F/o Prompts - Tumblr Posts

Picture me this.

You, me, cute ice cream date. We're both lactose intolerant.

Of all the ways to say “I love you,” my favorite has always been “Let me take care of you.”

Whether you’re the one in need or your F/O has fallen farther than they can handle by themself, think about the volumes that it can speak. Think about the caretaker gazing fondly— yet exasperatedly— at the other, murmuring those words softly. It’s not just “I love you.”

It’s “You need to take care of yourself.”

“You’re not alone.”

“You don’t need to hold all of this weight by yourself.”

“I’ll stay by your side, always.”

“You’ve been so tired for far too long.”

“Please, you can rest now… Let me take care of you.”

Me writing about me from my pov: She was a little pretty, and a little kind, and a little plain and quiet. She was a little of a lot of things, but a whole lot of nothing else. 

Me writing about me from my f/o’s pov: She was so unimaginably angelic, it was a miracle heaven hadn’t opened to snap her up where she belonged. She was strikingly kind, and the air of peace in her eyes made one feel calm just looking at her. It was frankly hard to speak to her, if only because it made one feel horribly flustered to do so.

imagine cooking with your f/o. you're perched on the kitchen counter, a cookbook open in your lap while they're bustling around chopping vegetables and measuring out spices at your instruction ("oh god, did i say 1/2 cup?? i meant 1/4" "eh, it'll probably be fine"). imagine they give you little tastes from the pot when they stir it, insisting you have to try just a tiny bit because i don't know if i put enough salt in, is that good? does it need more? but really their heart squeezes in their chest every time you give a pleased little mm, perfect and look at them with that proud sparkle in your eyes.

imagine they put on music and the kitchen is filled with the warm, savory scent of food and your f/o's singing as they dance from place to place, checking a timer here, turning a stovetop down there, popping leftover bits from the cutting board into their mouth. you remind them before they can burn whatever's in the oven; they throw a "what would i do without you?" over their shoulder, laughing. it's safe here, a golden bubble of warmth for just the two of you to rest in. they nudge you to put just a little more in your bowl— you had a long day, surely you're hungry? they want their love to be well fed ♡ definitely not because they're itching to watch you eat their cooking and see you sated and happy and half falling asleep on their shoulder, no sir

Villain f/os...so so good...they take over the world for you then kiss kiss you goodnight. Tell them somebody hurt you and theyll immediately comfort you and then chase whoever hurt you. Have them be a strong leader or one of the most feared, who kisses you at night and wont let you go while sleeping because clingy and protective...villain f/o's...

TW: intrusive thoughts. self-hate and -doubt. insecurity.

—- + -—

I’ve always seen countless F/O imagines with a repeated (and correct) theme of “Your F/O loves you.” Let’s make it known that I appreciate that, I really do, but…

What happens the moment the Voices in your head ask “Why?”

“You don’t even know my F/O! I doubt they’d love me. And even in the slim chance they did, I don’t see a reason why they’d love this half-human screw up—”

Stop.

Breathe.

I assure you that your F/O doesn’t care if this is the 9,999th time you come to them, they'll always be there because you make their life brighter just by being. Try to exist— right here, right now— for a minute or two and whittle those voices away to the best of your ability (and don’t worry if the best you can do is “nothing”). Your F/O can see how hard you’re trying, but they aren’t with you because they think you can move mountains; they yearn to share their life with you because you’re you. Dear reader, there is simply no other reason.

Your F/O won’t think twice about your trauma, whether it comes from a horror-like past or because you stared passive-aggressively at a dog the other day and feel guilty about it. They just know it affects you and they won’t hesitate to comfort (and spoil) you like there’s no tomorrow. Your F/O doesn’t care if you feel like you’re going through Hell everyday and “whine about it too much” or are “too clingy”, they’re your safe space. They’re perfectly content knowing that when you falter, they’ll be there to catch their beloved and give you a place to rest your head, if only for a minute.

