#this is such a ridiculous drabble
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Steve was doing this for Robin.
He had to keep telling himself this. He could get through the day, the weekend, life, if he just kept repeating this to himself.
But an hour into their day, his pants ripped.
Not in a place it can be hidden, not a small one.
Right along his ass.
And because Robin insisted he’d be fine, he didn’t bring a bag with a change of clothes.
He could buy some, sure, if he wanted to spend $60 on special convention sweatpants that would be entirely too hot, unflattering, and ruin the costume Robin insisted he wear to match hers.
He was hiding in the bathroom currently, furiously texting Robin to let her know he was just going to stay there until it was time to leave.
She’d be mad at him, but she’d be more mad at herself for not letting him bring a change of clothes.
His pants weren’t even tight. Luke Skywalker doesn’t exactly wear tight clothes. He had no reason behind the rip other than the universe just hating him as much as possible.
Robin told him she would find someone to help, whatever that means, but he didn’t think that was possible without just buying new pants.
He stood in the corner of the continuously crowded bathroom, trying not to draw attention, but knowing it was incredibly odd to just stand in the corner of a public bathroom.
Ten minutes passed and a guy walked in with a backpack and a sign that says “Free Cosplay Repair” and Steve knew what Robin had done.
The man was pretty, and not dressed up, but seemed like he wished he was. Maybe it was difficult to repair if he was wearing some elaborate costume.
Steve didn’t know how this worked.
“Are you Steve?”
Steve nodded.
His voice was calming, and Steve instantly trusted him to fix the problem.
“Heard you’ve got a bit of a problem with the costume. Big or small?”
“Uh. Pretty big, man.”
“Ah. Tear along the ass, then. Happens all the time.”
He set his backpack down and started rummaging through the front pocket. When he pulled out a sewing kit, Steve realized he was going to have to get this fixed in a public bathroom with this very attractive man staring at and touching his ass for who knows how long.
“Um.”
“It’ll be better if you can take them off. I’ll be able to sew it much faster.”
Steve couldn’t just stand around in his boxers. That was not part of the plan or the agreement with Robin. People were coming and going from the bathroom at a rapid rate.
“Is there somewhere private we can go?”
“Awww, Stevie, feeling shy?”
Steve’s face was beet red. He was feeling a little shy, and being called out on it by a hot guy kind of made him think about being called out on other things in other ways and his brain was not doing well.
“My name’s Eddie. I come with my friend Chrissy to a bunch of these every year. We have a tent set up on the show floor for privacy, but you’d have to walk to it. I could walk behind you if you want?”
“Oh. Okay. Um. Sure.”
It was better than standing half naked in this bathroom.
So they left, and Eddie stayed right behind him, covering him from possible exposure to the growing crowd.
He would lean forward and direct him to the tent every few seconds, leaving goosebumps behind from how close he got to his ear to be heard.
When they arrived, Chrissy was finishing up with supergluing something to a mask. Eddie touched her shoulder and whispered something to her. She rolled her eyes and smiled at him before turning back to the person she was helping.
Eddie nudged Steve into their tent.
“Alright, shouldn’t take too long. Take them off, Luke.”
Steve rolled his eyes but followed directions. The faster this was done, the faster he could get back to Robin, who was probably so deep into the crowd by now that he’d never find her anyways.
Maybe he should just stay here. Learn to sew. Become a part of their traveling repair team.
They seemed nice enough.
Eddie got started immediately, and Steve was grateful for the privacy the tent provided. He sat down on a stool they had set up in the corner and put his hands in his lap, covering as much of himself as he could. He was definitely not confident in this place.
He’d embraced that he liked some nerdy things. He was fine with it.
But he was way out of his element here.
“You come to these a lot?”
“No. Just supporting my friend.”
“Explains not being as prepared as the pros.”
“I did try to be. My friend said I’d be fine. Don’t know why I listened to her.”
Eddie snorted. “She a friend or a…friend?”
Steve laughed so loudly, Eddie jumped. “Sorry. She’s very much not straight and I am very much not interested.”
“Is she Leia?”
“Yeah.”
“Everyone will assume you’re together, you know?”
“Yeah, well. She said I had to and I owed her.”
“Must’ve done you a big favor.”
“You could say that.”
Eddie’s hands were moving quickly, and Steve couldn’t help watching in amazement.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“What? Sewing? Or conventions?”
“Both.”
Eddie smiled while he worked.
“Sewing since I was 11. I was in charge of fixing my and my uncle’s clothes since we couldn’t really afford new ones unless I outgrew them. Then in high school I did costumes for drama and cheerleaders. That’s how I met Chrissy. She was a secret nerd so she took me to a convention and I saw too many people crying over broken and torn cosplays so I started doing this.”
“For free?”
“Yeah. I already had most of the supplies on hand and I’m not using them all so why not?”
“That’s really…kind.”
He saw Eddie’s cheeks blush, but he didn’t comment.
Maybe he’d gain some upper hand here despite being half naked in a tent with a stranger.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It kind of is, man. Just take the compliment. It’s really selfless.”
“Okay. Yeah. I guess. Thanks.”
They settled into a comfortable silence and Steve really took in the tent. There were things hanging up that he vaguely recognized as D&D monsters from Dustin’s room.
“Hey, the kid I babysit is into that.”
“What?”
“The dungeons game.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! I think he even has that exact print in his room.”
“No shit? I made these. I have an Etsy shop.”
“You’re kidding. He’s gonna freak out that I met you.”
“Well, shit. Take one for him.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Yeah you could. I’m not letting you leave until you do.”
Steve felt his heart flutter.
Dustin was like his little brother and he loved him so much. Any time someone did something kind for him, it melted his heart.
He didn’t have time for feelings for a stranger.
Not at a convention where he was the outcast.
“I guess if you insist.”
“I do.”
