#another drabble from the vault!

[password-door-lock]

“What is this?” Unknown demands, giving the oversized cup a once-over. He does not appreciate the tacky snowflake print any more than he appreciates the fact that it is decidedly not what he asked for.

You shoot him a sheepish smile that he could really do without, before stabbing the sheer plastic lid of your drink with a large pastel pink straw identical to the one waiting for him on the dashboard. “You said you wanted something that would keep you awake.”

Unknown grits his teeth. It's like he has to spell every little thing out for you lest you should fuck it up— maybe he shouldn't really be surprised, considering he's had to deal with your antics for months now, but that doesn’t mean he’s pleased with your behavior. “I wanted an energy drink.” He may not drink them often, but they come in handy when he spends long hours on surveillance missions such as this one. 

“Oh.” You wrinkle your brow, looking genuinely apologetic. “I'm sorry. I wish you would have said something— hopefully this will be okay, though. It does have a lot of caffeine and sugar— plus, I got us some pastries, too.”

You brandish a box (also printed with snowflakes) which looks big enough to contain more than enough pastries for the two of you. “Next time, get me what I ask for.” He shouldn’t have to say that, but Unknown understands now that it’s better to err on the side of caution when giving you directions. 

“Of course.” You don't contest the fact that he never explicitly asked you for an energy drink, which, to your credit, does improve Unknown's mood infinitesimally. He’s not in the mood for an argument today, any more than he’s in the mood for… whatever you’re trying to give him now. “But, listen, this should give you enough energy to stay up until we're back at Magenta, anyway. And they're doing a promotion for winter— see the little flap in the cup? There's a plushie keychain behind it.”

“Next time, I'll go with you into the store,” Unknown decides, too caught up in his own thoughts to consider the new information that you’ve offered. None of the work that he got done while you were in the coffee shop makes up for the potential risks associated with leaving you to your own devices for so long. He sincerely hopes that the Savior doesn't look at her card history for this evening, because he has no interest in explaining why so many ridiculous things were purchased in the name of the Mint Eye.

You're not listening to him, either, already prying open the little door in the side of your cup to get to the plushie. Unknown is irrationally annoyed about this, and he stews in his anger as you withdraw the stupid little thing. “Aw,” you look dejected, which  comforts him. “Damn.” You might be annoying, but at least your pouting face is cute. 

“What's the problem, prince(ss)?” Angry or not, Unknown will never pass up an opportunity to mess with you.  

“I don't really like this character,” you confess, “Like, it’s fine, I guess, but I was hoping to get something else.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Unknown murmurs mockingly, reveling in your disappointment just as he indulges in all of your emotions. He really does enjoy his time with you, all things considered— but, then again, he never would have picked you if he didn’t want to be around you. 

“You should open yours.” Now you're giving him puppy-dog eyes, which has never been a particularly effective method in your dealings with Unknown— of course, that’s never stopped you before, and he apparently can’t expect it to stop you this time, either. “Please? It's already paid for. It would be a waste if you just left it.” 

Unknown considers this. As much as he doesn't want to listen to you when you try to give him orders, he is just a bit curious about what might be inside the cup. And you do have a point— it is already paid for. Even though he doesn't want it, if there's any enjoyment to be had from this irresponsible decision of yours, he may as well revel in that, too, before the Savior finds out what has taken place and limits his use of the Mint Eye credit card. Most likely, he'll no longer be allowed to leave you unattended with it. 

Whatever. It takes him a moment to get the stupid thing out of the little door— he ends up just ripping the extra bottom compartment off of the rest of the cup and tossing it on the floor of the car. He figures that you can clean it up later. He studies the prize— it’s just some plush cartoon character that he’s never heard of, though you seem to recognize it, if the way that your eyes widen as you study the thing is anything to go on. “What?” He demands, clutching the plushie in his closed fist. 

“Can we trade?” You ask sheepishly, holding out your keychain like you expect him to take it. “You got my favorite character.” 

Unknown finds himself grinning. He didn’t care at all about the plushie before, but he very much enjoys knowing that he has something that you want. He offers you a smug chuckle before clipping the keychain ring to his belt loop. “No,” he says firmly, “I like this one.” 

But his words and actions fail to have the desired effect. You just grin right back at him, silently clapping your hands as if pleased by his performance. Unknown stares up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he’s going to do with you. As if you can read his thoughts, you select this moment to be extra-annoying:  “Now try the drink,” you order, “I promise you’ll love it.”

[jjanuaryrain]

Another DPxDC drabble, this time Sam going to Bruce Wayne for help

Who knows, maybe I'll add this to the dead on main fic I'm working on. We'll see. Anyway, more under the cut.

Words: 3237

The air was cold and clammy, laden with heavy gray clouds and drizzling sheets of rain when Sam Manson stepped out onto the driveway. The rain pattered a steady rhythm on her black umbrella and she folded her long batwing sleeve over her arm to shut the car door behind her. The sleek black airport taxi idled quietly behind her as she turned to take in the familiar mansion looming before her.

The wrought iron gate arcing above her head was slick with rain, but a singular call button and speaker sat sheltered out of the rain. Sam approached and reached to press the button with a single black-tipped finger. The speaker hummed to life a moment later.

“Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking. How may I help you?” The voice was smooth and poshly British, and Sam took a breath of the cool October air.

“Samantha Manson to see Bruce Wayne,” she murmured into the cold metal. It felt wrong to speak at any higher of a level.

There was a moment’s pause and Sam smoothed her hand over the black lace of her dress. She could do this.

“Were we expecting you this evening, Ms. Manson?” The voice replied after a moment.

Sam pursed her lips together and raised her chin. She put on her best impression of her mother. “No, you were not. However, I believe this to be a matter urgent enough to warrant such a visit.”

“I see,” Pennyworth said. And then, “Why don’t you come in out of the rain? I will contact Master Bruce once you’re safely indoors.”

Sam let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Please, call me Alfred.”

Then the speaker clicked off and Sam took a step back so the gates could slowly swing open on their motorized hinges. She waved off her driver and watched them reverse down the long driveway, then turned back to the building that loomed above her. She took a breath.

She could do this.

⋆₊✧₊⋆

The foyer of Wayne Manor looked much the same as Sam remembered from the few galas she’d attended within its walls – vaulted ceilings, sweeping staircases, and two wings diverging off to the left and right. To Sam’s knowledge, neither she nor any of the other gala guests had ever ventured beyond the ground floor before. She wondered if that would change tonight.

Alfred Pennyworth took her umbrella at the door and she made sure to lightly wipe her boots on the mat inside the door. She felt the inherent urge to remove them before stepping further into the house, but none of the Waynes seemed to be from a similar culture, so she dismissed the feeling.

Alfred showed Sam the way to the drawing room to the right and gestured at one of the many cushy couches. “Have a seat if you wish, Ms. Manson,” he said politely. “Master Bruce is finishing up a call in his study and will be out to greet you shortly. In the meantime, may I offer you some tea?”

Sam took a seat and nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “Earl Grey if you have it, please.” Alfred nodded and stepped through a side door that Sam hadn’t even noticed. And then she was alone.

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly together. She was here now, and there was no going back. If she intended to go through with her plan, she couldn’t back down now. The entire endeavor was a long shot, but it was the only option she had left.

The only option Danny had left.

Alfred returned after a few minutes with a tray laden with fine china and two steaming cups of tea. There were also tea sandwiches and scones, and Sam took one comprised of cucumber and cream cheese along with her tea. She thanked the butler again, and he backed out of the room with a bow. She almost felt like she was back in Japan.

A clock on the far side of the room ticked away the time. One minute, then two, then three. After seven movements of the minute hand, footsteps sounded from the foyer. Sam placed her teacup down and folded her hands once again in her lap as Bruce Wayne approached.

“Samantha,” he said warmly as he swept into the room. He was dressed in a crisp navy suit with the top few buttons undone. His shoes were a clean but well worn pair of loafers. “Or Sam, rather. Is that right?” Sam nodded. Mr. Wayne crossed to and settled into a chair opposite Sam, seizing the second cup of tea from the tray on the low table between them. He grinned at her over the lip of it. “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s not often that people make the journey to Gotham, and certainly not all by their lonesome.”

Sam gave the man a small smile. She wanted to slap the joviality off his face.

“I’m afraid I’m here for business,” she said instead. “Not pleasure.”

Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows raised and he set his teacup down.

“Is that so?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat and regarded her with keen eyes, sweeping them clinically over her person before returning his gaze to her face. “What business do you wish to discuss, then? I don’t recall having any dealings with your parents in recent memory.”

“That’s correct,” Sam said as evenly as she could. She got the distinct impression Mr. Wayne was humoring her. She squared her shoulders. “I should clarify that I’m not here on my parents’ behalf. I’m here for my own interests.” He raised his eyebrows higher. “Or, I should say, the interests of the world.”

There was a pause. Wayne sat up a little straighter.

“The interests of… the world?” He repeated.

Sam nodded. “It is my understanding that you are one of the main financial backers for the Justice League. Is that correct, Mr. Wayne?”

“It is,” Mr. Wayne confirmed, eyebrows drawing together.

“And the Batman?” Sam pushed.

“Well…” Wayne laughed slightly at that and waved a vague hand in the air. “If he were to exist, then sure. But he’s scarcely more than a ghost.”

“He was on national television with Wonder Woman last week, sir,” Sam deadpanned.

Mr. Wayne chuckled and spread his hands like what can you do? Sam did not return his smile. She was quickly becoming sick of seeing his stupidly bright teeth and she hadn’t been in his presence for 10 minutes. She ground her teeth.

When Sam didn’t respond, Mr. Wayne dropped his hands and studied her face. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and met Sam’s gaze seriously.

“What’s this about then, Sam?” He asked. Sam tried not to prickle too obviously at the use of her name. “What business on behalf of the world have you traveled all this way to present to me?”

Sam took a slow breath through her nose. She unclasped her hands, blood rushing back into them at the release of pressure. She’d brought the folder, but the idea of actually handing it over had her stomach clenching. Amity Park and its inhabitants were her best kept secret, the one she and her friends didn’t dare to speak of outside of its borders. And more than that…

“Have you ever heard of the Ghost Investigation Ward, Mr. Wayne?”

The words just sort of fell out of her mouth, but it worked well enough as a start. It was clearly not what Wayne had expected her to say, at least. The man across from her blinked a few times before his face settled into a confused frown.

“I can’t say that I have. And, please, call me Bruce.” Sam nodded once. She’d expected that Bruce wouldn’t know of the GIW, of course, had even hoped so. But it still stung to be reminded how alone she and her friends had been in dealing with this for all these years.

Sam took a steeling breath. She could do this.

Sam reached into the depths of her sleeve and withdrew the folder. She set it carefully on the table between the two of them, to the right of the tea tray. Bruce tracked the motion before returning his quizzical gaze to her. Sam’s heart rabbitted in her chest, but she forced herself into calm. She breathed in and out once, then spoke.

“This file contains all of the information I have on an agency funded solely by the US government that has been carrying out unlawful experimentation on nonhuman entities for nearly half a decade.”

Silence. Wayne stared. Sam pushed on.

“Their work is in direct contradiction with the Meta Protection Acts, yet they have full authorization from and the full support of the federal government. They–”

“That is quite the accusation,” Bruce interrupted with a frown. Sam couldn’t help the glare she shot his way.

