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zero-to-zero-to-zero-again · 1 year

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Intergalactic Abductees: Tommy (1)

Word Count: 2,193

TW's: Unintentional Fearplay, Violence, Injury, Mentions of Abduction, Mentions Of Past Abuse, Fear of Death, Profanity, Referring To A Person As An "It", Firearm? (<-Idk if that needs to be tagged but I'll put it there anyways. Nobody gets shot lol...unless)

Characters: C!Tommy, C!Dream, C!Sapnap, C!George, C!Tubbo(mentioned)

Summary: Tommy just barely escapes his imprisonment on an alien spacecraft with his life intact. Now his captors have all fled, leaving him in the hands of the explorers scavenging their ship.

Tommy's hands were clasped over his mouth. Every breath felt too loud so he simply stopped breathing. His teeth ground down into the abused skin of his lip. He didn't stop biting until he tasted copper. These creatures could hear a pin drop in a mosh pit. If he so much as twitched, there was no doubt in his mind that they'd find him.

He'd seen far too many people lose their lives through the careless actions of these freaks, let alone intentional actions. He'd accepted he might never make it home but he would be damned if he wasn't going to let himself be captured before he found Tubbo.

The many foot falls clopped against the metallic tile like hoof beats.

"...empty?"

"...gone..."

"...don't know..."

Those were the only words he could make out. Their every phrase was flanked by gibberish. He had no idea why they spoke in broken English. You'd think aliens would have their own languages. After all the time he'd spent with them, he still had a lot to learn.

Not that he wanted to. If given the option, he would give up on the educational venture immediately.

Air. Right. He'd forgotten he'd needed that. He drew in a deep, much needed breath against his own volition. He found solace in knowing that his own body was conspiring against him. The footsteps that had begun to retreat paused. Like they were hesitating.

Trembling fingers gripped Tommy's cheeks like the jaws of a bear trap in hopes that if he held on long tight enough, he could stop any sounds from escaping his lips. Some part of him knew that it wouldn't work but a larger part of him-likely the one running on half an hour of sleep, an empty stomach, and primal fear-really didn't care.

A voice called out a slew of words he didn't understand. Probably a threat. He was getting pretty good at identifying those of late.

Please leave. Please just go away. There's nobody important in here, Tommy pled silently.

At least, there wasn't anymore. Something happened that sent everyone running. The others he was taken with were stored for relocation or disposed off if they seemed like dead weight. He had enough dumb luck to be trapped on an operating table when it all went to shit.

Nobody thought to even look for him. By the time he'd escaped his restraints, everyone was gone. He'd been stupid enough to take his sweet time locating an exit or something that might provide him with some notion of where exactly he was.

The footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Tommy waited until he heard a door shut to start breathing again. He peeked around the odd lever he'd claimed as a hiding spot. The room looked empty enough. Good. He just needed a little more time in there and then he'd made his grand escape.

He returned to the touch screen. It flickered to life as he tapped the small, red button beside it. As a denizen of earth, screens happened to be his area of expertise. There were a couple words on the display but they weren't written in any language that Tommy recognized beyond the odd A, T, and Y.

It didn't matter. Pictures spoke a thousand words and, lucky for Tommy, the images splayed out before him were in HD quality. He scrolled around what he had to assume was a diagram. If the blue was where he currently was, he just had to find out where Earth was in relation. At least that way he actually had an exit strategy when he found Tubbo.

The planets weren't familiar so he moved onto the next cluster. He'd stupidly assumed that Earth would be the same size as all the celestial bodies on the map but the moment he recognized Jupiter, everything began to click into place.

Giant aliens, giant planets. It made some semblance of sense.

He zoomed into the solar system to the best of his abilities. He ignored the nausea rolling in his stomach at the realization of just how infinitesimal the solar system was in comparison to all the others. There was Earth. It was marked with some kind of red label he had yet to see on any other planet. He was too busy reveling in the fact that he'd actually locating home to worry about what that meant.

Home was far.

Very, very far.

So far, it made Tatooine look like our next door neighbor in comparison.

He was so caught up in trying to plot out the exact course from the blue icon to Earth that he failed to hear the door slide open behind him. Failed to notice the drum of steady boots against the floor. Failed to realize he was no longer alone until he felt the goosebumps creeping up his arms.

Every hair stood on end. Like he was about to be struck by lightning. Given that they didn't have thunderstorms within the spaceship, he had a pretty good idea of what the exact cause of the reaction was. He froze up entirely as the silhouette ingulfed him.

Shit.

He slowly turned to face his death without the usual level of cowardice he operated on.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have turned around at all. He should have just stood there and waited for his inevitable fate to befall him. But he had to know what was going to be responsible for taking his life.

All he saw was a blank slate. A white metal so shiny that he could see his own reflection staring back at him in fear. There weren't even eye holes. If this thing was alive, it obviously didn't prioritize vision. And yet, Tommy could somehow feel its eyes on him all the same.

It was in a black uniform that resembled a tracksuit, a sleek firearm aimed directly at Tommy's forehead. It didn't look like any gun Tommy had ever seen and yet something in the back of his mind still identified it as a weapon. A threat. He swallowed thickly, holding his hands up in surrender as though it would make a difference.

It stood there a moment, frozen in place. It tilted its head curiously before lowering the hefty gun back down at its side. Tommy let out a heavy sigh, warily retreating back a step. The creature's focus was no longer on him. It leaned overtop him to get a better look at the screen behind him.

It raised a hand that donned a fingerless glove. It tapped a blunt nail against the graphic of Earth.

"...you..." was the only word he understood. After receiving no response it tapped again to emphasize a point Tommy couldn't comprehend.

Its head turned back to him, staring at him expectantly. Tommy only stood there, petrified, as he gawked up at the looming figure. After a moment of waiting, it sighed and yanked a small, metal device from its pocket. It almost looked like a phone but thinner and more square than rectangular.

It laid the device out on the panel, clicking a few icons on both screens before tucking it back into the pocket of its pants. Tommy debated on trying to escape while it was distracted but it was pointless. Usain Bolt couldn't outrun these motherfuckers.

"Okay...you...no..." it tried again.

Tommy clenched his eyes shut as it raised a hand. No impact ever came. When he opened his eyes, it was frozen. The mask had grown closer as it leaned in towards him. Its head tilted again. The hand reached towards him again, only this time with far more hesitation. Tommy moved as far away as possible but there was very little room for him to find refuge in.

