#500 word drabbles

[rebelwrites]

The 100 word drabbles are still open, I currently only have 1 left to write.

All you need to do is send in three words and I shall turn them into a 100 fic ❤️

I have also decided to do something new as well, I’m trying to get more of a balance with my business and dipping my toes back in the writing pool so we will now be doing 500 word drabbles to challenge me a little bit more.

The concept is the same, send in 3 words and I shall turn it into a 500 word fic.

Please note when sending in requests please state if it is for the 100 or 500 words and who you would like it written for.

I will take requests for:

Charles Leclerc (F1)

Jax Teller (SOA)

Clay Spenser (Seal Team)

I may open it up to more people in the future

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[motleyfam]

Dick forgets to eat sometimes.

Jason can’t fathom it—the entire concept is foreign to him. For as long as he can remember, food’s always been on his mind. If he wasn’t digging through dumpsters for it, he was squirreling away whole pieces of fruit and unopened granola bars the kids at school carelessly left on their trays, picking up gigs babysitting the neighbor brats for the complimentary PB&Js, sitting through two-hour fire & brimstone church sermons daydreaming about the fried chicken and potato salad that would come after. Jason’s gone hungry more times than he can count but never once has he simply forgotten to eat.

Bruce says it’s something with the way Dick’s brain is wired. It’s why he can’t sit still very long without his leg jittering, why he talks a mile a minute when he gets going on a topic, why his apartment always looks like a tornado went through it.

All Jason knows is that it’s five p.m. and he’s starving.

Except he isn’t—not really. He had a bowl of Cap’n Crunch in Dick’s kitchen just that morning, milk and all. Jason’s gone far longer on far less, so he doesn’t know why his stomach's complaining so much today, why his head feels achy and light, why that tiny biting pain in his middle won’t shut up. He’s been living at the Manor for four months now and he’s already gone soft.

They’re walking through Bludhaven Shopping Centre, Dick babbling on about the last obstacle of the indoor minigolf course they just finished. Jason tries to listen, but his heart is beating strangely fast and the only thought pulsing through his mind is food, food, food—

And then abruptly, he notices that Dick’s stopped walking. He’s looking at Jason, brow furrowed and lips moving as if asking a question, but Jason isn’t hearing anything because his hands are shaking and his breaths are coming out quick and gaspy and even though he’d been looking forward to hanging out with Dick for weeks now he suddenly wants nothing more than to be back in the Manor where the pantry’s always stocked and the fridge is full and he can breathe.

And then he blinks and he’s sitting at a sticky food court table, and Dick’s got a hand on his back, saying “in and out, nice and slow, that’s it” and Jason’s got tears welling up in his eyes which pisses him off because that’s stupid, he’s being stupid, only cats and babies cry because they missed lunch, and—

And then there’s a soft pretzel in a paper wrapper being nudged into his hand by a guilty-faced Dick with a murmur of “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking” and it makes Jason want to crawl into a hole and die because he can’t just be fucking normal about this.

But there’s honey mustard sauce to dip it in, and a Chipotle bowl soon after, and tomorrow he and Dick both eat all three meals.

[vladdyissues]

February will be here before we know it, and I was thinking

Pompep Daily Kiss Challenge?

Just... daily kiss drawings. I need the practice, and what better month than February? It's only 28 days. Doesn't have to be fully rendered artwork. Maybe even extend this to other DP characters and ships? Like College Trio, Bitterly Broken, Cheese Melt, etc. Any kind of kisses: forehead kisses, cheek kisses, thigh kisses, parental kisses, chef's kisses, just—kisses. 𝒫𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁'𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓇.

[lire-casander]

@neurodivergent-fangirling, i hope you like this little sequel to wild!

ribs

It’s a strange feeling what settles in Charles’s ribs as he withdraws from their celebratory embrace after they’re told they’re finally safe from the afterlives they dread. Its him square where his heart would be beating.

It's fluttery, as though a million butterflies had found their home in between his ribs, sliding against his incorporeal frame and making him feel dizzy with their movement.

It’s not something he has never felt before, but it’s definitely stronger than anything he’s experienced before. And Charles suspects what it is, because he’s not a fool despite his goofiness.

Knowing its name only makes it more real, and it scares Charles shitless.

