#prompt fill: eternal relationship

[calif0rnia-lovers]

safe place.

an: ngl, I wanted to hug jude & bukayo through the screen when England lost😔

requested: I remember seeing that Jude said his mom helps him when he gets "too low with the lows or too high with the highs." Can you do a fic where his gf is that way?

pairing: jude bellingham x black!reader

series: lyrically inspired tales.

if my heart aches, you breathe with me at my pace.

song: safe place by ruthanne

warnings: this is most definitely not edited lol.

The stadium lights had dimmed, and the roar of the crowd had faded into a distant memory, replaced by a haunting silence. Jude Bellingham sat in the quiet of his hotel room, the weight of the Euro final's loss pressing heavily on his shoulders. Exhaustion seeped into his bones—physically, mentally, and emotionally he was tapped. The missed shot that could have changed everything replayed in his mind, a tormenting loop of what-ifs and if-onlys.

He felt utterly drained, each breath a reminder of the effort he had poured into the match. The worst part about losing was feeling like he was at his lowest, despite all the hard work and dedication he had poured in for his country. The memory of the silver medal being draped over his shoulder, the relentless flashes of cameras, and the disappointed faces of fans loomed over him like a dark cloud. He had tried to keep his head up, stopping to hug each of his teammates, whispering words of encouragement, but it still hurt like hell. He had forced a brave face, stifling the sting in his eyes, reassuring his family and friends that he was alright. Keeping up the front until he reached his room had been a monumental task, and now, alone in the dim light, the facade crumbled.

He stared blankly at the wall, the ache of disappointment settling deep within his chest. Hours seemed to drag by, each minute stretching into an eternity. His phone was on Do Not Disturb. Although he knew the messages were meant with the best intentions, Jude wasn’t ready to read the encouraging texts sent to him. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the bus doors closed, needing space to process the defeat alone. The team’s efforts, the dreams of a nation, all seemed to hang on that one moment when his shot had veered just slightly off course.

A knock at the door broke through his reverie. Jude ignored it at first, unwilling to face anyone. If he didn’t call out, whoever it was would go away. But then it came again. 

A single knock, followed by three softer knocks, a distinct rhythm that was all too familiar. It was a special knock. Your special knock, a signal that meant more than words ever could. It prompted him to rise from the bed and cross the room.

Your interaction at the stadium was still a blur. A rushed kiss against his lips, nose, and forehead, a whispered “I love you so much,” was all he could receive before he was moving through the line of friends and family. In the few short hours that had passed, you had showered and changed.

When he opened the door, Jude found you standing there with your travel backpack pressed against your chest.

Jude paused to take you in, grounding himself by focusing on your familiar features. It was a routine he had built over the last six months of your relationship, a way to find solace in the midst of chaos. His eyes passed over your smooth, deep brown skin, which seemed to glow softly in the dim light. He traced the contours of your face, from your cheekbones to your lips that carried a gentle, reassuring smile. The sight of it relaxed the furrow of his brow.

Your eyes, warm and filled with understanding, were his favorite feature. They held a depth of emotion and wisdom that made him feel seen and understood. Your lashes framed them perfectly, long and curled, adding to the natural beauty that always took his breath away. His gaze traveled up to the soft curls, pineappled at the top of your head, his hand instinctively reaching forward.

As he studied you, taking in every detail—his touch tracing the curve of your jaw before settling against your cheek—he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

"Hi," you greeted softly, your voice a balm to his battered spirit.

Jude managed a weak smile, the corners of his lips lifting. "Hey," he replied, his voice rough.

You stepped inside, Jude’s hand instinctively settling on your hips as the door closed.

The scent of lavender and chamomile wafted from the bag you carried, filling the room with a calming aroma. It was a scent that lingered on the sheets of each hotel room Jude stayed in, his bedroom at home, and even in his shirts and jerseys. He associated it with you, and only you—a fragrance that instantly brought relaxation and comfort. Whenever you couldn't make it to his games, Jude would find the aromatherapy tucked away in his bag, a thoughtful gesture that made him feel close to you even when apart.

“My flight leaves at 9:30 tomorrow,” you began as you unzipped the bag. Gathering what you needed, you started towards the bathroom. “So, I’ll probably leave here at 7. I’m sure traffic is going to be insane.”

Jude listened to your voice, the calm cadence soothing his frayed nerves. You didn’t expect a response; you knew him well enough to understand that after a loss, he needed time to recover. So, you verbally went through your travel plans. The turnaround was quick, but you needed to report to work. While slightly annoying, the plan was simple: report home, get back to work, and into your routine. Jude would soon follow.

As you focused on starting the bath, Jude began to look through the items you bought. His hand paused on something small and familiar, tucked beneath his favorite snacks—a stuffed lion. He picked it up, a wave of bittersweet memories washing over him. The lion had a soft, golden mane and big, friendly eyes. Stitched into the pad of its right paw was a heart. Jude remembered the day he won it for you at the Ice Palace, the way your face had lit up with joy, your smile so wide and genuine it had made his heart swell.

"My lion," you’d giggled, hugging the plush toy tightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, your laughter ringing in his ears. “I can keep him with me when you’re away.”

You paused in the bathroom doorway, watching him hold the stuffed lion. "That always makes me feel better when we're apart," you said softly, a smile finding your lips as the shared memory hung between the two of you.

You began to take out and explain the things you had brought to cheer him up—a selection of his favorite snacks, your iPad full of movies, and some comforting toiletries. "I brought these because I thought they might help you relax. And I know how much you love Shawshank Redemption. So...being the gracious, loving girlfriend I am, I will sit through it for the hundredth time. But, only if you promise to share your sour st-"

You were mid-sentence when he moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind. For a moment, you stayed that way, the warmth of his embrace speaking louder than words. Jude buried his face in your shoulder, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape.

You could feel the tremors in his body, his grip tightening as if you were his anchor in the storm of his emotions.

"It's okay," you whispered, turning to face him, the warmth of your palms against his cheeks lifting his eyes to yours. "You gave it everything you had, and that's all anyone can ask for. I'm so proud of you, Jude. You’ve come so far, and this is just a moment in your journey. It's okay to feel hurt and disappointed, but remember that you are stronger than this. Everything happens exactly when it's meant to."

Finally, the dam broke, and Jude rested against you, the tears he’d managed to keep at bay all night came pouring out. He remained pressed against you until the stress of the past few months drained his eyes dry. He allowed you to lead him to the bathroom, welcoming the warm, fragrant steam filled the room, creating a cocoon of comfort. 

He allowed you to help him undress, your movements tender and deliberate, as if you were peeling away not just his clothes but also the layers of his hurt.

"Let's get you in," you murmured softly, as his lips brushed against yours, guiding him into the tub. Jude eased himself into the warm water, letting out a deep sigh as the heat began to soothe his aching muscles and weary mind.

You stepped back to gather the other things you had brought, but Jude's hand gently traced soothing circles into your thigh as you stood by the tub. The simple touch spoke volumes, a silent plea for your presence, for you to stay close.

Jude leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he let the warmth of the bath wash over him. The exhaustion and frustration that had gripped him began to loosen, replaced by a growing sense of peace. He listened as you moved around the room, lighting a few candles and setting out the items you had brought—a fluffy towel, his favorite shampoo, and a soft robe for when he got out. 

You joined Jude in the tub, settling behind him. He welcomed the loofah against his skin, the gentle, rhythmic motion of your hands soothing his frayed nerves. You massaged his shoulders, careful with the one that had been previously injured, as he rested back against you. His hand found its place on his leg, grounding him as he watched the movie playing on the tablet propped nearby.

Your touch worked magic, and you could feel his body gradually relaxing. The tension that had coiled within him slowly unwound, and he seemed to be coming back to himself. The voice in his head, the one that echoed with doubt and personal criticism, grew quieter with each passing moment. Each gentle kiss you pressed against his skin, each laugh you shared from the film, chipped away at the walls of his frustration.

By the time most of the bubbles had dissipated, Jude was completely relaxed. His gratefulness showed in the way he gently squeezed your thigh and the soft kisses he brushed against your knuckles. The warmth of the water, combined with your presence, created a cocoon of comfort and safety. 

He tilted his head back slightly, letting it rest against your shoulder, eyes half-closed in contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, fingers tracing small circles on his chest. "You don’t have to," you replied softly. "I’m here, always."

Jude sighed, a deep, contented breath that seemed to release the last of his lingering tension. He turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for being his anchor in the storm. The doubts that had plagued him earlier were now a distant memory.

The kiss he left against your lips was soft, almost sloppy. The physical and mental strain he's been under from Real Madrid and the Euros suddenly registering. His body begging for sleep.

"Let's get you outta here," you giggled. "I don't think I can carry you to bed if you fall asleep."

You press against the corner of his mouth, the action stopping the closing of his heavy eyelids. "Come on, Jude."

"Mmm...hold up..." Jude mumbled, eyes drifting shut as your lips brushed against his. Brow arching, his smirk prompting your eyes to roll. "...I'm not even tired."

"Uh-huh," stifling your giggle, you watch as Jude nods. His heavy eyes blinking before dropping down to your smile.

"'m not," he mumbled, his kiss missing your lips and settling on your chin.

A series of soft and light kiss lingered against your jaw, drifting to your shoulder. As much as he tried to fight off the comfortable sleeping tugging at him, Jude couldn't resist. By the time he reached your lips, a tired and goofy smile stretched across Jude's lips.

"Alright," he relented. "Let's go, but we gonna finish this in the morning."

"I'm sure we will," you smiled.

You place a final kiss against his lips. The brushing of your nose against his pulling out the smile that left you the victim of constant butterflies and euphoria. Before Jude knew it, the words slipped out.

"I love you," he murmured, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate promise. "Thanks for this."

The words halted your movement of slipping from beneath him, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. It was the first time he had said it aloud. You had never pressured him for those words, knowing that he showed his love in countless other ways. Just as you did for him.

"I love you too, Jude," you replied as his lips found your forehead.

Letting his lips pass over your nose, Jude pushed himself.

[sorrowfulmuse]

Can I request a OPLA sanji x fem!reader fluffy story please? If you don’t like writing for Sanji, I’d also be fine with OPLA Luffy or OPLA Buggy.

Please and thank you. :)

♡ :: "opla!sanji x fem!reader." short imagine!

mentions/warnings:: nothing, just two pirates being in love although others had misunderstandings about your relationship but.. watch out for typos and whatnot, i am writing this at 4am TT also this will be a simple imagine as i’m rusty and didn’t know what prompt i should’ve used. 😭

p.s im sorry it took me so long!!! i got caught with a few things and almost finished it last night

✧ soft secret kisses being shared, longing touches and love affirmations being whispered into each others ears. sanji was floating on cloud9 every time he was near y/n, no other person could amount to her. not even a Goddess could compare to her beauty and light. she was everything to him, his universe.

sanji relished in her presence every time he was near her, his heart drumming to every kiss she left on his lips and ‘i love yous’. she was his own personal paradise. she hung the stars for him and he worshiped her for it.

although, in love and happy.. they never stated in their relationship to others, were they both single? were they long time friends? ex lovers perhaps? sanji being a flirt again? people had only guessed and assumed they both spoken for by other people. today, was very different that from that spotlight cause well,

"my love, you have to keep your eyes closed!" sanji laughed as he tried his best to guide to this ‘gift’ he kept talking about for weeks. "oh cmon handsome! can’t i just take a little peak?" y/n.. trying to use her charms against him was to no avail, sanji wasn’t going to give up and continued to lead her to his gift. "i wanna see your reaction so no peaks!"

y/n's palms were sweating, when questioned? she could only blame it on the summers heat. she was nervous, nervous about what sanji could possibly gift her. were they running away from the culinary life? the overbearing thoughts had consumed her in the worst ways possible until,

"okay, we’re here." he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her back. she almost didn’t want the blindfold off soon as the bright lights were hard to adjust to. "why.." now she was left speechless, a little hidden spot on a island, sanji had decorated the nature around them with beautiful colorful lanterns, bouquets filled with many sweets of her favorite candies and flowers. petals laid on the ground, kissed by more roses after roses.

"sanji.. what is this?" it was unusual for him to be this quiet.

turning to find him down on knee with a small box in his one palm while the other still held hers. "my y/n, we’ve hip to hip since the moment we were both stuck on that rock with zeff. we stuck with each other as we discovered the same passion for food, owing our own restaurant together and many more.. but i want something more than that. no, i need more. i want you and i.. to be happy and healthy forever."

tears flooded against y/n's eyes, "i know it’s just a ring but it’ll symbolize something in the future, anything you want! i just.. i.." now sanji was close to tears himself. "y/n.. will you be my wife?" without a word, the girl before him tackled him to the ground crying her heart out. "of course i will sanji!" they both laid there, crying and kissing each other. "oh! i thought you’ll never ask!" y/n giggled, (she knew) throughout the night they celebrated their engagement, celebrating to spending eternity together.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

You will become it

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

summary: When Frank lets the stress of the holidays get to him, he accidentally pushes you away.

Based on the prompt that @hellskitchenswhore posted about: Thanksgiving or Christmas Day with either Matt or Frank, inspired by the quote "If you’re raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. You will find him even when he is not there"

warnings: swearing, descriptions of anxiety, allusions to past trauma

a/n: Ugh I could write a MILLION of these because it's so relatable. I hope that this brings you all some comfort this holiday season.

w/c: 3.1k

To no one’s surprise, Frank fucking hated the holidays. After losing Maria and the kids, it was just a horrible time of year filled with bitterness over the gap in his life and the fact he’d never have a normal winter again. 

He tended to throw himself into his vigilante work, bringing the most permanent form of justice to assholes all over the city. Thanksgiving and Christmas were spent alone, unless you considered his guns valuable company, eating bland food and steeling himself against the shitty weather because he was too stubborn to buy a thicker coat. 

But then he’d met you. 

Karen had introduced you over the past summer, sort of. He’d stumbled onto the blonde’s fire escape in the middle of the night—startling the two of you who were having some kind of girls’ night after a tough week. And once Frank had collapsed, unconscious, onto the metal grates he stood on, Karen was forced into an explanation to prevent you from calling the cops. 

You’d adjusted to the knowledge that your best friend was willingly helping a fugitive faster than anyone expected—immediately jumping in with wide eyes and assisting Karen as she cleaned and dressed Frank’s numerous wounds. 

When he came to, he was settled on Karen’s couch, blankets draped over his lap. Across the room, you sipped from a wine glass as you flipped through the pages of a book. He’d hoarsely asked what you were reading and, after the initial shock from him speaking to you had worn off, you’d smiled and asked if he wanted to read with you. 

Frank was eternally smitten by your thoughtful nature. You were an angel on earth and, for some fucking reason, you were determined to brighten Frank’s life with your company, though he repeatedly reminded you that he didn’t deserve you. Despite his bumbling compliments and gruff personality, you’d eagerly agreed when he’d asked you out to dinner a week after meeting you—and you’d been together ever since. 

