#this poor man needs a raise (and probably some alcohol)

[forvegaspetessake]

Under-giffed moments (6/?)

Arm cleaning his glasses

[pedrospatch]

more hearts than mine

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

summary: Frankie promises you he’s not going anywhere.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. no physical description of reader, no mention of her age, reader has both of her parents, reader has a little sister (15 and unnamed), reader has a close relationship with her family (cannot say i am writing this from experience oop), reader is from a small, unnamed town somewhere in the midwest (state not specified), established relationship, mention of ex-boyfriend, mentions of alcohol consumption, reassurance, fluff, smutty themes towards the end but no smut.

word count: 2k

a/n: this was not planned and very spur of the moment. i think i needed a palette cleanse from writing so much joel. it’s my first time writing for frankie but i like the way it turned out. <3 i it’s 3 am, i wrote this in an hour and it is not proofread, so please excuse any errors. this is based on a song called more hearts than mine by ingrid andress.

“It’s late,” you worry. “Where could they be?”

Amused, your mother watches you anxiously pace back and forth in front of the dining room table. “My darling, can you please relax? They probably hit some traffic on their way back home from the lake. I bet you anything those two will be walking through the front door any second now,” she assures you. At that precise moment, her cell phone vibrates on the table, the loud buzzing noise garnering her attention. She picks it up and raises her eyebrows in complete surprise. “Oh. Or maybe not. Your father just texted me and said they’re stopping for a couple of drinks at the bar. He says not to wait up for them.”

Halting mid pace, you whirl around and stare at her. 

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” She shows you the text. “See?”

“Jesus,” you mutter. Shaking your head, you drop down into the chair across from hers.

“That’s a pretty good sign. Don’t you think so, honey?”

It is because your father taking your boyfriend out on a fishing trip and then taking him to his favorite bar for drinks afterwards means that their time alone together has gone well. But, even though your father had clearly taken a liking to him, he won’t ever show it. Sure, he’ll buy him dinner and he’ll buy him drinks, he’ll check his tires and take a look underneath the hood of his pickup truck to make sure everything looks good, but he’ll do it with a scowl on his face and a standoffish attitude.

“He hates me, baby. Your old man hates me,” Frankie declared after his first dinner with your family. You had both arrived in your hometown that same evening after a gruelling, sixteen hour drive to the midwest. Despite being exhausted from the trip, he’d put his best foot forward for them—he’d charmed your mother and your little sister, had them both wrapped around his finger by the time dessert had been served. But your father, oh he had been much harder for him to win over. “He barely said two words to me all night.”

“My dad doesn’t hate you,” you swore to him, rubbing a soft, soothing circle into his broad back. “Do you want to know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because he poured you a drink.”

He’d snorted. “What, and that means he likes me?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” you joked with a giggle. “It’s still too early to tell if he likes you. But one thing is for sure, he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t break out a bottle of whiskey for someone he hates, Frankie.”

Sighing, you lift your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Poor Frankie. He’s probably spent the better part of the whole day just trying to figure him out.

“I like him,” your mother says after a minute. “I like him a lot.”

“What a coincidence,” you grin. “I like him a lot too.”

She laughs. “I’m serious! He’s incredible, darling. He is so handsome. He’s sweet. Seems like he’s got a really good head on his shoulders—”

“Are we talking about Francisco?” Your sister walks into the dining room with can of Dr. Pepper in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Your mother smiles. “Isn’t he great?”

“He’s kinda perfect, actually.” She takes a casual sip of her soda and raises an eyebrow at you. “I have to admit though, I’m afraid to get attached to Frankie. You know, after what happened with Jake—”

You wince at the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name.

Your mother hisses her name, angrily.

“I’m just saying! When he broke up with you, it’s like he broke up with all of us. It sucked.” She shrugs, adding, “I mean, even dad was sad about it for months. Wasn’t he, mom?”

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Your mother glares at her.

Your sister starts towards the staircase, but stops and glances over her shoulder. “I like Frankie,” she tells you, smiling wryly. “And I really hope he sticks around.” With that, she disappears upstairs.

Sighing heavily, your mom turns to you. “Don’t listen to her. She’s only fifteen, she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t understand what happened—”

Pushing away from the table, you stand up. 

“I’m going to take a walk,” you murmur. “I need some fresh air.”

“Hermosa?”

You stir at the sound of Frankie’s voice.

“Baby. Hey. Wake up.”

“Mm?” you mumble sleepily. “Frankie, what are—ow!”

You groan when he switches on the lamp on the beside table. Rolling over, you bury your face into your pillow.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, chuckling softly. The twin sized mattress squeaks, dipping as he somehow squeezes himself beside you on your childhood bed. He’s staying in the guest room down the hallway—you parents, who were incredibly old school, had insisted the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms during your stay. Draping his arm around you, he leans down and nuzzles into the side of your face. Even with your nose buried in your pillow, you pick up the scent of sunscreen mingled with beer. “Just wanted to tell you I’m back home.”

Lifting your head, you blink furiously until your blurred vision stabilizes.

“What—what time is it?”

“Eleven.” Frankie’s cheeks and nose are red, sunburned from having been out on your dad’s boat all afternoon. You’re willing to bet he’d forgotten to put the sunscreen on his face. Even though you’d warned him a hundred times not to forget.

“What?” You sit up, prompting him to do the same. “It’s eleven and you only now just got back?”

“Your old man took me to Gordon’s,” Frankie explains, referring to one of the only few bars your small town had to offer. It was the place where you would meet with your old high school friends to catch up with each other whenever you were home visiting. At some point this week, you would be sitting in a booth at that old bar with them, introducing Frankie, and squirming when they began to tell him embarrassing stories of all those crazy nights from your senior year. “We went in with plans to have a couple beers before coming home, but then we ran into some of his buddies there. He introduced me, they bought us more drinks, and we played a game of pool. Your dad whooped my ass, of course.”

“How did fishing go?”

“Great. Y’know, once he stopped looking at me like he wanted to throw me overboard.”

You let out an amused huff. “He would never.”

“I don’t know. That man is pretty hard to read.” Frankie reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “One minute we’d be talking, shooting the shit while we waited for the fish to bite, and the next he would look at me like he was seriously thinking about pushing me off his boat and into the water.” He squeezes your hand, a deep laugh rumbling through his chest. “I spent all goddamn day with him and I still can’t tell if he likes me yet or not.”

Lifting his hand, you press a tender kiss to the back of it, a sweet token of affection.

“He likes you, Frankie,” you murmur against his skin. “I know it. My whole family likes you. Except my mom—”

He stiffens. “What?”

“She loves you.”

Frankie turns to you. Despite your smile, he can see the hint of concern in your eyes. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

You hesitate.

After what your sister had said earlier that evening, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake and brought him home too soon. You and Frankie had been together for about six months now, and besides having a drawer of your things at his place for when you stayed overnight, you two hadn’t really sat down to talk about what the next step in your relationship would be—you and Frankie hadn’t discussed the possibility of a future together. Truth be told, you had never felt the need to question him about where this was heading. You’d been perfectly content in allowing things to unfold between you without putting any kind of pressure on yourself, or on him. At least, up until now, you had been content.

You’d been silly to think bringing Frankie home to meet your family wouldn’t be all that big of a deal, that it wouldn’t make you consider what came next. But you had forgotten how easily your mother falls in love, how quickly your little sister can form an attachment, and how your father, despite being rough around the edges, feels every heartache you go through as if it’s his own.

You think back to when your previous relationship went down in flames, you remember the helpless look on your father’s face whenever he would see you crying. “I never liked him,” he’d said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey over ice. But that had been a lie. He’d seen him as the son he never had. He lost something, too. Your whole family had to heal from that loss along with you.

Part of you is afraid that it could happen again.

“Amor?”

Frankie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

You glance down at your hand in his. “Frankie, the last thing I want to do is scare you off,” you start to say, a nervous edge to your tone. “Or put any kind of pressure on you to give me anything more than what you have already given me. But now that you’ve met my family, I can’t help but worry a little bit.”

He frowns. “What are you worried about?”

Sighing, you confess, “My last relationship—it didn’t end very well, Frankie. My family loved him, adored him the way I can see they’re already starting to adore you. When he broke up with me, he broke more hearts than just mine.” You force yourself to look up, and meet his gaze with a wistful smile. “I guess there’s a part of me that’s scared it’ll happen again.”

Frankie’s dark brown eyes soften. “Oh baby, there’s no need to be scared. That’s never gonna happen.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll never happen?”

“Easy, because I love you. And I know you love me.” He reaches over with his free hand and he cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheekbone. “I’m in this for the long haul. I wouldn’t have driven sixteen hours across the country with you to come meet your family if I wasn’t. I’m serious about you—I’m serious about us, baby.”

Frankie leans in, gently pressing his mouth to yours in a chaste, but sweet kiss.

“Do you wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you see?”

“Mi futuro,” he tells you. “I see my future.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest. “You do?”

“I do. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, and so is your family,” Frankie grins. “Your dad is gonna have plenty of opportunities to contemplate throwing me off his boat and into the lake.”

You giggle as he kisses you again before trailing his lips down to your neck. “Frankie,” you say his name warningly as he pushes you onto your back. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently, positioning himself on top of you. He plants his hands on either side of your head and dips his head, nipping lightly at the tender flesh over your pulse point. “How thin are these walls?”

“Francisco Morales, no, you are not fucking me in my parent’s house, not in my childhood bedroom—”

His bulge brushes against your thigh and you gasp.

“Guess I’ll head back to the guest room, then,” Frankie murmurs, feathering one last kiss onto your neck.

He starts to climb off of you and your hands shoot out, curling around fistfuls of his shirt to stop him.

“I can be quiet,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip. You take one of his hands and guide it underneath the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing to the apex of your thighs. “Can you?”

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, running a finger along the damp cotton of your panties. He slips it beneath the fabric, his blood rushing south when he meets your slick folds. “God, I fucking hope so, or else I’ll actually end up at the bottom of that fucking lake.”

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks, pro heroes au

It was embarrassing, really, to be standing here off to the sides sulking at a party like this, especially over something so very not important.

There were a lot of things that were important to Keigo Takami, aka pro hero Hawks, and winning was certainly not one of them.

Justice, peace, freedom, good food, a safe place to rest, those were important things in Keigo's life.

Winning was NOT up there.

So why the hell did this bother him so much?

He had just broken the Top 10 rankings during his first year as a pro, that was crazy, that was unheard of!

Except for the fact that pro hero Super Nova did it last year.

The first one who ever did.

And look, that wasn't even fair, because Keigo hadn't even debuted yet!

But now he was doomed to be the second one out. The second youngest to break though top 10, and he was still ranked behind goddamn Super Nova.

All that training with the commission, his whole life dedicated to this, and sure, he saved a lot of people, and that should matter the most, but...

Of course it mattered the most.

Keigo sighed deeply, took a sip of the Champagne that he definitely should not be drinking, blew his bangs out of his face, and used his wings to push himself away from the wall he'd been clinging to.

...right into another person.

"Oh shit, I mean, oops, I'm sorry!" Keigo stammered nervously, all the social training he'd been undergoing flying out the window.

He tried to put on a charming but apologetic smile as he looked up, but it quickly fell from his face as he realized he's just pushed himself right into goddamn Super Nova.

Of all the fucking people at this party.

The (beautiful) white haired man looked down at him with those (striking) blue eyes and raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey kid, no worries!" he said with a real charming smile, and Keigo just about fucking had it.

"I'm not a kid."

He didn't quite mean for the sentence to come out that venomous, but fuck it. The guy kinda deserved it.

"What?" Super Nova asked, clearly confused by Keigo's reaction.

Keigo rolled his eyes.

"I'm barley a year younger than you."

Super Nova nodded.

"I know, I didn't mean anything by it, I just -"

"See me as inferior?" Keigo finished the sentence for him, and realized he probably should have stopped after one glass of Champagne.

He could not handle alcohol to have his life.

The friendliness fell off Super Nova's face totally now, and he grabbed Keigo but the upper arm gently, but firmly.

"I think you need some air," he declared, and Keigo couldn't find it in himself to disagree.

The white haired hero guided Keigo out to a small balcony out in the long hallway outside the gala room, and the fresh air hitting his face was one of the most amazing things Keigo had ever felt.

Maybe next to the other hero's hand around his arm.

Wait, what?

"You feelin' any better?" said hero asked, and Keigo nodded.

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbled, and damn Super Nova smirked at him again.

This time however, it wasn't fury that bloomed in Keigo's chest.

"Champagne and warm, stuffy galas gets to the best of us, man," the other pro said casually, and Keigo rolled his eyes.