He was scooped up with jarring ease into a snare of fingers roughly his size. He wriggled about to no avail. His arms were stuck to his sides. The grip was tight. Not suffocating but tight. Possibly tight enough to bruise.

"Come on, man," Tommy whined. His toes curled as his feet left the floor. It held him at what he had to assume was eye-level. "I-I just want to find Tubbo and go home."

"Home," the alien repeated.

"Yes. Home."

Without warning, his body was turned sideways with such speed that he nearly got whiplash. He winced as a cool fingers prodded at his temple. That's where they were operating before they all fled to who knows where. It muttered a slew of foreign vocabulary as it studied whatever would was left open due to his own, blatant negligence.

He'd been too busy to address whatever funky alien experiments they'd done on his head. Not time to worry about whatever gashes they'd left behind from their botched dissection. He drew in a hissing breath through his teeth as it pressed just a bit too hard. The offending digits retreated immediately.

After a few more seconds of consideration, it seemed to make up its mind.

Tommy clung to consciousness as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The entire journey he spent imprisoned within chilled flesh left him with terrible motion sickness. The walk was long but at least it brought him out of the spacecraft.

The world around him was...bizarre.

The ground was the wrong color, the sky was the wrong color, and every bit of flora was the wrong shape. It looked like he was in the middle of the woods with trees looking like something straight out of a Dalí painting.

Yet another ship was waiting just beyond the last one. This one was a hell of a lot smaller than his previous ride but it still dwarfed him nonetheless. Painted silvery color with a white staircase protruding out the side.

Another alien was waiting there, leaning against the ship with its arms folded across its chest. At least this one had a face. One that lit up upon seeing his captor approach. Literally. A bizarre illumination flooded its skin.

It looked apt to say something but closed its mouth with a click when it spotted Tommy. Its grey eyes flickered a bright yellow. Like fireflies.

"...is...?" it asked.

"...planet...the screen...hiding..." the faceless creature rambled.

The glowy creature bent at the waist to get closer to eye level with Tommy as he was brought closer. The alien squinted at him. Curiosity brewed in its flickering eyes. Tommy could feel the heat radiating off it. It was such a welcome change of pace from the icy fingers he was held in that he almost felt disappointed when it pulled away.

It let out a soft coo before starting up the staircase. The metal-faced creature gave one final glance over its shoulder before starting after its companion. Tommy flinched at every foreign whirr and click from the ship around him. The stairscase folded up behind him, leaving him sealed within the confines of the metal coffin.

No. No. No!

He didn't have time for this! He'd only just found out where he was. If these douchebags were taking him somewhere else, they'd spoil his only chance to ever find his way back to Earth!

He growled. Before he could talk himself out of it, his head snapped down. His teeth snagged on the tender flesh encasing him. The alien let out a choked sound. He could feel the fingers instinctively loosening around him before tightening once again.

Too tight.

Tommy's teeth dislodged from the digit, taking a smatter of blue liquid with him. He let out sharp cry of pain. The fist fell apart around him. The plummet was unceremonious but short. It didn't help that the only thing to break his fall was hard material akin to plastic. The impact rattled his very bones.

The faceless creature inspected its injured finger a moment. Tommy flinched so hard when its focus returned to him that he nearly pulled a muscle. It failed its hands about in exasperation.

"You...I...help..."

Tommy scooched backwards on what he'd begun to assume was a table. That fact didn't exactly instill hope in him. He raked bruised fingers through messy, blonde locks. The creature groaned.

"...to..." the glowy alien said, seemingly materializing out of thin air. The ship hummed all around him. The feeling he'd begun to identify as take-off only served to sicken him further. The pair had seemingly had enough of trying to communicate with him and turned their attention to one another.

"...maybe..."

"I...if...ask..."

"...don't...help...could..."

"...won't..."

He didn't like this. Not at all. They were too close. They weren't leaving enough room to breathe. Prime, was there even any oxygen on that ship? What if there wasn't? What if there was no air at all. He was suffocating. He'd choke on his own lack of air. Slowly. Agonizingly. He was going to do. He was going-

"Hey!"

A new voice jarred him from his panicked stupor.

A figure stalked into the room with an eerie grace to its stride. A pair of sapphire eyes locked onto Tommy. Slitted pupils tracked his every breath. Pointed, chestnut ears twitched atop its head, a tail languidly sweeping the floor.

Tommy's jaw nearly dropped open.

Giant. Space. Cat.

#mcyt g/t #g/t writing #g/t angst #giant/tiny #hurt/comfort...eventually #fluff...at some point #unintentional fearplay #accidental fearplay #fear of death #intergalactic abductees au

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ruporas · 7 months

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happiness today and tomorrow (ID in alt)

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun maximum #trigun #ruporas art #hello here's another vw dump wraughh everyday i think about them being embarrassing infatuated w each other #it's like... at some point i must stop and look away... their love is too bright too dangerous.... but i will not... and neither will the #sidenote on the first comic - i drafted it bc im annoying about vash finding wolfwood lovely in simple ways but bc he's so restrained #in his thoughts those compliments dont usually come out. and when they do - bc he thinks about it so often - i think it'd come out bluntly #like. factual in tone as opposed to his inner deep exploding feelings about ww. only when he's pried deeper - prompted to expand #On these feelings does he get shy lmfao.... and bc it's simple complimentary words ww would take it casually in stride #dip him then call him cute and Maybe he'll get shy (pondering)#as u can see all i do is think about the fluff rn. tragedy where!

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ryukatters · 6 months

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9:18 PM — s. geto ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

content: fluff, friends to lovers, sort of self-ship coded, reader dates (shitty) men

pairing: suguru geto x gn! reader

a/n: got suguru on da brain rn. my first work for him! hello geto nation how we doin?? also i had to fight my autocorrect bc it kept changing geto to ghetto 😔

“Surely, you must lack respect for yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me," your best friend scoffs.

It's not uncommon for you to end up at Suguru's doorstep, teary-eyed and sputtering after another failed attempt at romance. But he's hardly ever this mean.

"What's so great about these guys? Tell me."

"They're...nice."

He sighs out your name in exasperation. He never uses that tone on you, ever. "You're literally miles out of their league. And they can't even afford to pay for both of your meals. How many times have you had to pick up the check for you and your date?”

You open your mouth to retort but wisely keep it shut. Suguru merely raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly. How can someone be ugly and broke? Then still have the audacity to reject you? Pick a struggle."