You hadn’t been dating long, your relationship still fresh enough to count the months spent together on one of his rough hands, but his perpetual grouchiness was slowly being chipped away by your adorable smile and apparent need to spend the majority of your time tucked against his side. 

Frank had fallen head over heels for you at the speed of light, so saying “no” to your sparkling doe eyes when you batted your lashes at him was damn near impossible. Which was how he found himself in his current predicament. 

While out at a bar with you and your colleagues at Nelson, Murdock, and Page, Red—always the antagonist—had smugly asked him if he intended to spend the holidays with you. It wasn’t a secret amongst your circle that you weren’t overly close with your family. One too many bad memories had resulted in a quieter holiday season without said family, a preferred alternative to the hours of manipulation and abuse you’d previously endured during the winter months. 

Frank was aware that you didn’t have family plans for Christmas, perfectly comfortable welcoming you into his house for an intimate few days complete with fantastic food (that the two of you would cook together) and cuddling in front of the fireplace as you nodded off. You agreed that it had been the perfect way to spend Thanksgiving, so Frank had assumed you’d be alright having a similar Christmas celebration. 

And maybe you would have, had Karen not suggested that Frank host a Christmas celebration at his place for a larger group. 

“Frank, you’ve been bragging about the turkey you cooked for a week. It’s honestly rude of you to withhold that from us.” She remarked, smirking at his resulting scowl. 

“And on the holiest day of the year too.” Murdock shook his head, shit-eating grin spreading across his face as Frank scoffed. 

“Fuck you, Red. We don’t wanna host your sleazy ass for Christmas. Right, sweetheart?” Frank’s confidence had vanished when he saw your bashful shrug. 

Avoiding his gaze, you picked at the label on your beer bottle. “I dunno, Frankie. I don’t think I’d mind a few more people…” Your voice was quiet, hesitant, but there was a hopeful edge to it that he couldn’t ignore. 

It took him all of 3 seconds to cave to your apprehensively optimistic gaze, his heart melting as you bit your lip nervously. “Sure, darlin’. What the hell?” 

He was regretting his hasty agreement now, though. 

Standing in his kitchen, surrounded by Karen, Matt, Curtis, and—thankfully—you on December 23rd, trying desperately to get the cheese sauce for his mac and cheese to combine properly as the four of you drank beer and laughed boisterously around him. As always, you were more helpful than anyone else, offering soft praises and sweet smiles as you cooked side by side, but Frank’s irritation was steadily building and even you couldn’t stop it. 

It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept well all week, familiar nightmares viciously overtaking his subconscious as soon as he closed his eyes. And the lack of sleep, combined with the way his head was pounding as he worried over the pot on the stove, meant his patience was thinner than a fishing line. 

“For fucks sake, thought y’all were here for a goddamn reason. Is this a social event now?” Frank groused, whirling around to face the four people in his kitchen as yet ANOTHER cheese sauce failed to form smoothly. 

You all fell silent, though everyone but you rolled their eyes at his grumpy tone. Not used to this side of Frank, your face fell—eyes widening as your partner barked orders, creating a much different atmosphere than the peaceful one that had surrounded your perfect Thanksgiving. Shuffling backwards a step, you stood rigid as a statue as Frank scowled. 

“Karen, wash the China I took out. Curt, chop those veggies. Murdock, peel those potatoes.” He pointed to each of them in turn before turning to you. “And clearly I can’t make this shit to save my life so you figure it out while I iron the table cloth.” 

Nodding dutifully, you removed the pot behind his hips from the heat, scraping the lumpy bechamel into the trash before making another roux. You knew Frank didn’t mean to snap at you, he was just on edge about hosting the gathering. No one else was concerned about his demeanor, so why should you be? Trying to quell the churning anxiety in your chest, you diligently completed every task you were given, silently whipping up a number of sides as the sun began to set. 

Eventually, the five of you had prepped everything but the turkey, including the decorations and table set up. Waving farewell to the other three sous chefs, you lingered by the door as you closed it behind them. 

You and Frank had previously agreed that you’d stay over for a few nights to watch Christmas movies and bake cookies, your two favorite traditions that you hadn’t shared with anyone for a few years. However, after witnessing his clear frustration, you were apprehensive. Did he still want you to stay? 

Because of your history with men taking their anger out on you, Frank’s discontent had brought out a side of you that you never wished to experience again. You were still pretty sure he hadn’t meant it, but your certainty was fading by the minute. 

Stepping back into the kitchen, you began scrubbing at the pots in the sink as quietly as possible, hoping that if you handled the rest of the work in silence, Frank wouldn’t have any reason to be upset with you anymore. Unfortunately for your nervous heart, Frank’s mood wasn’t quite over. 

“The fuck are you doin’,” Came a harsh voice from behind you. 

Willing yourself not to startle, you stayed facing the sink, your back to your raging boyfriend. “Just cleaning up, love.” Your voice was meek, but it luckily didn’t waver. 

“And I ain’t capable of doin’ that myself?” His stern response hit you like a brick. Shutting off the faucet, you wiped your hands on a towel and turned to face him, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Of course I think you’re capable. I wanted to help you, I—“

“It’s funny, really. Y’all wanted me to host this goddamn thing and you don’t think I can do my own fuckin’ dishes?” Frank looked at you, incredulously. He never asked for your pity. 

“Frankie—“

“I don’t need your help. Get out.” He said, jerking his head to shoo you out of the room. 

Choking on an inhale, your eyes stung with unshed tears. “O-ok, Frankie.”

As he restarted the stream of scalding water, you gathered your things and headed out into the night. 

Turning off the tap, Frank dried his hands before surveying his kitchen with a satisfied nod. Banishing you from the kitchen was rude—he knew that—but, ultimately, it had allowed him to unwind while efficiently tidying up the sprawling mess that had manifested during a day of cooking. Exhaling forcefully, Frank felt a pang of guilt in his gut as he remembered how abrasively he'd treated you today. Ready to beg for your forgiveness, and offer a few ways he might be able to make it up to you, he strode over to the couch where he figured you were laying. 

“Sorry for kickin’ ya out of the room, sweetheart. Guess I needed a minute to calm down. Did ya still wanna watch a movie?” Rounding the arm of the couch to kneel before you, Frank was hit with a wave of dread as he was met with the sight of empty cushions. Treading into the bedroom, his bed was similarly bare, and his bathroom was dark and vacant. 

Heart rate spiking, he spun around in the main room of his apartment, looking for any sign of your whereabouts. Your purse and coat were gone. You’d left, but why?

Suddenly, a chilling thought occurred to him as he replayed your previous conversation. 

“I don’t need your help. Get out.”

He hadn’t clarified that he still wanted you here. You thought he had demanded that you leave the apartment altogether, not the kitchen while he worked. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Scrambling for his phone, he snatched his keys and flew down the stairs as he dialed your number. The phone rang endlessly as he sprinted to his truck down the block. Eventually, he received your voicemail. FUCK. 

Turning his keys in the ignition, he called again. “C’mon, darlin’. Please pick up.” 

Getting your voicemail again, Frank growled in frustration, before his screen lit up with a text. 

You: Hey, bubba. I can’t talk at the moment. Is something wrong? Are you alright?

Closing his eyes in relief, and gritting his teeth as he was smacked with another wave of guilt, he cursed himself. “Of course I’m not alright,” He thought to himself, “I sent you away, sweetheart.” 

Flicking open his phone, he hastily typed out a question. 

Frank: Are you at your place?

You: Yes, love. 

Frank: I’ll be there soon. 

Speeding down the city streets, Frank couldn’t help but wish he’d realized his mistake earlier. Maybe a flower shop would've been open then. 

Chewing absently at your thumbnail, a new rush of tears rolled down your cheeks. God, you were such a coward. You’d avoided Frank’s call because you simply couldn’t handle him yelling at you for whatever you’d done to upset him. Instead, you’d texted him, hoping to hide behind a wall of messages as he explained your mistake. But it hadn’t worked that way, he was coming here. To scold you. Maybe even break up with you. 

The thought of Frank leaving you because of something you’d unknowingly done to offend him forced the air from your lungs with a sob. Desperately trying to get your emotions under control, you threw back the wine in your glass as you stared blankly towards the door. 

The footsteps in the hall were deafening, each one sending a chill down your spine as you willed your aching legs to hold you upright. A key scratched in your lock and the door slid open, the large shadow of your boyfriend extending into your apartment. Huffing out a breath as he addressed you, Frank frowned at your tear-streaked face. 

“You cannot just leave like that,” He explained, shutting the door with a loud bang that made you jump. “Did you walk home? It’s dark out!” 

Frank stepped forward, reaching his arms toward you and ice flooded your veins as you responded to the familiar motion. 

Stumbling backwards, you curled in on yourself. “I’m sorry, Frank. I’m so sorry. So sorry.” Tears splattered on the floor beneath your downcast face. You were trembling, terrified of being screamed at, or worse. 

That was when it all clicked for Frank. Your wide eyes as he bossed you around. The way your jaw remained clenched for hours as you cooked. The lack of your giggles and quips and smiles for the majority of the day. You were afraid. He’d made you afraid. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice broke as you sobbed, just out of his reach. Each of your choked inhales broke off another piece of his shattered heart. “Oh, honey, no. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Crouching in front of you, keeping enough distance to hopefully not spook you further, Frank brought his hands into a placating gesture. As he exposed his palms to you, you looked at him with glassy eyes. “Darlin’ I’m not upset with you. I ain’t ever been upset with ya, not once. I was grouchier than normal today and I didn’t realize I was being too cruel. I ain’t mad, sweet girl. Could never be mad at my sweetheart.” 

You nodded, but didn’t seem to be registering his words. Crumbling to the floor in front of him, you were practically hyperventilating at this point, stuttering through apologies between shallow breaths. 

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna choke. Let’s sit on the couch for a minute.” Supporting your weight as you collapsed into his chest, Frank scooped you up and carried you over to the couch. He settled down, sitting your shaking body in his lap. Shushing you gently, he tucked your head under his chin, running a broad hand along your spine. “Breathe, sweet girl. Can’t have my baby suffocatin’ because of my dumb ass.” 

Breathing deeply to demonstrate the action for you, Frank eventually felt your body still, your inhales evening out. 

“‘M so sorry, Frankie.” You whispered hoarsely against his neck. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, my beautiful girl. You were just tryin’ to help. I’m sorry for bein’ such an ass.” Pulling back from you to study your face, Frank brought a hand up to cradle your jaw as he swiped away the remaining tears from your damp cheeks. “I didn’t mean to send ya home, darlin’. I just wanted you to sit on the couch while I cleaned up.” Continuing quickly as he watched your lips part with another apology, he added, “That ain’t your fault either. It definitely seemed like I was kickin’ ya out. That’s also on me.”

Nodding hesitantly, you leaned into him with a tired sigh. “Ok.”

“Did ya want me to leave, sweetheart? I know I scared you,” 

“No!” Your hand came up to grasp his jacket, clinging to him fearfully. “Don’t leave me, Frankie, please.” 

“Hey, hey, I ain’t leavin’ unless you want me to, darlin’.” Frank promised, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’m here as long as you’ll put up with me.” 

“I don’t want you to leave.” You murmured, tracing a finger over the folds in his lapel. 

“Then I’ll be here.” He assured you, stroking a hand over your back once again as he reclined, tugging you on top of him and covering you both with a blanket from the back of your couch. “Right here. Always.”

 The pair of you sat in silence for a spell, focusing on getting your breathing back under control. Eventually, Frank pressed another kiss to your head before offering an explanation. “I shouldn’t have snapped atcha, sweet girl. I was tired, and irritated, and I let it out on all of you. That ain’t fair and I’ll try to keep my cool next time.” 

Nodding gratefully against him, you mumbled a quivering “Thank you.” 

“Of course, doll. I scared ya when I kicked ya out?” He asked, hoping you’d clarify so he could prevent this panic in the future. 

“Mmhmm.” You confirmed. “I, um, I don’t do well when people raise their voices. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be sensitive.” 

“Hey now,” Frank admonished as gently as he could. “I like my sensitive girl. I’ll try not to yell. I didn’t know it would bother you so much, darlin’.” 

You shrugged. “People got angry with me a lot when I was a kid. Especially the men in my family. Maybe I was an easy target, I don’t know. But I jump to conclusions now because of it.” 

“That makes sense, honey. That’s your brain tryin’ to protect you from big scary guys like me.” Frank joked, but you poked his chest. 

“You’re not scary,” You chided. “Just big.” 

He chuckled at that. “Well, I’ll try to keep bein’ ‘not scary’ and promise to listen whenever you choose to warn me about this stuff, ok?” 

“Ok.” You agreed, lips twitching into a faint smile as he brushed his nose into your hair. Turning your face to his, your lips met in a sweet kiss. 

“Have I done anythin’ else that bothers ya?” Frank asked, fear sparking in his chest. 

Shaking your head vehemently, you snuggled into him. “No. You’re wonderful.” 

“Ok. Just tell me, darlin’. I never want ya to be afraid of me.”  

“‘M not afraid of you, Frankie. Promise.” 

“Ok, sweetheart. Did ya wanna go to bed, or stay here for a bit?” 

“Could we go to your place?” You asked timidly. 

“Of course, love. But only if you let me carry you out to the car. My poor girl has had a rough day and it’s my job to make that up to her.” 

You giggled. “Mmm kay.” 

Frank spoke quietly to you as you traveled back to his apartment, talking about the book he was reading and what he was excited about for the holiday. You remained quiet, the exhaustion of your panic attack weighing on you, but you were filled with a pleasant warmth as Frank shared more of himself with you. 

Once he’d carried you into his home and tucked you into bed, you were barely awake. 

“Sleep well, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Comforted by Frank’s rumbling promise, you drifted off, dreaming only of his smiling face. 

