or something.

I might not have known, Eddie thinks, with a creeping horror. If I had slept instead… fuck, why are you such a good actor, Steve?

Erica leads the way out, prompting the others to follow; Eddie hears frantic whispers that he can’t decipher, Max lifting up one side of her headphones so she can hear as Dustin and Lucas crowd close to her, hopping outside and heading to the house.

Robin moves to the RV door, but Nancy stops her.

“Robin, stay here. I need to talk to you,” she says firmly, and it sounds like Code Red. She fixes Eddie with a pointed look and nods towards the house, like it’s not even a question that Eddie should go after Steve.

So, he does. Of course he does.

He finds them all in the kitchen, voices echoing, rebounding off the high ceiling.

“What are we doing?” Lucas says.

The kids have formed a little group by the counter, staring as Steve opens cupboards, his back to them.

“Want some back-up alcohol for Operation Flambé,” Steve says easily, “just in case.”

It could almost work, Eddie thinks. He can hear the clinking of glass as Steve methodically pulls bottles off the shelves—that is what he’s doing, so it’s not exactly a lie. Not yet. But he looks at the growing frowns of shrewd kids that are too used to waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Steve must sense it, too, because he stops collecting bottles, turns round to face them. He gets closer, rests his hands on the counter. The pretense drops.

“...Steve?” Erica says.

“You guys trust me, right?”

Eddie doesn't answer; he knows it's not directed towards him. He watches as the rest nod as one. Steve takes a deep breath.

“This is the deal, non-negotiable, okay? I don’t ask much from you, so, y’know. Figure you owe me one.” He’s smiling again, his tone flippant; he’s trying so hard to make it easy for them. Eddie digs his fingernails into his palms. “Here’s your jobs for tonight: you stay right here. Eat some food, put on a movie, I don't care. Just no moving.” He points at Max. “You keep that Walkman on. I've got... see that cabinet, by the T.V? Got some tapes in there, Hounds of Love is on the... third row, I think? Yeah, see the purple? If your one wears out, you've got a back-up.”

They just stare at him. Relief sweeps through Lucas’s and Max’s shoulders, even as they stand rigid with tension, like they’re at war with themselves. Like they feel ashamed at the instinct to stay safe. Christ, they’re all just too young, far too young for any of this.

And so are you, Eddie thinks fiercely, as he watches Steve sweep past them, going up the stairs two at a time. So are you.

Dustin snaps out of it first. He moves forward, voice sharp and urgent, “Steve? Steve!” He barges past Eddie like he isn't even there, then thunders up the stairs.

Eddie follows.

He hears the tail-end of Max saying, “Lucas, he's... I can't feel him anymore. Why can't I—?” Then, he reaches the top of the stairs, heads to what must be Steve’s bedroom. He hovers in the doorway.

“—not even going to look at me?” Dustin is asking.

Steve doesn't answer. He's rooting around one of his drawers, distractedly pulls out a cassette, puts it into his jeans pocket. Eddie sees the horrible moment where it clicks for Dustin—of course, it barely takes half a second, kid's as smart as a whip. All the colour drains from his face.

“Steve,” he says. “You can't just—this isn't how we do things.”

“I'm older than you,” Steve returns. “I'm pulling rank for once, Henderson.” He's pinching the bridge of his nose harshly, still not looking at Dustin.

Dustin laughs. It’s an awful sound, his voice cracking with vulnerability. “Seriously? Fuck you.”

Eddie can’t stand it, feels like he’s intruding on something deeply private.

Steve sniffs, starts to head for the door.

“If—if you leave, I’m never speaking to you again,” Dustin says.

“Okay,” Steve says gently.

Dustin reels from the word as if struck. His eyes fill with furious tears. “I hate you.”

“Dustin,” Eddie says quietly, even though he knows that Dustin doesn’t mean it; it’s obvious that he doesn't mean it. It’s a tactic Eddie is all too familiar with: to say the most hurtful thing you can think of, just to make the other person lash out—because even if they’re angry with you, at least they’ve stayed.

Make sure Dustin doesn’t see, Steve had said. The reason is clear. Because Dustin’s eyes are full of something wild and desperate, like he would follow Steve anywhere.

