#Drabble
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I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.
When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.
When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.
Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.
And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.
Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.
Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.
Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.
That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.
Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.
Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.
Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.
Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.
#batfamily#batfamily headcanons#batman#nightwing#dick grayson#red hood#jason todd#red robin#tim drake#robin dc#damian wayne#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#duke thomas#barbra gordon#batgirl#drabble#batfam#alfred pennyworth#dc comics#comics#superheroes#how many rooms does the manor have? no one knows#i'd assume a lot though#like so many#i hope i did okay with Cass and Duke#i don't know a ton about them
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i think star trek will stay with me forever.
it has injected me with a permanent joy and whimsy and helped me unlearn shame/cringe culture. most importantly, it makes me see the good in humanity.
star trek has affected me in ways i never knew media could affect me. it keeps me optimistic about humanity’s future, and inspires me to do what is right no matter what. star trek makes me unashamed to be myself, however nerdy or silly I may be.
star trek is so important to me and i have a feeling it always will be.
#drabble#star trek#star trek tos#star trek tng#sci fi#humans are inherently good#optimism#cringe culture is dead#gene roddenberry#star trek ds9
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Sitting in front of Lucifer on your bed, you comb your fingers through his hair. His eyes are half closed in a rare moment of vulnerability. He mumbles something about your fingertips feeling nice.
You softly tug on the longer part of Lucifer’s bangs and pin it back using a butterfly clip you plucked from your pocket. Humoring you, Lucifer tilts his head, so it’s easier for you to readjust the clip.
“You’re adorable,” you say, admiring your work.
An unrecognizable look clouds Lucifer’s eyes. It’s not a negative expression, but it reads somewhat as cocky. Almost like he thinks what you said is funny, but in a demeaning way. “Adorable…that’s not a word most people would use to describe me.”
You add a cute heart barrette to the other side of Lucifer’s hair. He lets you. “Aww, do you not like it?” you tease.
“I do not.”
“Really?” you ask, taking out a sticker of a daisy from your pocket.
As you peel off the back, Lucifer turns his cheek toward you. “Really,” he says. You stick the sticker on and press it down with your thumb.
You take out a ponytail holder. “Really really?”
Lucifer has the audacity to huff amusedly through his nose all the while turning his head to let you grab a small chunk of Lucifer’s hair. You tie a cute little ponytail on the top of his head.
“Yes, really really,” Lucifer says with only a tiny hint of annoyance.
You pull out a ribbon from your pocket and don’t even say anything when Lucifer immediately lowers his head.
#obey me#drabble#lucifer x reader#mc#lucifer#a fun trope is Lucifer thinking he’s in control#when he very much isn’t
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Zhongli watches you emerge from the bathroom dramatically - and laughs when he sees how you've draped your white towels to match the robes of Rex Lapis statues.
"You dare laugh, mortal one?" you boom, waddling over to him and slamming a hand against the wall. You had intended to pin him against the wall sexily, but the difference in height and demeanor – his amused and yours a little playful – just makes the whole thing look silly.
"Forgive me," says your husband with a soft chuckle.
"I am Rex Lapis! And I am here to...to do...stuff!"
“How intriguing,” muses Zhongli with a smile. “May this ‘stuff’ of yours yield fruitful results, my lord.”
You huff in what is supposed to be an intimidating manner, strutting over to the other side of the room. "Come, sit on my lap, dear mortal," you command, sitting down and patting your lap.
Zhongli, smug, wastes no time in sinking his weight onto you.
"Oof. Err, I shall use your lap as a throne! Yes! Let me sit on your lap instead."
"As you wish." Your husband doesn't wipe that smug look off his face as he sits down, gently pulling you onto his lap. "Is this better suited, my lord?"
Sinking into his embrace easily, you sigh in delight. "Oh, absolutely. This is perfect, mortal. You have greatly pleased me."
He squeezes you lovingly. "A thousand appreciations."
You puff your chest out importantly. "As a reward, feel free to ask me for whatever you heart desires."
Smiling softly, Zhongli mulls it over. "How about a nice, warm embrace? One that lasts five minutes at least."
You hug him tight. "Granted." Your arms wrap around him, and you feel him nuzzle you in contentment. All seems peaceful and well.
Except, he's squeezing you in all the right places - and your towel is coming loose.
“My towel - I mean, my robe is slipping!”
“Oh?” Zhongli raises an eyebrow. “So it is.”
“I must adjust it!”
“So it seems.”
“So let me go!”
Zhongli smiles into your skin. “I had requested an embrace that would last five minutes at minimum. It has hardly been a minute. And as the God of Contracts, surely you must keep to your word, yes?”
“Fuuuuck!”
“Such language from a god, oh dear,” tuts Zhongli, grinning.
This might just be the last time you ever roleplay as your dear old archon.
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gonna just drop a bulletpoint story out there because this aint a lot to go off of but you're soooo right, speak your truth i love you. you're putting two of my favorite things together, ratio and kitsune / foxes
♡ kitsune! ratio who got eight tails, some joke its one tail for each subject that he's graduated college with a master's degree for
♡ he's really is far more playful than people give him credit for, although in his own deadpan kind of way
♡ like, no, he doesn't outright make jokes, but he'll say stuff that goes over people's heads and then loudly exclaim " why do i even bother ?! " with a feigned annoyance, but it's okay because its ratio and it's cute
♡ he really takes the ' sly fox ' thing to heart. i mean, he already works in the shadows, sly is just a part of who he is
♡ but he is still a good person !! people may often assume that he's not because of how he acts and they attribute that to being a kitsune, but he really does care about humans
♡ especially one stupid little human who likes to visit the shrine he lives at a lot
♡ yeah, you caught his attention, but he would much rather die than admit that to you
♡ he doesn't say anything when you offer him the good tuna while he's in his fox form, even though it irks him a little bit because he's a fox, you moron, not a wild cat
♡ shouldn't you be trying to run away from him anyways ? why are you so brazen about walking up to a fox ? don't you know that they're wild animals and they can hurt you if they wanted to ?
♡ you're so lucky that he doesn't want to, otherwise it would be a problem on your side
♡ he eats the tuna every time you bring it for an offering, enjoying it even though he bites back a snarky comment every single time
♡ he's smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds him. his shrine is so far out into the woods that you're really the only one who comes to visit him from time to time, something that he was silently grateful for
♡ he's not tied to the shrine, he can leave if he wanted to, and he's often out and about doing whatever he wanted to, usually finding a hapless human like you and quietly guiding them towards a better solution
♡ but you liked to visit the shrine every wednesday, so he made sure he was there every wednesday
♡ why ? because he wanted to
♡ when he finally revealed his true form to you, it was purely to educate you on something stupid that you had done, at least that's what he told himself
♡ you'd gotten cut by the bramble out in the forest while making the trip to him, and so of course he had to show his true form to bandage your wounds, that was only proper of him
♡ while biting your ear off about not even worrying about the wound until you were at the shrine. what if it got infected, or worse ? you truly were a foolish human
♡ all eight of his tails are angrily flicking the ground below him as he patches you up the best he can, meanwhile berating you for your idiocy, something that he cant stand
♡ and you're just smiling like a moron, too, despite being injured ! he can't wrap his head around you !
♡ finally, once youre all taken care of, he has to ask why you offer him food, when he just looked like a regular fox to you at the shrine
♡ possibly the most annoying thing ever, you don't have a good answer. no profound understanding, just because you want to
♡ he's so frustrated with you he's sure he may pop a blood vessel, and you offer to leave, but he tells you to stay. it would've made the trip and your injury meaningless if you left so suddenly without staying for anything
♡ and when the sun begins to set, you find him... following you away from the shrine ?
♡ ask him what he's doing and he's just going to give you a simple answer, and if this should've been common knowledge to you all along, and you were an idiot for asking
♡ " of course, someone has to watch over you to make sure you don't accidentally get yourself killed. "
— ♡ rationaliity 2024
#honkai star rail#hsr fanfic#honkai sr#dr ratio#honkai star rail x reader#x reader#hsr x reader#veritas ratio#hsr dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#drabble#ratio x reader#star rail#hsr veritas#veritas ratio x reader#veritas x reader
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He’s not sure why he even comes to these parties anymore. He used to sell at the frat houses, made his rounds until he was out of product, made more money than any minimum wage job he could find near campus.
But he hasn’t in a while. Months, at this point.
It’s just that every time he came to one of these idiotic showing of riches and popularity, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen was sitting in the corner of the kitchen watching with a faraway look in his eyes. Sometimes he stood in a group of people in the living room, but never contributed to the conversation. Once, Eddie saw him swinging his feet back and forth in the water of the hot tub on the back patio with three different couples making out inside it, completely zoned out.
Eddie needs to keep an eye on him. Hence, he attends the stupid parties.
And it’s stupid, to go through so much trouble for a guy he doesn’t even know, who probably doesn’t even notice him back. It’s stupid, but Eddie’s never claimed to be very bright.
Which is probably why he walks up to the guy when he’s about two seconds from punching Tommy Hagan, grabs his wrists, and tugs.
“The fuck are you?” He asks Eddie, reasonably confused and angry at being interrupted by a stranger.
Eddie could feel his pulse against his fingers, swore he could feel a spark of electricity flow between them.
“Eddie. Just leave him. Whatever he did isn’t worth it,” he said through clenched teeth.
His fingers tightened around Steve’s wrists as he considered trying to pick him up, throw him over his shoulder, and walk out of this party entirely.
“How the hell do you know?” Steve wasn’t trying to pull away.