“It’s not an accusation,” she said forcefully. Perhaps a bit too forcefully, because Wayne leaned back slightly in his chair. She took a long breath and searched for that internal place of calm. This was for Danny. She didn’t have the freedom or luxury of letting her emotions control her right now.

She tried again.

“It’s not an accusation, Bruce,” she repeated more calmly. “It’s the truth. This file,” she tapped the closed brown cover and Mr. Wayne’s eyes followed the movement, “should have everything required to substantiate my claims and more. It contains copies of the contracts signed between the ward and the Homeland Security, as well as receipts for funds provided by the government in order to create their so-called ‘experimental facilities.’”

She couldn’t help the way her lips curled into a sneer as she spoke, but Wayne wasn’t looking at her. His eyes had locked onto the Homeland Security crest stamped across the file in front of him. Good.

“The file also contains records of the ward’s stated goals, recent movements, and the results of all of their experiments, up until about a month and a half ago. Once reviewed, I’m sure you’ll find that everything about this agency, from its methods to the very purpose of its creation, is at odds with everything the Justice League stands for.”

And you, I hope, she added silently. Please don’t stand for it, either.

Wayne was flitting between looking at the file and Sam, questions swimming in his eyes. Before he could interrupt again, Sam flipped open the folder to its first page. Bruce sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the file and leaned forward to inspect it. 

Sam watched his eyes rove over the photos Tucker had managed to pull from the GIW’s database before they’d moved it offline: the torn and broken bodies of countless ghosts, the remains of beings that had been ripped apart for no reason beyond human hate and curiosity. Wayne’s eyes were wide as he took it all in, and his skin had paled to an ashy grey. Good.

“This is the business I traveled all this way to discuss with you,” Sam told him grimly. His eyes flicked to hers momentarily before they were drawn inexorably back to the carnage laid out before him. He pulled the file closer, mouth pressed into a thin line. “This is why I ventured to Gotham all by my lonesome and showed up on your step with no warning. These are the interests of the world I come to represent.”

Sam let him take in the horror before him, to soak in the ghastly knowledge that Sam had been living with for over a year now, for a long minute. When he took a breath and began to pull back, she snapped the folder closed and returned it to her sleeve. Bruce looked up when she did so, and she could’ve laughed at the look on his face if the situation weren’t what it was. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Sam,” Bruce said gravely, sinking back into his chair with a shake of his head. “This is–” he started, but Sam held her hand up. She wasn’t finished yet.

Bruce complied, leaning back in his chair and covering his mouth with a hand. Sam folded hers back into her lap.

“I am under no illusions that you extended me the favor of this unplanned meeting for any reason other than my family’s name,” Sam told him. Bruce didn’t even try to object. “So I am going to ask that you keep your opinion of me and my name in mind when I ask you for this next favor.”

Sam met his gaze, willing him to understand how much she needed this. How much Danny needed this. This was their last resort.

After a long, tense moment, Wayne nodded. “I’ll listen,” he said softly. “Whatever you need, I’ll hear you out.”

Sam’s throat tightened at the words, and she nodded stiffly. She was almost done. She could get through this.

“If you mean that,” she started, but her voice broke. She swallowed it away. “If you mean that, then what I need from you, Mr. Wayne, is a meeting with the Batman.”

The silence after the words left her mouth felt suffocating. Bruce just looked at her. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she held his gaze defiantly, chin raised. She wouldn’t let him say no. He couldn’t say no.

“The Batman?” Wayne asked after a moment. She nodded again, through the lump in her throat. Bruce frowned, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Then, “Why the Batman?”

Sam blinked. “Sorry?” She asked.

“Well, why not any of the other members of the Justice League? Surely this is something that could be investigated by any one of them.”

“I…” Sam didn’t have a response prepared for that. She squeezed her hands together. “I guess… he’s the one I trust the most to get justice.”

Wayne nodded slowly, considering her through calm eyes. “Is that what you want?” He asked. “Justice?”

Sam hesitated. There were a lot of things she wanted. Justice was one. Revenge, another. Danny to be safe more than anything, really.

But when she thought of herself, of Tucker and the people of Amity Park, of the ghosts who had simply left the Zone at the wrong time…

“Yes,” Sam whispered. Her throat burned. “I want justice.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, to hope for. There were so many ridiculous things she hoped for these days.

“I want to see the GIW demolished,” she continued despite herself. She clasped her hands hard, feeling the muscles shift and the bones grind. A tear threatened to slip down her cheek. “I want to see the agents pay for what they’ve d-done. I want to look every single o-one of them in the fa-face and know that they understand what they’ve d-done. The lives they’ve ruined.”

A sob bubbled up and Sam tried to push it away but it was no use. Now that she’d started, there was no stopping it, no stemming the waves of emotion.

“I want them to understand it and to be f-forced to live with it,” she said through gritted teeth. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks. “I want what they did to destr- destroy them like it’s destroyed u-us. And I want- I want anyone, anyone at all, to acknowledge that they- they left us there! They- they left us there! In that fucking town to rot! To deal with it by ourselves and we can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” Sam covered her mouth with one half numb hand, but the sobbed words came anyway. “I can’t save him!”

Just saying the words out loud had Sam doubling over on the couch, sobs wracking through her body. It felt so good to finally say it, to finally admit it to herself, that she couldn’t reel herself in.

“Oh god,” she cried into her knees. “I can’t- can’t- I couldn’t save him! He’s- and I can’t do anything!” She pressed her skull into the bone of her knees, panting into her skirt as sobs wracked uncontrollably through her body.

A weight dipped onto the couch beside her, and suddenly Sam was tilting over slightly into a strong, warm body. Mr. Wayne didn’t say anything as he held her. He didn’t offer the empty assurances she had come to expect from adults, didn’t try to convince her it was okay, or that she didn’t need to be so upset. He just pulled Sam gently onto his lap and let her cry and cry and cry.

Sam didn’t know how long she laid there, hiccupping and sniffling into Mr. Wayne’s cotton suit. It was just until the burning, aching guilt began to abate, and she was finally able to quell the tears.

Once she’d stopped crying, the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Mr. Wayne’s arm was a reassuring weight across her shoulder and back. Sam listened to the clock tick away across the room and tried to breathe in time with the second hand. Seven seconds in, eleven seconds out – just like Jazz had taught them.

Tears returned to her eyes at the memory, but she just let them fall where they may. She didn’t have enough energy to do much else.

“Why don’t you stay the night in one of our guest rooms, Sam,” Mr. Wayne suggested quietly. He rubbed a gentle hand up and down her arm. “Most of my children are away from home at the moment, so you’ll have the floor to yourself. It’ll just be my youngest, Damian, on the floor below you. Alfred can make it up for you now, if you’d like?”

Sam sniffed and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her face felt tight and dry despite the waterworks, and she resisted the urge to wipe at it. She relished the idea of being able to wash away her ruined makeup and sleep the day off in a real bed, rather than at the hotel as she’d planned.

“Yes,” she agreed quietly. “That sounds very nice, thank you.” She saw Mr. Wayne smile at her from the corner of her eye before he stood and called for Alfred. The two of them had a quiet conversation that she ignored in favor of gathering herself further, and then the butler vanished once again. Sam looked up at Bruce.

“You… You believe me, right?” She asked tentatively. She felt childish saying it, but she had to know this hadn’t been a waste. She had to know there was still hope. “You’ll think about what I said?”

Bruce Wayne gave her a soft smile, much realer than the ones she’d received when she’d first arrived. He returned to his spot on the couch and took her hand, looking her in the eye.

“If there is any truth to what you’ve told me,” he started and Sam couldn’t help the face she made. “Of which I have no doubt,” Bruce added quickly, with another slightly ironic smile. Then his face grew more serious, and he gently squeezed her hand between both of his. “Then I will do everything in my power to see the GIW stopped and shut down, permanently. You will get your justice, Sam. I guarantee it.”

And, just for that moment, Sam actually believed him.

[starwovenkiss]

part two here

Because how funny would it be if Jason Todd had a nemesis who had a crush on him?

Jason, who is just trying to do his job and keep Gotham from burning for one night so he doesn’t have to hear his umpteenth lecture from Bruce about the responsibilities he holds from carrying the bat symbol, pulls up to you.

You had become a thorn in his side as of late, and he tries not to let his amusement show when he sees you waiting on a rooftop.

“What are you doing here, _____?” He knows what you’re doing. It’s the same game you’ve played for the past three nights, and when you turn and smile, glossy lips turned upwards, he can’t help it when his own lips mirror the reaction. It’s involuntary, and he knows B is getting on his case about how much time he’s wasting while not bringing you in—but how can he, when he has so much fun chasing you like this?

“You know why I’m here.” He does. According to Babs, you’ve robbed two banks along 81st Street, and although the amount is significantly less than what you were pulling before, it’s enough to warrant concern. To get his attention, like you wanted.

“You’ve got to stop doing this.” His voice sounds lilted even through his voice filter, and he watches your brow raise, pausing for a moment before stepping closer to him.

“Stop doing what?” you purr, moving in closer, looking like a feline ready to strike. It’s easy to forget about your mentor, how you two were raised on opposite sides of the coin—one trained in stealth and justice, the other in seduction and vice. And while Selina’s influence still moves through your every movement, he’s watched you grow from that first night you appeared on the rooftop of Gotham’s Metropolitan Art Museum. How you developed your own style of fighting, your own form of distraction that differs from your mentor in every way.

“Where’s the money, cat?” he sighs, looking down at you. Despite facing a former crime lord and one of the most terrifying vigilantes in Gotham, your body language is relaxed, as if this is another casual conversation to you. In fact, you merely sigh, as if he’s the one being ridiculous for asking such a question.

“What money?” you smile softly before running to jump off the side of the roof. Jason readies himself, loving nothing more than to chase you into the night before he registers his comm system crackling to life.

“Babs,” he asks, still keeping an eye on your shrinking figure as you jump from rooftop to rooftop deeper into Gotham.

“I don’t get it.” She laughs. Jason tenses, knowing that whatever is going to come next can’t be good.

“She steals almost $75K from the vault, triggers every alarm known to man, just to leave it hidden two blocks away.” Jason knows why you did it—he’s not oblivious to the way you act around him. However, admitting that means he’s signing up for no certain amount of teasing from Babs and a potentially very long talk from Bruce (as if the hypocrite should have anything to say to him).

“Maybe she’s bored.” He shrugs, keeping his tone as even as he can.

“A protégée of Selina? Doubt it.” Babs snorts. “I could think of another reason why she keeps drawing you out there.”

Jason pauses before responding. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Babs does a terrible job of hiding her laughter. “Sure you don’t, Hood. Looks like there’s another robbery downtown, and it seems legit this time. I’d head over there if I were you.”

a/n: i have written 10k words of a gaz fic that has no end in sight, and needed something to get me out of my head. so here’s a little drabble for my other favorite boy <3

[zepskies]

BUBBLY

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: On your first vacation together, you and Russell take advantage of the hotel hot tub.

AN: This can be a stand-alone drabble, but it’s really set after More of This and Lost Time in the Every Second Counts-verse.

Originally released on Patreon: 2-25-25

Word Count: 800

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and feels…tinge of angst?

“Careful!” you giggled, trying to keep chlorine water from getting in your (third) glass of champagne.

Russell was less tipsy than you, but his cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. The hot tub water splashed when he vaulted himself back in. In one hand he held above his head, he carried a tray piled with assorted mini quiche, finger sandwiches, and his personal favorite, some mini buffalo chicken empanadas. When he lowered the plate between you, your eyes widened at the haul. 

