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bleedingoptimism · 10 months

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The night of the events of Starcourt, Steve lies about his parents being home because he doesn't want to impose on anyone else. So he says his parents are waiting for him back home and Joyce drops him off to get some rest.

Steve gets home and immediately realizes it's a horrible idea, he's concussed, confused, alone, scared, and in pain.

He panics and ends up walking through the woods alone where Wayne finds him when he's getting home from work.

Wayne freaks out over the injured sailor boy that looks like he hasn't slept in days and who is confused about how he got there.

He convinces Steve to come in for coffee, but when they get inside Steve starts looking around fascinated by every little trinket. he ends up in Eddie's room,

"Where am I?" he wonders and even through the questions and fears it makes Wayne chuckle,

"This is my nephew's room" He answers looking at Steve walk around with stars in his eyes at the mess.

"He must be really cool," he tells Wayne.

Wayne nods and smirks but then Steve catches his own reflection in the mirror,

"is that me? Jesus no wonder you look so worried, I look like shit"

And he says something that breaks Wayne's heart a little, "I'm sorry," and he looks so sad too, and so honest like he really thinks him not looking okay is a problem for Wayne. Like Wayne would get mad at him for not being 'presentable'.

"I should leave," Steve says.

Wayne raises his arms in mock surrender,

"Woah, no kid, it's fine, you don't look that bad, I was only worried because you look tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Steve thinks for a while and frowns, "I don't remember..."

"Why don't you rest here in this cool room," Wayne asks him with a kind smile, "and then will get that coffee, ok?"

Steve agrees and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

Wayne sighs and leaves the room, he sits on the couch and sees on the tv the news about the fire.

It's an explanation, not the whole truth but it's something. Clearly, Steve was there but that doesn't explain the bruises, the confusion, the fear. He feels like something else might be going on.

And why on gods earth was that kid all alone?

Eventually, he falls asleep too.

So when Eddie gets home from spending the night at Jeff's after a gig, he finds his uncle sleeping on the couch and doesn't find it weird at all, he tiptoes to his room for a change of clothes and there he finds the fucking former king of hawkings wearing the skimpiest sailor uniform sleeping on his bed, and for a second he thinks 'is it my birthday?' but then Steve turns in his sleep and Eddie sees his face and thinks 'shit'

He is instantly worried, no matter how much he dislikes jocks, no one deserves to be brutalized like that.

And to ruin that beautiful face? A crime.

Once more he tiptoes into the hallway and goes where his uncle is slowly waking up. He gets close, real close so when Wayne opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Eddie blinking at him.

Wayne jumps a little and bites back a curse, "Jesus kid!"

Eddie chuckles, "Sorry, Wayne. Might telling me about the little sailor in my bed?"

Wayne sighs and tells him.

When Steve wakes up a bit later is to the sound of Eddie's acoustic. He's sitting in his desk chair, plucking a sweet and soft melody,

"Morning goldilocks," he tells him with a smile.

Steve, who had a bunch of excuses and apologies lined up already frowns, and inclines his head, "Goldilocks?"

"I found you sleeping in my bed, didn't I?" Eddie answers sweetly.

Steve blushes, he can't help it, and once more instead of getting up and leaving he gets distracted by Eddie's whole deal.

"I'm not even blond" he argues.

Eddie bows his head at him, as if to say he got him there, but then says,

"You have locks of hair that look golden in the sun, goldilocks"

Steve really hopes the bruises cover his blush, he really, really hopes. But judging from Eddie's smile, he can't tell it's not the case.

"I should leave," he says moving slowly to the edge of the bed.

Eddie places his guitar on the desk and turns to fully look at him, "You don't have to. If you don't want to," he points to something on the bottom of the bed, "Look, clean clothes and my fluffiest towel, why don't you take a shower and then we drink that coffee my uncle promised?"

And Steve’s heart hurts with how much he wants that. He doesn't want to be alone, he wants to stay here with the kind wonderful man he met last night and Eddie, who played guitar for him while he slept and thinks his hair is golden, but still...

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose"

Eddie snorts and mouthes 'impose' to himself before leaning closer and looking Steve in the eyes,

"I'm sure, Goldie. Go, shower. I'll go put the kettle on"

And steve can't do much more than nod and smile shyly at him.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #i wrote something

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void-bitten-ghost · 4 months

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Modern Mizu hears you like a bit of 'danger and excitement' from one of your friends, so she takes you to an underground fighting ring for like, your fifth date. This is after the gun range fiasco, so you've already seen a side of Mizu that not many have been allowed to see.

When she mentions this idea you're like, so fucking excited but still kinda like??? There's one of these here????? Nearby????? Holy shit yes???? Please?????? That's so cool?????

She specifically avoids answering how she knows it exists. This isn't about her. This is about sharing an experience she loves and you've shown interest in.

She picks you up on her bike (because Of Course she would have a motorbike that's like either this hand-me-down or a fixer-upper she restored) and you go. It's exactly what you thought it would be, off vibes and dodgy people, but being with Mizu somehow makes you feel safe because she's confident. But it's not an arrogant kind of confidence, it's a steady, assured sort of confidence that puts you right at ease as she takes your hand and leads you through the crowd.

Now, something you don't know is this is not Mizu's stomping grounds. Not even close. But she knew it by name and reputation and it was close enough you could both make a night out of it rather than three. Although... she wouldn't mind if that were to happen--

She snaps back to reality when you step forward and holler out encouragement to the scrawnier one of the two currently in the ring. The corner of her mouth quirks at your enthusiasm, a brow lifting and a hip popping as she crosses her arms to just. Watch you. As you lose yourself to the energy of the room.

The match ends with the scrawny one getting his ass handed to him by the dude built like a brick shit-house. She expected as much. It takes a certain amount of skill to be able to take a mountain of a man like that down while having such a slight build. She'd know, after all.

Anyway. Everything is going swimmingly until some prick pushes his luck trying to get your attention. You very bluntly tell him he's barking up the wrong tree and he does not take the rejection well. Mizu tries to not intervene directly with your battles too often. You're a capable person, it's one of the things she lov- likes. Likes about you.

But then the burly fuck reaches for you. You smack his hand away and go to headbutt him. She grabs you by the waist before you could start the climb to reach and if you weren't so riled up you might have short circuited at the feel of her calloused hand on your skin.

"This bitch yours, mutt?" He grunts to Mizu, and you see fucking red.

"You fucking dare call her a mutt you jumped up little cun--"

"Yes," she says over you, calm as a still lake, and you do actually short circuit at Mizu calling you 'hers'. The heat of anger in you switches gears to something far sweeter, but no less scalding.

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't upset her," Mizu says, her fingers trailing to your hip and gripping a belt loop possessively. You can suddenly feel every point of contact. Hip, arm, chest...

That's when the man looks at Mizu. Really looks at her with a lean forward and squinted eyes, looking over her tinted shades.

"Onryo," he breathes, and you feel Mizu tense behind you. She hadn't heard that name for a good long while. It was a name from her troubled youth. One she thought was long behind her since going legit.

"You're a long way from home, demon."

"What of it?"

You could sense something was happening as the two spoke in what you thought was an amicable tone, but then Mizu is pulling you behind her and shedding her jacket. You take hold of it instinctively as she went to drop it on the ground and she finally turns your way.

"Everything is fine," she tells you in that same confident tone, but she must see your confusion and anxiety written on your face because she takes your chin in her hand and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You stand there with a stupid, dumbstruck look she grins at as she--

She's heading to the ring. She's heading to the middle of the ring and she's shedding another layer as she climbs over the freshold oh dear gods you don't know what to do. What to think. Holy fucking shit she's right there in a sports bra and baggy pants while wrapping her knuckles-- where did she get wrappings from?????

You're more than short circuiting at this point. You need a soft reboot. Maybe a full reboot at this rate since she's sliding off those tinted glasses and-- oh.

You see her eyes.

You've seen them before, of course. But not like this. Not with this intensity behind them. Like she's looking right through her opponent to predict every single movement his future self might consider making. That indomitable focus had you flushing with heat from head to toe as you watched, mouth parted, breaths quickening.

She floors a man twice her size and three times the bredth and your knees might give out. Are you swooning? You might just be fucking swooning holy fuck--

But then she gets gut punched and then tackled by a secret second opponent and you snap back into the whole situation.

You scream out encouragement to Mizu until your lungs feel dry, and then you scream some more. You want to be the loudest. You want Mizu to hear you and know you're rooting for her while she wipes the floor with these cheating bastards.

There's four of the fuckers now. Four all dressed in similar... you hesitate to call them uniforms. More like they all shopped at the same tec-wear store at the same time. But shit are they fast. You have the slightest moment of worry when you see the glint of metal fly past in one of their fists--

Mizu breaks thier arm with a sickening twist and a wet 'crack', and you think you might never have been so turned on in your entire fucking life.

