#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hom3landr · 1 year

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#2 from the cuddle prompt list please!! 🖤

#2- getting the greatest feeling of safety from cuddling

She looks like you. That’s what burns the most. Looking at her is like looking in a funhouse mirror, the features just distorted enough that the reflection is an imitation instead of a copy. The bright flashes of the cameras do nothing to distinguish some kind of major difference that you could cling to. It was eerie and something you would find interesting if the coincidence wasn’t hanging off your boyfriend's arm.

Her name is Avalanche. She’s a newer supe on the scene, a possible hopeful for the Seven, and Vought’s shiny new toy to parade in front of the masses. You can tell by the way this premiere is going that Vought has big plans for her. Your stomach sours at the way Ashley seems to push her towards Homelander at every opportunity. The paparazzi keep begging them for pictures together and acid begins to rise in your throat when Homelander wraps his arm around her waist to pull her closer. (You can’t bear to think of him as John right now. Your John wouldn’t do this…would he?)

You know it’s PR bullshit. It’s Vought manufacturing a possible romance that they can cash in on later if the reaction is positive. You aren’t public with Homelander, something you insisted on because you didn’t want Vought’s fingers digging into this beautiful, fragile, precious thing that you’d found. You feel like a fucking idiot now. Of course, it’s not like Vought would care even if they knew. Whichever relationship made them the most money is the relationship they wanted him to have. Some part of you wonders which he’d choose if he had the option. Would he choose a weak human like you? Or would he choose the supe who looks like you? Why wouldn’t he choose the supe who could keep up with him, who he wouldn’t have to hold back with, who was strong and powerful?

Avalanche raises her hands and the crowd loses their fucking minds when snow begins to gently fall from the sky. The flakes catch in Homelander’s hair and they look so disgustingly romantic in this false winter wonderland. You aren’t a jealous person. You take his fame in stride and when fangirls swarm him for selfies and bat their eyelashes, you just shrug. Sometimes you play up the illusion of jealousy because Homelander enjoys feeling wanted but you know that they aren’t true competition.

This is different. This feeling burns raw in your chest and your throat stings from the thick black smoke of your misery. They look so picture perfect and the gathered crowd seems to agree. He leans in to kiss her cheek and you can’t take it anymore. Unshed tears sting at the corners of your eyes and you tuck your tail between your legs and run. You don’t want him to smell the salt from your tears. You don’t think you can bear his exasperation when he has to abandon his adoring public to coddle his weak human girlfriend. You push your way through the throng of people until you escape the light and noise. You find a dark alley that is blessedly silent. You pray you are far enough away that you can release the valve of your emotion and scream at the wall without him picking up on the sound over the roar of the crowd.

You don’t blame him honestly. You are upset, there’s no denying that, but you know he can’t help himself when he’s in the spotlight. He loathes it as much as he adores it. He needs it as much as it rips him apart. He’ll play whatever part Vought wants him to play before coming home to you and melting into the soft reality of your touch. It’s never been easy with him but you’ve also never felt so completely and utterly needed. So despite the ache in your soul, you’ll go back to that stupid premiere once your tears are dry.

You let out a few weak sniffles as you attempt to compose yourself. You wipe off your wet cheeks with your thumb. You don’t notice the dark figure that makes its way towards you from the other end of the alley. You aren’t a supe with heightened senses after all. Isn’t that the crux of the problem?

Pain flares throughout your body when you are shoved against the wall, your head knocking sharply against the brick. You try to scream, desperately hoping now that Homelander can hear your cries. A hand clad in black leather clamps itself over your mouth before any noise can escape. You struggle but you aren’t strong enough to pull away. You loathe it. How weak you are. She wouldn’t need anyone to save her. You don’t need super senses to smell the stink of fear coming off your body. The thief’s other hand fumbles with your clothes, searching for any hidden valuables until suddenly there’s a flash of heat and the scent of burnt flesh. In that moment you know you are safe, and you resent the fact that you needed saving as much as you are desperately grateful.

You look at the smoldering corpse behind you and you can’t help but shudder at the carnage. You can already tell that Homelander is furious. He’s angry at the man most of all but also at you for wandering off. This wouldn’t have happened if you had just stayed where he could keep an eye on you. Now, he’s going to have to endure Ashley’s inane chatter about his sudden departure as though she had any control over what he decided to do. You’re still shaking from the encounter and you can already feel your eyes welling up as he points a finger at you as though you are a disobedient child. It’s always a toss up as to whether tears will disarm him. He dislikes crying caused unintentionally, he prefers you soft and happy. However, when he feels that you deserve it, you could weep till you were sick and he would remain unmoved until he felt you had been properly chastised. Then he would sweep in to comfort you and expect you to immediately melt into him.

You fully expect for this to be one of the latter instances. You expect a lecture, a snide “What did you expect?” Instead he seems to deflate for a second. His stare intensifies and you know he’s scanning for any damage that lowlife may have done to you. While he considers emotional pain to be necessary sometimes to keep you in line, he despises seeing any physical harm done to your body. As much as he delights in the fragility of humans when compared to him, he’s all too aware of how easily that fact could take you away from him. You needed him to protect you.

“I’m taking you home, darling” His tongue curls around the pet name and it sounds like a threat. You flinch. You haven’t gotten over the sting of jealousy and you can’t help but mentally compare yourself to her once more. Your head throbs but the pain is minuscule compared to the tightness in your chest. You nod and let him gather you firmly against his chest before shooting off into the sky.

Once he’s deposited you at his penthouse and he’s convinced that you are out of harm's way, some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He grabs your chin in his hand firmly and gives a little shake.

“Stay!” He orders, as though you are a dog. He intends to go back to his premiere and the thought of him returning to her makes you see red. You poke his chest sharply with your finger.