[paladin--strait]

Could you do prompt 15 with Nico? I feel like it could be cute, almost like mom and dad hosting dinner especially for rookies

the table is set, plates and silverware lining the long wooden table that sits in nico and i's dining room. we just recently bought a nice house, hoping to grow and expand our small family. right now, we only have our dog, jersey.

as part of our housewarming party, we invited the entire devils team to come and eat dinner with us. unfortunately, some couldn't make it, but the table was still slammed full with the large, tall, and muscular hockey players.

i start to put the food on the table with nico's help and it fills up quickly. when the players arrive, we welcome them in and give them a small and quick house tour before we sit at the table to eat.

nico stands and gives a speech of some sort, thanking everyone for coming and for their housewarming gifts. he also talks about the upcoming season and welcomes in the new rookie and senior players to the devils team. he raises a glass for a toast, and everyone clinks their glasses.

the dinner seems to last an eternity, but it's filled with laughter over some events of last season and excitement for the season that's coming up quickly.

nico looks so happy and content with his team. he talks to me about how they are like a second family to him. he feels bad about being captain sometimes, since it put a toll on some of his friendships with his teammates. but, nico still loves them like brothers. always has and always will.

nico turns to look at me, smiling wide with happiness. he gives me a look to make sure i'm okay, and i give him a thumbs up. he leans in and gives me a kiss on the lips, it's short and sweet, but filled with love and thankfulness. he never fails to amaze me at how well he can show his emotions. i used to think he was so closed off, but the more you get to know him, the more comfortable he gets, just like many relationships other than ours.

after dinner is finished, nico helps me load the plates and silverware onto the rolling kitchen cart we bought for occasions like this and we bring it to the kitchen. i decide that i'll load the dishes into the dishwasher later and hope most of them fit, but they probably won't.

when i step back into the dining room, it's quiet. there is nobody in sight and their belongings are gone too. i frown, wondering where they went. i pick up my phone and set off to find them. i search everywhere, the last place being the first place i should've checked.

the home rink. i hear the sounds of men yelling and laughing when i walk in the door. they're running around on the synthetic ice in their dress shoes. they have sticks in their hands and they're chasing around a puck. i walk over to the boards and stand beside nico. "looks like they're enjoying it." i say, giggling.

nico chuckles, "as soon as you left to go to the kitchen with the cart they were begging me to bring them out here to play." i watch him while he speaks, but turn to watch the guys once he's done. i lean my head on his side, and he pulls his arm up to wrap around the back of my shoulders. "thank you, for always supporting me. i don't think i would be here without you, my love."

he kisses the top of my head and then leans his head on mine. i stifle a giggle and wrap my arms around his torso, leaning into him further. i'll always love the devils team. it doesn't matter if nico gets traded for or not, i'll still love them.

[emeritusemeritus]

Could I get a Weasley twins x female reader where they have an established relationship and drunk one night confesses that one of the twins is *bigger* but you don't remember which one at the moment and they offer to help you remember and then at some point in the smut of it all the twins take turns thrusting in one at a time like Fred in then George then Fred and etc...

Hi Anon! This request has made me genuinely feral and I couldn’t wait to start writing this! 🖤

Warnings: SMUT, descriptive & graphic smut, slight humiliation kink? Possessiveness, sex games, the twins compete. Competition, reader has to chose. Use of petnames.

Word count: 2.1k

The Bigger person.

You really weren't sure what had led to this very moment, memory a little blurry from the alcohol, but whatever or however you got here, you were eternally thankful that you did.

You spent the night dancing, drinking and catching up with your girlfriends in London, having a good time and letting loose. You'd gotten home safely, had something to eat upon returning back to the flat and sobered up slightly until you were joined by your boyfriends on the couch, recounting the stories you'd been told and laughing about the night. It had taken a turn just around then when you'd disclosed a certain piece of information to the twins that you usually kept close to your chest, but the drink had loosened your lips and had created the very situation you were facing.

Your clothes had been unceremoniously ripped off on route to the bedroom, as had most of your boyfriends' attire. It was a rush of kisses and touches, little spanks and a lot of manhandling which always made you aroused past the point of rationality. You'd been bent over on the bed, face pressed into the pillows as the twins surrounded you, bantering back and forth as they watched your naked figure squirm for them.

George had pulled one of his silken ties from the dresser and had tied it around your eyes into a makeshift blindfold which only prompted your other senses to become heightened, leading to you feeling desperately aroused for them both.

"Can you tell who I am?" One of them asks from your left side, his hand ghosting over your arched back and over the curve of your ass that was completely on display for him.

"Georgie," you say with a breathlessness that only came on from being so painfully ready.

"Good girl," he says, his finger slipping between your folds until he lingers around your weeping hole, teasing and torturing you as you squirm to get him to penetrate you. When his finger eventually slip inside you, it's like pure torture and sheer relief all at the same time. When his finger pulls away, you let out an exaggerated whine, feeling the loss of him beside you.

"Still can't remember who's bigger sweet girl?" A voice from behind you says, which you're almost certain is Fred.

That's exactly what got you here, like this. A slip of the tongue, an accident, in which you'd disclosed to your boyfriends that one of them was slightly 'bigger'. You knew George had a slight upwards curve to his cock and Fred was a tad wider  utnyly judt couldn't remember which of them could reach that spot deep inside you that made you breathless.

"Wanna find out?" The second voice said from your right side, which you thought was George.

"Please," you begged, not particularly caring about the game they were playing, you just wanted to be fucked, to be filled.

"Think we should get her remember mate?" One of the twins says to the other. It's almost sinful how wet this makes you, their playful banter talking about you without actually including you, like you're just a fuck toy to them.

"I reckon we need to," the other agrees, "wouldn't want our girl to forget would we?"

"Turns?" They say at the same time, apparently thinking the exact same thing as a hand creeps over the curve of your bum, watching as you squirm for attention.

"What'd'you think sweetheart? We each take a turn and you try to tell us who's bigger? And if you guess the right brother we'll let's you cum."

It feels like you're burning from the inside out, from Fred's words alone never mind the hand that was caressing your skin, across your back and over your bum.

"Please, please," you beg quietly, pleads muffled as your face presses into the pillow.

You hear a deep chuckle and you can't help but try and close your legs at the noise, desperate for some friction.

When the first twin lines themselves up with your waiting hole, you hold your breath in anticipation, too overwhelmed with the need to be filled. The first thrust has you gasping into the pillow, the semi-forceful but still delicate thrust making it impossible for you to think of anything other than the cock inside you.

"Any clues?" One of them says behind you but you can't determine who. There's no hands on you, no nicknames or whispered praises, only the feel of their rigid cock grazing your inner walls. You let out a sigh of disappointment as you felt them remove themselves from you after only that initial thrust but then gasped when you felt another cock lining up with you and this time pushing in with less hesitation.

You cried out into the pillow as they pushed in, filling you completely and holding themselves deep inside you, keeping their hips flushed with yours. Was it the other twin, a different cock? Or was it the same?

Another cry filled the air as you felt them pull out and be replaced by the other, this time you knew for definite as you felt the bed shift as someone else took their place.

Over and over you felt them thrust into you, one at a time and taking turns, feeling every inch of their perfect cocks without any resolution to the burning desire you were feeling. It was pure torture, having them right where you needed them but only for one single thrust, absolutely not what you needed from them.

"Any takers?" One of them says as they thrust into you harshly, making a gasp emit from your throat. "Who am I baby? You know my cock?"

"Or mine?" The second one says, thrusting deep as soon as his twin had retreated.

For the first time you can feel a slight hint at who it was, the second that their place a hesitant hand to your hip before quickly pulling away. Your eyes are closed as you reach a slight subspace, too consumed by the feel of them to allow any of your other senses to work properly. It's George, it had to be. The delicious curve of his cock drags across your upper walls as he sinks in to you, the ghost of a hand on your hip being the dead giveaway. George held your hip whereas Fred would have grabbed and left bruises. George liked to drag out every thrust, forcing you to feel him slowly filling you whereas Fred was often rougher, quicker in pace. George's curve served him well, pressed against that delicious spot inside of you that made you see stars whereas Fred's girth seemed to make you breathless even without needing to be in more than just his tip. But who was bigger?

"George!" You cried out, taking the chance and as soon as you called out his name, his hands fell to your hips and he began thrusting wildly into you, not pulling out or stopping as they had for what seemed like hours. You'd been right.

"But who's bigger?" He says, pulling you back just enough so that you're face is no longer pushed into the pillow.

"I- I don't know," you say weakly as you try and canter your hips to get him to fuck you again.

You cry out in frustration as George suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and increasingly annoyed at the game they were playing .

Suddenly, Fred's whole length is shoved inside you without warning, his big hands coming to grab at your hips as he fucks deep, holding you tightly in place. You automatically squirm to alleviate the pressure from deep inside you but his grip is so strong you can hardly move.

“Still don’t know, pretty girl?” You can hear the smirk in his voice even over the sound of your deep breaths, trying to steady yourself against the feeling of him so deep, so far up you’re certain he’s in your guts.

“Freddie!” You cry out, trying to get him to fuck you, “you said I could cum, I guessed right!”

“Yeah we did,” both of them say at the same time, making your walls clench around Fred’s length.

“Who’s bigger sweetheart?”

You don’t want to say, don’t want to upset either of them even though you know it’s Fred. It’s only maybe an inch, if that, and you’re sure the wider girth of his cock is making him seem even bigger but you couldn’t say, not out loud.

“You’re both-.”

You can’t even finish your sentence as he suddenly starts pounding you, taking what he wants from your little dripping hole. You cry out, head thrown back at the feeling and you feel yourself building up to an almighty climax after almost no time at all, so wound up from their torturous teasing.

“Cum sweetheart, let me feel you,” Fred says between ragged breaths as his grip doubles down on your hips. It’s rare that you can cum so effortlessly without any clit stimulation but between their game, your vulnerable and exposed position and the extended teasing, you were feeling ready to cut almost immediately.

“Freddie!Fred!” You chat as you feel yourself falling over the edge, earning a generous and ridiculously sexy moan from Fred as he feels your walls tightening around him. He cums not a second later after you ride out your peak, your fingers digging into the soft bedsheets below you, pillows smushed into your face. His cum feels blazing hot as it fills you, his roar echoing through the room as he releases everything he has deep inside you, once again keeping you as far down on his cock as you can go.

“Wanna feel who cums more?” You hear from beside you, a hand stroking over your spine as you turn your head weakly to look at George who’s smirking at you, cock still hard.

You nod pathetically into the soft pillow, letting out a whine as you feel Fred pull out of you.

“Roll over Angel, want to see your beautiful face.”

He helps you shift, knees locking from being in the same position for so long. Your hair fans out against the pillows as you look up with half-lidded and tired eyes at George who climbs on top of you, smirking and with wandering eyes. He leans down and kisses over your breasts, your nipples hardening under his tongue. You cry out when his hand makes contact with your swollen and neglected clit, circling it just how he knows you like.

“You ready for me Angel?”

“Yes Georgie,” You say, eyebrows knitted together as you focus on the pleasure from his fingers, never wanting him to stop.

He pulls away only to line his cock up with your pussy as you feel him slowly sink it, drawing out that first thrust until he begins wildly thrusting into you, pulling your leg up onto his shoulder. His left hand holds your leg whilst his right hand sinks down to play with your clit again making almost inhuman noises fall from your lips. In this position he always seems to get exactly the right angle to drive you crazy, to hit all the spots that he knew Fred couldn’t.

“Not gonna last Angel, want you to cum with me.”

He begins circling just a little faster around your sensitive nub and your hips begin to buck wildly against his only thrusts, making him fuck you harder, deeper.

“Fuck!” He cries out as his hips stutter, his cup already shooting deep into you. You didn’t think you could be any fuller than you felt already but as he pours his load deep into you, fucking it deeper and deeper, you feel like you’ll explode. And you do. Your orgasm hits you like a steam train, walls wildly clenching and squeezing on their own accord as the overwhelming amount of cum trickles out of you even around George’s softening cock.

When he finally pulls out of you, he sits back on his haunches trying to catch his breath as you do the same, only lying down spread out on the bed, completely unfazed by your nudity.

Fred hops back on the bed beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, not having bothered to re-dress during your time with George.

You’re completely sober now, at least in terms of alcohol- you feel completely cock drunk.

“What’s the verdict sweetheart?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows and you look up at him in disbelief. Even George shoots his twin a look of disbelief as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t know, you’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

“Best 2 out of 3?”

“Yeah.”

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Is combining prompts allowed? In case it is, could you possibly do 19. “you look so pretty right now” + 47. “breathe for me” for Robert Downey Jr involving lots of soft aftercare 🥺😌

A day of firsts

PAIRING || Professor!Robert Downey Jr. x College Student!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 975 words

SUMMARY || Today is filled with firsts for you and your boyfriend, Robert. He has invited you over for dinner at his house for the first time, and it feels freeing not to have to sneak around on Campus because while he is your boyfriend, he's also still your professor.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || RPF. Established relationship. Large age gap. Secret relationship. Explicit sexual content. Crying after sex. Robert is the best boyfriend ever.

SMUT || Praise. Dirty talk. Sir kink. Hair pulling. Cockwarming. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Overstimulation. Aftercare.

A/N || This is written for my Summer of Drabbles. It was fun revisiting Professor Downey again, and I cannot thank @ccbsrmsf1 enough for inspiring this amazing story! This is not proofread; any and all mistakes are my own. 🤍

Photo: @ccbsrmsf1 || Other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Robert Downey Jr. || Summer of Drabbles

Today is filled with firsts for you and your boyfriend, Robert. He has invited you over for dinner at his house for the first time, and it feels freeing not to have to sneak around on Campus because while he is your boyfriend, he's also still your professor.

"That's it, Sweetheart; you look so pretty right now," he groans as you slowly work yourself onto his thick, curved, and veiny cock. He's seated with his back against the large headboard of his king-size bed, his hands on your hips while yours are lying on his shoulders to ground yourself through the overwhelming pleasure.

"S so big, Sir," you mutter, pleasure quickly becoming too much. At this angle, you're feeling him deeper than you ever had before, and while you enjoy it, it's also a lot all at once.

"Hmm, I know it is, but I also know you can take it, Sweet Girl. I've seen you take my cock in your tight, perfect little pussy countless times in my office, and I know you want to be my good girl today," he says, the eye contact being even more intimate than usual.

"Y-yes, Sir, your g-good girl," you answer, your hips rolling a bit as you get used to his size, a moan slipping from your lips as you do. Robert pulls you against his chest, his lips finding yours effortlessly, and your hands move into his locks, pulling gently as you get lost in his taste.

His tongue slips past your lips while his hands keep working your hips down onto him, and he happily swallows your moan when you're sitting down fully, taking him from his leaking tip to the hairy base, your arousal leaking down his balls and onto the mattress.

"There you go, Sweetheart. Good fucking girl," he purrs in your ear, his hands squeezing gently as he nibbles on your earlobe - one of his favorite places to tease you with, knowing how sensitive you are there.

Pleasure courses through your veins as you lean back and cup your boyfriend's cheeks, his gaze soft as he drinks in the way your features light up as you're seated on his lap, cock nestled deep inside your clenching walls.

Without thinking, you lean forward to place a small kiss on his perfect nose, immediately followed by a giggle that warms Robert's heart as soon as the angelic sound reaches his ears.

"I love you, Sweetheart. I love your laugh and how your eyes light up when I praise you, but most of all, I love you. You've made my life a whole lot better since I met you, and I cannot thank you enough for that, Sweet Girl. You have made me love life again, and for that, I will spend eternity thanking you in every way I can possibly think of," he says, his voice soft as your hands are splayed over his hairy chest.

"Y-you... love me?" you ask, uncertainty laced in your voice. While you have known for a while you love Robert, you have always been scared to tell him, afraid of pushing him away.

"I do, Sweetheart. And I don't expect you to say it back, I know it's still early in our relationship, but-"

Today is filled with firsts for you and your boyfriend, Robert. He has invited you over for dinner at his house for the first time, and it feels free not to have to sneak around on campus because while he is your boyfriend, he's also still your professor.