“Oh my God,” you said in a hushed whisper. “Did you steal that from the buffet?”

“Steal is a strong word. I prefer the term secured,” Russell whispered back. “Procured. Liberated, if you will.”

You bit your lip, but couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for the quiche. You still shot him a warning look. “The hotel’s going to liberate us from our suite if…”

The reproach died on your tongue as you watched him pull out an entire (opened) bottle of champagne from under his shirt. You gasped.

That’s why his other arm was bent like a chicken wing, you realized.

“Jesus, Russ,” you whisper yelled. You looked around discreetly to make sure no one was paying attention to you two on the far end of the pool site. But you were begrudgingly impressed. By that self-satisfied grin on his face, so was he.

“We could’ve just paid for another bottle,” you pointed out, even as you let him refill your glass, a smile playing on your lips.

“Now where’s your sense of adventure,” he teased. “Besides, this shit is way overpriced.”

He set the plate on the edge of the hot tub and stripped off his shirt again. He’d only put it back on to attempt his little foodie heist. After he submerged himself half under the water and into the seated spot beside you, he slipped an arm around your shoulders to guide you against his side. You went willingly, releasing a sigh. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Here’s to us, sweetheart,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Six months down.”

Your heart swelled with loving affection, along with your smile.

“Six months,” you echoed, clinking your glass with his. Half a year you had been with this man, and you two were finally on a nice weekend away together. The thought made you set down your glass.

You turned towards him and reached up for his cheek. His brows rose in question, but you just smiled and guided him down for a kiss. It was gentle, just a slow meeting of lips. Your thumb caressed his jawline, prickling a bit on his beard.

Russell set his glass on the edge of the hot tub so he could pull you tighter against him. His free hand slipped into your hair as he dove in for a deeper kiss. He tasted bubbly champagne on your tongue. He caught the faded scent of coconut lotion on your skin. His fingers slipped under the strings of your bikini.

You broke from his lips slightly and hissed in pain. “Careful, baby. Think I got sunburned.”

Russell hummed in sympathy. “Mmm, sorry. Let me see.”

He hugged you to his bare chest and swept your wet hair aside so he could take a peek at your back.

“Ooh yeah, you’re well cooked. Think I’m gonna eat you up with some butter,” he joked. “Maybe some chimichurri sauce. You know me. I’m a zesty kinda guy.”

Scoffing, you pinched his side in retaliation. He flinched with a laugh. You actually got him in the one place he was ticklish.

“All right, no need to play dirty,” he said. He gathered you tighter in his arms, so you couldn’t move yours. You laughed and struggled to get out of his hold. Your hands pressed against his chest, but it was no use.

“Russ!”

“Nope. This is penance. You’re gonna stay right where I want you.”

He had you trapped. And if you were a good girl about it, maybe he’d feed you an empanada. 

Russell’s amusement softened into fondness. Part of him still couldn’t believe he’d been able to make it work with you for this long.

Just three more months, he’d promised you, and he’d be done taking contract jobs for Horizon. He’d be out, and he’d start working on his brewery. He’d start truly setting down roots with you in Laramie, building something that would stick.

For once in his life, Russell was optimistic about his civilian future.

If only he knew what was coming.

AN: 🤭 Yes, I do plan to continue this, don't worry lol. I don't have it written yet, but it's aaaaall up here. 🫡

Special thanks to Michelle - @luci-in-trenchcoats - for giving me tons of Tracker spoilers from the books that helped me shape the idea for "what's coming" next. 💜

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[seongwars]

Marry Me, Your Highness!

Pairing: non-MC x Prince-in-Disguise!Rafayel, non-MC x Prince!Sylus, Word Count: 2.5K (is it really a drabble at this point?) Warnings: None, slight OOC for some characters, mentions of violence Summary: Rafayel arrives demanding compensation, while you plot to escape your engagement to Sylus at any cost.

Note: I guess I'm starting a "Your Highness" drabble series. I need to stop tho because I have too many wips/drafts and I'm supposed to be on a semi-hiatus right now

Part 1: Absolutely Not, Your Highness!

You quietly scale the side of the garden wall leading to your estate, fingers aching from the climb and your skirts snagged on every thorn bush in the vicinity. With a grunt, you land in the courtyard, the moon casting long silver shadows across the stone path. For a blissful moment, it seems like you’ve made it undetected.

You tiptoe across the courtyard, praying that under the still hush of night, no one will catch you. 

No such luck.

“Nice landing,” comes a voice from the shadows. “I’m usually the one sneaking back into the house in the middle of the night. You're stealing my thing.”

“You can have it back,” you mutter, brushing dust off your sleeves. “I was only trying to get away from the imperial guards.”

Your brother, Xavier steps into the moonlight, one brow lifted. “What did you do exactly?”

“I turned down a proposal from the crown prince.”

He stares at you. Then blinks. “You… said no. To the crown prince of Linkon.”

“Yes, Xavier. I didn’t stutter.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You really did it.”

“I really did it.”

He drags a hand down his face, then laughs—like this is the best thing that’s happened to him all week. “You absolute menace. I mean… I’m proud. Deeply horrified, but proud.”

“I’m glad someone is enjoying this,” you snap. “Because Aunt Elizabeth’s guards are probably about to storm the mansion on account of me punching the crown prince in the throat.”

The laughter dies instantly. Xavier goes completely still. 

“You what!?”

“He startled me! I was already being chased by the guards, I ran into Sylus, and my reflexes kicked in. I punched him in the throat!”

“You assaulted the future king!”

“I didn’t even hit him that hard!”

Your brother exhales through his teeth, thinking. “If they come for you, we can fend them off.”

“We!? And what army?”

“Fair point. Instead, we redirect the narrative. You can’t accept Sylus because your heart belongs to another.”

You stare at him. “Another who, exactly?”

“I don’t know yet! Someone useful. Charming. Disposable, if it goes wrong.”

“Xavier.”

“You need to be married,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Or at least engaged. That way it’ll get mother and Aunt Elizabeth off your back.”

“I’m not marrying someone just to avoid prison!”

“You might not have a choice! They’ll be at the gates by morning!”

You both fall silent, racking your brain for options. Xavier’s wife had a few eligible acquaintances: the devastatingly attractive doctor, the charismatic colonel…

But none of them feel like a real solution.

“...I did fall on a man earlier,” you say slowly.

Xavier gives you a slow, skeptical look. “You want to track down the mysterious stranger you fell on and ask him to marry you.”

“I may have given him a hairpin…”

“And?”

“…And I may have told him to seek you out for compensation.”

Xavier lets out a long, pained breath and turns back into the house. 

“I’m going to bed.”

“I’m sure your wife will be thrilled,” you call sweetly after him. “I would like to be an aunt some day!”

He doesn’t even look back. You wait until he disappears inside, then glance up at the stars. 

“Gods, help me,” you whisper, hoping that this time your fate would take a different turn. 

⟡ ݁₊ .

Rafayel rubs his ribs where you landed on him. One moment he’s wandering the streets outside the imperial palace, the next, a woman quite literally falls from the heavens, vaulting over the palace wall and crashing directly on top of him.

Now, cold, tired, and entirely out of patience, he fiddles with the hairpin you left behind, its silver length delicately wrought with tiny moons and stars. Rafayel scowls down at it. 

“Compensation,” he scoffs. “I could buy her entire household if I wanted!”

His stomach growls. Loudly.

“I thought someone wanted to blend in with the common folk,” Thomas reminds him dryly.

“That was before I was crushed by a madwoman,” the prince pouts.

Another grumble from Rafayel’s stomach. He frowns at it like it’s personally betrayed him.

“Did you at least bring your coin purse?”

Rafayel stiffens. “...No.”

Thomas exhales slowly through his nose. “Of course not.”

Then Rafayel’s eyes light up.

“She said I could get compensation from her brother! Xavier! She said that! I could find him. Demand...food. And repayment. For emotional damages.”

Thomas blinks. “You’re going to track down a nobleman you’ve never met, in a country you snuck off to and ask him to buy you dinner because his sister fell on you?”

“Yes,” Rafayel says. “This is diplomacy, Thomas.”

“This is blackmail.”

Rafayel lifts his chin, regal even in suffering. “This is for emotional distress. And bruised ribs. And because I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Thomas sighs. “You could’ve just said you were hungry.”

“I am hungry. And injured. And slighted. Wandering the streets at night is no way for me to live!”

By the time Rafayel finds the mansion, his feet are caked in dust and his patience is worn. Navigating Linkon with just Thomas and a map had proven...challenging.  

He rounds a corner and slows, eyes narrowing at the iron gates ahead. Ornate stars curl in elegant arcs across the gates. He glances down at the hairpin in his hand. 

Moons and stars, silver and delicate. 

“Found you.”

He steps up to the guards stationed at the gate and thrusts the pin forward. “Your lady of the house gave this to me,” he announces. “And I am here to collect my compensation.”

The guard blinks. “The only lady of this house is married to Lord Xavier.”

Rafayel frowns. “No. Not her. The other one. She fell on me. From the palace wall.”

Thomas makes a small sound, halfway between a groan and a wheeze.

“She was rather dramatic,” Rafayel insists. “She said her name was… actually, she didn’t say her name. But she did say I could come here for compensation!”

“She fell from the palace wall and landed on you?” a guard asks, deeply skeptical.

“Yes! And left me with this!” Rafayel exclaims, waving the hairpin around. 

The guards exchange looks, clearly questioning their sanity. Then they whisper to each other and one sets off to find Jeremiah, the head butler. 

You’re on your way to breakfast after having dreamt of it all night, particularly the egg souffle with scallion pancakes. But you barely make it to the end of the hall before you overhear a scuffle at the gates. 

“Unhand me! I’m Rafayel Qi, prince–”

“Please forgive my master, he is delirious having gone without food!” Thomas interjected, placing himself between Rafayel and the guards. 

Why do I recognize that voice?

You rack your brain. Where have you—?

Then it hits you. The man from yesterday.

You bolt for the gates, still in your sleeping robes. You’re halfway there when you see him, disheveled, waving your hairpin around.

Beneath the tilt of his ridiculous straw hat, with his tunic wrinkled and dirt clinging to his sandals, he’s...annoyingly handsome. All sharp cheekbones and charm, mauve eyes glinting with fire. The kind of face sculpted by the gods that could topple an empire.

The kind of man any mother would take one look at and declare perfect marriage material.

You shake your head quickly as he spots you. Before he can say anything else, you grab his arm, plastering on a bright smile for the guards.

“There you are!” you exclaim, slipping your arm around his like you’ve done it a hundred times.

The guards blink, visibly confused.

You lean in, hissing under your breath, “Play along.”

His eyes flick between your expression and the guards. Then, to your surprise, he smirks. 

“Of course, darling,” he says, a little too loudly, wrapping his arm around your waist with dramatic flair. “Missed me already?”

The guards exchange bewildered glances, clearly unsure of what to make of this display. One of them even flushes. 

“A-Apologies, my lady,” he stammers, bowing slightly. 

“We didn’t realize—”

“That he was mine?”

Rafayel snorts under his breath, thoroughly enjoying himself as you hauled him into the mansion. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up!”

“Well, I’m emotionally damaged from being body slammed out of nowhere, starving, and slightly winded, so yes, I showed up!”