He’s been trying to mend his relationship with Edwin ever since that night at Point No Point, when Charles had force-fed the Night Nurse to Angie in a bout of anger and grief. Back then, he’d rejected Edwin’s touch—something he knows Edwin doesn’t give as freely as Charles does—and in doing so he’d hurt Edwin’s feelings. Even though Edwin had later assured him that everything was mint between them, Charles knew better. He knew Edwin would close off, shrugging that incident like he usually did when he felt he wasn’t enough.

Edwin shouldn’t feel like he isn’t enough, because he is. He is the sun and the moon and the stars and the clouds and the whole rainbow.

Charles is so, so fucked.

He hadn’t realized that the feeling sinking in his gut whenever Edwin had been away with Monty—or talking about Monty—had been jealousy all along. Charles had only admitted it to himself after Edwin had confessed about liking boys, right before anger had taken the place of jealousy when he’d learned about the Cat King’s shenanigans.

Charles had almost lost Edwin to Hell, then. He’d begged the Night Nurse to be sent down there, he’d managed to rescue Edwin from that abominable spider, and then he’d mucked it all up by not reciprocating Edwin’s words on those stairs.

The thing is, he didn’t reciprocate the words, because back then he couldn’t label what he felt, but that didn’t mean he didn’t reciprocate the feelings.

And now, as they settle back to their routine in London—free from Hell and Death—Charles has discovered that he is very much in love with his best mate.

The butterflies underneath his ribs flutter wildly as he watches Edwin exhale in relief, taking a step away from him to sit at the desk. The lines marring Edwin’s forehead as of lately—the ones Charles has wanted to kiss away for some time now—have disappeared. He looks up at Charles with a soft smile, and then it dawns on Charles.

They could have been everything. But, because of him, Edwin thinks they will never be more than just friends.

The butterflies still, and Charles makes a silent vow to himself. He’s going to prove to Edwin that they’re destined to something much bigger than friendship.

They are destined to forever.

send me a one-word prompt from this list by @dbda25!

[naivegh0ul]

LOOOVE how you write about riling up riley by being stoic but me personally, i dont think i could get through a minute being all lackluster because i WILL cry the second he stuffs me up. his size plus my sensitivity, i know he'd be heady with his triumph, being cocky and bullying himself balls deeper. GRAAAAH i need this man biblically,, was wondering how would you put it when he finally sees he's broken you in (again)

Oh my god he is such a bully when it comes to your sensitivity, always mocking you and teasing you about it. He knows you're just trying to rile him up when you act all nonchalant and unaffected when really you're struggling to control yourself.

I say again, he is a bully. Don't even try to play with him longer than five minutes. You're ignoring him for longer than he likes? Well, now you're being flipped onto your front and pushed into the couch cushions, face buried in the pillows as Ghost almost tears your clothes off. He's so mean about it, mocking you and manhandling you as you try your best to ignore him and seem like you're bored.

He's not nice when he's pent up, that much is obvious. He does not care if you cry or try to squirm away. He'll finger you ruthlessly, tutting when you make no noise and crooking his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Once he gets bored of fingering you (which takes a long, long time), he'll force you to pleasure him, knowing you can never keep your cool doing that. Just the sight of you on your knees before him has him smirking and his cock twitching. You're avoiding eye contact as you pick at your nails and act bored, huffing as if you're annoyed.

Ghost can see right through you, though. Knows it's all an act, that his pretty little thing could never get bored of him.

He'd make you unzip his jeans and unbuckle his belt, saying the most filthy things down to you. "Fuckin' slut. Gaggin' for it. Come on, open your mouth." You try to act bratty, seeming to come to the conclusion that seeming bored and ignoring Ghost is not the way to go, so maybe being bratty and uncooperative is better.

Ghost has been here before, you being bratty and refusing to do what he says. He's broken you in before, he'll do it again. He'd totally slap your face to get your attention, his big, calloused palm connecting with your cheek.

Yeah, he knows you love it when he slaps you. He knows you love it when he takes control and doesn't put up with your bullshit. And you know he's the type of guy who'll shove his cock down your throat. He doesn't care if your teeth drag along his sensitive shaft. He wants his cock in your throat and he wants it now.

