#Short writing prompt

[a03heralding]

Unbound

★ Please note that this piece of writing contains spoilers for the second act of the game! ★Read under the cut for more :)

★Prompt: A moment with Shadowheart after deserting Shar ★Characters: Shadowheart. Other Characters are only mentioned in this piece ★Tags: SFW, slight angst ★This is just a short draft I wrote a few days ago and likely won't be expanding on. ★Enjoy :)

It's a little past midnight when Shadowheart breaks away from the camp. 

With her bedroll neatly tucked and footfall light, she doesn’t dare glance back at her slumbering companions. She notes how the smoldering campfire illuminates the crease in Lae’zel’s brow, how the embers pop and fall so closely to Karlach’s face she questions if the woman attracts flame, and how Halsin’s bare feet are set solidly against the soil even as he slumbers.

She moves beneath the guise of darkness, the realm that she’s outcast from; just as she has deserted Shar, Shar has in turn deserted her. The cool breeze bites her exposed skin, the long loss of the memories she once cherished now a weighted stone of regret nestled deep within her gut. She knows that one of her comrades, her fellow disciples, or perhaps even a lover long forgotten will emerge from the shadow, gifted by the cover of night and press a blade to the delicate skin of her throat. Penance for her unfaithfulness, penance for her weakness. 

Her feet are bare, enduring how the thickets tempt her skin to crawl and the pebbles jut into her soles. Even when she’s greeted by the shallows of the Chionthar and a chill lances through her body sprawling up her legs into her torso, her feet do not cease their undying march. Shadowheart’s breathlessness isn’t from the way the frosty water nips at her skin and tugs at her clothes, nor is it from the great rippling ships that pass through the night meters away from her. 

It’s the moon that sits expectantly above her. It gazes down at her and weeps its diamante tears into the black of the sky, casting its own visage onto the once azure waters of the river. She feels bare beneath its stare, not even her submerged lower waist and legs safe from the brilliant white beam Selûne skunk stripes through the water and the subsequent land beyond. Shadowheart feels the urge to say something, perhaps to solidify her abandonment of the tyrant that plucked her away from her parents and cast her long lost memories away from her. 

Though when she goes to speak her tongue lies flat in her mouth, her lips uselessly opening and closing as if she’s suddenly choking on the stone in her throat that she struggles to swallow around. 

Instead, Shadowheart weeps. She weeps for her sudden loss of direction in her life, the loss of her once cherished memories. She weeps for the sorrow her parents must have felt when she didn’t return from the forest. Then she weeps for Lae’zel, hunted and scorned by those who she once fought alongside and entrusted with her life. Then for Karlach, who doesn’t want to die but cannot live a life free and worth living. Then for each and every one of the band of merry folk waiting for her back at camp, all deserters in their own right, all wishing for a better life than the ones they’ve managed to slip away from.

Hot tears born of frustration and nurtured by both fear and anguish embark on a scalding path down the cleric’s pallid cheeks and hang suspended on her jawline. Each tear evokes the water around her to ripple, and Selûne's visage to shimmer. 

When she glances up her chest feels raw, and her eyes tender. Where Shar delights in her anguish, Selûne pities her. The water encompassing her waist becomes bearable, and the breeze dissipates in the night’s eerie silence. A gentle hand caresses her wet jaw, beckoning her to gaze upon her reflection, to see what her decisions have wrought. 

it's Selûne who guides her, encourages her to glance up at the white wisps that seep through the roots of her hair. It’s with a stuttering gasp and a glassy disbelieving stare that Shadowheart realizes that the moonlight goddess seeks to cleanse her, ready to take her into her open arms and embrace her with her blessing. And so she stoops to the water, head tilted and framed by the thickets coating the bank, her fingers combing through her silken hair as she wades further and lets the chill envelope her scalp. 

Shar leaves her just as the black in her hair does, the inkiness once inhibiting her locks slipping out into the ever black reflected in the water never to be seen again. She doesn’t need to speak; her ashen hair that crowns the top of her head and scales from the tips of her hair conveys what she tries to voice. And, for the first time in her sentient life, Shadowheart is unbound.

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[specshroom]

Fantasy Short Kings <3

~•°♥°•~

Your typical brash Dwarf warrior. Who is only amused when you, the mage of the party, try and rile him up by poking fun at his height. He knows you're only acting like a brat so he'll go rough on you but he eventually gives in to your lewd fantasies.

"You know, I can probably find a spell to make you....bigger."

He grabs onto the belt hugging your hips and pulls you down to your knees in front of him.

"Are ya sure? Ye can't even handle me this size, Lass."

You can't help the pleased look on your face as you bite your lip and look up at him with love struck eyes from your place, kneeling on the floor. The dwarf scoffs at how satisfied you are with yourself and your "plan". He wastes no time lifting you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying you towards his tent.

~•°♥°•~

Goblin boyfriend who is very horny for you and you alone. When others belittle his sexual abilities or make fun of his height he probably wasn't listening cus he was staring at your boobs. However, when he does manage to pay attention to the comments, his reaction is basically just: "Hoes mad."

He's obsessed with your legs, thighs specifically. He encourages you to wear shorts, skirts, dresses, tighter pants, anything to show off your gorgeous legs.

His goal is to make you feel even half as sexy as he thinks you are.... and he really likes your legs. His undeniable attraction and unrelenting hunger for you gets you off far more than any bigger man could.

~•°♥°•~

Werewolf who's the runt of his pack and definitely on the smaller side. Most of the pack laughs when he finally confesses that he got a mate. He's confided with you about his insecurities before and how the pack treats him so you already have the perfect game plan when you both get invited to a pack get-together. That's why you're bouncing on his cock in the backseat of his car moaning into his neck,

"You gonna mark me up, Baby? Show them who I belong to?"

Making him whine out, "Yeah, f-fuck yes." while gripping your hips and cumming inside your greedy hole.

The look on his pack mates faces was priceless when you walked in there basically reeking of each other with barely hidden bite marks. While the older adults just looked happy that the smallest cub got himself a loving mate, many of the younger adults were clearly struggling with the fact that the runt they bullied for so long actually fucks.

[thepenultimateword]

Prompt #269

Hero:

Your profile says you like stargazing. Would you wanna fly around some time? I can get us an extra good view 😉

Villain:

This is Villain.

Hero:

Dang it!! Stop being on every powered people dating app I use!

Villain:

I think the real question is how you keep matching with me on every dating app you use.

Hero:

I’m not doing it on purpose!!! I’m just not used to seeing you in civilian clothes and keep getting confused!!

And you have to match with me too you know! So I could say the same about you!! Why are you swiping up when you know it’s me?!

Villain:

Honestly? Because it’s hilarious 😆🫰

Hero:

I’m blocking you. AGAIN.

Villain:

Awww, but that stargazing date sounded fun.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #100

In the anti ecto acts it states that all ecto entities must be given to a government agency but it doesn’t say which agency. Danny after the nasty burger incident decides to take advantage of this fact and gives himself up to the justice league. The Justice league doesn’t know how to handle the teenage ghost that showed up one day and said he was turning himself into a government agency.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

A Catfish??

