#prompt: “I've got you”

[rockingrobin69]

Seriously, though

“Here,” with a giant heave, “just a little—c’mon, Potter,” pulling the arm slung around Draco’s shoulder tighter. “It’s just a bit further, you twat.”

Potter’s smile was smeared all across his face, unbearable at such a close distance. “You’re so strong,” he said, twattily. Draco resisted the urge to push him off.

“You’re making it so much harder than,” short on breath for laughing. “Come on, you big lug. There’s a warm bed waiting for you just the other side of this corridor.”

“How do you know it’s warm?” Potter asked. “Did you try it?”

“Of course. Nothing but the best at Chez Malfoy. See, if you were a normal house guest and not a silly goose—”

“Am not a goose,” indignantly. “Silly, maybe.”

Draco stopped them both halfway through the corridor. “Maybe?”

“Maybe. I’ll give you somewhat silly, on occasion.”

Eyebrow hiking: “On occasion.”

“And only somewhat.”

This grin-thing his face was trying to pull was achey around the corners. “You mean,” Draco said, “that cursing yourself with jelly-legs and getting your own flat flooded with patchouli was not an entirely silly thing to do. Only somewhat silly.”

“Certainly an occasion,” Potter said, and his eyes sparkled. “Thanks for having me, by the way.”

“Oh, sure. What else could one do when the Chosen Git wakes them up in the middle of the night in uproarious fits of laughter? It’s no problem, I mean,” when the smile on Potter’s face dimmed. “I’m happy to have you here. As long as you need.”

They both swallowed at the same time. It was quiet, middle of the night, just them here. Holding each other and standing very close. In his house coat, and his red-red cheeks, Draco felt miserably naked, too obvious.

Then Potter’s legs started twitching again, and he started laughing, again, this helpless, raw sound, and Draco was helpless too. To it, to him. With his shoulders and colourful socks and the strands of his hair that kept catching his eye.

“Here,” Draco realised he was saying, only after he brushed a few of those away. Gulped loudly. “Let’s—come on, let’s get you to that blasted bedroom.”

Potter echoed his swallow. His nervousness, for some reason. “What’s that door over there?” pointing at the nearest one.

“That one’s mine.”

“Oh.” Sucking in his bottom lip in a truly unfair display. “What if,” he started, shook his head, nodded, “wouldn’t it be easier if—”

“I’m not giving you my bed,” Draco heard himself say with pure shock, instead of, for example, “yes, of course, anything you’d like, forever actually.”

“I’m not asking you to, git. I meant, maybe we could share.”

“Share…” comprehension, rather than dawning, sank. “Share my bed?”

“God, you can be so thick,” and why did Potter sound fond? “Had to curse my own legs and still you continue to—”

“I’m the thick one, when you cursed your—wait, what?”

“Will you just,” laughing, “Malfoy, shut up, for the love of god, and take me to bed already?”

His heart splattered against his ribcage. “Take you to bed. Yes, I can do that.”

To the… guestroom, right? That’s what they were talking about.

“Malfoy,” again in that inexplicable tone, the one that went soft and low instead of—instead—“I was serious. About sharing. I’ve been serious about if for quite some time.”

The heat in his cheeks and the frenzy in his chest: “Yes?” meaning, really? Meaning, me?

“Yes.”

Melting a little, “It is closer. My bed, I mean. And, the sheets are clean.”

“Always prepared at Chez Malfoy.”

“Shut up, you absolute goose.” Nearly brave enough for a smile, tilting his head towards his room. Bursting when Potter, eyes twinkling, nodded.

He was taking the silly goose to bed. How… fortunate, really, that he opened the door. That Potter’s legs were still dancing, that the other, nearer guestroom for some reason didn’t come to mind. That Potter was serious, he said, had been for a while now, and that Draco was too, entirely too serious for him. Almost too serious to laugh when Potter’s right foot sent in a truly spectacular jig: almost.

They laughed together. Twats. Even the bedroom door laughed with them as it closed. Then the hinges of the bed as they gingerly climbed on. Then the birds in the morning, when they woke up, still holding each other’s hand.

(Hi, so, I might be doing a bit of flufftober? Grab a link to AO3 if you want to keep up with the sporadic posting schedule. Love and soft to us all).