Steve was a fucking mess. Emotionally, he was the type to get really attached really quickly. It’s why all of his relationships ended within weeks. He was ready to be completely committed and they never were. He fell hard and fast for anyone who showed him even a tiny bit of interest.
He had to get out of this tent.
“I’m not rushing you, but how much longer?”
“I’m almost done. Few more minutes. Doing okay?”
“Yeah. Just wanna find Robin.”
“Text her to meet you here. She knows where it is.”
“How would she know that?”
“I’ve met her a few times at other conventions and she always stops by to say hello.”
Robin knew this guy?
Suddenly, he realized what was going on.
She was setting him up.
“Take your time. She can wait.”
Eddie slowed his hands and looked up at Steve.
“Uh. Okay.”
“She’s a traitor who did this to me on purpose.”
“Ripped your pants?”
“Yes.”
Eddie stopped what he was doing completely.
“She ripped your pants on purpose? How would she have done that?”
“She pulled a seam out or something.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s trying to set us up.”
“Us?!”
“Yep. Sorry. I promise I don’t expect anything. She just does this sometimes. Thinks I’m lonely or whatever.”
Eddie searched his face for a minute, then looked back down at his work.
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Lonely.”
Well, yeah. Robin didn’t get the assumption from nowhere. But he didn’t really want to admit that to a stranger.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Apparently, he was going to anyways.
“Hm.”
“Hm?”
“Mhm.”
Steve huffed out a breath.
Eddie stood suddenly and came over to Steve, pushing his shoulder back and his legs apart so he could fit between them.
Eddie’s hand cupped his chin, pulling it up so he could look at him.
Steve gulped.
He was feeling more than vulnerable at this point and wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Your friend must really love you to want to make sure you aren’t lonely.”
“Um. Yeah.”
“You know, I’m taking a lunch break in about an hour if you wanna hang around. I could use some company.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. One condition though.”
“What’s that?”
“You take the pants off again.”
Steve laughed and Eddie couldn’t help the smile he aimed down at him.
“You want me to eat in just my boxers?”
“Well, not just your boxers. That’ll be later at the hotel.”
God, this guy was good. Smoother than Steve’s ever been and he was known for his charming nature for years.
“You think I’ll come back to your hotel?”
“I know you will.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I only temporarily fixed these pants. The stuff you need is back at my room.”
“What if I don’t care about the pants?”
“All the more reason to leave them off when you come to my room.”
They smiled at each other.
Steve felt brave. He felt a little ridiculous. Most of all, he felt like he couldn’t pass up the opportunity literally staring him in the face.
He leaned up a bit more and waited for Eddie to lean down.
When their lips met, Steve knew he was completely fucked.
Robin had fucked him over and he’d never been so grateful.
#steddie#Steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#inspired by the amazing people who walk around conventions fixing cosplay for free#and inspired by people like me who don’t have a clue what they’re doing but just there for the ride#I wrote this in my car in a parking garage in Orlando lmao#sorry for typos or if it feels ridiculous and rushed#it’s because it is
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husband! gojo finally convinces you to stop staying up til the crack of dawn awaiting his return home. he cares too much about your well-being, and someone would have to kill him dead anyway before he just never came back. you go to bed at a decent time that same night, and your lover comes home to find you passed out in his shirt and all snuggled up with his pillow.
he loves that you’re getting some sleep, but he’s also….jealous of the pillow? usually gojo comes home to your warm embrace and sleepy kisses—something he does miss right now, but he’ll pester you for plenty of your affections in the morning. that should be him cradled up in your arms, him being squeezed to your chest. him cuddled up and being clung to like he’d disappear if you let go.
blue eyes narrow at what should be an empty spot beside you; the feelings haven’t subsided when gojo finishes his shower, and he borderline yanks the cushion from your grasp, slotting himself between your limbs and mentally cursing when you begin to rouse from slumber. he gives your forehead a soft peck, whispering sweet nothings to lull you back to sleep, and then places that blasted, home-wrecking pillow beneath his head to drift off.
tagz: @elusivemoon @anthoosies @staryukis @yunymphs @sttoru :3
#i am of the firm belief he’s be jealous of things that r his own fault if that makes sense#jealous that ur hugging the stuffie (that he bought you)#hides the new sweater he got you bc you’re not wearing HIS clothes anymore#he’s ridiculous. anyway#satoru gojo headcanons#satoru gojo imagine#gojo satoru drabble#satoru gojo drabble#jjk imagine#jjk drabble#gojo x reader drabble#x reader drabble#jjk x reader drabble#gojo satoru imagine
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Eddie flounders, arms flailing as his feet slip out from under him for the fourth time, and he lands chin first on the scuffed-up ice with a hard thud.
“Oww,” he moans miserably to himself as he sits up. He lifts a numb hand to his mouth to inspect the damage—fingerless gloves doing fuck-all to defend against the stinging cold—and the tips of his frozen fingers come back speckled with warm red from where he bit his tongue on the way down.
Fucking ice skating. Max better appreciate the effort he’s making.
He’s in the middle of a mostly empty rink (arms crossed over his chest, ass wet from the ice, fully pouting in public but who cares his tongue and chin fucking hurt), and he’s thinking about just staying there—sulking in place for the remainder of the open-skate session until a Zamboni comes to sweep him away—when an employee spots him and comes skating over to help.
The guy moves with a graceful, practiced ease, swift enough to send his honey brown hair flowing out behind him as he glides over the ice, and he stops neatly in front of Eddie with a tap of his toepick. “Need a hand?” he asks, offering his, and oh no he’s hot why does he have to be hot jesus christ
“‘M fine,” Eddie mumbles into his knees, face flaming. His eyes are wet, and his cheeks are all splotchy, and he’s being such a petulant, wounded little baby right now, but like.