"What, because you have so much experience with that?" Keigo asked sarcastically, but to his surprise Super Nova nodded.

"Yeah, actually, I do," he said with a smirk as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his suit jacket.

Of fucking course.

He held on up to offer to Keigo, and calmly put I back when Keigo shook his head.

"Don't you want on yourself?" Keigo asked, and Super Nova shrugged.

"It's okay, if you don't smoke I bet you don't want me puffing smoke up in your face, either."

Keigo pursed his lips.

"Oh. Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, and Super Nova chuckled.

"No worries, little bird."

Keigo felt his mouth fall open at the nerve of this guy, but didn't say anything.

"Anyways, it was my second gala as a pro, I had five glasses of Champagne because of the heat and ended up cursing out my dad in front of all the poor people in the kitchen of this place," Super Nova finished with a shake of his head.

"Not my finest moment."

Keigo tilted his head, trying to figure out if he was being serious.

"What, you yelled at Endeavor if front of the whole kitchen staff?" he finally asked, and got rewarded with a slightly surprised expression on the other man's face.

"So you do know," he said, and it was finally Keigo's turn to smirk.

"That you're a Todoroki?" he asked, and the other man nodded.

"I might be fresh on the pro circuit, but I wasn't born yesterday," Keigo said as he felt a brave flare in his chest and decided to lean closer to the other hero to whisper;

"Touya."

Touya smirked back at him, taking the bait and leaning in further himself.

"Well I'd be damned, little bird," he said slyly.

Keigo felt his face turn pink, but didn't back down.

"I wasn't the second youngest to break into the top 10 circuit for nothing, you know," he said with a wink, and Touya laughed softly.

"First one who wasn't a nepo baby, tho," the other hero said with a wink back at him.

Keigo raised his eyebrows as he finally leaned back a little.

"Maybe not in the traditional way, no, but..." he trailed off, not sure how to explain the whole commission thing just like that.

Touya raised his eyebrows.

"But?" he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"But, I think I need a little more champagne before I'm ready for that conversation," Keigo admitted, and Touya smirked.

"Well, I happen to know my way around the kitchen of this place, so if I get the Champagne, and you'll give me the full story?"

Krig chuckled.

"I guess that would be a fair trade," he admitted, and Touya smiled back.

"Meet you back here in five?" he asked, and Keigo nodded.

"Deal," he agreed, and Touya snickered.

"Deal, indeed, little bird."

[ghostmoon1]

Love at first sight

Okay, so I saw a few other of the Call of duty x OC ships, and I started to obsess. So of course, I decided to make my own. And I tried to write how they met. Sooooo here is some of it! If you like it let me know and maybe I'll continue it (I do have a lil more planned.

Soap x Florence (OC)

PART TWO

Summary: After a long mission, Soap decides to cool off at the bar. Little does he know, he'll probably meet the love of his life that night. Word Count: 1660

Warnings: Nothing much, little bit of alcohol, mentions of bad ex (not too bad). Soap being his usual self.

Working in the army was always tiring. It was an expected part of the job, endless training and exercises, exhausting missions. Of course, John knew it wasn’t safe. It never is. 

After a very tiresome week of being deployed, the team decided to take some time off. It was a long needed rest, and of course, John decided to spend some of his time at the bar. It wasn’t far from base, only the next town over. Even so, it was a much needed escape from the bustling military camp, away from his superiors and other soldiers. He has become a regular in this place, the bartender nodding his greetings whenever he walks inside. He was a nice man, a veteran himself. He knew how stressful army life was. He just couldn't tell his manager about the discounts Johnny receives often. 

It was like any other day, he sat on the barstool in front of the bar, a glass of scotch whiskey in hand. Lifting it up to his mouth, he let the cool liquid fall down his throat, humming in contentment. The bar was dimly lit, most of the lights had blown by now, and no one ever thought to replace them. The light reflected off the recently polished ash wood. Scuffs and scrapes show the wear and tear of the place, probably caused by a few too many drinks and arguments. Possibly a few flying chairs.

The peacefulness of his drink and mind was interrupted by a sudden bang next to him, making him flinch. 

“Give me your strongest.”

He looked at the women who had appeared next to him. Her ginger hair settled along her collarbone in ringlets, almost glowing in the dim light. A small floral dress hugged her figure, the pearl fabric decorated with illustrations of roses and other assortments of flowers. The ruffles cupped her arms, falling just off her shoulders. 

He’s seen her here before. Quite often actually. She’s here at least once a week, from what he’s seen as well as the way the bartender reacted. The bartender looked almost disappointed.

The bartender raised a brow, then continued to make her up the drink. He slides it across the table, her hand wrapping around the glass and bringing it up to her mouth within seconds. 

“Rough day?” Johnny asks, his Scottish accent breaking the silence and distant chatter.

She sets the glass down and pulls herself onto the bar stool, sighing softly. “Yeah… you can say that.”

He furrows his brow. Poor lass looks like she’s been through hell…

“And why’s that, lass?”

She drifts off into her own mind, staring at the bar, tracing along the patterns of the wood with her eyes. Her fingers trace the brim of her glass, the condensation dripping off the edge of the glass. “Well…had a date planned. Until he stood me up”

He looked over her features, she looked tired and worn out. Her shoulders slumped and her head hanging down slightly. “Oh lass… I’m sorry ‘bout that. It looks like it may not be the first time?”

She shakes her head and takes another swig of her drink. “Happened more times than I can count now…”

She sounded… defeated? A poor girl like this, Johnny thought she was absolutely stunning. Even with her defeated expression and the exhausted chiselled into her features. Why would anyone want to stand her up? She obviously wanted to make a food impression, from the way she was presented. Beautiful dress, heels laced up around her calf, clean makeup, her hair separated into perfect ringlets. She knew how to present herself. But even so, some asshole ruined her night.

“Thats no good lass… he sounds like an asshole for doing this to you.”

She shakes her head and skulls the rest of her drink. “He texted me he had some things to do…”

His brows knit together in scepticism. What sort of man would give a beautiful woman like her such a vague excuse? Did she even know why, what the real reason was? A real gentleman wouldn't bail out on such a lovely girl. 

“I’m sorry to say lass, but i dont think that’d be the reason…”

She lets out another long and heavy sigh. She knew he was making up reasons. Of course he would bail out on her. This always happens. As a kid she was always told she was too loud, too boisterous, ladies should only be seen and not heard. At this point she might as well not be seen.

“I see that… I'm really not surprised. It's definitely not the first time”

John hums in response and takes another sip of his drink, letting it soak into his taste buds for a second before swallowing. “What’s ya’ name lass, if you don't mind me’ askin’?”

“Florence… and yours?”

“Florence,” he repeats, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. “M’ names John. You can call me Johnny, if ya’ like.” 

He hums for a moment as he repeats her name in his head. Florence… Florence. Such a pretty name for a pretty lady.

“Alright… well what brought you here?” she asks as she gestures for another drink from the bartender. 

“Just relaxing after a… rough week to say the least,” he replies, taking another swig of his own drink. He pauses as an idea pops into his head. “Lass, may I ask ya’ somethin?”

She raises a brow in question, then nods as she sips at her drink. “Go ahead.”

“How about… i take a lovely lass like yourself on a date, no bailing out. Promise.”

She pauses for a moment. He could see the gears in her head spinning. He silently prays she might at least consider his offer. She's been stood up so many times already… would she really consider it? She’d be scared to only be hurt again, end up in a bar alone all over. If he were in her shoes, he wouldn't want this to happen to him either. 

She hums for a moment longer before replying. “You know what, okay. I’ll give you a chance.”

John’s mouth twitches up into a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the side. She actually accepted his date. He will not let her down. “That's great to hear, lass! I promise I won't let you down.”

She smiles and nods. Maybe she’ll actually have a date where they showed up. Maybe things will change. “How bout’. 7pm, saturday night? I can pick you up,” John says through his grin, his attempt to hide his excitement failing horribly. 

“I can do that… yeah”

John grins from ear to ear. He was practically vibrating in his chair. Such a beautiful woman, accepting his offer on a date. Who would have known that’d he’d pick up a date on his usual trip to the bar tonight? He’s had plenty of dates before, although they didn't feel like they really meant anything. Sure, he took them out for dinner or something, but he never felt a connection. Some of the women just left halfway through. He was trying so hard for them, but they just didn't feel the same. Hook-ups became the new normal, trying to get any sort of feeling out. Of course, they ended up being meaningless, just sex and she was usually gone by the morning. 

“Can I get yer number lass?” 

She nods and he passes her his phone. She hands it back, with her number now saved and her name set. With a heart. He couldn't help the smile that pricked at his cheeks and the feeling of warmth that flooded his face.

After getting to know her for an hour, she gets a call from a friend and arranges to be picked up. He was a little disappointed he couldn't drop her home himself, but he didn't want to accidently push boundaries. Especially before their date. He was almost giddy as he made his way back to base. The smile on his face simply wouldn't leave him. He somehow got so lucky to get such a beautiful date? He almost thought he was dreaming. Or the alcohol. 

He pulls up to base, showing his ID to the guards at the front gate and parking his car. He made his way through the quiet barracks, only the sound of a few hushed voices and footsteps to be heard. It was late at night, 11:39pm. Most would be trying to sleep, getting ready for another day of training. He walks past the rec room, noticing Gaz and Price inside. He steps inside, grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge.

“You seem happy tonight Soap, almost giddy” Gaz observes from his place on the couch.

“Picked myself up a lil lass tonight! She’s an absolute beauty!” 

Price’s eyebrows raise slightly. “You got a date?”

He nods happily as he flops onto the couch, almost landing on Gaz’s knee. “Watch out there buddy” Gaz warns with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“She's a beauty! Poor lass has stood up too many times to count, so I offered her a date. And she accepted!”

“Well good on you, hopefully it goes well” Gaz says with a grin. Of course he was happy for his teammate, knowing how well his past relationships have been.

John still couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Their conversation was stopped as Ghost entered the room. His balaclava is still on, showing only his eyes.

“What's got you so giddy?”

John’s grin only widens further. “Got myself a date!”

He couldn't tell what Ghost’s expression was under the mask, but he could’ve sworn he saw a small smile. Unless it was the lighting in the room playing tricks on him. He makes a gruff humming noise, his own way of telling John good job. “Just don't scare her off, yeah?”

John laughs and nods, the smile now permanently carved into his face. “Yeah, I won't”

[star-girl69]

Aemond x plus size reader

Innocent reader is unaware the man she has been talking to has made a bet with others on who could sleep with her first and ruin her reputation Aemond over hears them and dishes out some classics fuck around and find out justice for her?

Thank you!

a/n: tysm for this request anon!!! sorry it took me like eight million years to do it lmao but i hope you all enjoy!!!!

also side note but everyone PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS FOR DAEMON I LOVE HIM SM I NEED TO WRITE FOR HIM

warnings: swearing, aemond is a creep, aemond thinks and says some not very kind things, aemond is a perv tbh, obsessiveness, possessiveness, violence, mentions of sex, this is just honestly very suggestive and dirty, alcohol, death, mentions of blood, tell me if i missed anything!!

Defend Your Honor

—-

“Goodnight, Aemond.” You looked up at him so sweetly, smiling with heat in your cheeks. You should always look like this, he decided. He wanted nothing more to than to stay in your company for a little longer, but he let his hand fall from yours, let you walk away.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He called out to her, and she looked at him over her shoulder. She had her eye on him, he knew, and he had his eyes on her.

Although they hadn’t made anything official yet, the way she melted under him was promise enough. The way she was always so needy to kiss him, the way his fingers sunk into her soft hips when he took what was his, that was promise enough. She was his, and there was no denying that.

Aemond could care less that others saw her as undesirable. He only had one eye, and yet he saw more clear than them. It did not matter that she was from a lower house, he would take her, and he would marry her.

Fuck. She finally disappeared around the corner, not turning back. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as with one glimpse of her lips or the curve of her neck, Aemond might pounce on her all over again.

He clenched his fists.

He needed her so badly, and constantly. He needed her in the morning, afternoon, and night. He needed her in sleep, in wake. In light, in darkness.

What made her so different was that Aemond needed all of her. He needed the curve of her hips, the swell of her ass, her soft lips, but he also needed her conversation and her comforting presence.

She was just made for him, he supposed.

He turned quickly, heading back towards the feast. He needed wine. Ale. Whiskey. Something to calm himself, stop the tightening of his pants. Take his mind off of her.

He bursted through the doors, eyeing down the nearest servant and snatching a glass of champagne from the tray they carried. He didn’t even bother to look at who he was harassing, downing the first glass and another.

The alcohol settled in his stomach.

Better, he mused in his mind, much better.