"Well excuse me, mister 'I don't need dating apps because everyone just comes to me.' Not everyone is as fortunate as you are when it comes to romantic prospects."

You're starting to question why you even came here in the first place. Indignation fills you as you slump down on Geto's couch, utterly defeated.

He sits down next to you, placing a gentle hand on your knee with an even gentler look in his eyes. Your best friend's always been so kind, so thoughtful. That, paired with the fact that he's pretty easy on the eyes makes it easy to understand why he has suitors flocking from left and right.

"Hey," he calls out, giving your knee a light squeeze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"'s fine."

"No, it's not. It was insensitive of me.”

You know what else isn't fine? Geto wants to ask. The fact that you don't know what kind of guy you deserve. He wills himself to keep quiet, for both of your sakes.

"Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something. That you have some karmic lessons you need to learn and all that. You say that all the time."

"I don't know. Maybe...maybe love just isn't in the cards for me, Suguru. I mean, what else could all of this mean?"

You sniffle, and Suguru can feel his heart break into a million little pieces. He wants nothing more than to scoop up the shards and present them to you, in hopes that you can somehow press them back together to make it whole again. The same way you always come running back to him, the same way you trust him to mend your own heart time after time with gentle praise and reassurance.

"Maybe every heartbreak is just bringing you closer to 'the one,’" he offers, the hand that was previously on your knee now rubbing comforting circles on your back.

"Do you honestly believe in that shit, Suguru?" He doesn't blame you for being so cynical. He would be too, he thinks.

"I do," he professes without missing a single beat.

"How?" Not why, but how? How could he possibly understand? How would he know if fate's thrown his so-called one and only his way?

"Because I've felt it," he hums.

“You… have?” You’re not sure why you feel so disappointed all of a sudden. Why should you care if your best friend’s in love with someone?

“Why do you feel the need to look so far for love?” He counters.

“I…”

“Why don’t you try looking at what’s right in front of you for a change?”

That’s about as far as Suguru’s willing to lay it out for you— he hopes you can read in between the lines. Call it insurance— a way for him to spare his own feelings in case you decide he’s unworthy of your affection and toss him to the side of the road.

“Suguru, I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say…”

Yes, you do. Suguru wants to say. Just think a little harder.

There’s a pregnant pause.

When he realizes that you’re unwilling to take another step forward, he figures he needs to just take the leap. Fuck the insurance. He needs to do as he says and prove to you that the trail of heartbreak behind you is all going to be worth it. Because you have him. Suguru can only hope that his love will be more than enough to heal you from a lifetime's worth of pain.

“Give me a chance,” he whispers, his hands enveloping yours as he brings them up to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “Please. I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated, how you deserve to be loved.”

You gasp, unsure how to receive such a confession— especially one from Suguru, nonetheless. The two of you stay frozen for what seems like an eternity. You— afraid, inexperienced with being on the receiving end of anything remotely romantic. Suguru— tense, confession lying heavy in the room. It weighs down his soul with each passing moment he’s not yours.

“Please,” he pleads, feeling the way your hands tremble in his. Or was it the other way around?

Fear begins to gnaw at Suguru’s insides, thoughts of losing you plaguing his mind as he wills himself to stay calm. He wants nothing more than to shrink into himself— until he hears you speak, tone light and teasing.

“Promise you won’t make me pay for our dinner on our first date?”

Suguru allows himself to let out a genuine chuckle, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#suguru at some point probably: alexa play you belong with me (taylor's version)#originally written for g*jo but suguru deserves to be in the spotlight too #kat's writing #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #geto x reader #getou x reader #getou x you #geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru fluff #geto fluff #suguru geto fluff

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steddielations · 1 year

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It's just another boring day running the store, even more boring than normal since Robin’s out sick. There’s not any kids around either, the beanbags by the bookshelves have been empty all day.

Steve’s working his shift alone. It’s all very mundane, just waiting for the clock to run out. That is, until the door flies open.

It’s just a flash of black clothing and the clinking of metal accessories as the figure suddenly barrels right over the counter. Steve shouts and immediately reaches for the nail bat— yes the nail bat— he keeps behind the register. He brandishes it menacingly as the person stands upright.

It’s a man, with crazy wild hair and even crazier eyes, widening comically at the bat and holding his hands up. He squawks at Steve.

“Whoa, hey! What is that thing?! What the hell, man!?”

“Don’t ‘what the hell’ me, I’m the one what the helling you here!” Steve snaps back.

“What!”

“Just tell me what you think you’re doing here, punk!”

Something like disbelief comes over his face, and he lowers his hands to gesture over himself, “Dude, I’m clearly a metalhead.”

“I’m gonna put some metal in your head if you don’t start talking,” Steve snarls, gripping the bat tighter.

“Okay, okay!” His hands flail, shifty eyes bugging out the front windows before he suddenly crouches down behind the counter, “Just let me hide out here for a minute, there’s— people after me that I can’t deal with right now.”

“Oh yeah, what 'people’?” Steve narrows his eyes at the expensive looking chain dangling around his neck, some kind of red pendant on it, “Did you get caught stealing from the jewelry store next door?”

Again, he gives that look, not the typical guilty look when Steve chases down the usual petty thief, he just looks like he can’t believe he’s in this situation, as if he’s not the one that hopped over the counter.

“I didn’t steal anything, alright? I just need to wait here until it’s all clear.”

“Mr. Simon is chasing you, isn’t he?” Steve groans, lowering the bat to rub his hand over his face. He hates that old jeweler, always complaining about Steve taking his parking space when he doesn’t even have a car to use it. “Christ, okay. He might have a war flashback and actually kill you, and I already have enough shit on my conscience. You got two minutes.”

“Five?”

“One and a half.”

“Okay, Jesus. Two please and I’ll let you have a picture after, whatever you want.”

Steve thinks it’s a weird thing to offer at first, then it clicks.

“Yeah, I do want a picture ‘cause your ass is going on the banned wall,” Steve points the bat to the array of photos on the back wall, right up there with the little pricks that kept asking what shelf the skin mags were on, and the asshole that was rude to Robin once.

The guy looks over and he… chuckles, “Starting to think I picked the wrong counter to hide behind.”

Steve glares when he’s met with the stranger’s smile, “You think?”

“The rainbows in the window caught my eye, thought they were pretty cool,” he gives Steve a kind, but measured look, “I’m assuming the bat is for people who don’t?”