If Hot Guy could kindly fuck off instead of witnessing this ridiculous behavior, that would be so cool and sexy of him.
“Hey,” Hot Guy says, voice gentle. His downturned puppy eyes go soft with concern when he spots the blood on Eddie’s lip, and he crouches down into a squat and rests a hand on Eddie’s knee.
The fingers of his other hand reach out, hesitant, hovering in the space between them like he wants to cup Eddie’s chin but doesn’t want to hurt his bruised skin. Eddie’s eyes widen at the gesture, kind of humiliatingly turned on by how tender it is, and his lip wobbles and oh God he is not about to cry in front Hot Guy he’s not doing it he’s not—
The guy offers him a reassuring pat. “Bit your tongue?”
Eddie nods. Hot Guy smiles sympathetically. “Yeah, that’ll do it. I bit the shit out of the inside of my cheek last week trying to race my coworker,” he tells Eddie, shaking his head with a little laugh. “Hurt so bad.”
Fuck, his laugh is pretty. Eddie can’t help but smile, too.
The guy claps Eddie’s knee again and shoves himself back up to standing. “Come on,” he says, offering a hand. “Let’s get you patched up.”
Eddie takes it this time.
He lets himself be hoisted to his feet, gripping the lapels of the other man’s jacket for dear life as he gets his balance. Hot Guy, bless him, just brackets Eddie’s waist between his hands, steadying him with warm, broad palms splayed beneath his ribs, and then they’re toe-to-toe, standing so close that their breaths fog into a mingled cloud.
H.G. flashes a brilliant smile. “I’m Steve, by the way.”
“Eddie.”
“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” he says sincerely. He slides his hands from Eddie’s waist to his elbows, trailing down to take both of his hands in a sure grip, and then he swivels his feet and starts slowly skating backwards across the rink, dragging Eddie along with him. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”
Eddie snorts, rolls his eyes at himself. Yes, what, indeed, he thinks, blowing a wild curl out of his face. “It’s a long story.”
Steve grins. “I have a long shift.”
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie drabble#steddie fluff#steve harrington#eddie munson#my writing#eddie offered to take max skating because her mom is never around#only then he remember ‘oh right i don’t know how to ice skate. shit’ so he’s trying to learn before he goes with max#because she WILL mock him until the end of time if he she sees him busting his ass every twelve seconds like this#thankfully steve is there to help him learn (and be very ridiculously good looking while he does it)
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we all know aomine is mean as fuck but he’s definitely ‘make you masturbate in front of him while he strokes his dick..refusing to give you any until you recite every filthy thing you want him to do to you; otherwise, you’re forced to fuck your fingers and you better not come until he says so’ mean.
“Please, Mine..fuck me. I need it.”
“No, not until you tell me how bad you want it. What was that part about creaming all over my dick again? C’mon, say it..”’
#cherry’s drabbles🍒#daiki aomine#aomine smut#aomine x black reader#aomine daiki#knb aomine#kuroko no basket aomine#black reader#aomine drabble#knb x black reader#i need to be spayed#this is getting ridiculous#black fem reader#aomine x reader#aomine knb#aomine imagine#aomine daiki x black reader#aomine daiki x reader
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STWG prompt 19/1/24
prompt: "what? where?!"
character/pairing(s): stobin
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Steve's completely zoned in on sorting through returns near the Family Video cashier when Robin gets his attention from across the room.
"Hey, Dingus!" she pauses her task of putting tapes back in their place to say.
"What, Rob?"
"You got a little," Robin gestures at his general person as she talks, "something on you."
The way she says it, a little scrunch of awkward displeasure to her nose, makes Steve panic. Immediately, he wonders if there's a spider on him, and stands as still as possible.
"What? Where?!"
She points toward his t-shirt, but doesn't look anxious so- no spider. Thank fuck. Actually, not thank fuck. He must have a sauce stain or something on his white t-shirt. Or toothpaste, or- or a drink stain. Or something worse.
He looks down, but can't see anything, even when he pulls the fabric away from him a little to see better. He still finds nothing.
He looks up to ask Robin what the fuck she's talking about just in time to see her sniggering to herself.
"Rob, what-"
"I can't believe I made you look."
"What are you talking about?"
"God, I wish I was close enough to point at it and then flick you in the forehead when you looked down."
"What is wrong with you?"
#stobin#steve harrington#robin buckley#the most ridiculous prompt response i've ever written i think#stranger things#stobin drabble#stwgdailyprompt#dailydrabble
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A/N: While Deeks was at FLETC and Kensi hard at work with the team, how did they balance romance?
***
Kensi, as her phone starts ringing: Oh, it’s Deeks. *she gestures outside the car* I’m just gonna go for a quick walk.
Rountree: Stay, we don’t mind. It’ll be good to hear from Deeks.
Kensi: Umm…
Sam, holding back a smile: Go ahead, Kensi. Answer your phone before your blonde weirdo hangs up.
Kensi, reluctantly answers: Hey Deeks.
Deeks, in a throaty tone: Hi baby. I missed you so much. I—
Kensi, quickly cutting him off: Sam and Devin are in the car with me.
Deeks after a short pause in a much higher voice: Hey! Wow, that’s fantastic. I miss you all so much. So how’s it going?
Kensi with a strained smile: Mm, they’re the best.
Sam, cutting her some slack: Go on, get outta here. Go talk to your husband.
Kensi, halfway out the door: Thank you!
Rountree, frowning: That was weird.
Sam: I’m sure they had other things on their minds than talking to us.
Rountree: You think they’re fighting?
Sam, giving him an incredulous look: Seriously? They’re married, Deeks has been gone for four weeks, they miss each other. A lot. Don’t make me say more.
Rountree: Ohhh. *he makes a face* I think I’d wait for somewhere more private.
Sam, shaking his head: Sometimes you have to make do. Just be glad that conversation isn’t happening in here.