Your F/O sees you in a way you can’t imagine. They accept every magnificent part of you that you call a flaw, thanking whatever celestial force they believe in that they have the pleasure of knowing you. Those Voices inside your head are lying, and just the idea of them being right is something your F/O could never fathom, but they’ll more than happily rush to prove to you how wrong the Voices are.

Your F/O has no wish to stop sweeping those incorrect thoughts away, so please let them. They full-heartedly know they’re doing important work.

advice: imagine you info dumping to your f/o. do it. imagine them smiling as they listen to you ramble and the questions they'd ask to get you to keep going. imagine them telling you that they love when you go on like this because they just love your passion. even if its something they don't *really* understand or have any stake in. you're just so enthusiastic! how can they not love you when you do that?

TW: suicidal ideation.

—- + -—

“You shouldn’t need to worry,” you had assured them, holding back the cracks in your voice as a remorseful grin splayed across your lips unwillingly, “I… I’m not essential. Even if I did do it, I’m sure you’d be fine. You’d just realise you never needed me after all.”

I’m sorry to say, but the humour only left a bitter taste in your F/O’s mouth— never because of you, but something in their core boils at the thought. A thousand dreams and futures play in their mind, yet they never find a possibility in which they wouldn’t be devastated at what you had referenced. Living a full life with your time together cut so short? Because you had been fighting yourself for so long and they failed to notice?? Because they failed to help and show you how much they love you???

No, just the thought feels wrong.

They wouldn’t stand for it.

This flashes through their mind in a nanosecond. They won’t treat you like you’re made of glass, yet it’s obvious from the way your F/O wraps their arms around you and lets you rest with them as they gaze sadly at their beloved that you’re their most treasured jewel. They won’t be scared off by the breakdowns or vents or numb days; you’ve chosen them out of trillions of others and still loved them so beautifully. How would their thoughts ever linger on leaving you, especially when they have the chance to show how deep their devotion runs?

Your F/O wouldn’t think twice about holding you on the bad days and reminding you of your limits, wouldn’t hesitate to be your pillar of strength when the world tries to slip hatred under your door, would never despise you for seeking help when you need rest after your lifelong fight. You survived for so long, and your rest is long overdue. You never asked for these scars, but your F/O is determined to embrace and care for each and every one of them.

After all, you’re their hero.

TW: past abuse. trauma theme.

—- + -—

Whatever happened in the past, it robbed you of something. Choices were so fickle, people were so hard to please, and it took a great toll on you blindly walking on eggshells everyday.

You should’ve seen the look in your F/O’s eyes when they learnt of this. It wasn’t a crazy or disgusted look, never. It was just… hollow and lost. A labyrinth of feelings spearing through them: rage at the person(s) who did this, painful vulnerability that they weren’t there to shield their beloved, utter confusion at why anybody would even dare to think such things of you— much less act them out… and determination. The determination to show you that you can and have proved your abuser wrong.

Your F/O is there to commemorate the good days. They’ll greet each beautiful morning and send off each graceful night with your stunning smile in mind. Even when the moment comes that you doubt your past, they make sure to come close — whether literally or figuratively — and list off all of the amazing things you were able to do despite the pain brought by people who were supposed to cherish you (even if you think the only remarkable thing you did was getting out of bed for two seconds.) The past tried to destroy you, and you endured even when it seemed hopeless. It’s okay to rest now, your F/O loves each and every “broken” part of you.

Your F/O is there to remind you you’re not alone when the world has chosen you to play Atlas. No matter how much you could try to convince them otherwise, they’ll always reply with a gentle (yet pointed) look, because “Even if this is you being a burden, I’d still carry something ten times heavier just to spend a few moments with you.” They’ll encourage you to allow yourself soft moments… coax you to let down your walls around them— as far as you’re comfortable, of course… happily give you small reasons to greet each day alongside them… ease in each and every awe-inspiring thing about you so you can at least see a fraction of yourself the way they see you…

Your F/O is simply, endlessly, lovingly there.