That rocks Steve a little. The subtle touches of rainbow decorating the storefront were Robin’s idea, just a welcoming sign for those who know what it means, who need it. Which, apparently, is this guy too, dark eyes watching as Steve makes the connection.

Plus, the kind of kids that get off the bus and hang out in the beanbag corner of the bookstore, also tend to be the type that bullies flock to, but not here, Steve makes sure of that. Not with the nail bat, that’s for things more serious than school bullies.

“Is that who’s after you?” Steve asks, shooting a look out the window. His gut starts to twist in some form of empathy for the guy, it would make sense why he hurtled inside so quickly.

“No, nothing like that, but I still need to lay low for a second.”

Steve squints, empathy gone.

“Okay well, the bat is for thieves too, then. You know, Mr. Simon might be a mean old shit, but he doesn’t deserve to be stolen from. He’s got a family, dude.”

“Well, isn’t that admirable. Look, I appreciate what you’re doing here, the whole local protector, vigilante bat-man thing, it’s pretty badass,” A pun. This would-be thief really just made a damn pun about Steve’s would-be murder weapon. “But I didn’t take anything from anyone, Stevie boy.”

Pun forgotten, Steve grips the bat tighter, demanding to know, “How do you know my name?”

Another annoying smile as the guy gestures to his chest, where Steve’s name tag is. Right.

“Tell me yours,” he counters, noticing how the guy’s smile falters, looking hesitant, crouching lower, hiding. Steve sighs, “I’m not gonna go to the cops, man. Your face is going on the wall and your name is going on the list.”

This guy is just smirking way too much for someone in his situation, “Wow, I must be real special then. It’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

“Okay then, Munson,” Steve narrows his eyes at the necklace again, “If you didn’t take anything, then where’d you get that chain, huh?”

This Eddie looks caught off guard, his mouth already formed into some excuse that Steve cuts off.

“Just hand it over,” he flourishes the bat this time, satisfied with how Eddie looks both impressed and intimidated. His eyes stay on Steve as he removes the necklace, dark and alive with something, like he’s enjoying this somehow.

“Okay fine, easy with that thing, big boy. You can keep it for now as collateral for letting me stay.”

He passes Steve the chain, and Steve doesn’t want to fuss with his jean pockets so he just slips it over his head, Eddie’s eyes tracking where it falls around his neck. He sees it’s not a pendant like he thought, it’s a red guitar pick resting against his chest. Not Simon’s usual merchandise, but the chain definitely is, it’s expensive, Steve can tell.

“But, as good as it looks on you, I’m gonna need it back when you realize it’s not stolen.”

Annoyance. That’s the flare of heat Steve feels, it has to be, this whole exchange is getting him hot under the collar. He obviously knows Eddie’s hitting on him, not the first time he caught someone up to no good, and they clocked the rainbows and tried to flirt their way out of it. And this guy isn’t bad looking, maybe under different circumstances in a nice bar somewhere, Steve would flirt right back, but he’s not falling for it now.

He’s glad the couple minutes are up, doesn’t know why he checks out the windows to make sure it’s all clear for Eddie.

Bat still in hand, he makes Eddie stand while he fishes out the polaroid camera behind the counter.

“Don’t you want to get in the photo?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s free hand snaps to his hip, “And why would I want that?”

“Right,” Eddie grins, sticking out his tongue when Steve holds up the camera, throwing up that same hand sign that Dustin keeps making nowadays when the flash goes off. “No fun kissin’ a picture of yourself. Or, maybe it is when you look like you do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Playing cute with me isn’t gonna get you off the hook,” and sits the newly printed polaroid on the counter, ignoring the way his cheeks feel hot. It’s just the adrenaline coming down.

He finally puts the bat away, still watching warily as Eddie comes closer, picking up a pen and scribbling what looks to be his phone number on the photo.

“Gotta say, this was nice, Steve. I’d love to do it again sometime,” he smirks, hopping back over the counter the same way he came, “I mean it though, give me a call about that necklace. What kinda rockstar would I be without my lucky guitar pick?”

“Yeah right,” Steve snorts, “I don’t wanna catch you around here again. I never forget a face, Munson, especially not yours.”

“I’m flattered,” he pats his hand over his heart, then throws Steve a wave as he pushes open the door, “Keep that up and you can call me anytime.”

One last wink that sort of makes Steve’s chest flutter and he’s gone. It’s nothing, just some crazy guy that annoyed him half to death, and he hopes he never sees again.

When his shift ends later that evening, he goes next door to try and return the necklace to Mr. Simon, but he insists that it wasn’t stolen from his shop.

Steve’s starting to think he may have accidentally robbed someone at nail-bat-point. But it’s not possible because that’s not possible. How do you accidentally rob someone? What crime would he even be charged with? A little oopsie burglary? Ridiculous.

No, the old man is just out of his mind and doesn’t recognize his own shit. It’s the only thing that would make sense in that whole bizarre situation. Who else would Eddie have been ‘hiding’ from? Why else was it so urgent that he handed over the necklace without much fuss?

It’s not until days later when Dustin hops onto the counter that Steve really realizes.

“Steve,” Dustin says slowly, “Why am I looking at a picture of Eddie freaking Munson on the banned wall?”

Steve looks around, “That guy? You know him? I caught him stealing from Mr. Simon the other day.”

“You— He— What!? He was here?” Dustin sputters, “Steve, I’m 1000% sure he wasn’t stealing shit! What did you do to him?”

“I did my job, Henderson. I banned him from the store and got back the necklace he took— What— Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Steve.”

It’s over the course of the next conversation, getting completely chewed up and spit out by Dustin that Steve learns he didn’t just accidentally rob someone.

“STEVE.”

He accidentally robbed a world famous rockstar.

Steve spends the next few days so deeply embarrassed that he can’t even dare to pick up the phone. He gave Eddie such a hard time when all he needed was a place to hide out so he didn’t get mobbed by fans and paparazzi.

Looking back on it, knowing what he knows now, Eddie handled it with such grace. Steve’s even more ashamed, not because of the whole rockstar thing, but because it's shitty to hurl accusations and a deadly nail bat at anyone, and take their stuff on top of that.

He finally bolsters up the courage to dial the number. As soon as he hears ‘what’s up, it’s Munson’ on the other line, he lets loose a string of apologies and a promise to give the necklace back as soon as he can.

It gets cut short with that same chuckle that still gives him a warm chill even down the phone line.