Rountree: That definitely would be a new experience for me.
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please do not feel obligated at all if you’re not feeling it or don’t get to it but since you’re taking writing reqs I would adore more tamaharu from you🫶 I really loved bee’s wing! when I got into ouran and asked for tamaharu recs it was recommended to me multiple times right away haha
Aw! I continue to be flattered by the day that folks are still enjoying bee's wing 🥲 It was such a special fic for me when I wrote it, and even though it's been ages since I've written these two, I still love them to bits. Truly the top-tier bi4bi disaster couple.
That said—the fact that you've just given me an excuse to put Ouran on my dash in 2023? I am showering you with hearts. My inner child nostalgia is brimming right now.
I've been in a very holiday mood recently, so I hope you enjoy this little Christmas-themed drabble 🖤
No warnings / 1.2k words / Established relationship, goofiness, fluff
It starts softly—a low humming of voices and breaths that echoes off age-weathered stones: contralto, baritone, tenor, soprano: ebbing like a pianist's solo against a murmuration of gilded strings—and builds. It tethers Haruhi's attention before she can wrestle with it, a warm set of fingers still squeezed within her own. On the horizon, past the speckling snow, the glittering panes of a cathedral window gleams.
"Can we," she finds herself murmuring. At her side, Tamaki shifts, the ungodly red-green-blue of his patterned sweater blurred in her peripheral. "Can we go there?"
She knows when he's smiling, that faraway little crook that makes her stomach twist in knots; can see it, now, out of the corner of her eye, a haze of snowfall glistening through his fringe.
"You want to listen?" he whispers.
Of course, he's delighted—and not doing much of a job hiding it. Dragging her out to this festival had been his own doing, after all.
He'd spent the evening prancing between their kitchenette and their living room, hellbent on convincing her to go with him, no matter how much she loathed tourist traps like these.
("Haruhi is so mean!" he'd wailed, shaking that ridiculous pamphlet from their university's event board in her face. "A true Scrooge! A cheerless fiend! Look at this, look—they have ice skating, and cookie decorating, and roasted chestnuts, and a parade, Haruhi, a full Christmas Parade—"
Into one of their couch pillows, she'd let out a dismal groan.
"And—and caroling," he'd blustered on, beaming ear-to-ear. "And a baking contest!"
"No."
"But mon chous! Mon petit nounours!"
"No."
He'd resorted to burying her full-bodiedly into the cushions, like some overgrown lapdog with no awareness of personal space. "You leave me no choice. We'll bake at home. A full extravaganza to our lonesome, since my dear Haruhi is clearly horrified to be seen with me in public—")
Needless to say: she had ended up, some hours later, in the ugliest sweater of her life, arm-in-arm with her boyfriend's giddy beanpole of a frame, trying fruitlessly to steer him away from plowing children off their feet in the ice rink.
The night had gone well enough, to be fair. Much of it, though, had come insufferably (reluctantly) at the heels of his own indulged whimsies.
At one point, she'd found him masquerading as a back-up Santa Claus after the hired performer had supposedly jumped ship for a bathroom break. It taken every willpower she had to keep her mouth shut when he'd beamed at her, plucking down his beard with a wink, as though she'd never be able to break through the disguise. It had sent the little boy standing beside him into a blubbering outrage, and himself into a panicked flurry of damage control.
Now, some hours later, the chill pinking their ears, they stand sipping their hot chocolates, hands tangled and watching the snow: a quiet, admittedly lovely moment, despite the crowds: the kind that never fails to make her look at his ridiculous clothes and windswept hair and the crinkle of unbridled joy in his eyes, and feel her heart melt, despite it all.
And the choirs are singing.
"I'm sure they have seats," he says to her, giving a light tug at their laced fingers. "Let's go see."
"But—the drinks—"
"Shh-sh-sh, a worry for another day," and he's already starting her off, his dress shoes slipping in the snow, determined nonetheless. His eyes glitter over his shoulder: a indigo prism of autumn skies, speckled with stars and moonlight. "My little bear wants to listen," he hushes, playfully stern, "we will listen."
Despite herself, a smile blooms.
The cathedral is more beautiful than she could have imagined. Grand iron-capped doors stand glossed with an evergreen so rich it shines nearly black. A pathway of tapered stone clicks beneath their shoes, resounding deeply into the cavern of a domed chapel, flanked with a wonder of gilded, candlelit-kissed glass. Nearest the dais, two choir groupings sing in tandem, tressed in robes of white. Their voices fill the air like some ancient holiness, like a folktale she'd forgotten: a mysticism that coalesces, beckons.
They're going to get scolded for not leaving tithes, for bringing liquids in here, for being visibly out of place, as she'd always felt in spaces like these—but Tamaki doesn't care. His thumb kneading gently at her knuckles, he shuffles them into a pew closer near the back, plunking down quietly amidst their cluster of other patrons.
His breath tickles her ear. "In Dulci Jubilo's one of my favorites," he whispers.
It's a gentle, powerful tune—wistful and reflective, in turns. The layers of the choir fill the hall in an cresting tide, striking a chord in Haruhi's heart that quivers.
She takes his hand between both of her own, holds it between her knees while they sit shoulder-to-shoulder. The song makes her think of the countryside in spring; like new life striving through desolation. A loneliness that feels like home, feels hurtful, feels hopeful, feels comforting.
A loneliness that isn't so lonely, anymore.
Slowly, other movements come and go. In The Bleak Midwinter—a hymn that takes one by the hand and leads them to a pinnacle of beauty. Ave Verum Corpus—one of resolution, of rebirth, of redemption. Dormi Jesu—one that she turns to find Tamaki with the golden line of his brow gently furrowed, a lump in his throat, blinking a sheen from his eyes.
Between her hands, his thumb fidgets. She squeezes it, carefully.