“Are you going to run back to your girlfriend?” You hiss, finally releasing some of that pent up emotion that’s been brewing the moment you saw him with her. Homelander stills and his face flits through a variety of microexpressions before it lands on a grin so smug that you want to slap it off his face.

“Someone’s jealous” He purrs. He hasn’t let go of your chin despite you trying to wiggle away. He’s looking at you fondly. You can’t help but feel flustered. He thinks it’s funny. His anger and worry evaporated in the wake of his ego swelling to dangerous levels. You’re surprised he doesn’t pop like a balloon. The indestructible Homelander is finally brought down by his own self-satisfaction. You huff angrily.

“I’m not. Why would I care that your hand was practically on her ass the whole night?” You reply. It may be a bit of an exaggeration, as far as you could tell he had kept his hands to relatively appropriate areas. That isn’t the point though. You had to stand and watch as hundreds of cameras captured Homelander’s lips on her cheek. It was going to be all over the news tomorrow and Homelander thought it was a fucking joke. He thought you were a joke.

“It wasn’t but that’s certainly a suggestion. After all, it’s not like I have anyone better to share the spotlight with. I might as well give the crowd a show.” He bares a bit too much fang with his smile and you know that comment was a punishment for your insistence on secrecy. Homelander didn’t like the implication that you didn’t want to be his and he let you know at every opportunity.

“Go fuck her if you want her so bad. I’ll just pack my bags and leave you to it” You snarl. Homelander’s grip tightens, his fingers digging in right on the edge of painful. He finds your jealousy cute but the mere suggestion of you leaving has him seething. His eyes glow like hot coals. He’d never use his heat vision on you but he’s not above showing off to make a point.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude, missy.” He all but hisses out. “I’ll fuck whoever I want to fuck and you’re going to stay right here.”

He doesn’t actually mean it. He’s being cruel to hide how vulnerable he feels at the thought of losing you. The only way he knows how to process pain is to transfer to someone else. You’ve grown used to this. You’ve adapted. That doesn’t mean the barb didn’t have the intended effect. It doesn’t mean that it didn’t feel like he dug his fingers right into the center of your pain and squeezed with all of his superhuman strength.

You hadn’t wanted this to turn into a fight. You hadn’t wanted him to find out. If she hadn’t looked so much like you, if she wasn’t a fucking supe, then you could have played along fine. You’d have enjoyed the premiere, stroked Homelander’s ego till he was hard as a rock, and let him fuck you to sleep. It would have been fun. Now, he’s pissed at you and will likely remain pissed at you for who knows how long. You’re going to go to bed alone knowing there’s a possibility that he’ll take the easy choice, that he really will fuck Avalanche just to prove a point. Maybe he’ll fuck her just for the fun of it, because he can, and not even think of you at all.

You’re scared. You can’t lose him. You just can’t.

“Listen…not with her. I’m begging” You reply softly. Homelander scoffs, annoyed by your fixation. His eyes fade back to blue but his anger hasn’t lessened. His jaw is still clenched so tight that any normal man would have cracked his teeth from the strain. The jealousy was supposed to be an ego stroke, he didn’t expect it to turn into such a performance.

“Why do you even care about her? It’s never bothered you before. It’s just bullshit made up for the cameras.” He finally releases you, only to pace around the room like a caged lion.

“She’s a supe.” You admit shyly. You don’t want to let him know about your insecurities. You don’t want him picking at you, using it as ammunition when he’s angry. But you don’t want to fight anymore. So you open yourself up and admit what’s been tearing you apart.

“So?” Homelander’s bewilderment is apparent. He turns to you, hands on his hips, about ten seconds away from hauling you over his knee and spanking the fight out of you. Then you could fuck after and he’d return to the premiere late, basking in the attention when he apologizes for leaving to stop a robber from assaulting a young woman. He’d be the hero, you’d stop being mad at him, and life could continue on as planned. None of this cryptic bullshit and pointless threats.

“I’m not”

“I’m aware” His voice is so thin with annoyance that if it was an actual thread then it would have snapped long ago. He knows what you are. He’s faced with it every damn day. He has to see you mill around with those mewling vermin, as though they were your equals. Homelander considers you in the same category as other humans the way that a swan is technically in the same category as a vulture. So yes, he is aware, but you aren’t like them. So in his mind the point was moot. You were you.

“What if you decide that you want someone like her who can keep up with you?” You whisper, as though voicing it would make it true. Homelander double takes and the laughter that bursts from his chest is both incredulous and relieved. That’s what you were worried about? He’d be concerned about your intelligence if he didn’t love you so much.

“Sweetheart, you think I’m on the same level as Frosty the fucking Snowwoman? Her power is useless. Is she going to take down criminals by giving them frostbite? Her nemesis is a sturdy jacket. You might as well be worried that I’m going to fuck The Deep. I mean…it’s cute how flustered you got but seriously?” You listen to his rant and the throbbing ache in your chest finally starts to loosen. He’s telling the truth. The scorn in his voice is unmistakable. He’s being an asshole about it. You’re positive Avalanche doesn’t deserve his vitriol, but you’re still chained by jealousy so every mean-spirited comment serves to sooth you.

“I…I just thought. We look alike” You murmur sheepishly. Homelander laughs again, cupping your cheek and looking down at you indulgently. Humans really could be so pathetic sometimes but with you he finds it endearing. He leans in to nuzzle your nose with his and your cheeks heat with a mixture of fondness and embarrassment.

“Why would I fuck her because she looks like you when I could just fuck you?” It really seems like the most obvious thing in the world when he states it like that. You let him kiss you, soft and sweet, his words swirling through your head like the very snowflakes that had drifted miraculously from the sky.

Homelander loves you the most when you’re like this. You’re leaning into his touch like it’s the only thing you want in this world. His anger dissolves along with yours. It’s not really your fault. You are a human after all. Sometimes he has to be indulgent with you. Who wouldn’t want to be possessive over him?