“Keep it. Looks better on you,” he can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice, “But that means you’re gonna have to come to my show tonight. Can’t play without my lucky guitar pick, can I?”

#and that’s steve’s meet cute gone wrong with his rockstar boyfriend #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #steddie fic #famous eddie munson #steddie ficlet #bookstore owner steve #eddie munson headcanon #my fics #steve harrington headcanon #rueswriting #steddie headcanon #steddie fanfic #stranger things #meet cute #maybe i’ll fluff this up into a full fic at some point who knows

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fcthots · 7 months

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thinking abt wearing jason's initial on a necklace but in a taylor swift kind of way

-🕷️

THIS THIS THIS CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

I WANT TO WEAR HIS INITIAL ON A CHAIN ROUND MY NECK CHAIN ROUND MY NECK NOT BC HE OWNS ME BUT CAUSE HE REALLY KNOWS ME WHICH IS MORE THAN THEY CAN SAY-

ANYWAy

Here's the thing about the fucking press, since the moment they found out Jason was alive, they've never let him breathe. Your relationship went public against your will only two months after he was declared legally alive. Since then the opinion on your relationship had fluctuated. Sometimes there were fan accounts and other times you were sent death threats. Jason did what he could, but he couldn't stop everything.

The worst that happened was when you went with some friends. It was just dinner on a balcony at a nice restaurant. Jason had gone to some concert with one of his siblings. To be honest, you were too drunk to remember which. You were out with three friends two of you were drunk. The birthday boy doesn’t like to drink, but he gave the ok for everyone else. One other friend stayed sober and offered to be the designated driver.

You're solidly drunk. Drunk enough to actually be excited to take pictures. Drunk enough to be laughing the whole time. Drunk enough to try to call your cat on the phone.

Either way, you're singing happy birthday while your friends are taking pictures so you lean over to kiss the birthday boy's cheek and tell him "HappsyBirthay!" He laughs and thanks you. It's a good time. Your other drunk friend kisses him on the other cheek and takes a picture of it on his phone. It's cute. It's fun. But it is 11:30 pm and time to go home.

You're about to get in the designated driver's car when he asks for your address. You don’t invite people over much, what with Jason having to go on patrol and bloody bats dropping in. You're also drunk enough to not know your address. "That's a relly diffisult queshion. Do you know the answer?" You look over to the birthday boy; he's been to your apartment a few times to have lunch and feed the cat.

He looks over at the designated driver. "I don’t know the address, but I know to get there... Don't worry about it. I'll take her home."

"We goin home?"

He laughs. "Yeah."

"Holy shit! Is Jason gunna be there?" He puts his arm around your waist to guide you into his car so you don’t fall.

"I don’t know. You said he was going out tonight, but I don’t know if he's back yet." He laughs again and waves goodbye to your other friends before he buckles himself into the driver's seat.

The car ride home is mostly quiet. You're half asleep, and it's not long until your friend is pulling into the parking garage. He taps your shoulder and asks for your key. You don’t know where it is. He asks for your phone. You hand it over, and he asks Siri to call Jason.

Jason picks up after half a ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man. It's me. We're in the parking garage and your wonderful girlfriend is too drunk to find her keys. Any chance you're home."

You hear Jason's voice ask something about articles, news, and pictures before you fall asleep again.

A few minutes pass and someone's calling your name and unbuckling your seatbelt. You look over and see Jason leaning over you.

"J'son!"

"Hey, sweetheart."

"I missd you." He grabs your bag off the floor.

"I missed you too. Hey can you give me your phone?"

You nod your head and hand him the phone.

"I'm gonna pick you up. Ready?"

"Yeah!" He lifts you up while you shout "Weeeee!"

He closes the car with his shoe and turns toward your friend. "Thanks, man. Happy Birthday. Sorry about everything."

"'s no problem. Take care of her. Bye."

You don’t remember much of the elevator ride up or getting in pajamas or getting in bed. But you remember waking up. That wasn't fun.

Jason makes you breakfast, and that in itself isn't out of the ordinary at all, but he's acting weird. Every time you ask for your phone he says "I'll give it to you in a minute."

You can't take it anymore. "Jay, just tell me what happened. You're killing me. Did I post anything dumb while drunk again?"

"No." He sighs and grabs your phone out his pocket before opening up an article. You take your phone from him and read the headline. You feel sick.

"Jason Todd and Girlfriend Broke Up! Finally She's Gone"

You take a bite of eggs off Jason's plate and keep reading.

"Here's the evidence:

"nobody's heard from the couple for months, not even so much as an instagram post from the once vocal couple

"Todd was seen last night at a concert singing his heart out to breakup songs, images below

"and most damning of all: the now would-be ex-girlfriend was spotted last night getting cozy and leaving with new man, exclusive photos below!"

You scroll and see zoomed in photos of you kissing your friend's cheek and getting into his car. You bang your forehead into the counter repeatedly. Jason puts his hand over the spot you're hitting your head against. You look to him and he looks apologetic.

"I'd prefer if you didn’t read the rest. I don’t think Vicki Vale likes you very much. I'm having Bruce sue the company right now."

You try to hit your head into the table again and he grabs your cheek to stop you. He leaves his hand there. This time, you look apologetic.

"I'm sorry. It just makes me upset when people think I don’t love you or that you don’t love me." You meet his eyes and he's smiling.

"I had an idea."

He pulls two small boxes from his pockets and you stop yourself from making a comment about the size of men's pockets. Before you have the time to freak out, questioning what's in the boxes, he opens them. They're necklaces with the initials of your first names. He takes the one with your initial and puts it around his neck. The chain on his is longer than the other one.

"Obviously you don’t have to, I just had a feeling you might want to. I'm not trying to put a brand on you-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'm never taking it off."

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #saph’s thots #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #🕷️ anon #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #Jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader fluff #I stopped beta-ing my stuff at some point. I apologize. I just hate reading my own stuff

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keydekyie · 9 months

Text

"Don't run. Never run. No matter how frightened you are."

"But, then... what can you do? How can one fight... that?"

"Stand your ground. Look them dead in the eye."

"That will stop them?"

"No. But they'll have to live with themselves, and perhaps the next one will be luckier."