I can't let that happen, Eddie realises. Steve’s almost at the doorway, and from here Eddie can see him angrily swipe a tear off his cheek, out of Dustin’s view. It would break him.

Steve turns, finally looks back. “It’s okay, Dustin,” he says, soft and kind. Kind until the end. “It's okay.”

And then he leaves.

“Eddie,” Dustin whispers. “Please.”

“I'm sorry,” Eddie says. It's all he can say. “Dustin, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It's torture, seeing the flash of hurt and betrayal across Dustin’s face. He storms out, catches Eddie's chest with his elbow.

Make sure Dustin doesn’t see.

Dustin might be fast, but Eddie is faster; at the foot of the stairs, he easily darts in front. With long, quick strides, he reaches the RV, sees that Nancy, Robin and Steve are already inside, and he locks the door, runs to the driver’s seat. Dustin is a second too late, pounding on the glass. Eddie has never heard someone scream like that before.

He glances behind as he reverses. Steve sits directly on the floor, his head in his hands; Robin is rubbing his back, murmuring something to him.

Eddie speeds away. His last sight of Dustin is in the wing mirror, trying to run after them, only stopping when it’s clearly hopeless.

“Fuck,” Steve whispers, and then he dry heaves.

“I've got water,” Robin says frantically. “Here, here, slow sips.”

There's a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder. Nancy.

“Where...” Eddie clears his throat. “Where to, Wheeler?”

“Your trailer,” she says, and it sounds like something else again, like thank you and I'm sorry all at once.

He doesn’t talk for the whole drive there. The others keep up the conversation, Eddie straining to hear every noise Steve makes, inwardly pleading that he never falls silent. The plan is hastily amended: the extra alcohol Steve has brought means that they can split their supplies, leaving some for Vecna and some for deterring the bats and vines. He nods when Robin asks if there’s a tape deck in his room, which settles it: he will stay with Steve in the trailer, and… wait.

They don’t mention the word bait, but Eddie can hear it anyway.

Once he’s parked, Robin and Nancy get out first, carrying the drinks and weapons. When he gets out of his seat, he finds that Steve is still halfway to standing, swaying slightly, as if sea-sick.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Eddie says quickly, and he carefully pulls Steve up with one hand. Steve’s palm is damp with cold sweat, his pulse jumping rapidly in his neck, feverish. “Still with me?”

Steve’s eyes dart around before settling on Eddie.

What are you seeing? Eddie thinks, his own heart beating faster at the unknown he isn’t privy to. Let me in. Let me help.

But all Steve says is, “Get ready to duck out the way, man, feel like m’gonna throw up.”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “You’re good, I was kinda thinking my shirt should be a different colour.”

Steve wrinkles his nose, chuckles weakly. “Gross.”

He drops Eddie’s hand and climbs out of the RV. Eddie stays close, ready to catch him if he so much as stumbles.

In the trailer, Robin and Nancy wait by the makeshift rope. Steve’s posture straightens as they look at him, as if to say, See? Don’t worry about me.

“Give him hell, Nance,” he says.

Nancy nods. “See you when we get back,” she says, her tone firm. She catches Eddie’s eye, and the intent is clear: Look after him.

Eddie nods back. Always.

Robin’s lips are trembling; she’s trying to fight it, but it’s there all the same.

“Come on, Rob,” Steve says, through another one of his smiles, but his voice tightens, like he might break down if he’s shown an ounce of sympathy. And when he gives her a little wave, it’s like Eddie can see the routine of it, like Steve is simply bidding Robin goodbye after dropping her off somewhere. “See you soon.”

Robin doesn’t hug him, even though she’s clearly desperate to; must have noticed, just as Eddie did, that it would make this even harder still for Steve. Instead, she gives a joking little salute, like a sailor, and there must be something in that, because Steve lets out a choked laugh, and they all pretend that it doesn’t resemble a sob.

The girls climb the rope quickly, and by the time Eddie has turned back after having watched them leave, Steve has already headed for Eddie’s room, presumably looking for the tape deck.