“Great,” you mutter, giving him a once-over and imagining what he’d look like after a proper bath and a set of robes. 

As much of a disaster as this stranger…what was his name? Rafayel was it? This disaster might be your ticket out of marrying Sylus. And if nothing else, he’ll certainly make things interesting.

“You’re perfect.”

“Obviously!” 

You ignore him, turning the corner and calling down the hall, “Charlie! Have the maids bring me my breakfast to my quarters. I’m not feeling particularly well.”

Charlie appears in seconds, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Miss Y/N is everything alright?”

Y/N? So that’s her name, Rafayel thinks, casually running his gaze over you, though it lingers a little longer than it should. You were no princess, but there was a certain wildness about you. A feral, untamed charm that made him want to learn more. You’re not bad on the eyes, though you’re certainly not up to Lemurian standards when it comes to beauty.  

“Shall I call for the doctor?”

“No! Just…food. Double my portions, please!”

You don’t wait for Charlie to respond before yanking Rafayel into the closest room. You slam the door shut behind you, then whirl around to face him with your arms crossed.

“Here’s the deal,” you say, voice firm. “You can eat…under one condition.”

Rafayel blinks. Once. Twice. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Marry me.”

“Marry you?”

You shrug. “Aren’t you a starving artist seeking inspiration with no coin to your name? Consider it a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“This is exploitation.”

“It’s practical,” you reply, unbothered by his disbelief. “You get to eat and I get to avoid a life trapped in a loveless, political marriage. Everyone wins.”

Rafayel eyes you for a moment, processing the logic or lack thereof. “What’s so awful about the crown prince?”

“He’s a selfish, pompous ass who puts his own ambitions above everyone else! It’s all about what he wants, without caring for anyone else in the process. He doesn’t deserve to be king, let alone have me as his wife!”

He falls silent, your tirade stirring something uncomfortable within him. Was this how his people saw him too? A selfish ruler unfit for the crown? His expression falters for a fleeting moment, but he masks it quickly, avoiding your gaze.

You, however, are too busy thinking about the practicality of your agreement to notice his inner turmoil. 

“Do you want your payment up front?”

Rafayel’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Am I just a whore to you? I’ll have you know that I’m the prince—”

“Yes! Yes, we will accept the payment up front! Forgive us, my lady!” Thomas bursts into the room and slaps a hand over Rafayel’s mouth. 

“Please excuse us,” he says, quickly bowing. He drags Rafayel into the hall, muttering apologies as the door slams shut behind them.

“Have you lost your mind?” Thomas hisses, releasing Rafayel and pacing the length of the hallway. 

“We’re in Linkon, your Highness. Yes, relations with Lemuria are friendly, but you’ve vanished without a word! If anyone here finds out who you really are—”

“They won’t.”

“Someone will recognize you eventually,” Thomas lowers his voice even further, casting a nervous glance at the door. 

“The palace must be in chaos. The guard is probably searching every port. And Solana…gods, Solana is going to kill me.”

“Your wife says that all the time.”

“I’m sure she means it this time.”

Rafayel raises both hands lazily. “What’s wrong with pretending to be someone else for a few weeks? There’s food, a warm bed, no council meetings, and zero talk of arranged marriages. Sounds like a vacation to me.”

Thomas stares at him. “You’re still the prince of Lemuria.”

“Not if no one here knows it,” Rafayel shrugs. “Let me live a little. When this fake marriage falls apart, I’ll disappear.”

Still mulling over his decision, he turns and heads back to your quarters. As he pushes the door open, he comes to an abrupt halt. Before him a feast is laid out in the center of the room–steamed meat buns, slices of crispy duck, and root vegetables. 

He pauses, taking in the sight, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slow, lazy smile. It’s as if the universe itself had conspired to tempt him further into this bizarre arrangement.

“Alright, Miss Y/N. I’ll marry you.”

⟡ ݁₊ .

Sylus hadn’t expected to be punched in the throat yesterday.

He’d faced assassination attempts, ambushes, and battlefield skirmishes, but none of them had made his heart race quite like the woman who glared at him with righteous fury.

It was, against all odds, love at first punch.

He replays the moment a dozen times in his mind. The fire in your eyes. The absolute, scorching contempt. The way you vault over the garden wall without a second glance.

He sighs, running a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “She hates me,” he murmurs aloud, almost in awe.

He rehearsed what he planned to say, a thousand times over, upon hearing that you had been chosen by his father to be his bride, the next princess consort.

“Do you remember me?” No, it was too direct.

“I missed you.” True. But useless.

Because the last time he’d seen you, you were dying in his arms. 

He hadn’t wanted to marry the Northern Princess.

It had been a match for power, nothing more. No love. No affection. When you’d found out, you hadn’t argued. Hadn’t cried. You had simply bowed, offered a polite farewell and disappeared into your chambers.

He hadn’t realized how the new concubine had overstepped, encroaching on your position as princess consort. From the outside, it seemed as though he favored her, ignoring the life you had built together.

In truth, Sylus wasn’t indifferent. He was quietly scheming to end the marriage to the concubine without risking you or triggering political fallout. But by the morning of the ceremony, you were gone, having left for your brother’s estate while the imperial palace drowned itself in festivities.

It was Charlie who came staggering into the great hall hours later, bloodied, trembling and barely alive.

“Bandits. She stayed behind. Fought them off.”

Sylus left the ceremony mid-vow and rode until his horse collapsed.

By the time he found you, it was too late. You lay on your side, unmoving. Blood pooled beneath your ribs as your sword lay just out of reach.

Sylus dropped to his knees and pulled you into his arms. He begged you to wake, promised you anything. Everything. That he’d fix it. That he didn’t forget about you and that he’d tell you everything.

But you were already gone.

He lit your funeral pyre himself. And when the flames rose high, he didn’t wait for the ashes to settle. He walked into the fire, praying quietly, desperately, to the gods that he’d find you again.

“Your Highness.”

A voice broke through the memory. Sylus didn’t look up from the scrolls on his desk.

“Speak.”

The advisor steps inside, shifting awkwardly.

“I’ve come to inform you…that Miss Shen is engaged.”

taglist: @animegamerfox @beaconsxd @browneyedgirl22 @crimsonmarabou @whosthought @zoezhive @cupid-gene

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi! I've recently found your blog and first of all, let me say that you are brilliant! I read your fic about singer!reader x Hotch and I was wondering if you'd be open to write another fic/drabble about them? Like imagine it's Valkyrie's opening night of her tour for her new album, the entire team is there, and reader keeps looking/pointing at Hotch during the songs (like Taylor Swift is doing whenever Travis Kelce is there?) I just think Hotch would be so flustered it would be so cute *-*

No worries if you don't feel like writing this btw! Hope you have a great day!!

Opening night | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem singer!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: nothing

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you found my blog and hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💕

The venue buzzed with anticipation, the low hum of conversation and excited cheers weaving into a symphony of pre-show excitement from your fans. Your opener had just left the stage, almost jumping with excitement as she relayed how great the crowd had been. You loved seeing how energetic she was coming off the stage, knowing that you'd made the right choice in bringing a newer artist on tour with you, rather than the more established one your label had recommended during the planning meetings.

The stage was dark and wrapped in mystique as your crew moved around in the shadows, changing a few instruments out and moving some positions of others as they prepared the stage for you and your band.

The BAU team occupied a cluster of prime seats up on the balcony, their enthusiasm apparent in their attire and energy as they waited for you to come out.

Despite their excitement, no one matched Garcia's energy. She sat at the edge of her seat, ready to jump out of her seat, her bejeweled glasses catching the dim light. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered for the fifth time that evening, shaking her head as if to reset her reality. “Hotch — our Hotch — is dating Valkyrie. THE Valkyrie. My favorite artist of all time. How does that even happen? What alternate dimension are we living in?” Hotch smiled quietly to himself as he listened to Garcia

“This is wild,” Morgan said, leaning back in his seat with a grin as he looked out over the stadium. “I still can’t believe we know Valkyrie. Like, know her know her.”

“She’s amazing,” JJ agreed. “This new album? Masterpiece.”

Rossi chuckled, sipping his whiskey. “I think we’re all in agreement. What about you, Aaron? Nervous to be the muse tonight?”

Hotch, seated at the edge of their group, straightened his tie and gave Rossi a glance. “I’m just here to support her,” he said simply, his tone calm, the usual stoic Hotchner tone that showed no emotion. But the slight tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement, a crack in his normal demeanor that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.  

Garcia gasped dramatically, clutching her phone like it was a lifeline. “Oh my GOD, you’re blushing already!” she exclaimed, her fingers moving quickly to snap a picture. “This is going in the vault.”

Hotch sighed, but his smirk lingered. “Garcia put the phone away.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, grinning as she angled for another shot. “This is for posterity, boss man. You’ll thank me later.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with a laugh. “Posterity, huh? I think she just wants proof she knows someone famous by association.”

“Don’t we all?” JJ added with a grin, nudging Garcia.  

Before Hotch could muster a reply, the rest of the lights in the arena shut off, and the venue was plunged into darkness. A wave of energy rippled through the crowd, the excited murmur rising into a roar of cheers that shook the room. The stage lights remained off, the suspense growing as the audience clapped and whistled.  

Then it started — a chant, low at first but growing louder with each passing second as more and more of your fans caught onto it.  

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

Garcia clutched Morgan’s arm, her excitement bubbling over. “Do you hear that? That’s for her!”

Hotch leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the stage. The chant grew louder.  

The first note of the opening song rang out, clear and strong, echoing through the venue like a call to arms. The stage erupted in light, beams of gold and white cutting through the darkness as the music built to its first crescendo. Suddenly, a platform at the center of the stage began to rise, smoke swirling around its edges.

And there you were, emerging from the floor, your silhouette framed by the blinding spotlights behind you, creating a halo-like effect that made you look angelic. The crowd’s cheers exploded into an uproar, the sheer volume rattling the balcony where the BAU team sat.

You stepped forward with effortless grace, your breathtaking costume catching every flicker of light. It shimmered with each movement, the intricate detailing making you look like a constellation. The energy you radiated was magnetic — electric — and it pulled every eye in the room to you.

Hotch’s gaze never left you, although he could sense several men in the pit staring at you with hungry looks — he couldn't lie, it made him a little jealous and perhaps even a little overprotective, wanting to jump in a hide you away.

He’d seen you perform countless times, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t just the crowd or the grandeur of the venue; it was the unmistakable pride that welled in his chest watching you command the stage as you did.  

As you launched into the second song, your voice soaring effortlessly through the lyrics, you began scanning the crowd. Your smile widened when your eyes found him. You paused for the briefest moment, microphone in hand, before pointing directly at him.  

The reaction from the audience was deafening, a mix of cheers and laughter as people tried to decipher who the gesture was for. Hotch, however, stiffened in his seat, his normally composed self giving way to a look of wide-eyed surprise.  

“Oh no, she didn’t!” Morgan barked out, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against Rossi. “Hotch! You’ve been claimed!”

“She’s bold,” JJ whispered, grinning as she nudged Garcia.  

Garcia fanned herself dramatically. “Forget Hotch — I’m in love.”

Hotch shook his head, a small, embarrassed smile playing at his lips. He tugged at his tie, adjusting it more out of habit than necessity, and kept his focus on you.  

And you didn’t stop.  