"That's it, Sweetheart; you look so pretty right now," he groans as you slowly work yourself onto his thick, curved, and veiny cock. He's seated with his back against the large headboard of his king-size bed, his hands on your hips while yours are lying on his shoulders to ground yourself through the overwhelming pleasure.

"S so big, Sir," you mutter, pleasure quickly becoming too much. At this angle, you're feeling him deeper than you ever had before, and while you enjoy it, it's also a lot all at once.

"Hmm, I know it is, but you can take it, Sweet Girl. I've seen you take my cock in your tight, perfect little pussy countless times in my office, and I know you want to be my good girl today," he says, the eye contact being even more intimate than usual.

"Y-yes, Sir, your g-good girl," you answer, your hips rolling a bit as you get used to his size, a moan slipping from your lips as you do. Robert pulls you against his chest, his lips finding yours effortlessly, and your hands move into his locks, pulling gently as you get lost in his taste.

His tongue slips past your lips while his hands keep working your hips down onto him, and he happily swallows your moan when you're sitting down fully, taking him from his leaking tip to the hairy base, your arousal leaking down his balls and onto the mattress.

"There you go, Sweetheart. Good fucking girl," he purrs in your ear, his hands squeezing gently as he nibbles on your earlobe - one of his favorite places to tease you with, knowing how sensitive you are there.

Pleasure courses through your veins as you lean back and cup your boyfriend's cheeks, his gaze soft as he drinks in the way your features light up as you're seated on his lap, cock nestled deep inside your clenching walls.

Without thinking, you lean forward to place a small kiss on his perfect nose, immediately followed by a giggle that warms Robert's heart as soon as the angelic sound reaches his ears.

"I love you, Sweetheart. I love your laugh and how your eyes light up when I praise you, but most of all, I love you. You've made my life a whole lot better since I met you, and I cannot thank you enough for that, Sweet Girl. You have made me love life again, and for that, I will spend eternity thanking you in every way I can think of," he says, his voice soft as your hands are splayed over his hairy chest.

"Y-you... love me?" you ask, uncertainty laced in your voice. While you have known for a while you love Robert, you have always been scared to tell him, afraid of pushing him away.

"I do, Sweetheart. And I don't expect you to say it back; I know it's still early in our relationship, but-"

"I love you too, Robert. I have known for months but never dared to say anything until now," you confess, heat creeping on your cheeks at your confession. He seals the confession with a soft, loving kiss before gently guiding you onto your back, his cock still nestled deep inside you as he does.

"Let's make love tonight, Sweetheart. Let's make love until the sun comes up, and we're so intertwined we're not sure where one person begins and the other ends. Let's make love until we can't say anything other than 'I love you,' and there's nothing else on our minds but each other."

Robert keeps true to his promise as you two make love deep in the night, and you have both lost track of time from the number of orgasms you've shared. Now, he's just about to pull one more from your body, and while exhaustion is settling in, you also want to give him just that.

"One more, Sweet Girl, one more together," he coaxes you on, and you cry out in pleasure, your boyfriend's name tumbling from your lips in a strained voice, but it's all he needs to fall over the edge with you, a strong curse tumbling from his mouth.

"Jesus, fuck! Such a good girl, cumming for your Sir like that," he tells you, though overstimulation has started to set in, and tears are now streaming down your cheeks. The pleasure and love are all becoming too much, resulting in a rush of emotions.

"Breathe for me, Sweetheart. I'm here with you; you're okay. Take a few deep breaths for me," he says as he pulls you into his lap after pulling out. You try your hardest to do just that, but it's still difficult.

"Breathe with me, okay? Deep breath in aaaaand out," Robert says, gently guiding you through the rush of emotions. Once you're calming down, he grabs your hand and places it onto his heart to ground you, and it works.

"Let's take a relaxing bath together before we get some sleep, okay? I'll stay with you the entire time; I'm not leaving your side for anything," he whispers, his lips placing soft kisses on your cheeks. You're fully calmed down only once you're in the tub with your boyfriend.

"Thank you for everything, Robert. I love you," you whisper. He smiles as you nuzzle your face into his neck, his hands gliding over your back. Right now, you don't have to sneak around or hide your love, and you're taking full advantage of your time with the man you love.

[oh-stars]

Eternity

Love is being willing to wait for them.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2085 words | CW: anxiety, sort of unrequited love | Rating: T

--

“Can we talk?” Eddie whispers, a hand on Steve’s elbow, “Just us?” 

Steve nods, a tight smile on his face that he hopes doesn’t come off as uncomfortable as it feels. “Later?” He motions to the bowl of popcorn he’s carrying. “I can come over after?”

“Later,” Eddie says, his eyes warm and bright as he gives the tiniest smile in return. He doesn’t seem to notice how tense Steve’s body is as he squeezes his arm and leaves him in the kitchen, slinking back into the Wheeler basement. 

It takes all of three seconds before Steve’s face is falling and his heart is threatening to explode. He knows what this is about. Knows that when he heads over to the Munson trailer, he’ll have to face the music. 

Over the past few months, Eddie Munson has filled a gaping hole in Steve’s chest – with his wicked sense of humor and strong convictions that flip the norm inside out. He’s given Steve something he’s been missing for so long, long before he and Tommy H stopped hanging out and the social pressure became too much: a friend. 

But he’s more than that, isn’t he? 

Steve takes a deep breath and shoves everything into a box deep in his mind, like he’s been doing since he saved Eddie back in March (since Dave Easom used him to train the new lifeguards, his bare chest rubbing against Steve’s back, strong arms holding him up as big hands held him tightly). He has to perform, has to be the guy everyone expects him to be, just a little while longer. 

Robin pats the seat beside her when he finds his way back to the basement. 

He hands her the bowl and drops down onto the creaky couch. “What’d I miss?” 

“Jeff came up with this plan for the guys to split up, but Nancy thinks splitting up is a bad idea and will lead to a trap. And since they know that one of the pathways is an illusion, she’s not sure it's worth the risk. They’ve been arguing in circles and I’m pretty sure their in-fighting was a part of Eddie’s plan all along,” she says in between bites of popcorn. “Honestly, they all need to listen to Erica and just trick the wizard into revealing the illusion so they eliminate one of their choices.” 

“So more of the same?” Steve asks. 

Robin hums. “Precisely.” 

Steve slouches and rests his head on her shoulder. She wiggles under him and the next thing he knows, he’s laying on top of her while her non-buttery hand runs through his hair and she shovels popcorn into her mouth with the other. 

The drill of the game and the soothing motions of Robin’s hand in his hair lull Steve into that space between consciousness and sleep he both loves and hates. His thoughts wander, circling Eddie like a flock of vultures ready to swoop in and rip the false sense of security Steve has. 

Because he knows Eddie wants to talk about them. And Steve wants there to be a Them, but… 

How can he give himself over to another person when time after time everyone has proven he’s unable to provide in a relationship? When he doesn’t know how to open himself up and be vulnerable with the person who is meant to know everything? He’s just a bullshit version of who he thinks he’s supposed to be – he doesn’t know how to be a real person. 

And Eddie deserves that! He deserves to have someone who can be there for him wholly and with enthusiasm. 

Steve’s just not sure he can do that. Not when he’s barely acknowledging the flutter in his stomach when Eddie says his name or looks his way. Not when he genuinely feels like he could be sick when he thinks of his father finding out. Not when all he wants to do is hold Eddie’s hand while they walk down on Main Street, but they can’t without risking their goddamn lives. 

Eddie can barely exist on his own, was already the town pariah for his music and clothing choices, for the things he’s interested in that were completely harmless long before the murderer propaganda started. Being in a public relationship with a man is not going to do him any favors. 

And Steve’s not sure he can sneak around. That’s just… He doesn’t know how to contain himself in small increments; he’s either all in or burying it all deep for no one to find. 

He buries his head into Robin’s shoulder. She has an idea about his feelings and the labels he refuses to give himself. She knows how flustered Eddie makes him, is ready to tease him for falling for the man whenever Steve is, but until then, she’s a rock. Solid and steady, offering support when needed, but letting Steve process it at his own speed. 

“I need to come over tonight,” he whispers to Robin. “Eddie wants to talk.” 

“Oh,” Robin says, cupping the back of Steve’s head briefly. “I’ll have all your favorites ready for you when you get to my house.” 

Steve doesn’t have to say anything or force a smile. She gets it. 

The game ends too quickly and the kids are dropped off to their respective destinations even quicker, so Steve makes his way over to Forest Hills and tries to capture whatever confidence has escaped him over the last few weeks. Wayne’s truck is gone when he pulls up, but the lights on the van are still on, Eddie must have just gotten home. 

He can do this. 

Steve climbs out of the Beemer and pockets his keys. He makes it up two steps before Eddie’s opening the door for him, grinning way too big for the heartbreak Steve’s about to give him. 

Because that’s what this is: Steve’s about to break Eddie’s heart. 

He wants to be able to be with Eddie fully, but he knows that’s not fair. Not when someone else could give him more before Steve’s able to. 

“You got here quick,” Eddie says as they settle on the couch. He’s so open with his body language: back against the corner of the couch, one leg crossed over the other so his ankle dangles off his knee, arm along the back of the couch, elbow propping his head up on the arm of the chair. There’s this easy going smile on his face too, like he’s luxuriating in whatever he’s experiencing. 

“Yeah,” he says. Steve doesn’t feel too bad about still wearing his shoes, needing them for a quick escape, when Eddie’s boots are still on his feet, laces undone. He doesn’t let himself lean back into the couch, no matter how much it wants to suck him in. 

Eddie waits a full beat before he jumps up, shifting so his body faces Steve and his hands are in his lap, fingers worrying around one another. “So,” he draws out, “I have something I need to tell you.” 

Part of Steve feels like he should stop Eddie, to cushion some of the blow before Eddie puts his heart on the line, but he can’t. He’s frozen in place and foolishly thinking there’s still time for Eddie to say something else. For all he knows, Eddie’s about to invite him to play Dungeons & Dragons or something! 

Who is he kidding? 

“Okay,” Steve says, feeling like he’s outside of himself. 

Eddie clears his throat and pushes his shoulders back as he reaches for Steve’s hand. “You have been a really great friend, probably the best I’ve had who knows my secret. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I… I can’t imagine my life without you, man.” 

“Eddie,” Steve whispers. 

“No, no, just hear me out,” Eddie says, scooting closer. “I’m alive because of you. And I was able to recover and stay alive because of you. I… Dude, I’ve shared more with you than I’ve ever been comfortable sharing with anyone.” His voice drops down to a whisper as it trembles a little. Eddie blinks harshly and looks up to the popcorn ceiling. “I’m tired of running, Steve, so I’m just going to say it. There’s… something here, Stevie. I can feel it. And maybe it’s one-sided and I’m projecting how I feel onto you, but I don’t think so. I think you can feel it, too.” 

Steve feels himself shifting back, his leg bouncing with the need to go. 

Eddie takes another deep breath and moves so they’re eyes are locked. “I love you, Steve Harrington.” 

His eyes are watering. How long has he waited for someone to say those words first? And now he can’t even accept them. 

“Eddie, I…” 

Eddie’s smile dims as his eyes grow softer. “I know,” he says softly. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It is,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hands. He’s so close their knees knock against one another. Steve feels like his body is about to split down the middle, one half needing to be closer to him and the other wanting to get as far away as possible. “Because we’re going to be okay.”

Steve cocks his head to the side. “What?” 

Eddie just nods like it’s the most obvious statement possible. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Steve and Eddie will be okay. “Do you trust me?” Eddie asks, his voice a little stronger. 

“Of course,” Steve says quickly. 

That gets the bright smile back on Eddie’s face. “I didn’t tell you how I feel for you to act on it,” he admits. “I needed to tell you so you knew, in case you were scared to say it first, but I don’t expect you to get down on one knee and profess your undying love to me. But our friendship is special and strong enough that I think I can tell you about my feelings and it won’t change things too much. I know you won’t hate me for it and maybe you’ll reciprocate one day, maybe you won’t,” Eddie shrugs, “but at least I’m being honest with you.” 

Steve has to look away. “And if I can’t?” 

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” 

“Be honest with you?” Steve says through the lump in his throat. 

There’s a big, heavy pause as Eddie pulls away from him slightly. Not enough to leave the bubble they’ve created, but Steve feels his absence anyway. “Are you… are you keeping the truth from me to hurt me?” 

“No,” Steve says, looking back to see a very pensive Eddie. 

“Are you doing it to deceive someone or something?”

“I’m not like that,” Steve says. 

Eddie nods. “I know, I know. But if those things are true, and you’re keeping the truth because you need to for yourself, then we’re okay. I’ll always be here; so whenever you’re ready to tell me whatever it is, I’ll be here to listen.” 

“Even if it takes forever?” Steve whispers. 

“Baby, I’d wait an eternity to hear what you have to say.” 

Steve turns his body fully to Eddie and fills his chest with the same air Eddie’s breathing, the air that's fueling him to push through the nerves and put himself out there. “I’m working through things. You said you’ve, um, known you liked boys since you were a kid?” 

Eddie nods, takes Steve’s hand in his again. 

“And you’ve never done the relationship thing, have you?” 

“Not exactly a large dating pool for kids like me,” Eddie says with a hollow laugh. 

Steve nods, biting at his lip. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “I need time to, like, figure my shit out. Because you’re not… wrong. It’s not one-sided,” he admits, glancing up to see the surprise and hope fill Eddie’s eyes. “But I’m not… I need time.” 

“So take it,” Eddie says. “However long you need.” 

“I can’t ask you to wait for me–” 

“You’re not,” Eddie says as he takes Steve’s face in his. He runs his thumb along Steve’s cheek. “I’m offering it. I’ll wait as long as you need.” 

Steve just nods, leaning into Eddie’s touch. He’s going to have a lot to talk with Robin about tonight. Eddie may be willing to wait until the end of time for him, but Steve wants to feel this – the hope, the energy shared between them, the love that lies in the undercurrent of every word, action, and breath – as soon as possible. 

“Thank you,” he whispers as he kisses the palm of Eddie’s hand. 

--

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[redheadspark]

Hawuu can I request 12. keeping promises with Druig from your August prompt list.

A/N - HAWUU! I love this! Thanks for dong this, dear friend!

Promise

Summary - It was a pact you two made that blossomed into something more.

Warnings - Just fluff with a hint of angst

Druig never broke a promise.  Not once.

Sure he was all talk some of the time, mostly filled with hot air when it came to pissing off the right people or making others squirm.  But then again, he was never cruel nor did he have a negative bone in his body.  He never had the heart to be cruel to anyone around him, not even Ikaris whom he would rather chew off his fingers instead of being friends with him.  Still, Druig loved the relationships he had with the others on The Domo and he nurtured them over time.

You were one of the very rare few that Druig would bend over backwards for, and he had no idea why at first.  You were kind to him, got most of his jokes and called him out when he went too far, patient with Druig when he tried to explain what was on his mind, and non judgmental to him when he felt alone.  Your relationship with Druig was always strong ever growing, from the moment you two shook hands for the first time.  He was drawn to your joy, your unique sense of humor and outlook on life, and mostly importantly, your love for others.