All of the bat children are horrified when they found out the boy Damian has been talking online, someone they were expecting to be a 5’3 twig. Someone who Damian has been crushing on for years turned out to be a 6’3 muscle-bound fucker that makes Jason look small.

They are even more horrified when they realized they never gave Damian the internet talk and for some reason Bruce is not reacting like this is something of concern and what the fuck-?!

The reason Bruce is not freaking out like the rest of his kids is quite simple.

He can see the last of the baby fat clinging to Danny’s face, he notices how even though Danny is a walking tank of a being, he still glances at the doorways like they could not be trusted.

Like he wasn’t used to his height.

No Bruce is not concerned, because all signs and research just points to one fact.

Danny Fenton has came into a Fenton-sized growth spurt.

[dumplingsjinson]

Hello! <3 height difference prompts but character A used to tease B when they were kids but now that they're older , A is constantly the butt of all the short jokes since B is now taller than them .

List of height difference prompts 

“Look at you. So small and cute, huh?” “Shut the hell up.”

Character B wrapping their arm around Character A’s shoulders whenever possible; ruffling their hair with their hand and grinning when Character A grumbles at them for it.

“I could fit you in my luggage.” 

“You’re like an arm rest.”

“So I’m going to have to bend my knees just a little bit for you to hear me properly?” 

“You have five centimeters over me but you’re acting all high and mighty about it. Grow the hell up.” “Well, clearly I’ve grown a lot better than you.” “I will end you”

Character B purposefully making things out of reach for Character A. “Can you get that for me?” “Can I what?” “Can you please get that for me?”

“Need my shoulders to see up there?” “Piss off.”

“Maybe milk will still save that height of yours.” “Oh my God—”

“If I’m a late bloomer then you’re a really late bloomer. You’re probably never going to bloom at all; you’ve reached your maximum capacity.” “I’ll give you exactly five seconds to take that back.”

“I could lift you up off the floor while kissing you.” “Excu— what are you doing?! Put me down!”

“You’re threatening but like, in a very adorable way.”

“I’ve been breaking my back trying to kiss you.” “I’m not that fucking short.”

Character B helping Character A get something they need but then holding it out of reach from them, a grin on their face when Character A starts getting frustrated. “Give that to me, you stupid giant!”

“If you want to experience the world up here, you can always give me a call.” “I’ll kick you in the back of your knees and make you kneel in front of me.” 

[lyralit]

[ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ] ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ

sparks when skin brushes skin

secret smiles

checking to see what they think

seeing an object and thinking of them

hugs that last a beat too long

looking for them in a crowd

holding hands and that's all they can think of

rubbing comforting circles into their skin

laughing more around them

friends pointing [it] out

acting without thinking then checking to see how they reacted

lighting up when you see them

inside jokes

leaving notes

signing off a written correspondence with a kiss or "love"

accidentally referencing them as "my"

nicknames

comfort in their presence

personal gifts

growing really close really quickly

knowing what they'll say

feeling a flutter after something they've done dozens of times

they start analyzing everything to guess if it's romantic or not

face turning red when they get too close

face turning red when they think of them

smiling more easily

glowing after a nice remark and having it pointed out

overanalyzing what others say about them both

thinking maybe...

requested by anon

[luxaofhesperides]

Childhood friends to lovers ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Duke’s grandmother lived in Illinois when he was a kid, years before he and his parents were captured by the Joker and the news of it sent her to a hospital that she didn’t leave until Death arrived for her. But before all that, before his life upended and tore itself to shreds in front of him, Duke used to visit her in the summers.

His parents didn’t want to leave Gotham, but they also didn’t want him to grow up there amid all the crime and rogue attacks. The solution was to drive down to his grandmother’s house, suitcase in the trunk, and stay with him there for a few days before they returned to make sure no one broke into their house. 

She lived in the outskirts of Amity Park, a town smaller than Gotham and much, much quieter. The change in scenery always blew his mind, and he spent most of his childhood summers running around the woods, accidentally scaring hikers. 

There were other kids in Amity, further in towards the suburbs, but he never got along with most of them, too strange, only here for a month or so, and carrying an awareness and sense of danger that all Gothamites had. 

He didn’t really have friends in Amity Park, except for one: Danny Fenton, local outcast due to his scientist parents'… everything. His only friend, a boy named Tucker, would always be gone in the summers as well, visiting family in Chicago and Pennsylvania. 

They gravitated towards each other, as lonely kids tend to do.

Danny helped make those summers fun, full of laughter and skinned knees and smuggled tech from the Fenton household to mess around with. They shared stories of their lives, comparing Amity Park to Gotham, arguing over superheroes and getting distracted each time by how cool heroes were. 

The last summer he ever went to Amity Park, Danny had gotten his first cell phone and eagerly gave Duke his number. Any time they weren’t together, they were texting until they fell asleep, phone still in hand.

The time they spent together was always limited, but Duke could swear that no one in the world knew him as well as Danny did.

He still misses him. 

They still text and call when they can, but it’s gotten hard over the past few years. Duke was caught up in foster care and searching for his parents and being part of the We Are Robin gang and then becoming the Signal. Danny, from what he’s shared with Duke, went through similar things of recovering from a lab accident and then having his town be overrun with ghosts, of all things, which had the government get involved and cause problems.

The few times they were able to find a quiet night where they could just talk and be Duke and Danny again were nights he always treasured, though they left an ache in his chest when it was over. 

It’s just been so long since they’ve seen each other in person. He doesn’t even know what Danny looks like anymore! And, sure, he could always ask for a picture, but it feels awkward. They know what they looked like before. And they’ve heard each other’s voices, know the basics of what’s going on in each other’s lives…

They still know each other, but Duke is all too aware of the distance that’s grown between them.

“Duke, seriously, what’s got you spacing out so much?” Steph asks, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Just thinking. Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

“I was saying,” she says, “That you should do a road trip. Or just like, travel around. Check out college campuses. Enjoy your last summer vacation of high school! Trust me, you’ll want the break before going into senior year.”

“Just because you’re two years older than me—”

“Excuse me for trying to impart my wisdom! See if I help you again when I’m older and wiser.”

“Sure, Steph,” he says, “Whatever you say.”

She squints at him. “What’s with that tone? I’m being helpful right now!”

“Mhm.”

“Geez. I should have let Dick talk to you. Anyways, I already told Bruce that you wanted to do this, so he’s agreed to fund it.”

Duke jerks upright in his seat, nearly falling out of it. “You did WHAT?!”

“You’re welcome,” Steph grins, unrepentant. 

“Steph, come on. This is unnecessary. Isn’t it better for me to help out more in the summer? Train more, work with the team on stuff, you know, important things?”

“Duke.” Steph’s voice suddenly turns serious and he can’t help but give her all his attention. “Listen to me. Your life is more important. If Gotham survived when Bruce was the only cape around, then it’ll survive while you prioritize your life. And that means touring colleges to figure out where you want to go.”