Okay not one of my official imagines but I can’t get over the thought of your F/O gently laying their fingertips under a mug to help you drink.

Oh, wait… context…

So, if you’re a person who trembles (for me it’s anxiety and Life that causes it, but just for any reason), then imagine your F/O noticing. They don’t act patronizing, but they can see the frustration building between your brows when the cup you’re trying to drink from looks like it’s containing a tsunami, the shaking walls of the cup clashing against your teeth as you try to take sips.

Imagine them silently sitting/laying next to you, perhaps as you’re fighting raging tears that make you shy away from them. Imagine the soft touch of your F/O’s fingers just barely grazing over your hand and grounding you, bearing the cup’s weight so you can drink in peace and take a breather (like you deserve). It’s not seen as a grand gesture, just a wordless exchange where they saw you struggling and wanted to make life that much easier for you.

me: Welp, time to write S/I into my first selfship fic with F/O! Can’t wait to see how fluffy it’s going to turn out!

~ one… fic… later… ~

me: As it turns out, S/I is barely breathing because of a stab wound and F/O is covered in their blood as they sob S/I’s name.

Imagine your parental f/o(s) singing Graham’s Lullaby (King’s Quest) to you…

Imagine your F/O… but imagine them flawless.

Their dorky rambles you can’t help but pay close attention to, even if you have no idea what they’re about? Nope. The smirk you love so much, perhaps that chuckle of theirs? Forget it. All of those little “imperfections”: their tragic past, their cockiness, their flawed looks? None of that.

Except… It feels wrong now. This isn’t your F/O; this is a mundane, stereotypical, so-horribly-wrong shell.

You didn’t fall in love with a perfect being because your F/O is perfect to you. It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it? To feel such a dedicated, yearning, unrelenting love for someone with their flaws, not despite them. Even if they can’t see it in themselves, you’d never dream of them being a regret or a mistake. Your F/O is just so imperfectly them.

… So why would your F/O ever wish for a “flawless” you?

Yes, all that was said about them in the paragraphs above applies to you. No matter how hard it may be to believe it, your F/O wants you with all your “burdens”. They want you through breakdowns and panic attacks, through triggers and relapses. They want to be your comfort, your light in the darkness, your strength.

They’re just so happy they get the honor of being with their beloved, someone who is so imperfectly you.

A muttered curse interrupts you and your F/O’s conversation. Where soft words were once flowing so lightly in the morning kitchen light, a tense silence now stood.

“…F/O?”

Your beloved rushes to the nearest sink, dipping their hand under the rushing tap water. “That knife— Love, could you get me a band-aid?”

Your heartbeat quickens, yet you retrieve the nearest first-aid your F/O might need, soft words whispered as your body presses up against theirs. Think about how vulnerable they allow themself to be with you, eyes shying away from their cut. So relaxed and loving, they wholly trust in you to take care of them. Despite the blood or equivalent that might be coming from the cut, you gingerly cover it with the utmost care— so focused, you probably missed that soft gaze and appreciative blush your F/O is helpless to hide.

“And… boom. Disaster averted.” You give their ‘wound’ one last look until you send a reassuring smile your beloved’s way.

“Thank you, love.” Maybe the words were barely audible in their stoic silence as they attempted to rip their flustered gaze away from you, or they had a grin of their own just by being so tenderly cared for by none other than their favorite person. “Now I have to figure out how to cut those—”

Your soft hold on their wrist stops them from turning away. “Wait! You forgot the last step.”

“What?” they reply, a clueless gaze directed at their own finger.

“This…” You clasp your F/O’s hurt hand oh-so gingerly, yet your velvet-like touch against their skin leaves electricity dancing up and down their arm. You leave a feather-soft kiss against their band-aid, then pressing your lips to their knuckles, too. Your F/O — no matter how stoic or flirty they normally might be — freezes in a heartstring-pulling stupor, having to perform a full reboot (whether literally or figuratively) before they can even think of stuttering out a response. All they can see is you, the love of their life, and there’s nothing they’d rather be graced with.