But with that, you were emotionally drained from time to time.  Pouring your energy into people and into the humans was second nature to you, but it would come at a price.  Not that you would complain about it, in fact, you kept your low energy and momentum to yourself.  Thinking that it would be weak to tell anyone else, which was rather silly and foolish.  

Leave it to Druig to find you on the brink of exhaustion against your bed where you collapsed, to which he rushed to get you water and fruit to eat as he sat next to you to monitor you while you recovered.  HIs blue eyes were filled to the brim with concern and worry as he fed you orange slices, then giving you an intense stare almost like a parent about to scold a child.

“I won’t let you do this to yourself again,” He vowed, you looking over at him with fatigue still on your face while your heart was beating out of your chest from hearing Druig say that statement.  You knew he cared about you as a friend, he cared about everyone else on The Domo as a friend.  He did have love in his heart for you all and the humans combined, but this time ti felt like he was giving you a bit more of his heart.  Something that seemed different from others.  

“You promise?” You asked, not realizing what you asked and how silly it may seem.  But maybe deep down you were going for someone else to look out for you, instead of you looking out for yourself.  Druig kept his gaze at you, not wavering or flickering away for a singular second as he replied with two words:

“I promise,”

It’s been a spoke rule between the two of you since that night, something you never forgot for the rest fo your Eternal life.  You both leaned on each other for more things that were unspoken or unseen by the rest of the Eternal family, but perhaps Ajak saw it once or twice.  Neither of you cared, you both became each other’s pillars and support system.  You saw it when he was stressed out or angry when he couldn’t help the humans or pushed to the side by Ikaris.

“I think you’re doing an amazing job with the humans, and I’m not the only one who sees it, Druig,”

“You promise?”

“I promise,”

He still made sure you were “fill” yourself back up again when you were exhausted or running on empty.   Thanks for Druig, you were better at taking care of yourself and making sure that you would not resort to drastic measures.  The bond you two had was beyond strong, the friendship starting to teeter into romantic feelings before you realized it.  Having someone in your corner, someone who knew you more than you knew yourself, who admired all you have done and wished to do.  It was all Druig, you taking on his good and bad, joy and anger, highs and lows.

You never knew that he was doing the same as well.

One of the last times you ever saw Druig was the night he left you all in South America, not longe being bale to stomach that sight of genocide taking place in front of him.  The ager he had, the unfiltered angered that seemed to pour out of him so fast it was like a dam breaking open and freeing all of the pressure that was inside of him.  All you could do was watch, hearing his pain so many times and trying to help him and bring him peace.  That night, you knew it was too far gone and you couldn’t help him.  

Watching him leave the family, turning his back on the sonly family he knew for centuries, it killed you and made you request one more promise from him.  So before he could take the steps down and leave you behind and as a memory to him, to abruptly reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing him turn around and see the look of pain and desperation on your face as you clutched his hand in yours.

“Promise me we’ll find each other again, Druig.  Please!”

He heard the pain in your voice, he saw it etched on your face and even felt it in your fingers intertwined with his.  Yet you both held something deep down from one another, one major secret that neither one knew about the other.  The mutual love you had for one another that seemed so strong and unwavering, that felt so pure and unblemished.  You wanted, craved, sharing your love for Druig with him, but now it felt too late and out of arm’s reach.

Druig’s fingers around your stayed strong, his eyes still glassy from his tears never leaving yours as he spoke the two words that cemented into your mind for the next centuries:

“I promise,”

500 years without Druig, without your best friend and the one being you took your breath away, it was heart breaking and agony at times. You replayed that night over and over in your mind, thinking of what you would have said or done to let him know how to felt.  Would it have changed anything?  Would he have stayed for you?  Did he even feel that same way about you as you did for him?

So many unanswered questions harbored in your brain as you went on with your life, leaving to be on your own some time later in hopes of finding yourself again.  Traveling around the world, exploring all the places that you’ve seen to begin with, it fulfilled you to a point.  But there was still a lingering thought of Druig, his whereabouts, and if he was well.  Plenty of nights were restless with his face in your mind.  

You missed your best friend, and the long lost love you wished you had.

500 years later, in your little cabin that was tucked in the Canadian Rockies, The Domo landed on top of your small patch of land that was next to the lake.  You never thought you would see The Demo anytime soon since the last time you were on the ship basin the 1700’s back in Spain.  Yet there it was, amongst the nature that was your home as the ramp lowered to the ground. 

All of them, minus Ajak and Gilgamesh, were present and standing in front of your old ship as you walked out of the cabin to see all of their faces.  A sense of familiarity and love was present in seeing them again, yet your eyes were locked in one the person that was next to Makkari.  Sporting a black leather jacket and aviators on his face, black boos sinking into the mud below him, and a look of shock on his face.

Your heart was hammering in your chest.  Druig.

You both were running to each other without realizing it, either of you not noticing the others who were watching in amazement and confusion as you met in the middle.  He engulfed you in his arms, lifting you up and keep you close in his arms as you breathed him in and almost cried in relief.  Breathed in the unwieldy scent that he would only have, mixed with the leather jacket he wore and the smaller hint of cologne.  But being able to have him there, in your arms, made you cry in both relief and in happiness as he pulled away.

Before you would utter a word, he kissed you.

Taking your breath away at the shock of the others who saw him kiss you with no shame on his end.  But you melted, framing his face in your hands as your tears were touching his cheeks while you kissed him back in return.  It was as if you two were the only beings on the planet, nothing else mattered. 

You thought back to all the times you promised to help other, to pull each other up from the ground and never let the other drown, to simply call the other friend.  It all came flashing back to you and was now amplified from this new wave of love you two were pouring into one another.

He pulled away, gulping with plump lips as he spoke in a breathy tone, “I recall promisin’ ya that we'd find each other again,”

You laughed, full on laughed as he framed your face in his hand and kissed you again, letting the rest of the world melt away.

The End

August Prompt Session

[monzamash]

❝ what am i to you truly ? a puppet to be used to get what you want? ❞ + daniel 🥺😩

on our side daniel ricciardo x you | 1.1k — i combined this prompt and “did you just seriously insinuate i would do something like that to you?” because we love the drama, don't we folks? x

“You good?”

Daniel’s raspy voice stirred you awake, the exhaustion of too many night shifts strung together and the red wine he’d graciously provided for dinner had caused your weary eyes to close just for one peaceful, silent moment.

“Yeah, just needed a minute... it's so rowdy out there.”

The dip in the bed had your head tilting to the side, eying Daniel as he slumped down beside you, laying back on a bed that didn’t belong to either of you. In reality you didn’t know whose bed it was; maybe Scotty’s, maybe Sean’s – neither of you cared now that the dinner party had entered the wee hours of the morning.

“It’s been the longest day in history, I reckon. Trust those two to have the most extravagant wedding rehearsal dinner known to man…” Daniel sighed, hands linked behind his head; distressed curls falling every which way.

“Well, we are talking about a Stroll funded wedding event so not surprised that they’ve gone all out… Thought maybe there would be a flurry of doves as we walked in, it was that beautiful.”

Daniel chuckled at your joke and glanced your way, eternally in awe of how effortlessly funny you were. Quick witted and sharper than a tack like you’d always been; since the day he met you all those years ago.

“Should suggest that to Scotty for the big day – he’s all about the theatrics and hoopla… Christ, he might actually do it,” Daniel scoffed, making you chuckle and catch his eyes – gleaming and bloodshot from jet-lag.

There was a beat before his question; a question that you didn’t expect to get and certainly one you didn't want to receive.

“You ever think about getting married?”

The scoff that bubbled in your throat surfaced, eyes now widened at the man looking back at you with intrigue. Was he seriously asking you that? You? The girl who couldn't hold down a relationship because she's hung up on a man she can't have? Him.

“To who?” You asked, voice higher in pitch than you would’ve liked.

“I don’t exactly have a line of men queuing up around the corner…”

You cringed at the self-deprecation, wishing you’d gone with something less sad but the words spilled before you could catch them, painfully honest.

And Daniel’s quirked brow didn’t help you feel less desperate, “Oh, you know I’m camping out to be at the front of that queue.”

His tone was light-hearted but you knew that he wasn’t joking around. You’d found yourself here too many times, on too many late nights – fantasying about what could’ve been, maybe what should’ve been with the two of you. The almost’s, the close calls, the declarations of love when it wasn’t “the right time” and the apologies the next day when you wake up filled with regret, wanting nothing more than to pretend it didn’t happen because “your friendship means more to me than anything.”

It was cyclical.

“You promised we wouldn’t say things like that anymore, Dan.”

It was his chuckle that set you off, ringing in your ears like a taunt. It was as if the pain you felt every time he dangled himself in front of you, forbidden fruit, meant nothing to him. Like it didn’t rip his heart out of his chest, when it did. Having you as a friend killed him, every time he heard your voice on the phone, every time he made you laugh. Deflecting was his defence mechanism because admitting how he truly felt would hurt more than just you and him now. 

“I’m deadly serious…” You reiterated, staring into the windows of his soul, or so it felt for him as he watched your pupils widen.

“I know.”

And Daniel did know. He knew all too well the feeling of watching you happily in love – even if it was fleeting. But now it was his turn. The action of finding someone new was never intended to be vengeful or mean-spirited; it was just the way it was. Timing never on your side.

“But sometimes I think about getting married and when I do, I know you’re the only person on earth that understands how I feel… what that could look like and that might not be fair but it’s the truth.”

Daniel looked back up at the crown molding ceiling, hands clasped over his stomach, rising and falling with deep breaths. His heart was pounding, confessing his feelings was never easy when it came to you – and that was part of the reason you were laying side by side as friends, nothing more.

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” You stated, still staring at his sharpened jawline, tensing at your words, “I feel like… I feel like I’m just a puppet to you – a puppet to be used to get what you want whenever it doesn’t work out with your flavour of the month and… and…”

Daniel shot up, elbow buried into the mattress as he propped himself up beside you. As soon as you looked into those dark brown eyes, your heart shattered into a million pieces – the look of complete horror staring back at you as you stuttered through the sentence you wished you never even started. Regret getting the better of you.

“Did you just seriously insinuate i would treat you that way? After everything we’ve been through?” Daniel was stunned, gobsmacked by how differently you had perceived your relationship. Disposable.

He never wanted to make you feel that way, not ever.

“I fucking love you. I’m in love with you. And you know that. I know you do and I know you feel the same, which is why I sometimes keep my distance, especially when you’re with someone because I know what we have isn’t normal. I know it isn’t a normal friendship 'cause the reason all of my 'flavours of the month' leave is because of you.”

“Because they see the way I look at you and apparently it’s the same way you look at me so I dunno what to tell ya? You’re not a puppet and you never have been, it’s just… when we do get the chance to be together… in that way, I can’t say no to you… You’re you.”

Daniel reached down and softly brushed the pad of his thumb across your reddened cheek, a single tear rolling down the flushed skin as you let his words wash over you. He was right about all of it; he always was. He was the rational one, levelheaded and steadfast. But his words could only ease the pain so much.

The room was quiet, erratic breaths were the only sound being caught in the thickened air. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs, confessions somehow confusing the situation even more. Closure now being the only remedy for the heartache.

“If all that's true then, what do we do?”

Your voice was meek, barely a whisper as Daniel fell back onto the white linen duvet, hand searching for yours. You did what you always do and laced your fingers together; a comforting gesture to ease the sadness and gentle squeeze for good measure.

“I don’t know.”

Daniel genuinely didn’t know what to do and you could tell by the way his eyes darkened and the smile lines that were almost always visible were gone that he was as clueless as you. Stuck.

Because timing was never on your side.

a//n — don't know how many angsty drabbles i can write to be completely honest 'cause this hurt 😂 but hope you liked it x masterlist | askbox

[deathbxnny]

Friendo! Hello! How have you been? I come to place another request that's basically just the same HoHE!Elysia!Reader prompt from last time that was with Jing Yuan+Blade (because I still am a sucker for that idea and it's been in my head rent free).

May I request the characters this time be Welt Yang, Dan Heng and Kafka?

-----♡

A/N: Hey there! I absolutely loved this request, so I hope you'll like this one too! Also forgive me for taking so long... work sucks haha... (Og post here.)

Content: Fluff, established relationships, mentions of battle, something cute and wholesome for once, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Dan Heng

Dan Heng was always so quiet and reserved with his love for your Herrscher form. He'd stand there in silence, as he took in everything about you, watching you deal with enemies so gratefully it made his heart ache with love. And it didn't help, that he could get lost in the starry domain you created for centuries, if you let him. He was in love with you in every way and found you to be perfect, even if he never voiced it.

So he showed his fascination with you, by agreeing to a duel. He trusted you, just as much as you trusted him. He'd never hurt you, even if you asked him to give it his all. He just wanted to see your divine form again as you fought him, the endless starry skies stretching out above you as you fought.

Eventually, you ended up in his warm embrace, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed as he softly panted. The silence was filled by a melody created by your hearts and souls becoming one, as you absently swayed under the stars together for what seemed to be eternity to him.

-----♡

》Welt Yang

Welt knew all about your Herrscher form and yet still found himself watching you in silent awe. How could he not, when you were so divine? He could watch you endlessly and still not have enough of the sight of you. It often left you bashful, especially when you noticed the spark in his eye after a battle. He'd apologise for his stares with a smile, not meaning a word of it.

He was therefore hesitant to agreeing to a duel. It wasn't that he was afraid of hurting you, he would never. No, he just wanted you to rest in his arms and stare up at the stary skies of your domain forever. But alas, he is unable to deny you a thing and eventually agreed to a small fight. Even during it, you could feel his adoring gazes and lingering glances.

He spins you after an attack with ease, before pulling you into his arms with a chuckle. Seems like he has won, but that didn't matter to him, as he gently swayed with you through your domain, uncaring of the stars and galaxies that surrounded you. Why would he care anyways, when his whole world was in his arms?

-----♡

》Kafka

Kafka fell in love with you at first sight. How could she not, when you were so fascinating and divine to her? You were a light that shone in the darkness she considered her life. Without you, she'd be lost, something she often tells you in hushed whispers and teasing words. Anyone that dared disagree with how perfect you were, was shut down by her. No one would dare question you and your abilities she loved so much, with her around, that's for sure.

And since she can't deny you a single thing, she didn't think twice to agree to duel you. You had to however tell her to not hold back, as she can't get herself to be hard on you. The fight was elegant and graceful, the stars and galaxies reflecting in your eyes, when all you could see was eachother. Lingering touches, longing stares, dreamy exhales. It was all too much.

Eventually, she just pulled you into a waltz, humming a tune for you to dance to, as she rested her head on your shoulder with a satisfied smile. It was never a duel for her in the end, in fact, it was all just a performance. A performance that proved her love and devotion to you in ways only you could ever understand. And she'd be damned, if anyone dared take you away from her.