“You’re so cute. I mean…you got a little too mouthy for my taste but I’m honestly flattered.” He sweeps you off your feet, cradling you against him for the second time tonight. Fuck the premiere, Ashley will spin it in his favor or he’ll have her head. He’d rather soak in your affection than deal with the simpering journalists and flashing bulbs that hurt his sensitive eyes. He craves attention from the masses but oh how he despises the hoops he has to jump through when they should be worshiping him like a God without all this pageantry. You don’t need any of that. He just has to exist and you melt into his arms.

He gently lays you down on his bed and surprises you when he begins to shed his suit. You’d assumed that once you’d been mollified that he would leave, instead he crawls right in after you. You think it’s cute that he prefers to cuddle you skin to skin. It usually ends with him inside you so honestly it’s a win all around. He manhandles you effortlessly until you are cradled against his chest with your legs entwined. You can hear his heartbeat like this and you wish you could hear it all the time, the way he can hear yours. You’re still dressed so Homelander slips his hand under your shirt to caress the warm skin of your back.

“She really doesn’t look like you at all” He mumbles into your hair, his fingers tracing random patterns against your skin, huffing happily when he can feel goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch.

“You don’t think so?” You’re not sure if he’s lying for your benefit or if he truly doesn’t see a resemblance. You don’t even care anymore. He’s here with you. He stayed with you. That’s all that matters. You are safe and wanted.

“Nope…you have nicer tits” He teases slyly, causing you to give him a sharp slap to the arm. He gives you a swat on the ass as a reply and he relishes in the way you squeal.

“Y’know.” Homelander says casually, “This would have never been an issue if you let me show you off as mine.”

“I know but Vought…” You try to argue. Homelander doesn’t seem to understand that Vought pulls his strings more than he realizes. He lets Vought pull his strings more than he realizes despite his insistence on control. You’d never tell him this of course, not unless you wanted to deal with his sour mood for days. It does make you wary however. Everything Homelander has ever had has been commodified and turned into a product that Vought could sell. You don’t want to turn into that for him.

“Fuck Vought, I don’t care what they think.” He scoffs. He’d terrorize Ashley if she even breathed in a way that suggested dating you publicly would be a bad idea. If Stan Edgar protested…Homelander would finally show him the true extent of his power

“It’s just…it’s obvious that they are banking on the two of you as a couple. She’s practically a shoe-in for the Seven and if they know about…” You ramble, but before you can finish talking you feel his firm grip on your chin once more. He forces you to meet his gaze which is so brimming with resolve that you know it is pointless to argue.

“I decide who goes in the Seven.” He insists, frustrated that you would think differently for even a second. He forgives the slip-up but it still takes a moment for him to sheath his claws. He releases you and guides you back down to snuggle against his chest. “If you don’t want her there then she won’t be.”

“I don’t want her there.” You whisper, so quietly that any average person would not have realized you had spoken at all. It’s a selfish request. Avalanche shouldn’t be punished because of your insecurities. She likely doesn’t even know you exist and you sincerely doubt she’s some sort of boyfriend stealer from your nightmares. Still…you’d feel better if she wasn’t there.

“That’s it then. You have nothing to worry about.” He softly guides your head away from his chest to nuzzle his nose against yours. He’s content now and ready to bask in the comfort of your presence. He hadn’t really wanted to go back anyway. So you let him kiss you deeply. You let him roll you over and slip inside you. You let him fuck you to sleep. When you wake up in the morning all loose-limbed and lazy, his cock still inside you, you realize that he’s right. You truly have nothing to worry about. She can fuck him…but you can love him.

#homelander #x reader #homelander x reader #this was supposed to be a drabble #turns out its not

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katherineholmes · 10 months

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The New Deal

Read on AO3

She inhaled softly as she opened the door, the stench of death filling her soul and making her shiver. A thousand questions raced through her mind, wondering if he had come there for revenge, or if he had found out about Elena being alive.

“What do you want?” Bonnie had almost killed Klaus just three nights ago, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble in fear.

“Now, is that any way to greet me witch?” He smirked and she wanted to rip his face off. Wanted to give him an aneurysm so bad his brain would bleed out of his eyes.

“You killed my best friend.” It was another thing that she had brought Elena back to life, but he couldn’t know that. Not now, or ever.

“Yes, yes, and you lot plotted my death with my brother,” there was something saccharine about the way Klaus smirked at her, a cold look in his eyes. “You should be lucky that I’m in a good mood, or you all would be dead.”

Bonnie couldn’t resist it then, if Damon was infuriating, Klaus was seemed to hit where it hurt. Even if Elena was alive, Jenna wasn’t. All the work, all their planning had amounted to nothing, and now Klaus had absolute control, unlimited power. “You should be lucky your brother betrayed us, or you would be dead.”

For a moment, the look on his face froze, but he recovered quickly. “My brother is a bit of a….sentimental fool.”

“Where is he?” She asked, wondering why any of them had ever trusted Elijah, but also wondering what Klaus had done with him.

“Indisposed, I’m afraid,” Klaus’ cheeks dimpled as he smiled, something entirely too superior and pleased in his gaze, “but I’m not here to talk about him. You see, I’m leaving town.”

“Great,” she muttered. Klaus was leaving, and Damon might die. While she wasn’t happy about Damon dying, she wasn’t exactly regretting it either.

“Without a witch,” Klaus looked down at her significantly then, and she had a bad feeling, “someone killed mine you see.”

“So what?”

“I’d like you to accompany me.”

She grit her teeth, focusing on him as she allowed the magic to flow out of her like water in a dam. Hitting her target with force. She could see the pain in his eyes, the way he clutched his head, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, her body and magic drained from the power she had lost during the sacrifice.