Eddie didn’t let himself think about that too much.
“I just know nothing Hagan does is ever worth trouble for you. C’mon,” Eddie tugged on his wrists again, and this time, it seemed to catch the guy off guard.
“Didn’t know you were into freaks, Harrington,” Tommy said as they took a few steps away from him. “If you’re gonna be gay, you could at least have taste.”
Eddie froze.
The guy, Harrington, tried to pull his wrists loose, but Eddie didn’t let him.
He turned to Tommy, the guy who almost got him arrested for selling at his party only a few months ago, and smirked.
If he was gonna out someone to a stranger, Eddie had no problem doing the same right now.
“And you just sucked my dick because you wanted to add it to your résumé?” Eddie grinned at Tommy, who quickly looked around to make sure no one else heard.
“As if I would-“ he tried to say, but Harrington cut him off.
“You forget you say shit when you’re high. You told me about it already. I think your exact words were, ‘he had the best dick I’ve ever seen, Steve.’ Or am I mixing that up with another dick?” Steve pulled one arm loose from Eddie’s grip, brushed hair from his face, and let it relax at his side.
Eddie could let go now, he was sure if anyone would start something at this point it would be Tommy. But Steve wasn’t trying to pull his other wrist loose and Eddie liked the warmth of him in his hand.
“Whatever man, just go. You don’t even wanna be here,” Tommy turned and left before Steve could respond.
Eddie finally let go, but he didn’t like the immediate sense of loss that filled his chest.
“You always interrupt strangers before they fight?” Steve asked him, hands shoved into his pockets.
Eddie really looked at him, inspected him. He only ever saw him at these parties, so the lighting was shit, but he’d noticed the dark shadows under his eyes a while ago. He noticed that he held himself in a way that showed he was always ready for a fight. Steve’s hair had gone flat over the last month or so, not nearly as voluminous or shiny as it had been at the start of the year.
“Are you okay?” He asked instead of answering the question.
“I’m fine, dude.”
Eddie shook his head. “You don’t seem okay.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Just seems like something is bothering you,” Eddie wouldn’t push more, not if Steve was actually gonna get mad. But something told him that nobody pushed Steve to talk enough.
Eddie had Wayne back home, and his friends in his band here, and a couple coworkers at the bar he worked at twice a week now that he could joke around with. Steve didn’t even seem to have the people he hung around with.
“Why does it matter to you if something is bothering me?”
That’s a fair question. Why does it matter to him?
“Maybe because I just wanted to help. That’s what people do, right?”
“Not for me, usually.”
Eddie stepped closer, barely leaving space between them. “Well, I am.”
Steve stared back at him, shoulders dropping and eyes losing that angry fire.
“Why?”
Eddie was an idiot sometimes, but he was able to read people pretty well. It’s what kept him safe for most of middle and high school, and made him friends in college.
He knew what it looked like to be lonely and depressed, and Steve had check marks next to both of those.
“You wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked, once again avoiding his question.
“And go where?”
“I’ll show you my favorite getting high spot.”
“I don’t really smoke with strangers,” Steve seemed nervous.
“You don’t have to smoke. I’m just gonna show you the place.”
He watched Steve think about it, noting the way his brows scrunched together, how he bit his bottom lip, how he looked at the ground instead of at Eddie.
“Fine. But if you murder me in the woods, my mom will have you hanged,” Steve finally said.
“Hanged? Do they even do that anymore?”
Steve giggled. “Probably not. But she’d find a way.”
“Well, I’ve got no interest in murdering you, big boy.”
The blush that filled Steve’s cheeks was stunning. A perfect pink dusting his skin, giving him a healthier glow than what he’d had for a while.
“What do you have interest in?”
Eddie could say any number of things to flirt, make his true intentions clear, maybe even go straight back to his single dorm instead of showing Steve anywhere.
But Eddie figured that’s all Steve was used to, or maybe he was always the one who had to put an effort into things.
Maybe he wasn’t used to getting treated like a human being.
“I’d like to get to know you. Parties like this aren’t really a good place to learn about someone’s favorite song or what they snack on when they wake up in the middle of the night.”
Steve seemed shocked by this answer, but his features quickly melted into a soft smile, one Eddie would want to see every single day.
“Fine. But it’s not a date,” Steve held out his hand, ready to be led.
Instead of lacing his fingers with Steve’s, or even just grabbing his hand in his palm, he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist again.
“We’ll see.”
———
On graduation day, Steve and Eddie found their way back to their spot, one they’d probably never visit again.
Eddie’s fingers were curled around Steve’s wrist as they stood facing each other, close enough to feel each other’s breaths against their lips.
Nearly two years together, nearly 300 trips to this spot, and more than 500 dates that they never called dates.
And it was just the beginning.
Eddie leaned in to press his lips to Steve’s gently, keeping it soft so they wouldn’t get carried away.
They had to meet Wayne at the Italian restaurant in less than an hour and then Steve’s mom expected them back at Steve’s apartment for a wine and dessert celebration.
They wouldn’t be properly alone like this again for at least a couple days, but they didn’t have time to do much about it right now.
“I love you,” Eddie whispered as he rested his forehead against Steve’s.
“I love you, too,” Steve said back.
He didn’t have dark shadows under his eyes anymore, spending more nights sleeping in bed with Eddie than awake at parties he didn’t want to be at. His hair had most of its shine back. He’d put on a few pounds after joining the gym again, using it as an outlet for stress instead of hiding in corners at parties where he would drink just enough to get buzzed four times a week.
He made friends with Eddie’s friends, plus some of his own when he got a part time job at the coffee shop on campus.
Steve never spoke to Tommy again, at least as far as Eddie knew. He didn’t seem interested in being his friend again, and once he told Eddie more about their “friendship”, he couldn’t really blame him.
“You ready to go see Wayne?” Steve asked him, probably more excited than even Eddie was.
Wayne and Steve bonded quickly and they’d probably spend most of the lunch talking about sports and where they would go fishing this summer.
Eddie nodded, but he pulled something from his pocket before Steve could pull away and start walking back to the car they now shared.
“What’s that?” Steve asked, pointing towards the envelope in Eddie’s hand.
“It’s a gift from me to you. Well, I guess both of us, but I really got it for you.”
He handed it to Steve, who opened it quickly.
He pulled out the paper inside and Eddie watched his eyes fly across the words written there.
“Eddie.”
“Stevie.”
“You got us a trip to Italy? How the fuck did you get us a trip to Italy?” Steve was looking at him, eyes wet with tears.
“Doesn’t matter how. Wayne gave us some money for it, so did your mom. I’ve been saving for a year. Want us to have something special before we have to start working.” Eddie kissed his forehead. “Plus I want any excuse to see you in some of those see-through linen shorts.”
Steve’s lips were on his, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist to hold him there.
“I’ll wear them every day,” he gasped as he leaned in for another kiss.
Eddie laughed. “You won’t hear any complaints from me, sugar.”
“I can’t believe you did this. All I got you was a t-shirt.”
“You know I love t-shirts. I know you love Italy. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but kissed him again.
His eyes widened. “Oh my god. Are you gonna propose in Italy?”
Eddie snorted. “Why would I answer that question?”
“Because! I have to know!”
“Why?”
“So I can make sure I have a nice outfit for pictures, dumbass.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see. You look good in everything,” Eddie kissed the top of his head before he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist and tugged on it once. “Let’s get to Wayne before he sends a search party.”
Eddie smiled to himself as they walked to the car, Steve’s rambling about what he wanted to do in Italy keeping his mind from wandering too far. He couldn’t help thinking about the ring he had stashed away in his guitar case, though.
Italy was the perfect place to propose.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#idk I needed to get this off the notes app#but I just think Eddie taking Steve away from his very sad popular rich kid life is exactly how it goes in every universe#very Aladdin of him actually#drabble
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When I Say Run 1
Warnings: dark elements, such as chasing and kidnapping.
Note: I do appreciate all your feedback if you read this. I will hopefully have the next few part done soon. I don't intend this to be very much more than three or so parts.
Inspired by @navybrat817's Monday Thot
You've seen the man before. Often the market is overcrowded enough that you rarely see the same face twice, but you recognize him at once. His deep blue eyes are hard to forget along with the grim shadow cast over his unaltered and unamused expression. You know him because he always seems to know you.
More than once, you caught him watching you. At first, you convinced yourself he was looking past you, or through you, as it felt. But he doesn't look away that day, you do.
You move to the next stall to examine some figs. You realise why you really noticed him. He doesn't belong. What it seems, by his fraying ball cap and canvas jacket, is that he is hiding from someone.
The more you think about him, the more uneasy you are. How is it that you see him every time you come to the market? You come early and he is there, late and he is there. The coincidence feels too canny to be believed.
Still, you aren’t convinced it is more than that. You get carried away and make up ridiculous hypotheticals in your mind. There are many who come to the market every weekend. You probably run into a dozen people over and over and never even realise it. Why then, does he stick out in your mind?
You grab a carton of cherries and a couple of peaches. You pay and take your change, brushing against someone as you pull your hand back. You feel something fall on your foot and kneel down to help gather the dropped plums. The man’s gloved fingers touch the bruises on the skin and you hold back a gasp as you look him in the face.
“Sorry,” you utter as you hand him a dark plum, “I didn’t see you there.”
You stand as he takes the fruit and slip your own into your cloth bag. You sling it over your shoulder as he assures you it's fine but you don’t wait for a conversation. You hadn’t even noticed him get that close. Before, he was well across the plaza with a horde between you. That he moved that fast, so seamlessly is eerie.