But when Eddie hurriedly follows him, there’s no music playing, and Steve is sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Don’t you want your music on for a bit?”

Steve shakes his head, then nods in the direction of the gate. “Wanna start the distraction as soon as possible,” he says, “give them the best shot.”

The distraction. Like he isn’t risking everything, like he’s just feigning a move on the goddamn basketball court.

“Okay,” Eddie says placatingly. He sits down opposite Steve, close enough that their knees bump. “Sorry, I should’ve vacuumed.”

Steve laughs, but it breaks off at the end. “Y-yeah, where’s the welcoming…” His voice fails and he sighs shakily. “Sorry, Eddie, I—I’m just. I’m really fucking scared.”

He sounds embarrassed. Eddie reaches for his hand, and Steve clings on in a tight grip, like he’s drowning.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, don’t be sorry. Don’t you dare.”

“That a threat, Munson?”

“You know what? Sure. Thought you could do with some more pressure.”

Steve gives a lovely, tender little smile. “Hey. Thanks. For… everything.”

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding? I haven’t fucking done anything. This is all you, Harrington.”

And Steve is laughing softly, really laughing, and he says, “Don’t bullshit—”

And his eyes roll back, the irises suddenly clouded over, and his hand becomes slack in Eddie’s grip.

Eddie has to force himself not to scream, not to jolt back; he thinks he might be sick, and the only thing stopping that outcome is the fact that Steve needs him. He barely counts to three inside his head, remembering Chrissy, how quick it all was, and he’s standing, tripping over his own feet.

“Right, I’m calling it,” he says, his chest tight, “long enough fucking distraction, they’ll already be at the—”

And he stops.

Because the tape deck doesn’t have anything inside. Because, next to it, is the plastic cassette case that was once in Steve’s pocket.

And it’s empty.

He pictures Steve back at his house, distractedly picking it up, focused on reassuring Dustin; Steve not realising his mistake until he had walked into Eddie’s bedroom and gone to put the tape in. Steve going ahead with it anyway, all while knowing…

“No,” Eddie breathes, “no, no, no.” He dives for the case, but the paper sleeve inside is worn beyond all recognition; he has no idea what the song could have been, even what album it came from. He grabs the closest tape he can find, ramming it in, and suddenly thinks Robin’s assessment of his music was more than accurate. Seriously, what is all this shit?

“Come on!” he shouts, and cranks the volume up as far as it will go.

When he turns back around, Steve is already floating.

Eddie can hardly hear over the roar of the music, but he feels the scream tear at his throat; he’s useless, he’s fucking useless, it’s Chrissy all over again—

One leg snaps. He screams again, screams Steve’s name. Then an arm begins to shake, to twist unnaturally at the elbow, and—

And Steve falls. Eddie lunges to catch him, and his heart both leaps and breaks at Steve’s cry of pain. You’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

“Steve, Steve, hey, hey, hey, try not to move,” he says, “you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Steve jerks, then vomits, the bile black with blood.

“All right, that’s fine,” Eddie babbles. “Just a little blood, you’re doing good, you’re—”

His hand brushes Steve’s side, comes away wet. The wounds on his stomach have reopened, as if something else has clawed at them.

“I can’t,” Steve gasps, “I can’t feel you.”

“I’m right here! Hey, Steve? Steve, look at me, I’m right—stop, stop, don’t move, you’re gonna be—”

“Eddie, I don’t want to go,” Steve says, and he’s sobbing, “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to—”

“You’re not dying. You’re not—Steve, Steve, just look at me, stay with me—”

But Steve just shakes in Eddie’s arms, and he throws up again, each breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

Fuck, he can’t breathe.

And then, it’s very quiet.

“Steve? Steve.”

Eddie looks down. Steve’s eyes are fixed, glassy. His chest is still.

The trailer splits. Jagged lines in both directions, one from the gate, one from Eddie’s room, burning red. Eddie runs out without consciously thinking about it, holding onto Steve, cradling his head.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” The words are ripped out of his chest, his voice turned into something unrecognisable, so pained that it’s almost rendered inhuman.

He’s gone, Eddie thinks numbly.