She was breathing hard by the time she was done, and was pleased to see that some of the amusement had drained from his face.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

For a moment, she thought Klaus would lash out, react in anger, but that was gone fleetingly too. “As I said, I am in a nice mood, given that the curse binding me has broken, but I do still need a witch sweetheart and you would do well not to defy me.”

“I’m sure there are other witches you can find.”

“Perhaps, and yet, you are no ordinary witch, are you?” He stepped closer to the boundary of her house, his footsteps heavy on her porch, “you are a Bennett witch, and you were strong enough to almost kill me. Your ancestor was just as special, perhaps even stronger than you.” His hands were on the doorframe now, and she tilted her head.

“You knew Emily?”

“I knew Ayanna, a thousand years ago.” She frowned as she tried to remember grams’ rambles, any mention of a witch like that, “after she died, my brother took possession of all her grimoires. Of course, they lie with me now.”

“You think I’ll go with you because of a few grimoires? After everything you’ve done?” Anger rolled in her stomach and fire lit up within her throat, the flames of it rushing out through her tongue, hoping futilely to burn him.

“Well, love,” and then her heart stopped as he crossed over the threshold and entered into her house, “I was thinking the motivation of keeping your father alive would spur you to make the make the right decision. Not to mention all those friends of yours,” he gripped her shoulders and leaned towards her. Her fingers clenched into fists, and she thought of all the spells she knew, of all the things she could do to him. “One bite from me, and it would be the end of Caroline.”

“How did you-”

“It seems your father only wore vervain, he didn’t consume it.” The fire in her was replaced by shards of ice stabbing her from the inside, cold fear spreading through her veins as she thought of her dad. “Relax love, nothing’s happened to him yet. Although he was kind enough to invite me inside.”

She thought of Elena, the deal she had made with Elijah, despite how badly it had failed, she wasn’t sure there was anything else she could do. The witches’ power had left her, and without it, she wasn’t sure she could take Klaus down permanently. Damon and Stefan maybe, but not Klaus. Not yet.

“So what? If I leave with you, you won’t hurt them?”

“If you leave with me, help me,” his hands glided over her shoulders to her neck, warm on her skin, “I won’t have reason to come back to this town. And they’d be safe. You can even speak to your father if you wish.”

“Do you think you’re doing me a favour?”

“Well, this could all be a lot more unpleasant, little witch.”

She knew that, and she had also known how desperately Luka and Jonas had looked for Greta. How Klaus had seduced her away. She wondered now, if it wasn’t something more like this, like threats and the promise of power that he had used to take her with him. Besides, if he really did have those grimoires, along with others, she could eventually grow strong enough to kill him.

He’d stay away from here too, away from her father, and her friends. From Elena.

“Fine. But I have a few conditions too.”

He seemed pleased as he looked down at her, and she wondered what she had gotten herself into.

@feralcherry Thanks for encouraging me to write it! @sevensistersofsussex @jennifersminds @amandamonroe

#klonnie #klaus mikaelson #bonnie bennet #the vampire diaries #this was supposed to be a drabble #but it's 900 words longer instead #one- shot #my first time writing Bonnie #so I'm sorry if she's ooc

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xavisavgel · 1 year

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Cant get him out of my head so here’s this

warnings ig? : mentions reader wearing a bra

convincing xavier to give you your first stick and poke tattoo, he finally gives in on the condition that he gets to pick the tattoo and the placement. you trust xavier not to tattoo anything too crazy on you so you agree and when the time comes he asks you to meet him in his art shed after school.

when you get there you see that he’s cleared off enough table space you to lie down on it, complete with a towel covering it and another one rolled up acting as a pillow. you hop up on the table and look over and see he has a couple needles and mini cups of ink.

“where’d you get needles on such short notice?” you ask curious, “Wednesday. she had extra unused ones left over from her parents birthday gift” he responds “of course she did” you laughed slightly as a comfortable silence, minus the music he has playing in the background, takes over while he finishes getting everything organized. eventually he tells you to lay on your side and lift your shirt slightly. you’re like ??? because first of all the ribs is a moderately painful place to get a first tattoo and secondly that’s a very intimate place to get a tattoo, especially from xavier.

you look at him, eyes widening a bit and he just tells you to trust the process. “what if the pain is to much?” “you’re more than welcome to hold my hand if you need to” he’s such a flirt.

you do as he says and lay on the table, facing away from him obviously because you knew your warm face and neck would’ve been a dead give away to how much his proximity was affecting you. you jump slightly as he places a cool alcohol pad on your side and wipes the area he’s gonna be working on. he sits down on a stool and asks you if you’re ready and you breathe in deeply and nod bracing yourself for the pain.

you gasp as his none dominant hand slides across your stomach making goosebumps rise and he chuckles a bit holding you steady while the hand holding the needle sits in it’s starting place pinky out and rubbing against the underside of your bra to keep his hand from being shaky, so he says. you’re hyper aware of every move he makes and are tempted to break the tension by joking about how he’s not wearing gloves. you’d run the risk of him actually getting up to find gloves though and you quite like the rough feeling of his fingertips sliding over your skin as you breathe in and out. so you settle for closing you eyes and trying not to tremble as he starts poking your skin repeatedly, etching a piece of his art onto you forever.

it’s hard to hold a conversation with xavier when he’s deep into his artistic mode so you just enjoy the chase atlantic playlist he has playing while becoming numb to the feeling of a needle being stabbed into you continuously. he checks in with you often to make sure you’re still okay before he eventually finishes and leans away to grab a mirror so you can see the tattoo fully.

it’s the bud of a flower that has not yet bloomed. you look at him in confusion hundred of questions running through your mind about why he choose this as a tattoo. before you can get a single question out though he raises his hand and the flower bud blooms into a beautiful red spider lily, your favorite. you stare at him on shock as you didn’t know his artwork cold move on anything other that paper. you have the sneaky suspicion he didn’t either seeing as his expression basically mirrors yours.