(And also you might need to address and analyse some things about yourself later...)

The metal drops to the floor with an audible clang and a loud noise goes off somewhere. You're going to be honest, you're not really paying attention to anything else other than how Mizu moves around her opponents. Even outnumbered she holds her own, muscles coiled and yet her movements are smooth like flowing water. You can't help but think of the type that wears away cliffsides and cracks apart mountains, because that's what she's doing. She's fighting smart where they're fighting with force, and she is kicking their fucking asses--

Others converge on the ring, the crowd flooding in to hold them all down and you can't help but notice it takes five fully stacked men to hold Mizu down. And even then that only lasts about seven seconds before she breaks free, methodically picking them all off one by one before she launches herself into the now turbulent crowd.

That's when you panic, shouting for her while elbows and shoulders send you this way and that. You narrowly dodge a fist to the face before a hand grabs yours. You're ready to swing right back when you lock eyes with those sharp blues you so adore.

You both book it out, avoiding flailing limbs and thrown table legs. You've somehow still got Mizu's jacket in the crook of your arm when you both make it outside and keep running, only stopping when the sound of sirens was long, long off in the distance.

You're both curled over in a dark, dank alleyway, breaths haggard and coming out as clouds in the crisp night air.

You look up from your knees, ass pressed against the brick wall to support your wobbly legs, and you can't help but crack a grin when you see Mizu in a similar state, only just realising what the fuck just happened.

The grin breaks into a laugh when Mizu looks to you with a bright smile of her own, it's a wheezing thing at first, but then it becomes a full belly laugh when she joins you. And oh, is that such a rare sight. Mizu losing herself in a laugh and then looking at you with the most beautiful full face smile you've ever seen in your life.

Your giggles die in the face of that smile, replaced with a quiet awe and probably the dumbest looking lovesick stare--

Steps. Multiple steps approach the alley and Mizu's first and only instinct is to hide and protect you, pressing you back against the wall and covering your mouth with her hand, catching your yelp of surprise before it could really become an external sound.

And ohhhhh, what a predicament you find yourself in. Pinned to a wall by this very strong and capable and, evidentally, dangerous woman who took you out tonight to a place you would only dream of going to and protected you the entire time and then caused a room wide fight to break out that she was, up until that point, winning--

Ohhhh my phone is currently dying a death imma have to post and carry on later because my brain is a bastard that way 🙃

#modern mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #underground fighter mizu #I WROTE SOMETHING #HAHA! TAKE THAT BRAIN BLOCK!#HOPE YOU ENJOY #tw fighting #tw violence #but i mean #its bes #eitger way better safe than sorry #fem reader #ish

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dugthisgrave · 1 month

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#i wrote something #it’s not a masterpiece #but I felt inspired #evan buckley #eddie diaz #oliver stark #ryan guzman #911 on abc #buddie #buck x eddie

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the-oracles-maw · 28 days

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hesitancy

totally self indulgent trash

tw: implied past abusive relationship, power imbalance, this relationship isn't very healthy gang

Simon “ghost” riley x reader

"Simon? Are you ready to go?"

Your fiancé briefly pauses from typing away at the home office laptop. He was totally engrossed in finalizing paperwork, you paid little mind to the details. You squeeze your arm, nervously, shuffling in the gown you've picked out for the night. Simon's old military buddies had invited you both to a charity event. Something for veterans. Your gown was a tank-sleeve, somewhat form fitting number, that cascaded down to your ankles. It was a deep, dark teal color, and from the sleeves, a sheer, sparkly black split "cape" cascaded down your back, past your feet and onto the floor.

"Mn... in a minute." Simon's response was blunt. Not even looking up from the computer screen, sending a pang in your stomach. Perhaps he was very, very focused. And you must've disturbed him.

Shaking out the dress shirt he's picked out for the evening, you lay it over the back of the chair, daring to speak up again. "We've gotta leave in about a half hour."

"Mn..." His grunt became a little louder, as if he was annoyed. Or, at the very least, aware of your presence, fingers flying away across the keyboard.

"Um...." You speak up, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do... do you want me to call John?" Wondering if perhaps Simon didn't want to go to the charity. He wasn't exactly a people-person, as you knew. Perhaps offering him an out would please him? You always did your best to please your stoic man. "I... I can tell him you're not feeling well and-"

"Nah," he responded, still not looking at you. "I'll be done soon."

With each passing moments, your posture grew more tense, your body language growing more demure, submissive. A defense mechanism you've picked up in the past, especially regarding the men in your life. If you read their minds, you thought, if you bent over backwards to please them, then...

Simon, on the other hand, had a decent idea of what he was doing to you, as you meekly muttered that you were going to wait for him in the living room. A surge of adrenaline rushes through him hearing your meek voice, a tingling that starts in his chest, and creeps into his loins. A power imbalance he doesn't exactly relish, but didn't do anything to put a stop to either, under the assumption that this was just how you were.

There was a time, that, perhaps, Simon was amused of how easily you submitted to him. A ghost (lol) of a smile curling up his lips, he finishes up the paperwork on the laptop, and closes it. Grabbing the dress jacket you left on the computer chair for him, he makes his way into the living room, where you waited.

You were still curled into yourself. Did Simon not like the dress? Was it too revealing? You'd pulled over a big, fluffy jacket over it. Your shoulders drawn to each other, pinching the bit of visible tummy from your dress. Simon's lack of comment or attention has clearly done a blow on your self-esteem.

Simon looked on, despite his massive size, entirely silent. Flickers of compassion watch over him as he watches your pick yourself apart. He's grown to expect your complete submission, but now without having complicated feelings for it. The man couldn't deny that there was something sickeningly endearing the way you modified your behavior on a whim just to please him.

Simon knows exactly why you cast aside your gaze whenever he enters the room, when he's anything less than beaming with happiness. He knows exactly why you pick at your tummy, why you scrunch your shoulders. He knows very well, that you're irrationally terrified of the man. "You alright?" Simon, aware of your anguished state, lowers his voice as he approaches you.

You straighten up as he approaches. Furiously rubbing your tear stained eyes and cheeks, you rise to meet him. "I'm okay, Si. I'm okay." The man isn't convinced, but he allows you to adjust the collar of his dress jacket and shirt.

"You sure?" Simon was starting to grow concerned. This power, he was used to it. The assumption that this was just how you were... Well... to say he wasn't beginning to crow a little concerned was an understatement. Did he do something to cause this? Did something frighten you?

He sadly, was disappointed, but not al ass surprised, when he placed his hands over yours to fix his collar himself, and you flinched.

He backs up, raising his hands in surrender, also raising an inquisitive brow at this extreme reaction. His eyes soften at your spluttering following words:

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I-"

"You're trembling." His deep, accented voice rumbled. It was softer than it had been all night. His hands hovered over yours, not quite touching them, but they just, barely graved over yours as they shook. Violently.

"Come, let's talk about this. Come sit, luv." He made sure to watch his tone. With your anguished mental state, you would certainly get the wrong idea if he asked you to do something for him. He sits next to you and begins. "Now, what's going on, huh? You scared of me?"

You don't answer.

It was answer enough.

That did anger him. but for your sake, that anger only simmered inside him. He's exploited people being afraid of him for so long. Came with being a master interrogator, of course. But to see his significant other shy away from him like this? Did you think the man was made of stone?

"Easy... easy..." His hands hover over your shoulders and chest as you pull yourself tightly together. Simon thought his ego would be thoroughly fed by the way you were acting. Perhaps, at one time. At one time. Not now.

"Just... breathe... alright? Breathe... Relax... Don't look at me like I'm about to strike you, luv. I'm not. You hear me?"

His tone is gentle, but firm. His hands hover over your face now, as if he wants to wipe away your tears, but doesn't. As if touching your face would drive you over the edge. His voice continues to whisper to you, enveloping your senses like a great blanket, until you've sufficiently calmed down. Giving you a small smile, Simon shed his jacket.

"Look, I'm not... liking what I'm seeing..." he motioned his hand in a circle around you. "here." He reaches over, making sure to touch the jacket and not you, pulling it off.

"Well won't you look at that... A sight for sore eyes, luv." You swear you saw him lick his lips. "Just makin' sure you know it ain't about the dress." He even gave you a small smile.

"Look..." he began. "I know I can be... well, fuck it, intense but..." A long sigh. "You? You're my partner. Not my fucking squamates." He was still whispering. "I don't want to have to come home to someone who looks like a tick about to fucking pop whenever they're around me."

You avert your gaze.

"No, come on, luvie, look at me." This time, he did touch you, the tips of his big fingers tilting your chin. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I..." you start, your voice barely audible. "I don't know... why..."

"You know, just cause I'm military, don't mean I'm gonna smack you around, got me?"