“I could just stay here and go to GCU.”

Steph just stares at him, unimpressed, and he has to admit, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not gonna do that.”

“Just enjoy traveling around, okay? And if you want someone to go with you…” she nudges him with her shoulder, repeatedly, very clearly hinting at something.

“I’ll be sure to ask Cass,” Duke says, and Steph rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny that Cass would be a great travel partner. 

Their conversation comes to a halt when an alarm on her phone goes off and she drops her head with a groan. She grabs her bag and takes off with a quick explanation that she has to get to class, one she hates but is determined to ace just to spite the professor, and in no time at all, Duke is alone again. 

Without Steph providing him a distraction, Duke has nothing to do but read through his texts with Danny. It hasn’t been that long since they last talked; four days ago is nothing compared to the months of silence that went between them a few years ago. They’ve gotten better since staying in contact since then, and make sure to text at least once a week. 

It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

He considers asking Danny where he’s planning to go. Maybe they could go to the same place together, live in the same apartment, be able to finally stick together. Not that it’ll ever happen; the more likely outcome is that they’ll be accepted into different universities, chose places closer to their respective homes, and still be far apart.

An idea begins to form in his mind.

They’ve had summers together before. Maybe they could have one more.

First, he needs to talk to Bruce.

He’s working from home, thankfully, typing away at a laptop in his office when Duke knocks on the door and pokes his head in.

“Duke,” Bruce smiles, pushes his laptop away. “Come in.”

“Hey. Steph said she talked to you about me traveling this summer?”

“Yes. She was very insistent that you go visit any universities that pique your interest. I’ve already agreed to fund everything, and I can take care of plane tickets and hotels as well.” 

Duke nods, trying not to look too nervous. “Yeah, so about that. Could I travel with someone? Would that be cool? Or is this a thing for me only?”

Bruce blinks. “I promise cost is not an issue. Adding another person won’t be a problem. Who is it?”

“Ah, no one you know. He’s a childhood friend of mine who lives in Illinois, and I’d like to spend a summer with him again.”

“Who is it?”

Oh boy. Bruce is definitely going to find everything he can about Danny and his family and start interrogating Duke about him. But if that’s going to let him travel the country with Danny, then he’s more than willing to deal with it.

“Danny Fenton, from Amity Park. The town with the ghost problem.”

Bruce leans back in his chair. “I’ve heard of them. The League discussed investigating it when the news first got out, but Constantine warned us to stay away due to risk of possession. It seems that the local hero, Phantom, has it all in hand.” Bruce nods, already thinking deeply about his next steps. “Alright, I’ll need to do some research. And send me a list of the universities you’d like to visit so I can plan your itinerary.”

“Cool. Thanks, B.”

Duke leaves as quickly as he can after that, letting out a relieved breath  once he’s sure no one is around to hear it. 

Step one is done. 

Now for step two: communication.

duke: hey, are you free for a call anytime soon? danny: yeah! we can call now if u want :)

Well! That was way faster than he was expecting. 

He all but sprints through the halls to get to his room and locks the door behind himself. It won’t do much to stop anyone from actually coming in, but it is a sign that he wants privacy. Once he’s sure no one is going to be listening in and interrupting, Duke pulls up Danny’s contact and hits the call button.

It rings twice before Danny’s picking up, greeting him with a cheerful, “Hey Duke! What’s up?”

“Hey Danny,” he replies, unable to help the way his voice softens with affection. “So, this is totally out of the blue, but if you could spend this summer going around the country with me, would you?”

“I mean, yeah, obviously. You know I’d do anything to spend more time with you! Why?”

Duke grins. While he was sure about what Danny’s answer would be, that didn’t stop him from worrying about a rejection. “Well. Bruce has offered to fund the entire trip and bring someone along.”

“Wait, seriously? You want me to go with you?”

“Who else? Dude, you know I love spending time with you, and I’ve missed you like crazy.”

“Oh my God, you’re serious. Duke! Yes, I want to be your travel buddy! Are you kidding me? In what world would I say no?”

“Hey, man, you can’t blame me for making sure. Are your parents going to be fine with that?”

Danny goes quiet, and Duke feels his heart drop. “Danny? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Danny says, followed by a bitter laugh. “They won’t care. I’ll just tell them I’m going traveling with a friend and that’ll be enough. They’re too busy to care much about what I do, these days. They probably won’t even notice that I’m gone, now that Jazz isn’t here to remind them that I exist.”

“How is Jazz, by the way? We could visit her.”

“She’s doing fine. Really loving Harvard. And I’d love that Duke. You’re the best.”

The mood of the conversation eases and they fall into the usual rhythm of catching each other up, chatting about their lives and any other thought that crosses their minds. It’s easy for the hours to slip away with Danny, and before he knows it, there’s a knock on his door as Alfred calls him for dinner.

He hangs up with a quick goodbye to Danny, along with a promise to send him the itinerary once it’s made. 

Somehow, news of his summer plans get out by the end of the day. Which means Steph blabbed and feels no remorse about it. The next week of Duke’s life is overtaken by nearly every trying to help him plan and prepare for his trip, while lightly interrogating him about Danny. By the time he was heading off to the airport, agreeing to take one of Bruce’s smaller private planes which was piloted by a man who definitely wasn’t Jason going by the name 'Todd Jameson'. Of course not, that would be silly.

(Duke sighed very, very loudly when he saw Jason waving at him from outside the plane. He should have expected the guy to take advantage of Bruce needing a pilot and teasing him about Danny.)

He can’t bring himself to be too bother by it, though, when it means he’ll get to be with Danny again soon. Duke would pay any price to be with him again, so this is hardly anything.

They set off with a wave from Duke and Jason flipping the bird to the rest of the family. And then Jason is up in the cockpit, blasting his playlist of songs from musicals, and Duke is left to wait impatient for the next few hours until they reach Illinois. 

The hours pass far too slow but also much too fast. Duke feels like he barely has time to prepare himself before they’re landing smoothly and Danny texts him to let him know he’s at the airport.

Jason sees him off before heading out to take a call from Roy, telling him to find his own way to his hotel. Duke barely pays him enough mind to say goodbye, grabbing his suitcase and hurrying into the airport, searching for the terminal Danny’s at. 

He doesn’t find Danny first. Danny finds him and slams into him like a freight train. It’s only his training that keeps Duke from toppling over, dropping his suitcase to hold Danny. They cling to each other tightly, as if they might never see each other again. Danny’s got his legs wrapped around Duke’s waist like a koala, and Duke would be happy to carry him forever. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Danny murmurs into his ear. Duke shivers, holding him tighter, and smiles.

“Yeah. I know. Man, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

“I think I can take a pretty good guess.”

Danny pulls away, dropping his feet back to the ground. 

Duke is finally able to see Danny for the first time in years, and he’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a solid minute. Danny grew up fine. He’s got the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, and soft black hair that’s a little windswept and messy, and his grin is as bright and beautiful as always. For a moment, Duke wants nothing more than to kiss him.