Freely Given and Entirely True - Robin's 2023 flufftober collection

[whump-in-the-closet]

weak in the knees for situations where a stoic whumpee allows someone to help them. they don't say a word of acceptance but they don't protest either. Too injured to say no and too tired to deny they need it. Just grudgingly letting a gentle hand guide them to a bed or to wrap a wound. Then a quiet, "thank you." in between sharp breathing as they try not to break down in front of someone else. Love love love shielded vulnerability

[ailithnight]

DPxDC Prompt #8

Danny was practicing shapeshifting with Amorpho when he felt the tug of a summoning and heard the distant words drifting into his mind.

Normally Danny would just ignore it. Or if it seems like this was a group that needed some sense scared into them, he'd shift into his Horror form and terrify them into never pulling this shit again. But then he heard them mention live sacrifices, and Danny just had to step in before that happened. So he let the summoning pull him on through, briefly forgetting he was shapeshifted into a... less than ideal form.

Danny lands in the circle right on top of one of the intended sacrifices, a group of people in weird outfits and, is that guy green? Irrelevant. Immediately Danny on knows something is very wrong. His powers feel muted and far away. His form suddenly feels, locked somehow.

He casts his gaze across the summoning circle and, to his horror, recognizes the binding ritual. These cultists wanted to bind and seal him in one of these mortal's bodies after they were sacrificed. But they fucked up the spell. Or maybe Danny fucked it up by coming in too soon? Irrelevant again.

What matters is the spell went sideways. Instead of locking Danny into one of the sacrifice's bodies, it locked him into his own form while pulling most of his abilities just out of reach. Now he's here. In the shape of- He's stuck as-

"Dude, is that a pigeon? Did the Ghost King, like, send you to voicemail?"

[starcatching]

bangtan gif challenge ☆ ↳ stage mix (one song) + your bias → fake love stages & jin

[leclerity]

stupid gets you killed

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you have an emotional conversation after his reckless driving at a race. a/n: a short but angsty one, with a happy ending!

It could’ve been the end.

The way it felt, it almost was.

You watch as the red of the Ferrari and the green of the Aston Martin come close, inches apart, with Stroll nearly putting it in the back of your boyfriend’s car. Everyone around you gasps and for a split second, you see them touch and Charles’s car fly off into the grandstands – but that doesn’t happen. They don’t touch. Charles drives away unscathed, though you know that won’t be the end of it.

“That was too close,” says Arthur, shaking his head at the screen.

“He won’t like this too much,” you say and grab a pair of headphones lying around, listening in.

Everything is okay with the car, Bryan Bozzi says.

That was not okay! Charles screams. Who does he think he is?! Driving like an idiot… He should know better!

Keep your head calm, you’ve got forty laps to go.

You take off the headphones and tell Arthur what you just overheard. He shakes his head again, but you both know there’s nothing the two of you can do about it. Charles has been under pressure, ready to burst at any given moment, running second in the championship with maybe—maybe—a chance at something more. Anything that threatens it… Well, it throws him off.

You’re just waiting for the moment it happens.

The race keeps running, you listen in to the radio every so often, and his complaints and agitation are getting more obvious. He’s driving riskier, not caring enough about tyre management, and there’s a few moments when his car gets a little too close to another car.

He finishes in fourth. It’s not where he wanted to be but it’s better than out of the race, you tell yourself. There was a few moments where you held your breath, waiting to see if the anger is going to slip into careless mistakes, and it made you angry. Your boyfriend is better than this.

When he finishes the race, you run straight into his arms. “You did so well! I’m proud of you.”

“I could’ve done better,” he says.

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again. “Next time.”

Charles kisses you, too, before going to speak to others in the garage, keeping one eye on you at all times. You know he’s being hard on himself, but you see his clenched jaw, sunken shoulders, and you know this is going to be a tougher one than usual.

He’s in your orbit the most of the evening, glancing at you even when he’s in the media pen. You can hear some of the questions he’s being asked and a lot of them are about the incident and about his dangerous driving he nearly got a penalty for, and you can already hear the regret in his voice. He looks at you every time it comes up, as if he already knows how much it upset you.

At your side, Arthur gives you a nudge. “Are you going to talk some sense into him when you’re back at the hotel?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“That was scary.”

You nod. “Too scary. I get the pressure and all, but…”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, “I don’t want to feel like I might lose my brother because he’s being angry and stupid.”