You enter a tent a few stalls down and pretend to admire the patterned china of a teapot. There is a putrid taste in your mouth, the rotten flavour of paranoia on your dry tongue. You check the tag on the pot and leave without purchase.
You look around as you emerge back into the late morning sun, the heat of the crowd adding to the sheen of sweat over your brow. You clear your throat as you don’t see the man and keep your head down as you resign yourself to your light haul. You will feel better once you got home.
You weave through the swarm to the edge of the market and dip down the side street as the hum of voices fades behind you. Your apartment is a few blocks down, nestled above a bookstore cafe. It's s humble and affordable, but you can’t complain.
You pull out your change purse as you near the shop but as you reach the front door, it swings open before you can reach for it. It’s him. Again. The leather gloves, the vibrant irises, the dark shanks of hair that frame his squared jaw. He is striking in more ways than one.
You thank him as he holds the door and enter the small shop. You’re nervous. You can get your coffee and wait him out. You don’t want to lead him back to your apartment just above. Or you could lead him on a chase through the city until you lose him and circle back. Your mind races as you try to convince yourself you’re overreacting but you just can’t.
You order your cinnamon blend but the man once more curtails you. He hold a bill out to the cashier and grits for her to keep the change.
“Sir, you don’t have to--”
“I’d like to buy you a coffee,” he insists as he waves the bill at the cashier, “want something sweet to go with it?”
His accent is subtle. He doesn’t speak your language naturally but he does it well. You shake your head and step away from the till. He follows you to the corner where you await your order.
“You can have the coffee,” you say, “I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” he asks. His bluntness makes you squirm.
“I have a boyfriend,” you lie as you rub your neck, “here--”
You unclasped your coin purse and he stops you, squeezing your hand until the clasp clicks shut. “No, you don’t,” he says, “it’s my treat.”
“I don’t want it,” you recoil from him and repeat, “I’m not interested.”
You make to brush by him and he catches your arm, “why not?”
“Because,” you jerk away from him, “why are you following me?”
“Following you?” he scoffs, “you feel special, don’t you?”
“No, I told you, I have a boyfriend.”
“You know, when you lie,” he says, “I can see it…” he hovers his finger along your throat, “right there. Your pulse picks up.”
You push his hand away and sidle past him. You’re shaking as you hurry to the door and look back. He watches you but stays where he is. Your order is called and he turns to grab it. You leave under the chime of the door and peer up and down the street.
You go to the left, heading for the market to hide among the sea of people. It will give you time to figure out what to do next. The station is on the other side of the plaza, you could probably get there without much trouble. That will scare him away.
Your footsteps echo around you like a movie scene. You grip your bag on your shoulder and stop short as a figure appears from the alleyway. You can hear the market just ahead of you, just one corner away.
“You forgot your coffee,” the man says as he blocks your path, “don’t you know that it’s rude to refuse a gift?”
You swallow and back away, speechless. You glanc around. How did he move so fast? You spin on your heel and walk in the other direction. You listen for him behind you but when you dare to peek over your shoulder, he is gone.
You quiver and hook around the next corner, hoping to loop to the west entrance of the market. He’s there too. He tilts his head as he grins and tosses the coffee so it spills down the brick wall. You retreat away from the splash and blink at him dumbly. The street is mostly empty but you hear someone else.
You spin back and fight not to break into a sprint. That time, you don’t look back. You head back along the same way you came but turn down another street before you get to the alley. A metal rattle sounds from overhead as a blur drops down in front you from the rickety fire escape above. The man fixes his hat and chuckles.
“I think you should start running,” he taunts.
You nearly trip over your heels as you rear back. Fear bubbles in your chest and you fall into a run, spurred by his ominous timbre. The bag bounces against your side as you squeeze your change purse in your other hand, feet hitting the old brick road heavy and hard. You stumble as you glance back but find no pursuit.
You slow as your chest burns and stop to catch your breath. It take a moment to get your bearings. You bend over and gulp. You straighten up and face the street behind you, searching for the man in the grey jacket. There is only a couple holding hands and a group of young boys giggling as they kick around a beaten football.
You look up along the rooves of the buildings and the balconies. You don’t see anything. You shake your head and puff. Fucking creep. Probably just wanted to scare you.
You don’t go back to your apartment right away. You’re too agitated for that. You can’t help but look around every few steps and peek down every alley and street before you pass. It’s a good forty minutes before you realise you're lost. You never come to this part of town.
You swear under your breath and cringe. You should have gone to the precinct like you planned. You were so panicked you didn’t think. You were more focused on getting away than getting safe.
You drop your change purse into your jumbled bag of cherries and peaches. You reach into your pocket and your heart drops. You search both pockets. Your phone must have fallen out when you were running.
You resign yourself to a listless trail back home through the urban maze. You could figure it out, there has to be a map around here somewhere. You are sure you just passed one a moment ago.
You start down the street and mourn the loss of your phone. That would take a while to replace with your lousy wages. Fuck. Why didn’t you buy the warranty?
The roar of a motorcycle cuts through the din of the city streets and echoes all around you. You ignore it and follow the sidewalk as you squint at the street signs above. You try to find something familiar, something to find your way.
Suddenly you're taken off your feet, a crushing grip knots the back of your shirt as you're hurtled forward. You scream as the brickwork hazes beneath you and suddenly the engine revs and you’re turned sharply with its motion. You float just above the ground, dangling from your shirt.
You looked up in confusion, the strength of the man holding you with one arm sends ice through your veins. The twinkling eyes, the angle of his jaw, and the slight curve of his lips makes you wince. He thrusts you closer and bends you over the front of the motorcycle so that you're trapped between him and the tank.
“Better tuck those feet in,” he warns as you're folded over the metal on your stomach, “I told you to run.”
He veers suddenly and the momentum pushes you against him as you clung to the bike, wind whipping your face as it hovers before the dingy pipes of the bike. It feels as if you’ll fly off at any second. You reach to grasp onto the man's jacket as you clench every muscle of your body to keep from slipping.
The engine rips through the air as your head spins. You have a choice; fall off and die or hang on and live.
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#drabble#series#captain america#winter soldier#avengers#mcu#marvel#bucky barnes x reader
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”What is it now, Harrington?”
”I want your knot.”
Eddie acted like he didn’t just almost choke onto his drink and slowly leaned against the back of his chair, putting all that grown confidence he had on as he slowly looked the omega up and down.
”Didn’t you say the last time that it was a mistake? And the time before that,” Eddie chuckled and Steve rolled those big eyes of his before pushing the table from in front of him so he could sit onto Eddie’s lap.
Eddie didn’t even care that his planned DnD campaign was ruined on the table because Steve’s weight on his lap was always more exciting.
”Stop talking shit and fuck me.” Steve groaned, but Eddie could hear the whining omega from under all that nonsense. It made his alpha purr.
”You really need to stop with these mind games, Stevie. First you want me, then it’s a mistake and then you’re back again begging me to breed yo-”
Steve slaps a hand on top of Eddie’s mouth and lets out a small growl ”, Eddie.”
A warning. How cute.
But, Eddie takes it and slowly moves his hands to squeeze Steve’s ass, feeling the wet spot on his jeans.
Steve moans on top of him and starts to grind his ass onto Eddie’s hands which just makes Eddie squeeze him harder while his other hand dips under the denim and into the other’s slick hole.
”A-alpha, yes!”
When Steve rides him, he’s hard and fast. Desperate. And Eddie loves it.
He loves how he can just hold on to those strong legs as the omega whines and cries for his knot, how he wants Eddie to breed him, make him full.
Steve was easy, but so was Eddie and especially for the gorgeous omega on top of him that he has the privilege to call his boyfriend, his mate.
”Got it out of your system, sweetheart?” Eddie asked after his knot had finally popped, making Steve a happy omega.
”Yeah…” Steve nods, hole clenching on the big knot inside him ”, But this will never happen again. I’m serious, Munson.”
”’kay, whatever you say.” Eddie hums, smiling when Steve laughs on top of him before leaning down to kiss Eddie’s sweaty forehead.
#Love them doing a little roleplaying#Makes it fun#💕🩷💕🩷💕🩷#Omega!Steve and Alpha!Eddie is so good#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie post#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#drabble#my writing#steddie fandom#steddie#stranger things#st#headcanon#hc#hairfreak#steve x eddie
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“ guilty as sin? ,,
jj maybank x fem!reader.
IN WHICH you and jj don’t know how to face each other after he drunkenly tells you to leave your boyfriend for him.
a/n — this is my first JJ fic but hopefully of many so lmk what else y’all wanna see 🤭🤭
✨masterlist.✨
3.4k.
After the week you’d had, you never thought JJ would be the one gracing your presence. You never anticipated being stuck in silence with him like this. Typically, his company was welcomed. He was your safe space, your home. Your best friend. Quiet with him was something you always looked forward to.
Although, last weekend certainly changed that.
You two hadn’t spoken in a week. It was the longest you’d gone without talking to him since your parents moved to figure eight in the fourth grade; even then, that was only two days. You and JJ grew up neighbors before that. It was written in the stars that you were meant to be in his life, engraved in your bones. To grow up together, to laugh and cry together and to fall way too hard for him. And you knew JJ was messy. Messy and complicated and never someone you could tie down.
But he was your best friend.
JJ walked beside you as the sun set further off the shoreline, painfully ignoring the tears slipping down your face and the words bubbling up his throat. He clenched his jaw and grinded his teeth and fiddled with that stupid bandana to avoid wrecking the silence building up between the two of you.