"My maman," he says quietly. "She liked this one."
Haruhi squeezes his hand tighter.
"I like it, too," she murmurs back.
For a moment, his closeness, the taste of green in his cologne, the calm that is him, in these rare enough moments, envelops her. Tears blinked free, he smiles down at her: a small lift of his lips, genuine and slightly crooked. And were they not in a church—were they anywhere at all, just the two of them to be found for miles—she may have kissed him, for long enough that she forgot anything but the hitch of his breath behind his teeth, the soft glitter of hair at his nape, the weight of his arms around her.
For now, the warmth of his palm will do.
The organ strikes up, again: a brighter shift. Tamaki leans down to nose into her temple.
"Can we make an orange garland, when we get home?" he says. His words pinch into a childish lilt. "With cinnamon sticks and cranberries?"
Haruhi fights the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she huffs out a breath, the start of a disobedient smile twitching at her mouth, and finds herself staring at the playful scrunch of his nose, close enough for her to count every freckle.
"Fine," she sighs, poking her finger into the underside of his palm. "But just one."
Tamaki beams into a quiet giggle.
The old woman hunched in next pew finally cracks her back to shush them.
#drabble#writing requests#writing#ouran high school host club#ohshc#tamaharu#these TWO#ridiculous#i love them#and i want it to be christmas already
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Thunderclash: Captain!
Rodimus: Tch, what do you want?
Thunderclash: Thank you for everything that you do! You're an inspiration to the crew and I cannot begin to proclaim enough of what you mean to me - I mean everyone here...
Rodimus: *squints*
Thunderclash: ...and you look radiant this cycle!
Rodimus, like a petulant child: Thanks, it's space radiation! I almost forgot, Blunders!
Thunderclash: Happy to remind you, Captain!
#thunders is too sweet#and roddy is ridiculous#rodimus#thunderclash#rodiclash#thunderrod#rodimus x thunderclash#transformers mtmte#tf mtmte#maccadam#mtmte#lost light#transformers#lost light shenanigans#dbb drabbles#my writing
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[11:46 AM] “What is that?”
It belongs in a cartoon, the way Seoho jumps a foot and turns to face you with wide eyes.
“Nothing,” he says.
His hands are cupped together in front of him, still dripping from being under the kitchen faucet. You tsk and enter the kitchen, pulling a hand towel from a nearby drawer and moving towards him. He quickly draws his hands back to rest against his torso when you get within a foot of him, hands still cupped.
You raise an eyebrow, crouching to mop at the little puddle he’s created.
“Nothing, huh?”
The way his cheeks and ears pinken is adorable. His jaw works minutely, biting the inside of his lower lip.
“Uh-huh.”
You straighten up again and fold your arms, tilting your head to try and glimpse between his cupped fingers. “Is it something I’m going to be disappointed is in my kitchen?”
He immediately starts closing the gaps of his fingers, shrinking back against the sink. “Disappointed? Not upset?”
“I’m never upset with you, bestie,” you say, feigning shock at the mere thought. “Only disappointed.”
He pouts, and maybe it takes a conscious effort not to stare at the pretty shape of his lips. Not that you’ll admit it.
“You’re only ever disappointed with me? Never pleased or happy or….anything else?”
Maybe you want to take that as something more. But what if you’re wrong? You deflect, grinning at him. “Your distractions won’t work on me. C’mon. Show me the thing.”
He swallows, then shakes his head rapidly.
You make a face at him. “Seoho.”
He shakes his head again.
You raise your eyebrows. Well. Time to play a little dirty.
You take another step closer to him and enter his space. You audibly hear his breath pause when you lean in close, setting the damp towel on the counter next to him.
“You sure?” You ask quietly, ignoring your own pounding heart. Focus.
Seoho’s next breath sounds shaky. “Mhm.”
A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You lean in a little closer, indulging yourself momentarily and staring at his mouth as you fumble behind him to turn off the faucet.
“Very sure?” You ask.
When you drag your gaze away from his lips, you realize he’s staring at yours. A rush of warmth shoots through you. No. Focus.
He doesn’t answer, too distracted. Now’s your chance. Gently, still looking at his face, you take his hands in yours, prying them open carefully. He offers no resistance, and you glance down inside them.
“Oh my god,” you yelp. “Is that a frog?”
Immediately Seoho jumps back into action, yanking his hands from yours and cupping them shut again. “No.”
“It is,” you say, laughing disbelievingly. “You brought a frog into my kitchen.”
“He was outside in the grass,” Seoho says, voice insistent. “And he was covered in grass clippings and there was some in his eyes and I felt bad and wanted to clean him up—”
“It’s a frog!” You laugh, incredulous. “They live in nature, they get dirty, that’s just how it goes.”
“But it was in his eyes,” Seoho protests, looking at you imploringly. “I was just gonna rinse him off and send him back out again—”
“And you couldn’t have done this with the hose why?”
Seoho looks indignant, pouting. “Look at him. He’s just a little guy. He needs something gentler.”
You’re staring at his hands, shaking your head. “My kitchen sink?”
“Only for a minute,” he pleads. “It just looked painful, he kept blinking and the grass kept staying stuck in his eye and he looked so sad, you should have seen his little face, his eyes were…”
He keeps making his case, but you lose the thread, gazing at him. Sweet, stupid boy. The worst in the whole world. Caring about garden frogs. What if this is my final straw?
As it happens, it is. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’ve grabbed a fistful of his collar and guided him close, planting your lips on his.
It’s a wonderful, wonderful half a second. And then Seoho squawks in surprise and you’re pulled back into reality.
He leans back, blinking, eyes wide on you. “What? I….what?”
Your insides are swirling into a chaotic tornado of dismay. What were you thinking? “I….sorry. You were, um. Saying? About the frog?”