When you get home, you get dinner – he does the perfunctory celebrations and goes back to the hotel, where you’re waiting with him with your guys’ favourite takeaway. He had some time to hang out with the other drivers and now it’s time to hang out with you… But not before you give him a piece of mind.

He knows something’s wrong the moment he enters the hotel room.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you say.

He frowns. “Okay. You sure?”

You give him a long look.

Charles sits down next to you, looking exhausted but ready to devour the food – but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits with his elbows on his knees, hands held together. “It’s the race.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s why you’re giving me attitude.”

“Mhm.”

“Is it because of the Stroll incident?”

You shake your head. He should know better and he does, it will just take him a moment.

He sighs and leans into the couch, a defeated look on his face. “I should’ve handled it better, right?”

“Yeah.” You put a hand on his thigh. “Driving like that, Charles… You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I would’ve been fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Babe—”

“Don’t babe me,” you say, shaking your head. “You got angry and…. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed.”

Charles opens his mouth and closes it, knowing fair well that there’s nothing he could say in his defence that would make you change your mind. He sees it all on your face, you know it – the terror you’d gone through waiting to see if his anger will make him slip up, make a mistake; the threat of losing him.

He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, before placing it on his chest, right where his heart is. “Y/N,” he says, gently. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“It frightens me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just—The thought of you—”

“I know. C’mere.”

Charles gives your hand a gentle tug and then your head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you warm and safe. “I’m sorry for scaring you. My job is scary, but I shouldn’t make it any more difficult than it already is.”

He kisses the top of your head and you feel a few tears escaping down your cheeks, and he holds you even tighter.

“I’ll be less angry next time, I promise,” he whispers. “Less stupid. For you. Okay?”

You nod instead of answering, and he pulls your chin up with a gentle finger, and then he’s wiping your tears and kissing you gently, promising over and over again to never make you feel like that again – and he doesn’t.

[mischievous-thunder]

*At a Club*

Wade: Oooh let's dance some more, Lo Lo Bear! Go big or go home!

Logan, who's been dancing with Wade for an hour and is exhausted: You mean, if I don't go big anymore, I get to go home?

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[faynke]

Kid Killer actually kills Kid

Happy Holidays everyone!! Here is my piece for the @dcmkkaishinevents for @miss-emotion

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭

[cementcornfield]

Joe on not only Ja'Marr's contract situation, but probably Tee and Trey's as well (oh and also there's dodgeball).

[starflungwaddledee]

rising from the grave to submit someone for the shipaganza event huehuehuehue

Daroach. I think they could have a pretty fun relationship, maybe Daroach could try and convince Starstruck to get into a bit of mischief with him and his gang, or maybe the flirtatious thief is just messing with her a bit to probably steal something only to actually fall for her

he sure knows how to spoil a gal

*✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ valentines shipaganza masterpost ✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ⋆˙⟡

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ggomos-maribat]

Tim Drake didn't particularly like the occult.

But Constantine said the two were their best bet against the demon uprising. The magic-user, howeover, refused to contact them himself, claiming that it was a bad idea to involve them, that they were better off dealing with the problem on their own than . . . outsourcing. Unfortunately, Tim (and the rest of the Batfamily really) was stubborn. If they had potential allies to help them, wouldn't it be worth to take the risk?

This mission to contact those people then dragged him to a downtown bar to talk to famous designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who he was ninety-five percent sure was one of the two Constantine was talking about.

Tim told himself that perhaps a little bit of sweet-talking would do. His hand inched closer to hers on the tabletop, but she immediately pulled away. "This night has been fun, Monsieur Drake." She smiled sweetly. "But I don't think my husband will appreciate me staying out late."

She showed him a glowing band on her finger, which Tim completely missed when they met. He, too, pulled away, cheeks turning pink. "Uhh, yeah, sorry 'bout that. Don't let me keep you."

Although Marinette had slipped out, he still had a mission to do.

He decided to follow her.

He knew of her potential danger, signified by the fact that she was walking on a dark, deserted, Gotham street by herself. He held his breath when she stopped right below a flickering lamppost.

She turned around, plump red lips stretching into a sinister smile. "That's quite sneaky of you, Monsieur Drake. Why don't you be direct with what you want, hm?"

And he took a step out of the shadows, dropping his act. "We need your help."

"Who told you about me?"

". . . John Constantine."

Her nose wrinkled. "That soul-whore? Figures."