Then Danny steps back and the thought fades. 

“Ready to go? We’re going to UChicago first, yeah?”

“That’s the plan,” Duke says, falling into step with Danny as they make their way out of the airport. “Then a day just to hang out in Chicago before we head to Harvard.”

“Cool,” Danny grins. “Hotel first, though, right?”

“Yeah, man, catch up time is essential.”

Danny glances over at him, something unreadable in his eyes, but he smiles when he sees that Duke is already looking at him. “Let’s get going, then.”

Danny drives them in a car he apparently made himself, which explains why it’s a model Duke’s never seen before. It drives like a dream and Duke is very tempted to get Danny to make one for the Signal, maybe even wrangle up a contract to have him work with Batman Inc. 

They spend the two hour drive chatting and laughing as if no time has passed at all since they last saw each other in person. All the years seem to fade away and they’re just Duke and Danny again, spending another summer together. 

Check in goes smoothly, and the room Bruce has booked them is large, with two beds, a seating area, and a dining area. A glass door leads to a small balcony with two chairs and a fantastic view of the lake behind the hotel. They set both their suitcases on the luggage rack, and Duke only has time to turn to Danny to ask which bed he wants before he finds himself pressed up against the wall, Danny’s hands on his cheeks.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he whispers against Duke’s lips.

Duke doesn’t bother replying. He just leans in, closes the minuscule distance between them, and kisses Danny. It’s soft and sweet and everything he’s ever wanted.

Then Danny makes a small noise in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss. It goes from soft to heated and desperate and all consuming instantly. Duke slides his hands around Danny’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and thinks I never want to leave you again.

He’s completely lost track of time when Danny pulls back with gasp. They both take a few seconds to catch their breath, and Duke realizes his cheeks feel cold.

“Sorry,” Danny whispers, pulling his hands away. Duke catches them before they can go too far and holds them together.

“Sorry for what?”

“The frost,” he says, wiggling his fingers lightly. Duke glances down and sees that his fingertips are lightly coated in frost, spilling down his fingers.

“You have powers?”

“Came with the lab accident.”

“Man,” Duke says, “We have got to catch up properly. There’s a ton I haven’t told you.”

Danny laughs lightly, breathlessly. “Oh, for sure. But later. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for years.”

“Danny, baby, you can kiss me all night if you want.”

“I intend to,” he says with a bright grin.

What else could Duke do but lean in and kiss him again?

Nothing else exists in that moment except them. Duke is so, so glad he’s got the rest of summer to spend with Danny. He’s going to take him on dates in every city they visit. 

They’ve gone years without seeing each other. Duke refuses to let it happen again. Whatever future awaits them, he’ll do all he can to keep Danny in it. 

But for now, he’s got his cute childhood friend to kiss and all the privacy a hotel room can offer. He fully intends to make the most of it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1351

“Such vile creatures, aren’t they?” the guard asked as he sneered at the chained dragon.

The scaly beast lay at his feet, starved and wounded. It could only stare back with equal disdain, lacking the strength to growl or hiss.

Beside the man, a renowned beast slayer stood studying the defeated creature. “Worry not,” they said, “I shall bring an end to this filth.”

“Good. We’ll finally be rid of this thing.”

The guard nodded before turning to leave. Behind him, the dragon watched with wide eyes as the slayer’s spear pointed towards the man’s back and was swiftly thrust through his heart.

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[glittervame]

I want to make this perfect for you

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the sky a deep shade of indigo, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine. She looked up at the stars twinkling overhead, a sense of wonder and anticipation welling up inside her. It was their first time here, at this special place that had always held a special meaning for them. The soft rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze created a soothing melody that seemed to echo their hearts.

She turned to face him, her heart hammering against her chest as he knelt down before her. His hands were trembling slightly, and there was an expression on his face that she had never seen before - a mix of nervousness, excitement, and tenderness. "Are you sure?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, feeling her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. "I'm sure," she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. He smiled reassuringly, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the hem of her shirt. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it over her head, revealing her naked back to the night air. The cool breeze sent shivers down her spine, making her feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

But as he leaned in close, his warm breath fanning across her skin, she felt a strange sense of safety and security wash over her. He traced a line down her shoulder, following the curve of her arm, before cupping her breast in his hand. She let out a small gasp, her nipple hardening under his touch. He looked up at her, his eyes burning with desire, and she could see the need in them. The need to make her feel good, the need to make her happy.

With careful, tender fingers, he placed a hand on her back laying her down gently. She bit her lip, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement course through her veins.

His warm hands slipped between her legs, and she gasped, arching her back into the touch. He chuckled softly, a low rumble that vibrated against her skin. "I've dreamt of this moment for so long," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "I want to make it perfect for you."

He began to slowly explore her, His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out, tracing the outline of her entrance before finally dipping inside, feeling the warmth and wetness of her arousal envelop his fingertips. She whimpered, her hips bucking instinctively towards his touch. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she relished in the sensation of being touched in this intimate way.

Her moans filled the air, mingling with the sounds of the nature around them, and Luke found himself completely lost in the feeling of having her beneath him, surrendering to his touch. His fingers moved in and out of her, finding a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of their hearts. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and as he looked down at the expression of pure bliss on Y/n's face, he knew that this was something he would never forget.

Every touch, every caress was met with a desperate whimper, her body arching into his touch, begging for more. Luke couldn't help but marvel at the feel of her, the sounds she made, the way she responded to his touch. It was as if she were made for him, and he for her. He slowed down, savoring the moment, enjoying the sensation of being so close to her.

He could feel her inner walls start to tighten around his fingers, and with one final thrust, he pushed in as deep as he could, feeling and seeing the ripple of her orgasm wash over her. Her body tensed, her back arching off the ground, her cries of ecstasy filling the air.

As the aftershocks of her climax began to subside, he looked down at her, marveling at the way she glowed in the fading light, her skin flushed. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, tracing the outline of her jaw with his fingertip.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. Y/n nodded, still catching her breath, her eyes shining with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief. Luke smiled down at her, his thumb tracing circles on her chest. "We're just getting started," He murmurs as he kisses along her collar bone.

Luke leaned over, his lips inches from her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispered, his fingers gently tracing the outline of her breast. She nodded, her heart racing, and he smiled, his eyes meeting hers. With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, their bodies pressed tightly together. His hand moved to the button of her jeans, and with a deft flick, he undid it, letting the denim fall to the floor.

His fingers found their way back between her legs, teasing at her entrance, spreading her wetness. She arched her back, her hips moving instinctively towards his touch. With steady hands, he positioned himself at her entrance, and she felt the head of his shaft press against her. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "I love you," he whispered, and then with a gentle push, he slipped inside her.

She cried out, feeling him stretch her in a way she never imagined possible. It hurt at first, but then it felt so good, so right. He began to move inside her, slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling of him filling her. His eyes never left hers, and he held her hand, intertwining their fingers.