-----♡

A/N: Alright! I hope this was alright! I've been starting to slowly feel better and less tired lately, so I'm actually quite satisfied with my work now. I hope you liked it Anon and thank you for the request and your patience!<33

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Hey!! Thanks so much for writing my previous request! I'm so glad you liked it. I was quite nervous requesting it because I didn't know if you'd like the concept or if it would make sense or not but I'm really happy that you did. And I absolutely loved it!! Made me incredibly giddy to see that the prompt struck you! I'm wondering if you'd be open to me requesting another piece for Alfie using the general concept below? (Again, no pressure what so ever):

Alfie is a man that has had near death experiences several times throughout his life, but this time he thinks will be the last. That is until he feels himself being dragged across the cold cobblestone steps to the last place he'd ever think would be a safe haven for him.

Could this kind of be like where him and reader aren't exactly on amicable terms. It's a love/hate relationship (emphasis on the hate, lol). And when he asks why they saved him, they're just like: "didn't save you. Just prolonged your death. I told you before, no one has claim to kill you except for me."

Sorry if that didn't make too much sense. Basically a GN!Reader X Alfie Solomons enemies to (kinda) lovers but you sure as shit can't mess with the other, because that right is only reserved for them. "No one can kill you but me" are the vibes of their relationship.

(And if you don't mind, I'll use this as my identifier: 🥀.) Thanks again and I love, love, love your work ♥️!

- 🥀

Mine to Kill - Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader ONESHOT

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3120

Warnings: blood, stitching someone up

Summary: (The request)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm so happy you liked the last story. This was such a cute request, I love me some good ol' playful enemies to lovers. I'm so happy I'm able to identify you now! I look forward to more requests from you and everyone else. Hope you all enjoy 🥀💚

Alfie Solomons had waltzed with death on so many occasions that it felt as though he were an unwilling partner in a ceaseless, macabre dance. Every encounter with an enemy had etched its mark upon him, leaving deep scars not only on his body but on the recesses of his soul. The specter of death had become a relentless companion, its chilling fingers tracing the contours of his existence, staining it with a darkness that refused to fade. He had grown increasingly intimate with the concept of mortality, his dance with the reaper a relentless walts of agony and survival.

Yet, on this bitter, moonless night in Camden town,It was as if the universe itself had conspired to stage the conclusion of his life. The air was filled with an eerie stillness, the kind that precedes a storm. His blood flowed like a river unleashed from a dam, an unrelenting torrent from a vicious wound in his side. The bloodstains on the cobblestone steps formed a haunting picture, each drop a reminder of his unyielding struggle against a relentless destiny.

As he lay there, trapped in death's clutches, Alfie's reality shifted into a murky haze, where the lines between truth and illusion were as hazy as the fading memories of a man on the brink of the unknown. It was in this fragile moment, suspended between life and death, that his once-unshakable resolve, the very foundation upon which he had built his existence, flickered like a candle in the midst of a relentless storm.The boundary between his will to survive and the tempting embrace of surrender blurred, and doubt infiltrated his once unshakable self-assurance.

The looming darkness was unlike anything he'd ever known, its presence echoing with the ominous promise of an ending too final, too absolute to contemplate. Here, at this very moment, there was no escaping the inevitable, and Alfie could feel the cold breath of death, its embrace closing in, a meeting he could no longer avoid. It was the eternal silence that called to him, an abyss that left no room for defiance.

Struggling for each labored breath, Alfie's thoughts raced through the haze of pain, a singular name repeating in his mind like a mantra. Y/n. Their connection was a puzzle, a relentless source of frustration that had left them perpetually at odds. But amidst the chaos of the moment, as life teetered on the precipice, he couldn't deny the conviction that she would be the one to aid him, as contradictory as their relationship had always been.

Alfie was aware of the aggressive dynamic that had plagued their relationship for years. Their history was marked not by tender moments, but by the bitter taste of blood and the sting of betrayal. They were no strangers to confrontation; it seemed like every encounter ended with the exchange of harsh words or even harsher blows. Yet, beneath the layers of animosity and hostility, there was an inexplicable connection that both frustrated and mystified him. It was a connection he couldn't quite put into words, a magnetic pull that drew them together in their most volatile moments.

As he lay there, fading in and out of consciousness, Alfie found himself yearning to see the reader one last time. It was an inexplicable desire, considering the countless times they had been at each other's throats, and the disdain that had characterized their interactions. But in this desperate moment, he couldn't help but wish for a final encounter, a chance to unravel the enigma that was their relationship. Perhaps in that ultimate confrontation, he would finally understand the complex web of emotions that had kept them bound together, a love-hate bond that transcended reason and defied explanation.

The cobblestone under him seemed to vibrate with the approaching footsteps, but Alfie couldn't be sure if it was the real world or a fevered dream playing tricks on his battered senses. Everything appeared in blurred fragments, a distorted reality that left him questioning the very existence of the shadowed figure that loomed over him.

His groggy consciousness barely registered the arrival, and a voice, cool and unfeeling, echoed above him. It conveyed disappointment, a palpable sense of something having gone awry, but there was no hint of surprise. The voice seemed to hang in the air, an ominous punctuation to his dire situation. 

"Uh, shit..." The voice spoke.

Alfie could barely hear them, the words slurred and fragmented. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, and he had been thrust into a surreal nightmare where nothing was certain, not even the identity of the enigmatic presence that had dragged him from the brink of oblivion.

Alfie's senses were jolted as he felt his body being lifted off the unforgiving floor. It was a moment of profound disorientation, where the boundary between life and death blurred into obscurity. He couldn't discern whether it was the cold grip of death or the desperate strength of another person that held him aloft.

As he dangled in the hazy threshold of consciousness, Alfie's ears caught the sound of a struggle, the grunts and shuffles of someone grappling with the weight of his imposing frame. The voice that accompanied the struggle, tinged with irritation and a touch of begrudging admiration, cut through the disorienting fog that enveloped him.

"You big bastard," the words were growled out, spoken by someone who seemed simultaneously exasperated by the burden they were shouldering and oddly proud of their own audacity. It was a phrase that seemed to encapsulate the entirety of their complex relationship, where contempt and grudging respect danced on the knife's edge, much like the precarious balance between life and death that Alfie now found himself in.

Agony pulsed through every fiber of Alfie's being as his body protested the movement, and his head throbbed mercilessly as he was gingerly lifted from the harsh floor and placed onto a plush couch. The world around him remained a blur, but gradually, the mist lifted, revealing his surroundings. It was unmistakably Y/n's workshop, a place of mystery and ingenuity, and an unexpected haven for someone like him.

As his vision cleared, a spark of comfort surged through his heart. He could see the enigmatic figure approaching once more, their presence a reassuring beacon in the midst of his disorienting ordeal.

"Well, hello, darling," Alfie's voice emerged as a slurred drawl, his signature cockiness managing to persist even in his vulnerable state.

His gaze fixed upon them, a mixture of appreciation and something deeper, an emotion he couldn't quite put into words. The connection between them, the push and pull of their tumultuous history, was something that defied logic, but in that moment, it was a lifeline he clung to with a strange sense of gratitude.

Even in the haze that clouded his vision, Alfie could discern the unmistakable signs of irritation etched across Y/n's face. The furrowed brow, the narrowing of their eyes – it was a silent but vivid testament to their exasperation.

"Who did you fucking piss off this time, Solomons?" they demanded, their voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and a hint of genuine concern. The history between them had been fraught with clashes, but there was an undeniable thread of connection that bound them together, and it was in moments like these that it became evident, lurking beneath the layers of frustration.

A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of Alfie's lips as he admitted, his words a mumbled confession, "Uh... who bloody knows, yeah." He genuinely couldn't recall the specifics of the latest debacle that had brought him to the brink of death. It was as if his life had been a never-ending cycle of chaos and conflict, a whirlwind that left him perpetually disoriented.

Y/n's frustration softened for a moment, replaced by a peculiar mixture of amusement and exasperation. It was a dance they had performed many times before, a tango of clashing personalities and insurmountable history. And yet, in that moment, there was an unspoken understanding that transcended words, a connection that defied the chaos that surrounded them.

Y/n's sigh was heavy with the weight of their shared history, an exasperated breath that spoke of the countless times they had found themselves in these predicaments. With a careful grace that contrasted sharply with the frustration they felt, they crouched down beside Alfie.

Alfie observed their every move, his vision clearing as they worked. In their capable hands, they held a pair of scissors, glinting menacingly in the dim light of the workshop. With deliberate precision, Y/n cut through the fabric of Alfie's shirt, baring his battered body to the cool air of the workshop. It was a vulnerable moment, one that was laden with an odd mix of intimacy and tension, as Y/n's actions conveyed a silent promise to save him once more from the brink of death.

"Fucking hell, Solomons, you're a proper mess," Y/n muttered, their tone a mixture of concern and exasperation as they assessed the extent of the massive wound on Alfie's side. It was a gruesome sight, and even they couldn't help but wince at the severity of it.

Alfie, never one to miss a beat, managed a raspy laugh despite the searing pain that coursed through his body. "No different from what you've done to me," he quipped, a crooked smile playing on his lips before it dissolved into a fit of coughing and wheezing, each painful breath serving as a testament to the brutal existence they shared.

Y/n carefully poured a bowl of water, their movements deliberate and steady. They selected a clean cloth and dipped it into the cool liquid before gingerly placing it against the wound. The cloth's touch brought a searing sensation, and Alfie clenched his teeth to stifle any signs of weakness. The area around the injury was inflamed, and each cleansing stroke sent an intense sting shooting through him.

Alfie's jaw tightened, his eyes squinting against the pain. He refused to show any sign of vulnerability. It was an unspoken rule between them - an understanding that they could hurt each other in countless ways, but showing weakness was not an option.

Y/n's unwavering focus was palpable in the air. With a calm and methodical demeanor, they retrieved a gleaming needle and carefully sterilized it by passing it through the flickering flame of a lit candle. The sharp, metallic needle glowed briefly before it was ready for use, a testament to their meticulous care.

Next, they selected a spool of sturdy thread, their nimble fingers expertly looping and securing the ends. With practiced precision, they began to stitch Alfie up. The needle pierced his skin with surprising ease, each stitch closing the gaping wound. It was a delicate dance between the needle and thread, an act of healing that defied the brutality of their history.

Alfie couldn't help but admire their skill, even as the pain pulsed through him. Their hands were steady, and their concentration unbroken, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the bond between them and the gentle cadence of the needle as it wove its way through his skin.

With a careful hand, Y/n applied a soothing ointment to the freshly stitched wound. The cool, medicinal balm brought a sense of relief, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Alfie's tense expression relaxed just slightly. It was a brief respite in the midst of their tumultuous existence.

As they leaned back and examined Alfie's form, it was impossible to deny the stark reality. He did look half-dead, his pallor ashen, and his features etched with exhaustion. The wounds on his body told the tales of countless battles, both won and lost. It was a poignant reminder of the price they paid for the life they led, where danger lurked around every corner, and survival was often a matter of sheer luck and resilience.

Alfie's gaze shifted toward Y/n, his one good eye studying them intently. Despite his battered state and limited vision, he found himself unable to look away, an unspoken admiration for them welling up within him.

In that moment, he saw them in a new light. Their determination, their skill, and their unwavering commitment to his survival were nothing short of extraordinary. Alfie was no stranger to the rough and unforgiving world they both navigated, and it was often a place where trust was scarce. Yet, here was Y/n, the one person who could claim the right to his life, saving him once more.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of respect, a sense of gratitude that transcended the complexities of their relationship. It was an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite their many battles, they shared a bond that defied the odds and kept them bound together.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Alfie managed to find his voice, his words punctuated by a mixture of agony and exasperation. "Why in God's name did you save me?" he demanded, his voice a barely audible whisper, but his frustration was palpable.

In the dimly lit workshop, their eyes met, an unspoken challenge passing between them. The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of their complicated history. It was a question that cut to the core of their relationship, a puzzle neither of them had ever quite managed to solve.

The reader's eyes, devoid of any warmth, locked onto his, their icy gaze holding him captive. Their voice, as cold as the steel of a blade, sliced through the tense silence. "I didn't save you," they declared, their words sharp and unforgiving, as they leaned in closer. "I simply postponed your inevitable death. I’ve told you countless times, Alfie," they continued with a cruel smile, "no one, absolutely no one, has the right to end your life except for me." 

The words hung in the air like an unbreakable decree, the chilling declaration of their twisted connection. It was a bond neither of them could fully comprehend, a love-hate relationship that defied all logic and left them entangled in a web of obsession and power.

Despite the bitterness that flavored their words, Alfie couldn't help but detect the undertones of twisted comfort and possessiveness woven into the tapestry of their relationship. With a cocky grin that seemed at odds with his battered state, he locked eyes with them.

"Jealous that someone else almost had the pleasure of taking me out?" he taunted, his words carrying a note of mischief amidst the pain. It was a twisted form of banter that they had perfected over the years, one that spoke to the strange bond between them. In that moment, as the workshop's shadows deepened around them, their connection was as undeniable as it was enigmatic.

Y/n shot back with a sardonic grin, their tone dripping with sarcasm as they began tidying up the makeshift operating area. "You bloody well know it," they retorted, their movements efficient and deft.

Alfie couldn't resist the opportunity for a playful jab. "Don't worry, love... I'm saving myself for you," he quipped, a devilish glint in his eye.

Their banter took an unexpected turn when Y/n, wearing an incredulous expression, couldn't resist poking at the newly stitched wound, causing Alfie to grimace in pain. "You are so bloody obsessed with me," they accused, a mixture of exasperation and amusement coloring their words.

Alfie met their accusation with a half-offended look. "And why the fuck would you think that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Y/n chuckled, their eyes locking onto his. "Come on, Solomons, you practically passed out on my doorstep. Your ass dragged yourself here," they pointed out with a shake of their head. "You're completely and utterly obsessed with me." It was a statement that held a strange kind of truth, one that neither of them could deny.

Amid the playful tension, Alfie's mind was flooded with flashback. The clashes, the power struggles, and those rare moments of begrudging understanding flickered like fragmented images in his mind. In those recollections, he couldn't help but acknowledge that, despite their vehement denials and ceaseless battles, they were undeniably linked by something enigmatic.

They were like two fierce elements in nature, forces of destruction and creation, forever locked in a volatile dance that defied easy categorization. Their connection was a riddle with no solution, a puzzle they could never fully solve, and yet it was the essence of what defined their relationship - a captivating enigma that kept them eternally entwined, two halves of the same turbulent whole.

A glimmer of levity broke through the intensity of their exchange. "You're mine, sunshine," Y/n quipped, their words laced with an odd affection.

Alfie's chuckle was a rare, genuine sound amidst the tension that usually enveloped them. "Fucking looks that way," he said with a half-smile, their shared history and complex connection making the playful banter all the more intriguing. The words, though lighthearted, held a deeper truth about the inexplicable bond that tied them together, a connection that refused to be severed.