He loves seeing you cry on his cock. He knows you're needy and desperate and the act of having his thick cock stretching your mouth, cutting off your airways is enough to make overwhelmed tears spill down your cheeks.

And if that's not bad enough, he'll pinch your nose shut and watch you panic, watch your eyes widen as you grip his thighs and try to pull away, throat contracting around his cockhead as you choke.

He wants you to be nice and pliant for him so he'll let you pull off and take a breath for a second before he's gripping your hair and stuffing his cock into your mouth, holding you there until you go limp and gently suckle on his cock, accepting the fact that fighting him won't do you any good.

[siggyhunt]

Imagine it. You're out on the town late one night, just fucking around. You go into a club, going to the bar and picking up drinks, flirting with the gorgeous gals around you. It's open mic night, and people have been going up to sing during breaks of the clubs music.

You go out to the dance floor, bust a move, then go back to your table to rest during the breaks. You're having fun, even if none of the girls stay, and you relax, taking a sip of your drink as some rando goes up to the mic. You don't pay them any mind at first, your eyes scanning the bar, but then you hear it.

The most beautiful voice you've ever heard, being backed up by a ukulele.

You snap your head over, and you see up on the stage, singing into the mic, the most beautiful women you've ever seen. Not only is she beautiful, but her voice is hypnotic, and you can't help but stare. She keeps singing, and playing her ukulele, gaze wandering over the crowd, before she locks eyes with you, and the way her eyes sparkle as she notices you watching her, makes you feel like heaven. You smile at her, it being softer than you normally would, yet no less flirty, and she smiles back, grin wider than it had been before, and you feel like you could fall in love.

You keep watching her play, and she keeps watching you, and it feels like it's just the two of you, despite the large crowd. As she finishes up, you stand, quickly running to the stage to meet her, not wanting her to slip away. You pause before you walk up to her, fixing your hair and catching your breath, smoothest smile you can make on your face, and you walk up to her and ask for a dance, the clubs music picking back up. She giggles, making you feel like you're flying, and she takes your hand, pulling you to the dance floor.

You've always called yourself the Disco King, and you're not about to stop, but it seems miniscule in comparison to her. She moves like water, dancing the night away, and you smile. If you're the Disco King, than she is a Goddess.

The two of you keep dancing, and during the break you take her back to your table, and you just talk. Usually you'd just flirt, and you still do, but it's different. Deeper connection than you're used to. You take her hand, the softness overwhelming, and you press a kiss to her knuckles, if only to hear her giggle again. She looks at the time and sighs, smile turning sad, and she stands to leave. You scramble, not wanting this to end so soon, and you beg for her number. Her smile brightens, and she's pulls a pen out from somewhere, writing it down on a napkin, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before walking away.

You sigh, and look at the name written with the number. Grace. How fitting.

[thewormofyourdreams]

to all carat writers on tumblr,

i need yall to stop writing cute, slice-of-life imagines/drabbles of svt members where they're married and/or acting domestic.

that 400 words drabble affects me more than a 15k angst i had to take a breather or I'll imagine my life living with them and trust that we DON'T want that.

sincerely,

im losing my grip on reality.

[theweirdestroller]

Squirrels

Enjoy a quick lil fic for KOBD. It's been a while since I've actually written these two outside of notes and stuff.

Energon scouting was a long and boring affair. Necessary, but Knockout dreaded it every time he was chosen. The only thing that made this grueling task remotely better was that he was paired off with Breakdown more often than not. Not only could the two of them afford to have a bit more fun, but Breakdown tended to make everything more enjoyable.

This time, the two had been sent to the western mountains of some human continent. Whichever one they frequented most. An awfully boring, dusty place. The temperature was... Acceptable. Breakdown was enjoying it immensely. The road were unfortunately windy. Not a straightaway in sight. That didn't stop Knockout from testing his (and by extent, Breakdown's) speedometer. There was, of course, a level of cautiousness for his finish. But aside from that, the driving was wholly reckless. With some exceptions to keep Breakdown in view. Knockout would feel far too guilty if he left his conjunx behind.

It was all fun and games and speed. The roar of engines and the wind whipping past until-

"KNOCKOUT! STOP!" Knockout felt his braking system kick in. It was far faster, and far superior, to anything he'd seen on Earthen vehicles. But it wore on his tires and he felt the sudden stop throughout his entire frame. But he stopped. Breakdown slowly pulled up beside him.