His grip on the world fades, awareness only breaking through in fleeting impressions. Nancy and Robin’s faces. Screaming. Nancy saying, “Eddie, you have to let him go—”

He’s gone.

He comes back to himself in a crowded hospital corridor. Robin is reaching for him, and she’s crying, saying his name, but he moves away before she can touch him. He doesn’t deserve her kindness; Steve should be standing here, should be falling into her embrace—

He’s gone.

And then, he’s in a bathroom, thrusting his hands under scorching water. Red and black stains the sink. Blood. Steve’s blood.

The door bangs open. Dustin is standing before him. There are several cuts on his face, and he’s gasping and clutching his side like he ran all the way here. Maybe he did.

“Eddie,” he says, and it’s in that tone, the one Eddie heard when he was trembling in the boathouse, the one that shocked him to his core. Because it sounded like, Yeah, I’m the younger one, so what? I’m still going to protect you.

In hearing that, Eddie knows that he has already been forgiven. Because Dustin’s love is like what Steve’s had been: fierce and unconditional.

Eddie tries to take a breath—it comes out in a ragged, wet exhale. “I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t—I tried—”

And then words fail him completely. He can’t stop the tears once they’ve started; and there, chest heaving with grief, he falls apart in Dustin Henderson’s arms.

[seiya-starsniper]

hello hello i see you're open to prompts 👀

how about #20"I'm just going to lie right here" for dreamling (or any ship you prefer 👀)

happy writing, my dear 💜✨️

HEY SO REMEMBER THIS PROMPT YOU SENT ME FIVE MONTHS AGO??? Apparently it took me getting another prompt to finally come up with an idea for it, so I've gone and combined the two 😄💖 Gentle Prompts Here and Soft Prompts Here (I'll still accept prompts from both because I am a fluff machine)

-------------

Hob knows something is wrong as soon as his roommate enters their shared apartment and slams the door behind him.

“Morph? You all right?” Hob calls out, pausing his movie and turning to the entryway where Morpheus is angrily pulling off his shoes and shoving his coat onto the hooks. He also practically slams his keys down into the tray on the side table by the door, and Hob winces at the loud clang that echoes through the apartment. He considers asking Morpheus again if he’s all right, but decides to let his moody roommate come to him instead. 

Something is definitely very wrong if his roommate is making this much noise. Morpheus Endless is normally so quiet of a roommate that Hob doesn’t always notice when the other man is even in the apartment at the same time as him. Morpheus was so silent and unassuming that Hob had felt like he was being haunted by a ghost rather than living with a real person the first few months they started living together. Hob would be jump-scared in his own kitchen simply by turning around and finding Morpheus there right behind him. He had no idea another person could walk so quietly. The worst time had been in the bathroom, when Hob had accidentally squirted half a tube of toothpaste all over the other man’s black shirt. From that point forward, Morpheus had started knocking along the walls wherever he walked, so that Hob would know where he was at any given moment.

Still, the pale man was an ideal roommate otherwise, if not a little socially awkward at times. On top of his eerily quiet nature, it had taken months for Hob to get Morpheus to even say more than five words to him whenever they were in the same room together. Hob had first thought Morpheus was just disinterested in being friendly all together, but then one night, like a cat, his roommate peeked his head out of his room to the smell of Hob cooking dinner. Hob has since learned to let Morpheus come to him, instead of trying to impress on the man himself.

Hob’s efforts seem to now be paying off, for instead of stomping off to his bedroom to sulk about whatever it is, Morpheus instead makes his way over to the couch and plants himself directly in front of Hob’s line of vision. Hob tries to give his best reassuring smile as he stares up at the pale man.

“Bad day?” Hob asks gently. “I’m happy to listen, if you’d like. Looks like you could use a hug too.”

Morpheus doesn’t answer, he simply sways somewhat unsteadily for a few moments, before he practically collapses onto the couch. The only problem is, Hob is still very much sitting on said couch, and instead of aiming for the empty spot next to him, Hob instead finds himself with an armful of gangly limbs and untamed hair. 