"I know, I... I really don't know why I'm like this... I don't know why you scare me."

You cover your mouth as Simon gives you a slow nod. "I see. Don't say anything, luv." He reaches out his hand, unfurled, wanting you to take it. "Looks like we've got a little something to work on, yeah?"

He was right. This was something that was only going to worsen the more it was ignored. Instead of taking Simon's hand, you withdraw. Simon closes it and gives a proud nod. You needed to learn and shake the idea that due to your fiancé's career, that he had no intention to hurt you.

And Simon needed to swallow his pride, and read you better. Having you cater to every whims down to the way he breathes, is only going to brew fear and resentment, not love and respect.

"I think we should call it off, yeah?" Simon scoots in closer to you. Your sides were touching. "I don't think you're in any state to mingle about a bunch of people."

You agreed.

"Why don't you put on something cozy, I'll give John and the shrink a call, yeah?"

You were going to work on this. You weren't going to be mindlessly flighty around your man. And he was willing to put in the work himself to show you had nothing to fear? You were touched. Beyond touched.

Your face lights up, ever so slightly, and you speak, the clearest as you have that night. "Okay. Simon?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

~the-oracles-maw~

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confusedshades · 2 months

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Inspired by this link by @cyrwrites.

#dc universe #titans tower au #tim drake #jason todd #batfam #i tried writing something #i wrote something

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aurkitnarulaoge · 13 days

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But it shouldn't be like that.

Love shouldn't be a curse. It should be a garland— it was made to be adorned.

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wildlyglittering · 4 months

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Illyrian Comfort Pie

I shared a post with some Christmas OTP prompts and asked if anyone wanted any for Nessian and @dustjacketmusings chose:

"Every country has different traditions for Christmas when it comes to food: trying something new when they have always eaten the same dishes for the holidays feels wrong at first. But when it’s cooked with love by their favourite person, it can sure taste like new traditions."

I don't know if this entirely fills the prompt and it's a lot rougher than I'd like but please enjoy!

Illyrian Comfort Pie

“Fuck you, Morrigan.” Nesta wiped her bare arm across her brow, spices and herbs transferring straight from her forehead onto her forearm, the little green and orange specks dusting her skin. “And fuck you Rhys come to that.”

The alarm on her phone screamed and Nesta whirled around in her small kitchen space. She’d put the device down earlier, stabbing at the timer with a flour covered fingertip whilst trying to shove her pie into the oven.

Where the hell had she put the damn thing?

On the counter stood an open cookbook entitled ‘Recipes from the Heartland of Illyria,’ a bottle of wine which doubled as a rolling pin and cooking motivation, and Nesta’s pathetic pastry attempts one, two, and three – each one slightly less gloopy than the last - until she finally made semi-successful attempt number four.

No phone.

Nesta let out a noise halfway between a screech and a yell, her hands reaching either side of her head, ignoring whatever food stuff would end up in her hair.

“Shit!” At least she managed to remember what the phone alarm was for, swivelling behind her and yanking down the oven door, reaching for the mitts as she ducked a plume of smoke.

This one didn’t smell too bad. Nesta grabbed the pie and shoved it onto the trivet on the counter. The crust was a little singed on one side but, if she was careful, she’d be able to scrape that off.

Her movements jostled a reem of paper towels and as they fell to their side, they revealed the object of Nesta’s irritation. One phone.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling as she turned off the alarm. Her thanks was to whatever cookery god was willing to listen and half to the smoke alarm not going off.

Three notifications waited for her. She took a breath in and hit open on the first one.

Hahaha. You agreed to what?! Even *I* run from making that dish. Pretty sure my *grandmother* ran from making that dish and she used to be a baker. Anyway, are you coming Thursday?

Emerie. Not providing the answers Nesta was so desperately hoping for, instead reminding Nesta she had yet to confirm drinks with her and Gwyn. Nesta typed out a quick response.

Yes to Thursday. Any chance your grandmother would attempt making this again if I paid her?

Sent. Nesta moved onto notification number two - Feyre.

Did you want me to see if the Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street will do a delivery? If you put it in the oven for a bit and burn the edges no one will know.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. The audacity of her sister to assume Nesta would need assistance and that she’d burn the pie. She had burnt the pie but still, the audacity.

She chose not to respond to that one and instead moved to the final notification. Cassian. Nesta took a deep breath and hit open.

Are you having as much fun as I am? Thinking I could do this as a side hustle.

There was a photo attached. Cassian had taken a selfie of himself standing in front of his obnoxiously large quartz kitchen counter. His dark hair was tied in a messy bun and he winked into the camera. He wore an apron Nesta had never seen before, deep red with candy cane striped ties and in Christmas style writing was embroidered ‘Kiss the Chef’ underneath a sprig of mistletoe.

Nesta squinted at the image, zooming past Cassian himself to the dishes behind him slightly out of frame. Was that a bowl of perfectly glazed parsnips? A tray of immaculate shortbreads?

She let out another noise and flung the phone back onto the counter so she could press her palms into her eyes. At this point she was covered in flour, meat juice, and soggy pastry pieces. Sweat gathered under her breasts and trickled down her back from the constant heat of the oven.

Nesta had been baking for over six hours now and though there was a small part of her which wanted to cry, she refused. Although she’d cursed Morrigan and Rhys the biggest ‘fuck you’ should have been delivered to Nesta herself.

She’d agreed to this when she should have declined, and now her pride would cause her to take a fall.

There had been five of them for drinks at Rita’s. Should have been two – only Nesta and Cassian for their quiet post theatre drinks, but Morrigan had been there with other friends who she swiftly abandoned as soon as she saw Cassian arrive.

Within minutes Morrigan had called Feyre and then before Nesta knew it, she was being squished into a booth, Cassian to her left and Feyre to her right, while she sipped her chilled white wine and counted the minutes until it was socially acceptable to say her goodbyes.

“Oh my god,” Morrigan had been saying. “That was the best dish I think I’d ever eaten. Do you remember it Rhys? The caramelised onions and gravy? What was it called again Cass?”

Cassian groaned and lolled his head back. “Illyrian Comfort Pie. My favourite.” He took a sip of his beer. “The Illyrian army did a version with off-cuts, almost ruined a perfect dish.”

“What’s this pie?” Feyre asked.

“Only the best pie in the world,” Cassian replied, his eyes misting over. “Imagine thick tender beef soaked in its own juices for hours, drowned in rich gravy and embedded with caramelised onions all under a cover of hot crust pastry.”

“You need a room, Cass?” Rhys laughed.

Cassian raised his middle finger to Rhys but joined him in the laughter.

“Cassian’s ex made the best version,” Morrigan said, her eyes sliding to Nesta. “Honestly no one would be able to top it. Bri wasn’t even Illyrian but it was spot on.” She took a long sip from her own glass of red wine. “I guess it doesn’t need to be your own tradition if you care enough to put in the effort.”

There was a heavy silence which would have lingered if not for the clearing of Feyre’s throat. “Who’s got who for Secret Santa?”

“Oh, I’m sure if Nesta put in the effort it would be just as good. Right?” Nesta looked up and met Rhys’ eyes as he ignored Feyre’s question. He smirked as he finished speaking, cocking his own beer bottle to his mouth.

Three more pairs of eyes looked her way. Nesta felt the slight, almost imperceptible tensing from Cassian but it was Feyre’s eyes which widened the most. There was a kick against Nesta’s shin under the table.

“I’m sure it would,” Nesta said, “if I had the time.”

“Cassian was telling us at the bar you’re now on vacation. All your gifts already wrapped and under the tree. Sounds like you have time.”

“Rhys...” Feyre began but Morrigan jumped in.

“I think that would be a lovely Christmas present for Cass. You can start your own tradition now you’re official. Illyrian food is so hearty.”

There was a part of Nesta which was too stubborn for her own good. Rhys’ smirk and Morrigan’s too-wide grin opposite her, the meeting of the cousin’s eyes like this was some in-joke they had just started. Feyre kept kicking her under the table, the jostling movement irritating Nesta further.

The flash of irritation was the problem. That, and the second glass of wine she’d drunk on a half empty stomach fuelling it. Her temperature rose and her skin prickled and instead of counting to twenty like she’d been practicing in her apartment Nesta opened her mouth.

“Fine,” she said, “this whole thing sounds great. One Illyrian Comfort Pie it is. When do you want it? Day after next?” Nesta quickly grabbed her glass to take a swig of her drink before she agreed to anything else.

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up but she didn’t want to meet his eyes, he was probably thinking how Nesta wasn’t implementing those ‘take a moment’ techniques. But his hand reached down to clasp her free one under the table, giving it a squeeze.

“You know what?” he said, looking at the group. “I want in on this. New traditions sound great. You’re making mine so how about yours. What’s the Archeron family dish of choice?” He asked this looking at Nesta but she still had the wine glass clamped to her lips. No longer drinking, just holding it there to feel the cold.