"Breakdown, what-" The Stunticon transformed and carefully scooped something up from the road in front of Knockout. 

"Ya almost hit it," Breakdown kept his servos cupped around... Something. Knockout transformed and approached his partner. He was more than curious to see what warranted his sudden stop. Breakdown lowered his servos and showed Knockout the tiny furry thing nestled there.

"Breakdown... What in the pit is that?!" The medic, apparently squeamish to this thing, took a hasty step back.

"It's a squirrel," Breakdown practically cooed the words. He gently set the creature down on the other side of the road, watching as in bounded off into the forest. "I like 'em. Earth animals are... They're soft," Knockout hummed.

"I suppose I can keep an optic out"

The two transformed again and started driving, this time, much slower.

Knockout felt the urge to speed up, whip around the corners, feel the wind through his plating. But. They encountered another one of those things. And Knockout was glad he saw it and stopped in time. Because Breakdown was so happy. His entire frame displayed his joy at watching the tiny creature scamper around. It spent a minute or so on the road before running off, letting the duo continue their mission.

--

They did find energon, in the end. And they were on their way to the pick up zone. (Why no one could just open the spacebridge closer was beyond Knockout) When they came across one final squirrel. It stopped in the road completely. Which forced Breakdown to transform and pick it up.

Knockout watched his conjunx hold the little thing. Talk to it as well. Pet its little head. Breakdown was more than delicate with it. And then he deposited it on the side of the road.

Maybe Earth's strange animals weren't so bad. Not if they made Breakdown smile like that.

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[leashybebes]

me: yeah, giving myself a specific word limit for a series of minifics will be a GREAT idea, this will be FUN

also me: is the wordiest motherfucker alive

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

CONGRATS ON HUNDRED DOVE!! you sent me a risqué ask for 100 so now i do it back to ye-

"caught in the rain" with leona :D or ruggie, if someone got to him first! ehehehehehehhehehehe you can see stuff 😳👀 for free ✨✨✨

btw your ask is sending me so hard but i'm already typing out so much for leona so your ask is gonna be the last one for the event lol

Caught in the Rain; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader needs to get bonked with a stick (/j)

Content Warning; Swearing

Word Count; 700+

AN; Don't expose my ass on my own blog, Soru /j. (just trying to feed your own simping along with the simps) But I hope you enjoy what I wrote for Leona and this prompt! As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The sky lay heavy with dark clouds, the smell of rain thick in the air, yet not a single drop had yet to strike the ground. The air was dense with humidity, warm from the harsh sun’s rays from earlier in the day. But yet, you found yourself outside, trying to find Leona.

He had invited you to spend your summer break as his guest in the palace. Well, less so 'invited', more so demanded.

“Do you have anywhere else to be, herbivore? I thought as much. Come on, you’re staying with me.”

You still don’t really know why, but you weren’t going to throw away the chance of staying someplace beyond nice for the summer… plus Leona wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. Yes, he puts on an act of not caring, and being abrasive, but you knew that he cared, that he worried. Also, the two of you had been having this back-and-forth banter for months; blurring the lines of just friends bickering and something... more. But neither of you had made a move. It just hung in the air between you, nearly as suffocating as the humidity now; potent with the possibility of a massive storm.

Back to the present though. You were on the outskirts of the palace, looking for wherever Leona had decided to take a nap for this afternoon.

“Leona,” you called, but all you heard in return was the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Where is that overgrown house cat? I swear if I get caught in a downpour because of him… “LEONA!”

The first drops of rain began to fall, gentle and sparse. But you knew full well that in a few minutes' time they would be falling hard and fast.

“LEONA KINGSCHOLAR?!” You shouted at the top of your lungs.

You heard an annoyed huff of air off to your left, and looking up you saw none other than Leona lounging in the low-hanging branches of a tree.

“Ya don’t need to yell, ya know,” he sighed, landing softly on the ground. He looked up to the sky and frowned before setting a slow pace back to the palace. “Are you coming or what, herbivore?”