“Oof,” Hob grunts as he takes on the unexpected weight. Hug it is, then. Morpheus isn’t heavy by any means, but it still takes a moment for Hob to adjust to having what is effectively an oversized cat suddenly in his lap. Hob eventually manages to wiggle his arms out from under Morpheus, before wrapping them around the pale man and pulling him against his chest. Morpheus immediately takes the cue and buries his face in Hob’s shoulder, shaking like a leaf and failing to keep his breathing even.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, it’s all right,” Hob soothes, rubbing at Morpheus’s back. His roommate is freezing from the cold weather outside, but he’s quickly warming up the longer Hob holds him.

Hob doesn’t know what it is that’s upset Morpheus so much, but whatever it is, he’s glad that his roommate isn’t trying to deal with it alone, that they’ve come far enough in their friendship (though Morpheus has yet to call him a friend at this point) for him to show Hob this vulnerable side of him. 

The only downside to this is that this newfound vulnerability is doing absolutely nothing to help Hob’s teeny tiny, absolutely miniscule crush on his roommate. But that’s neither here nor there. Hob tucks the yearning feelings that arise from their newfound intimacy quietly behind his ribs and focuses all his energy into comforting Morpheus instead. 

“Do you…want to talk about it?” Hob asks Morpheus. 

A soft inhale. Then a shake of the head against his shoulder. The motion alerts Hob to the fact that his shoulder is damp, and the realization makes his heart lurch up into his throat. He wants to go out and find whoever or whatever it is that’s upset Morpheus so much and give them an introduction to his fists.

“Okay…” Hob continues, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. He’s here for comfort, not to be a white knight. “That’s fine, we don’t need to get into it. Uhm…can I readjust though? This position’s a bit uncomfortable.”

There’s a short pause, and then eventually, Hob feels Morpheus nod against his shoulder.  

Moving Morpheus is a fairly easy task. If Hob didn’t know any better, he’d think his roommate had been replaced by some sort of mannequin from the way he lets Hob manhandle him so easily. He seems to be mostly aware of what’s happening, which is good, but it’s clear he’s no in any sort of headspace for conversation just yet.

Eventually, Hob is able to rearrange them so that he’s lying with his back resting on the arm of the couch, and Morpheus is sprawled on top of him. Their legs are tangled together and Hob’s also thrown the large throw blanket over them for good measure. Morpheus, of course, reburies his head in Hob’s shoulder, and Hob takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around his roommate’s shoulders once more, rubbing soothing circle’s into the other man’s back.

“See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” Hob asks gently. “Nothing beats a good hug and a cuddle on the couch when you’ve had a bad day.”

Morpheus hums, but otherwise doesn’t offer any other sort of verbal reply. It’s a start.

“You can stay as long as you like,” Hob adds. “I’m just going to lay right here until you decide you want to move.”

“Then you’ll be here until tomorrow,” Morpheus croaks, his voice clearly cracked from crying.

Hob laughs and moves his hand up from Morpheus’s back to ruffle the man’s messy black hair. Morpheus groans in annoyance and bats his hand away, but otherwise does not move from his chin perch on Hob’s shoulder. Somehow, Morpheus's hair looks exactly the same.

“There you are,” Hob says, his voice fond. “Was starting to worry you’d gone mute on me.”

“No,” Morpheus says. “...I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” Hob replies, then adds, “and we can stay here until tomorrow, really, if you like. But I will need to pee at some point.”

Morpheus huffs. “I suppose that is acceptable.”

“Can I tempt you with some food too?” Hob asks. “I’ll even feed it to you if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Morpheus replies. “I can feed myself.”

“All right,” Hob says, shrugging and shifting himself into a more comfortable lying position. “Need anything else? Want to take a nap?”

Morpheus doesn’t answer for some time, and Hob almost thinks the man fell asleep on him already, but then his roommate readjusts his limbs as well and moves his body downwards until his head is resting on Hob’s chest. Hob wants to cry at how adorable he looks, at how right it feels that their bodies fit together so perfectly, like they were made for each other. 

“A nap sounds nice,” Morpheus finally replies, mumbling quietly into Hob’s chest. “And perhaps food when we wake up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hob agrees. He already knows he’s going to be ordering take-out for tonight, but come tomorrow, he’s going to make all of Morpheus’s favorite foods for the rest of his week. For the rest of his life, if he’d let him.