As you moved through your set, you stole moments to lock eyes with him, a sly smile or a quick glance that sent the team into fits of laughter every time. During a particularly sultry number, you sauntered across the stage, letting the lyrics drip with honey as you zeroed in on him. The crowd saw a confident performer captivating her audience — although you were sure a few fans had caught on by now, and that you'd find edits and clips from tonight on social media in the following days — Hotch only saw you teasing him mercilessly.  

By the time you reached the final song, Hotch’s usual exterior had cracked. His tie was loose, his cheeks faintly pink, and his lips tugged into an almost constant smile.  

“She’s singing to you again,” Garcia teased, leaning over to snap another picture.  

Reid tilted his head. “Well actually, she’s pointed at him approximately seven times now in this song alone. That seems statistically significant.”

“Statistically significant” Morgan repeated in a mocking tone, laughing. “Reid, it means they're whipped for each other.”

Hotch leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving you, and shook his head. “You’re all ridiculous.”

But when you sent one last wink his way before stepping off stage before returning for the encore, even he couldn’t deny the truth.  

[moscatosin]

🖤 yule. tom riddle 🖤 just some drabble fluff because my heart needed it and the world deserves soft tom. champagne with a strawberry float. (0.7k)

Tonight is nothing short of perfect. The Yule Ball. You’ve been dreaming about this day for weeks on end; that cloud nine feeling never passing. Outside, snow falls around the castle almost shyly, as if reluctant to interrupt the evening you’re smitten within, and you watch it with a close eye as it moves as gracefully as you wish tonight, you also would.

Standing beneath the high vaulted ceilings of the Great Hall, the gentle light from the candles flickering above spill soft, golden waves across the stone floors that give the impression you’re no longer in Hogwarts, but the equivalent of heaven. The orchestra’s notes playing wrap around you like something out of a Disney like fantasy.

This fantasy though – it doesn’t start with the music. It doesn’t even start with the ball. It starts with a boy. With him. With Tom. Impeccably dressed, impossibly composed and tonight, with eyes as vivid as espresso that’s managed to trap a storm. The Slytherin boy carved undeniably from secrets and silence is somehow tonight, standing beside you with his hand at the small of your back, feeling… warm. Treacherously warm.

The way he looks at you is still a challenge that you’re getting use to. His gaze isn’t cold nor calculating the way he wears it for everyone else. For you, it’s soft. It lingers. Tonight, his gaze flickers over you in such a way that it feels he’s trying his hardest to memorize the exact way you look beneath the candle lights. Ethereal. His personal guardian angel. Better yet – just his.

“Tom, you’re staring”, you tease out quietly; voice a whisper as you adjust the hem of your gown almost nervously. His lips tilt and curl into something that isn’t quite a smile, but close enough to one that it causes your heart to skip a beat.

“Am I not allowed to admire what’s mine?”

His selection of words is murmured low enough that only you can hear them. The question is possessive – yes, undeniably, but there’s a sincere reverence buried within the words also. As if he still can’t quite believe you agreed to accompany him. That you in fact, are actually standing beside him. That you chose him. Him of all people. By god, would you do so again and again and again.

“I’ve been thinking..”, he adds on smoothly. You tilt your head up to glance at him and chuckle.

“That’s dangerous”, you joke, nudging him slightly with your shoulder as to your surprise, you hear him let out the faint breath of a laugh. It’s rare – the sound and its softness. Instantly, it begins to stir something in your chest you can’t quite put a word or description to.

“We should dance.”

Oh lord, no this must be a dream. Tom offers you his hand, low and steady and you don’t hesitate. Walking you to the dancefloor, he pulls you in close; closer than etiquette on a night like this suggests, as your fingers intertwine with his and his other hand finds its way to your waist; holding on as if you’re something fragile and precious. His touch is ever so steady. Protective. Caring.

When your eyes meet his beneath the slow swirl of the candlelight above, your world immediately blurs at the edges. Transforming for a moment into something straight out of a fairytale. Tonight, there’s no talk of power, no talk of school, no talk of legacy he wants to create, no talk of the future. No whispers or suggestions or rumours of the man he’ll one day become. Right now, it’s just the two of you. You and him; spinning in your own little hushed world of unexpected romance, too young to care.

Leaning in closer as the dance slows; your lips barely brush the edge of his jaw earning you a weak, submissive kind of moan that he’d not dream to let another girl ever hear. “You’re being awfully sweet tonight. Should I be worried?”

As he looks down at you; eyes painted with a curiosity that suggests you’ve just said something profoundly foolish, Tom finally smiles, his lips tentatively meeting yours for a first kiss.

“For you – I always will be”, he murmurs; the dance between you two continuing long after the music has faded – and in this moment, god; how you believe him.

[bananafire11]

How Jax ripped his ear

Drabble below based off said drawings

Jax’s paws thumped across the tiles of the old Candy Castle, beelining it for the nearest window. The distorted growls of an abstracted bounced off the lengthy hallway and the fur at the nape of his neck stood on end.

He’d used one of these windows to enter the castle, so despite the medieval-esque bars covering them he knew how to get 'em open. The digital world wasn’t nearly as reliable as he could hope, but there were little things that came in his favor.

He skidded to a stop in front of said window, bag jostling against his hip. He hoped the trouble he went through for this ammo was worth it. He gripped the metal bars and yanked them up until he heard a click, locking the rusty bars into place.

His ear flicked at another grumble from across the hall, so he vaulted himself over the window seal. He pulled his palms away from the grimey surface, just registering a creaking groan and a sharp ching, before a searing pain cut through his left ear.

A strangled scream made it past his teeth before he could even think to stop it. His hand clenched over his lips and he tilted his chin, trying to see what had happened.

Despite his spotty vision he could just make out how those damned rusty bars had pierced his left ear, successfully trapping him to the window. His hands shook, reaching for the metal and clasping his dirty hands around the poles. Fuck, he was trembling.

Through the zinging pain a glitching roar called from within the building and Jax’s breath hitched. Of course it’d heard him. Of fucking course. Peering in, he saw the black mass of multi-colored eyes rounding the corner at the end of the hall, careening straight for him. Fuck.

His trembling arms shook the bars, yanking and yanking but they wouldn’t lift no matter how hard he tried. Shit, of all times, why now?

The abstracted was nearing closer with every passing second, and if he could just get his ear loose he’d be able to make it to the car he’d parked out back.

Another booming growl, and he realized he’d have to yank it out.

He grit his teeth and only took a moment to prepare, muscles tense, before he swung his head back. His vision blurred, black dots dancing along and his head pounded. Blood spurted to the ground and his hands hovered around his ear. His legs wobbled and involuntary tears breached his tear ducts.

He stumbled backward, only thankful that he wasn’t a rabbit caught in the snare anymore. The abstracted hurled itself toward him, clanging against the wall and shaking the metal, and so Jax swiveled toward the car. His legs carried him faster than he’d even realized because next thing he knew he was inside the vehicle.

He fumbled for the keys, shoving them into the engine and cranking them until the thing rumbled to life.

In a blur, his paw was on the pedal and he was racing for the gates.

[hearts-and-soul]

Yandere!Jiaoqiu: Short Drabbles and headcanons

Warning: Dark content, Yandere, Force-Feeding, Drug Use, Non-Con, Kidnapping, Forced Marriages, Very unhealthy romantic relationships and power dynamics

(Written before 2.5)

Some short drabbles about Jiaoqiu that I wrote a while back- before it was kept in my vault of a head for a long time LMAO. Feel free to let me know what you think!

Yandere!Jiaoqiu who loves force feeding you his cooking.

He practically shovels spoonful after spoonful of his food down your throat, even managing to hit the back of your throat with it.

You can only cough and splutter, but all it does is give him more openings to shove another spoonful in.

By the end of each feeding session, you're just wretching and sobbing.

It burns-- it hurts-- yet, despite your incessant sobbing, Jiaoqiu merely looks into your teary eyes with a cold smile.

"You know- I wouldn't have to do this, if you would just behave and eat your meals." He says as he picks up the cutlery and empty bowl; walking out and leaving you writhing on the floor.

Yandere Jiaoqiu who keeps you drugged all the time while he's away

You don't even get the luxury of relishing the time away from him. You wake up, then get drugged out of your mind for several hours.

By the time the drug wears off-- he's already come home, and then it's all about spending time with him until it's time for you to sleep again.

Rinse and repeat. Again. And again. And again.

You find that you dream a lot in these drugged out states. You dream of being as far away from him as possible.

You dream of your home, your family, and your friends.

But it scares you that as days, weeks and months go by, the faces of your loved ones in your dreams; your only solace in your shitty living arrangements with Jiaoqiu, are growing increasingly blurred with each passing dream.

Yandere!Jiaoqiu who uses your family as leverage to strike a one-sided deal

You beg the Foxian to let you go see your family-- even just once. You bargain and plead, promising him that he can accompany you, and you wouldn't run away anymore. Just please, let you see them again.

"Please, I'll do anything-- I just need to see them one more time--"

You should have known you were practically making a deal with a demon as he smiled at your helpless plea; how he had so eagerly agreed to make the arrangements.

The next time you see your family, they're crying and congratulating you on your wedding with Jiaoqiu.

Singing him lavish praises of how your marriage to him has helped them so much. Didn't you know? Jiaoqiu has been providing them with a seemingly endless supply of credits and helping with medication you could only dream of affording with your previous, meager paycheck.

Your parents are practically sobbing tears of joy as they talk about how they can finally afford to send your brothers to a prestigious school.

And as they cry and thank Jiaoqiu profusely, you can feel despair creeping up on you as you realize this man has your entire family wrapped around his finger.

"If you want them to stay happy; you'll have to behave more from now on, no?"

He practically whispers into your ear with a chuckle.

[secondratefiction]

That 70's Show Drabble request: It's your and your twin brother Eric's 16th birthday, kitty and red usually remember but they forget yours this year, your boyfriend Hyde notices and gives you one of the best birthdays ever, including you two both having sex for the first time. Hyde also does a little cussing at red And kitty for forgetting their youngest daughter's special day.

'ello my love, always nice to see you around 😁

Afraid I might have gone a little off the brief for this one, but hopefully it still hits at least most of what you wanted 💜

(Ok, yes, timeline wise, Hyde was living with the Foreman's before he got the car, but this is basically the fandom versions of "...who's like is it anyway?" where the stories are made up and canon events don't matter, so... just roll with it)

You're blaming Eric for this.

He was the one who decided he didn't want to share a birthday party with you any more

Now, granted, you had agreed, mostly out of anger and annoyance with him in the moment - "Fine! Why would I want another stupid Star Wars themed party anyway!" - But you hadn't thought it would end up here...

The decision had been made after the disastrous aftermath of your last combined party, and it was something that had slipped your mind over the last year.

Of course in the month before, Eric was sure to bring it up, and remind your parents that you were doing separate celebrations... although, you weren't expecting exactly how that ended up working out.

Your mother had seemed to pull out all the stops for this year "Sixteen is such a special age after all..."

There were pancakes and all of Eric's favorites at breakfast... only Eric's though

And you tried not to let that get to you, but you didn't even get so much as a happy birthday out of any of them... not even your Dad which stung quite a bit considering that it was no secret that he had a tendency to favor you over Eric and even Lori.

But you sucked it up, put on a brave face, and tried to act like it wasn't a big deal... which you were actually pretty good at -

At least until you got sent down to the basement to collect a few things for your mom. That's when Hyde spotted you...