The sensation was overwhelming, her body responding to every stroke, every touch. She felt herself growing closer, the pleasure building inside her. Her back arches pushing him further into her, urging him on, desperate for more.

As he thrust deeper, she arched her back, meeting his movements with a fervor that surprised even her. The pain gave way to pleasure, and she felt herself growing closer and closer to another orgasm she hadn't even realized she was capable of. He picked up the pace, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes darkening with desire.

With a cry that was part pain and part ecstasy, she felt herself peak, her body shuddering around him as her release washed over her.

"Y/n," he groaned, his voice thick with need "I'm close…" Luke felt her tighten around him, and with a groan, he followed her over the edge, his body shuddering as he released himself into her. The sensation was overwhelming, the connection between them so intense that it left him breathless. She felt the warmth of his seed spill inside her, and as he collapsed on top of her, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.

They lay there for a while, catching their breath, their bodies still joined. The stars twinkled above them, the rustling leaves creating a soothing lullaby. It was perfect, just as she always imagined it would be.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice raspy. She nodded, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his back. He turns his head to kiss along her shoulder. Luke rolled to the side, taking her with him. They were face-to-face, their bodies still connected. She felt his warmth against her, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "I've always thought so."

She smiled up at him, her heart still racing. "Thank you," she whispered. "That means a lot." They lay there in silence for a moment, just enjoying the closeness, the intimacy. Luke's hand drifted down her stomach, over her hip, and back up again, as if he were memorizing the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

That was the last thing she felt as her eyes fluttered shut, finally falling into a blissful sleep.

[thepenultimateword]

Prompt #260

"You idiot," Hero growled, pressing the antiseptic-soaked cotton swab hard against Villain's back. "Didn't I tell you not to go? But why listen to me when you obviously know best?”

Villain hissed through their teeth. "Do you really have to do this now? I'm in enough pain without you rubbing salt in the wound."

"What you'd prefer something like this? 'Oh, my poor baby, you're hurt! Who did this to you? Was it that new group of heroes? Oh darling, you were so brave! Please, let me take care of you!"

"I mean, that would be nice..."

Hero lifted the swab and shoved into another raw spot, eliciting a primal yowl from Villain's throat. "Tough luck. Next time, don't make me worry."

[celestialwrites]

OHHH I LOVE YOUR PROMPTSSS PLEASE WRITE GRUMPY X SUNSHINE PROMPTS!! But like - the grump is not mean, he's just stern, and quite but actually grows soft for sunshine and loves to hear her talk? I'm sorry ik it's very specific😭😭😭

TY<;3 (grumpy x sunshine is honestly one of the best tropes!!)

ೃ⁀➷ grumpy x sunshine prompts

✩ he could listen to her talk for hours. actual hours. he would sit with that sweet little smile that only she has the gift of seeing and he would just listen.

✩ the sunshine gives him a stern look of fake anger and his nose just scrunches up and he has the softest little smile that makes her heart burst.

✩ “what are you doing?” “looking at you.” “okay, but why?” “because you’re gorgeous.”

✩ he normally doesn’t like to be touched but he always snuggles up to her.

✩ whenever he’s angry/anxious his first reaction is to call her, letting the sound of her voice sooth him.

✩ “are you still paying attention?” “of course” “i’ve been talking about (insert thing he doesn’t like)” “i love the sound of your voice nonetheless.”

✩ he will call her at just to most random times just to hear her voice.

✩ laying in bed and talking might just be his favourite part of the day, the way her face just lights up when she’s encountering a memory of the day makes his heart do funny things.

✩ “i’m going to sleep.” “no, don’t.” “why not?” “just keep talking…please?”

✩ the look he gives people when they interrupt her whilst she’s talking, it’s deadly.

✩ she loves telling him about her day just to see the stars in his eyes and the million dollar smile he has.

✩ the sunshine will specifically try and send voice messages instead of texts&lt;3

(feel free to change up the pronouns!)

@celestialwrites for more

[metalhoops]

“I think I’m seeing things, man,” Eddie spoke from his spot on the Harrington’s couch. His white skin appeared paler still against the brown leather. 

Steve didn’t blame him. He was on all kinds of painkillers. It’d been two weeks since the world fell apart. Two weeks since Vecna disappeared. Two weeks since Eddie almost died. 

Steve liked to treat those memories as others treated head-on collisions. It was better not to look at them directly. It was better to treat it like it’d never happened. 

“What’re we looking at?” Steve asked from his spot on the floor, following Eddie’s line of sight to the gap in the curtains. 

“Don’t know. Thought I saw somebody outside,” Eddie confessed. 

The Harrington house had always been filled with spectres, whether that of partygoers, like front lawn flamingos in need of an exorcism or the body in the backyard pool. But those were Steve’s hang-ups, not Eddie’s. 

If all it took to be a ghost was to haunt, Eddie might be included in the ranks of his own private phantasmagoria. He kept checking each night to make sure the boy was really there, that he’d really gotten out. People shouldn’t have that much blood in them, and they definitely shouldn’t have that much blood out of them. 

Steve went to the window because that was something he could do for Eddie. He wasn’t sure why he kept feeling the need to apologise. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but hell if Steve knew if he’d done anything right either. He’d gotten Eddie out of the Upside Down. He’d put his hands inside the boy’s body, shoved his shirt beneath his skin and held it in the dark cavity that oozed and throbbed warm blood like the rise and fall of the tide.

Don’t think about it. Check the window. His hands at his side felt cold. He wondered if they’d ever be warm again. There was a figure across the street. 

A boy in a basketball jersey circled passed the house. 

Things never ended smoothly. Steve liked to think once Jason went down the rest of the vigilante crew would stop looking for Eddie, but there were some stragglers who hadn’t got the message. 

Hopper had his hands full trying to clear Eddie’s name. Eddie’s uncle was still looking for him. The whole town was holding their breath in the midst of destruction, waiting for someone to blame. Steve shut the curtains, turned the lights off and moved to Eddie’s side in the darkness. 

“Hounds of hell still circling then?” Eddie guessed after one glimpse at Steve’s face. 

“I’ll call Hopper,” Steve reasoned, reaching up to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Maybe to make sure he was real. Maybe to tell him he was sorry. 

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Eddie spoke, reaching out and snagging the hem of Steve’s sweater.

“No one thinks I’m here. If the cops show up at the Harringtons’ it’s going to turn some heads,” Eddie reasoned, and he was right.

So where did that leave them? Sitting alone in the dark with Eddie fading in and out of sleep and Steve watching car headlights dance across the curtains, waiting for the moment everything went wrong. 

“Steve?” Eddie breathed beside Steve’s ear in the blackness. He hadn’t realised they were so close. 

“Yeah?” Steve moved his eyes from the window to look at Eddie. 

“I think I’m crashing,” he noted, a grimace dancing across his face. Steve had never felt smaller. 

“Doc said we’ve gotta wait six hours,” Steve replied, hoping he didn’t sound as worried as he felt. 