It doesn’t take terribly long for Morpheus to fall asleep on him, and Hob resists the urge to plant a kiss in the man’s hair, settling instead for gently rubbing at Morpheus’s back. Hob falls asleep not too long after his roommate, and when he dreams, he dreams of a home filled with warmth and joy and love.

[chvoswxtch]

Hi,

I had a request… I’m currently obsessed with Frank Castle (he’s just so 🥵) and had an idea, it’s not super original so I understand if you don’t want to write it!

A non-binary (they/she) character who is plus-sized and younger than him (in their mid-20s) taking him home to meet her family for the holidays. And she is very insecure and worried about how their family will react. Maybe while there, a family member says something hateful about her weight and/or being non-binary, and Frank goes to comfort/reassure her, and maybe even gets mad and defends her to her family?

Can be smut or just fluff (or both!)

I just thought it would be cute to see his more protective/caring side, mixed with his possessive and angry side. I love that dynamic (:

hello my love!

so i'm not sure if you've watched the bear (i'm still working through it myself) but there's a scene where jon flips a table and goes on a rampage and I just thought that was super fitting for this prompt so I drew a lot of inspiration from that & I hope you enjoy!

I also hope you're having a wonderful day or night wherever you are and that the holidays are being kind to you 🖤

warning: swearing, frank being frank word count: 1.5k

dessert.

It was so quiet in the cab of Frank’s truck, you swore you could almost hear the delicate noise of fresh snowflakes carelessly colliding with the windshield over the dull roar of the heat coming through the vents. The holidays were always a complicated time for you with your family. In the earlier months of the year, there was a welcoming sense of freedom to be exactly who you were without judgment. But when the colder weather started to seep in, so did the impending dread. All you had wanted to do was introduce your family to the man you had fallen in love with, and celebrate your first holiday together in a special way. You had anticipated a little bit of uncomfortable tension, prepared yourself for a few tasteless passive aggressive comments, but you didn’t think it would be this bad.

Bringing Frank home to meet your family hadn’t been the mistake. It was underestimating his protective nature and forgetting the caliber of his restless temper.

Things had already been off to a rocky start as soon as you walked through the door. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be shamelessly sticking to the way your outfit clung to the soft and full curves of your figure. The same outfit that had Frank nearly pulling over to the side of the road impatiently because he couldn’t keep his eyes ahead was currently the topic being whispered about by your aunts. However their attention was quickly stolen as soon as Frank walked in behind you. Their hushed gossip rang loudly in your ears, causing the confidence Frank had built up within you to fizzle out into insecure embers.

He’s so…normal looking. What’s he doing with her?

She’s not a her, remember? She’s…oh I forget what it’s called. Another complicated thing these kids have come up with. I swear it’s something new everyday. I can’t keep up.

He seems much too old for her, and look how fit he is. They seem way too different, there’s no way they’re actually dating.

It only got progressively worse from there. By the time everyone sat down to have dinner, it was like you weren’t even there. Everyone asked Frank a million and one questions, but no one asked you a single thing. No one asked how you were, or how the new job was going that you were so excited about. No one asked how you and Frank met, or how long you had been dating for. Everyone seemed to be trying to figure out the puzzle of what Frank was doing here with you, and eventually, you found yourself trying to solve that exact same riddle. It was almost incredible how your family managed to ruin all the trust and love that the two of you had built up over the past few months. All the promises of reassurance that flowed so easily from his lips seemed to vanish from your memory, and the quieter you got, the angrier Frank became.

He was polite at first, answering the simple questions with appropriate responses, but the more they tried to exclude you from the conversation, the more he tried to aggressively incorporate you into it. His frustration was evident in the way his voice became more rough and coarse, a detail only you were able to pick up on. That should’ve been the first warning bell in your head. But you were so wrapped up in your own insecurities that it didn’t occur to you to reach for his hand under the table to calm him like you normally did when he got worked up. Frank was doing his best to contain his rage at the way your family treated you, but one hateful comment from your alcoholic of an uncle about your weight caused him to erupt.