They’d ask how someone like them ended up with an ethereal being like you, but they don’t want to tempt the fates. Your F/O would much rather spend their time basking in your presence, endlessly thankful for being able to exist alongside you.

You’re tired.

Worn out, yes… but also tired of coming to your F/O broken, getting comforted — if either by soothing words or their gentle touches — and coming back to them the next day, re-broken with the same problem like a machine in disrepair.

Why would your F/O stick around to watch the same train wreck? To watch their patience and love be wasted every time you are sent off to meet the thing or person that searches to tear you down? What opportunity do they see in trying to weather away a cruelty that is already done and will be done again and again?

Why are they here?

However, dear reader, it’s a different matter to your F/O. To put it simply, they care for you deeply. Light fills every crack and crevice in them where darkness once took root just when they see your eyes shine in that unique way when you're whisked too far away into your passion to notice them being so drunk on their love. When the tide of despair rises, you won’t be deserted. Even when you’ll inevitably wake up, eyes rimmed with loss of sleep and regret… your F/O will still be beside you to whisk away your doubts, like you’ve done for them so many times.

You’re not hard work that’s ruined or hours of someone else’s day being wasted. You’re already a masterpiece in your F/O’s eyes, and if they have to assure you everyday for the next eternity just to see how bright your colors truly are— to flip off the world’s cruelty and make you forget your troubles, they gladly would. You’re not a chore to them, you’re their beloved, their treasure.

Your F/O would kiss away every wound and curse the world for not treating you kindly. No matter how many times your faith in the world shakes, they’ll always stand beside you during the tremors and hold your hand.

Your F/O would take a “No” from you and promptly back off the second that word falls from your lips.

Your F/O would make sure to check with you and ask for your consent before even trying to speak on your behalf.

Your F/O would listen, not speak over you or trample over your words to get to their own point.

Your F/O would never try to weasel out a different response from you or wear you down until you buckle at their every whim.

After all, you are the one they adore.

They don’t want to mold you into the neighbour down the street, the flawless person you wish you could be, nor the character you think they should pick over you. Nothing — no amount of “merciful” lies, acts, or people-pleasing — will ever be as magnificent in their eyes as you simply existing. Even if you can’t see it, their love-stricken words and/or yearning gaze are only for you.

And when your “home” finally grows tired of slipping hatred under your door? Your F/O will rest beside you. Perhaps the others in your life have done the exact opposite of the four statements I made at the start, but your beloved wants you to know that they would silence the whole world just to make your voice heard.

Imagine your F/O gently yet sternly telling you that “Whatever you want” can’t always be your answer. While it might’ve been pleasing for others to hear, they’ll try their hardest to coax solid “Yes” or “No” answers from you, to get to know you as you are and never as what the others wanted you to be. You might not completely know yourself, but your F/O would never hesitate to look for your true colors beside you.

They want to familiarise themself with every thought and feeling that you are willing to share with them. Your F/O is simply honored that you want to sail the seven seas of your self-discovery with them. And when the fates inevitably send a storm your way? They’ll always be your anchor, your place to rest.

… Maybe the true home you were searching for is much closer than you previously thought.

TW: past abuse. abandonment issues. self-doubt. intrusive thoughts. self-hate statments that S/I believes but are not true. trust issues (kinda). 750+ words.

— - + - —

You had exposed yourself to your F/O. You showed them your raw, emotional, troubled self… but they were still here. Something in your mind doesn’t fit right, panic rising as it washes over the euphoria you had experienced alongside your beloved under their tender care.

Because they were there.