#play dead! run downhill and then zig-zag!#try to make yourself look bigger! climb a tree!#I had an idea for a Kellabor-based point-and-click adventure game based on professor Kaminski's research and it got REAL dark REAL fast #monster #animation #listen listen no one likes fluff more than me #but the fluff is MOST fun when it's rising out of the shadows of some real horrifying shit!#show me the horrors!!#the horrors are the flavor you donut!!!#horror #happy vore day everyone har har har #uh I guess I should tag this #tw: vore #tmatb #The Intern

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 9 months

Note

CONGRADULATIONS ON THE 100 FOLLOWERS!!!! Can I request Idia with the stargazing prompt? Can it please be romantic and fluffy? This event is so fun! I hope you have a wonderful day!!☆彡♡ :)

Stargazing; Idia Shroud

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Word Count; 700+

AN; Thank you, Sofia! I hope you enjoy the fluffy Idia! He deserves to not always be a wet cat (affectionate) As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The heat of the day was finally gone. Dew covered the grass. Crickets chirped in the undergrowth. And above you were millions of stars, and visible galaxies and nebulas, not obstructed by decades of light pollution. It was beautiful.

Sitting beside you on the blanket that was spread out to provide a somewhat comfy barrier between you and the ground, was Idia. He had the hood of his sweater tied on tight, as so to hide the fact that his hair was nearly neon pink, and a dead giveaway of how he was feeling. And even though he was out of his comfort zone, he wanted to join you. And he was happy that he did. Yes, he felt nervous, but it wasn’t just because he was out in public — it was because this was a date, an official date. And while the two of you sitting in his room and playing games or watching shows were technically dates, this was the first public one.

“Hey, Idia,” you tugged at his sleeve, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Do you have a favourite constellation? A planet?”

He cleared his throat and hesitantly held your hand in his. His hand shaking the slightest bit. “Not really,” he said quietly looking up to the sky. Well, his head was pointed up, but he wasn’t looking at the countless stars. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye. “And you?”

You hummed, looking up at the unfamiliar sky. “Pluto. It’s a planet from… from back home.”

Idia gently slipped his hand into yours and squeezed it. “I-if you want, you can talk about it,” he internally cringed. He hadn’t stuttered like that since he had truly started feeling comfortable around you.

You squeezed his hand back and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Well, it used to be a planet but then got demoted to a dwarf planet. Which is kind of ironic, seeing that it’s named after the Roman god of the underworld.” You sigh and turn to Idia, whose hood had slipped down, revealing his hair. It was a lovely shade of pastel pink, and it was the entirety of his hair, not just the tips. It cast the both of you in a soft rose light. “... a person people tend to underestimate and judge.”

Idia clamoured to get the hood over his head, but he was stopped by your hand, which gently placed the hood down. Why are they looking at me like I’m the milk bread protag in some cheesy shounen?! He was in his own head, but all of that went away when he felt your hand cup his face.

Idia was similar to Pluto, and not just in the themes of relating to the god of the underworld. For so long, people only saw them as unassuming. But when you get closer, then you can appreciate the beauty and tiny details. Someone that you would stand next to and defend at all costs, even when the rest of the world may say that you shouldn’t, that you should just let it be as is.

“I love you,” you whisper, looking into his gold eyes.

That was the first time you had said that, well, said it out loud. Maybe it was the fact that Idia did something out of his comfort zone for you, maybe it was the setting, or maybe it was something else entirely.

You place your forehead against his. “I love you, Idia Shroud,” you say again, still looking into his eyes.

If Idia’s hair were not already as bright and pink as it could go, it would have gotten brighter, but it was as bright as the sun. But his face was now warm, and he was holding eye contact; even though he wanted to hide. “I-I,” he shut his mouth, took in a deep breath and centred himself. He didn’t want his first time saying the phrase to be stuttered. He wanted it to be perfect. I can do this. “I love you too.”

Shyly, he placed a kiss on your cheek and held eye contact for a few moments before hiding back in his hood. He swore that you were more stunning than all the stars that glittered above.

#dove does events #100 follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x gn reader #decided to make this separate from the starsending event for some reason #idia will now not leave his hoodie; bro used up all his courage points for that move #also yes; reader's favourite planet is pluto; we all pack bonded over the planet #also kinda fitting and not just for the planet name; as pluto has two moons and there are two shroud brothers; idia and ortho #sofia!#idia shroud fluff #also going to beat my laptop next time it autocorrects 'idia' to 'india'

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sparkles-rule-4eva · 2 months

Text

YOU KNOW WHAT???

TIME TO--

"Brothers' Night!"

Click, click, clack, tap.

The familiar sound of his little brother's typing sounded around the corner as Sonic rounded it and made his way into the lab. Tails was zoned completely into whatever he was working on, his eyes glued onto the screen, not even shifting as he tried to reach for his juice box and swiped at empty air twice before he found it and took a sip.

Stifling an amused grin, Sonic wandered closer and leaned an arm on the fox kit's head. "Whatcha doing?"

"Uh . . . making calculations and preparations for an upgrade on the Tornado's integrated drive generator. I want it to be a bit more durable in case of another crash."

"Ah." Sonic stared blankly at the screen, deciding to pretend he knew what that meant. He nudged Tails's shoulder. "Have you eaten today?"

It took Tails a moment to respond. "Yeah, I had lunch, I think."

"You think?"

"Uh huh." Tails started typing again, then squinted at the screen and zoomed in on something.

Sonic frowned thoughtfully.

"So did you hear what Amy and Cream were up to today?" he asked, trying to test something.

"Uh."

"They went camping out in some canyons last night, and they're out hiking today! Amy said we could join them next time!"

"Yeah."

Sonic grinned and shook his head, then glanced at the clock. It was past their normal dinnertime.

In the blink of an eye, he'd rushed off, readied up the living room with blankets, pillows, and a few small tables, then dashed back, scooped his brother into his arms even as he yelped, "Hey—!" ran back to the living room, and dumped him into the couch cushions.

"What gives?" Tails demanded, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. "I was in the middle of—"

"Nope!" Sonic interrupted, striking a pose atop the coffee table. "Break time, lil bro! Or should I say, brothers' night! Complete with a meal of your choice, storytime, board games, maybe a pillow fight, a sleepover, and no screens for the rest of the night!"

"Wh-What?" Tails stammered, looking somewhere between thrilled and horrified. "But what about the integr—"

"Tomorrow, bud!" Sonic hopped onto the couch next to Tails and dragged him in for a noogie. "You, little man, have spent way too much time working in front of screens today. Do you have any idea how bad that is for your eyes? This is an intervention!"