It all happened so fast, that you were stunned. Your uncle was in the middle of following up his weight comment with an insult about your non-binary identity when Frank suddenly stood and flipped the table out of his way so he could rush forward and strike his fist across your uncle's face. In a split second, everything had descended into chaos. Your mom and aunts were screaming, your father and uncles were trying to pull Frank off your drunk uncle, but they weren’t a match for his strength and tenacity. It wasn’t until you fought your way through them and tugged at Frank’s shirt in a panic that he finally relented and let you drag him out of the house.

For the past fifteen minutes, the two of you had been sitting in his truck where it was parked in front of your family’s house, both of you attempting to calm down. Frank was trying to quell his anger while you were coming down from the shock of what had just happened. The longer you sat in silence watching the waves of snowflakes caress the glass of the windshield, the more uneasy Frank became. Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, he finally couldn’t take the quiet anymore.

“Look I…I didn’t…m’sorry, alright? Can you just…will you please say somethin’?”

“I can’t believe you flipped a table.”

Frank blinked in dumbfoundment a few times, his dark brows pinching together in the center of his forehead. He was expecting you to yell, to go off on him, maybe even break up with him right then and there, but not to hear you sound so amused about his explosive behavior.

“Huh?”

“That was ‘real housewives’ of you.”

When you finally turned to face him, he noticed the faint smirk on your lips, and that one little gesture eased all the anxiety that had been building up within him for the past fifteen minutes. He let out a puff of air through his lips, looking ahead as he shook his head slowly and glanced at his side mirror while trying to fight the crooked grin that threatened to spill across his lips.

“Yeah well, dinner was dull. Thought I’d spice it up a bit.”

“I’d say you spiced it up a lot.”

Frank turned his head to look over at you, and you could see a faint apologetic twinkle in his eye from the glow of the street lamp above.

“You mad?”

It was your turn to look at him in dumbfoundment. Arching one of your brows, you let out a soft laugh while tilting your head to the side in slight curiosity.

“Am I mad that you stuck up for me?”

“I coulda handled it better.”

Scooting over to the middle seat of the cab, you brought your hand up to gently caress his jaw while staring into his warm brown eyes with a soft smile.

“No Frankie, I’m not mad. I promise.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, letting him feel the sincerity behind your words. You weren’t mad at all. No one had ever been so protective or defensive of you before, and while some would’ve thought his reaction was a little extreme, you knew it was just Frank’s way of showing you how much he loved and cared about you.

“Thank you.”

“For ruinin’ the holidays with your family?”

“Baby, they were ruined before we even got here. And honestly, this is the best holiday season I’ve ever had, thanks to you. You made it special for me. It was probably a bad idea to come here, but I just wanted to show you off. Show them all how happy I was. I thought they would be happy for me-”

“Hey, to hell with ‘em. They don’t deserve to see that pretty smile after the way they treated you. That asshole’s lucky I don’t go back in there-”

“Frank.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you redirected his angry glare from your family’s house back towards you as you pulled him in for another soft kiss.

“Let’s just go home. We can order something in.”

Frank took one last irritated look at your family’s house, letting out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Goddamn chicken was dry anyway.”

For some reason the frustration coveting his sharp features and the grumpy tone of his voice just made you laugh. Giving his thigh a gentle squeeze, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and smiled adoringly at him.

“We can have something else for dinner.”

Frank turned his head to look at you, his gaze wandering slowly up and down your figure before settling on your eyes once more. The ravenous look reflected back at you simultaneously sent a shiver down your spine and filled your lower half with a sense of heat. He reached out to place one of his large hands on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze as his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Think I’m ready for dessert, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[popcornforone]

Sweet Like Chocolate

A Lucien Flores Fic

Day 29 of Pedrotober (The Uninvited Prompt)

Masterlist

Rumour has it Lucien we might get to meet soon, I can’t wait. This jammies look… oooh I’ve been sold since that moment. So I wanted to go all soft for this man, because I think I will fall for him hard when I meet him on whatever screen it is.

Synopsis:- You are about to close up the cafe when a last minute customer arrives.