Why hadn’t your F/O left? Why had they stayed so long? So many had abandoned you by this point, why don’t they? Is there an endgame to this? You are a freak, a horror, a traumatized lump of human flesh… You’ll poison them… Why can’t they just see that and leave already? (Not to mention the other side of your raging mind: the one on its knees, the one that grovels and begs and dehumanizes itself into a living joke just to have another person give you a second of attention…)

Deep down, you know why the thoughts are there.

You are expecting abandonment.

Every moment your F/O welcomes you into their warm embrace oh-so cruelly, you know you’re falling further and further for them. But you can’t allow yourself to do that.

You are expecting abandonment.

So much so that you make a fool of yourself and show your most vulnerable sides to them and hope it wards your F/O off… because it’s easier to say that they left because of your actions than to wait a lifetime for them only to realize their absence is the only answer you’ll ever get.

You are expecting a—

“Love?”

You dry your tears against your shirt as discreetly as possible, red eyes darting to and fro—  anywhere away from your F/O’s. “…Yeah?” You cringe at the cracks in your own voice, How dare you not be able to hide this better? How dare you burden them?

Your F/O leans closer just the tiniest bit. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, lips pressed tight.

“C’mon, S/I, you’re underestimating me if you think I can’t notice when you’re upset.” They offer a reassuring smile, although it wavers as your guilty lack of response hangs in the still air. “… Just… I won’t force you, okay? But I know you aren’t feeling well, and that it’s not healthy to keep it all in like this.”

Your voice doesn’t disrupt the silence. A single syllable could break down the dam holding back your sobs, God, you’re a crybaby. You’re weak, pathetic.

“Hey, love, could you please look at me?”

Your line of sight wavers, yet it’s your F/O’s gentle hold and their warm gaze that attracts your own like a magnet’s fated pull.

“There you are,” they utter. “You never were, never are, and never will be a burden, S/I, I love you just as you are. This isn’t a punishment and I will never use it against you. I just want to make sure you’re alright… Like all of those times you did the same to me, ok?”

As calm and tender as they are, there are still signs of breakage in your F/O’s voice. They want to banish — perhaps even worse — whoever taught you those self-damaging beliefs in the first place, but your health comes first. When you’re tangled up in barbs of false promises and toxic love, all your F/O wishes to do is untangle you with a touch of silk and show you what warmth is like. They want to chase those swarms of bad thoughts away and kiss your forehead at night when they’re sure the only thing in your mind is soft dreams of carelessness when you finally let yourself feel safe in their arms.

Some time after their reassurances, your walls break— perhaps for the first time in front of them. Maybe it’s loud and messy whilst your F/O gathers you in their arms, or maybe your tears are silent until you succumb and press yourself against their chest.

And by the end?

“Can I ask you… something…?” You hesitate, doubt still plaguing that one place in your mind.

Your F/O places a kiss against your temple. “Always, love.”

“I mean…” Your gaze wanders off. “It’s a bit unnecessary, maybe even childish…”

“As long as it’s you? As long as you think it’s important and it matters to making you feel safe? It’ll never be unnecessary.”

“… Could you promise…?”

They nod and a small, wonderful smile graces their features. “You don’t ever have to worry about me leaving, S/I. I promise that I’ll always be here for you, that you’ll always be worth waiting for.”

TW: suggestions to current abuse.

— - + - —

All the imagines for survivors I’ve seen are a snapshot of the aftermath, of being out and dealing with the beasts lurking in your mind. They hold a special place in my heart, in my deepest wishes for the future, in the scrap of hopeless romanticism I have left.

But this is for the ones who are still There and can’t get out.

It breaks your F/O’s heart when they find out. No matter how it came to be known — from the quietest murmur of truth to a self-deprecating quip others would laugh at — they’ll feel a tug of wrongness, of pain in their core. In times of tears, they’ll hurt with you because you are more than worth hurting for.