Seoho does not continue about the frog. He continues blinking at you, gaze trailing down to your mouth. You shift from one foot to another, uneasy.
“Seoho…?”
He leans in and kisses you again. It’s gentle, sincere, and suddenly you wonder how in the world you’ve gone this long without doing this. You kiss him back, unfurling your fingers from his collar and resting your hands on his shoulders. He settles his hands on the back of your arms, guiding you closer, kissing you in a way that makes you wonder if he’s thought about this, too.
You break apart to breathe, staying nose to nose.
“Seoho,” you murmur.
He hums quietly, resting his forehead on yours.
“Where’s the frog?” You ask quietly.
He’s staring at your mouth again. “Hm?”
“The frog. Where is it.”
He blinks, then stiffens, realizing where his hands are.
“Um.”
“Is there a frog loose in my kitchen?!”
He leans back, staring all around your feet and behind you with increasing urgency. Guiding you back and forth by his grip on your arms, checking around you. “I….maybe?”
Unbelievable. You start searching around your feet, as well.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you find him first, I’ll kiss you again.”
He turns to look at you so quickly you worry he’ll crick his neck. “What if you find him first, instead?”
You shrug, smiling hopefully. “You’ll kiss me?”
He stares at you, bewildered.
“That’s….the same thing.”
You grin. “Then we’d better find him, yeah?”
A slow, bemused grin spreads over his face.
“I….yeah. Okay.”
For @ranotonin
#seoho fluff#seoho timestamp#seoho drabble#seoho x reader#oneus fluff#oneus timestamp#oneus drabble#lee seoho fluff#lee seoho timestamp#lee seoho drabble#seoho#lee seoho#oneus#admin ellie#ellie writes#Ezra I’m so sorry that I can’t write anything normal#your poor boy is doomed to being a dork forever which I think is adorable#forgive the frog reference I am simply ridiculous
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“You have to keep stirring until it’s thin, like soup.”
Steve had said this four times.
Eddie wanted a divorce.
They weren’t legally married, but he’d like to find a way to end it before it began.
“I’ve been stirring it for six minutes. It’s not getting thinner.”
“That’s impossible. Let me try.”
Steve was the chef. Eddie knew it, Steve knew it, everyone knew it. He was good at cooking. Not just following recipes, but actually throwing together ingredients from scratch and making something not only edible, but delicious.
But Steve was going away for a week with Robin. Something about a long overdue road trip that they were supposed to take before she went to college.
Eddie had every intention of just living off of takeout and the sympathy of Joyce and Claudia while he was gone, but Steve insisted that he had to know how to at least make a few things.
Steve seemed to think he could make a glaze for the baked chicken currently in the oven. The same baked chicken he’d almost burned because he thought he could put it in on broil instead of baked. He was really THAT hopeless.
But Steve was determined and when Steve was like this, he had no choice but to go along with it.
Steve was stirring, frown becoming more prominent the longer he tried.
“Something isn’t right. Did you put the lemon juice in?”
“You watched me put it in.”
“And the jelly was completely cooked down before you turned down the heat?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Steve.” Eddie placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders from behind him, shaking him slightly. “I can just eat pizza. Or sandwiches. Cereal. Joyce is having me over for spaghetti one night, I’m sure there will be leftovers. I won’t starve.”
“But you need to know how to take care of yourself!”
Warning sirens were going off in Eddie’s head. He’d been alone for a couple of days before and everything was fine. He’d made some macaroni, ate his weight in toast, it was great. He survived.
He even ate an apple!
So he could do it if he had to.
“What’s going on in that head, big boy?”
“Nothing. It’s just that Wayne didn’t have time to show you this stuff and you need to know.”
“I can make it a week, Stevie.”
“What if you have to make it longer?”
“Are you planning on running away? Going into hiding?”
He could tell Steve was rolling his eyes without even seeing his face.
“No. But what if I’m not always around?”
Eddie’s gut clenched. Steve must be sick. Or maybe he has a feeling that somehow the Upside Down is open and ready to ruin their lives again.
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
“I mean anything can happen. What if we get in an accident and I don’t make it?”
“Woah.” Eddie turned Steve around and held onto his hips, fingers probably leaving bruises on his skin. “Where is this coming from?”
Steve shrugged and looked down at the floor.
“Robin has anxiety about it doesn’t she?”
Steve nodded.
Ah.
Robin didn’t intentionally shove her anxieties onto Steve, and she didn’t realize he felt them so strongly when she did. She was a worrier, always thinking about the worst case scenario and then somehow making it worse in her mind.
Eddie didn’t really let it bother him until it affected Steve.
“Sweetheart, nothings gonna happen. You’ve changed the oil and checked the tires. You’ve packed every possible thing you could need in any emergency. You have a cup of change for pay phones if you need to use them. You’ve got every stop picked out and we’ll know where you are the whole time.”
“But none of that helps if I’m in an accident.”
“No. You’re right. It doesn’t. But what are the odds of that happening really?”
Steve was silent.
Eddie cupped his face between his palms, leaning forward to kiss him gently.
“It’s okay to be nervous, Stevie. But you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself without having to know how to make a glaze for a baked chicken. Do you really think I’m gonna waste an hour of my evening making this decadent dinner for myself? Or do you think I’ll make a sandwich and eat a bag of chips while I read a book?”
“I know.”
“I know you know. So let’s just trash the glaze, dip the chicken in some ketchup, and fuck around until we fall asleep. I’m gonna miss you for a whole week.”
Eddie’s hands slid around him to cup Steve’s ass and give it a squeeze. Steve smirked up at him as he let himself fall into Eddie.
“We could just go right to dessert?”
“Are you the dessert or am I?”
“I’m the cake and you’re the ice cream.”
“We better hurry then before the ice cream melts.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughed as Eddie pulled him from the kitchen to the stairs.