“Ooh,” Feyre said, clapping her hands and jiggling a little on her seat. “Roasted venison, but that’s quite tricky. We haven’t eaten that since Elain went vegetarian. We also had roast potatoes and honey glazed parsnips. Green beans. There was a cheesy mash and – oh, oh, the shortbread biscuits with a chocolate drizzle and the Prythian Pavlova. That’s Nesta’s favourite.”

Cassian laughed. “You want to take a breath there, Feyre?”

In response, Feyre’s stomach grumbled. “No, but I think I need some dinner.”

Aside from Nesta, the table laughed. Her wine glass was now empty and back on the table, her fingers toying with the stem, her mind too preoccupied with the thought of this pie and how the hell she’d even find the recipe.

As the chatter resumed, now about where Rhys and Feyre were going for dinner, Cassian’s weight shifted against her, his arm casually slinging around her shoulders.

“You ok?”

She glanced up at him, plastering a smile on her face. “Absolutely fine.”

“Hmm. Is that genuine fine or Nesta fine?”

Cassian was staring at her intently, concern swimming in his dark eyes. She knew if she immediately conceded he’d let it go, their friendship group knew Nesta wasn’t known for her domestic pursuits and Cassian could whip up a mean dish filled with flavour.

If she really wanted to, Nesta could cheat her way out of this. Getting Elain to bake the pie for her would have once been a consideration until Elain and Lucien’s diet change. No meat, no dairy, no sugar.

No flavour, Lucien had added, ignoring Elain’s frown.

Still, there was something else shining in Cassian’s eyes. Excitement. He was pleased she’d agreed, he relished competition in all its forms and he seemed eager to do this with her.

Nesta’s smile melted in a more genuine one and she squeezed his hand back. “Honestly, it’s good. Dare I say I may even find it fun?”

That was two days ago. Two long days.

“Ha!” She now shouted to her cramped kitchen. “Two drink Nesta has no concept of what the fuck fun is.”

Everything was a mess, even the edges of the cookbook were singed and Nesta cringed at the sight. Gwyn had managed to track down the edition on her behalf and Nesta hated to see a book suffer.

She looked at the clock. Two hours to go – plenty of time to shower, dress up and cart the pie to Cassian’s where they would have a grand unveiling in front of their friends. Her phone pinged and Nesta glanced down to see a reply from Emerie.

She says no chance.

“That’s not a problem,” Nesta said, wiping her hands on her thighs and staining her jeans further. “Because I now have a half decent pie.” She picked up the sharp knife. “Just scrape some of the black bits off and we are good to go.”

The knife slid through the crust and Nesta lifted some of the burnt pastry off using the blade. Odd. What was a deep and crispy brown on the surface seemed pale and soft underneath. Almost as though the pastry hadn’t fully cooked all the way through.

“It’s just this bit,” Nesta told herself. “I’m sure the rest is just fine.” But as she gently lifted the pie-top she could see the same pale colour underneath. Worse was the distinct lack of steam rising from the filling. “No, no, no, no. You’ve been in the oven for almost two hours.”

Grabbing a fork, she stuck it into the dish and scooped out a lump of meat. Juice, which looked far too oily for her liking, dripped off the prongs. Nesta placed the meat on the counter and cut through it with a knife.

She was met with resistance. The beef was still cold. A noise left her throat unbidden, something akin to a half sob. Nesta had researched the best meat cuts for the pie, she’d made sure to go to the best butcher and spent no less than forty-five minutes asking the rather exasperated man behind the counter questions from her list.

Her eyes flew up to the clock. Less than two hours to go. The time she’d budgeted to get ready and go to Cassian’s now shrivelled up. Just like my hopes for this pie.

She peered into the dish, the caramelized onions bobbing in the gravy like some apple bobbing contest gone wrong. “You’re mocking me,” she said and then groaned. They wouldn’t be the only ones.

Nesta sank down onto her floor, ignoring the drip of gravy she sat on and put her head on her knees. She could imagine it all now; Feyre, Rhys, and Morrigan all dressed up, swanning around Cassian’s apartment waiting to be served their multiple courses.

Feyre’s eyes would go wide at Nesta’s attempt but she’d try and make Nesta feel better and yet somehow by trying, she’d only make Nesta feel worse. Cassian would likely tuck the monstrosity – if she even bothered bringing it – behind some extravaganza he’d made and perform an elaborate distraction.

Rhys and Morrigan would probably just snigger behind their drinks and tell her that ‘at least she tried.’ Patronising fuckers.

A tear dripped from the corner of her eye down her chin.

Nesta had tried. Had really tried. She’d memorised the recipe from back to front before she even started, she’d gone out into Velaris Market with a clipboard, she’d called Elain early for pastry tips ignoring Lucien joining the call to ask Nesta if she could describe what real food tasted like because the memory of butter was fading fast.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, knowing she must look even more of a state than before. But wait – there was an option open to her. Hope flared yet.

Nesta grabbed her phone from the counter. What had Feyre said? The Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street might be able to deliver. If anyone served an Illyrian Comfort Pie, it would be them. She scrolled through her favourites for the number. Her and Cassian had eaten there so often, she practically had them on speed dial.

The phone answered after the second ring.

“Hello? Hi. I know it’s late notice but I’m in a bit of a bind and hoping you could help.”

She explained the situation, confirming that yes, her pie request was for that Cassian, the one with the tattoos and arms.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Nesta said, eyeing up the clock and tapping her foot against the cupboard. “I’ll ask him. Some kind of protein shake, I think. Yeah, it’s really glossy hair. I’ll ask him that too. Anyway – the pie?”

They were regretful. Truly. Nesta could almost feel their sorrow down the phone. They didn’t have any pies pre-baked and they wouldn’t have one ready for the time she needed it by. They offered Nesta and Cassian a discount on their next visit and Nesta thanked them before hanging up.

“Well. Shit.”

Her eyes itched and she wanted to cry again but this wasn’t the Archeron way. She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. There would be no pie but Nesta would be damned if she turned up without bringing anything and looking like a chaotic mess.

The kitchen horror show was a problem for future her, but in less than an hour, she had showered, dressed herself in her most confidence boosting little black dress and practiced her affirmations in front of the hallway mirror.

“You are a calm, confident, capable woman. You did not achieve the pie. Others have probably not achieved the pie. You have achieved other things. Like your best friends, two degrees, and this awesome looking pavlova.”

Nesta held the covered bowl to the mirror as though to show her reflection the cream and meringue evidence. Her lipstick red smile shook a little but the taxi driver was calling to say he was downstairs so there was no time for doubt to creep in.

On a usual night it took too long to get to Cassian’s. The drive was less than fifteen minutes from one end of the small city where Nesta lived to Cassian’s address and every second stretched out painfully slow.

Tonight, it was as though all roads had cleared especially for her just to say ‘look, you can get to your ritual humiliation even earlier.’

“It’s not like I’ve ever seen Rhys or Morrigan cook,” she mumbled to herself as she exited the cab and entered Cassian’s building. The porter nodded and buzzed her in and then Nesta was counting the too-quick numbers on the elevator.

Cassian’s apartment was one of two at the top of the building and though the sound-proofing was excellent, which they could attest to personally, Nesta was surprised at the distinct lack of any festivities sounding from behind his door when she approached.

He answered after one knock, hair freshly washed and dried. His white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons were undone, swathes of black swirling tattoos on display.

Cassian let out a low whistle and grinned like a wolf when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite lady, in my favourite dress of hers, with my favourite dish.”

He leant in to kiss her and Nesta winced at the mention of food. Cassian’s lips met hers in a chaste kiss but he must have noticed her response as he was frowning when he pulled away.

“Come in,” he said with a light tone. “Let me take that.” He held his hands out for the bowl she was carrying but she clutched it tighter to her body.

“That’s ok, let me find a space to put it.”

“Sure.”

Nesta stepped further into the apartment. Everything was chrome, quartz, or wood but Cassian couldn’t help himself when it came to Christmas. What was once an interior designers dream for a ‘bachelor living’ magazine spread was now a grotto fit for the dreams of any eight-year-old girl.

A smile lifted the corner of her lips. She’d never begrudge him this. Foster care and ten endless churn of care homes hadn’t left Cassian with any sense of home and the orphanage tried their best but lacked the funds.

Cassian had told her that his best Christmas eventually came in the Illyrian military and all that involved was eating dry turkey from paper plates and reading stupid jokes from cheap crackers. But he was with people that felt like family and that’s what mattered the most.

Now, garlands hung from the oversized windows, a tree larger than Cassian himself stood by the fireplace decked with shining ornaments. A range of presents piled up under the tree to the point where they spilled across his floor.