“How long’s it been?” 

“Three.” 

Steve always wanted to appear cool in times of crisis, but he had no idea what he was doing. Some of the government agents Steve had signed countless NDAs for over the past four years had patched Eddie up as best they could and had started scrambling for a cover-up. 

In the meantime, Eddie would stay at Steve’s place. It made the most sense. Eddie was nobody to Steve. No one would go looking for Eddie at the Harringtons’, and unlike the other older teens, he didn’t have parents to answer to. Big house. No parents. Perfect place to lie low. 

Steve was nobody to Eddie and yet for the past week, they’d been an island unto themselves, trapped indoors together, watching shadows on the walls and trying to keep each other alive and sane. He felt completely unprepared. 

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go to bed,” Steve muttered, kneeling in front of Eddie. He watched the boy rise to a sitting position over his shoulder. Eddie snorted.

“What exactly is the plan here, Steve?” 

Eddie had been stuck oscillating between the living room, kitchen, and downstairs bathroom for days. They could both use a change of scenery. 

“Piggyback,” Steve spoke, trying not to think about the connotations that the word had garnered. He wasn’t going to think about Vecna. Not today. 

He expected the boy to argue, but instead, he felt Eddie’s arms snake around his throat. He held tight, but not as tight as he should. Steve had to hold on to his forearms like backpack straps as he stood. Eddie’s legs were stronger. They held firm around Steve’s waist. 

Eddie’s head flopped against Steve’s shoulder blade, nuzzling into the space. He was warm as the sun. Too warm. He was running a temperature. Steve tried not to think of the last time he carried Eddie. The boy was uncharacteristically quiet. Steve needed to do something. 

“Saddle up, buckeroo,” Steve spoke, hoisting Eddie further up his back. He felt a puff of air against his neck, a barely there laugh. 

“Hi-yo, Silver,” Eddie grumbled against Steve’s skin. 

Steve moved deftly through the dark, taking the staircase slowly and methodically. The last thing either of them needed was another broken bone. 

“I think I owe you one once all this is over,” Eddie noted. Steve was already shaking his head.

“You stick around, and I’ll call it a favour. I think Henderson would kick my ass if you died.” 

“The kid’s got spunk. I’ll give him that,” Eddie noted as the two reached the top of the stairs. 

“He’s got an attitude and a problem with authority,” Steve corrected, taking Eddie to his bedroom.

He moved to the edge of his bed and let Eddie extract himself. When they broke apart, Steve felt cold again. 

“That’s our boy,” Eddie chuckled, shooting Steve a lopsided smirk. He was definitely still high on painkillers.

Steve rolled his eyes and helped lower Eddie down onto his favourite pillow, the one worn down with age but all the more comfortable for it. He pulled the covers up around the boy’s shoulders.

“Yeah, our boy,” Steve echoed in a too-fond tone. 

He’d never let Henderson hear the term of affection. The kid had a big enough head as it was, but in the too-quiet world of just himself and Eddie, he felt okay admitting it. Once it looked like Eddie was settled in, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, feeling as he always did, like a stranger in his own home. 

“When did you last get some shut-eye, boy wonder?” Eddie asked, his foot tucking beneath Steve’s thigh.  

Friday. What day was it? Sunday. Not good. 

“Well, come on then, don’t make a guy beg. Lay down, Steve. It’s your bed. I could sleep in the spare room if it’s a problem.” There was something cautious about the offer Steve didn’t understand. 

He flopped down beside Eddie, so close the two shared a pillow. It changed the shape of the thing. It made the familiar strange. 

“You know, I had this dream last night,” Eddie began, his dark eyes still open, glued to the ceiling. He cringed, knowing all the ways dreams could go bad, but Eddie shook his head.

“Not that kind of dream,” He insisted, his hands balling into fists on the bedsheets. 

“I had a dream I was a pinball machine,” the boy stated plainly. The absurdity of the statement shocked a laugh out of Steve. 

“These painkillers are legit, Harrington,” Eddie spoke, shooting Steve a sidelong glance. 

“What kind of pinball machine?” 

“You know the Centaur one? It’s black and white, mostly. The arts got this topless guy who’s half man, half motorbike,” Eddie explained. 

Steve had no idea what he was saying, but it was nice to hear him talk. 

“Wait, if you were the pinball machine, how did you know what you looked like?” 

“Great question Steven. I’ve got no clue. Dream logic,” Eddie reasoned.  

Steve screwed up his nose at the use of his full name. Only his dad called him Steven. Eddie raised a brow, seeming to take note. One of them had shifted closer. Steve wasn’t sure who. Eddie’s hand brushed against his side as he played with the sheets. 

“Remind me again why I needed to know about your pinball dream?” Steve asked. The sound of the wind in the trees outside his bedroom window set his teeth on edge. 

“Because you’re too damn serious and I thought it’d make you smile... Which it did.” Eddie added the last part in quietly and Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie craned his head to look around Steve’s room before screwing up his nose. 

“Anyone ever told you your wallpaper is gaudy as hell? Your curtains match your walls. Dude, I thought rich people were meant to have taste,” he observed, the boys’ shoulders pressed together. 

“This coming from the guy who eats cereal out of the box with his hands,” Steve countered, no heat in his voice. 

“Are you still mad I used to stand on your lunch table?” Eddie muttered, shoving Steve’s shoulder before tensing. When had Steve last checked his dressings? 

He flipped the bedside lamp on, leaning over Eddie to do so. He’d been helping the guy shower for days now. Privacy was a word reserved for other people. Intimacy was a necessity.  

“Once you stood in my mashed potatoes. It was disgusting,” Steve uttered, gently peeling up the hem of Eddie’s tee shirt. Really, it was Steve’s, but it seemed strange to make distinctions. 

Eddie’s eyes trailed down to Steve’s fingers, half-hooded and slowed with sleep or inebriation, Steve didn’t know which. He wondered how much of all this Eddie would remember when he got better. He would get better. 

“You never ate the potatoes. You’d bring your stupid bagels from home,” Eddie remarked, as Steve carefully unwound the bandage and gauze. It was stained brown with dried blood, but it looked better than it’d been a few days before, no longer as red or swollen.   

The bagel comment made Steve look up. Seemed like Robin wasn’t the only one that’d been watching him. Maybe Eddie had a crush on Tammy Thompson, too. Maybe it was something else. Steve’s friends had crappy taste in women. Eddie could do better. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Eddie questioned, noticing Steve’s sudden silence. 

He cleaned the wounds as best he could. Eddie’s fingers had found their way to Steve’s thigh, gripping so tight he thought it would bruise. It would be another to add to the collection. Steve hadn’t been thinking of how his battle wounds were healing. He was in triage mode. Eddie’s wounds were worse than his. 

“We're going to have to amputate,” Steve deadpanned as he found the first aid kit he’d hidden beneath his bed years before, starting to redress the wound. 

“How the hell can you amputate a side?” Eddie asked with a shaky laugh, his breathing more ragged again. 