An unspoken pact seemed to settle between them, a silent truce forged in the crucible of their shared experiences. Their eyes locked, each acknowledging the enigmatic connection that had both united and torn them apart over the years. It was as if their tumultuous past had culminated in this one moment, where they stood on the precipice of something undefined.

With a deliberate tenderness that was as rare as it was unpredictable, the reader's hand reached out, their fingers grazing Alfie's cheek. The touch was cool to the touch, as cold and unpredictable as the relationship they shared. It was a gesture that defied easy interpretation, a hint of a deeper connection that refused to be denied, no matter how much they clashed or how much they tried to push each other away.

"If I find you still here in the morning," Y/n warned, their fingers still caressing Alfie's cheek, "you're dead." The threat hung in the air, laden with both menace and a strange kind of intimacy. 

Alfie responded with a sly grin that was half defiant and half affectionate. "And I wouldn't have it any other way," he retorted, a declaration that underscored the complex nature of their relationship.

With a smile that held a hint of something deeper than just the banter they usually engaged in, Y/n turned and walked away, leaving Alfie on the couch. Their footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, a reminder that, despite the tumultuous dance they shared, there was a bond that neither of them could easily sever.

-

A/N: thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed, again, thank you for the request 🥀. I look forward to more :)

[vampirefest]

Dear companions in darkness, the wait is finally over! We'd like to thank everyone who participated in our little guessing game, we got a lot of interesting answers.

For the month of November, we bring you a fun low-pressure bingo inspired by Lestat, that you can fill up at your leisure throughout the month.

You can use the prompts on the bingo card to write fanfics, make fanart, amvs, edits or any other creative outlet to show your appreciation for our beloved Brat Prince.

You can find the rules and guidelines for the event here. The link to the collection can be found here.

Don't forget to tag with #vflestatbirthdaybingo and/or tag us at @vampirefest so that we can find your posts.

Here is the complete bingo card for our birthday boy!

You can find the full detailed prompts below the cut.

Happy Lestat Month!

1. "My lord, the Wolfkiller": The killing of the wolves, a moment that comes to define Lestat for all eternity. You can explore this fundamental event in Lestat's life, the way it altered the course of his life and his family dynamics, and the symbolism it came to represent in Lestat's later life.

2. First love I The witches' place: For Nickistat lovers out there, this is your time to shine! It's also a chance to explore another formative moment of Lestat's life—his experience at the witches' place—when Lestat came to the fundamental understanding that there is no meaning in the end - not to the cruelty, not to the laws of men - all that exists is the one life he's living and the aesthetic of it all.

3. The performer: Actor | Rockstar: Performing is Lestat's second nature, either to present an image of himself to others to earn their love, or to hide this true self. From the time he is a young man, Lestat is awed by actors and artists, they create worlds and life out of nothingness. Some of Lestat's best and happiest moments are on the stage, acting or singing for his adoring public.

4. Rue Royale era: For decades, 1132 Rue Royale was the home of our favourite little vampire family. A family that, according to Lestat, shouldn't have lasted as long as it did. Here you can explore the dynamics between the unholy family, between Lestat and Louis, and the highs and lows of this period in Lestat's life. As Lestat said, he has never been as happy as in that little house on Rue Royale.

5. Free Space: This is your chance to explore any themes or moments in our brat prince's life outside of the prompts proposed. Let your creativity run wild!

6. "I don't like myself, you know.! love myself, of course. I'm devoted to myself till my dying day. But I don't like myself.": Use this prompt to explore Lestat's insecurities and his complicated relationship with himself, from his abandonment issues to his reflections on his body, his monstrosity and so much more.

7. Lust for life: Here you can explore Lestat the dreamer, Lestat the hedonist, Lestat the embodiment of hunger. He has a lust for blood, love, adventure, for a better life filled with more excitement and lived to the fullest. Lestat takes what he wants and follows his every whim.

8. Resilience: Lestat is the metaphorical cockroach of the Vampire Chronicles universe. Whatever life throws at him, he rolls with the punches and finds a way to survive and make the best of every situation. He always finds a way to reinvent himself and to keep moving forward. With this prompt, you can explore Lestat's defiance in the face of obstacles and his resilience even under the worst circumstances.

9. The Brat Prince | Prince Lestat era: Set your creations in the Prince Lestat era or simply explore Lestat's bratty nature that earned him the moniker "The Brat Prince".

[cloudyyoimiya]

hi there, hope you’re doing well! i just read your scenario with yandere ranpo and a darling in danger and i am OBSESSED!! 💜 the dynamic is so freaking good, my favorite bit is when darling asks about the candy being drugged, i feel like it did so much to build up their past relationship and pique my interest. the way that ranpo’s darling was so resigned to their fate was heartbreaking but so well written, i love how much it implies about darling’s experience in captivity while also leaving so much up to the imagination. i have to say i was so thoroughly intrigued by the open ending! the idea that ranpo’s darling defeatedly agrees to go back to their prison, but also clearly still hates it and has simply lost all hope of ever escaping, and is now beginning to give in for the sake of making their miserable life easier..it has infected my brain man (/pos)!! so i saw that your requests were open in your bio and i was like i simply have to ask: would you be willing to write a continuation to that scenario that shows what it is like when ranpo brings his darling back to his home (prison)?

i’ve also written fanfic in the past, so i totally understand if it’s a situation where you had the inspo for the blurb but not really any ideas for past that! so, no pressure to write, but if you would possibly like a further prompt, the idea that i was picturing is a depressing fic where darling is giving in more and more to ranpo because they’re too tired of all of the punishments and they just want their life in captivity to be easier since they know they can’t ever escape him..but if you do decide to write, feel free to write whatever you feel like! Thank you, have a great night! 💜

AUGH thank you for your kind words, anon! they truly mean a lot! i showed this to my friend bc it made me so happy, i hope you don’t mind!! i was having a bad day when i first read your kind words so it cheered me up a lot LMDBF. anyways, here you go! i had fun writing and thinking about what would happen

Coming Back Home; Ranpo Edogawa

Format: Headcanons and scenario

Possible warnings: Yandere content, dark themes, discussion of kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of injuries

Disclaimer: This is a continuation of Ranpos part of this fic! I recommend you read it first!

When you were cleared to finally go home by Yosano, you felt as if you wanted to die. You’d be dragged back to your eternal prison by some man-child that claimed to love you like no other.

You knew what he was capable of, and he’d constantly remind you of it. He’d always tell you that he could frame you for the murder of people you hold dear. He’d make sure that you’d go to prison. The only way for him to prove your innocence and get you out of prison was to stay by his side. Though, all of this is a what if…

He’d make sure that you were his, even if it meant tampering with your criminal record.

Escaping while walking back was out of the question because of this.

When the both of you go returned ‘home’, you were more submissive than usual. You didn’t like it one bit, but it was your only choice at this point. You knew that he’d become more protective over this incident. He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again…

If you even tried to defy him then things would turn out for the worst.

It was terrible.

If you started to comply more, then maybe he wouldn’t keep you in that one single room anymore. Maybe he’d be slightly kinder…

Don’t get me wrong, he was really “nice” to you even before you got kidnapped by that gang. He made sure that all your needs were met, it’s just the mental blockage of him forcibly taking you from your home that stopped you from returning his “kindness.”

Scenario…

The walk “home” was filled with a deafening silence. You could barely think straight as you walked throughout Yokohama. Your mind kept scattering to when you were first kidnapped by that gang—how they beaten and bruised you. Your body still ached from the beatings despite Yosano using “Thou Shalt Not Die” on you. It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe. It was suffocating. You hated it.

Ranpo opened the front door to your shared “home” and motioned for you to enter. You reluctantly did so, not wanting to somehow manage to anger him by your hesitance.

You sat down on the nearest couch and stared at your lap. Your pants had several cuts in them, so it was clear that you would need new ones sooner or later. It was unfortunate because they were your favorite pair too! They provided you comfort when you so desperately needed it.

“Are you alright?” Ranpo asked as he sat next to you. “You seem sad.”

You bit your tongue, not wanting to say something that you would regret. “I’m fine, Ranpo.”

Ranpo took out a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it. He then plopped it in his mouth and hummed in approval. It was his favorite flavor.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said, the lollipop still in his mouth. “Talk to me.”

“Ranpo I told you I’m fine,” you said back.

You didn’t want him to see your weakness, but you already knew that he saw through you. He was the greatest detective out there, and that’s what scared you. He knew everything about you just by one glance. It made chills slowly creep up your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Someone is lying to me!~” He spoke rather childishly. “(Name), I told you how I feel about liars.”

You tensed up at his words. When he first took you in captive he told you that he’d punish you if you ever lied to him. At first you didn’t believe him at all, but you ended up finding out the hard way that he was indeed speaking the truth. You still remember the day where he refused to feed you because you lied about something that was happening at work. You felt nauseous from the lack of food in your stomach at the time

“Fine. I’m just shaken up is all, alright? Nothing bad.”

Ranpo squinted at you for one moment, trying to see if what you said was the truth. He then nodded to himself then went to hug you.

“Oh my (Name), you’re gonna be okay! Well, you’ll be okay as long as you love me! You do love me, right?”

“I do love you,” you said. You knew that you didn’t mean your words—you never have. You only said it to appease your captor.

Ranpo hugged you tighter. He knew that you didn’t mean your words one bit, but he still accepted them. He knew that one day you’d eventually come around to his affections. That day may not come any time soon, but he’s willing to wait. He’s willing to wait only for you.

You slowly hugged him back, not wanting him to give you any lip about not returning the sign of love. In a gross way it felt strangely comforting, but yet at the same time it felt suffocating. It almost made your skin crawl.

“That’s so good to hear!” He said happily. “Anyways, what do you want for dinner, hm? I’ll order something! You deserve to be pampered after almost dying!”

“Uhm… How about your favorite? I want you to be happy,” you lied through your teeth.

You had to be considerate of his feelings. Otherwise he’d punish you.

“That sounds good,” he hummed.

Ranpo pulled out his phone and he started to order the food. Eventually he looked up at you and gave you a lazy kind smile.

“Go change your clothes.”

You nodded as you stood up. You then went into your bedroom and picked out Ranpos’ favorite outfit of yours. You stripped down and put on the outfit, then walked back out of the room. The outfit wasn’t sexual at all, but it still made you feel uncomfortable.

You sat down next to him and he leaned his head on your shoulder. “The food should be here soon, darling.”

“Alright.”

He wrapped his arms around you delicately. You’ve been so good ever since you returned home with him, and he knew that you were sore, so he decided not to put more stress on your body.

“I love you so much. Promise not to leave me, alright?”

[hornyforherbert]

Hi 👋 So excited to have found a talented writer with requests open! Can we get prompt #2 with Justin Herbert? Thank you 😘

A Rainy Night (Justin Herbert) ✧

Prompt 2. “My mom asked about you again.”

CW: Angst

WC: 494

The rain poured down relentlessly, mirroring the melancholy that consumed her heart. Her relationship with Justin had hit a breaking point, and now they found themselves on a much needed break.

Every droplet that soaked the streets mirrored the tears that stained their face. It felt like the sky itself wept for their shattered love. She sat alone in her dimly lit apartment, drowning in a sea of emotions. Her mind was plagued with doubts, uncertainties, and the weight of their broken connection.

The silence was suffocating, filling the space between them as they navigated this new territory. A message notification broke the silence, sending her heart racing. It was Justin. "My mom asked about you again..." Those five words pierced through the darkness, stirring a mixture of pain and longing within her heart.

Justin's words offered a glimpse into a world where their love still lingered, even amidst the turmoil. she couldn't help but wonder what it meant. Did it indicate a possibility of redemption or was it simply a reminder of their shared history?

Images of Justin's mother, Holly flooded her mind. she recalled the countless times Holly had embraced her, showing genuine affection and support. It was during those moments that they felt a part of something bigger, belonging to a family that accepted and cherished them. As the storm outside raged on, her thoughts swirled with questions.

Did Holly miss her? Did she understand the complexities that had fractured their relationship? The emotions that consumed her seemed unbearable. They were torn between desperately wanting to reach out and fearing further heartbreak.

Time stood still as she gathered the courage to respond. The words formed hesitantly, each keystroke carrying the weight of their emotions.

"What did she say?"

The anticipation was oppressive, each second feeling like an eternity. stared at the screen, trembling, hoping for a response that would bring clarity and resolution. Their connection, once so strong, now hung in the balance, teetering between renewal and finality.

Minutes turned into hours, and still, no reply came. The uncertainty gnawed at her soul, leaving her vulnerable to their own thoughts. The rain outside continued its relentless downpour, echoing the turmoil that mirrored their heart. Finally, a message appeared, illuminating her phone and the darkness that consumed her cozy apartment.

"She said she misses you. That she hopes we find a way back to each other. Maybe we can talk soon?"

Relief washed over her, she now had a glimmer of hope. her heart swelled, realizing that amidst the pain and chaos, there was still a flicker of love left to salvage. The future was uncertain, but that connection with Holly stirred something deep within her, a reminder of the bond she once shared with Justin.

As the rain continued to pour outside, she clung to the possibility of reconnecting. In the depths of their anguished soul, they knew that despite the brokenness, love had a way of finding its way back home.

I hope you enjoyed reading, thank you to the anon who requested it! Have a great rest of your day :)

You do NOT have permission to repost (reblogs are fine) or copy my work.

A/N: I was a little nervous about posting this because i didn’t like it that much, but if you guys like it, that’s what matters. Also to the anon who requested this im sorry it took a week to get it out, hope everybody enjoyed it! (to the anon who requested this, thank you for the kind words in your ask!)

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi, I was wondering if you have recs where Paul ignores and freezes John? Thanks a lot!

Thank you for asking, and sorry for being so late with my reply. I hope this is still useful to you.

This is a fascinating request. It made me realize that most fics I know focus on John freezing out Paul (with or without pining)—the reasons for that would probably be worth a separate post. So: challenging ask, thank u very much.

I also kept coming back to the way you worded it—ignores and freezes. That's highly specific, if you think about it! It includes an edge of pain and cold anger, almost something unnatural: a decision to freeze, to numb, to refuse to see the other (Look At Me...).

It also feels final—or, at the very least, final-in-the-moment. How to separate this from fics in which they're broken up, not talking™, misunderstanding each other, are mad at each other (but only as a prelude to making up)...?

Does it also rule out fics in which they're not together, or fighting, or breaking-up-but-still-obsessed...never got together...?

As you can see, I might have been overthinking this, just a tad. :-) But here are some stories that, hopefully, fit your ask to varying degrees.

The wild and windy night (@zilabee) must have been one of the first J/P stories I read, and I guess I memory-wiped just how brutal (and damn good, because: true) it is. This is about mutual attempts at freezing and severing, and brace yourself: it's going to hurt. But it lands in a hopeful place. Cathartic. (Sorry, everyone, for never including it with any of my angst recs; I honestly must have decided to tuck this one away in a specially secured room reserved for the strongest stuff.)