You followed after him, catching up so the both of you were going at a comfortable pace. Thunder was still rumbling, and the rain was slowly picking up, but there was no rush. Well, there wasn’t any rush until there was a flash of lightning and it seemed like the entire sky’s worth of water came down all at once on the both of you.

“Shit,” Leona hissed and guided the both of you to the relative cover of a tree to wait out the worst of the monsoon. “Just our luc-” He stopped talking when he looked at you though.

You were spitting out some stray rainwater that had managed to get into your mouth. But once the intruding water was gone you looked over to him but you felt your eyes lock on his torso; the white shirt that he was wearing was now completely see-through and you could see everything. Stop staring! Damn though- STOP STARING! But your eyes refused to move.

Leona noticed this, and he also took in your drenched appearance but was more subtle with it. “Tch,” he tapped you on the nose, breaking you of your staring stupor. “My eyes are up here,” his voice was teasing though, light.

You snapped out of it, catching his mirthful eyes. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper. You felt your face grow warm at the slip of your tongue, but it was true. Even before you openly ogled at him, you always thought that, but never said it to his face.

Leona chuffed, but he didn’t say anything; neither denying or accepting your statement. “You aren’t half bad yourself,” he said softly.

The two of you sat underneath the tree, still in your soaked clothes, watching the rain fall together in a comfortable quiet. And while the first golden rays of sunlight may have been stunning, the both of you thought it was nothing when compared to the captor of your hearts; each other.

After all, you still had the rest of the summer to build on this new development.

[prettydaisygirl]

I’m thinking about doing a little celebration when I get to 500 followers… would anyone be into that?

🌸🤔🌸🫣

[lire-casander]

if no one else will ask for it, i will

kinky

i'm sorry if this is bad. i am not known for writing anything over teen, and i always think my mature and explicit writing is bad. the general idea of the fic comes from the dbda haunted server.

kinky

Charles doesn’t know how they’ve ended in this predicament—his hands rubbing circles on Edwin’s back—but here they are, half-way through a massage class for couples.

Objectively, Charles knows the reasons why they’ve infiltrated in this class. The clues to the new case they’re working on have led them to this building in Waterloo, and they couldn’t really investigate while incorporeal, so Charles has had to work on some of his disguise magic. Right now, they’re impersonating a couple in their late twenties—Charles as the boyfriend, Edwin as the girlfriend, as always.

The shiver creeping up his spine as he presses into Edwin’s back is not objective.

The silence of the class is only broken by the soft voice of the instructor, giving some directions as to where to put hands and how much pressure to apply. Charles is trying hard to focus, but he’s encountering a bit of a problem here.

Edwin is very still and quiet beneath Charles. It irks him somehow; he knows Edwin doesn’t like to be touched, so Charles has the feeling that Edwin is deeply uncomfortable underneath Charles’s fingers.

And here comes the truth between the lies Charles has been telling himself lately.

He’s enjoying having Edwin underneath him. He feels it in a way he didn’t when he’d been with Crystal. And yet, he thinks he’d be enjoying this situation a whole lot more if he was massaging Edwin’s back instead of this human disguise.

Charles has always thought he was straight. He’s only ever been with women, even in his afterlife—not that he’s been a player, but he’s had some flings in the past three decades. None of them had felt as fulfilling as massaging Edwin’s back is.

He finds himself daydreaming about the noises he could elicit from Edwin if they were in a different situation—if they were alone in their office, if Edwin was in his ghostly form, if Charles could touch Edwin in the way he’s been longing to.

If he’s being honest with himself, Edwin confessing to his feelings on that staircase in Hell had stirred some dormant emotions Charles hadn’t been ready to face back then. Not that he’s ready now, but he’s beginning to think that his body—corporeal or not—will take the lead in figuring out what his unbeating heart wants. Charles takes a subtle step back for fear the situation below his waist might be noticeable.

He hadn’t expected to figure out his true feelings for Edwin while giving him a backrub, but Charles guesses it’s just his luck—and it fits their dynamics. He’s always been the last one to ever notice important things, be it a problem with a client or his own feelings. Edwin has always known first.

Charles knows what he must do—he needs to talk to Edwin, come clear about his feelings—but for now he does the only thing he can think of, being a teenage dead boy.

He enjoys the ride.

send me a one-prompt from this list by @dbda25!