Stockings on the mantel, rugs everywhere, gingerbread houses which increased in number each time Nesta was over. Candles on every surface.

“Wine?” Cassian asked as Nesta slid the bowl onto his counter. She nodded while taking a breath in. Ham and apricot, honey, a distinct scent of rich chocolate. All the food laid out but under coverings to keep them fresh.

Her stomach stank. She’d failed him so miserably.

Her face must have painted a picture because Cassian moved beside her. “Hey, what’s up.” His fingers tucked under her chin, tilting her face to his. Those deep eyes of his, again swimming in concern.

She hoped the best Christmas present she could get him was honesty.

“I fucked it.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“The pie, I completely fucked it up.”

His confused blank expression immediately melted and he laughed, his head thrown back and the column of his throat on display. His face in laughter was a delight, he was young and happy and in love with life. “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“There is no pie. I botched it.”

He looked down at her, his expression softening, his smile gentle. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. That pie is an art only the devil knows how to get right. Did you know Emerie’s grandmother won’t even make one and she won Illyrian baker of the year for fifteen years?”

Nesta coughed and reached for the wine poured out for her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Cassian moved round the counter to Nesta’s dish. “So, what did you bring?”

“The only thing that didn’t involve my oven. The meringue isn’t even home-made. I’m such a sellout.”

He peeked under the covering and exhaled. “Oh, thank the Mother.” He stepped back, his hand over his heart. “I fucked it.”

Now, Nesta blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“The meringue for the Prythian Pavlova. It was the one thing I wanted to get perfect but do you know how hard meringue is to make? I couldn’t even make it to the store.”

He shook his head, grabbing his own glass of wine. “I even rang Elain to ask her for tips but Lucien answered and begged me to tell him in great detail how the filo wrapped parcels were smelling. He said, and I quote ‘go low and take your time’. I’m not sure how comfortable I am having them over for New Year.”

Nesta laughed, shaking her own head, glancing around the apartment. It had taken her long enough but something finally dawned on her. “Am I early? When are the others arriving?”

Cassian paused, swirling his glass. “Yeah, about that... I thought ‘fuck ‘em.’”

Nesta’s eyes bulged. “I think I’m missing something.”

Cassian put his glass down and leant back against the far counter.

“You know Bri’s pie wasn’t all that great. Mor was being...” he trailed off, scratching his eyebrow the way he did when he was uncomfortable. “Mor was being difficult and it was unfair. Rhys too. But I liked the idea of you and I doing our own holiday tradition so I guess I thought I’d see where we ended up.”

He gestured to his apartment and the dishes before them. “So, we ended up here. Just you and I, a bottle of wine, lots of delicious food and a very comfy rug we’re fucking on after dinner.”

“Is that right?” Nesta said, putting her glass down. She walked over to him. “Have you seen what you’ve made? We are not fucking after dinner.” She placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating a rhythm against her palm as she ignored his disappointed face. “We’re fucking before dinner.”

That wolf grin was back on his face and he leant forward to kiss her but Nesta stopped him. “I feel bad, everything here is an Archeron dish. You didn’t get your pie.”

“Oh, I’ll get to eat my pie.”

“Cassian!”

He laughed again, his broad arms wrapping around her body. “The fact that you tried means everything. I promise. This is a great start to our forever tradition.”

Nesta looked up at him; the hours of failed baking, the constant smoke alarms, the mess she had to clear up tomorrow. Worth it. All of it. “Forever you say?”

“Forever.”

59 notes · View notes

thechanglingchronicles · 5 months

Text

A lil 1k scarian shipping secret life thing cause they deserve to kiss if they’re not gonna actually team up. I did not edit it really so it might be trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, Scar! Stop, running! I want to be friends!” Grian says running after him with Scar just out of ear shot.

“Scar!” Grian finally catches up to him “Can you stay still for a second?”

“I’d love to Grian!” Scar says before running up to his shop.

“Scar I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be friends.” Grian says when Scars in front of him again in his shop.

“Yes, that would be great, I’ve had a rough day,” Scar sighs, trying to be quiet.

“What’s happened?”

“I keep having to do things and I’m loosing friends and the yellows are chasing me trying to guess my task or yell at me for wearing a helmet.” Scar sighs exasperated.

“Why are you wearing a helmet?” Grian squints at him.

“People keep telling me to take it off!”

“I think I got what you’re task is but I’m not sure yet,”

“Noooo Grian, wait!” Scar yells.

“Don’t take your helmet off!” Grian says smiling as he watches Scar take his helmet off. “Ooooo, ok don’t follow me,” Grian reaches his hand out for Scar to take.

“Grian, don’t say anything! I’ll give you a diamond,” Scar said following Grian and holding his hand. Grian just giggles at him. “We can be friends! The diamond can be a symbol of our friendship!”

“Ok, Scar.”

“So where are you taking me G?” Scar questions.

“Oh, um,” a light pink color spreads across his cheeks.

“Do you just want to hold my hand? You could just ask! Or not ask uh,” Scar just coughs when he finishes his thought a little embarrassed. Grian laughs at him, Scar thinks it’s worth being embarrassed for.

“Sorry, I was just trying to mess with you. I didn’t have a location in mind.” They stop but neither let go of the other’s hand.

“Well, do you think you could keep me hidden from the yellows?” Scar asks him.

“I could try, they're kinda like bloodhounds.”

“Is that why they call themselves big dogs? thought it was for when they turn red they can be like Clifford.”

“Scar? I thought of something…” Grian stops, suddenly embarrassed.

“What is it, G?”

“Don’t kiss me,”

“Well, how long have you been thinking about that?” Scar giggles at him.

“It was stupid you don’t have to kiss me,” Grian forcefully rolls his eyes.

“I think I do actually, master’s orders.”

“Master? Scar! Shut up!” Grian yells.

“If that’s what you want…, gee Grian I'd really like to kiss you but I’m not sure if that’s what you want or not, could you clarify? I sure would appreciate it if you did-“ Grian cuts him off.

“Scar! Don’t shut up,” Scar looks at him and then his lips in response, then he wiggles his eyebrows. Grian finally notices how close they’ve gotten. Inches away in the middle of the forest all by themselves. Grian sighs and leans in.

Scar smirks before reaching up to Grian’s cheek and tilting his head for his lips to plant on. He lightly pressed his lips on his before sticking his tongue in his mouth. He’s so gentle. Grian grabs on to Scars waist. Grian sucks on the tongue gently feeling around his mouth.

Scar retrieved his tongue before biting the top lip in front of him. He tugs a little before stopping. Grian wines a little. Scar goes back to lightly pressing their lips together. Grian reaches up to the back of Scars head and pushes his head into him. Scar gasps in surprise before moving into Grian’s mouth again and sucking on lips both hands on his face for stability. Scar moves his hands down to Grian’s waist while still moving his mouth around Grian’s mouth.

Scar opens his eyes to look at Grian in his hands for a moment before moving his mouth down to his chin and then his neck slowly rubbing his mouth in circles against him. He stops in the crook of his neck and starts sucking. Grian stares blankly for a second before turning away.

“Scar, you are not giving me a hickie on this server,” Grian scolds him.

“Now I have too!” Scar whines.

“Ah Scar!”

“What!”

“Wait!” Grian hears vague barking noises and laughter in the distance. “Scar look like we didn’t just do that.” Scar just smirks at him, while Grian groans.

“Hey Scar! Is that Grian with you?” Martyn calls as soon as he sees them.

“Oh hey, dogies!” Scar says

“Hey Scar,” Jimmy says

“What’s up?” Grian asks.

“Martyn hasn’t guessed Scar’s task yet,”

“He’s being so obvious, but I’m not sure what it is yet,” Martyn says.

“Well how about we look at what I have in my shop instead!” Scar says sprinting for his shop.

“Wait, Scar!” Jimmy calls after him. They all start running after him.

“Scar, Stop!” Martyn says as he watches Scar turn the other direction.

“Scar, can you run from me?” Scar stops

“Huh?” Jimmy looks confused.

“Scar, don’t move,” Scar looks around but doesn’t move.

“Scar?” Grian questions.

“Wait? What?” Jimmy asks.

“You know what, I have no idea what your task is. I give up.”

“Ahah! Woo!” Scar cheers as they walk away.

“Scar? I think you failed?” Grian asks.

“Wait, what?” Scar stares blankely and turns his head like a confused puppy.

“Martyn told you not to move, and you didn’t move.” Grian says slowly.

“Ah, shoot! I looked around! I don’t want any hall monitors on me guess, I failed.” Scar walks back in his shop house and sits behind the counter head in hands.

“Hey, how many hearts are you on?”

“Not looking, took too many running from yellows just to mess up on a technicality!” Scar complains.

“I can give you a heart?” Grian asks getting Scar to look up at him.