Above all else, your friendship was of utmost importance. Hence why when you’d written a love letter to him for Valentine’s day in the eighth grade and he never responded, you acted like you hadn’t written anything at all. Hence why when Topper Thornton started to give you romantic attention last year, you tapped into it.
A little harmless flirting surely wouldn’t hurt, especially if it meant making JJ jealous. And, of course, he was. But did he say anything? No. And the more time that went on, the more you realized just how harmless being Topper’s girlfriend would be. You’d grown to like him, sure. But he’d never be JJ.
Not even after last weekend’s incident.
JJ held the front door to his house open for you, eyes glued to you like you’d valish if he happened to blink for too long. Despite the two of you not talking for a week, he still didn’t hesitate to answer your phone call when you’d dialed his number earlier. He didn’t hesitate to offer his house–his bed–when you told him your parents were divorcing.
They’d been shouting and arguing and bickering and forgetting your existence for the past week. Your boyfriend graciously offered for you to stay at his, and you had anxiously been waiting for him to send word that you were all clear to head over. But Topper stopped responding. He hadn’t texted you since.
That was three nights ago.
The thought of that sunk into you with edges much more rigid than you’d anticipated. And when JJ left you alone in his room, it finally hit you. Everything you were feeling set into motion, toppling every wall you’d been building down to the floor. Sobs choked their way up your throat and your entire body shook where you stood. You weren’t okay.
And JJ read you like a book. He always did.
You’d been written in a language that only JJ took the time to learn. He knew you better than anyone else did, and you couldn’t fathom how or why.
JJ was quiet when he walked back into his room. The only sound that announced his arrival was the clanking of the glass beer bottles against his wooden desk. He sat down the beverages before pulling you into a hug. He didn’t have to say anything to let you know that he wasn’t expecting you to reciprocate it. He just wanted to be there for you.
Your arms slowly wrapped around him, and he took that as a sign to pull you even closer. He held your head to his chest, stroking his fingers down strands of your hair to say you were safe with him. Vulnerability was a difficult thing for him, but he knew he couldn’t let you break down alone. He’d never let you go through this alone.
He stood there for as long as you needed, and you could tell he’d stay with you like that through the entire night if you’d asked. It was a breath of fresh air that you needed.
When the sobs settled, JJ cupped your cheeks to wipe your tears. He moved your head up to look at him, and finally met your eyes for the first time since he’d picked you up. JJ took you in, looking back and forth between one eye and the other before convincing himself that you were gonna be alright. He was going to make sure of it.
The way you leaned into his touch was a feeling he’d missed. He hadn’t let it hit him just how much he’d missed you, but his week had been rough without you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes fall shut once yours did, and his forehead pressed against your own.
And in that moment, silence fell between the two of you in the way you were used to. It was a silence you’d begun to ache for. Comfortability. Safety. For just a moment, you convinced yourself that everything would work out. Everything was going to be okay, and you had nothing to worry about. You chose to focus on that instead of the looming dread that the moment would end before you wanted it to. You could feel the words gnawing at JJ through the stillness of his breathing.
You’d stored the moment in the depths of your mind, knowing it would be safe there for the time being. It only took a minute before JJ took a hesitant breath, opening and closing his mouth like he knew the damage that he’d cause by breaking the silence.
“Are we never going to talk about it?” His voice was soft; it was a question only meant for the two of you, but the gravity of it sent you spiraling right back to the second he was talking about.
Watching your friends try to walk along the sand whilst tipsy never failed to make you smile. They were such a bunch of idiots, but they were the best kind out there.
You’d agreed that for this beachfront party, you’d be the designated driver. It gave you an opportunity to see just how dumb the lot of you came across when you were intoxicated. It also gave you the opportunity to feel the raw anxiety of how long your boyfriend had left you on delivered for.
“Y/N!” You heard a holler from nearby, looking up from your phone just in time to see JJ nearly trip over a stick in the sand. His stumbling brought you to your feet, walking over to him. He certainly was pie–eyed. He was drunk. He reeked of it. “Shit..” He tried to catch his balance, his barrings, holding onto your arms as you held onto his. “I–I’ve got something to tell you.” JJ slurred.
Your smile fell a bit at how serious he seemed. There was a look in his eyes that told you he was nervous to keep going. “Jay? What’s up?”
His eyes scanned you like they were sober, glistening with something that made your stomach flip. Your breath vanished, your heart leapt, and you felt sinful for the butterflies that he gave you. You felt ashamed.
“Leave him.” The words had more syllables than they were supposed to and were dripping with booze, but they still hit you like they would if delivered any other way. “Leave Topper–” JJ swayed a little too far to his right, almost toppling into you but catching his balance.
The two of you were a dangerous inch apart.
Your eyes met, glancing from one to the other as he glanced at your lips. You felt the world stop. “Leave him cause I…” You watched the struggle in his eyes. He was fighting back demons not to kiss you. “I love you.”
Wide eyes stared back into his own. You’d been waiting years to hear those three simple words from him. Hearing them drunk though felt like a jab to your ego. Part of you felt like it was wrong to accept them.
You thought about it though.
“JJ, you’re drunk.” You had to keep a stern tone with him, placing distance between the two of you. Stepping away to grab some water, his hand met your wrist to pull you back to him.
You didn’t mean to look at him with such a startle, but the way your eyes met, you could tell you’d triggered something in him. Something that might’ve made him feel like he was acting like his father. You watched the way his eyes widened, and gears turned, because he instantly let go of you.
He took steps back, muttering panicked apologies at your frozen figure. You tried to call out to him, to tell him that it was okay. You were okay and he didn’t have to stammer off, but he did. He ran off, and just like that, you didn’t hear from him.
You two didn’t speak until he’d answered your phone call thirty minutes ago. And now you stood toe to toe, chest to chest, head to head. You felt the air thin between the two of you at his question, and let out the breath
that you’d been storing next to the elephant in the room. “I really don’t want to.” You gave an honest answer, keeping your tone as gentle as you could.
As you opened your eyes to meet him looking at you, your head craning up to look at him. Your nose traced the curve of his from the motion, but distance was instant to creep between you when your phone lit up. The screen was face up on his bed and flooded light into his bedroom. You looked towards it, taking paces over to check and see if it was a response from your boyfriend.
Maybe it was wrong of him, but JJ kept his hands on you for as long as he could before you slipped from his grasp. His fingers lingered at your hips, his eyes held you longer than he was able, and he watched the falling of your expression at whatever notification had come popped up on your phone.
His jaw clenched, hands running through his hair as he let out an exasperated sigh he’d been holding onto. “Christ, Y/N.. I can’t keep doing this..” JJ was flustered, both from frustration and whatever effect you’d had over him. He respected the space that stood between you, but never found the strength to look away, even as you caught the angered look in his eyes.
Your brows pressed together, one arching higher than the other. “Keep doing what?” There was both agitation and genuine confusion in your tone, “Does it bother you to see me in a happy relationship?”
JJ scoffed, tongue outlining the inside of his mouth as he fought back a laugh. He stared at the ceiling as if he’d find an answer there other than brute honesty. He was unsuccessful. “Don’t bullshit me. I know you.” His words were short, almost as short as his breath. Almost as short as his temper, yet he was more composed than you were. “I can’t keep watching him hurt you like this.”
He struck a nerve with his words. The sincerity he had, the audacity he had to question your happiness. Hell, you were far from happy; your relationship with Topper was nothing short of toxic and unfulfilling, but JJ calling it out? Like he had ever cared about you more than someone he could chest bump and catch a wave with?
You hoped smoke didn’t exhale through your nose with the breath you’d let out. Your fuse was growing short circuited. “God, you’ve got some nerve, Jay..” Angered paces closed the distance between you as you walked back over to him. “You’ve got some balls on you to say that after the stunt you pulled last weekend!” Your pointer finger poked at his chest with your accusation.
The air between you was so thick, neither of you had confidence that a knife could do any damage. But there was something addictive about the anger you stared at each other with, something in the humidity of the tension. You two couldn’t look away from each other if you tried to.
“Really? Do I?” His sarcastic, rhetorical questions carried with a snarky tone of voice. He almost mocked you. “Sorry that I actually care about you!” JJ couldn’t stop his voice from rising in volume. “I mean, God..” The last word snagged on a scoff, a chuckle. “How is he even your boyfriend? What do you guys even do together?”
Seeing JJ short tempered was one thing, but you’d never seen him this aggravated before. It almost made you smirk at how much you’d ruffled his feathers; just how much you’d gotten under his skin, made him jealous. It was entertaining.
But you were angered. Right. You were upset with him. You’d almost forgotten.
JJ’s tongue dared to make a short appearance, wetting the gap between his lips as he hesitated. He knew this comment would cause damage, but he was in the thick of the moment. JJ’s voice finally lowered in volume, speaking through gritted teeth when he asked: “When was the last time he’s even kissed you?”
And that fucking did it.
Toe to toe with him, you kept your head craned up to him, eying him from the two feet of space that kept you two separated. You couldn’t tell if your eyes sparked with tears or pure aggression. “Don’t you fucking go there, Maybank!” You snapped. “You’re walking a thin fucking line right now– I mean, seriously!” You were exasperated, cutting yourself off mid sentence from your loss of words, but you couldn’t lose this argument. You let out a scoff at him, narrowing your eyebrows. “Y’know, I bet you don’t even fucking remember what you said to me–”
JJ cut you off this time, only needing one stride to close the distance between you. “And what if I did remember?” His voice grew quieter, snagging on the ridged edges of his tone. The intensity of the room was still thick, but you’d suddenly forgotten to breathe with how little space there was between you. The atmosphere surrounding you changed appearance, revealing that it was never fully anger, rather than pure unadulterated attraction.