"I suppose . . ." Tails mumbled, but he was grinning. "We haven't done this in forever."

"Precisely why this is a perfect time to do it!" Sonic flipped off the couch and regained his pose on the table, even as Tails protested that he was going to dirty up his living room with the dirt from his shoes.

And so the evening progressed. Tails convinced Sonic to take his shoes off to spare all the blankets and pillows. Tails chose pasta for dinner, and they had mint ice cream for dessert (at least, Tails did; Sonic just had chocolate, since he was a bit sensitive to mint). They played an infuriating game of Monopoly that lasted two and a half hours. Tails won, and Sonic got his revenge by chucking a throw pillow at his brother's face.

It ended up escalating into a full blown pillow fight.

Somehow that turned into a karaoke battle, which then turned into a comedy show by Sonic with lots of sassy commentary from Tails. They made popcorn and stuffed themselves with far too much junk food, until 3 a.m. hit and they found themselves lying around half-buried in the mass of pillows and blankets, each getting more and more loopy as the conversation spiraled.

"Beef can't get sick," Tails found himself mumbling. "Dead meat doesn't get sick."

"I was talking about the possibility of cows turning into zombies, not contaminated lunch meat," Sonic muttered drowsily in response, breaking into a yawn.

"If the zombie cows die, do people still get turned into zombies if they eat them?" Tails asked, his voice muffled as he spoke into a pillow.

"I thought zombies don't die."

"Well, if someone blows them up in a bomb, they'd probably die."

"They'd be disintegrated. And then no one could eat them."

"Or they'd just turn into fiery zombies."

"I don't like zombies. Can we change the subject?"

"You started it."

"No, I was talking about . . . something else entirely. You just thought I said 'beef.'"

"What were you talking about before?"

". . . I forgot."

Slowly, they both lapsed into silence, until both had drifted off to sleep. They slept in till noon the next day, and even though cleanup took a while (neither of them remembered spilling half the popcorn into the couch), neither had any regrets.

Tails had forgotten just how much he loved Brothers' Night, but he was determined never to forget again. And he couldn't thank his big brother enough for dragging him away from his work to do it.

------------------------------------

BWAHAHAHAHAHA Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS DONE FOR THE DAY??? PSYCH!!!

💙💛

I literally just whipped this up on the spot lol. I LOVE DE FLUFF!! Also the late night conversation about zombies and beef was heavily based off a near identical late night conversation I had with some friends at a sleepover a couple weeks ago 😋

Edit: here's the AO3 link

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nsharks · 1 year

Note

i just wanted to say i love your writing so much and i really enjoy following simon and y/n’s relationship! i honestly feel as if you have come up with the most accurate characterization of ghost (through both dialogue and his actions) i have ever read these days and its heart-wrenchingly beautiful to see how he opens up and softens gradually over the course of all these different moments of their relationship. im glad someone else requested the beginning of their relationship (i was curious myself!) but if i could request maybe what y/n’s birthday or an anniversary would look like? what Simon would do as a romantic gesture👀?

simon can be romantic in his own way

You’re almost certain Simon didn’t know it was your one-year anniversary.

Why would he? The date of when he asked (or rather, demanded) that you be his girlfriend wasn’t something the two of you brought up or wrote down in a calendar somewhere.

And he’d been so distracted lately. Didn’t give you the details, but there was some terrorist who had been evading their efforts for almost a year now and sometimes you found him sitting at his desk with a bunch of files, caught up in it all despite being at home.

“The whole point of a break is to not think about work,” you’d tell him, pouting and vying for his attention.

“Hard not to,” he’d grumble and sigh. “You wouldn’t understand, pet.”

So when you do wake up that morning of your anniversary, you’re not surprised that Simon doesn’t mention anything about it. You sort of tiptoe around him, going about your day as usual.

He goes to the gym.

You do some work from home.

There’s a few kisses here and there and he tells you that you look cute today, says he likes the way you’ve put your hair up. But there’s no flowers or breakfast in bed or planned dinner date. Even if he did remember, you couldn’t imagine Simon doing any of those things.

It’s later that evening, when you’ve busied yourself with cleaning up after dinner, that Simon comes up behind you.

You’ve almost forgotten about your anniversary at this point, not willing to get upset about it, when he wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

Dipping his head to the crook of your shoulder, he mutters, “Did ya know that you’ve been mine for a year now?”

Your chest tightens. You nearly drop the plate in the sink. “Oh. Is that so?”

He hums quietly. “A year ago. Do you… did you remember that?”

He sounds almost hesitant. Frowning, you turn around in his arms and place your hands to his chest. “Simon… Of course I remembered. It’s technically our anniversary, you know.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans and clears his throat. “So ya did know, then? I thought you forgot.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “No, I didn’t forget. I thought you forgot.”

“You haven’t said anything ‘bout it.”

“Neither have you!” You almost want to laugh. Instead, you rub your temples and sigh. “We’ve got to get better at communicating.”

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to… do anything for it,” he says slowly. And you realize that you’ve been a bit unfair; of course Simon wouldn’t know. He had never done this sort of thing before and romance isn’t something that comes naturally to him.

You’re about to tell him it’s okay, that it’s your fault, but then he ends up telling you, “But I’ve got something for you.”

The admission is surprising. He got you something? You could count on one hand all the gifts Simon has gotten you during your relationship. You feel your cheeks warm up at the thought, but you don’t have the chance to question him.

“Close your eyes,” he requests, and you feebly comply.

Not able to see, you feel his rough hand grab yours and tug you in the direction of what you’re pretty sure is the bedroom. Once you’re there, he gently guides you to sit on the bed and you hear rummaging around through the closet.

“You can open ‘em, pet.”

And when you do, you see that Simon is standing before you with a small, plain box in his hands.

“It’s not much,” he warns, but already just the sight of him offering this gift to you, his broad shoulders slung in uncertainty, makes you impossibly grateful.

When you open the box, he sits down beside you to explain each item.

First, a rock.

“This is just…” He is huffing under his breath and pointing to it as you hold it in your palm. “Just a fuckin’ rock. But it reminded me of you. I found it when we were stationed in Austria. I know you like the color purple and I just thought… thought ya might like it.”

On this rare occasion, it’s you who is at a loss for words. You close your palm around the rock.

Not sure what you’re thinking, Simon then reaches in the box to pull out a book. The Sun Also Rises. It’s tattered and clearly been thoroughly enjoyed.

“Read this one back when we were in Prague.”