While nothing could compare to the taste and feel of her, this did come close.

He stepped away from the poor servant, instead choosing the stalk the room. Perhaps two drunken men would get into a fight, provide him with some entertainment. Without his sweet girl next to him, he was utterly bored.

He perked up at the sound of boisterous laughter across the halls, finding a table of young men. These were all first or second sons, future lords and important men. They were arrogant, and sometimes gave him a good laugh. He scanned the room.

No fights. He sighed, making his way over to the table of men.

The leader of them, perhaps a Tyrell, straightened and raised his cups in greeting to the one-eyed prince.

“My prince,” a few men echoed, taking notice of his presence. Aemond nodded, sitting at the end next to a Lannister man he was quite fond of.

He and this Lannister man were quite similar, he supposed.

Nothing came close to dragons, but he could appreciate a lion’s roar.

He recognized a man sitting next to the Tyrell son. A Baratheon. Stefan Baratheon was a proud and horrid man, and one of his beloved’s suitors.

Just until everything fell into place, she had to at least pretend to be entranced by these horrible, boring men. None compared to him. His chest tightened at the thought of his girl with another man.

But he pushed the thoughts away, a servant placing a glass of wine in front of him. Him and the Lannister man fell into a polite conversation, and Aemond found himself actually interested. A rare thing without you next to him.

It seemed Tyran Lannister had a paramour as well, and was in a similar situation to Aemond. They laughed, each claiming that their lover was better than the other. It was all lighthearted, and Aemond let his mouth curve into a small smile during the conversation.

“This one whore my father-” a hiccup, “is forcing me to court, Gods, she might be the ugliest bitch I’ve ever seen. Fuckin’- fuck, what’s her name? She’s from the Vale, maybe. I get why they fuck sheep now. They’re definitely smaller than her!” More boisterous laughing, the sound of skin slapping as a man next to him clapped him on the back. Another cheered his cup with him, wine spilling all over the table. The laughter only increased. “Y/N!” He suddenly shouted, and Aemond looked at him.

What the fuck could your pretty name be doing in his mouth?

“That’s her name. She is- Gods- something. Fatter than the fattest sheep, I tell you. I bet I- I could get her to fuck me. Gods knows I’m the best she’ll ever get.”

Aemond didn’t know what was doing. White hot rage covered him- and he couldn’t think straight. He slammed his cup onto the table, eye glaring at Stefan Baratheon.

The table turned to the one-eyed prince.

“Did you know, Lord Baratheon, that Lady Y/N is to be my wife? My dear Queenly Mother is in the process of negotiating with her father as we speak.”The lie rolled off his tongue easily. Soon it would be true.

Perhaps the alcohol in Sefan’s blood made him even more stupid than he already was, because while every other man as the table tensed, he laughed.

“I pity you, My Prince. I pity you.”

“Continue to talk and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

He seemed confused now, setting his cup down. “My Prince, I-”

“Get out of my fucking sight. I’m being reasonable right now. But with these men as my witness, say one more word and I will rip your throat out myself.”

Gods, this man was stupid. The Tyrell man and another next to him both put hands on his back, whispering at him to leave.

“I’m just saying the truth.”

At first, Aemond couldn’t quite believe he had said that.

“You will die, tonight.” Aemond’s chair was thrown back as he stood up, and Stefan did as well.

Stefan braced his fists, got into a fighting stance.

Aemond walked around the table. The other men watched him, perhaps in awe or fear, as he took a knife out of his waistband.

Stefan made the first smart choice he had made all night. He fell to his knees, begging forgiveness of the one-eyed Prince.

But Aemond had already given him a chance. He would have let Stefan live, after he had been removed from court and betrothed to the ugliest woman Aemond could find.

But he just couldn’t keep his mouth closed.

Stefan Baratheon got to keep his tongue and throat that night, a knife plunged into his heart instead.

—-

It was just after your handmaidens had gotten you ready for bed when the door burst open.

“Aemond!” You shouted, watching as he barred the door behind himself, pacing back and forth at the foot of your bed. “Aemond- is- is something wrong? Did something happen?” Maybe your eyes were tired from sleep, but blood seemed to be splattered on his face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He stopped his pacing, letting out a deep breath. His fists were clenched at his sides, finger nails no doubt leaving impressions. “I fear I would hurt you if I touched you. I am still- still so filled with anger.” You beckoned him over to you, and he answered your call, staying a few feet back.

Now that he was closer, you could see the blood on his face.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He didn’t seem to be hurt, so you weren’t too worried. But still, it gnawed at your heart.

“I’m fine, my love. Fine.” His fists unclenched, and suspecting that it was what he needed, you let his eye trail over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin your nightgown allowed. You had sat up in bed, sheets pooling around your waist.

He took a step forward, taking your hands in his own. Gently, he placed a kiss to the back of each hand, and even with the blood on his face, you blushed at the sweet gesture.

“My Y/N,” he rasped, and you reveled in it. “You are so perfect. So mine.”

You were used to his searing compliments, but this time it felt different. You didn’t mind, still enjoying his attention regardless.

“Would you break the rules with me? Let me sleep in your bed tonight?”

You smiled. You suspected he would climb into your bed sometime in the night, as he did most nights.

“Of course, Aemond.”

He took off his leather jacked, folding it and placing it at the end of your bed. He slipped off his shoes, and you waited eagerly for him to return to where he belonged, right next to you. Eager to return where you belonged, right in his arms.

He lifted the sheets, took you into his arms as you laid your head on his chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeat. You traced circles onto his chest with your finger, and he wrapped his own arms around you.

He turned, blowing the candle on your bedside table out. The room was enveloped in darkness, and you let your eyes fall shut.

“Will you tell me what happened? Why there’s blood on your face?” You could already feel yourself drifting off, everything so perfect, so right, in the arms of your Aemond.

“I defended your honor, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your head, and sleep washed over you like a wave.

—-

[ladykailitha]

Here we go! The scene that started it all. The reason for the fic. Yes, the story is based on the song “Low Key in Love” by The Struts ft. Paris Jackson, but this was the scene that kept replying in my head until I wrote it. Also, you’ll need tissues. I cry every time I read this, sooo...

***

Let it not be said that that Alexander Harrington, known to his friends as Xander, didn’t know how to throw a party. When The Kings got signed his son’s senior year of high school, he threw the biggest bash the town had ever seen.

He had to invite everyone, of course. Though if he had had his way only the best people would have been able to come. But as he looked around his home satisfied, he figured it was a good thing to let the lowly masses see for once how the other half lived. Let them seethe in their jealousy and envy.

Steve on the other hand was miserable. He hated it. He hated Tommy. He hated Billy. And fuck it, let’s throw hating Jonathan in there as a treat. Because seriously what. The. Honest. Fuck? Where had he been hiding all that talent? Under a fucking rock? It wasn’t fair. Jonathan was naturally talented where Steve had to work so hard to get the moves right. Something Billy was always sure to mock.

He was sitting in his living room watching everyone have fun without him. People had long since stopped congratulating him on his record deal hours ago. Steve vaguely wondered where his father was. Probably smoozing with Tommy’s dad. Steve scoffed. He knew Alexander Harrington wouldn’t be deigning to talk to Joyce Byers or Neil Hargrove. One was working poor, the other was straight up trailer trash.

He could see Joyce talking to Jonathan in the corner of the room, rubbing his back and muttering comforting promises. Steve didn’t even think his mother had even stayed past greeting the parents of her son’s band before fucking off to get drunk off her ass in some fancy hotel bar. Portia Harrington did not mingle.

Steve got up and wandered in the direction of his room. Well, he tried to wander, but it was more like a beeline because no one even questioned his path or stopped him to say hello. In his own fucking house. Yeah. He was done.

He opened the door to his room and was shocked to see someone was already in it. The other boy had long brown, curly hair and deep soulful eyes. Steve gulped. He had never thought about how attractive boys could be until that moment.

Maybe there had been some fleeting crushes and even more fleeting glances at boys in the shower room or hot actors. But until this moment with this boy, Steve never really thought too deeply about it. He sure the hell was now, though.

“Hey!” the other boy said, whirling around to face him. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!”

Steve could smell the alcohol from here, but he wasn’t sure if it was that the boy had been drinking or if it was coming from the shirt the boy held in one of his hands. But now that he could see the boy’s face he knew exactly who it was.

“Munson, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Steve spit out before his brain could catch up to his mouth.

Eddie blushed. His cheeks were already rosy with the alcohol but they burned red in embarrassment. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

Steve raised his eyebrow.

“Some asshole spilled drink on my favorite Dio shirt and I was trying to find a way to clean it,” Eddie said with a winsome grin, he held up the shirt to show him. Then he tried to take a step closer but tripped stumbling straight into Steve’s arms. “Did anyone tell you you have really pretty eyes?”

It was Steve’s turn to blush as he held Eddie up. “No. If anyone compliments me, it’s usually the hair.” He paused and cocked his head thoughtfully. “Or the ass.”

Eddie hummed appreciatively. “Both are pretty amazing,” he agreed, standing up enough to put one hand in Steve’s hair and the other on his ass.

Steve’s stomach swooped.

“You like that, pretty boy?” Eddie asked, pulling Steve closer.  

He nodded and Eddie leaned forward to kiss him. Steve had been kissed and had kissed several girls up to this point, but this? This was on a whole other continent. It felt good.

Steve’s hands immediately went for Eddie’s hair, having been wanting to know what it felt like for years. And it was softer and silkier than he could have imagined.

Eddie broke off their kiss and Steve whined his loss. “Who knew Stevie boy liked the boys.”

Steve pressed forward and recaptured Eddie’s lips. Their hands immediately went for each other’s clothes, grasping and tugging as they tried to get at skin. They tumbled toward the bed as they scrambled to get Steve’s shirt and their pants off.

They land on the bed with a thump and a giggle. Steve’s shirt had gone and Eddie’s pants were unbuttoned.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Steve breathed, straddling over Eddie’s hips.

Eddie grinned, reaching up for him. “Then come get me, big boy.”

Steve leaned down to kiss him again, just then the door slammed opened and Steve’s dad stood at the door. There was no mistaking Eddie for attacking Steve, not with Steve on top. It was very clear that both boys were very into what was happening too.

Mr Harrington pulled Steve off of Eddie throwing him to the ground. He wasn’t a beefy guy, but Xander Harrington boxed to keep in shape. Tossing a surprised Steve took very little effort on his part. He grabbed Eddie and hauled the drunk young man out the back door. He tossed him onto the cold hard pavement around the swimming pool.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Mr Harrington sneered. “And if I see you back here before we leave for LA, just know I’ve got a shotgun and the best lawyers in the state.”

Steve who had been following close behind, rushed to Eddie’s side. He looked around for help, but of the few people milling about by the pool, none of them were paying this little drama any mind.

“And no son of mine will be a queer, do you understand?” Mr Harrington roared.

Steve tried to help Eddie to his feet, but Eddie kept shrugging him off.

“Eddie!” Steve murmured. “Just...please!”

Eddie looked over at Steve as if seeing him for the first time. He could tell that Steve hadn’t planned any of this. That Steve was just as distressed as he was about Xander Harrington’s rage. He let Steve help him to his feet and whispered. “Run away with me. Come find me tomorrow at the park behind the community pool.”

Steve nodded, a small, barely there movement. But it was enough. Eddie staggered away from the party, head pounding louder than his heart.

*

Steve showed up at the park picnic table, backpack slung over his shoulder, Eddie’s shirt in his hand. He managed to get it cleaned and dried so he could return it.

Eddie was already there nursing a hangover of epic proportions. He had dark circles under his eyes like bruises and red, puffy eyes. He whirled around to see Steve standing awkwardly at the edge of the trees.

“What do you want, Harrington?” Eddie snarled from the pain in his head.

Steve hesitated a bit before lurching forward with the shirt. “Um...you left this at my place last night. You said it was your favorite so I wanted to get it back to you.”

“So that’s where it went,” Eddie said, taking it from Steve gingerly, unsure were this bout of kindness was coming from.

“You don’t remember leaving it last night?” Steve asked, his voice cracking.

“Fuck, man,” Eddie sneered. “I drank so much last night I couldn’t even remember my own name this morning.”

Steve lips quiver. “You don’t remember any of it?”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Wait I do remember being thrown out for kissing a guy. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

Steve gulped taking a step back. “No! Of course not.”

Eddie eyed him warily. He could tell Steve was lying. But it was a strange kind of reaction. Like Steve was just as terrified of him, as Eddie was of Steve. That couldn’t be right.

“Whatever, man,” Eddie sneered. “Just go.”

Steve took a step toward him and Eddie leveled him with a glare. Steve stopped in his tracks, tears welling up in his eyes.