Your heart pounded in your ears, caught in your throat, and ricocheted off of JJ’s chest, as it now threatened to touch your’s. Any breath that slipped through your lips tickled his own, and you felt the heaviness in each of the exhales he fanned across your face. The containment of his composure, and how difficult he had keeping a hold and restraint on himself.
His eyes were glued to your lips despite the close proximity you stood at, and your own eyes were traitorous as they caught a glimpse of his. Soft, just slightly out of reach, and threatening any movement that you challenged.
“What if I did remember? And what if..” He drank you up, how speechless he’d left you. JJ didn’t showcase the cockiness he’d felt, stumping you, leaving you at his whim in front of him. He took in the moment, savoring the ghost of your body slowly pressing against him. “What if I meant every word? And I..” His voice had grown huskier, timid and low and just for you. “I want to show you just how you deserve to be treated..”
You felt the gentle, light, brushing of his fingers just beyond your silhouette. He knew he was teasing you, but he was just testing waters. JJ didn’t want to cross a boundary that you didn’t permit him to.
But it was you that began closing the gap, that brushed your lips against his. You left him speechless with just a taste, just a sliver of contact. You could hear the sharpness of his inhale; the breath that hitched at the back of his throat. It took every fiber of your body, every cell in your brain not to cave…but you were winning.
The outline of a smirk ghosted across your lips, your mouths a very hazardous distance away from each other. Each breath was shared, each feeling reciprocated, but you couldn’t be the first one to falter. “You want me that bad, huh, Maybank?” You let the coyness ring through your low–toned question, the triumph of your teasing sing to him. And it was all the more satisfying when he had to swallow some of the tension before giving his response.
It was almost too compelling, how high you got on his sudden nervousness. He was flushed, putty, speechless. There was a frog in his throat, and he couldn’t seem to let it out. Just by giving him a little preview of what you felt like, he couldn’t seem to catch a hold of himself. Alas, you couldn’t keep yourself contained forever.
“Yeah, I do..” A breathless whisper, and you felt every spark attached to it. Each syllable of sincerity, and it drove you wild.
You let the feeling soak in, letting your lips curl in victory. “Good.” You hummed, closing the aching gap between you and kissing him. You kissed JJ, holding his head in your hands and pushing him back against his wall. JJ was quick to reverse it, quick to bounce off the wall, and pin you there in his place. His hands traveled up the length of you, fingers pressing to your hips, your sides, padding dangerously close to sensitive spots you didn’t think he’d be so quick to find.
The kiss was filled with more than just the bubbling rage you’d felt just moments prior; the passion that wasn’t fueled by anger at all. Neither of you could fight back the rising smiles at the realization of just how long this had been coming. Both of you wanted this for so long, and you knew neither of you would let the other go anytime soon.
Especially with how turned on you were.
Your lips parted with a gasp, JJ’s entire palm pressing to your clothed breast. His other hand found a way up your shirt. Sinful touches and breathy moans filled the room, and you felt totally consumed by each other. Possessed by lust, and overcome with an undying need for JJ. You needed him everywhere, in every way. And you couldn’t even believe this was happening.
As JJ’s hands found your ass, kneaded the plush of it, you hopped into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. The grunt that he’d let out into the kiss only added to the knot growing in the depths of your stomach, the ache throbbing between your legs. Your hips rolled to meet him as he walked over to his bed, quick to lay you over his comforter and kiss down your jaw and your neck.
His fingers locked with yours, holding your hands beside your head against his mattress. When he’d parted from your neck, the look in his eyes could’ve killed you. The look on his face alone could’ve driven you mad—his lips plump and red from kissing you senseless, JJ’s entire face gaping at you, silently begging you for more. But his eyes were asking, giving you the choice. It was your call.
You combed your fingers through his hair, grabbing his chin to pull his lips back to yours, when your phone interrupted the two of you with its blinding light. Both of you peered over at it, not the least bit indulged with what pulled you from the heat of the moment.
“Are you going to check that?” JJ asked, some edge to his voice. And you couldn’t tell whether it was protective demeanor, harmless competition, or his composure not to take you right then and there.
Meeting his eyes again, you found yourself smirking, breaths still heavy from how worked up you were. Your eyes didn’t leave his as you turned your phone over. “Not tonight.” You spoke with a hum, quick to take off your top in a quick motion afterward.
Maybe part of you should’ve felt guilty, or guilty for not feeling guilty. But you couldn’t care less. Especially because you felt like the luckiest person in the world.
#imagine#outer banks imagine#outer banks#jj maybank#jj mayback imagine#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#outer banks angst#outer banks smut#outer banks fluff#drabble#blurbs#blurb
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next door kind of love.
warnings: none, just some childhood best friends to lovers and tooth-rotting fluff. make your dentist's appointments now yall.
growing up living next door to the sargeants was an interesting experience. your parents were friends, having bonded when logan's parents moved in a few months after your own parents had. then, a few years later, they had dalton. just over a month after dalton's first birthday, you came along, and then eight months after you, on new year's eve, logan was born.
the three of you were inseparable as you grew up. you'd accompany them to their races and they'd support you at your roller derby tournaments. they would find a new way to climb the tree in your back yard and you would set a time record for climbing that route. the three of you had more inside jokes than you could count, made up more backyard games than anyone could ever begin to comprehend, and trusted each other beyond the ends of the earth.
when the sargeants moved to switzerland, though, you were crushed. sure, their plan was to only stay for two years, but those two years started to feel like an unbearable eternity after just the first month.
"mama," you said, a bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your mouth, "i miss logie and dalt. when are they coming back?"
"not for a long time, honey. i'm sure they'll come visit, though. how about we call them and see how they're doing?"
your face lit up. "yeah! can we call them now? can we can we can we?"
your mother smiled and shook her head, the papers surrounding her full of confusing numbers and big words like "homeowner's insurance" and "disability pension application."
"maybe, honey. we'll have to see what time works for them. first, though, i need you to finish your lunch, strawberries and all. can you do that for me?"
"sure, mama."
lo and behold, two years had passed, and the sargeants were almost back to florida. your father had the idea of surprising them at the airport, so you'd made a giant sign that said "WELCOME BACK SARGEANTS!" in bright blue magic marker. after selecting a spot you deemed visible enough, you craned your neck every time a new flow of passengers exited, hoping to see your best friends. every time you caught a flash of what might've been one of them, your heart skipped a beat, but when you finally saw dalton, logan, and their parents, it felt like you were on the moon.
you mustered up as much air into your thirteen-year-old lungs as you could and screamed.
"DALTON! LOGAN!"
every head in the airport whipped around to you, but you couldn't care less. your two best friends were running full speed at you, suitcases abandoned with their parents, and you couldn't stop smiling. you're slammed by the tightest hug you've ever experienced and you might be seeing stars from your ribs being crushed but that doesn't matter when you finally have dalton and logan back with you in florida.
you're muttering so many "i missed you"s and "i couldn't wait to see you guys"s and "i have so much to tell you"s into them, and it feels like forever before you guys let go of each other.
"you guys ready to get out of here?"
when logan won the karting championship in 2015, you'd never screamed louder. you were the first person he looked for after the race and the person he hugged the tightest.
when you made it to the top roller derby league in your area, he was the first person to congratulate you, and he brought you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers- baby breath, white tulips, and jasmine.
as logan worked his way up through the different levels of formula racing, you'd always manage to stay up to all hours of the night to watch him race or even send him a simple "good luck" text.
when he told you he'd been admitted to the williams driver academy, you almost tackled him to the ground with how much force you hugged him with. "i'm so happy for you," you said, repeated like a mantra.
"and guess what?"
"there's more?" you pulled back from the hug, looking up at him.
"i get to do a post-season test drive in abu dhabi."
"what?!" the smile on your face is not only from pride, but now also shock. "lo, are you serious? that's amazing! when did you find out?"
"maybe..." he checks his watch, eyes looking up. "five minutes ago?"
"wait. did you tell your parents? and dalt?" he hesitates, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. you can't help but think, even for an instant, that it's... kind of cute?
"logan hunter sargeant, did you tell me before you told your parents?"
"i might have..." the scowl on your face deepens, and you pull away from him, remove the house slipper you're wearing, and whack him across the head with it.
"out of my house! go over to your own and tell your parents, your literal givers of life, that you're driving a fucking formula one car! out! out with you!" you wave him out of your front door and watch with a smile on your face as he runs back to his own home, laughing when he trips over himself and falls into the grass. a few minutes later, you hear dan and madelyn scream with joy.
"my best friend is going to drive a formula one car," you say to the wind. "holy shit."
a bit over a year later, when logan signs with williams to drive with them in 2023, he still tells you before his parents.
the tuesday after the austin grand prix, a new post on your private instagram account appears. its location is tagged as the circuit of the americas and the caption reads "one of the perks of your best friend being a formula 1 driver is getting to go to austin and get paddock passes for free. the other is getting to spend the weekend with your best friend."
in may of 2024, logan brings you to the miami grand prix. at the end of the race, you are the first person he looks for. you are the person he hugs the tightest. you are the person to tell him that it wasn't his fault that he crashed and he did everything he could. you are the person whose shoulder he cries into and the person who gently holds his face and wipes his tears away with your thumbs.
you are the person to stand on your tip toes to place a kiss to his lips, the salty taste of his tears reaching your own lips. you are the person he sees when he opens his eyes and, when you backpedal in the slightest bit, you are the person he pulls closer and kisses like he means it.
you are the only person that hears when he says that he's loved you since you surprised him at the airport when they came back from switzerland. you are the only person that hears him say that it's always been you that he's loved, that he's never seen anyone else besides you.
and he is the only one that hears you say that you love him, too.