[constellationmetropole]

*hits diluc ragnvindr with the transgender beam*

word count: 367

The skirt in Diluc’s hand’s feels like a heavy burden. It shouldn’t- long though it may be, it’s built for wear during the hottest months of the year, and yet. Her hand trembles as she thumbs over the stitching.

The hotel room is sparsely decorated, it’s lone mirror small enough that Diluc has to stand back a few steps to see herself fully. It’s a miracle that she was even able to afford this place (and that the owner hadn’t spared a second glance at her blood-stained bag). Unfurling the skirt to it’s full length, she holds it up against her waist, heart in her throat. It’s made of a dark navy blue material, Fontainian in style, and looks to fall just below her knees. (she can’t look at it in the mirror, not yet, not yet-).

She has never worn a skirt before. She hadn’t even realised that she was allowed, not until she kept getting called “Miss!” while in the markets of Fontaine, and found herself stopping in front of the boutiques, eyeing the beautiful dresses in the window. And now she has one of her own. She wouldn’t normally take much more than Mora and food from the Fatui camps she raids but it had been hung out haphazardly to dry, and Diluc had stowed it away in her bag with the rest of her supplies.

“No one has to see,” she whispers to herself. “This is just for me. No one else.” She swallows down her anxiety, shimmying into it and tucking her shirt into the waistband. It’s slightly too large for her, so after a moment’s consideration, she grabs her belt, securing it over the waistband so it won’t fall down when she finally let’s go.

It’s feels... nice. The fabric is light and airy, swishing around her legs with each movement. She turns to examine herself in the mirror and-

Ah.

There she is.

She looks half-dressed in only a skirt and button up, and the belt clashes horribly, and there’s a stray blood stain on her cheek, but. For the first time in a very long time, Diluc sees the person in the mirror, and goes “Oh. There I am.”

[siggyhunt]

Okay, so. Petey and Li'l Petey are living with Dogman. Every so often, like once a week or so, Dogman goes out, making an excuse that he's needed at work or something. It's bullshit, and it's obvious, because he's wearing a big 'ol trenchcoat, and doesn't drive his cop car (I like to headcanon that he has a normal car, he just doesn't use it often.) Anyways, Petey gets jealous- curious. Is he going on dates? Not like he cares or anything... But. Anyways. One night he follows Dogman, and they end up going to a classy-but old-bar on the far side of town.

"Oh, he's just going out for drinks, with friends maybe. Because he has a human liver that can do that now, I guess? Don't know why he went all this way just for a pint though, and this place seems expensive. We'll, whatever. I'll just go in and ask."

So, Petey walks in, putting on some fancy~ clothes he brought, just in case because he's like that, and it's just a normal mid-high society club, jazz band playing up on the stage. He walks around for a bit, looking for Dogman, but doesn't see him, so he goes to the bar and gets a glass, waiting to see when he'll show up. The jazz band on the stage has paused for a moment, and the curtains close. The lights in the building dim slightly, and a spotlight shines on stage, announcer walking in front of the curtains.

"Well, thank you folks for coming out tonight, it has been a pleasure seeing all of your lovely faces. And thank you to The Round Table for playing for us tonight, your music has been enjoyable as always, and we'll continue loving it for our next act. But I know what you're all waiting for, so I won't keep you waiting any longer from our main show tonight. So, put your hands and paws together for our favorite Knight of The Round Table, Gregory!"

Curtains open, and the jazz band that had been playing stand there, but with the added bonus of a grand piano. Just when Petey thinks he knows what's going on, because

"Oh, Dogman goes out some nights to listen to his favorite band, obviously," and gets ready to leave, having answered his questions for now, DOGMAN walks out on stage, big smile on his face, and sits by the piano. He's in a nice suit, which was covered by the trenchcoat, and he looks like just another anthropomorphic dog, all of his skin covered, with the added bonus of a white collar around his neck, a small box attached to the front. "Oh shit, right. Dogman's real name is Greg, how could I forget that." Petey thinks, trying to distract himself from the shock of Dogman just. Leaving in the middle of the night to play piano? He already plays for the nursing home, what is he doing? And just when Petey thought it couldn't get any weirder, Dogma- Greg starts to sing. And his singing is ethereal.