“You really don’t remember any of it?” he whispered.

“Not a god damned thing,” Eddie bit out. He was starting to worry that he had seen something he shouldn’t have or done something he shouldn’t have. Because Steve was really starting to freak out.

There was a snap of a twig beyond the tree line and Steve startled like a wounded animal. He turned around and ran the opposite direction of the noise and Eddie tilted his head.

What on earth had that been about?

Jeff came out of the trees with McDonald’s and hot coffee. “Best hangover cure there ever was.”

Eddie nodded and took his food from his friend. Jeff spotted the shirt next to him.

“Oh hey, man, you found it!” he said excitedly.

Eddie just nodded and munched quietly on his food. And as he ate, his head felt better but there was a great big black void where his memories of last night were concerned.

Over the next couple of days he kept expecting Harrington to come back, but the boy remained absent. He didn’t even know why he was waiting. Or what he was waiting for. But he felt it like a hole in his chest.

The next time he saw Steve Harrington in person was when he was introducing himself to the band at the sound check ten years later at the Love Loud concert as if they were total strangers. Just further proof the Munson Doctrine is never wrong.

***

I’m tagging everyone from the Star Child main list

Tag List: @bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches  @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname  @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @imfinereallyy @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @lillithhellfire @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon @localgaydisaster @bookbinderbitch

[velvetcloxds]

looking for somebody- send me a gif of a character and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

HOTSHOT | S.B.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: I got carried away, it's a fic now lol

“You have anything non-alcoholic back there?” you asked the bartender, quieter than you should be, probably just barely being heard over the rumble of the birthday party going on around you, the night just about ready to turn rowdy as everyone settled into the shots part of the night. You were clutching your clutch between your hands, looking down at the countertop of the bar, peanut shells and various unidentified liquids littering the messy surface and you tried with all your might to swallow a frown, squeezing between two bar stools to lean over the counter to check for yourself.

“What was that?” the man asked, in the middle of shaking up a cocktail, not bothering to look over at you while someone barked an order at him, clearly not all too phased by the fact that he was busy. 

You felt for the man, throwing him a soft smile and a dismissive hand, knowing your order wasn’t all that important for him to try and manage it between everyone else’s. You wondered how he managed to do it all at once by himself, there was usually someone behind there with him- Sirius, you thought- he was quick on his feet and with his tongue, a regular flirt. You recognized him from high school, not sure how he’d ended up working in a place like this but something made you think he wasn’t all that fussed about how the place ran in his absence, in fact, you were quite sure he’d not mind at all if you jumped in to give the bartender a hand, someone surely should. Before you’d allowed yourself to process the thought, you were sneaking under the bar, fixing your hair, and hesitantly placing your clutch behind one of the blenders. 

“Thought you needed a hand,” you smiled as the bartender in question turned to you in surprise, pausing for barely a second to hear your explanation and in the blink of it you saw his name tag, James, it read. You were sure you’d heard that somewhere. “I can’t do anything fancy but I could manage to open a bottle, pull a lever, or poor a shot,” you offered, already taking a bottle of something from the shelf behind you, not bothering to see what it was.  

“Fine by me, just don’t break anything,” he sighed with a raised brow, stealing the bottle from your hand and replacing it with another. “Tequila, not water,” he deadpanned before going back to his cocktail, missing the embarrassed look on your face as you read the label. The first few order were simple enough, a few beers, some shots, and a random whiskey, it was starting to feel quite fun, despite the high demand and it was much better than trying to dance with a bunch of strangers. 

“I’ll take one of those, love,” a voice demanded from behind you, the empty beer bottles you’d scooped up from the counter falling into the trashcan with an echoed glass thud. “Though, a full one might be better,” he added and you scoffed, pulling a full one from the fridge before turning around to see who the voice belonged to. You weren’t expecting to find the man whose job you’d momentarily stolen, a smirk bright enough to blind you dancing on his lips as you slid the beer over to him. “Thanks,” he took a sip, a slow one, far too simple a gesture to have your knees as weak as they were. “Now, you mind telling me what you’re doing behind my bar? Think I’d remember hiring a pretty little thing like you.” 

“Your bar?”

“Last time I checked,” he was arrogant, not the type that had you balling your first and rolling your eyes, the type that had you leaning onto the very counter you’d been disgusted by an hour ago. 

“James was struggling, thought I should offer him a hand,” you were finding your senses again, raising a brow as he looked around, the rush that sent you back here had passed, leaving a very manageable crowd for James to handle all by himself. 

“I think he’d handled worse.”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to run into you,” you tried, surprised by yourself and by the almost animated laugh he offered you, so was he. “Getting behind your bar, getting into your bed, it’s all the same thing to guys like you, no?” 

“Guys like me?” his tone dipped, eyes darkened as he leaned in as well, beer in hand as the other very daringly went to rest under his chin, showing you how interested he was in whatever you’d say next. “You don’t even know my name, darling, and you already think you know me?”

“I know your name,” you shrugged, grabbing your clutch before scurrying beneath the bar and out just as smoothly as before, smiling as you stood up directly next to his stool. “But I guess there won’t be any harm in getting to know you better, prove myself wrong.” 

“I’m free right now,” he quipped and you shook your head, silently scolding him for being so presumptuous. 

“No, you're not, you got to get to work, hotshot,” you informed him, a small scoff earned as he turned in his seat, making no effort to hide the way his eyes traveled down your body before meeting your gaze again. “See you around, Sirius.”

tagging: @cauliflowertree @natashxromanovf @scarlet-prey

[skepsiss]

Heart Beat City -- Steddie

The tang of alcohol on his tongue drenched the room Eddie was in with a blurred glow. The pull of music, dark corners, and vivid exchanges made his drug-riddled brain feel heavy and light all at once. Like a buoy on a bumpy sea, he watched as flutters of people migrated across the dance floor and into private booths. The music was nothing to him: a loud backdrop to shake his chest as he sat in one of those dark corners of the bar. Live music had melted into crackly recorded classics. 

Heart Beat City, Building the Perfect Beast, Reckoning–he could name every one of the songs that bled into one another but didn't care about a single one of them. Summer of love. Boys of the summer. Solo debuts... it was all noise to him at this point. 

He was operating like a machine, raising the bottle to his lips and drinking, watching men and women alike fade into the dark interior of the bar like so much else. He wasn't here alone and even though he had to put effort into remembering who he walked in here with he was aware that he wasn't alone. Gareth, Benson–some of the guys. This wasn't the first time they had crashed a bar outside of Hawkins, piling into a van on a Friday night for a spot of fun. But Eddie wasn't having fun, he was just watching everyone else have fun. Men, women, bodies pressed against one another in a too-crowded bar and he was acting like a moody 85-year-old drinking his sorrows away.

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the poor choice of mixing drugs and alcohol but after he had turned out his pockets and sold the last of the LSD he had come here with he had felt his mood drop. One of the reasons they had chosen this bar was because it was a hookup spot–a friendly hookup spot. It had its back allies and locked doors, one-stall bathrooms, and it was an easy place to hit up to sell. Drug money to buy beer, beer to waste the night away. They were probably going to sleep in the van tonight anyways. 

But Eddie was just watching as his friends filtered out of view, crashing into women like an all-powerful tide, both of their bodies moving together... he wished he could talk to girls like that. He wished that despite his patches, leather, and spikes that it was easier to approach women, but none of them ever picked him. It wasn't the worst, he liked men more anyways. That was why this bar was friendly. 

He put no effort into being approachable, his mood soured by jealousy as people paired off and a new quartet entered the dance floor. Greenhorns and experts alike doing this same dance every Friday night. He was tired of it. He was tired, but despite himself when his beer was finished he walked back up to the bar and ordered another, lingering. He wore bandanas in his pockets and leaned on bar counters, signalled to any wayward man who passed by. In these kinds of bars, it didn't take very long for someone to notice. Light blue for oral, black for rough sex, orange for casual–it all meant something, and people noticed when you hung out at bars like this.

So when men approached Eddie, when people leaned on the bars beside him before his beer made it back to him and asked to buy him a drink he wouldn't even need to smile. He wouldn't need to talk to them like he had to talk to girls to get them interested in him, these men knew right away what to say. They'd test and Eddie would put the neck of the bottle in his mouth, he'd tip it up, and try not to lose focus with his brain half mashed. They'd touch his hand and he'd touch back, pretending that this was some sort of romance, that they had talked for hours and he was charmed by them. These guys, they were all good-looking. It was easy to spot a hookup spot. 

He'd follow them to back allies, locked rooms, and one-stall bathrooms, places where the music was still loud enough that his mind wouldn't wander. Where he could hold his beer by the neck and have someone kissing him as soon as they were in their own dark corner. People, maybe he sold drugs to earlier that night, people who thought he was older than sixteen, seventeen... eighteen. On nights like this, he couldn't even remember if this was perverted or not, he didn't even know how old he was anymore. His brain ground every night since he was fifteen together. Back when he thought allies and private rooms meant romance and that these guys would talk to him again afterward. 

Give up the ghost, turn around, get on your hands and knees–they never talked to him again after that. 

He let the background music that he hated so much fold into his brain–stop his thoughts. His half-finished beer sitting on the dirty floor as some guy indulged in his flesh. Lifting up shirts and pulling down collars, but never fully undressing. 

They all just wanted the same thing anyways, but Eddie always indulged longer than he needed. Kissing them and biting lips until they turned him around or pressed him to his knees. And then his face would be cold against tiles and his body would be all fire, getting sweaty in his too-large jacket and flannel. Choking out sounds and half words, hoping his mind would stay clear enough that he wouldn't pass out from his high. Sometimes he even got to do the choking, and that was rare. Sometimes he'd get to do this more than once in a night. He always felt sloppy the second time around. 

Men would press up against him, wash him away, sail him to somewhere farther than this bar an hour outside Hawkins, somewhere that he knew even his band wouldn't give him a concerned eyebrow raise when he disappeared into the dark shadows. Men would fall over him, hold him tight around his chest, and breathe life into his neck like he mattered to them. Sometimes they'd call him beautiful, or hot and he'd swallow that too. They always complimented him when he swallowed. 

They'd rock the bar from their private room that reeked of beer that stained his knees. And sometimes it would hurt, but he always left feeling grateful and like a part of him was taken away with the man who walked out the door when they were done. Warm and sweaty and full of more than just beer. He loved it and hated it, and tonight he hated it. The way men squealed and the smell of the bathrooms, how he'd read the graffiti on this wall a million times to no satisfaction. It was good, don't doubt that it was good, but the bitter taste of his mouth made him wish that he'd at least be kissed afterward.

Hold me, enfold me, talk to me like I'm someone. 

Then he'd slouch and the music would take him away, his body punched from the gut downwards, indecent as he stood pressed against the wall. Hard breathing, no longer hard cock. Breathe and breathe and listen to the thanks, shake his head no if they asked if he needed something. He'd adjust and pick his beer back up, wash the taste away with more bitterness. They'd break even and he'd stand the rest of the night because it hurt too much to sit. 

He wouldn't check if whoever he came here with came back, he'd just crawl into the van when he'd had enough. They'd knock if they needed to come in and sleep, and only once had he accidentally interrupted something. And then he'd sleep and the next morning they'd all be smiles and groans from being hungover; ask without asking how each of their nights went. No one partied as hard as Eddie Munson, and sometimes Eddie wouldn't even be able to drive them home, someone else at the wheel. Papers with numbers scrawled on them. Arms with new ink, lovely girls who twisted their hair and who got on their knees. 

Eddie's souvenirs were the ones of purple and red marks. Scars on his brain that left him wondering if he'd make it home next time at all. 

Smile and crack and let everyone think he always loved these outings, always loved the way his friends disappeared into dark corners for their own ends and leave him watching the dance floor like a statue of sin. Watch but don't touch. Want but don't love. Sing but unsung.

So when Steve Harrington came around and looked at Eddie with big brown eyes he hated it. He hated that he looked like every guy he had ever seen in every bar he had ever been in. How he was so goddamn handsome. Even when his upper lip wasn't perfectly shaved and you could see the speckled brown of hair on his cheek–what 'disheveled' looked like to Steve Harrington–king of Hawkins High, 6 feet deep in babes, money, and perfect hair. He hated guys like Steve who seemed to effortlessly move through life, who smiled and didn't start a fight when he threatened them. 

He hated guys like Steve Harrington and he didn't know if he wanted to be him and be with him. 