“You would do that? I thought you only give them to somebody special.” Scar drops his hands down on the counter and grian takes the chance to grab his hand.

“We’ll you did give me a diamond of friendship.”

“Friendship…,”

“Scar!”

“Meh,” Scar giggles at his partner.

59 notes · View notes

rs-hawk · 3 months

Note

Do you have any writing tips? Even if it’s not necessarily for smut?

I won’t be touching on tips for smut at all on this post but I can make a separate post for it if y’all want.

My Top 10 Writing Tips

Love all your characters. Yes, even your antagonists. Hell, especially your antagonists. Even if they’re evil for the sake of being evil, if you want a 3 dimensional character, you have to acknowledge that they’re more than just evil to someone. Their mother. Their friends. Their dog. You have to think of their motivations, and honestly?-acknowledge that every character you write has a part of you in them. Maybe just your anger, your fear, your trauma, but love them for that, and it’ll shape them and your works in ways you never thought of.

Don’t reread your work too often! It’s hard (so very very hard) but when you have to crank out 2k words a day every day of the month but 2 it gets easier. Lol. Fr though just keep chugging along. You can reread later. You can edit later. Just get it done.

Don’t edit too much while you’re still actively writing. I know that’s hard, I really do, but if you keep rewriting, you’ll never be able to finish. You’ll keep writing a handful of scenes over and over again until you hate it, your book and yourself for “giving up”. You can edit later.

Write for yourself. It doesn’t matter how good of a writer you are, how beautiful or eloquent your style, if you hate it with every fiber of your being, it’ll turn to dust in your hands. I consider writing work, and when people enjoy themselves at work, not only do they do better, but the consumer enjoys it more. Think about it. If you’re at a restaurant and the workers are laughing and smiling with each other and seem genuinely happy, you’re more likely to go back than if they’re miserable, on the verge of tears and seem to hate being there, right? The same is true for your writing. Readers will enjoy it more if they can feel how much you enjoyed creating it.

Don’t just write. Listen to music. Get up and go for a walk. Text/call a friend. Watch a TV show. Pet your cat. Experience something. It helps you write but it also reminds you that hey, you’ve been here like eight hours. Get something to drink. Take a screen break. Go outside.

Be comfortable while you write. I’m not going to lecture you on posture because I’m currently laying down with my legs drawn up under me, my upper body turned and my phone in the air because I’m trying to put enough pressure on my lower back to pop it. Anyway, even if you can’t stay in one position long, switch. Listen to your body. A “proper” posture can end up hurting you if you don’t ever relax or if you’re putting too much pressure on your lower spine. It’s okay to lean. It’s okay to lay down. It’s okay to sit cross-legged. Just not at the expense of your body. Be aware, and don’t forget to get up and stretch!

Take breaks. Eat. Drink. Stretch. Go to the bathroom. Some people need them scheduled, and that’s fine, but also listen to your body. If you need to use the toilet but you don’t have another break scheduled for an hour, just go. Pause your timer or delay your alarm if you want, but take care of yourself.

Don’t be too rigid with your “starting” plot. We know most of us have that one scene or one character in mind we want to write, so we create a plot around them. That’s fine and I love it, but your writing is like a living creature. You might change while writing it. Your characters and ideas might change while writing it. Let them change. Let you change! You can edit later.

Remember it’s not a race. Just because you see some people dropping 3 novels a year, or 5 Tumblr posts every day doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. No one can write what you write. No one can create what you can create. Your work deserves to exist and be judged on its own merit. Not compared to anyone else’s, even if it’s you five years ago who could crank out multiple posts daily. It’s okay.

Don’t expect anything. Start writing because you love it. It makes you happy. It itches that part of your brain that no other hobby does. That no other love does. I’ve been writing for about 15 years now. I don’t know who I am without it. I have tried giving it up, moving past it, doing other things, but I always come back. Nothing else makes me feel the way writing does. I have gone years without writing, but when I start writing again, it’s like a high. I can go for hours, and I have! I have been lucky to be able to monetize my work, but it took 10+ years and was only because I got goofy about werewolves on a PTR app. You can’t go into the arts and expect to make money right away, or ever. You can hope, and do your best, but don’t only do it because you think you’ll make a living. It’s a sad but real fact. Capitalism makes us think we should only do stuff we can make money off of, but that’s a lie. You can AND SHOULD create just to create. Humans are meant to make art, and if writing is your canvas like it is mine, write to create. Fuck capitalism. Your art existing is enough reason to create it.

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bleedingoptimism · 4 months

Text

They hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator as they walk inside the very luxurious building and Robin grabs Steve’s hand and makes them run to the door yelling, “Hold! Please!”

A hand covered in rings and with short nails painted black appears from inside and holds the door for them. They get in as Robin breathes out little ‘thank yous’ under her breath and Steve smiles at the gentleman who helped them. His brows go up a little at how handsome the man is. He’s wearing black dress pants and a black silk shirt under an also black suit jacket. The whole look is expensive and the man wears it very well. With his long curly hair tied at the back of his neck, plus the rings, the nails, and the surprising amount of piercings in his ears, he looks like a rockstar. He has a cute nose and full lips that look very enticing and big beautiful brown eyes that are looking back at him.

Steve smiles once more and nods politely figuring he should stop staring. They have to go up like a billion floors or something so this is going to be a long elevator ride. Probably shouldn’t make their traveling companion uncomfortable.

He distracts himself by looking at Robin, fixing her hair behind her ear. She looks great. Slack pants and a tight dress shirt in grey tones with black suspenders adorned with metal cufflinks. Short hair loose and just the right amount of disheveled and a graphic eyeliner so sharp it could cut you. He would know. He did her makeup. They were asked to dress party chick but professional, which neither of them knew what the hell meant but Steve is pretty sure Robin nailed it. He just hopes he did a good job too.

He’s wearing a white thigh shirt of a soft material he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of and black dress pants, the ones that fit him like a second skin, paired with a big leather belt, just to add a little extra. He tries to inconspicuously check himself out in the mirrors of the elevator but accidentally meets eyes with the well-dressed man again. Who adverts his gaze quickly and Steve realizes he just caught him checking him out. He smiles to himself and looks down bashfully only to be horrified by what he notices because, his white shirt? The stupid fabric he can’t name? Totally sheer. Well not totally, but a little. Like he can see his nipples right now a little.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Robin, we need to go.” he suddenly says grabbing Robin by the back of the elbow.

Robin turns to him previously just nervously watching the floor numbers change and frowns worried, “What? We are already here, Steve! What do mean?”

“I need to go home and change Robin! I can’t-” He whispers to her, although he knows it’s in vain, there’s no way the handsome man isn’t about to hear a very embarrassing conversation.

“We are literally in the elevator. We are not going back home so you can change!” Robin huffs annoyed now that she knows it wasn’t anything more serious, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” she asks pinching his shirt between her fingers.

Steve turns his back to the man and crowds Robin, facing her, “Can you see my nipples?” he asks trying to keep his voice low but he hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle behind him.

Robin looks at him like he’s lost his mind but, as always she goes with it, “Yes?”

Steve puts his palms over them and gasps and Robin starts laughing “What are you doing?” she says between giggles at the same time Steve exclaims, “I can’t show our new boss my nipples!”

“Steve, what?! I thought it was on purpose! You know, just a peek, a little chess hair, a little nipple.” Robin says still laughing but stops when she sees Steve is looking actually distressed.

She huffs and runs her hands up and down his arms comfortingly.

“Why would I want to show them my nipples!” Steve groans and Robin shrugs.

“It’s sexy? We were asked to dress for a party”

“Why would I want to look sexy for work?” Steve asks again, still trying to convince Robin to let him go home and change.

But Robin tilts her head to the side, “But you can’t turn that off, though? Like, you are always sexy.”

Instantly his mood changes and he smiles and coos at her, “Aww, that’s so sweet, babe! But you are biased…”

Robin scoffs at being babied and raises an eyebrow, “How am I biased?”

“Because you love me!” Steve answers like it’s obvious. And Robin nods as if taking in the information.

“Okay. I see your biases and I raise you the following point: It’s objective. Because I’m a lesbian.”

Steve laughs, but he’s not the only one. For a second, Steve had forgotten they had an audience member. A very handsome audience member. He blushes, the guy must think he’s such an idiot. But at least he thinks they are funny. He turns back to his side and smiles at him again.

But Robin suddenly jumps a little beside him, like she had just noticed him, and says, “Stranger! Opinion?”

“Rob, no-” Steve starts but Robin leans over him to talk to the man, “Shirt. Good? Bad?” She says moving her hands in front of Steve as if she was showcasing him. Steve blushes some more and tries to keep a neutral face. So he ends up just white-man smiling awkwardly.

The man chuckles again and then looks at Steve from top to bottom and back again, “You look good,” he says smirking.