He sat up from the couch looking like he was struggling to wake up. Which, in all fairness, he was, "Hey, little Foreman." You rolled your eyes at him, leaning on the ack of the couch, "Did you sleep here again?" "Yeah." He nodded, leaning into kiss you. "You're gonna get caught..." He only smirked up at you with a shrug, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Standing up, he vaulted over the back of the couch to pull you into a proper kiss that honestly made you a little weak in the knees, leaning into him more as he pulled away, "Happy Birthday baby."

And just like that the damn broke...

You let out a strangled, broken laugh, quickly burying your face in his chest to try and hide the fact tears had immediately sprung up, and that you were losing the fight to keep them contained.

To say Hyde was caught off guard would be the under statement of the century. He almost panicked as he scrambled trying to figure out what was wrong, what he'd said to set you off.

All of this despite your poor attempts to assure him it was nothing. "Hey, no. Look at me," He pulled you back from him so you couldn't keep hiding, and waiting until you actually looked up to meet his eyes, "If you are this upset, it is not 'nothing'. Now, tell me what happened."

You tried to fight it, keep your mouth shut, but there was an intensity in his gaze that left no room for argument... he wasn't going to let this go until you told him, so you did, laying out all the events of the morning, "... I can't believe they fucking forgot my birthday."

For a moment Hyde's expression was unreadable and you had just started to ask what he was thinking when he grabbed you by your elbow and started walking you towards the door "Wait! Steven, what are you - I'm supposed to be grabbing a box for my mom." "Don't worry about it, I'll get it."

He walked you straight out of the garage, putting you in the Camino, still very confused before he turned around a disappeared back down the basement steps.

He grabbed the box you had indicated and made his way up to the kitchen. Smiling tightly and nodding in greeting when Kitty noticed him. "I didn't realize you were here Steven." "I just came by to pick up Y/N... plans for her birthday, you know."

He took the moment of realization and shock on her face as a chance to drop the box on the table and make a quick exit out the sliding glass door.

He was sliding into the driver's seat by the time Kitty could be heard shouting for Red inside the house, throwing his arm behind your head as he looked to back the car out of the drive

"Ok..." You said slowly as he turned around to put the car in drive, pulling away from your house, "So what are we doing?"

"Don't know yet, that's up to you," He said, smirking at you, letting his hand come to rest on your knee, "Tell me what you want to do, and I'll make it happen."

You couldn't help but laugh a little bit, almost beaming at him as you put your own hand over his, "Anything I want?" "Anything."

[winterarmyy]

Never Lie To Me

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Y/N's sinful thoughts towards the Asset is reciprocated.

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x hydra agent!female!reader

Words: 3.4k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, purely smut and lack of plot, honestly. messy writing and lack of dialogue, sorry for that. Others may include probably incorrect russian due to the use of google translate, marking kink (if you squint), metal hand kink, finger-fucking, clit spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, soldat doesn't talk much, i figured he is more reserved but that doesn't mean his actions are (*wink wink*) he is kinda rough but the reader highkey loves it, just bunch of horny pent-up mfs getting some action for once, y'know.

Inspiration: "Cause I can see you waiting down the hall for me and I can see you up against the wall with me." – I Can See You (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't understand why was she sent to this field mission. There were literally dozens of others that were much suitable to do it and yet they chose her of all people? Considering her much leisure job for the past months, which basically just to guard a lab, Hydra seemed to forgot that her body have been lack of combat practice.

She hated this. This mission. This organization. All of it.

Y/N was one of those kids that Hydra stole from the orphanages for their Phantom program; it is where they train, or accurately brainwash, the kids into highly skilled assassin. And she was one of the top 5 out of the program in her batch.

But after a certain incident in one of the mission in Peru, she was temporarily relocated to Siberia to, as they say, "recover" before they can assign get into another mission. There, she was given a much lenient task, which was to guard the lab where the Winter Soldiers were created.

Those few months was both heaven and hell for her; heaven was that she didn't need to be soaked in the blood of the innocent lives and hell was that she had to be a bystander to the cruelty of the dehumanizing process of the Winter Soldier program.

Sure, everything Hydra does to its "followers" are, by nature, imbrute. I mean, she was trained like a dog since she was but a child, but this. This was just another level of evil. Such vile and merciless thing to do to another human being. The muzzles that Hydra shoved in their mouth doesn't really help to reduce the excruciating noises that they made.

Though, while she was physically forced to witness the atrociousness, there was one constant thing that kept her mind off from it all.

They call him the Asset. In fact he was the first one. But she'd rather think of him simply as a man sleeping in a cryo chamber.

Y/N had heard of this "monster", the rumours were terrible as they come and go, but she find it hard to believe that when the soldat had such a calm and kind expression on his face, even if his features were frozen in ice. That was her first impression of him; then day by day, and what felt like ages, she watched him.

Her curiosity got the best of her when she started to think of scenarios and possibilities that the man had quickly became her escape from the horrid reality around her.

Though she spend most of her time trying not to feel it, but the other times, well... the thoughts went a little wild. At one point, they got too personal even for her own mind to comprehend.

After a month of reporting at the new post, she heard the whispers of "thawing the asset" from other agents and scientists around the lab. And surely enough, one of those day, the soldat was brought back from his slumber.

It didn't cross her mind before, of what color laid behind those closed lids. But when she saw his eyes for the first time, she was in complete awe. They were blue as the vast ocean she once jet-skied over; but they were as cold like when she stepped foot at this snow covered facility.

The contrast of his dark hair and tanned skin only makes his bright eyes to become the most prominent feature on his face. And Y/N just couldn't tear her gaze away, especially when the Hydra agent that supposed to retrieve him was making such a big fuss over how slow the soldat was reacting to their commands.

What do they expect? He was literally frozen for lord knows how long just a few seconds ago. Everything must be dissociating for him. So of course, the man's mind and body needs time to adjust.

The soldat abruptly fell on his knees after exiting the chamber, causing one of the guards to strike a kick across his face, "вставай, паршивая собака! (Get up, you lousy dog!)"

And that was it, Y/N had enough of it, "Hey!" she shouted as her stomped towards the guards. The duo quickly stood straight and showed their respect to her; knowing that those who graduated from Phantom program has higher ranking than them.

The moment Y/N found her footing in front of him, the palm of her hand landed harshly across his face, "Do you realized what you just did?" She asked as the taller regained to his prior composure.

"That man!" She pointed at the soldat who was obediently sitting on the floor, "Is Hydra's most prized asset. He alone is worth thousands of you useless scumbags. And you had the audacity to lay your hands on him?!" She roared and the lab fell into silent.

The two guards can only bite on their own tongue knowing what she said was true. The soldat was in fact the Hydra's precious weapon, as for now that he was the only one who successfully weilded the super soldier serum in his veins.

Y/N walked around and stood in front of the soldat, "Are you hurt, soldat?" she asked as her gaze fell on him. His head was hanging low as he bored his empty eyes into the shine of Y/N's black boots; he shook his head and replied, "No, ma'am"

She knew he was lying, especially when she saw the drips of blood on his pants, "Look at me." She ordered in which the soldat complied. And there it was, the source of the mess, the red cut on the corner of his lips. Her frown only deepened when the bruises were slowly forming on his cheek bones.

Y/N crouched to his level, as her hand reaching for his cheeks. His body halted and stiffened when she approached, but only to be surprised by the soft carress of her fingers on his face, "If you're not injured, then what's this?" She whispered lowly; a tone where just the two of them can hear.

The soldat's empty eyes almost melt in hers; he never saw her before, who is she? Why was there so much kindness in her eyes? And why was she holding him so gently?

He let her careful thumb wiped the blood from his chin before whispered again, "Never lie to me, soldat. Do you understand?"  The soldat obediently nodded as a spiral of indescribable emotions stirred within him. His eyes lingered at the way her lips formed into a soft smile, "Good." She praised.

Since then, the soldat's gaze had remain on her almost all the time. From the moment she threatened the two guards, to the time she looked away from the tortured candidates of the Winter Soldier program, to this very second as she undresses every part of her suit.

Though the mission was a success however, their plane was utterly wrecked by an unforeseen mini gun. So they were forced to walk through the snow storm and find shelter at one of Hydra's safe house.

It was not rare for the soldat to be paired with other agents on a mission but never with a woman. Much less the pretty little bunny that he had been obsessing over. Ever since that incident, the soldat often think of her. And he really tried too keep everything professional but something within him changed lately.

One particularly distinct moment that he experienced that made it clear to him; it was when he was waiting in the hall for his handlers to drag him around the facilities, and she happen to walk towards him from the opposite side. And when he brushed pass her, he noticed how his hands was itching to grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall.

As if there was this strong urge to claim her, mark her, fuck her. That was when he realized. The soldat wanted her. He wanted ruin her for everyone else. He wanted her to be his. But, he knew they keep watchful eyes on him. On both of them. And he can't risk that.

But now that she was standing right in front of him, in her underwear no less, how was he supposed to control himself?

Y/N turned her attention towards the soldat, he stood absolutely still that she almost thought he was literally frozen, "Why are you not stripping? Even with that super soldier serum in you, I doubt that you don't feel cold from those snow-soaked clothes."

Maybe it was the dim-lit room, but she swore that the soldat eyes darkened when she walk towards him. Especially when his eyes ranked the way her wet undergarments stick onto her skin.

How many times did she fantasize about the way he was looking at her. How many times did she made herself cum from the thoughts on grinding her cunt into his metal fingers.

Too many to count.

Especially when, in her head, she could see him in his suit with his knives, she could see him throwing his black mask on the floor, she could see him bending her over to his will, she could see him make her want him, crave him, need him.

And whenever their eyes met, she often think of the what-ifs between them. Like, what would he do if she went to touch him now? What would he do if Hydra never found them out? What would he do if they never made a sound?

What would he think if she made him her own personal addiction? Then will he entertain her fantasies by making her his own secret mission?

"Remember what I told you, soldat?" She asked as her hands reached for his mask.

Without hesitation, the soldat replied, "Never lie to you." as his face was bare for her to see.

Y/N took a step forward, so close that he could almost feel her skin on him, "Now tell me, what do you want?" Her eyes found his diluted ones as he lifted his gaze from her cleavage to meet hers.

His cock was rather truthful even from the beginning; now more than before when it twitched painfully in the confinement of his pants. The soldat hissed to the feel of it before he confessed, "I want you."

Y/N couldn't help but to smile, "Then, have me, soldat."

That was all he needed to hear. Her permission to have her, to own her. Then, very next second, he had her body pinned firmly against the wall, his lips on her soft ones, his wet tongue exploring in her mouth.

The soldat had his metal hand gripping the back of her neck, not wanting that pretty head of hers to hit the wall; while the other hand unabashedly teared the bra off from her body.

Breaking the kiss, the soldat's lustful gaze watched how her breasts became bare for him. So pretty and perky. His cock twitched madly as if it was ordering him to touch them, suck on them. And he did just that.

The soldat took her right nipple into his hot mouth while his free hand pawed on the other. Y/N moaned lewdly at roughness of his hand and mouth. When she threw her head back, that was when she saw it. At the corner of the room, she noticed a CCTV camera directly situated towards their direction

She grabbed a handful of his long hair, and lightly tugged him back but he refused to stop sucking on her. Y/N huffed when she whispered, "They're watching us."

That was when the soldat quickly released her from his mouth and quickly hovered his huge body over her, he growled possessively as his quick eyes scanned for all the nearby camera.