The effect a man like Steve Harrington had on people was toxic at best, and a high at worst. Because Eddie had never found a better drug than getting a crush. It drove him insane, it made him want more, and the comedown was the worst he ever felt, and yet... he'd always go back for more. The floundering, the trying to talk to a guy for real. It was everything he avoided when he went to bars and these stupid goddamn crushes made him want to try. He sounded like an idiot when he tried to talk to people… when he was genuine. And here was Steve Harrington, genuine to a fault who just spoke his mind, crossed his arms, and loved the people around him so hard that he'd sacrifice everything for them. Every ounce of popularity, every single dime, every last hair on his pretty head.

Eddie just wanted to be good enough to be one of those people he'd sacrifice for. 

No, that wasn't true, he didn't want to be any way. He didn't want to be different or to feel like 'he could change for the better, be a better person' for Steve Harrington. He wasn't that far gone, he was still Eddie Munson. But he wanted Steve to be worse. He wanted him to lower his standards and wallow in the mud with The Freak. He was already good enough... he wanted Steve to compromise. 

He had everything Eddie wanted and hated all at once and he wanted Steve to want to give it up. Was that too much to ask? It was too much to ask. And that was why crushes killed Eddie Munson. He knew, deep down, he was unpolished and undesirable and really the only reason the guys at the bars picked him up was because he was easy. Hard to love, easy to fuck. 

Kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss. All he wanted was for one of those to be with Steve. To taste what perfection looked like, to understand how someone who had everything gave it up for the outcasts and the freaks. 

Me too. Eddie yelled into the wind. Me too. He screamed at the void. 

But something amazing happened, something that no drug had ever given to him. It answered him. He heard. Somehow, somewhere, someway... Steve Harrington heard him and answered. 

And he wallowed. 

Eddie tasted perfection. The acidity of sunshine and the spice of daddy's money. How making out in cars and the squeak of leather seats had never felt so good. How Steve, somehow, wanted to know what mud and regret tasted like. That Steve chose him. 

Every pretty girl in Hawkins, and he chose Eddie. 

I love you, I love you, I love you. I need you, I need you, I need you. 

Addicted. 

The worst drug of your life. 

Eddie didn't even have to turn around to get it. He could look right at Steve the whole time, count the moles on his shoulders, and relish in how soft his skin was. He could enjoy the sensation of being on his back instead of his knees and if he wanted to know what Steve's sweat tasted like he could find out. He could see what a guy, fully naked, really looked like. No t-shirts, socks, or pants just unzipped enough to get it up. He could look, and man did he look. Even if this was a fling, even if this lasted until Steve found someone better, he could live with that. He could live with having him for just a few months just so he could experience this. 

Who was he kidding? He was addicted. 

Eddie Munson, island, wanted to strand Steve Harrington. He wanted to be the only thing and everything Steve could ever want or need. He needed to be everything because Steve had already taken every hard edge Eddie had stuffed into the box and pulled it loose. Rounded everything out. Soft. He was already going to fall apart if Steve walked away. He was already 80 percent less. 

But every morning he got to taste sunshine, and every afternoon he got to touch the sky. Steve was elevating him, and he didn't want to come down. It was devastating, and it was everything he had ever wanted. He was going to die to this. Steve owned him.

[urfavoritedcwhore]

the russian boy//part four

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, alcohol usage

lowercase intended

!reminder! boris’s first language is not English, so in some parts he’ll be speaking broken English. the writing “mistakes” in his dialect is intentional:)

part four: the sleepover (do or tell)

as we lay on the couch watching movies boris turns to me, "do you want drink?", he says gesturing to the vodka bottle outside. i mean im honestly still drunk but why not keep the party going. "if you're drinking i will.", i say with a shrug. he grins and goes outside to get the bottle. i guess tonight will be a blackout night, but i'm not worried. tomorrow's friday and if im too hungover ill just tell my teachers that im exhausted from the move so they're not suspicious. boris comes back inside with the vodka and plops down on the couch, closer than he was before. he take a swig from the bottle while looking straight at me. i smile and take the bottle from his hands when he pulls it away from his lips. it only has about 5 more shots in it, i guess we drank a fuck more than i thought we did. i bring the bottle to my lips and take about 2 shots, not wanting to drink it all. i pull the bottle back down from my mouth, before i can wipe my lips boris wipes them with his thumb. this man knows how to make my pussy throb, im tellin ya that. we both let out a small giggle and lean back into the couch. i place the bottle in the small space between us so that he can access it easily when he wants more. after about 5 seconds of silence, he speaks up. "you want to play game? could be fun.", he says turning towards me. what kinda game does this kid have in mind? fuck i hope it's not some weird strip game or something, not saying i wouldn't play, the problem is i need to be his friend before i have sex with him. i like this dude, maybe actually like like him. is that crazy? i only met him today, and maybe it's the liquor talking but fuck, i feel like we just kinda connected. it's a stupid crush that i don't want to have. i don't want to get too comfortable here, and i don't want to have a one night stand with my new friend. i speak up, "what kind of game?", i say raising my eyebrow suspiciously and looking at him. he smiles, "potter taught it to me, i think is called tell or do? is like when you pick "tell", you have to tell me something i ask, or if you pick "do" you have to do something i say.", he says trying his best to explain. "and if you don't want to tell or do what the other person picks, you have to drink.", he continues pointing to the bottle between us. this boy means truth or dare. you know what, i'm not gonna correct him i'll let him have this one. i'm honestly a little scared the game might get out of hand, but fuck it. if it gets out of hand oh well. it might not be ideal to do shit with this man, but the way he looks right now, i know i wouldn't be able to deny it. if the dare is "have sex with me", then i can just drink, easy peasy. "alright,", i say giggling, "i think i get the rules. i'll play.". boris smiles a happy smile and gets up, he walks over the the freezer and reveals three more bottles of liquor. oh shit. he takes one that looks like it's maybe whiskey and walks over to me. "we probably won't finish bottle tonight, we would get too sick, but we use for the game?", he asks waving it with a smirk.

ok ok good he's not expecting us to drink all that booze, for a second i thought i was gonna have to chicken out and tell him i couldn't. "perfect.", i say with a smile grabbing the bottle from his hand. i put it down on the couch, and pick back up the bottle of vodka laying on the couch. i take another quick shot and look at boris, who's now sitting beside me again. he opens his mouth and tilts his head back. i laugh and poor two shots in his open mouth. he tilts his head back up and swallows before we both let out a laugh. i place the bottle beside the whiskey, and look at him. "so who's going first?", i ask. "do or tell?", he asks me with a smile. i guess im going first. i don't wanna be lame and say tell on the first question, so i choose do. "i'll pick do.", i say hoping he doesn't pick anything too outrageous for me to do. he smiles and stands up jogging to his school bag. before i can even ask what he's doing he's back on the couch and digging through the bag. he pulls out a sharpie and smirks, "draw on potters face.", he says like he thinks he's the smartest person in the world for coming up with this. i look at him a chuckle, "ok fine, but when he wakes up in the morning you have to say you did it, im not taking the blame.", i say still laughing. "yes, he will think is me anyways.", boris says handing me the marker. i get up and walk over to theo, who's now snoring and laying on his back. i hear boris giggling like a child on the couch behind me. i uncap the marker and draw a small tear drop under his eye, and a penis on the tip of his nose. theo doesn't flinch at all, boris was right, once theo's asleep he's not waking up till morning. i cap the marker and look at my work before going back to the couch. boris starts laughing so hard he looks purple. "HAHAHAH, THEO THE GANGSTER, YES?", he exclaims in between laughs. i look at theo again and start absolutely dying, i don't know if it's because im so drunk or because its so childish, but for some reason its just too fucking funny. our laughter dies down after a minute, and i wipe the small tear that escaped my eye, as boris does the same. "ok ok,", i say still catching my breath from laughing, "your turn, tell or do?", i ask him. he thinks about it for a second. "hmm i choose tell." , he said with a shrug. "lameeee!", i say back to him laughing. he nudges me with his elbow, "cmon what do i tell you?", he says smiling. honestly i don't know what to ask him.  i decide to go with the first question on my mind.

"is theo gay?", i whisper to him even though i know theo wouldn't wake up even if i was shouting at the top of my lungs. this makes him let out a throaty laugh and consider my question for a moment, "hmm theo likes both boys and girls, he told everyone last year. i mean i think everyone is a little gay, i can like men and women too, but i don't want my ass fucked.", he says nonchalantly. i almost choke on my own spit. good for theo and boris, no judgement from me, i had a girlfriend for a little while but things didn't work out. i guess all three of us swing both ways, i never would have guessed boris does, but hey the more you know. i smile, "i knew he was a little fruity, no one straight dresses that well!", i say remembering the cargo pants, vintage batman tshirt, and the studded belt theo wore today. boris laughs at this, "yea, potter will roam in thrift shops for hours looking for good clothes he can afford. i usually just wear whatever is clean in my closet, he gets so frustrated when i wear my sweater everywhere.", he says rolling his eyes and looking at theo. i let out a small giggle, " well personally, i think your sweater is very stylish.", i say rolling the sweaters sleeves up. he smiles at me and grabs the left sleeve of the sweater help me roll it up. after he gets the sleeve up he takes a swig of the vodka and hands it to me. i take a drink and set it back on the sofa. i  100% gonna have a hangover tomorrow. "tell or do?", he says wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "tell", i say without hesitation. "oh who's lame now?", he says with a smirk. "oh shut up!", i say slurring and giggling. he laughs, "okay okay, my question is..", he thinks for a moment, "are YOU gay?", he says pointing at me. i laugh at his exaggeration of the word "you". "yea, i mean i'm bi, i like boys and girls like you and theo do.", i tell him moving my hair out of my face. his mouth drops and i can tell that he didn't expect me to say yes. "wait so you have like..had girlfriend?", he asks confused, "cause i like both, but i have never had boyfriend before, just kissed a few boys.", he says with genuine curiosity. "yea i had a girlfriend for awhile, we dated for maybe..8 or 9 months? i can't remember.", i tell him trying to remember how long we dated. he must be as drunk as i am cause he blurts out, "did you have sex????", with the most genuine interest in his voice. "hey! this is tell or do not 20 questions. it's your turn, tell or do?", i say laughing at his question.

"fineee, i pick tell.", he says. "cmon dude are you ever gonna pick do?", i say smiling. "maybe, maybe not, we have to keep playing to figure out.", he says holding his hands up. we continue playing "tell or do", (which is basically just tell or drink now because we both keep choosing tell) until we're both slurring and laughing from all the whisky we've drank to avoid questions. it's my turn when my drunken brain makes my mouth say the first thing it thinks of. "how many people have you done the nasty with?", i say slurring with the whiskey bottle in my hand. usually i wouldn't even consider asking this but when im this drunk my mouth and brain have no filter. i realize what i said and jokingly shake the whiskey bottle at him, "tell or drinkkk.". he laughs, "keep the bottle i tell i tell, but you promise not to laugh?, he says looking at me. "i promise.", i say slurring and putting one hand over my heart. "ok so i sleep with one girl, and im pretty sure i didn't do it right. miała na imię Kailey i-", i cut him off. "english borisss", i say throwing a pillow lightly at him. i've realized the more he drinks the more russian or polish he talks without realizing it. "fuck sorry.", he says trying shaking his head. "her name was kailey, she was my girlfriend, but i'm pretty sure she didn't like because we only did once and a week later she break up with me.", he says explaining in his broken drunken english. "oh shit, that blows.", i say suprised that this sexy man may honestly not be good at fucking. i mean its gonna be pretty bad for a girl to leave him for the way he fucks. "no is okay, she was how do you say...ah whore, she was whore. she leave me to date older man like a year ago. maybe she leave because he has job and can buy her things?", he says like he genuinely doesn't care what the reason was. "well i'm sure you're a good fuck," i say trying to make him feel better, "i've heard russians are freaks in the sheets.", i whisper slurring with a laugh. this makes him chuckle, "ha! yes that is funny, have you slept with russian man before?", he says looking at me with a smirk. before i can realize what im saying i spit out, "no, not yet.", with a half joking flirtatious wink. his face turns red and his eyes grow. before he can say anything i laugh and take a swig of the whiskey, "i'm so fucking tired, i'm probably gonna pass out soon.", i say looking at my phone to realize it's 3:24am. "yea me too, do you want us to go up to bed or stay on couch?", he asks. aw fuck i teased him too hard he thinks something's gonna go down tonight. he notices the look on my face, "nothing weird, i promise, i just don't like sleeping alone and theo's not gonna wake up to sleep with me. is that weird?", he says reassuring me. "no it's not weird, i honestly hate sleeping alone too, i don't know why but i just sleep better with someone next to me.", i say truthfully. i'm guessing this need to not be alone stems somewhere from our mommy/daddy issues, but im not trying to explore that tonight. "okay, good. we can sleep in my room?", he asks pointing up stairs. "sure.", i say glad that im not gonna have to fall asleep on this tiny ass couch. we walk up stairs and into boris's room where we both fall on the bed too exhausted to even turn off the christmas lights on his wall. we're both on our own side of the bed, and just like he said it's nothing weird. he crawls under the blankets and then drapes them over me. "night new girl.", he says with a smile. "goodnight boris.", i say smiling back with a yawn. we fall asleep on our respective sides of the bed facing each other. fuck. this russian boy is too perfect, i mean can anyone blame me for having a crush?