“Well, you see, there’s this new experimental procedure that lets you transplant your brain into a pinball machine,” Steve began and felt Eddie’s elbow in his side. 

“Screw you.” 

Steve laid back beside Eddie, less space between them than before, if it was at all possible. They braced against each other, the contact grounding Steve. Eddie was alive. He was alive. Maybe one day they could look at each other and not think about death. That day wasn’t today, but Steve could hope for it. 

As Eddie drifted to sleep, his head fell on Steve’s shoulder. He wouldn’t sleep for long that night, but he was used to that. He knew the weeks and months after a run-in with the Upside Down were full of fitful sleep and nightmares, but they never lasted. 

On a long enough timeline, you could get used to anything. It was strange how short that timeline was when it came to getting used to Eddie. 

More days came and went with the same imperfect routines. The two boys woke at all hours of the night and spent the daylight hours behind closed curtains, trying to heal. 

By the third day, Steve got sick of the quiet. A sombre mood hung over them, shifting and changing like the phases of the moon. It never entirely disappeared, but there were moments it seemed almost absent.  

One of these such moments arose when Steve hijacked the boombox from the living room and dragged it upstairs to his bedroom, where a slowly healing Eddie sat bored out of his mind, aching and itchy. Steve knew the feeling. The wound on his neck had scabbed and begun to fade into a scar. 

“Hey, Munson?” Steve spoke, sitting beside Eddie, spreading his tape collection between them. 

“You wanna hear some real music?” He asked, watching Eddie’s nose scrunch and his teeth worry away at his bottom lip.

“These are all horrible, Harrington.” 

Eddie turned over several cassettes in his hand, treating them gently as though they were something special.  

“You have every WHAM! album, dude. The Outfield. Halls & Oats. Tears for Fears,” Eddie listed off, his tone one of disgust. 

“You’re going to have to pick something, or I’ll pick WHAM! out of spite.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled through the tapes, tossing one Steve’s way. 

“Bowie isn’t horrible,” Eddie mumbled as Steve placed The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, into the player. 

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, as always, listening to the quiet swell of drums. Steve realised too late it was a song about the end of the world. He realised, later still, that it was a love song. Eddie’s fingers drummed against his knee. Steve tried to ignore the way the action made his heart swell. 

Steve couldn’t sit still any longer as Moonaged Daydream began. He remembered another life in Nancy Wheeler’s garage, asking her to pretend things were normal for a couple of hours. God, he wanted that. He needed a few normal hours.

He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, but parts of him had stayed the same. He didn’t know how to change them. Nancy Wheeler faced problems head-on, but Steve? The passage of time had taught him how to stand his ground in the face of danger, but he hadn’t yet learned how to stop being chased. 

He caught Eddie’s eye and watched as a wicked grin spread across his face. Without words, he knew exactly what Steve was about to do. He grabbed the nail bat he kept by the bed, the same one from the Wheeler’s garage and sang, using the gnarly weapon as his makeshift microphone. He was a little too loud and a little off-tune.  He sang about alligators and space invaders, lyrics he knew off by heart, without understanding them.

He watched as a grin threatened to crack Eddie’s face in two. There was a reckless abandon to his smile. It was different from the glazed-eyed, half-high smiles of the past week. His eyes were keen and sharp as he watched Steve fling himself across the room in the way only someone who’d learned to dance drunk could.

By the time the album finished, he’d worked up a sweat. Eddie joined in, singing a couple of lines when he could before tugging Steve back to bed, his hand in Steve’s hair, smoothing it back in place. The action was intimate, yet familiar.

“Alright, Starman. Maybe Bowie doesn’t suck so hard, but when I’m not on the run from the law, I’m going to show you what real music sounds like.” 

“Promise?” Steve asked, his chest heaving. 

Then, Eddie did something so unlike anything the populous of Hawkins would expect. To them, he was a Satanist and a murderer. Steve had always known better, but he’d seen Eddie as a wildcard. He was loud and rough around the edges, but he also had the capability of being endearing when the moment called for it. Still, Steve had never expected Eddie to roll over, extend his pinkie and link their little fingers together. 

“I promise,” He assured, placing his lips to the knuckle of his thumb as though sealing the deal. 

The action was equal parts childlike and intense. Steve looked down at their interlaced fingers and knew he was in over his head. Warmth pooled in Steve’s fingertips. 

“Eds, I—,” A knock at the downstairs door made the words die on Steve’s lips. The boys pulled apart. Steve was cold. 

“I’ll get it,” Steve spoke, picking up the discarded nail bat and trudging down the stairs. 

He hoped it was one of the door-knocking jocks. Some primal part of him felt like hitting something. Years before, he would have questioned if he was the kind of person who could do it, but now he knew he could. 

Steve clutched at the bat hidden behind his back as he swung open the door, coming face-to-face with an older man dressed in too-short jean shorts, holding an armful of paper bags. He looked familiar. He’d seen the man with Hopper. A furrow etched its way onto his brow. 

“Aren’t you going to let your beloved uncle in, Steve?” The man spoke, loud enough for the people in the next neighbourhood to hear. 

“Right,” Steve mumbled, pushing the door open and stepping to the side. 

The man walked through the house as though he’d grown up within their walls, dropping the paper bags on the countertop, switching on the lights and examining the space. 

“Hopper sent me with supplies. It’d draw too much attention having the feds at your front door, but a visit from your favourite Uncle Murray? That’s incognito. I’ve got groceries and painkillers, slipped in some vodka too, on the house. Personally, I was thinking of making my homemade ravioli for dinner. Trust me, it’s to die for. Where’s the other one by the way?” The man, Murray, breathed, spinning on his heels to examine the interior of the house.  Steve let his nail bat fall to the floor.

“You really should invest in a gun, kid...Was I interrupting something?” The older man asked, gesturing absentmindedly to his balding head. Steve touched his hair and found it still out of place. He ran his fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. 

“No, we... I was sleeping. Eddie’s upstairs. I think he’s okay, but I could use another set of eyes. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. Are you staying?”

“I’m just staying for dinner. It’d look strange if your uncle only showed up for a few minutes, wouldn’t it?” Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“There’s the man of the hour,” Murray spoke, glancing up at the top of the staircase where Eddie stood, leaning heavily on the banister. 

“What happened to staying up there?” Steve spoke through gritted teeth, making his way back up the stairs. 

“You were taking too long,” Eddie muttered with an unbothered shrug. 

“And if it’d been one of Jason’s asshole friends, we’d have been screwed,” Steve rebutted, letting Eddie lean on him as they made their way to Murray in the kitchen. At least he could walk.

“But it wasn’t,” Eddie huffed, his breath warm on Steve’s neck. 

Steve kicked out one of the kitchen chairs and lowered Eddie into it. The older man watched them as a scientist observes a specimen. There was a morbid fascination to it.

“I see you two are getting along well,” He spoke. 