Y/N chuckled amusingly at his reaction, "Do you not like it when they watch us?" She teased. The soldat growled again as he pulled her closer, her nipples perked even more now that they touched the cold fabric of his clothes, "Mine. Mine alone." He declared.

Y/N looked up at him with a pair of seductive eyes, "Then, what are you going to do about it?" She taunted. The soldat swiftly pulled his knives out from his thigh strap and threw it directly at the lens of each camera in the room. Now no one would have a chance witness her divine body, or see what her face looks like when he make her cum.

There weren't much of intelligible words that came out of his mouth after that, besides the grumble noises of the word "mine".

The soldat latched her mouth onto her skin, particulary around her neck, collarbone and the valley of her breast. He kissed and licked and sucked to leave his mark on her as his metal hand dug into her hips.

Meanwhile, the flesh of his right hand slide right into her panties. He fingers trailed the outer slit of her cunt; as if he was purposely teasing her, "Зайка (bunny)" he groaned against her neck when he felt how wet she was. She squirmed needily under his hand, when his middle finger poked her entrance while his thumb grazed across her clit.

"So wet, all for me?" He purred as his finger slowly dug into her hole. Y/N whined and grabbed his wrist before he could go any further, "Want your metal fingers, soldat." she slurred deliriously; already drunk with his touches.

It took all his might to not fuck her right there and then when she let him have her. The soldat wanted to treat her gently, prepare her sweetly. Now that she had confessed such sinful desire, something in him just snapped.

He pulled his hand out, and effortlessly ripped her panties from her body before lifting one of her legs up, pushing her thighs towards her body. She yelped at the sudden roughness, embarrassment crept across her spine when the soldat licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, wide open for him.

"Want my metal fingers huh,  Зайка (bunny)?" He trailed his metal fingers along her wet hole, "You got it." He abruptly shoved two of his digits into her, causing her to let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion.

The soldat didn't give her time to adjust, he simply pulled his fingers out to the very tip and thrust it back into her. And he does it again, and again and again. Until the pain turn into sheer pleasure.

When her eyes rolled back and shut close, the soldat growled disapprovingly, "No. Don't close your eyes. Look. Look down. Watch how your wet little hole take my metal fingers. That's it. Look at you. Fuck. Look. At. You." His pace didn't lose its rhythm when he fucked his fingers hard and fast; he curled them just right every time he hit that deep spot inside her.

His metal fingers was better that she had ever imagine, and the sight that she was looking at was so lewd that she was already so overstimulated from it, then when his thumb circled her clit, she thought she was seeing actual stars.

Streams of fluid was squelching everytime he shoved his fingers knuckles deep into her, that it trickled down his hand. It was so messy and the soldat loves it. He want her to be this messy all the time. He wanted to clean her up with his tongue. Lick every drip of her sweet fluid, swollow it like he was thristy and she was water.

At the this point, he would be willing to stay on his knees if it means that he get to have her cunt on his mouth always.

The soldat growled at the way she moaned so shamelessly at how harsh his fingers was violating her sweet pussy. He kept on rubbing on her clit and watched her body shuddered when he slap on it. Seeing her reaction, he continued to spank her clit and he fucked her harder; one, two, three, four, until she cried out a long moan and her pussy gushed with her creamy cum.

And seeing how her body trembled, her cream dripping out onto his hand, the soldat almost combust in his pants. Though apart of him wanted to feel her sweaty skin on his own, another just wanted to feel her warm pussy.

So, instead of wasting more of his time undressing himself, the soldat hurriedly unzipped his pants to release his aching cock out. He pulled his finger out and licked her cum clean while his other hand lazily pumped his leaking length, "Taste so good, Зайка (bunny). Bet you feel good too."

Y/N whined at his action, he looked so hot and bothered. And something about him fully clothed while pumping his needy cock for her; it just drives her to near feral. She let out an exasperated gasp when the soldat maneuvered her legs to cling around his waist, while his hand gripped on her hips. Her voice then stuck on her throat when he thrust his cock deep inside in one stroke.

His size was stretching her out so much that it burned, a good type of burn; in fact, the best type. The soldat on the other hand almost burst his cum the moment he entered her. She felt so good. Better that his rough hands when he jerked off to the though of her. But he was determined to make her cum on his dick before he get his own high.

So without letting her adjust to his size, he slowly pulled out and harshly slammed right back into her; fuck does it feel so good. And her mewling so needily for him does not help the situation at all. He repeated the same thing over and over until he managed to suck up his need to cum, then fasten his pace. And the sound of her wetness rubbing against his cock when he pounded into her was so damned and sinful, that never wanted to forget.

Her back repeatedly hit the wall from the force of his thrust that she needed to hold on his shoulders for support. His pace was fast and deep, almost erratic. Her moans broken when she felt the tip of her cock ramming at her womb, her walls clenching in delight to welcome such huge and hot length inside her. Every stroke was perfect and if she had no self-control she would be cumming each time the soldat forced his cock into her.

His hips slapped against her and she eagerly followed his every thrust, desperate to meet his skin as much as he was for her. And when she looked up to him, the soldat was looking directly into her. His ocean blues dove into her soul as his grunts tangled with her cries.

His breathing stuttered and his pace flatter. She could tell he was getting close. But, the soldat refused to; not until she cum first.

In and out. In and out. His pace became brutally delicious. Her nerves were stretching so good that her toes curled and that was when she felt the coil forming. Short needy pants left her lips, each one was a sign that she was getting closer to ecstacy, "I'm cumming, soldat. Please,, don't stop."

The soldat groaned, "Don't hold back." He pounded into her impossibly harder; and the delicious drag of his cock continued to punish her into pure ecstasy, forcing her cum to leak out and lather around his throbbing length, "That’s it, Cum for me, Зайка (bunny). Cum for your soldat,, ahh fuck so tight, i'm cumming too, ahh." The soldat chased his own release as continued to thrust inside her clenching hole.

"Fuckkkk i'm cumming inside you, Зайка (bunny). Will mark you mine with my cum. Ahhh ahhh fuckk", the soldat moaned to the addictive feel of her cunt milking him, and soon after when it hits him, his cock throbbed wildly as his cream leaked from the tip, endlessly filling her womb full with his warm cum.

Y/N whined to the amount of warm fluid spreading inside her. And when she thought his slowed thrust was a sign of an end, she couldn't be wrong. The soldat slowly pulled his cock out to the very tip, just pound it back into her. He groaned at the sight of his creamy cum spilling out, circling where his cock was stuffing her. Then he does it again, and again.

Until she started to moan for him, "hmmm,, s-soldat?" She hoped that he would explain himself.

His dark eyes only glint with lust and greed when a small smiled curved on his lips, "Oh, Зайка (bunny), I'm not done with you until I mark every part of you as mine."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This scene has been played out in my head the whole day when Speak Now (TV) came out. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this short read! Drop some thought behind for me would you?

[ravenclaws-stuff]

Harry Potter Love Language Drabbles

Slytherin Boys

Draco Malfoy: Gift Giving

I run my fingers across the emerald green dress, a wide grin on my face. It is absolutely beautiful. I could just picture myself wearing it. Draco and I dancing, swaying to the music.

“See something you like, love?” I pull my hand away, hoping Draco misses the fact I was looking at the beautiful dress. “Oh no. Nothing seems to have caught my eye.” The lie falls out of my mouth, smiling as I reach up, pushing the fringe out of his face. “Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks. I promised Pansy we would meet up after we were done here.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Only if you’re sure, you don’t need anything.” I nod, pulling Draco out of Gladrags. “I’m sure.”

“Good night Dray.” I kiss his cheek. Draco reaches up, pushing the hair out of my face. “Goodnight love.” I walk up the stairs, leading to the girl’s dormitory. “You have something on your bed.” Daphne calls as she walks into the bathroom. My brow furrows. "It’s cute!”

A gasp escapes past my lips as I see the emerald dress from Gladrags laying on my bed.

H..how?

Draco must have noticed I was looking at the damn thing. My eyes widen as I see the note beside it.

Love, please never hide anything you want from me. My vaults are for you to spend. Wear this Saturday night. We are going on a date. Dinner and a trip to your favorite bookstore. I love you, Princess. Get some sleep.

Theodore Nott: Acts of Services

“Theo, you really don’t have to do this.” I say from the top of the counter. Theo all but threw me on top of it, claiming I needed to rest my feet. I simply roll my eyes. I am pregnant, not invalid. Yet, I bit my tongue, knowing how futile it was to argue with my husband. "Alright, my love. Time to get you out of these clothes.” I giggle at the wiggle of his eyebrow as Theo undresses me. I once asked why he preferred to undress me, he said it was like Christmas morning every time. “Water isn't boiling as much as you prefer. Not good for the baby.” I roll my eyes, frowning. I miss my hot baths. “Join me Teddy?” I ask, placing my hands under his shirt, hope shining in my eyes. Theo leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “If I ever say no, avada me.” I lean against his chest, seeking his warmth. “Theo.” I whine. Theo picks me up, placing me into the warm water before crawling into the bath behind me. “I'm serious. Avada me.”

Blaise Zabini: Physical touch

Gryffindor beats Ravenclaw in a landslide. It seems the eagles have lost their touch after Cho left last year. I groan as my feet touches the grass. “What’s wrong, doll?” Blaise asks, a teasing tone evident in his voice. Whining, I look up at the castle. “The castle is so bloody far and my feet are killing me.” Blaise chuckles. “Just leaves me here to perish. Don’t forget about me, Blaise.” The rest of the group laughs at my antics, used to my dramatics. “Well I am not leaving you here.” Blaise crouches down, his back to me. “What are you doing?” Another chuckle falls from his lips. “Giving me girl a piggy back ride so she can rest her poor aching feet.” I laugh, climbing onto his back. “You're the best, B.” I whisper into his ear, placing a lingering kiss behind his ear. His hands tightens around my thigh. “I know.”

[ninibeingdelulu]

Beach date ✧ pt. 2

Plot: A date at the beach with your grumpy boyfriend after one of his big games.

.part one.

Two hours lazed by in that perfect beach idyll. The sun had drifted lower on the horizon, casting everything in burnished hues of tangerine and blazing crimson.

Foamy wavelets lapped almost soothingly at the shoreline only paces from where you and Sae reclined on that frayed, sand-dusted towel.

You laid splayed on your stomach, chin propped on folded forearms while chasing the last few rays attempting to bronze your bare back and shoulders.

Occasionally tilting your head sidelong to shoot Sae those bright, rambling commentary on every stray thought bubbling up.

"...and then Yumi-chan goes, 'No, that's not at all how you're supposed to crimp pie dough!' while my aunt just stands there covered in flour like a blushing ghost. I swear, those two are hopeless together sometimes..."

Despite the thick lenses shielding his eyes, you could feel Sae's flat, glazed-over look boring directly into your animated profile as you prattled on.

Huffing out those short, dismissive grunts whenever prompting a response that never really arrived beyond his usual blasé acknowledgments.

At one point, you rolled halfway onto your side - propping yourself up on an elbow to affectionately brush the salt-stiffened strands away from his furrowed brow.

Sae regarded you through those blank, barely cracked slits with the minimal required movement of shifting his lips.

"You do realize I'm only listening to around twelve percent of the drabble leaking out right now, yeah?"

He drawled in that signature monotone laced with blatant disinterest.