#formula 1#mxstellatayte#f1#formula 1 fluff#driver: ls2.#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant fanfiction#logan sargeant imagine#stella writez#f1 fluff#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#drabble
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Just imagine your t shirt pushed up over your chest and his large hands on your breasts, panties pushed to the side and legs wrapped around his neck as he groans into your cunt. The heat of his skin everywhere that he touches you, stuttering on your words and him only answering by groaning against you. He’s panting against your skin, inhaling you as he catches his breath, muscular shoulders flexing with each desperate inhale. The brief flex of his ass as he grinds into the mattress just for some relief of his own. You can’t move, only struggle against him. Your hands grapple for any hold - his hands on your chest, his veiny forearms, his hair. Then his hands slide down and under your hips, they push you up and into his mouth, his tongue diving deeper as he shoves a pillow beneath your hips. And he has the audacity to laugh at the broken noise spilling from your lips. One hand presses down on your womb, the other slips a finger into you and curls up, and you are gone-
Yeah…
#my libido atm 📈#this is on my mind every second and i cant be arsed to write a whole chapter/oneshot#this will have to do#ily guys#writing#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#drabble#drabbles#lil present from me to you#ns/fw
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Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?
I understand if you don’t want to!!❤️
Hello! This has been sittin in my inbox for many months during my huge writing rut, sorry about that! I know you also gave this prompt to @the-modern-typewriter and she's been making an incredible series with it on patreon! I changed some things around because I don't want to in any way attempt some sad copy of her interpretation, but I was still inspired by the prompt itself, so I've taken some fairly big liberties to avoid any significant similarities! Hope that's okay! Also, please manage your expectations, I do not compare to the magic that is TMT's writing 😆
TW: Brief depictions of body horror. Violence.
The power blew out in sections. The lights dissolved sector by sector with a sickening whine and click–one by one–in approach.
The commotion ripped Eloise from the fictional world she was lost in, aged page corners still pinched beneath her thumb. Her spirited storytelling abruptly died behind her teeth.
Somewhere in the distance, one person shouted. Two.
Her gaze flicked behind them to the door isolating herself and the bound supervillain from the other sectors of the Maximum Security Prison for Powered Individuals or, as everyone called it, The Max. Seeing nothing but black beyond the bullet-proof glass, her attention snapped forward again to the supervillain imprisoned across from her.
Was this the start of some elaborate escape plan on his part? Why did it have to happen on a day that she was stuck fulfilling her community service hours instead of being something she could safely gawk at in the newspaper from a distance in a few days? Her stomach did a nauseated flip.
“What are you doing?” she blurted, voice quivering only a little. Her fingers tightened around her book.
The villain made a show of looking pointedly at his restraints. Wrists strung taut and chained to either wall, he shrugged an innocent shoulder at her as if to say “clearly, nothing.” He was perched on the edge of his bed like a bird, tilting his head with a matching sort of probing curiosity.
For all the chaos outside of the room, Artisan had not a hair out of place. He appeared perfectly unconcerned, though as thoroughly trapped as ever: ankles shackled, arms stretched uselessly apart from each other. The power-dampening collar wrapped around his neck still blipped a faint red light, indicating it was active.
The prisoners were rioting. Surely they couldn’t get too far? Containing the most dangerous of powered individuals was, after all, the express purpose of the facility…
The lights above them flickered, dipping the room in and out of inky darkness before settling into a dimly lit haze. Eloise’s breath stalled. The imposing dark felt like a threat, as if the lights could keep the monsters at bay. It only made a little sense, in the way that a child feels safe from the monsters under their bed as long as their nightlight is plugged in.
Except that these monsters were real. The most dangerous in the country. And she was currently feet away from the monster that made even other monsters run.
He hadn’t seemed so bad in the time that she’d known him. Quiet, impassive, yet twisting her gut with pity any time she eyed his barbaric restraints. The least she could do–while crossing off her hours–was to read the supervillain a story every few days. She couldn’t change his fate. Couldn’t make him more comfortable. What she could do was rattle off, sheepishly, about fictional worlds and impactful characters in literature and the way that a well-crafted story could transport you somewhere better.
A crash, gunshots, a scream. Tension racketed through Eloise’s shoulders. More shouts chased thundering footsteps.
Things were going very, very, wrong. And she was very much out of her depth.
Eloise jolted as something struck the door, her special-edition copy of Mary Shelly's Frankenstein falling to the ground and skidding away.
Finally, the lights cut out. With it, every noticeable piece of tech died. All of the energy felt sucked out of the room as if vacuumed. The camera’s blinking light disappeared. Alarms that should have been wailing cut silent. Speakers, keypads, and security systems, all dead. The secondary generator hadn’t sprung to life yet. That meant that this was more than a simple power outage. This was a calculated revolt.
Eloise’s mind raced through a list of everything else that must have been failing. Coms. Sedative gas. Shock collars. Layers and layers of security locks…
Power dampeners.
Panic clamped vice-like and suffocating around her throat. Artisan’s collar was no longer blinking.
She froze in the eerie silence of the cell, afraid of shattering the fragile calm. Her heart thumped, rabid, against her ribs.
Chains rattled and clinked to the floor.
Eloise bolted blindly for the door, smacking her palm against the DNA scanner while frantically swiping her “Volunteer Staff” badge through the card reader. When neither miraculously came to life, she resorted to banging on the door.
“Let me out, let me out! Guard!”
The door could only be opened by one person inside the cell and one outside simultaneously unlocking the security checkpoints. Even if the power were on, if the guard on the other side was gone…
The emergency floodlights kicked on, bathing the building in startling fluorescence. Eloise flinched, briefly stunned.
Hands grabbed her firmly from behind, yanking her backward.
Eloise yelped. “No, please–!”
The spot that she had been standing in exploded, steel door and concrete chunks collapsing into the room in a barrage of shrapnel. Something–no, someone–landed, bones crunching, at her feet. The guard who had last been standing on the opposite side of the door lay motionless. His blood puddled the floor, staining the soles of her Converse sneakers.
A horrified sound choked in Eloise’s throat.
Another supervillain strode in, eyes alight with hatred and something more–power. His lip curled, waving a mocking hand–engulfed in green energy–at the guard’s corpse. “God. I’ve wanted to do that for far too long. That one always got on my nerves.”
Artisan looked unimpressed. “You’re making a mess in my cell.”
Eloise’s breath caught. Hearing the supervillain’s voice was jarring. Artisan rarely spoke. Not that any of the other staff had ever actually attempted conversation with him… But even in news clips and YouTube videos, he carried himself with the kind of self-assured quiet of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove. His lethal efficiency did more for his reputation than any words could.
The other man was a villain named William Frenzy, a telekinetic with a gleeful taste for violence.
Faced with Artisan’s startling calm, Frenzy… paused. Faltering on a tight rope he had moments before been strolling across.
“Yes, well. It won’t have to be your cell much longer, will it? They can’t stop all of us.” He smirked at the dead body on the floor. “Some of them can’t even stop one of us.”
Eloise shrank back toward the corner nearest the door, agonizingly slow, willing the ugly shadows from the artificial lighting to swallow her up while the supers focused on each other. She was the kind of person that people tended not to notice; a background character in the perimeter of a story that the protagonist would meet once and never spare a thought again. She wished, then, that invisibility really was her superpower.
Artisan said nothing, his steely gaze fixed upon Frenzy.
Frenzy floundered beneath the scrutiny. The smugness buffered on his face. Finally, he huffed, crossing his arms. “I made you a nice and easy door out. You’re welcome.” He flicked a hand toward the gaping hole in the wall.
Eloise inched further toward it.
Artisan tutted, and while it wasn’t aimed at her, it shot a cold thrill up her spine. She froze, briefly, before continuing her tantalizing escape. She listened to Artisan speak again.
“I did not need anything from you. I’ll be getting out regardless. You on the other hand…”
Eloise stared as Frenzy’s skin shrank taut against his bones, the frame of him creaking and groaning like an old tree in the wind. The air choked out of him, fingers grabbing at his jaw as it stretched open too wide. The corners of his lips tore, slitting his mouth into a gaping maw.
The faintest of smiles graced Artisan's lips as he continued, soft as ever. “Say sorry.”
Eloise didn’t wait to see the carnage through, slipping out into the hall and running.
The other sectors were washed in the same sterile glow as Artisan’s cell was, blue-tinged and horrible, like the lights in a dentist's office. She kept to the edge of things as best she could, clinging to the walls and dark corners.
There was brawling in every sector—guards with weapons drawn mowed to the ground by the creatures they had wardened for so long. A villain fell as shots rang out. Another grabbed the guard from behind, cracking his skull against their knee.
The smell of blood stung Eloise’s nostrils. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe.
She turned to flee down another hall, but two fighting inmates crashed into the doorway in front of her.
Eloise squealed, jerking backward into the belly of the room's chaos.
Don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me.
Everyone was so occupied by their chosen prey, maybe she could fade into the background. Maybe she could–
Her heel caught on something and she tumbled, gracelessly, to the floor. It took her several moments to register the lake of blood seeping warm and sticky into her clothing.