[bottombatch]

The Withers Romancer 🤣

Yesss! So, this is not a serious fic. Like at all lmao. But I got this idea in my head and I couldn't shake it.

Imagine this around the end of Act 1, so they truly have no idea who Withers is yet: Durge, Shadowheart, and Astarion (pretentious gossipy elf club) start a dare/competition to see who can get a rise out of Withers first. They all take a shot or two at coming onto Withers only for him to be absolutely unaffected.

Eventually Astarion and Shadowheart give up on it, but Durge... Durge continues. She just wants to win the bet, of course. There's no other reason. She's definitely not weirdly enamored with the stupid way he talks or the way he calls her child...

It was a really funny bit that will probably never actually be finished lol. Below the cut is more or less everything I wrote because I'm certain this will never see the light of day otherwise.

"Does Withers even have emotions?" Tav mused, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. It wasn't very good; of such poor quality that it had been left on a cart raided by goblins. But alcohol was alcohol. She passed it to Shadowheart after a drink. "I doubt it." Astarion spoke, curling his lips. "The man is drier than your guys' sex lives." Shadowheart sputtered, coughing up wine as Astarion grinned wryly. Tav couldn't help the grin on her face, opting to hide it behind her hand. Despite this, she still felt the need to defend herself. "Don't be a dick just because you finally got some." Tav pointed accusingly. "You've fucked Wyll once and that was only after weeks of pining. You are no better than the rest of us." He waved the comment off, his shit eating grin only growing. "Once is still more than your zero. But maybe I'll go find Wyll and make it twice, just to spite you." Shadowheart scowled, peering into the glass. "Just take it away from camp this time, please. I'm not keen on hearing about big his 'blade' is again." "It's not my fault that it is very big." Shadowheart groaned heavily, handing Astarion the wine. "I don't care. Please shut up." "I bet he's a freak, though." Astarion laughed, raising the glass to his lips. He proceeded to tilt it high and higher, only to angrily toss it to the ground once he realized it was empty. Shadowheart snickered. "Wyll?" Tav asked with a furrowed brow. "Withers." He said, like it was a perfectly normal response. "It's always the normal ones." Shadowheart agreed, rummaging through a pack for more wine. "Does he even have the equipment for that?" All three of them turned to look at Withers. He was staring off into the far distance, still as a rock, even as Scratch circled him excitedly. "That's probably why he's into the really kinky stuff." Astarion concludes.

[lilyoffandoms]

Choices Open Heart - Tobias x Casey, Bryce x Olivia, and Ethan x Merida

For @choicesoctober from best friend prompt.

Warnings & A/N: Alcohol mention (tipsy characters). Thanks for the idea last night Elsa hehe (I took notes lol). Casey belongs to @jerzwriter and Olivia belongs to @storyofmychoices.

“Okay okay what about that one?” Merida subtly pointed out a middle aged woman in a skintight blue dress.

They all considered her for a while as she talked animatedly to anyone that came within range of her.

“Bryce,” Casey and Merida said in unison.

“He’d be the only one able to handle her…, I don’t know,” Merida waved her hand.

“Clinging? Neediness?”

“Agreed,” Olivia nodded and giggled as both women turned their attention to her taking the seat beside them.

“You made it!” Merida squeezed her hand with a grin and flagged down the bartender and ordered them all a round.

“I had to say hello to Bryce real quick.”

Casey gave Olivia a quick hug and then passed out the drinks the bartender slid onto the polished bar for them.

“But we know you can’t stay away from us for too long,” Casey teased.

“Well yes,” Olivia giggled, “that and Bryce was trapped in a conversation I really didn’t want to be sucked into so….”

The other two laughed and raised their glasses together.

“Cheers to tonight and letting our partners fend for themselves,” Merida smirked.

“Now that one,” Olivia nodded with a grin to a man sidling up to the bar a few bar stools down from them.

They watched as the man ordered the most pretentious cocktail.

“Ethan,” they all agreed.

“Though he’d probably argue there is a better one out there,” Casey countered.

“So Tobias? Though he would probably just tease the poor man about how pretentious that drink order was.”

“Yeah, Ethan,” Merida confirmed. “He’d order one that was even more pretentious just to one up the guy.”

The game went on and on. Drink after drink. Plate after plate of appetizers. And much laughter.

“How about that one?” Casey pointed out a woman who had drunkenly draped herself across the piano to flirt with the musician.

“What are you gorgeous ladies up to?” Tobias saunter up behind Casey and kissed her forehead as she looked up to smile at him innocently.

“Catching up,” Olivia said.

“Having some fun people watching,” Merida said.

“Deciding who we’d pair you boys up with around here,” Casey smirked.

“Nice,” he grinned. “Who are we focusing on right now?”

They all pointed not at all subtly in the drunk woman’s direction.

“I think she needs to meet Ethan,” Tobias smirked and with a rather deep and lingering kiss with Casey went over to the woman.

The ladies watched as he greeted her.

“Is he?” Olivia said in shock.

Tobias led her across the room until they were standing in front of Ethan.

“Oh my god! He is. This is the best thing to happen all night!” Merida giggled and leaned back in her seat with her drink in hand to watch it play out.

“Did you expect anything less?” Casey smiled into her drink.

They lost it when Ethan paled and the woman looped her arms through Ethan’s and leaned heavily against him and Tobias patted Ethan’s arm with a wicked smirk and some teasing comment and walked back toward the three friends.

Merida called the bartender back and ordered a drink which she handed to Tobias upon his return.

“For my hero,” she said and clinked her drink to his.

“Bryce next!” Olivia clapped her hands together, her face flushed with the warmth of the room and a few drinks.

“Have I mentioned that tipsy Olivia is a ton of fun?” Casey beamed at Tobias.

“You have not but I got to start spending more time with you three,” he said between swigs of his drink before turning to Olivia.

“Liv, my dear, who shall it be?”

——————————

Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma

Other Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations

[dxwnfxll]

hello🙏 im here once again asking for kondraki with a s/o that takes care of him like draven does so the poor kid can enjoy some time for himself and slowly kondraki falls in love with them

OFC!! Luv the butterfly man here

Warning!! Drunk mention, swearing, and a lil angsty

Dr. Kondraki with an S/o that takes care of him <33

-you and Konny met funnily enough in the break room, you were grabbing some coffee at the same time as him.

-as you two bumped into each other he striked up a friendly conversation, back then he had seemed so much better.

-he had a wife and a lil baby named Draven, and his job didn't even seem to affect him that much..but then his life seemed to start coming apart.

-His wife had left him and now he was stuck raising Draven by himself, you watched as he threw himself into his work..endless and sleepless nights of him working with booze bottles littered around his desk

-you felt the need to help him, in some way..

-so you started throwing yourself into helping him, sometimes ignoring your work just to do his so it wasn't so much on him

-there would be nights where you'd drag him to his dorm all while he reeked of booze and only spoke in slurred words

-some days he wouldn't come to work, you'd have to go and look for him..just to find him crying in his bed holding himself wracked with guilt because he yelled at Draven

-Draven always tried to help, but you'd always shoo the poor boy away..he was only a kid what could he do?

-Soon enough you saw yourself bringing Konny groceries and even making him dinners. You had been at his place for so often Draven began to see you as the only parental figure he had..besides Kondraki but he was to busy being drunk

-One night as you came to their apartment you could already tell Draven wasn't home, he probably had left to stay with Talloran for the night. But the silence seemed to scare you for a moment.

-you quickly set your stuff down and barged into Konnys room, there he sat crying..it was one of those nights. The entire room reaked of Alcohol and the bottles were laying around him. One of them leaking onto the floor from his bed.

-you sighed walking over to him and held him, he immediately clung to you. His arms wrapping around you in a strong embrace "please..don't..don't let go" his slurred words spoke. His hand in your hair (if you have any)

-you held him rocking him back and forth as he sobbed "Draven fucking hates me.." He spoke as you shushed him "no..he doesn't hate you Konny, He's just..worried maybe even disappointed.."

-Kondraki scoffed "a kid disappointed in his own father.." You held him close "Konny..it's okay i'm here.." He looked at you, his green eyes boring into your e/c ones.

-"just..just please don't leave me..please don't be like Alice..please just don't fucking leave.." He clings onto you tighter "i..i fucking love you.." His voice still slurred as his eyes began to get heavy

-you didn't even know what to say, but you helped him lie down "i'm..i won't go anywhere Konny..i promise" you rubbed his chest a bit trying to comforting him "i'll be here when you wake up.."

-and so he drifted off to sleep as you sat on the side of his bed, your thoughts plagued by his words.. You couldn't help but smile at him and lean in to kiss his cheek "i love you too"

Hope you enjoyed!! Requests are always open <33

[kobblefort]

Blackfaint: Origins 2

I feel that this entire song is emblematic of rat world, but the "conversation" part at 2:49 is most important for our purposes of understanding it. This is how I imagine all of the rats speak to each other and the kind of things that they speak to each other about. "Well not really because I fucking had to buy beer" "That's fucked up man" is the kind of thing they are all saying to each other with that exact cadence. I think the lyric "Raise your hand if the system has missed you, man" also applies to rat world because the system has quite literally missed us - we can't create military squads or appoint administrators because the warlord needs to at least appoint a caravan leader for us to get the Nobles & Administrators screen back and I don't think she gives a fuck - it's still Vakeek Malignreasons last I checked and yeah she's a little busy seeking that artifact and doing other dubious necromancer activities. But it's okay, we're just treating this like a challenge run. Rat world is kind of like how I live because there is no structure to my life and I have never held a single job for more than three months in a row. And I try not to drink alcohol anymore but sometimes I still do and I just immediately start scrolling through my contacts looking for people to flirt with, harangue about Media we both like, or ramble at about some story I'll never actually write (usually all 3 at once) I only have an apartment by literally an act of god extending divine mercy directly to me and it's a fucking mess where I eat the $1 for an 8-pack hot dogs from Aldi cut in half to make them lie flat on sandwich bread with just diced onions and seasoned salt. "You take what you get in rat world" is one of the things we say in rat world, besides "Fuck it!!" lol, thats the main thing we say in rat world but yeah there are other things we say in rat world basically.

There's only two and a half more Z-levels we have to grate up before the aquifer drain is complete and we never have to think about it again. Considering there's 11 levels from the aquifer to the drain that means out of the 176 grates we needed to make there are only 40 left.

This farmers' guildhall I'm making just to have it out of the way when it inevitably becomes necessary kind of looks like a buttplug. Oops almost out of food and drinks again :\ rat worlddddd

A problem is quickly becoming apparent: rats get upset over not wearing shoes, but rats can't actually make shoes. I'm not sure we will ever actually get a caravan from The Nightmare of Tunneling, much less any other merchants, and without being able to actually assign any squadrons, sending them out on missions to retrieve them from any poor settlement that catches my eye won't be possible either. Keeping seed stocks up is another problem, and since I'm running the mod that fully forbids the eating of plump helmets, we can't rely on the plentiful stock of those from the caverns. It's sort of just a race away from the bottom right now, constantly scurrying out to grab handfuls of boar tails and cave wheat and cook them up just to watch them scarfed down. I am, however, deeply enjoying the fucked up layout of this fortress so far. Maybe when we get 50 rats they will be able to elect a mayor and thus start having administrators? It's entirely possible we see the end of this fort without ever being able to use some absolutely critical features of the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress. But nobody said rat world would be easy.

As a matter of fact it has just been confirmed that rat world is easy. The dwarves have come to wreak vengeance upon us!! And it's like what did we even do!? Sure we're part of a civilization known for havoc and pillaging and violence but none of us did anything! I literally went and checked! The only one who did anything is Ikeek Hatredeel.

And she never even killed a dwarf, just a kobble! Come on! Whatever you're mad about it probably wasn't us!!

The best we can do right now is breaking down the stairway and setting up hatch covers to bar shut just above the bedroom level, which is above the main floor. The dwarves don't seen to even notice the entrance to our little hamlet, at least, which is good. It's just as well, what business do we have up on the surface? All the plants are dead and what little we left in the wagon was just a few sheets and crutches. (I am notoriously bad at remembering to break down my wagon because I hate "all-purpose" stockpiles and only designate piles as they're needed, but I don't want my kobbles/dorfs/rats to leave stuff on the ground, so I usually just leave it there for like... a year at least.)