“I’m hungry, let’s go!”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#domestic fluff#I just think the rumors about Eddie not being able to cook are true#he can survive if he has to but it won’t be anything good#Steve having anxiety about ridiculous things thanks Robin
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Steve showers in cold water. No matter the time of year - his showers are ice cold. He says it keeps him awake for longer, helps him concentrate, has health benefits, whatever. When Robin went in the shower after him for the first time and saw the handle all the way to the right she screamed and Steve came in running, and started laughing when she pointed at the blue dot. He explained the reasoning and she rolled her eyes and pushed him out.
Steve and Eddie have been together for a couple of weeks now. Making out whenever they had the chance, sleeping over at each other's place every night, officially putting the 'couple' stamp on their relationship with a promise to always be there for each other.
They woke up in Steve's bed, limbs tangled up in each other, naked and happy.
"Wanna shower wi'me?" Steve mumbled, rubbing off the sleep from his eyes. Eddie's eyes opened at once and he nodded frantically.
Steve rolled out of bad, "Come over when you're ready," He said and went to the bathroom.
He pulled out a clean towel for Eddie and then opened the water, warming it up. He was willing to give up his cold shower for Eddie, and that said a lot.
Eddie stumbled into the steamed up bathroom and rushed to the handle, slapped it hard towards the right and stepped back, taking a deep breath.
"You almost burned me, Stevie," He chuckled and kissed Steve on the cheek. Steve blinked once, twice and then opened his mouth.
"What? What?!"
"What?" Eddie asked in return.
"Why would you cool the water..?" Steve asked suspiciously.
"What do you mean?"
"I-" Steve started and Eddie cut him, "You want it hot?" He asked quickly and went to turn the handle.
"No!" Steve held his hand, "Sorry..."
"Stevie, darling, I can give up my cold shower for you, it's okay," Eddie smiled and reached towards the handle again.
"Your cold shower..?" Steve had to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, trying to take the new information in, "What??"
Eddie laughed, "Why are you so surprised?"
"Because..." Steve ruffled his own hair, "Because you're not a jock, or a healthy person," Eddie raised an eyebrow, "Sorry. So why would you..?"
Eddie laughed harder and cupped Steve's cheek, "Aw, Stevie! You take cold showers because you're a healthy person? You're lucky I love your ass because that was too rich." He sat on the edge of the bathtub and touched his foot to Steve's. "I take cold showers, baby, because I had no choice growing up. The hot water in the trailer had its own life, coming whenever it wants. Usually in the summers there was more, which was annoyingly ironic. And even when there was hot water, I preferred leaving it for Wayne, who needed showers a lot more that I did. With time I just got used to it, you know? Now hot water makes me sweat, which kinda defeats the purpose of a shower anyway," He released a soft chuckle. "So, do you wanna take a cold shower with me, rich kid who makes odd choices?"
Steve nodded and whispered, "I'm sorry..."
"It's okay sweetheart, you didn't know, but now you don't get to say I'm not a healthy person." Eddie pointed his chin up and walked straight into the freezing water, wetting his hair and moving it around like a dog, splashing Steve.
With the cold water pumping their blood and raising their heart rate, they didn't get out of the shower for a long time.
#did i get this idea when i myself took a cold shower last night? yes.#my brother takes cold showers for health benefits and its ridiculous sorry#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#eddie x steve#fluff#angst#(a tiny bit tho)#steddie fluff#steddie ficlet#steddie drabble#it is hot outside cold showers are legit when its hot
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I read your Daddy, Sorry fic and it was IMMACULATE 😩 do you think that Billy would lowkey be into fisting or smth?
👀👀👀
mayhaps,,,, 👀👀 just the whole idea of him being able to get that deep inside you, to stretch you out that thoroughly, to see the cute little bulge in your tummy is enough for him
oh god and don't even get him started on how fucking cute you look while he does it,,,, he's able to draw out a really special kind of noise from you when he's that deep inside you
and the look on his face??? that smirk????? his little pants, the praise tumbling from his lips, the way his eyes are lazer focused on you taking in everything?????????? yeah fun for all parties
also LKFJSL;KJS TY I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!!!!!! IT'S REALLY ONE OF MY FAVE THINGS I'VE WRITTEN!!!!!!! <3333333
#billy hargrove smut#stranger things smut#billy hargrove#THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK ANON ILY#I am thoroughly back on my stranger things bullshit#and between you and me I was really hoping to see more of billy this season#oh well I guess I'll just have to write ridiculous amounts of fics for him <333#or steal the duffer brothers teeth <333#either or#yeah so ty again for this ask it's beautiful#and pls send me more stranger things asks <333333#billy hargrove x reader#🧍🏽♀️ anon#i am just standing here anon#drabbles#tw smut
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Draco stumbled and landed face-first on the deck. The pirates had bound his arms, so he had no choice but to wriggle like a slug as he fought to sit upright again. When his posterior was no longer swaying majestically in the air, he turned back toward the Pirate woman.
“My father will hear about this.”
She laughed. “Are you sure you want him to know? That was pretty pathetic.”
He gave no reply other than a scathing glare. She stood with her cutlass pointed straight at his face, her other arm resting lightly on her hip. A hip that had no business being as shapely as it did. His eyes lingered far longer than was proper before making their way up, skirting over her ample bosom, to rest on her perfect lips, which happened to be at that particular moment, downturned into a frown.
“Show us your booty,” she demanded.
Draco froze. He’d never shown his booty to anyone before. Least of all buxom pirate wenches.
“What?” he squeaked and tried to shrink back against the mast. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Whatever the fuck I want!” She gestured wildly with her free hand.
“But” – he objected – “What if I don’t want you to?”
“For fucks sake,” she cursed, “We’re pirates that’s kind of the whole point.”