And Steve's blush deepens. But Robin either doesn’t notice or is enjoying it, because she keeps questioning him, “Good. What are thinking? Slutty or sexy?”

The man leans his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Steve's chest and Steve has to resist the urge to cover his nipples again.

“It’s sexy.” he says, voice deep and serious as if this was an important conversation and not Robin and Steve being dumbasses, “Like, sophisticated sexy.”

Steve shakes himself to try to make his blush go away and addresses the man, “I- well, thank you, first. And second, I’m sorry you were dragged into this. But would you want to look sexy meeting your new boss?” he asks him.

He taps his chin in thought and then says, “Your friend is right though, are already here. Just don’t flirt with them and you'll be fine!”

At that Steve purses lips and Robin snorts rudely. “That might be a problem,” she says.

The man laughs surprised and Steve can’t help but think he has a really nice laugh, “How?” he asks them.

“Steve has a little miscommunication problem,” Robin explains, “When he tries to be charming people think he's flirting.”

Steve crosses his arms and huffs making the few locks that fall on his forehead lift a bit and fall back down, “I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I’m just trying to be nice..”

The man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times before snickering, “Looks like your friend is right, again. You just can’t turn sexy off, uh?”

Robin laughs really hard at that and Steve goes back to full tomato status.

“I could've tried!” he says, not even sure what are they arguing about anymore.

“How?” Robin asks him amused.

“I don’t know, a big sweater? Something knitted, comfy?” he tries but they both shake their head at him.

“That sounds sexy too,” The man says and Steve frowns,

“Literally. How?”

“It gives off fuck vibes. Like you are really fuckable,” he says, and then his eyes go wide and he bites his lips.

Robin’s eyes go wide too and she snorts, looking at Steve who is just staring at the guy with his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Sorry!” the man says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “That was so out of line- I- oh! Saved by the bell it seems,” he says when the elevator dings, “This is my floor”

The doors open and Argyle and Jon are on the other side and Steve realizes, this is also their floor.

“Eddie!” Argyle says as the man moves towards him and they shake hands enthusiastically.

“Steve, Robin” Jon greets them with a smile as they slowly walk out of the elevator, watching Eddie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Ah! I hope you had a pleasant elevator ride and didn’t do anything awkward!” Argyle jokes completely oblivious, “I’m a little sad I didn’t get to introduce you guys!”

“...What do you mean?” Robin asks with a forced smile.

“Steve, Robin: This Eddie Munson!” Argyle says moving behind Steve and Robin and hugging them by the shoulders so they stand directly in front of Eddie, “Your new boss!”

#stranger things #steddie #meet cute #but awkward #kinda #i wrote something #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve is bringing sexy back (yeah)#eddie doesnt know how to act (yeah)

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frownyalfred · 2 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bruce Wayne & His Kids, Roy Harper & Oliver Queen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Oliver Queen Additional Tags: BAMF Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen Being an Asshole, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Roy Harper Needs a Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Salmon Ladder (Arrow TV 2012), yes THE salmon ladder, The Watchtower (DCU), Competition, Based on a Tumblr Post, no beta we die like jason todd, Crack Summary:

Bruce turned to Jason. “How heavy are you right now?”

“No fucking way,” Oliver said, eyes widening, “You’re kidding me.”

Jason cracked his neck.

“About 280,” he said casually, “Maybe 285.”

#surprise #i wrote something #impulsively so be nice #but yes #this is the salmon ladder post #myfic #theresurrectionist #batman #dc #batfamily #dc comics #oliver queen #roy harper #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #bruce wayne

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ch10srac00n · 5 days

Text

While I am still working on the other critters designs, here’s an confort w a bit of angst story (or whatever you want to see this) about our very shy and depressed captain, Cloudy. This is just a small story that I invented out of nowhere, sorry if my orthography or English is not understandable in some point of the history, I am still learning english and it’s not my first language. Thank you for your understanding.

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Dogpressed was bored, very bored, she has tried everything she has imagine for keeping herself entertained, finish her remain work, cook, clean and literally anything she could think of that unfortunately, it wasn’t much. She felt sad and bored, the need to cry was bigger than before as she couldn’t think about something she could do. Dogpressed wanted to cry very badly but she only does that when she’s alone and unfortunately, she wasn’t.

Dogpressed could hear the sounds of something being punched not to far from her room, that clearly was Groddy who was training in his aggressive way. Her, Groddy and Wipin where alone in the ship, each one minding their own business and the rest of the crew was either doing a mission or other thing that Dogpressed have no idea what could be. She could still hear the conversation of her crew talking about how she couldn’t be left alone in the ship for too long, that conversation was still fresh in her mind and could hear the worry in their words, that conversation was repeating over and over again and it was annoying, she needed to do something.

And that’s what she did. Dogpressed stand up from the chair she was seated in her room and walk out of there, she didn’t care where she was going, she just needed to move and find something to do. Her mind was pure static, not a single thought passed through her mind in that moment, it felt like she didn’t have the control of her limbs in that moment, the only thing that she could actually distinguish from all the static in her head was the feeling of being tired and sad. She didn’t realize how tired her limbs were until she was in the living room, the sofa was some steps away from her but it felt very far away and tired for walk directly to it, then she looked at the ground, there was a grey-ish carpet. It looked comfy.

Right now Dogpressed didn’t care if someone sees her sleeping on the ground, it’s not the first time that happens and it will not be the last time that happens, plus, she was too tired for care about it anymore. Dogpressed didn’t even care about grabbing a pillow or blanket, she just threw herself to the ground, her face hitting the ground and an annoying pain covered all her body but she didn’t care, maybe she got some bruises because of the fall but that’s a problem for her future self.

Dogpressed close her eyes in a try to fall asleep, that of course didn’t work but it was way better than being with her thoughts in her room.

She didn't know how many minutes passed until the static of her head became a simple background sound in her mind, she also didn't know when Wipin was with her until she felt her face being lifted from the ground. Dogpressed opening her eyes in the act, half asleep and all disoriented, the first thing that she saw was Wipin, white as a ghost most probably because she was in the floor with no blanket or pillow, sleeping.

“Captain! Oh god… you look terrible! What happened to you?! Are you hurt? Hungry? When was the last time you have eaten?! Oh god… oh god… my captain!” Wipin said while hugging her head, asking questions that Dogpressed was not listening, the touch of Wipin’s feathers was comfortable, she was clearly taken good care of them, the smell of sweet flowers was in her feathers, Dogpressed didn’t care what Wipin was saying in that moment, she didn’t the only thing she was putting attention was the confortable touch, Dogpressed just melted in her touch.

There was silence for a few minutes, Wipin stopped to ask questions when she realize that her captain was not listening to her, Wipin only felt cuteness for her captain, maybe it wasn’t the right moment, but she tried her best not to care.

“Seriously? Couldn’t you get into the damn sofa instead of fucking sleeping in the shitty floor?” Groddy speak, breaking the confortable silence that was between the captain and Wipin, his voice have a his classical anger with a bit of worry.

Groddy let out a sigh and grab the captain’s hip and throwing her in his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“What you were doing in the floor, boss? You didn’t grab a fucking pillow or blanket, have you have eaten already?” Groddy said, his voice filled with affection and worry, completely different from a moment ago.

“Well of course you fucking didn’t… let’s gonna feed you and later will see what we do with you boss”

“I..I’m going to prepare something for her to eat…” Wipin said while running to the kitchen

“Good idea, now… what I’m going to do with you, boss?”

—————

Probably half an hour has passed by, Dogpressed was obligated to eat a sandwich by both Groddy and Wipin, which was a success. Then they try different activities that consisted in various things like making new strategies for battle and other things, which resulted also in success in distracting Dogpressed from any thoughts or other things that were traveling in her mind minutes ago.

Now, the trio was in the sofa, covered in a big blanket that was supposed to be Floppy’s but forgot it in the living room and it was too late for gain it back, basically becoming everyone’s blanket, usually ending in a trap for Dogpressed when she overworking herself and now, Dogpressed looked like a fucking burrito as she was wrapped in the blanket, she couldn’t move and the fact that she had both Wipin and Groddy hugging her, both deeply asleep in a strange pose that remembered Dogpressed to a domino effect. But she wasn’t going to say anything or wake both of them for her to be able to move and go to her room to sleep.

Even if this was kinda strange, she felt comfortable with both of her crew mates by her side, even if she was like a living pillow that looked like a fucking burrito, she didn’t care, actually she was glad she could have this moment with both of them, Dogpressed trusted both and they where almost family for her. She was so glad that she wasn’t alone in the ship, she was glad to have this moment with them.

“Thank you… both, sleep well” she said, knowing well that either both of them heard her talk, this was maybe the first time she spoke in..months? Years?Her voice felt quite out of place, raspy but very quiet and sweet, she couldn’t remember the last time she even heard her own voice. Maybe she should speak more. Or at least not as a whisper. That maybe could help.