He’d found where Steve’s mother had stored their pots and had begun some strange kitchen alchemy. Steve had made risotto. This guy looked like he was completing a summoning ritual. The ingredients were splayed out on the countertop like objects of adoration. 

Steve sat down in the chair beside Eddie. It felt strange having someone else in the house. For what seemed like a lifetime, his world had consisted of one other person. He missed Robin, Dustin, and the rest of the kids, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on it. He’d known their isolation couldn’t last forever, but he’d never have guessed Murray would be the first person he’d see.  

“Tense mood. Why is it I always end up in the middle of couples in denial?” Murray breathed to himself. 

Eddie’s head snapped up with a speed Steve hadn’t seen him manage all week. Steve didn’t look at Murray, he was too busy trying to unpick the pained look on Eddie’s face. His eyes searched the boy’s body for some torn open wound he’d missed. 

“What? Don’t look so surprised. Contrary to what kids these days think, we did have homosexuality in the sixties,” Murray informed before pausing. He gave Steve a once-over that made his skin crawl. He felt as though he were a bug, pinned beneath a glass plate. 

“And bisexuality,” He clarified. 

Steve averted his eyes and reached over to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He was hopelessly lost in the conversation, but he knew something was wrong with Eddie. The boy jumped at the sudden contact and Steve pulled his hand away as though burnt. 

“So, what’s the problem? Still in denial?” Murray asked, levelling Steve with a knowing look. He scowled back at the man, ready for him to leave. 

“No. I think you know how you feel, maybe even how he feels.” Steve didn’t know how to respond. 

“You, however,” Murray continued, turning his attention to Eddie, the boiling pot on the stove, forgotten.

“I don’t think you have a clue. Self-esteem issues, maybe. You try to hide it, but you couldn’t imagine that someone in a house like this would look at you twice.” 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie breathed with a huff of indignation. Murray showed no signs of stopping. His eyes were back on Steve. 

“So, what’s holding you back? You got your heart broken after Nancy Wheeler. Let me guess, you keep saying how much you want commitment, but you keep dating the wrong people, people who don’t want to be tied down. That, my boy, is self-sabotage and him,” Murray spoke, indicating Eddie with a wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the rice. 

“He looks like a long-haul kind of guy.” 

“Dude,” Eddie interjected. 

“What? You’re both obviously attracted to one another. Don’t lie. I have eyes. You’re telling me that all this near-death stuff hasn’t made you re-evaluate your life a little? It’s just been you two, locked away together at the end of the world, helping each other heal. Seeking comfort in one another. You’ve got shared trauma. That kind of thing bonds you for life.” 

“Leave it alone,” Steve said, standing as he spoke. The chair scraped on the tile floor. A nails on a chalkboard kind of sound. 

Steve pushed past the older man, pulled the pot off the stove, and let a tense silence settle over the three of them. The subsequent dinner dragged on in uncomfortable silence. Steve and Eddie kept their eyes glued to their plates. Murray talked but neither paid attention. He gave Eddie’s wounds a once over, appearing as lost as Steve. He didn’t seem concerned, so Steve took it as a good thing. 

He thought he’d known what tense silence between himself, and Eddie felt like, but he’d known nothing compared to the moment Murray left. His whole body was on edge. Eddie wouldn’t meet his eyes. They needed to talk, but neither wanted to be the first to cave. 

“I was thinking of turning in early,” Steve spoke, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

The boys lay side by side, but sleep didn’t come. Eddie’s body was wound tight as a tourniquet. This time, Steve was the one bleeding out. 

He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Maybe that he was sorry. Murray was right. Steve had known Eddie liked him and he hadn’t said anything because it wasn’t a problem he could throw himself in front of. It’d be easier if he thought telling Eddie would end up with him getting hit. There were worse things. 

Eddie’s feelings had become more apparent as their time together wore on, but on some level, Steve had known long before. When Eddie had leaned over into his space smelling of cigarette ash, dried earth and sweat and called Steve some god-awful pet name, he’d known. He also knew the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That revelation came later. Eddie had been fading in and out of consciousness. Steve had shaken him awake to redress his wounds when it happened. The boy awoke, shooting him a lopsided grin, gazing at Steve with his drowsy, doe eyes.

He’d crooned, ‘Good morning sunshine’. And that had been enough. 

Steve’s heart had stuttered to a halt as it had all the times before when a pretty girl had called him a prettier name. 

As much as Steve hated to admit it, Murray had been right about a lot of things. There was one thing Steve desperately wanted him to be wrong about. 

He and Eddie were bonded because of what they’d been through. That’s what the man had said. Shared trauma. Was that all they were?

Steve was back in the bathroom with Nancy, her white shirt, red. The whites of his eyes the moment she left, red. 

He knew where shared trauma got him. He’d try to bury it. To move past it. He wanted to be more than what was done to him. People would say he was running. He was bullshit. 

How was he meant to sit with the kind of stuff he and Eddie had been through? How was he meant to fight it? Would Steve always look at Eddie and see his death? Would Eddie always look at Steve and feel like dying? 

“I wished I’d met you later,” Steve spoke to the dark room. Eddie’s locked body loosened, and as it did, he started to shake. In a moment, he’d start to bleed too. 

“You know, normally people say they wished they’d met you sooner.” 

“I mean... I wish we’d met after everything with The Upside Down. That you hadn’t gotten dragged into it. I wish that we’d gotten to know each other the normal way,” Steve explained. Eddie snorted. 

“Can you imagine me doing anything the normal way?” He had a point. 

Steve didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. The silence was back, looming large as a lunar eclipse. 

“You aren’t... weirded out by what he said? About me liking you?” Eddie’s voice was small. The only time Steve heard Eddie whisper was when he was dying. 

“I think he also said something about me liking you back,” Steve replied, glancing at Eddie’s profile only to find the man was already watching him. His face was contorted in confusion. 

“Then... what’s the problem here, Stevie?” 

Steve had never been good with his words. 

“What if we’ve ruined it?” He tried. At seeing a frown cross Eddie’s face, he knew he hadn’t done a good enough job at explaining. 

“With what’s happened between me and you. You never would’ve looked at me twice if I hadn’t saved you, and what if that’s all we’ve got? Shared trauma.” 

Bullshit. What if all they had was bullshit? Eddie finally understood.

“I don’t like you because you saved me, Steve. I like you because despite all the terrible shit you make me want to laugh.  I love that you’re shit at dancing, but you do it anyway. Also, screw that guy your risotto is better than his. You’re a good cook. Your stupid hair makes me want to slam my head in a car door and before you say anything, that’s a compliment. You care so damn much about everyone.” To Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s hand reached up to touch his cheek. 

“I don’t like you because we’ve been through bad shit together. I like you because you make me feel like one day, we’re going to get out on the other side of it, that things aren’t going to be like this forever,” Eddie finished.

Steve’s heart was a cardinal, beating itself bloody against a windowpane. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous. 

Eddie’s smile was a lightning strike, bright, beautiful and something they’d shape gods after. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Eddie’s lips were warm.