He turned his behind as far away from her as he could, ineffectually trying to shuffle backwards. He looked her up and down again. She was very pretty in a vicious kind of way and he supposed if he was going to have someone play around with that area, she was the lesser of all evils.
“Do you promise to be gentle?” he asked a blush rising on his cheeks.
She huffed out a breath. “No! Again. Not the point!”
He let a shiver run through him as his mind went wild with images. Looking around the deck, he met the gaze of several other pirates who grinned down at him with matching expressions of cruel glee. Not here. Not like this.
“Take me back to your cabin,” he demanded, “Or I won’t do a thing.”
She dragged him up with one arm and shoved him through the cabin at the rear of the ship. It was small and covered in books on every surface. In the corner was a messy bed that was again covered in more books.
“Go on. Where is it.”
He licked his lips feeling jittery and nervous. He had never thought that his first time would be like this. At the hands of a fiery and passionate woman. With fumbling fingers still tied behind his back, he pulled at his hose until they fell at his feet.
Her scream was so loud that he didn’t hear her footsteps coming up behind him. After that there was nothing but blackness.
This was written for Midnightlumos for her birthday. A ridiculous piece of pirate drabble.
#Dramione#Draco Malfoy#Hermione Granger#Pirates#Ridiculous pirates#Happy Birthday MidnightLumos#hp fanfic#drabble#whimsy#comedy
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STWG daily prompt 24/9/23
prompt: twister
pairing/character(s): steddie
-
Steve's in the middle of unpacking one of what seems to be endless boxes when he finds a gem of an item. The box he's currently working through as he sits cross-legged in his and Eddie's brand new apartment is labelled 'miscellaneous - eddie'. It's their first time officially living together, and unpacking each other's belongings has been weirdly fun. Eddie owns a lot more quirky things than Steve does.
Anyway, the absolute gem he comes across shocks a laugh out of him. Buried in this particular box, underneath a Garfield mug and a miniatures painting kit, is a box of Twister. Steve giggles to himself as he pulls out the game, and looks toward the kitchen where Eddie's currently unpacking their dishes and cutlery.
"Eds!" Steve calls out. He doesn't get a response for a few seconds, and he's about to roll his eyes and call for him again when Eddie appears in the doorway.
"Mm?" Eddie hums, and then his eyes land on the box and he chuckles. "I forgot I packed that!"
"Can't believe you're the kind of person to own this game. Actually, I can. You're a ridiculous man, you were probably a ridiculous twelve-year-old." Steve says with a grin, and Eddie puts on an expression of mock-offence as he walks over and sits beside him.
"You know, it's not just a game for kids, Stevie." Eddie claims, something mischievous in his eyes. Steve squints down at the game, and then throws a judging glance at Eddie.
"It's literally for ages six and up."
"Critics actually called it 'sex in a box' when it first came out. Really scared away the Christian families from buying it at first." Eddie explains, leaning closer.
"Sex in a box, huh?"
"Yup. You wanna see if the critics were right?" Eddie asks, and dramatically wiggles his eyebrows at Steve. Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him away.
"You're a menace. If you look around, you'd notice we still have lots of stuff to unpack." He says with a vague gesture to the boxes remaining in the corner.
"I'm not hearing a no. Is that a later?"
"It's a 'go finish unpacking our kitchen', you idiot."
#steddie#steddie drabble#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#this is so ridiculous#stwgdailyprompt#dailydrabble#mywriting
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Crack whump scenario:
Whumper holding Whumpee’s precious collection (crystals, Funko Pops, Beanie Babies, comics, etc.) ransom until they willingly give themselves over to Whumper. Maybe after all of this, Whumper ends up destroying Whumpee’s collection in front of them anyway as their first round of “torture.”
#May i present to you- Crack Whump™️#A ridiculous form of non serious satirical whump#the dumber the better#whump Drabble#crack whump#bad whumper#stupid whump#satirical whump#whumpy thoughts#not the collections!#save the comics!
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Generation loss daemon au anybody?
Ranboo: black-backed jackal
Sneeg: Raccoon
Charlie: ferret
Hetch: Eurasian eagle owl
The Puzzler: rat
Ethan: goldfish
Austin: Iberian lynx
Niki: shrike
Vinny: black-billed magpie
I will be making art and/or fics for this i swear to GOD because i just,, I know exactly how I'd make the daemons work in the showfall media setting.
If anyone's read the original HDM trilogy, you know the eerie description of the nurse and her dog daemon and how they seemed cold and disconnected and stripped of personality?
Think of that for the showfall "actor" daemons. While they're not severed, showfall media's control puts a disconnect between the "actors" and their daemons. The daemons are cold and don't speak and there's just something very off about them, and if you watch them long enough you realize it's because they dont move. They follow their person almost robotically (think NPC-boo) if they're too big to sit on a shoulder or fit in a pocket, but if they can sit on their person they just sit there. Almost like Props.
Of course, when the "actors" break free that connection to their daemon comes back all at once and can be somewhat of a shock as the daemon very suddenly regains awareness and life and personality.
So for Ranboo, his daemon would likely come back to herself in starts and stops, gaining awareness before its stripped away again and again, usually managing only a glimpse here and there, only ever regaining real control for a few minutes at a time. But otherwise she's silent and follows Ranboo around with little expression or input.
#dragons chatting#dragons drabbles#i will be adding more to this in fic form#and also some art pieces to show the cast with their daemons#i have Thoughts and Ideas#and i spent a ridiculous amount of time researching what everyone's daemons would be#generation loss#genloss#generation loss ranboo#genloss ranboo#generation loss sneeg#genloss sneeg#generation loss charlie#genloss charlie#gl!ranboo#gl!sneegsnag#gl!charlie#gl!slimecicle#gl!jerma#gl!vinny#gl!niki#gl!nihachu#gl!ethan#gl!austin#genloss daemon au#daemon au#daemons#gl!hetch
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