They just keep dancing around a dead tree. There's really no reason we can't wait them out, but then again, if a forgotten beast comes wandering in through the caverns, we'll be kind of fucked. But that's rat world dude. The thing about rat world is sometimes you're just helplessly scurrying around looking for plants to cook into the saddest little biscuits ever while some dwarfs come trying to maim you for no fucking reason. They've got a lot of silver weaponry, which makes sense because we are monsters, and the one with the steel crossbow could cause some real problems.

Giant monkeys appear, which is almost always cause for celebration, but ESPECIALLY now. They're not doing so great against the dwarves though.

We got some tablesss

Me too

The only way any food gets put on the table in rat world is by everyone scampering out to the caves every few minutes to grab more of whatever they can find growing wild on the floor, which has to be arranged manually. Then I manually have to go over to the kitchen and put "prepare easy meal" on repeat until it runs out, which is usually 30 seconds and 5~15 food units after I press it. If you'll permit me to be honest right now rat world is just really not feeling that sustainable. I'm not going to say like oh I give up and just let the dorfs come kill us all or whatever but you know sometimes rat world just actually sucks.

Speaking of shit that just sucks, I feel like the rodent men should be chill with us, but well...

They're not. Luckily, we're fucking fast in rat world, and as long as we keep the numbers right, stronger than them too. We can't just bar off the cavern since then we'd starve, so the only real option is just... every rat for themself.

But the truth is that rats together are strong. Do you not understand this, rodent people??

oh wait, this might be bad... Yeah we got nothing on steel weapons actually.

It'ikik ghoulscar, who was described as someone who was "made deeply uncomfortable by differences in culture or appearance," does not survive a stab to the brain. What should I not say he was racist?? Ohh his body's still warm you can't say he's racist!!! Well he was a racist is the thing. I don't think he'd even object to be called that. I don't know though because most people who'll admit they're racist are a lot less racist than people who vehemently refuse the idea that they could ever be racist. A guy who says "yeah i'm racist" is probably going to catch himself letting media/institutional/just stupid shit he thought when he was a kid bias cloud his judgment, but a guy who says "You're Calling Me RACIST??? That's Like Calling Me The N Word!!" has completely internalized whatever "FBI Crime Stats" are on HTTP colon slash slash BootSuckerNews.Cuck without even knowing what the words "materialist political theory" mean when you string them all together like that. Like I'm just going to say it I trust a guy who listens to Cum Town to actually not be evil when it counts a lot more than a guy who thought Million Dollar Extreme World Peace was a good show. Oh and for the fucking record I actually was a huge fucking MDE fan when they were new, I'm talking about the 00s when I was a teenager and they beat Tim & Eric to market with the "insane editing" game and did it way better. Shit like Malbone Trucking and Extreme BassFX were and are genuinely still funny, I don't care man, but the TED talk was basically the end of an era, all the shit that came afterward where Sam Hyde just records himself yelling into a mirror is absolutely fucking insufferable, and the fact that when they finally got their shot at TV after that they just made a fucking crappy sketch comedy show where all the jokes are edgy teenager trying to get in trouble bullshit instead of utilizing any of their previously many strengths is the biggest fucking let-down in the world, Sam Hyde let his ego blow up like a fucking car bomb and was helped along to do so by post-Stormfront invasion 4channers, 90% of whom just thought he was crazy and that it was funny to see a crazy guy yell into a mirror and record it with a cell phone, I will never not be so disappointed that it gives me a fucking ulcer about what could have been, sometimes I go back and watch College Cunts and it's almost hard to enjoy because it's like wow this is where it ended - this glimmer right here is the last diamond before they started just shitting. Oh god, what we lost. What did we lose again? Oh shit, yeah, the game. We're down to 18 rats.

Kikeek Menacebreeds takes one down. Nice, good shit.

The last remaining rodent person earned the name Nightsea from the fracas, and just starts camping one last area. He seems to stop being hostile and just lets everyone pass him as they run around the caverns freely. Maybe he'll make a good bulwark against the first forgotten beast we have to deal with, I don't know. For now he's just an annoyance. Youve got to take the Ws you can get in rat world that's one thing for sure. As an anarchist it annoys me that the game requires a strict military hierarchy in order for citizens to start arming themselves and training but I guess we can start putting down some traps. But first, you know, five rats need to get buried real quick before they start haunting this bitch. Also, a while ago a "Glassmaker" went into a strange mood and has just been standing in the door of their bedroom - Been there dude!! I have no idea what to do about that, I'm not bothering with glass here, they refuse to claim any kind of workshop so I guess I'll have to just let them do their thing and eventually weather whatever kind of tantrum they're going to have.

In the worst moods now are Eeteek Terrorslip, K'keek Attackdemons, and Vatekeek Learnedmaligns. Eeteek in particular has just really been upset over not owning any shoes. Embarrassed about it, angry about it, sad about it. Like I'm sorry. I would love to do something about it. But, well, I can't!! Maybe - and this is a big fucking maybe - we'll be able to make leather out of the rodent people and then maybe we'll be able to make shoes or at least boots out of their leather, but I'm not optimistic about it!!!

Oh that was fast. See Eeteek there's a guy you could learn from, she doesn't mind having no shoes. She doesn't mind having no clothes at all!! She's just fully embraced the mania in this bitch!!

Burial time, lol. Oh and despite the advent of some giant ibexes, a giant tick, and other random terrifying creatures, all 10 dwarves up on the surface are completely unbothered. Siege is going great for them. Ass holes

The "natural mist generator" is really not good enough to offset all the miserable violence, ratfolk don't particularly care for natural beauty anyway.

Kikiteek Jackalgranite suddenly has 11 fucking children, all of whom are good to go and get straight to work the second they're born. Dude what the fuck is even going on in rat world.

After setting up some cage traps around the cavern entrance (sorry, I know they're OP, but I need them for this fort lol) everyone cleans up the blood on the main floor and starts partying. Uhh except R'eekeek. R'eekeek dies.

It's still not really feasible to actually open the doors back up yet, but the tavern has been officially "opened to the public." I'd also like to start building a library but I don't know if this is the fort for it. Ratfolk library seems like a great way to get some necromancers on deck and well, necromancers are always a rare treat.

I'd really like the dorfs to fucking leave already too. There's actually some live prickle berries and red spinach on the east part of the map, but of course these Ass Hole's are just camping out here keeping us from prosperity. I cannot imagine that any rat still enjoys cave tubers but that's all we got.

After ages they finally fucking leave and we can go scoop up the goodies. Spinach and prickleberries baby!!! Sounds awful actually but when all you've eaten for like 9 months is the same thing it must taste awesome.

If it's not one thing it's always just another.

Our carpenter is caught out during the attack, but she's fucking fast. Every time she sees one of the rodent people she just dips the fuck out of there across the entire map, then goes back to just wandering around. We barred her in there, but we'll eventually have to do something... There's twelve rodent people running free, three in cages, and Srekitdret running around randomly like he's our fucking mascot or something.

She actually manages to do some serious damage, but she has other things on her mind, and would just really prefer not to fight I guess. The fact that there's a thing called "Holy Ape of The Faith of Tribes" sounds really interesting to me, I'll have to learn more about that. If we survive. Or actually if we die it'll be a good excuse to hop back into legends mode. So either one is fine by me!!!!! Fuck it!!!! Lol I hit the 30 image limit I'll probably update again tomorrow

[ocean-blue-whump]

Night Out

Shorter update, but building up to something bigger!

Heist Team Masterlist

Tagging @painful-pooch @winedark-whump @justplainwhump @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight - let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: alcohol, drugging + kidnapping

***

Scipio turns his head, nodding to acknowledge the woman who just sat down next to him at the bar. “Oh, they got you too?”

Ace shoots him a glare as she shows the bartender her license and orders a drink. “I hate your accent,” she grumbles, playing with a piece of her hair. 

Scipio laughs and downs the rest of his beer. “Awh. Still young enough that the bartender asks for your ID. So I have to ask, who pushed you over the edge?” For the past week, Penn has been keeping all seven members of the team cooped up in an apartment while he and Jude went over building diagrams and other things. Seven people, seven strangers in one apartment… “It was Penn for me,” Scipio says. “He obviously doesn’t think very highly of me. I don’t really know why, but…”

“Fuckin’ Markham snores.” Ace takes her martini from the bartender and turns to face Scipio. “Since he and I are sharing the couch, I haven’t slept well all week. And do you think there’s something off with Hollis?”

Scipio frowns and orders another beer. “What do you mean?”

Ace shrugs, taking a small sip of her drink. “Well, you’re in a room with him so you’d know better than me. He just seems off.”

Scipio’s been holed up in a room with Darien and Hollis for the week. Penn and Jude have the other bedroom. “Yeah. To be fair, all us fuckers are a little off, no? Darien is bloody terrified of Penn. Jude also seems to not be a fan of yours truly, which obviously means she has poor taste.”

“You think…very highly of yourself.” Ace smirks and leans forward, her black hair spilling across her shoulders. She’s pretty, Scipio can’t deny that, but she’s definitely not Scipio’s type. She’s got an air to her, like she’s good and she knows it, like she came from money. She keeps her back perfectly straight while she sips at her martini. “You know what? Fuck it.” She raises her glass towards him, a smile on her face. “Let’s get drunk and let’s make some bad, bad decisions together.”

Scipio takes his beer from the bartender and gently clinks his stein against her stem glass. “Cheers, love.” 

***

As it turns out, Ace can drink him under the table. They both stumble out onto the street, Ace laughing. Scipio groans and holds his head, his mouth sour with the taste of beer. “Ace, babe, you didn’t tell me…” He leans over, stumbling across the pavement. “You didn’t tell me you could hold your liquor.”

She laughs again and turns her head to the sky, shrugging on her sports jacket and a pair of leather gloves. “Don’t be such a bitch, Scipio.” 

Scipio flops down on the curb, taking a deep breath. “Oh, love, I’ve no idea where we are right now.” 

“Eh, they’re not gonna miss us much.” Ace sits down next to him. “It’s the Penn and Jude show over there. Probably still holed up in their room planning shit without us. You know, I could have done a job this week. Could have made some money.”

“Like you need it,” Scipio mumbles. He’s not completely trashed, but his filter is gone. 

Ace opens her mouth to respond, but out of nowhere, a huge, muscular man dressed in all black and wearing a hood runs up behind her. He yanks her up off the curb, easily holding the drunk woman in place while he holds a cloth to her mouth. 

Scipio doesn’t stick around to watch Ace fight. He pulls himself to his feet, staggering around before taking off in an unsteady run. 

He doesn’t make it far. The man is on him in no time, grabbing him from behind and lifting his legs clean off the ground. 

Scipio tries to fight it, tries to squirm around in his drunken state, but it’s no use. The cloth is pressed and held firm against his mouth and he has no choice other than to pass out in the man’s arms. 

[luminousnarrator]

Nowhere To Go

Spike runs into a very drunk, very desperate hunter.

Spike was used to the dim lights that illuminated the bars he went to. He was used to the dark figures lurking in the corners. Preying on other customers, looking for trouble and itching for a fight, sometimes waiting, sometimes trying to forget their troubles by getting blackout drunk. He was used to demons, vampires, even the occasional human straying into the underground clubs. And he wished he could say seeing a hunter around wasn't a normal occurrence.   

Even more, he wished that for once in his life he would be smart and just stay the hell away.  

The tall man at the corner table had been nursing a whiskey bottle for the last hour or so. It was almost empty. In the whole time he'd been here, he hadn't looked up Even once, holding his head bowed, strands of long-ish hair falling into his face and covering his eyes. Spike could tell that he was properly sloshed as it was, and would probably not pose a deadly threat even if it came to a fight. Still, the guy was huge, definitely trained as a hunter, and would not be easy to take down. And who was Spike to turn down a challenge? He hadn’t had a good brawl for quite a while.  

The vampire emptied his glass, then slinked over to the tall guy’s table.  

He plopped down in a chair, his back turned to the room, facing the hunter. The hunter lifted his head, frowning at Spike, who was now sprawled in the chair, a shit eating grin on his face.  

“You looked like you needed some company mate,” he said.  

The hunter simply grunted and looked away again.  

Spike scoffed. “So what? You too good to talk to a vampire? Is that it?”  

Again, the hunter looked up more calculating this time. Spike rolled his eyes.  

“Now, don't act like you don't know what kind of establishment you're in. You're a hunter. I can smell that three miles away. The question is, what are you doing in a place like this?”  

The hunter set down his bottle and looked more closely at the vampire in front of him, examining him. “I'm looking for someone.”  