Word Count:- 850

Warnings over & above:- swearing, pain from not paying attention, just nice & soft & fluffy, age gap. This has been written as gender neutral as the reader.

Thanks for the read peoples. This journey really has been something. Thanks to @alyssamariag & @norththelemon for the prompts.

9pm is approaching. Closing time. Finally, you mumble to yourself. You work at a cafe at the back of a petrol station & tonight as deputy manager you are incharge of cleaning & closing & locking up. You’ve cleaned as many tables as possible, no one has been in for an hour & you are busy sorting out all of the syrups & cups when the door opens. You moan a bit too loud, the customer can probably hear you. You sigh & turn around & put in your best happy voice.

“Good evening what can I get you…” you stop. Your mouth is dry. Standing in front of you is not just a customer, but a man. In a floral silk top, with fluffy brown hair. Tailored trousers that cling to all the right places, brown loafers & eyes that entrance anyone. As a college kid you shouldn’t be fantasising in those 5 seconds exactly what this man would do to you but you do. It’s lust at first sight as you try to avert your gaze.

“Erm a hot chocolate with extra cream please to go” he says looking at his phone & then he looks up at you a good few seconds later & you haven’t moved. “Hello…” you jolt back to life. Still trapped under the charms of his good looking spell.

“Sorry sir” you panic “can you repeat that” you’re not being calm.

“A hot chocolate to go, extra cream” he winks. He can see he is having an effect on you. He does a little chuckle & runs his hand through that fluffy hair. You scramble, extremely flustered & aroused & grab the nearest takeaway cup.

“Name?” You manage to splutter out very high pitched.

“There’s no one else here” he says & you do a loud nervous laugh back.

“Sorry force of habit” & you get the milk carton out to start frothing it.

“Busy day?” He asks as he gets out his wallet.

“Mornings are worse on Sundays, everyone gets their car washed” you say frothing the milk.

“Hmmm but a dead quiet evening?”

“Yea, it gets a bit boring from 4pm to 9pm”

“That’s a long shift”

“Something’s gotta pay the rent”

“True” he says & you look up at him & smile, he’s giving back genuine small talk, often customers past 6pm don’t bother. It’s a nod, thanks & then leave without even faining interest at all. His own smile & dimple has you sighing. But you’re not paying attention. The hot milk froths over the top of the jug & drips onto your hand. Youve been doing this long enough to put the jug down & run to the sink in seconds without spilling anything else.

“Fuck” you shout as the cold water hits the already forming blisters. You then suddenly see a large hand grab a plug so the sink fill up with water.

“Keep it in there” he says as you hiss”it will feel better like this” he the caresses your other hand to try & calm you down a bit & it works. Such large hands doing such delicate things.

“Thanks but what about your coffee”

“Hot chocolate…” he says & you both laugh. “I’ll make it, I used to work in cafes it can’t have changed that much in 20 years.” You smile at him. “Just leave your hand in the sink for another 5mins then I’m sure you can point out your first aid box to me.”

The man is a complete gentleman. Making his own hot Chocolate. Strapping a blister plaster to your hand & even helping you tidy up the cafe. You can’t believe it, this man is too good to be true. Why can’t all 8:50pm customers be like this & be handsome.

“How much for the hot chocolate” he says as you turn off the last coffee machine.

“On the house”

“I can’t let you do that, won’t you get in trouble”

“Sir you helped me out when I…”

“You wouldn’t have burnt yourself if i hadn’t come in for a late night pick me up” he raises an eyebrow & hands you $20 “keep the change” he says.

“Thank you mr…”

“Lucien” he says with a smile. “Lucien Flores & I’ll be seeing you again soon, I’m certain of it” he then leans over the counter & captures your lips in a sensual kiss. You feel all jittery, the handsome stranger was either trying to make you feel better or he genuinely wanted the kiss. He is flush too when he breaks from the kiss & grabs what’s left of his hot chocolate & turns to leave. “See you around kid” he says.

You wait & watch him drive off in his McLaren before having a few palpitations as to what just happened holding that $20. You’d really had one hell of a night to end your shift. It’s only then that you realise something is inside your cash you were given. His business card with his phone number highlighted, with pink hearts around it.

“Call me”