“Xavier, what would’ve happened if that little trick of yours didn’t work?”

“… i would’ve owed you a very big apology.”

now every time he greets you or says goodbye, he runs his hand up your side to make the flower bloom. it’s a cute little secret you guys share :))

#i am down so horrendously bad for him it scares me #this was supposed to be a drabble #…clearly i got carried away #love him tho #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fic #wednesday series #my first time writing please be gentle

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eddieintheupsidedown · 1 year

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this was supposed to be a super short draft but i got carried away and now it’s 2k words and cross posted on ao3

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au where vecna didn’t happen and steve and eddie became buddies purely through association with dustin

eventually steve has enough of the kids™️ always talking about dnd without knowing what’s going on, so he joins them just to watch. eddie doesn’t like gawkers at his dnd sessions so he invites steve to hang after the session to come up with a character so he can join the next session and steve happily(?) obliges

he feels weird about steve the hair harrington being in his trailer at night but hey if dustin likes this guy then he must be at least a little bit cool

one night they get together to work on steve’s character and decide to have a few beers. those turn into a lot of beers and before he knows it, steve is passed out on the couch in the trailer, spilling the rest of his beer over his shirt in the process. eddie is asleep right next to him, their legs tangled together

they wake up the next morning to eddie’s alarms, he actually makes an effort to get to school on time now. this is his year after all! both boys jump at the sound of the alarm clock and steve scrambles to grab his stuff, noticing how sticky and gross his shirt is from the beer he spilled

eddie offers him one of his shirts, goes to look for a clean one (he hasn’t done laundry in a while, don’t tell his uncle) and the only clean shirt he finds is one of his 3 hellfire club shirts. because of course he has 3 of those. he throws steve the shirt and picks a semi-clean one off the floor for himself.

steve pulls off his sticky shirt and goes to put on the hellfire club shirt “thanks…does that mean i’m officially in the club?”

eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, as THE steve Harrington is shirtless in his trailer. he’s seen him shirtless before (steve used to love pulling off his shirts after winning games) but never this close up, and he doesn’t know why his stomach feels like that right now. all crazy and excited. oh no, he can’t even reply to steve’s dumb question so he just shrugs and turns away, before changing his own shirt

they take steve’s car to school, eddie doesn’t know how he’s gonna get back home later but that’s not a problem for right now. people very obviously stare at him when he gets out of steve’s car. Harrington and then freak hung out? no one wants to believe it. and then steve steps out of the car. the flannel he’s wearing unbuttoned. showing off the hellfire club shirt that’s obviously not his size. it’s just a little too small for him

people start whispering right away, coming up with all sorts of wild theories because no one wants to believe those two could be friends

they part ways to get to their respective classes, but when steve sits down at the hellfire table at lunch, the whole cafeteria goes silent. no one dares to say anything, not even eddie who usually can’t shut up. steve doesn’t seem to notice though, he sat right next to eddie and after eating a few bites, turns to him and starts talking about his dnd character creation again

this continues for a few weeks. they hang out after school to teach steve dnd, get drinks together sometimes, steve actually starts coming to hellfire weekly and joins the campaign, although not without protest from mike, which is promptly shut down by eddie and will

Eddie’s hellfire club shirt is still sitting in steve’s closet. he wore it a few more times since he got it from eddie. doesn’t mind that it doesn’t really fit him. slowly he notices how nervous he gets around eddie, when he tells robin she slaps the back of his head and calls him an idiot, she was probably the first one to notice the massive crushes the two guys have on each other. but steve refuses to admit it. he can’t.

once wayne comes back from his business trip, they start hanging out at steve’s house instead. they sit in steve’s room just chatting. about movies, dnd, school.. anything really. they both enjoy how comfortable they are in each other’s presence, but neither of them has the balls to admit it. one thing leads to another and eddie decides to sleep over at steve’s house. steve tells him to grab anything from his closet as pajamas if he wants to.

he doesn’t know what he expected to find in steve’s closet, but it sure wasn’t a bunch of shirts just shoved in there and then… the hellfire club shirt, folded carefully and placed on the top shelf. his hellfire club shirt. he should probably take that back and get steve his own shirt that actually fits. but he can’t bring himself to take it. he’s seen steve’s face when he wears it to school. so he just picks a random shirt from the messy pile on the middle shelf

the shirt is too big on him when he puts it on. not awkwardly big, just a little oversized. he doesn’t mind. he also doesn’t mind the way the heat creeps up his neck when he notices steve’s scent on the shirt. at this point he’s admitted his crush on steve to wayne , who encouraged him to go for it. wayne has seen the way the two boys look at each other when the other isn’t looking. he’s not stupid. but eddie is afraid, doesn’t know how to even start a conversation like that or if steve will hate him and kick him out and never speak to him again. he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship they have formed

steve’s bed is huge, his couch isn’t. so they decide to just share the bed. eddie gets his own blanket and pillow and they build a small wall of pillows between them, neither of them know why they did that but they just did. as they both lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, eddie says something. so quietly that steve can hardly make it out.

“i’m gay”

steve thinks he must be imagining it, his half asleep brain conjuring up wild dreams of his crush also being into men, “cool. me too”

Eddie freezes. did steve just say he’s gay too? his heart is racing in his chest and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle, scared that he’s asleep and if he moves he’ll wake up. but both boys are awake and just admitted their biggest secrets to each other. steve slowly turns to eddie, they didn’t put a pillow up between their heads, and looks at him. “did you just say something or did i dream that?”

eddie still doesn’t dare to move, he breathes out a quiet “yeah” and closes his eyes tightly, scared steve will kick him out now. but steve turns back, looks up at the ceiling again “cool cool…”

neither of them speak about this conversation after that moment. eddie stops asking steve to hang out after school, says something about having to help wayne with some work.

the next hellfire meeting is weirdly awkward. everyone in the room can tell but no one knows why.

eddie doesn’t even know why he’s avoiding steve. maybe because he doesn’t want the chance of rejection by his crush feel real. maybe he’s avoiding confronting his feelings about steve.

after their dnd session steve drives the kids home, he offers to take eddie back home too and the other boy shyly accepts. steve drops the kids off first. the trailer park is closer to his house so this makes the most sense. when it’s just the two of them in the car, an awkward silence settles in. neither of them dare to speak, until steve parks infront of eddie’s trailer. they can see the lights on inside, wayne is home. but eddie doesn’t leave the car. he sits in silence and stares out the window.