Terror blurred her brain in a white flash bang.
Disappear, disappear, disappear…
“Mm. What do we have here?”
Eloise couldn’t bring herself to lift her head. She clamped her eyes shut, another child’s illusion of protection.
The villain opposite her chuckled. He ripped her volunteer badge off of its clip against her chest. Her eyes snapped open again. She recognized him as a ringleader among superpowered thieves. They called him Volt.
“Volunteer, eh? A pretty thing like you should know better than to willingly set foot in a prison full of men with nothing left to lose. It’s been a long sentence, darling. I could make excellent use of your volunteer services. Get up.”
Numbly, ears full of static, Eloise shook her head.
Volt frowned, electricity jumping to life in his palms. “No?” He reached for her, hand nearing her throat.
“Keep your hands to yourself or I will remove them.”
Artisan’s voice was calm. His eyes were not.
The room quieted.
Spatters of red decorated Artisan’s prison uniform. A few drops dotted his face and he brushed them away with his knuckles, smearing the crimson across his cheek. Almost lazily, he popped his neck and stretched his shoulders, no doubt sore from the strain his restraints kept him in.
The villain across from Eloise paused, sparks still dancing across his fingertips. He regarded Artisan with the same wary caution as Frenzy had.
Before he'd been… Before Artisan had…
Eloise swallowed back the nausea climbing her throat.
Finally, Volt’s hand lowered. “She's yours?”
“She's hers. Step away.”
The man hesitated a moment too long. Artisan didn't offer a second warning.
As if puppeted, the man's fingers raised to gauge at his own eyes. He screamed, the faint evidence of Artisan’s power shimmering over him. He clawed, next, at the skin on his face, peeling it back like wet wallpaper.
As promised, his wrists crunched and bent, wrenching all on their own at impossible angles.
Eloise covered her ears, unable to bear the screaming. She felt sick.
“Stop,” she whispered finally. “Please.”
It did. The man collapsed into a sobbing, bloodied heap.
When Eloise managed to look at Artisan, she startled to find his attention fixed on her.
They stared at each other for a stretch of silence that itched. She imagined being forced to choke on her own lungs, or her skull constricting in on itself until it squashed her brain into pulp. For being so bold as to run, he might snap her legs and reaffix them the wrong direction, or splinter her bones to poke, grotesque, out of her skin. They always did say that his victims were his personal works of art, bodies twisted into shells of monsters.
He crooked a finger, beckoning her.
The edges of her vision swooped fuzzy and vertiginous. She rose onto wobbly knees and pushed herself to her feet. When she swayed, Artisan caught her elbow, slipping an arm around her waist to lead her forward.
He did not look back at the others, with complete confidence that no one would challenge him.
No one did.
Eloise was barely aware of taking one step after another. When they arrived back in the villain’s cell, the bodies of Frenzy and the dead guard, thankfully, were gone, though the floor was streaked with the drag lines of their blood.
She wrenched her gaze away.
Artisan’s hand moved further down her arm to her wrist, gesturing that she sit on his bed. When she shifted to do so, his grip tightened, tugging her to a stop. She frozen and tried to read his face.
His dark brows were furrowed, suspicious eyes flicking from hers down to her hand.
He pulled down her sleeve and held her wrist up between them, revealing the power-blocking cuff clamped around it. His head cocked. He waited.
Eloise swallowed. “I’m not a super. I mean- not a super-super. Just a…..no one.”
“A no-one who volunteers at The Max? With a power-dampener?”
“They’re terms of my probation,” she blurted. “A thousand hours of community service here and a power-inhibitor for a year. I think they put me here to threaten me with where I could end up if I continue on like… Um…”
“Me.”
“A villain,” she clarified, as if that was better.
Her gaze flitted from the fingers wrapped around her wrist and up to the villain’s face again. The harsh lighting haloed him, dimly silhouetting his face. He looked haunting. He looked lovely. A beautiful house, old and creaking, wrapped in ghosts like a bride’s veil and left to rot.
“What did you do?”
“I…” Eloise felt very small. “I lied about being powered on my documents. So that they wouldn’t put me on the registry. When they found me out, I tried to run away.”
Artisan’s scrutiny burned her cheeks. He let go of her wrist.
“...What can you do?”
“Nothing special,” she said, cradling her wrist–wholly uninjured as it was–in her other hand. “It doesn’t even work most of the time. My power is sort of…blending in. Going unnoticed. When it’s working, I could stand in a the White House and people’s attention would glide over me as if I belonged there. Not quite invisible, but… It just tricks your brain into not thinking twice.”
Artisan’s eyes narrowed.
Eloise flinched back a step, stumbling back over her fallen book onto the bed. She stared at him.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, but she still waited for the catch. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them? Trying to escape?”
The villain considered her for a long moment. He sat down beside her, and the hard cot creaked beneath his weight. “Mm. That’s just it. No one inside the prison could have blown the power-dampeners. They require someone with powers to turn them off or on, and the security is impenetrable. My team has tried. Besides, if this was a simple power outage, the inhibitors would still be on. But they’re not. This was premeditated–and no one imprisoned here could have done it. No one on the outside could have done it. So. Process of elimination. Who’s left?”
That was the most Eloise had ever heard Artisan speak, and she could only sit and listen intently–As he had when she’d read him stories. Her brain whirred in a jumbled jigsaw of puzzle pieces.
“It… It could only be an inside job.” She wet her lips. “The heroes- The higher-ups- They want the prisoners to break out so that they can kill them. A clean massacre. Justified under the law. The world’s most dangerous criminals could never be allowed to escape…”
Artisan smiled and it swirled something in her insides. “A convenient way to get rid of all of the pesky criminals clogging up the system. I’d bet anything that there are 50 snipers surrounding the building, waiting to slaughter anyone who steps foot outside.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Artisan agreed, his smile easing into something softer; something with less feral teeth.
“Thank you for helping me,” Eloise whispered. “What do we do now?”
Artisan hummed. He bent down and swept up her book, dropping it into her lap. He laid back against his pillow and crossed his arms behind his head. The bloodspots on his skin and clothes glittered in the lowlight.
“Keep reading. I want to know how it ends.”
#writeblr#writing snippet#my writing#heroes and villains#hero x villain#creative writing#writers of tumblr#flash fiction#horror#male villain#writers on tumblr#heroes and villains community#villain x civilian#villain x villain#villain x hero#civilian x villain#drabble#writing drabble#fantasci snippet#fantasy tumblr#no writing#fantasci tumblr
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reunited
summary- you know there's something wrong with shigaraki, but you can't help ignore it.
random drabble abt shigAFO i couldn't get out of my head
You knew it wasn’t real.
You knew from the way his eyes were glazed over, from the way he didn’t sound like himself, from the way he just seemed wrong, that it wasn’t real.
All For One could try to placate you all he wanted, telling you that it was “only temporary” and “nothing to concern yourself over”, but there was something wrong with Tomura. He wasn’t himself anymore. The man you had grown to care for had been replaced with an empty husk. The only emotions he ever displayed lately were agony or rage, and those probably stemmed from All For One’s own feelings.
Because of this, you knew it wasn’t real when Tomura wrapped his arms around you. You knew the soothing apologies he murmured softly in your ear weren’t real. Neither was the way his hands moved gently down your back with all five fingers, easing the tension from worrying about him for so long. He had never done anything like this for you, ever.
You knew it wasn’t real, and the logical part of your mind screamed at you to push him off, to tell whoever this imposter was that you didn’t want this.
Yet, relief washed over you anyway. You knew it wasn’t real, but your body couldn’t help but react to the feeling of being pressed against Tomura. You told yourself you just wanted the warmth of another human being again, but you really only wanted Tomura. Even if his body was different now, lengthier and swell with muscle from so many new Quirks, you just wanted him. You hadn’t had a chance to be this close to him since before he had the Quirk transplant, five very long months ago. As much as you wanted to hate it, you relished being close to him again, no matter how real it was. As his fingers dug into a particularly sensitive knot in your back, you felt your knees buckle. Tomura held you tighter as you clung to him, enveloping your senses with just him.
You knew it wasn’t real, but for your own mind’s sake, you would pretend it was.
#shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura#drabble#tomura shigiraki x reader
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You hear the quiet sound of a cord sliding across the room before stopping behind you.
You, who are currently sitting on the daycare ground near the ball pit, huddled in on yourself, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs, as you tried desperately to stifle your tears.
"Sun, I'm not in the mood-" You started to speak after the newcomer, Moon, hadn't said anything.
"My, Starlight. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I am not Sun." The tall moon-themed animatronic said with a rasp to his voice, his presence sending a shiver down your spine. You heard the cord on his back unlatch, and he plopped himself down next to you.
"Oh, sorry, Moon. The lights are on-." You finally look up and see a vast expanse of darkness, not the familiar daycare room.
"Oh."
Moon hummed. "It's been dark for around ten minutes, Star."
"I see. Or, well, I don't see now," you said as you rubbed the palm of your hands against your eyes for a moment. Moon let out a soft chuckle as he watched you next to him.
"Is there a reason why you have been crying since you got here?" The tall animatronic next to you asked, curiously.
You let out a soft sigh and sniffle. "No… I mean, maybe? I don't know."
Moon hummed at your answer, then moved a hand to the back of your head and gently slid his palm along the base of your skull. "We do not like to see you so upset, Darling Star. If there is something we can do to soothe you, let us know." He spoke so softly; his voice sounded deep but so calming.