How do you sleep (LouisWain1939) was the first fic I thought of reading your ask. If you want freezing cold, this is it. Prompt-fill for: Paul wanks to HDYS (optional: he phones John as he does it to make John listen). I love it.

you and i have memories (@midchelle). Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU. John is the first to opt for the removal of Paul memories, but Paul follows suit. Unfinished, but what a premise—and it's rendered so convincingly...! Treepanning+

open heart (@revollver): Vampire AU. Paul feels ashamed of how much he needs John, and refuses to open up to him. Hot and sensual and sad in exactly right proportions—with an unexpected dark and satisfying ending.

I'm gonna haunt you (sexysadie): 1968. An ice cold conversation between John and Paul in a pub.

Coast Starlight (bookofapril) The best canon divergence of all, in which Paul is happy with Robert Fraser (and, sometimes, Linda) in the 70's, and John is a slightly annoying shadow from the past. John is frozen out in absentia, in a wonderful Paul/Elton John conversation on Fire Island.

The Death of a bachelor (wavesof_joy): Modern AU. Paul gets married in Vegas...and it's too late to elope with John.

Here are two stories centered on the 1966-1967 "Paul refuses to trip with John" era — maybe a bit of a reach for the ask, but I'm thinking: John wants to get in, and Paul appears distant...baautiful, but not quite real...either way, these are both excellent, so enjoy: Sunday Driver (@boshemians; excellent Tara Browne cameo) and Chrysalis (cloudy_blue).

And finally, your ask made me think of two (three?) stories in which Paul freezes out John temporarily for trauma/pain/misunderstanding reasons: Brother Dearest (@javelinbk) and The Cast Iron Shore and its sequel, The Reeperbahn, by @m1ssunderstanding. In the first, John and Paul are stepbrothers as well as lovers. At first, they dislike each other, and later there is a heartbreaking break-up for your ignoring-each-other needs. The second is an AU in which Paul works as a 'rent boy' to support his abusive father, and starts a messy and intense relationship with John, leading them and their band from Liverpool to Hamburg. John and Paul love each other, but do they trust the other loves them back? No. Missunderstandings indeed—deeply painful in places—off the charts pining—and plenty of great Hamburg Beatles in action scenes...!

That's all I can think of for now—perhaps others can chime in with additional recs? (@whenyourbirdisbroken, @crumblingcookies? Tagging you because you have vast fic memories!)

I hope you will enjoy these, anon!

[chemicalalice]

Fic: It's Not My Love You'll Drown In - Kinktober Day 2

Title: It's Not My Love You'll Drown In Summary: You could only reject Kylo Ren so many times Pairing: Kylo Ren x female!Reader (more of an OC, but no details are really mentioned so it can be read as xReader) Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, swearing. Angst. Angst. More angst? Rough sex. Please be mindful of yourself and do not read if this content bothers you. 18+ only! Word count: 2910 AN: For the prompt ‘bath/shower’ for Kinktober 2023. No beta. I have a whole background novel written in my head for the mess that is Kylo Ren, Hux, and reader for this little 'verse. I am sure I will be writing more at some point. My Kinktoer this year is just chock-full of toxic relationships this year. Yay?

It was rare that your smile was actually genuine, and not just a front for some subtle manipulation. Now though, as you stepped into the bathing room, steam curling around you, your smile, and the sigh of pleasure that accompanied it, was real.

When it came to the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren may be Snoke's apprentice, and Hux the preferred commander, but you were Snoke's favorite subordinate; the one granted the most freedom and the most privilege. Though it came at a cost. Snoke didn't care for your intelligence or, even more importantly, your powerful connection to the force. No, you face and your body were the only things that were considered your useful assets; ones Snoke saw to exploit and trusted you to use to further his agenda. No matter what it cost you.

You had had dreams once, ideas of what you wished your future would hold. They were simple, girlish things: a large home on a green planet, a handsome husband, the laughter of children filling you ears and heart. Ren had ruined all that for you. All you had now was your much envied place in the First Order hierarchy that still had most people regarding you as little more than a cunning whore who only had the power she did because she had seduced two of the most powerful men in the galaxy.

Still, it wasn't without its benefits. It was ridiculous and a waste of resources, but when you demanded the construction of a bathing chamber with a palatial soaking pool filled with water drawn from a mountain spring on a distant moon, there wasn't really anyone who could say no to you.

And you didn't mind taking Hux to your bed; not really. You actually cared a great deal for the man, all things considered. It could have even been love, in a different life.

You dropped your towel to the floor as you descended the steps into the pool, sighing again in satisfaction as the warm water rose up around your body. You refused to think of your other lover. The one you continuously rejected until it reached a tipping point and you had no choice but to give in. This was your favorite escape. And you would not sully this rare opportunity when both men were off ship and you had no one to demand anything of you by thinking of that....hulking beast.

You felt your blood pressure start to rise at the mere thought of Ren and took a deep breath, forcing the anger away.

A star ship was never truly quiet, there was always the low hum of the air handlers and engines, but all that became white noise that could easily be ignored as it faded into the background. Here, in this room, was the only place on the ship that you could find silence. And now, you happily embraced it.

Your eyes slipped shut as you sank deeper into the water. A rare sense of calm rolled over you and weight seemed to lift. You let yourself float, aided only ever so slightly with the Force that eternally swirled about you. And as your body floated, your mind drifted away.

You weren't sure how long you had been floating when you felt it- a gentle tug, a hand reaching out through the Force for you, yanking you back from the peace you had been swathed in. What had started as mere brush across your consciousness soon became more more forceful. Searching. Grasping. Demanding.

Your stomach sank in dismay and let you your legs drop, planting your feet on the bottom of the pool to stand, to escape, but the doors of the chamber were already being forced open and a storm of black cloth and anger was pouring in, the doors sliding shut behind him, sealing you in with the only person in the galaxy you despised more than Snoke himself.

The anger was pouring off him in waves, emotions made physical due to your sensitivity to the Force, and to him; and you watched as he ripped off his helmet, sent it hurling into the wall to his left, cracking the delicate tile with it's impact. You scowled, furious at his childishness and his never ending destruction of everything around him.

You knew he could feel your distaste by the way his eyes snapped to focus on you. They were filled with fury, no doubt at what was most likely another failure in his hunt for Skywalker, but as you watched them you could see the way that something else crept in. A familiar hunger. You skin prickled at the way his eyes traced over you, down from your face to your exposed body. Watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

You dropped ungracefully back into the water, arms crossing over your chest, hiding what you could of your nakedness under the scant cover of the rippling water. It was petty and pointless. He knew your body inside and out, but you did it anyways. Any opportunity to deny him, deny the bond that held you two together for all eternity, was one that would would take. It was your own bit of childishness, you knew.

“Get out,” you hissed, even as you were moving away, pushing through the water until your back hit the far side of the pool.

“I need you.” His voice was low; urgent and forceful.

“No.”

“You cannot deny me this.”

“I can and I will. Go lick the wounds of your failure elsewhere!”

“Please!” It didn’t take much before his show of bravado fell away and the desperation appeared.

“No Ren! You are not welcome here!” Your voice was a snarl, you mind pushing back against the hands you could still feel reaching out through the Force for you.

You glared at him. Even now, after all the years together, Kylo was still just as unpredictable to you as he was to outsiders. You did not know if he would give in, accept your rejection and slink away with his tail tucked between his legs. But as you waited, you saw the anger return. Your stomach sank. There would be no denying him this time.

Ren started forward, eyes fixed on you. You blinked in surprise when he didn’t stop at the edge of the pool, but descended down the steps into the water with all his clothes still on. The fabric took on water quickly, and although you knew it would have added a significant weight, it didn’t slow Kylo’s steady progress toward you in the slightest.

When he reached you, strong arms wrapping around you and hauling you to press against his firm body, you didn’t resist. There was no point anymore. Not tonight.

When his mouth descended to your, stars exploded behind your eyelids as you lips finally touched. The kiss was desperate, as if you were water and he a man near death with thirst. You felt it too. You hated the bittersweet relief his touch always brought, as if a part of your very being had been absent without him. And it would always be this way. He was your soulmate, the one person in the entire Universe that the Force decided you would be tied to forever, and in denying him you only denied yourself as well. There was no escaping fate.

You moaned loudly as his lips traveled from your mouth to your neck and continued their path south. His name slipped from your lips in a desperate cry as his mouth found your breast, lips closing around one nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. You leaned back, burying you hands in the dark mess of his hair, drawing him closer, as your back arched, opening yourself up to as much of your body as he wanted.

His mouth returned to your briefly before he pulled away, staring down at you with pleading eyes and swollen lips. “I need you.” He repeated his words from earlier.

“Then have me,” came your breathless reply, and your hands fell to the sodden fabric that concealed him from you. You wanted to feel him, to feel his skin, every inch of it pressed to yours. But you knew that would not be happening now. He was too desperate, too frenzied, after such a long time of being denied.

You helped him tug the heavy cowl off his shoulders. It was normally heavy, a thick, densely woven fabric that he wore almost as a shield, but it felt like an impossible weight now, with all the water it had absorbed. When he was finally free of it, he didn't bother with the tunic underneath, just reached down and freed himself from his trousers and undergarments. He barely had himself exposed before he was reaching for you again.

Kylo had the capability of being a good, considerate lover; to be gentle and accommodating. Long ago, in a different life when he had a different name, that is how it had always been between you. But now, with the years of hurt and anger and resentment between you, with his contestant desperate longing that you continuously rebuffed, he was usually too worked up to be the lover he once was when you finally did submit to him. You knew the rush stemmed from his fear that at any second you would turn cold, turn him again from your heart and body and his chance at physical connection with you would slip through his fingers like smoke.

He forced himself roughly between your thighs, lining himself up and then pushing up inside of you, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust that had you stretching around his almost painfully. He moaned loudly, pressing his face into the junction of your neck.

As was expected, his pace was quick, and the frantic pumping of his hips churned the water around you even as the force of his thrusts had you falling back against the side of the pool.

You threw you arms around his neck for balance, and the rough fabric of his wet clothes chaffed at your bare skin, the friction against your nipples shooting sparks of pleasure directly to your cunt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tried to focus on the pleasure, on the feeling of his solid weight pressing down on you, on the fullness of him buried in your core.

His mouth was pressed to your throat, kissing, licking, biting at every inch of skin he could reach. And you could hear the words spilling from his lips. Mine. My queen. My empress. My goddess. My soul. A prayer only you would ever hear.

He reared back suddenly, ripping himself from your grasp, pulling out until only the tip of him remained in your body. His eyes were dark as he stared down at you, panting. “Tell me you are mine,” he demanded, one hand coming up to grope roughly at your breast, squeezing with a hand still gloved. You could feel him trembling, fighting to hold back from plunging back into you as he waited for your reply.

There was no point in denying it. Even if you lied, he would know. “I’m yours.” It was an answer, and promise, and a shackle, all wrapped in one weighty word.

You cried out, throwing your head back as he thrust back into you. Your fingers curled, nails digging into his shoulders at the fullness. He gasped your name in reply. And you could feel him, all of him; the push and pull of his cock as he rutted into your cunt; the desperate squeeze of his arms as he held you too him; and, through the bond, through the Force, his need for you, the pleasure he now took from your body and the love, the overwhelming desperate love that surged out towards you.

You were more at risk at drowning from that love than from the water that surrounded you.

It was too much. Too much and too long since you had allowed yourself to give in to the bond, give in to him; to let the connection you needed as much as you needed air to flourish.

You felt yourself spiraling quickly towards release, and then it was upon you, all your nerves lighting up with surges of color and pleasure as you clung to him, crying his name again and again as you came. In your pleasure, as he was connected to you with both body and soul, you lost yourself, not sure where you began and he ended. You could feel how your release, the how white hot clench of your cunt around him pulled from him his own orgasm. Felt the heat of his seed in your womb. Heard the long, low moan of your own name falling from his lips. Just as you were falling. Through space. Through time. Falling and falling, but safe in the knowledge he would catch you. That he would always catch you.

When the almost endless aftershocks of pleasure finally receded, and the haze cleared from your vision, you found yourself still cradled against him. He had one arm wrapped firmly around your middle, supporting you in the water where you had gone completely boneless. His other hand was cupping your face. He had removed his gloves, at some point, and now he was gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

His eyes were warm, none of the anger that he had brought with him remained. And a soft smile, small, but there, lifted one side of his mouth. The rare appreance of happiness made him look younger, like a single smile could strip back the hate and anger that had twisted his soul into something you could barely recognize.

“Kylo.” His name nothing more than a whisper between you had him sliding his hand from your cheek to curl in your hair, guiding you lips to his again.

The kiss was slow, almost delicate. A sudden relearning of a past long gone now that your walls had been breached. It could have even been considered romantic, if you didn’t feel twitch of his cock, now softened, against the smooth skin of your inner thigh.

Your own lips twitched up into a ghost of a smile as you separated and gazed up at him, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he was fully hard again. One round was never enough to sate his desire.

His own smile grew in response to yours, as if he knew what you were thinking. His arm squeezed possessively where it still wrapped around you. “Stay with me tonight. Let me take my time with you. Besides, I doubt Hux will desire you tonight after I already had my way with you.”

Even in the heat of the room, you felt cold, as if ice were cascading down your spine. His words were light and carefree, no doubt meant to be some sore of awkward teasing. But they shocked you back to reality, shattered the illusion that perhaps things were as they once had been; as if Ren forgot that he was the reason that Snoke commanded you to seduce the General in the first place.

Ren still smiled, even as he felt you tense in his arms, even as contentment gave way to confusion and then to panic. You were pulling away, drawing back into your shell of simmering resentment. You reached out to the Force, and pushed. It was unexpected, and Ren lost his footing, falling back into the water, head going under.

When he emerged, sputtering and shaking his head like some sort of oversized dog, you were already ascending the steps of the pool. You held out your hand, and the towel you had left on a stool near the pool leapt from its spot and flew into your hand. You wasted no time wrapping it around you, a physical barrier to accompany the emotional one you were hastily rebuilding.

“My love,” Ren’s words were a plea; for you to stay; for you to forgive him; for you to love him as you once had.

“General Hux is off ship at the moment, My Lord. Fortunately I shall not be entertaining either one of you tonight. Although, of the two of you, the General’s company is always the more enjoyable.” You words were quick and sharp, the killing blow to whatever bridge had begun to form over the rift between you.

You didn’t look back. Even now, you still could never bear to see the soul deep anguish that was only too plain to see on his face when you rejected him like this. When you rejected his love.

Love. His love had once been all you needed. His fall changed that. You were no Sith, but you could understand the anger that Snoke encouraged his apprentice to embrace, for the strength it provided. You embraced the anger now too. Love. You could not deny that you still loved Kylo Ren. But it was no longer the pure innocent love of your youth. This love, as destined as it was, as lasting as it would be, was no longer pure. Hate, anger, love; all bound up in a gordian knot of pain.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel his despair. And as he stood there, a dripping black shadow in the middle of the now still water, you knew he could feel yours.