“i’m gay” he says, playing with his rings, “i just..: want you to know in case you wanna like… stop being friends”

steve nods, “i know… i heard you when you slept over. and it’d be kinda weird for me to be homophobic, considering i’m like.. super gay too. i didn’t really know until recently though. robin helped me figure that out, i guess that’s why i never really dated a girl for more than a week. well except nancy. but now nancy is like family so maybe that’s weird too” he keeps rambling on, until he hears eddie chuckle. he hasn’t heard that sound in too long, and only now realizes how much he missed it. eddie invites him into the trailer, they watch a shitty movie together and have a beer. at the end of the night steve goes home.

they go kind of back to normal after that. except for one thing. there’s so much tension between them. they still hang out and drink, just like before. but now they both know. the chance of something happening between them isn’t zero. even robin notices when eddie comes to pick up steve from family video one night.

it takes them a few more weeks to address the tension. they’re sat on eddie’s couch, closer than they used to sit, their legs barely touching, each with a beer in their hands, when steve turns to eddie. he didn’t expect the following words to come out his mouth but they do, with no warning and no filter.

“i like you. kiss me”

and eddie stares at him, jaw almost hitting the floor. he slowly puts his beer down on the coffee table, steve copies him. both still staring at each other. “what are you saying harrington?” eddie leans in close. very close. steve can smell the beer on his breath but he doesn’t back off. he leans in closer, looking eddie in the eyes.

“i like you. kiss me” he repeats, still staring.

and so eddie does. he gently places his hand on steve’s cheek, pulling him closer before connecting their lips. steve kisses back with no hesitation, his arms finding their way around eddies neck to pull him closer, if they could they would fuse together into one being, that’s how close they are now.

eddie uses his free hand to hold steve’s hip, gently pulling him onto his lap, where steve’s legs instinctively wraps around eddie.

they don’t take it any further. they just sit like this and kiss for a good 20 minutes, only pulling away a few seconds at a time to catch their breaths, before diving right back. Once eddie finally pulls away and looks at steve, he sees how red the other’s lips are, his face is flushed, hair messy and he’s staring right back at him. they sit like this and just stare at each other for another 5 minutes before eddie speaks up.

“so this is how king steve kisses? i get all those girls now” steve chuckles and lighty hits his shoulder, before burying his face in the crook of eddie’s neck. eventually they fall asleep like this, without speaking another word.

eddie wakes up first the next morning, he carefully lifts steve off himself and gets up, trying to throw together something that resembles breakfast with the limited supplies the tiny kitchen has. he finally find some probably stale cereal and prepares 2 bowls for them, turning around to the couch, where he sees steve. He’s now awake and carefully watching eddie, biting his lips and fiddling with his hands.

“Mornin’ Big boy” eddie smirks and hands steve the bowl, sitting back down next to him.

they sit and eat in silence for a while, spoons clinking against the bowls. eventually steve looks at eddie, the same adoring look in his eyes as he had the night before. and then steve takes all the courage he has and kisses eddie again and within moments they’re entangled, the same was as the first time they kissed.

they spend the rest of the day together. between kissing and whispering sweet nonsense to each other, they figure out that they’ve been crushing on each other for months now. since before steve came to watch hellfire. steve has been crushing on eddie since the day he snuck into a bar and happened to catch a corroded coffin set. eddie has been crushing on steve since steve nonchalantly picked up a pen for him in the hallway 2 years ago.

it still takes them a few days to officially start dating but when they do, they don’t hide it. they don’t openly tell anyone, except their friends and uncle wayne. but they also don’t shy away from hanging out in the school courtyard, at family video every day and wherever else they manage to find time together

#wrote this at 6:30. why does my brain always do this to me #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #dnd #steve and eddie #steve harrington my beloved #stranger things au #hellfire club #this was supposed to be a drabble #i got carried away #why is it 2k words now #does this count as domestic steddie?#domestic steddie #they’re gay your honor

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xinhua-jun · 1 year

Note

Prickcest prompt!!! Yayy

Ok, here it is: Morty wearing Primes jacket

(also tysm for sharing the post <3 my typing hands are getting tired, need more hands on deck!)

HI SWEETIE <3 sorry I’m just answering this 🥹 life has been hectic OTL (that’s great!! you deserve the attention!! your drabbles are SO Good, I love them. <3)

He finds it by accident.

Morty just turned thirteenth and he’s all alone at home; his mom was out the door before she even finished saying happy birthday, Summer went out with her friends after tousling his hair and wishing him a good day, and his dad promised to bake him a cake after buying the ingredients. They’re all going to take hours to come back, and he’s bored out of his mind.

What are lonely and bored thirteen-year-olds supposed to do if not explore?

The garage has been locked for as long as he can remember. Neither of his parents ever uses it, always parking in the driveway. Usually, his mom doesn’t really mind what any of them does, but the door leading to that part of the house has always been a no-no in her books. His dad tried to open it once and she got so mad not even Summer dared to make snippy comments about it afterwards. Dad never tried it again.