#noahs silly rambles#dca fandom#noah writing#moon#sun#moon x reader#moon x y/n#drabble#short#random thing#i just wanted to write something#kdjshgkjshg
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there's a lot of words in here about that one fanart that i saw of ratio having an emo phase, you're so welcome guys
for those who say my favorite is welt yang & not ratio,,,, how does it feel being wrong ( i still love welt yang SO much it makes me look stupid )
you swore you remember who veritas ratio was ! that was the guy who went to school at veritas prime on recommendation and absolutely blew through every single class that he attended. shoot, you were sure he taught a few classes himself despite being a student there. he was that unkempt guy, with the messy, slightly wavy dyed indigo hair that he clearly never brushed, the hair dye always overgrown and showing his brown roots, and the tongue piercing. he was tired looking, always having bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, with so much eyeshadow lazily slapped on for the added effect that he undoubtedly slept in for three nights in a row before he finally took a shower. and he always smelled so strongly of weed that it would make someone's eyes water a little bit just by standing around him for a minute or two.
you were sure that he slept through every single class, if he even bothered to show up, anyway. unless it was a test day, or he just wanted to show up and fuck around with the less gifted, you doubted he ever showed up. probably too busy trying to prove to his parents that he was more than his brains, of course. didn't he have a garage band with a few of his friends that went to a different school than him ? what was it called again ? ' irrational piety ' ? was that a joke on his name and pi ? and... god ? edgy, egotistical, and nerdy, exactly who he was as a person summed up short and sweet.
he was that guy who had approached you so many times in veritas prime, asking you about yourself, trying to show off. he was clumsy with it, his manner and the way he spoke made it clear that his family was filled with important people. scholars, doctors, teachers of any type. there was no doubt that genius was simply a way of living at his house, and he was determined at this time to be different.
you had to admit, it was charming in its own way. veritas wasn't your typical crowd that you would hang around with, but he was somehow still sort of down to earth in his own way, although it was silly. you thought it was cute how he bumbled over his words trying to be cool in front of you. you tried to pretend to be aloof and indifferent to his advances, but you leaned into them at the same time, too. you knew that he would listen if you told him to wash the makeup off his face. you told him it was because he didn't need it, but in reality, you were just worried about his skin back then. you weren't downright rude to him, and you found yourself laughing with him more often than you found yourself laughing at him.
you remembered when you spent that night with him in his dorm, and how weird it felt in your stomach for months when he graduated two years earlier than he was supposed to, and left you behind. you knew that he had to go do something important, you knew that was just who he was. no matter who he was going to be externally, you never had any doubt that he was going to be someone so incredibly important to the world around you, possibly to the entire cosmos. you thought that his passion for learning was going to outweigh anything else, and maybe you were right. you had lost contact with him for years, you honestly had no idea where he was now.
so who was this in front of you claiming to be doctor veritas ratio of the intelligentsia guild, and why did he have the same face as that man you knew in school ? there was a pause, a moment of recollection between the two of you, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words didn't come out. he looked so similar, but so different at the same time. it seemed that despite everything, he decided to keep up with the indigo hair, although he was doing a great job at keeping up with his root touchups. he probably got it done every two weeks religiously now.
" dr. ratio ? " you repeated his official title weakly, finally. you weren't surprised that he was who he was, no, that wasn't it. maybe it was just the nostalgia, coming face to face with the man who had so quickly and unwittingly became your first love, even if you never openly said it out loud to him. " you, err, decided to drop the eyeshadow, i guess ? "
in a moment, veritas' face paled, and he found himself at a loss for words. " ..yes, i did. that was a long time ago, i'm not the same person i used to be. "
" i think you're exactly the same, " you cut him off, shaking your head with a little smile on your face. " i mean, you don't have the dark eyeshadow anymore, and you smell like you shower now. you probably have those fancy baths with the bath bombs and flowers and milk to make your skin soft, am i right ? but you're still you, you know what i'm saying ? pre or post garage band. "
veritas seemed to calm down with your words, although it was clear that he wasn't happy that you still recalled that garage band that he so desperately wanted to erase from everyone's memories. and yet, he found himself chuckling softly, shaking his head. " out of all of the things i've created, i've yet to create something that entirely erases specific memories from people. how i wish i could make you forget all that you saw back then. "
" well, i remember. and i don't ever intend to forget, " you joked softly, tentatively stepping over the big question. did that night mean anything ? did any of it mean anything, actually ? sure, you can say that he's the same man, but is he really ? the man back then would've stumbled over his own feet to get you to look at him, and you found it so cute that you couldn't help but give in and fall in love with him. you'd always regretted not telling him, but here you were, with what could perhaps be a second chance just waiting on the horizon for you. if you played your cards right, if veritas wanted you to play your hand. " what happened ? "
" i grew up, " he responded, as if he had anticipated this question, something that you knew he likely had. " i couldn't just stay that way forever. people.. didn't respect me enough to hear what i was saying. "
" do you miss it ? "
" no, not really. "
you held your cards closer to your chest. that was a pretty clear answer to any of your questions so far, which might hurt if you gave yourself time to think about it, but you wouldn't. instead, you just gave him a silly little grin. " pity, i thought you were rather cute with your fake tattoos. do you still have the tongue piercing ? "
veritas paused for a moment, before opening his mouth, showing off the little ball on his tongue. " i thought about letting it close up, but decided against it. " you remembered so clearly how that piercing felt against your- now was not the moment to think about things like that.
" why do you still dye your hair ? " you asked, trying to think of something else other than his piercing at the moment. " not that i don't like the indigo. i think it suits you. "
" i believe it's just become a necessary part of my appearance. i don't think i look right with just brown hair, but that's subjective. now i have the proper schedule to keep up with care, so i make sure its always taken care of. " veritas doesn't sound awkward any more answering any of your questions. on the contrary, it looks like he's enjoying it, just a little bit. although you knew better than to mention that out loud. no matter what his appearance was, you knew the core of his personality was still the exact same. some things never change.
you felt so stuck in the past, unable to distinct this veritas from the man bumbling over his own feet so long ago. but you had to admit, veritas still made your heart beat so wildly out of your chest. you weren't sure if it was the memories, or just who he was as a person. " well, that's a lot of questions just to say that i think you look great, no matter what you wear or how you present yourself. appearances don't really matter at the end of the day. not to those who really care. "
" thank you, " veritas couldn't stop a small smile from forming on his face, and for a second you saw him again, the golden retriever of a person, hidden beneath layers. " ...would you like to catch up over coffee later ? "
you couldn't stop yourself from laughing a little bit, raising an eyebrow. " veritas, i thought you didn't like coffee ? "
" oh... well, my tastes have changed, too. " what a liar. maybe he really hasn't changed all that much at the end of the day.
— ♡ rationaliity 2024
#honkai star rail#hsr fanfic#honkai sr#dr ratio#honkai star rail x reader#x reader#hsr x reader#veritas ratio#hsr dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#drabble#ratio x reader#hsr veritas#veritas ratio x reader#veritas x reader#dr ratio hsr#dr ratio fluff#dr ratio imagines#imagines#fluff#hsr fluff#fluff imagines
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Leona 28
Summary: Leona doesn’t wear much to bed, which makes it great for you to feel his skin. It’s a common routine for you both, but apparently Leona wanted more.
(Again, not explicit, but very charged just to give all of you a warning.)
With how long Leona spends basking in the sun, you always have this little expectation that his body would get some kind of damage. There’s a type of roughness that comes with the rays. Grim’s fur has gotten less soft, Deuce’s face more stiff, and the back of Ace’s hands have gotten rough as well.
Leona’s skin however, as you skimmed your fingers over his waist as he laid in bed, was as soft as ever. It was pretty unfair, honestly. You’re more academically focused, so most of your light came from a lamp or overhead lights, but Leona spends his time regularly napping in the full force of the sun.
You pressed up against Leona, who huffed in annoyance but otherwise did not move. “Your skin’s too soft.” You grabbed his muffin top and gave it a squeeze just to prove a point. Soft. Too soft. How unfair.
“Hmm? And what do you want me to do about it?” Leona mumbled as he shifted, notably not shoving your hand back on his waist. Leona shoved his face back into pillow. “I’m just that gifted.”
But then again, he’s rich, so he’s probably using some high quality and stupidly expensive shower set up.
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.” You followed up the line of his body. You found his chest and gave it a squeeze, chuckling as Leona almost seized, “Very gifted indeed.”
“…” Leona looked over his shoulder at you, eyes narrowed but not in anger. They were alight with playfulness. “So that’s how you wanna go, huh?”
Ah, you were banking too much on him being too sleepy letting you drift off to sleep while squeezing. Whoops. Well, can’t back down now, because you knew Leona would find a way to hang this over your head later. Bastard. Oh well, you adore him nonetheless.
You squeezed and pressed his skin, trapping his nipples between your fingers, “I can’t help it. Every part of you is nice and soft. Want me to stop though?”
His mildly playful face grew annoyed. Suddenly, Leona grabbed your arm and pulled you right on top of him. He laid flat on his back, grinning with those sharp canines of his as that playful glint came back full force. He shoved your palms deeper into his chest.
“No. You started this, so go for it. I have all night.” Leave it to Leona to know exactly what he wants.
You laughed and, in your urge to be just the slightest bit mean, you lightly pinched him. He closed his eyes and breathed in, satisfied and ready for the night to come. No matter what he says, he can always rely on you to know just the right ways to unravel him.
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