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Hello all! Hope you enjoy this silly little story that I written, sorry if it’s not that understandable time to time, I imagine this in my native lenguaje and as I said in the start, I am still learning English. Anyway, hope you enjoy this an maybe I will make another story about the critters being chaotic.

Space riders AU belongs to @onyxonline and Dogpressed, Groddy and Wipin belongs to Eggritos in X.

#space riders au #smilling critters #frowning critters au #i wrote something #i don’t know #make this before sleeping #bad english

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a-had-matter · 4 months

Text

there's something a little off about me there's something a bit wrong with me I don't know what to do as you can see and don't know what to choose i'm falling i'm flailing cause i can't swim and i'm failing cause i don't win and i'm trying though honestly i'm not and i'm ok (yes i am) (no youre not) and i know that him and me can never be cause i'm much too close to the edge of insane-insanity and i walk and walk and talk and talk and i act and lie like i'm fine that i'm fine cause i'm fine and nothing hurts and it's cold and i feel worse but i don't know what i should know and i can't do what i should be able to cause there's something a little off about me something a little wrong with me but i don't know what it could possibly be

#just a poem #poetry #original poem #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poem #freestyle #spilled thoughts #poets of tumblr #spilled ink #spilled poem #spilled poetry #spilled writing #i wrote something #feelings

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bilolli · 9 months

Link

You just wanted a Whopper!

(3460 words)

Series: Part 1 of ? Hospitalized AU

When you asked to change the hospital you had to read and sign up a lot of papers. A lot of them talked about your new robotic caretakers but one of them went in detail about what kind of food the Faz.Co hospital would serve you: 5 stars meals two times a day. You were delighted by the sole thought of a luxurious meal. Little did you know how much you would crave fast foods in less than a month. This is like, the 15th time you try to get some and you are determined to succed.

#hi #I wrote something #I'm scared now #uhhhh be aware that I'm in no way a writer #and enjoy?#gotta go bury myself alive now #byeee #hospitalized au #sundrop x reader #moon is mentioned sometimes

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beeloovedd · 3 months

Note

Can you write more about Phantom and his OCD? Maybe the others notices him struggling. Really liked the one the one with phantom’s thoughts.

-Anon

Hiiii sorry this took so long lol.

Thank you for the request 💕

Quick note: these are me projecting my current compulsions and this is written as a part 2 to the first fic 💕

Warnings!!: OCD, Compulsions, phantom pretending he's ok when he's not. A quick kiss on the cheek

Phantom sighs as he finishes getting his coffee ready.

He sips it then smiles as it tastes perfectly sweet

He picks up his cup then moves to sit on the couch on the other corner from Swiss.

"You ok?" Swiss asks with slight concern on his face.

Phantom nods "Yea just tired" he says with a smile as he takes a sip.

Swiss raises an eyebrow but nods as he goes back to watching the TV.

Dew moves over to get more comfortable and hides his face in Swiss's neck.

Phantom giggles quietly and Swiss rolls his eyes with a smile.

Phantom takes another sip, gently tapping the top him of his cup to the forehead while counting in his head.

Eventually he takes the sip and goes to put the cup back down in the coffee table but he lifts his arm then lowers it but doesn't put it down yet.

He does it for about 4 times then eventually puts the cup down.

Then he picks it back up and puts it down then finishes the little moment and relaxes back into the couch, he glances at swiss only to see swiss looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Are you sure your o-" swiss says before he gets cut off by the Ghoulettes coming out of Aurora's room laughing loudly.

"How did you manage to get nail polish on in your forehead?!"

Aroura says while laughing. Cirrus rolls her eyes while still also laughing.

Cumulus chuckles at the two and pours more coffee into her cup.

"Well if you let me paint your nails then the polish wouldn't be on your forehead" Cumulus says with a playful smirk and small laugh.

"Hey I'm good at doing nails!" Cirrus says while playfully poking Cumulus's shoulder.

Phantom giggled and Swiss laughs.

A few hours later and after a lot more little off rituals and swiss being skeptical about if phantoms really ok, Dinner is ready and all the ghouls are sitting at the ghouls den table.

It's Swiss's turn to cook tonight and he made enchiladas.

The food is amazing and Phantom begins to eat then puts down his fork to take a drink but of course, it's not that easy to put a fork down apparently.

He taps the fork gently against the table while counting in his head then after 5 tries he finnaly finishes.

He shivers slightly then looks around to make sure no one noticed. Everyone's still eating and talking away then he spots swiss looking at him concerned.

Phantom flashes a small smile to make it seem he's ok.

Thankfully, the rest of dinner goes smoothly, amazing food, no one noticing, And again, amazing food.

All the ghouls finished their dinner and now Mountain and Swiss are washing the dishes while talking about Swiss's recipe, Cirrus, Sunshine and Dew are making popcorn and Cumulus, Aroura and Rain are getting the couch ready for the movie night.

"Hey bug? You gonna watch the movie with us?" Cirrus says as she sits down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and sunshine steals a piece.

"No, not in the mood for a movie tonight really, You guys have fun though" Phantom says with a smile while also walking up and stealing a piece of popcorn.

He grabs the piece then looks down and sees another piece pointing out to him, he gets it.

It feels wrong, not the right number. He gets 3 more pieces, now having give pieces of popcorn.

Cirrus doesn't seem to mind, her, Dew and Sunshine are too busy grabbing handfuls out and Cumulus picks out little pieces and throws them at Aroura for her to catch them in her mouth.

Phantom smiles then eats his popcorn and walks off to his room, he can feel Swiss's energy, concerned. He gets to his room closes his door.

Pressing his back against it then touches the wall and his dresser, he taps it twice except on one he accidentally taps the poster on his wall instead of the wall.

He sighs and closes his eyes then taps the door while counting to 10. .

Then he tried again, he taps the wall twice then taps his shelf once then taps his bed twice.

Finnaly he's done with that and he can lay on the bed. He sighs and relaxes onto the bed, exhausted mentally.

He closes his eyes and puts his arms on his stomach.

Fortunately his relaxing mind break gets interrupted by a knock on the door.

He opens his eyes and sits up and another knock hits the door gently.

"Hey ant, if your not busy I wanna talk with you" Swiss's voice says from the other side of the door.

Phantom takes a deep breath, a tinge of anxiety now flowing through his head, he gets up then opens the door.

"Hey Swiss, aren't you watching the movie" Phantom asks confused and still anxious.

"Eh, they're watching Mean girls again" Swiss says as he steps inside the room and closes the door behind him.

Phantom laughs smally and swiss chuckles before sighing and look at Phantom up and down.

"Are you ok?" He asks, the concern clear in his voice.

"Uh yeah? Why" phantom asks, anxiety clear in his voice.

"You've been.." Swiss thinks for a second "acting off all day, what's going on in the head of yours?" He asks as he ruffles phantoms head.

Phantom blushes out of embarrassment and quickly tries to scramble up an answer.

"What do you mean? I'm fine Swiss, really" he says with a smile.

"I wasn't born yesterday phantom" he laughs then sighs and gently grabs phantoms hand and guides him over to sit on the bed.

"Tell me what's wrong bug, clearly there's something your hiding and it worries me" Swiss says gently but concerned.

"I- uhm.." phantom begins then looks away.

What was wrong with him?

Why did he have to do things a certain way?

Why was he different?

"I...don't know" he says quietly as he realizes he doesn't even know.

"Well....here, why do you keep taping and doing things a number of times? Can you at least give me a bit of answer and we'll figure it out from there?" Swiss asks as he runs his thumbs over the back of phantoms hands.

"I don't know.. I-its just wrong if I don't, like if I don't something b-bad is gonna happen! Or I do it without realizing" he says quietly.

"Ah, I see, I get it. OCD, that's what you most likely have, do you want to go see Aether and Omega in the infirmary? They can let you know for sure?" Swiss says with a small smile.

Phantom shakes his head quickly, yes he loves Aether and Omega but what he doesn't love is the infirmary. The energy is off, it makes his stomach hurt and it makes the thoughts and feelings worse.

"They're something wrong with me?.." phantom says quietly "OCD.. what's that?".

Swiss quickly cups his cheek with one hand and holds and caresses his other hand.

"There is nothing wrong with you phantom.

You're an amazing beautiful ghoul" swiss days as he caresses Phantoms cheek and phantom smiles.

"Here, how about after Aether finishes his work in the infirmary I'll shoot him a text and he'll come over and explain what OCD is ok? Untill then, how do we feel about mean girls?" Swiss says with a playfully smile and gets off the bed.

Phantom nods then smiles with a giggle.

"Sure" he says as gets off the bed too.

Swiss smiles and kisses his cheek then they make their way for the movie night.

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