So nobody ever goes in there. Not even her, not really—Morty has only ever seen her try to once, and it was late at night when she was really drunk. He had gone down to the kitchen to get a glass of water but stopped short when he saw her standing there, trying to get the door to open, but she kept missing the keyhole and soon she gave up with a soft thunk of her head against the wood. Morty had silently gone back to bed with his mom’s distressed expression ingrained in his brain.

It’s safe to say Morty is really curious about whatever’s behind it.

Lucky for him, he knows exactly where his mom keeps the garage keys hidden.

He closes the door behind himself in case anybody gets home earlier than expected; better to make them think he’s out as well than to get caught in here. Mom can get really scary when it comes to this place.

However, it proves not to be the smartest move. While it is not yet the summer, maybe Morty should have remembered that the A/C doesn’t redirect here and that the place has been sealed for who knows how long.

He’s been stuffed into worse places and for longer periods of time at school, though, so he can suck it up for a little bit. Especially when Morty’s high hopes and exhilaration taper off when he realizes it’s just a regular room.

Morty doesn’t know what he was expecting, but after the big deal his mom made about it he didn’t think it would be just that!

There’s nothing extraordinary about it. There’s a shelf with things strewn all over, boxes stacked on top of each other, and a workbench on the opposite wall. The floor has a thick layer of dust and that only confirms what Morty already knew: nobody has been here in ages.

He’s about to turn around to go sulk in disappointment in the comfort of his room—geez, is it stuffy in here—when a box high up on the shelf catches his attention. Something has been completely blacked out only for DAD’S STUFF to be scrawled under it in black, thick letters.

Morty immediately knows that’s what he’s looking for, without even having known he was doing so up until now.

As all thirteen-year-olds do, naturally, he has to check it out.

It turns out not to be much. There’s an empty box of cigarettes, a wallet and a broken wristwatch. He opens the wallet to find a picture of his mom when she was a little kid being held by who he now knows is his grandfather. Mom is smiling widely into the camera, and while his grandfather does the same, there’s something about his expression that makes Morty uneasy. He chalks it up to the discomfort strangers always bring Morty and decides to let it go to focus instead on the last item at the bottom of the box.

It’s a jacket.

Morty stares at it with wide, curious eyes. He bites his lip, looks towards the door leading back into the house. He taps his foot on the floor.

Morty puts on the jacket.

It’s almost a fit. Apparently he and his grandpa share a similar bulk—that is to say, lanky as hell—if not for the sleeves swallowing his hands by a long shot. The jacket is mostly dark, sans the magenta patches adorning the sides.

It’s a comfy jacket. He starts cooling down, somehow, but he ignores it in favor of noticing the many inside pockets it has, which is fun and has him wondering about all the things his grandfather could have used them for. It even feels good against his skin, unlike most of the clothes his parents keep trying to buy him.

Morty looks back at the door.

Nobody ever comes in here…

The sound of the car pulling into the driveway has Morty hastily putting everything back in its place. He locks the door and hides the keys in record time and then books it upstairs just in time for his mom to call out his name.

“My room!” Morty calls out, only to stare down, horrified, at the hand holding onto the doorknob.

The hand covered in an oversized sleeve.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

He can hear his mom walking up the stairs. Morty rips the jacket off, panics for a second. He looks around. His eyes fall on his bed and like a light bulb going on, the word association in his brain kicks in.

Bed. Under. Secrets. Yosemite shirt. Hiding nook!

He’s innocently sitting on his bed when his mom opens his door.

“Hey, sweetie.” She looks tired, but she still manages a smile for him.

Something warm unfurls inside his chest. It’s moments like this that make him feel wanted, even if a little.

If she didn’t love him she wouldn’t even bother, right?

“H-hi, mom.” He smiles back, fiddling with his Rubik’s cube. He’s suddenly grateful for the mess he left on his bed before going down to snoop. “How, how was the emergency surgeries?” He frowns, suddenly worried. “Are th-th-the horses okay?”

Her smile turns a little warmer now. “Yes, sweetie. They’re alright. I just had to stay back to help Davin with the paperwork.”

“Oh,” Morty relaxes. “What’s up, then?”

“Your dad called me on the way here.” She turns her head sideways to crack her neck; Morty flinches slightly, but her eyes are closed and so she doesn’t notice. “He was asking if you wanted a vanilla or a strawberry cake.”

Morty feels himself light up. “Vanilla!”

His mom turns around as she gets her phone out. “Vanilla it is.”

Morty doesn’t have a chance to wear the jacket again until exactly a year later, when Rick comes crashing into their lives—literally—and sweeps him off his feet with the promise of a birthday adventure.

Except.

Rick stares at him blankly when he meets him at the spaceship—a spaceship! How cool is that?!—and for a moment Morty thinks he’s going to get mad at him—it is his jacket, after all—but all he does is frown and look out the windshield, tighten his hold on the steering wheel—and oh, Morty understands now where his mom gets it from—before telling him to buckle up.

That’s the first of many yet-to-come near-death experiences he will have in his lifetime. He’s too busy having a meltdown about it to notice that the jacket is still in one piece and so is the skin underneath it even though his jeans are ruined and his legs scratched. He never gets a chance to either, afterwards, because once he passes out he forgets about the jacket completely.