Tim definitely didn't show it, but the way she stood, her mere presence was unnerving like a beast waiting to pounce. But at the same time, she was so unfairly beautiful even in the darkness.

Marinette smoothed down her hair. "What makes you think we're willing to help?"

Tim's eyebrows raised. "'We'?"

A sudden chill arrived with the wind, summoning goosebumps all over his skin. The lamp switched off in a blink, and when it turned on again, a shadow had appeared beside Marinette, which morphed into a human. Or at least he thought it was a human.

"Yes, 'we'," a new voice said. "She and her husband."

Fuck. The man was dressed in elegant clothes, a perfect match with his wife. His hair was slicked back but with strands softly falling on top of his ethereal eyes. Tim swore those were fangs under his pale lips, sharp like the gaze he was shooting at him. Both his deep blue eyes and Marinette's seemed to shine under the moonlight.

Tim was officially scared. He never did like the occult, but goddamn, the occult was causing his bi-panic.

[starry-bi-sky]

Dead on Main Childhood Friends Memes

Because now that I've gotten the hang of making au memes, i can't stop.

[kastillia]

[faytelumos]

I'm trying to write a thing (probably only in my head, let's be realistic) and so I have some thoughts?

Sunshine x Grumpy prompts

(specifically a dommy Sunshine and a subby Grumpy, but read/swap these as you will)

Meetings

- They physically bump into each other in the street. Sunshine is trying to gather up Grumpy's stuff and straighten them out, but Grumpy is just trying to get away from Sunshine's overpowering energy.

-> Then afterwards, Grumpy is the one who keeps thinking about the encounter.

- There are no rooms left in the hotel/inn. Sunshine overhears Grumpy all but begging for any kind of room at all, and offers to share theirs.

- Every day, Grumpy walks past Sunshine dancing in a slightly inconvenient place (like a sidewalk or in front of a coffee shop). Eventually, they start watching Sunshine briefly when they come across them. Then, Sunshine makes direct eye contact and motions for them to dance, too.

-> Grumpy may not dance with them, but maybe Sunshine decides to make it their life's mission to tease out the dance moves in Grumpy's heart.

- Grumpy notices Sunshine gently handling a disliked/misunderstood animal. They instantly wonder if Sunshine would be willing to handle them (disliked and misunderstood as they are) so gently.

- People generally assume Grumpy is cruel/brutish in a fight. But when Sunshine sees them being merciful and diplomatic in the face of conflict, their heart goes all aflutter. They must not let this wonderful person slip through their fingers.

Acquaintances to Friends/Lovers

- They know each other only in passing, and Grumpy assumes Sunshine to be a total ditz. But when a fight between strangers breaks out in a tight space, Sunshine rushes into the fray to break it up. (Maybe the sight of Sunshine being strong and capable does something to Grumpy.)

-> Alternatively, it could be an emergency/crisis that Grumpy or another stranger are having (such as choking on something, a severe allergic reaction, or an illness or injury taking a sudden turn for the worse).

- They work together, and Sunshine has been making their way around the workplace day by day, doing something happy and cheerful and everything for each person. Grumpy is dreading the day it's their turn.

*Relationship Intensifies*

- Sunshine is a terrible cook. Grumpy pulls out the apron and shows them a thing or two.

- Sunshine opens up about their dark past during a quiet moment. It is remarkably (even freakishly) similar to what Grumpy went through.

- Sunshine notices that while Grumpy's actions say, "Do not perceive me," their body language screams, "I need you specifically to hold me."

- Over the past few weeks/months, Sunshine and Grumpy have been spending more and more time together. Right as Grumpy starts to feel comfortable opening up, they realize… Sunshine actually doesn't talk about themself. Practically at all.

After Dark

- Grumpy is too nervous/self-conscious to initiate, even though being with Sunshine is all they've been thinking about for the past ten minutes.

-> Sunshine miraculously notices and treats Grumpy so sweetly that Grumpy almost breaks.

->-> Or they do break, and Sunshine's happy to pick up the pieces afterwards.

- Sunshine's "I'll get a smile out of you yet!" attitude shifting into "You're mine and no one will ever hurt you" when things get hot.

- Grumpy's "I refuse to burden people with my presence" attitude becoming "Please, I need every last piece of you" when things get going.

- Grumpy and Sunshine have to switch roles a little when Sunshine drops after they're together.