You can let yourself unravel in their embrace. All the masks in the world couldn’t work on your F/O; you’re their beloved, not their one-second crush or a toy to discard, and they would never dare to turn a blind eye to your words or your pain. From the texts you can only send at an hour unholy enough to go undetected to the bitter tears that have been forced into silence, they want all of you. Maybe your F/O will pull enough strings to get you away, or perhaps they’re helpless to do anything but whisper truths into your ear when the world tells you you’re worthless, but nothing on this Earth and beyond can dissuade them from being right next to you every step of the way.

They’ll celebrate your strength on the better days, making fun of the sorry people who try to get to you and mockingly plot against them (whether they actually carry out said plan depends on the F/O). They’ll hold you on the worst days where you fear even thinking badly of those who berate you, squeezing your hand and murmuring reassurances in a soft croon. They’ll write down your triggers to keep you safe, remind you to take care of yourself and your body, assure you that a day will come beyond this night and that they’ll liberally treat you like the royalty you are once you’re free.

Your F/O is more than willing to peel away the layers of guilt and hate and doubt with a silk touch, to reach your most vulnerable self and show you unconditional warmth and love.

All you have to do is let them.

Sometimes, the brain gets ugly. Thoughts were never a pretty thing to begin with, coming unannounced. So, I offer this just-as-pretty reminder.

Your F/O misses you when you’re gone, in all senses of the word.

With you, your F/O doesn’t only feel safe, they are safe. When they rest in your arms, all they feel is safety and warmth wrapped around them like the softest of blankets simply because they're listening to, being with, breathing in you. Your words bring nothing but joy to your F/O’s mind, brain humming with fulfillment when you grace them with everything from your mundane tasks to the unexpected highs and lows. You won’t break or taint your F/O, especially not when you define what an angel is to them. The day might drag on behind them, their thoughts might be like lead weights, but how could they ever drag their feet when they know you are the one at the finish line?

Without you, their world would be flavorless. Everything looks dark to your F/O when your smile isn’t there to shine a light on their days, when your comments aren’t there to wrestle a chuckle out of the dreariest nights. No matter if their descent into love started the moment they laid their eyes on you, or if it was slow and lulling, they wish only to stay with you. Why would they want anything else from this life when you teach them what it feels to love so hopelessly, so endlessly every day?

Even if your F/O had all the wishes in the world, they would never even think of using one of them to wish you away.

You were expecting to be cast away the moment your emotions start simmering so painfully. Waiting for your two beloveds to scowl and to spare each other of your burdens, for your tears to dry against the ceiling fan’s sharp gusts… you instead feel one of your F/Os’ chest pressed up against your own form, their breath fluttering over the crook of your shoulder— you feel the other’s hands (perhaps soft or calloused, perhaps cold or warm) lay on your frigid skin as they kiss away the tears that follow.

You curl into yourself, letting out a tired breath and asking them Why are they still here? Still with you?

“Because we love you,” your big spoon reasons simply, tilting themselves away just slightly to litter an unbroken chain of kisses that wraps around your shoulders like a warm scarf that would protect you from the biting winds.

Your lover leans forward to gingerly rest their forehead against yours, face still cradled by their mellow hold. “To show that you don’t have to wait for the other shoe to drop.” Your F/O shepherds more tears away, gentle eyes waiting for yours to meet. “Because we want to show you that you’re loved, and that you deserve all of it. You deserve so much more than how life’s been treating you.”

The furrowed brow and confused stare they get in return makes your lover tsk. Nonetheless, your F/Os continue enveloping your figure, washing away the harsh words burned into your mind with their soft promises and affirmations, two pairs of hands haphazardly stretching a blanket over the three of you. The all-consuming warmth reaches something deeper, a thrall too heavy and comfortable for you to keep your attention on how the world was hiding behind your drooping eyelids.

Your eyes finally slip close, falling endlessly into your mind only to land on the satin echoes of your F/Os’ assurances. The morning might bring the guilt of too many hours slept, the day might come with its challenges, the night might summon your bad dreams— but nothing in this or any other world would deter either of your F/Os from picking up and loving every “broken” piece of you.