#🎐#rickorty #morty smith #rick prime #rick sanchez #rick and morty #mindblowers #things I write #glo #I’m so sorry I got carried away #ksnsksns #this was supposed to be a drabble #instead you get a Morty who’s too curious for his own good and a dash of angst ✨for flavor✨#idk how long it got but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

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gumi-gang · 2 years

Text

SECRET ADMIRER KENMA x gn!reader

wc: 969

someone’s been leaving notes on your desk for a while now. it began a few weeks ago, two days after you cut your hair way shorter than you normally would. ‘your new hair suits you,’ the note read. at first you thought someone had just forgot to sign the note, and that it was from one of your friends that you hadn’t had the chance to see since you’ve been so busy studying for the upcoming exam season.

that was until you received a second note two days later. this time accompanied by a cartoon of strawberry milk from the vending machine, which you normally get yourself during lunch. the note reads, ‘don’t work yourself too hard. make sure to take care of yourself.’ the thoughtful words don’t fail in making your blush. it’s nice to be reminded that people care about your well being. however, it’s once again not signed, and as you sip on your drink at your desk you go through a mental list of your friends, wondering which one it could be.

over the weeks you’ve become a detective of sorts. the notes keep coming, now daily instead of sporadically throughout the week. sometimes accompanied by a cartoon of strawberry milk, or the candy you like, but mostly alone. you collect all the notes you’ve received and kept them in a box in your desk, every once and a while shuffling through it. you tell yourself that it’s to analyze the handwriting and to check if there are any clues that give away the identity of the sender. however, from the deep blush and huge smile on your face, anyone looking closely can tell that you’ve begun to indulge in the flattery your admirer provides you.

you also begin to use your role as class representative to collect information on your fellow classmates. cross analyzing handwriting and writing style between class assignments and notes, you fail to make any consistent matches. eventually, you decide to stake out your admirer by watching your seat from the hallway.

“what are you doing?” a voice asks you from behind, as you stake out your seat. you jump with fright, but quickly your adrenaline subsides as you look over to see your best friend kenma from two classes down standing next to you. he’d never call you his best friend, but if you add up all the times he’s allowed you to tag along with him and kuroo after school, the times you’ve went over to his house to watch him play video games as you read in the corner of his room, and the times that you’ve spent hanging out on the weekends, you’ve got enough time to foster a friendship strong enough that almost nothing could break.

“jeez, you scared me,” you tell him. “i’m trying to stake out my seat to see if i get another note.” kenma doesn’t even bat an eyelash at your antics. the fact that you have binoculars doesn’t even faze him. you told him and kuroo about the notes after having received the first one. while you’ve listed theories on who it might be or why they chose to remain anonymous, kenma hasn’t proven to be much help in trying to discover the secret identity of your admirer. kuroo pretends to help by encouraging you to keep trying to find hidden messages in the notes, but you know that he’s just trying to catch you making a fool out of yourself.

“everyone can see you y/n,” kenma informs you. “no one is gonna leave a note if they know you’re trying to catch them.” you frown at his words, but also put away your binoculars in defeat.

“don’t look so sad,” he rests his arm on your shoulder. “maybe they’ll confess soon and then you won’t have to act like a spy in between class periods.” you let out a deep breath and nod. kenma’s been trying to get you to stop trying to figure out your admirer’s identity for quite some time, because, as he constantly reminds you, they probably aren’t ready to admit their feelings for you to your face yet, and you should give them some time. “look i got you a strawberry milk from the vending machine,” he opens your backpack and slips it into one of the pockets. “volleyball practice got pushed back a little later today so kuroo and i can’t walk home with you today, but i’ll see you later. let me know if you need anything, okay?” he sends you a soft smile and a wave as he walks back to his class.

it isn’t until that night, when you’re doing your homework, that you notice a piece of paper sticking out from your math textbook. from the handwriting you recognize that it’s another note from your secret admirer. it reads: ‘i love the happiness in your eyes. i hope one day you look at me with those same eyes and behind them will be love.’ you blush and stare at the note, reading and rereading its words. you wonder how the sender could have managed to place the note in your textbook when you’ve been carrying it all day, but you can’t think about it too much. your brain it unable to process any logic when your heart is filling your body with joy.

once you’ve regained some sort of control on your emotions you call kenma to tell him about the note. he picks up immediately. before he can get any words out to greet you, you tell him about the note and listens to you gush over how sweet your secret admirer is. he listens to you with his heart full. maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell you how much he loves you to your face.

gumi-gang @ 2022

all contents and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.

#this was supposed to be a drabble #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma scenario

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an-sceal · 1 year

Text

Robby’s eyes flick toward the bikini babe poster in the dining room, then the stack of Hot Rod magazines on the coffee table. "Suuuure. Everything about you screams 'cool with gay guys', right?"

Robby has made it pretty clear all along that he doesn't want anything Johnny has to offer. That at the end of the day, the only connection they've got is a DNA test and Johnny’s spare room. Robby only talks to him to pick a fight, and the few times he's tried for a little more Robby has shut down, putting on headphones and ignoring him until he goes away.

It's not the first time Johnny’s loved someone who's never going to love him back, though. And unlike before, he's got the chance and perspective not to entirely fuck this up.

"I was in love with a guy in high school. Senior year."

#this was supposed to be a drabble #cobra kai #cobra kai fanfic #lawrusso #johnny lawrence #daniel larusso #cobra kai fanfiction #karate kid fanfic #robby keene #what happens when your redemption!baby!(tm) is a 16 year old #this is an au did i mention?

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northerngoshawk · 2 years

Note

stabbing

stabby stab stab.

also torture.

protecting you

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

The rough sackcloth was suddenly ripped from his head, and Aang found himself in a dungeon.

Well, he assumed it was a dungeon, what with the small, dank enclosure, the brick walls that pressed down on them, the flickering orange-red flames that danced on the slim torchwood, the glint of chains attached to the walls.

He grunted as someone was shoved in right next to him, and the clank of armor sounded as two feet appeared in his vision. Moments later, the sackcloth was ripped from the person's head. Aang turned to see a dark mane of hair framing ice-cold eyes and lips twisted in a snarl.

His heart sank.

Katara.

Katara's eyes flicked wildly about, as though trying to take in everything. When her eyes landed on him, they immediately widened. "Aang," she gasped. A flurry of emotions flashed on her face—relief, regret, worry, fear, horror, and more, too many for him to count.

Aang leaned in, lowering his voice so the guards wouldn't overhear. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

Katara slowly shook her head, although there was still that look of fear and horror on her face as she looked at him.