His voice was raspy, as though his throat was sore. Which, considering the amount of alcohol he’d just downed, wasn't that unlikely.  

“Well, as long as that someone is not me,” Spike said, “I might just be able to help you out.”  

The hunter eyed him warily. “I'm looking for a demon. A crossroads demon.”  

Spike laughed. “Well, there's a thing you don't hear every day.”  

“It’s important,” the hunter insisted. “There’s a deal I need to undo.”  

The vampire shrugged. “Didn’t hear anything about a crossroads demon.” He looked sly. “Though I might know some people in deeper circles who might know one thing or the other.”  

The hunter raised his eyebrows. He sounded sort of defeated. “I'm taking that as you're not one of the ‘guys in deeper circles’. What, you not interested in the big fish? You pretending to be a good guy because you only kill when you need to?” He snorted.  

Spike laughed. “Coming from the guy hanging out here with us?”  

“Who knows something?”  

“Cutting to the chase right away, eh?” Spike crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “What am I getting out of it?”  

The hunter’s eyes darkened. “Your head stays on for now.”  

Spike chuckled. “Well, see, as tempting as that is, you can’t ask me for information when I’m dust, so there’s that.”  

“You’ll wish you’d talked.”  

Spike didn’t think the threat was empty, but he also didn’t peg the guy as the kind to overestimate himself. He knew he was drunk. And he also seemed a little bit desperate. Desperate was good. Desperate Spike could work with.  

“What, goody good guy torturing some poor sod because he asked for payment?”    

“Who's to say I'm good?”  

Spike smirked. “Well, you're clearly human. And a hunter at that.”  

“And you know what hunters do?” He slammed down his hand on the table, and spike flinched slightly, followed by a grin spreading on his face as the hunter grabbed him by his lapels. “We kill monsters like you. So, you better give me all the information I need.”  

Spike stuck out his tongue and snickered. “See, knew you had it in you.”  

A fist struck him in the face, and Spike laughed.  

Three more punches hit him, before he caught the hunter’s wrist. He darted out his tongue and licked at his blood-stained lip.  

“As fun as this is,” he said with a grin, “We should probably take it out back. ‘less we want to stir up the peace around here.”  

The hunter hesitated and Spike knew that flash of consideration. That should I or should I not? That wanting it, that needing the fight. But not being sure whether you wanted to give in to the temptation. Spike had seen that hesitation a lot. Whenever he’d started a fight, he’d seen it. The short moment where you could decide to be a good person and walk away.  

He’d seen it with Buffy, before he got his soul. Every time they’d been about to fuck, he’d seen it. And every time he’d encouraged the wrong decision.  

Even with a soul, he wasn’t one to just let people make the right decision. So, he pushed the hunter off him, and swung at him in turn.  

The tall man spun into the wall, and Spike felt powerful. He grabbed him by the shoulder and stirred him toward the back exit, and, not surprisingly, the hunter wasn’t protesting.  

The cool night air mixed with the buzz of alcohol and Spike was exhilarated. He shoved the hunter forward enough to make him stumble a few steps, then waited for him to turn around. He left him the first move.  

The hunter launched at him, staggering, still, from the booze and the blow to the face, his movements uncontrolled, but no less powerful. He landed a few good punches, before Spike managed to duck away and send a fist into his ribs.  

The hunter doubled over and wheezed, but before Spike could deliver a second blow, the hunter grabbed him and threw him into the close wall of the club.  

Spike might have superhuman strength, but that didn’t mean he was superhumanly heavy. And the hunter was huge. He had a good 8 inches on him, and he was built. This was ought to be fun.  

Spike pushed himself off the wall, and advanced on the hunter, who went back to fighting stance, chest heaving.  

Hot, Spike thought, before he threw a kick at the hunter’s midsection. The hunter blocked it, and Spike took a fast step forward to get in punching range. He threw a blow at the hunter’s face, which he blocked with his shoulder, and retaliated by grabbing him and clocking him in the face with his elbow. Once, twice, again and again. Spike ducked, grabbed him in turn, tightened his stance and threw him over his shoulder.  

He could see the air leave the hunter’s lungs as he wheezed on the ground, trying to sit up. He didn’t seem dizzy in the least. Good, Spike thought, the bugger knows how to tuck his head. And he was on him within a second, throwing punches, that turned the hunter’s head to the side, but never caused it to hit the ground.  

He saw blood on his hands, and laughed, scrambling off the hunter. He stood over him, and the hunter lay groaning on the ground. Spike licked at his bloody knuckles and the hunter looked at him in disgust. Spike thought he caught some intrigue in his eyes as well. “You’re sick.”  

Spike shrugged. “Vampire.”  

He offered the hunter his other hand, and the man grabbed it, then let himself fall backwards, bringing his feet up under Spike and throwing him over.  

The hunter got up just as quickly as Spike did, and they were facing off again. Circling each other slowly, Spike had a wide grin on his face, and the hunter at least didn’t look all gloomy anymore.  

Spike lunged forward first, and they started trading blows. Their reaction time was on par, and the hunter’s height made up for Spike’s strength and after both of them had landed a few sloppy hits, they started to figure each other out. What had been a brawl turned into almost a dance. A violent, brutal, bloody dance. But it was beautiful in its own way.  

Almost all punches were blocked, all kicks evaded, and they just kept going and kept going. Spike was sure his arms would have bruises all over tomorrow. He hoped they would. He didn’t get enough fights, and especially not ones with an equally matched fighter. Not since Buffy.  

Looking at his dance partner, Spike thought he was seeing the same emotion in his eyes. And he grinned and redoubled his strength. There was no time for brooding. Now they were fighting. Now they were dancing. And that was all that mattered.  

Spike broke the rhythm they’d come into, and Sam moved with him. Stronger, faster, harder. Stronger, faster, harder!  

As they sped up, their brains started to struggle to keep up with their movements. Their reaction times started to be too slow. Spike relished in the hard fist that struck his jaw. He loved the tiny grunts that his opponent let out whenever he got him on the eye socket. He loved the steadily building pain everywhere in his body.  

And he felt so alive for the first time in an eternity.  

A blow to his cheek made his head snap to the side. He traded that for a backhanded punch against the hunter’s nose. He gripped at his face for a second, then came back with even more determination.  

He landed several hard punches to Spike’s sternum, then brought up a hand and gripped Spike in a tight chokehold. He slammed him up against a wall, his feet dangling in the air. And Spike cackled, as much as he could with the strong hand gripping his throat.  

“Alright you win,” he said, and the hunter punched him in the face again. Spike’s head cracked back against the wall.  

“Who knows something about the demon,” he spat and Spike’s grin grew.  

“Do that again,” Spike said, and sure enough pain bloomed in his nose and his head cracked against the wall once more. He groaned in pain, then the groan turned into a chuckle. “I don’t know,” he said.  

The hunter’s hand closed around his throat tightly. “Liar,” he growled dangerously, his voice shaking just a bit with desperation and helplessness.  

“I don’t know,” Spike croaked out, and the hunter’s free hand fisted his hair and slammed his head back against the wall harshly.  

“Tell me, or I’ll crack your fucking skull.”  

Spike grinned widely, his throat too constrained to laugh. “That’s my boy.”  

And the hunter slammed his head into the wall once more time, then let go of his and Spike sagged to the ground, his laughter echoing back from the alley walls. The hunter crouched down before him.  

“Who,” he repeated.  

Spike brought up his hand to his throat and kept wheezing out a laugh.  

The hunter backhanded him across the face, roughly, then grabbed his lapels. “You got what you wanted, now tell me,” he yelled.  

Spike finally gave in. “If anyone knows anything about hell’s demons, it’s D’Hoffryn. He’s this sort of evil demon king, yeah? Doesn’t necessarily hang out with hell demons much, but he has access to other dimensions.”  

The hunter nodded, then slammed him against the wall one more time before he let him go.  

Spike watched him get up and turn away. “So, you’re not even giving me a ‘thank you’ then,” he called after him.  

The hunter turned back and glowered at him. “You got what you deserve.” And he turned again and walked into the night.  

Spike groaned and slowly staggered to his feet. Everything hurt. He smiled. Sure enough, he thought, he did get what he was looking for.  

[loves0phelia]

frank castle x nurse!gf fluff xx

Midnight Visitor

Summery: the request.

Words: 1k

Warnings: implied smut at the end, injuries, grammar mistakes

A/N: Thank you I loved writing this one.

Your cat was purring in your lap as you stroked her on your couch while watching a movie during your first night off of the entire month. You knew being a nurse wouldn't be easy, you knew you had to prepare mentally every time you went in. But when you got your rare nights off it felt like heaven.

You barely heard the knock that came from your window over the sound of your TV. Some people would scold you about it being bad for your ears. 

You did hear when the person on the other side tried pulling up your window but failed as it was locked.

With a sigh, you picked up your kitten and placed her beside you on the couch. After earning a hiss of discomfort,  you stood up letting the blanket that was draped over you fall on the cold hardwood floor.

Tiredly you opened the curtains with no hesitation since you already knew who was on the other side. Frank was crouched on your fire escape looking desperate to get in as blood gushed out of his forehead and a massive bruise was forming around his eye.

You unlocked your window and rapidly he opened it letting the freezing air enter your cozy apartment.

“Between all the days you could have chosen to get hurt and come here to get patched up, it had to be on my day off?” Your hands raised on your hips in a scolding manner. A habit you and your twin brother, Matt Murdock, had taken from your late father.

“Hey sweetheart” his lips connected with your cheek as he passed you and made his way into your kitchen gathering the needed supplies as if it were his apartment. At this point it almost was. 

“What happened this time? Another mob? Fisk? A gang?” you followed behind him as he walked to the bathroom. After putting down the medical stuff you kept stacked beneath your sink, he sat down on your counter. 

“It was your damn brother” He cursed and you began looking over his injuries. You knew it probably hurt like a bitch but Frank would never show how much he suffered.

“What did he do this time?” you asked, whispering as you poured alcohol on a small white cotton.

“He's still mad you and I are together,  so when I was about to put down one of those gang members” he paused to curse again as you pressed the cotton ball into his cut. “he took the opportunity to hit me with his stupid ass batons”

You listened carefully as he explained what happened.

“You know he's not completely wrong, Frankie” His eyes shifted from the ceiling to you and glared. 

“But they deserve it. They've done worse to innocent people, to children”  His voice got darker when he mentioned the last part.

“I know my love, I know” You laid your hand on his cheeks and ran your thumb over it. “You are right, they deserve it but don't you think it would be better if they served justice in prison? where they wouldn't have the choice to live in poor conditions? where they would have no choice but to rot there?”

He sighed, leaned into your hand and slowly kissed your palm.

“I would never hate you for killing monsters like them but Matthew is not all wrong. He's just doing what he thinks is right, just like you” you spoke softly before you took his hand in yours to examine his knuckles. They were bloody and bruised. You wish they weren't but you knew he was doing it to make the city better, safe. 

“How are you so good to me? I don't deserve you” You stop your work of wrapping his hand in a bandage after he finishes his sentence.

“You deserve everything you ever desire, alright? You are a good man, whoever tries to prove you on the contrary deserve whatever you're gonna do to them” You furiously continue wrapping them. The thought of anyone saying Frank didn't deserve happiness infuriated you.

“Did you just- Did you imply they deserve to be killed?” a smirk appeared on his face and your brow furrowed. It was not the time to make jokes.

“Red would not like what you just said- Hey!” He yelled when you purposely tighten the bandages.

“Okay, okay I'm sorry” You loosened it after his apology and carried on treating his wounds.

you checked his head, his chest, his arms and the rest of his body for other injuries but after a couple of minutes of searching, he seemed fine.

“You might have a headache because of the gash on your forehead so before going to sleep I would recommend you take a Tylenol,” you said while still standing between his knees.

“Can I stay tonight?” His hand came up to your hips to keep you in place. His eyes were begging you.

“You know you always can. You don't even have to ask” you whispered.

"I love you so much” you returned his words before slowly pressing your lips to his. They were chapped from the cold weather but nothing would ever make kissing Frank Castle unpleasant.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow, I have a morning shift at the hospital, and I gotta pay Matt a visit,” you say against his lips and he groans at the mention of his name.

You opened your mouth again, about to add something but his lips connected with your lips shutting you up immediately.

A small moan escaped your lips as his hand grabbed your ass pulling you against him. He stood up now towering over you and without once detaching your lips, you jumped intertwining your legs around his waist.

Your fingers desperately gripped his hair as he held you up while walking messily to your bedroom across your apartment.

Gently, he dropped you into your bed and began kissing down your neck and stomach. Words could not describe how he made you feel that night.`