You simply grinned back unperturbed, poking that protruding lower lip playfully before snuggling your cheek into the warm divot of his pec - absorbing the steady thrum of Sae's heartbeat beneath the heated skin.

"Mhmm, and yet I can feel those glacier eyes drinking in every single twitch across my face like I'm the only damn interesting thing for miles, babe."

A withering snort gusted across your crown while Sae's heavy arm draped over the dip of your waist - thick fingers idly tracing shapes along your lower spine in that easy, practiced manner.

Wordlessly absorbing each animated lilt and cadence pouring from your lips like a man entranced.

Because beneath all those curmudgeonly layers, you recognized Sae's version of openly soaking in these simple yet coveted pockets of tranquility.

Living solely for the ephemeral instances where he could steal you away into his world for awhile - snarls melting into unguarded appreciation while committing every molecule to his steel trap of a memory vault.

He'd never voice that sentiment in so many words, obviously. But you heard that silent confession thundering through the steady cadence thrumming beneath your cheek and the scorching brand of his sidelong stare roving every sun-kissed curve on display nonetheless.

Eventually dozing against that solid bastion, lulled into a light slumber by the rhythmic push-and-pull of waves overlaying the breaths puffing through your tousled tresses.

Leaving Sae free to admire your tranquil state at his leisure with those hungry cobalt pools - hungrily drinking down another cherished memory to stoke the smoldering fire always simmering within...

[penpassthepen]

Timeless (Rise!Leo x Reader) (2012! Leo x reader)

ROTTMNT + 12’ TMNT x reader

Rise! Y/N meets 2012! Y/N

^could be read as Rise! Or 12! Leo x reader?

fluff :) gn reader, romantic, Drabble

SO SO PROUD OF THIS 🫶🏻

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And run away and left it all behind

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

“Wait, wait, wait. So you’re saying you’re me?” You shook your head as you processed, staring at…well, yourself. They looked like you, just ever so slightly different. They felt different, too.

“I know, right?” They laughed, looking down. It was evident they were just as shell-shocked (pun intended) as you. I mean, it really is baffling. Whether you believe it or not, the multiverse is actually real. You would think will everything you’ve seen in your time of knowing the turtles, this wouldn’t be so shocking.

But this was all so overwhelming. There’s another you? Not to mention another Donnie, Mikey, Raph, Splinter, April; all so different from each other…and another Leo.

“So…your Leo is really something, huh?” They cleared their throat, motioning their head towards the two blue-clad turtles. Your Leo was laughing obnoxiously (, probably at one of his own jokes,) and their Leo looking a little embarrassed.

“You could put it that way…” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face. He was your Leo.

They snickered in response, “For sure…mine is a little dense, but I still love him.”

Your eyes immediately shot up to meet theirs, full of surprise. “Wait…you guys are, like…a thing?”

“Yeah, you guys aren’t?” They seemed confused, almost like they already knew the answer.

“No, no, we are…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” You looked away, your head spinning with questions.

I mean, how was this even possible? Are there other versions of you? What are they like? What have these turtles faced? …Does this mean soulmates are real?

You looked up to them once again, hesitating. “Do you think it’s like this in every timeline?”

They met your gaze with a warm grin, taking your hand in theirs before looking back at their Leo then to yours, “I really hope so.”

You didn’t say it, but you did too. You really, really, really did. You wanted every iteration of you to find what you two have. To be pulled by the invisible string of fate and find each other. Even if every Leo wasn’t the same, that there would always be one similarity. That he would your Leo. And you’re sure that every version of you felt that way, too, especially the one sitting in front of you now.

“Please,” they spoke up again, “I want to hear all about you…and your Leo, I guess.”

You laughed openly, nodding, “where do I even start?”

…………………………….…………………………….………………….

versions for Raph, Mikey, Donnie, and April???

[bl4nk-card]

Howdy! How about short drabbles (at least 2 if that's ok!) with any characters you'd like, with a (female or gn) reader who is a bad kiter (their in-game description would state a significant vaulting speed debuff lol), but during the ongoing match they've actually managed to contain the hunter really well, to the point there were only 2 machines left (with them both already decoded approximately halfway)! The reader, often feeling as a burden to the survivors bc they usually kite badly, finally is knocked down, but a fellow teammate rushes to them, while the hunter is distracted with someone else, and praises the reader while healing them)

REBOUND ♡

✧ [ SFW general headcanons ] ✧

andrew kreiss, edgar valden, and william ellis (separated) & a gn! reader who did really well kiting <3

a/n: hhiii ! can be viewed as platonic or romantic for all three:D

✧༺♥༻ EDGAR VALDEN

edgar knows your usual kiting skills, rendering them .. as something that 'needs a little more work', in his eyes, for the team. your bond with him remained a little wounded at the start, much more if there is no form of intimacy within. the painter is difficult to convince otherwise once he is certain of a thought of belief of his own. and oftentimes, these thoughts, when it comes to matches, are not the friendliest. they do not cheer anyone up. in fact, they hurt. the painter does take matches seriously.

earlier in the match, when you shouted ' the hunter is nearby ! ', edgar was creating ideas in his head already; if he should rescue must you get downed 30 seconds in, or if he should come over and help. hence why, when you kited so well, completely overthrowing his thoughts, he couldn't quite believe it. he denied it, thinking in the back of his mind that a teammate was supporting you 5 ciphers in the match. one, two, three! ciphers popped, and that was the only time when you went down close to his area.

with uncertainty (because edgar was persistent on thinking about how you managed something as such), he approached to lighten your wounds at least a little bit while another teammate distracted the hunter from picking you up.

it was then that he, unexpectedly, gentled his touch. he tried to make them stern, putting it in his mind that healing was a serious business, but he couldn't. he handled your injuries with care.

because he looked up to you after what you've done. he'd never admit that, though.

' thank you- ' (name) muttered.

edgar huffed, finishing up on one of your arms. once more, he tried to do this with serious hands, but he still couldn't.

' .. you did .. good, '

it was a surprising comment. instead of his usual dismissals, he began to specify what about your kite had stood out to him:

' a splendid performance, considering the hunter was hullabaloo. i saw some of your predictions, your feet were not clumsy, you did not trip, '

' really? you think so? ', name mumbled in shock.

edgar's cheeks tinted to a hue of red ever so slightly from embarrassment, and he scoffs, pulling away.

' .. whatever, don't get ahead of yourself --- we're still not out of here. get up. '

✧༺♥༻ ANDREW KREISS

andrew knows you well; he keeps an eye on each individual of the manor. he is quite familiar with your enhanced skills in other areas, however, he fears for your safety when you kite the hunter.

' god, please let (name) be safe, ' he nearly shocked himself as he no longer focused on the machine, turning his attention to the haunting thoughts. ' within a minute from now, something will happen.. '

poor andrew had nearly shocked himself over four times, driven out of focus as he worried about (name). what if they were hurt? did something wrong happen? with their vulnerable vaulting abilities, andrew's mind persisted on panicking and he could not calm down for a moment. everything was in shambles. he could not and did not stop worrying until he came to support you.

but after he saw you in safe hands, completely managing just fine, he was ... still worried. no, he will never stop worrying until you are both out of the match --- what if something can go wrong at any moment?

hence why he immediately rushed to heal you all up as soon as three ciphers announced completion; the hunter was right there beside you, distracted by a nearby batter, but did it matter? to andrew, no. he mentally thanked ganji for being there, for threatening the hunter must they ever picked you up.

in panicked breaths, andrew could not control his shaking fingers as he guided you up from your position. he nearly held your arm too hard, almost snatched you towards him, eager to leave the scene while the opportunity was still there. andrew couldn't even talk as he did. his thoughts were filled with your outstanding performance, and the desperate need to leave the area and keep you safe.

guiding your shaky footsteps, andrew directed the both of you to a less dangerous area where he muttered,

' you... you did very well, (name). i.. i'm impressed, and .. quite relieved you are safe. a great job. '

(if you are close):

andrew may even, with his trembling hands, gently pat you or offer a sort of physical praise. maybe rub your back. considering you both know each other well, andrew is largely familiar with your self-depreciative thoughts and finds them a hindrance. they are false and troublesome, so before you could even doubt him, he would stop you.

' thank you, ' (name) would say. however, they were reluctant at andrew's words, unused to praise and, quite frankly, not believing them. ' .. but it wasn't really anything great -- '

andrew would shush them with a shake of his head, sighing with just the slightest bit of sternness. ' accept the words; you are a great one, and you did very, very well. i will not hear anything else out of you.. '

✧༺♥༻ WILLIAM ELLIS

filled with nothing but concern and the persistent urge to help, william has observed your strategies in kiting, realizing how often they remain short and rather chaotic. unlike edgar, he doesn't perceive your short-kiting abilities as a thing that brings the team down. rather, he believes that, as a team, he and the others should help you --- that's what a team is.

the cipher machine rattled as william decoded. when the match had begun, he had already prepared himself as soon as the hunter chose to pursue you first. terrorshocked and seated too early? he will come to rescue. ballooned at a safe distance? he will get you out of there. william is alert and ready to offer assistance whenever you needed it.

however, no call from you arrived. you had not yelled for his help or another teammate's, and you were holding for an incredibly long time. william waited on, on, and on, and soon, his cipher along with two others have finished. it does not take him a while to understand what was going on.

to say that this man was STUNNED is an understatement. he is very surprised at the consistency in which you've held the hunter at bay for. from a distance, he could see you pulling your little moves, doing the little left and right --- he is awed. and proud. very, very proud of you and your accomplishment.

william went through a joy of his own at seeing you succeed --- look at you go!

.. the reward for your kite was william. william and william as he nursed you back to good health with norton distracting the hunter some steps afar.

' holy, (name), ' william would laugh, roughly patting (name) on the back, making them cough as he cheered them on during healing; ' (naaaaammmeeeeee)!!!! ha ha ! '

he was so , so happy for you.

' thank you, william-- '

' yeah, i don't know why you talk so bad about yourself. those sad eyes, the pout everytime you quickly get downed --- stop doing those. you're great in a way that you can't see, ' he demanded, ' it's unacceptable, got it? '

' what- '

' this was a development, (name). i always knew you had a knack for something hidden in there. you're amazing, and you'll keep that in your head, alright? '

' shhh - nonono, no bad little words- be quiet-! '

william couldn't stop bringing your victory up for the entire day. he was much too joyful for it!

✧༺♥༻

[yandere-wishes]

Heyy, this is another ambitious project I'm storing in the vault till this semester is over. So just think of this as "market research" for now.

BUT I want to do a little "movie theater" themed fic. So send in your favorite yandere tropes + character OR a movie + character. And I'll post them for "Movie Night". Keep in mind It'll mostly be short drabbles.

Fandoms to request from:

-`♡´- Genshin Impact

-`♡´-Honkai Star Rail

-`♡´-Zenless Zone Zero

-`♡´- Twisted Wonderland

-`♡´-Marvel

-`♡´-Batman

-`♡´-Dune

-`♡´-Star Wars (All)

-`♡´-Transformers (All)

-`♡´-Tokyo Revengers

-`♡´-Attack on Titan

-`♡´-Demon Slayer

-`♡´-Moriarty The Patriot

-`♡´-Jujutsu Kaisen

-`♡´- Bleach

-`♡´-Shuumatsu no Valkyrie

-`♡´-Barbie

-`♡´-JJBA

-`♡´-MHA