You take the book from his hands and start flipping through the pages, revealing his barely-legible handwriting throughout it.

“Wrote notes in it,” he explains in a murmur. “Marked the things that reminded me of ya. Hemingway is better with words than I am.”

There’s a few other things in the box. Small trinkets that he’d found over months of deployment. Things that he thought you might find interesting. Things that showed you how much you were on his mind during those times apart.

The last thing you find is a framed photo. Moisture growing in your eyes and biting back a smile, you realize that it’s the only picture you two have ever taken together. Simon wasn’t fond of seeing himself in the mirror, let alone in a photo. It was one you managed to sneak in months ago when you both were laying on the couch. He’s got an arm loosely around your neck and you’re wearing the brightest of glows on your cheeks.

“I thought you threw away this picture,” you whisper, flipping the frame around in your hands as if you can’t believe it’s real.

“I kept it in the closet,” he admits. “But I think… well, maybe we should put it up somewhere now.”

You swallow and meet his eyes. “You’re okay with that?”

Simon nods. “I’m okay with that.”

It seems small. A single picture of you together after almost three years, but it’s so much more than that. A statement of his willingness to push past his discomfort, his fears. Displaying his vulnerability in a frame on the wall.

Roses and expensive dinners couldn’t amount to the love you feel from him in this moment. You place the frame back in the box and lift up his mask to kiss him. His mouth is tense for a moment before it slackens against yours and you end up kissing on the bed like teenagers, touching all over each other and discarding clothing as you try to press all inches of your body against his.

Hands ghosting along the curves of your thighs, Simon pulls away to smirk, “Time for you to give me something, yeah?”

You blush. “I didn’t… I’m sorry, I don’t have any gifts.”

“Shh.”

And Simon is soon shoving off his mask, as he did a lot more these days around you, and settling his stubbled jaw between your parted legs, letting his lips and his tongue show appreciation for the anniversary gift waiting for him there.

You fall asleep at some odd hour after he keeps you up all night, marking his love in the form of soft bruises on your skin and a pleasurable ache between your thighs. The next morning (now that Simon knows that you do, in fact, care about the date he first made you his girlfriend), you wake up to find that he’s already made you breakfast and hung up the framed picture in the living room.

#thank you so much!#I’m glad you enjoy the fics #they are fun to write #this is how I imagine simon being romantic #i do imagine him getting you flowers at some point #maybe next anniversary #simon ghost riley x you #cod #simon riley x reader #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #fluff #fem!reader

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stobinesque · 1 year

Text

@steddie-week day 2: fluff | 1.8k words | teen and up

The door to the apartment slammed shut, followed by the jingle-clang of keys landing in the ceramic bowl Robin had made for Steve two years ago.

"Babe?" Steve looked up from the magazine he'd been flipping through and frowned at the stormy expression on Eddie's face.

Eddie barely acknowledged him, just swept past with stomping feet, dropping an absentminded kiss to the top of Steve's head as he made his way into the bedroom. A few moments later Steve heard the telltale thunk and flop of Eddie's bag hitting the ground and the man himself hitting their bed.

Ah, so one of those days.

Steve set down his magazine, folded his reading glasses neatly atop it, and pushed himself up from the couch to make for the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

Eddie wanted to die. Nope, no, he wanted to commit a homicide.

Actually, scratch that, being wanted for murder sucked.

What he wanted was for the world not to be full of a bunch of entitled little shitsacks who had never been taught how to talk to another human being who didn't have a white collar around their neck.

At least his bed was there to support him. The mattress was a little lumpy, sure, but nothing could outmatch the satisfaction of dramatically flinging oneself onto a flat surface after a shity day at work.

The sound of running bath water filtered into Eddie's awareness.

Okay, maybe one thing.

Steve usually allowed him a few minutes to sulk and brood when he got home feeling like shit. Sometimes interacting with any human (even someone he would literally—and nearly did—die for) was just too much.

"Eds?"

"Mmph." Eddie spit some of the hair that had landed in his mouth out, but didn't bother to raise his head more than half an inch off the bed to do so.

Steve chuckled. "Okay, five more minutes—otherwise the water will get too cold. I'm gonna go make us some tea."

Eddie raised an arm and waved vaguely in the direction of Steve's voice in acknowledgement.

He let himself drift for his five minutes to the sound of Steve puttering around the kitchen—grabbing mugs, teabags, the sugar jar—before peeling himself up off the bed when the shrill whistle of the kettle pierced through the relative silence of the apartment. If he wasn't in the bath by the time Steve made it there he'd be in trouble. Which could be fun, but it wasn't what he was in the mood for today.

Eddie stripped off his—itchy, sweaty, suffocating—uniform as he padded over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he went.

~*~*~*~

Steve waltzed back into the bathroom with two steaming mugs in his hand to find Eddie already situated in the tub, knees pulled up under his chin, hair piled up in a messy bun, and one hand dragging lazily across the surface of the water.

Steve set both mugs down on the ground next to the bath. "Hey, baby," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.

"Hi." Eddie's voice was low and subdued.

“Bad day?” Steve asked as he pulled his shirt up and over his head.

Eddie shrugged. “You could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve shucked off his jeans.

Eddie shook his head. “Not much to talk about.”

“Okay.” Steve folded his clothes, set them in a neat stack atop the closed toilet lid, and carefully lowered himself into the bath behind Eddie.

The water was just a touch too hot for his own comfort, but Eddie ran cold and preferred his baths on the scalding warmer side. (Shared showers were a trial. Eddie insisted that Steve was trying to murder him with frostbite. Steve maintained that Eddie was trying to boil the both of them alive.)

Some of the tension had already bled out just from being in the bath. Eddie’s shoulders were no longer curled up around his ears—instead, he was slouched forward into the water.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed a kiss to the patchy birthmark high up on his back, smiling when Eddie responded with a humming little sigh. “Wash my hair?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Eds.”

Steve reached over to grab the shampoo and tiny bucket they left in the shower just for this. “Wanna drink some of your tea before I douse you?”

Eddie didn’t say anything, but reached out blindly to grab one of the steaming mugs next to the tub. Steve didn’t bother holding back a snort that he’d managed to grab the “Don’t Bother Me, I’m Crabby” mug they’d nicked from Wayne.

Eddie took a slow sip of the tea, and the second he’d set it back down and straightened back up, Steve dumped a bucket of warm water over his head.

Eddie spluttered. “Babe, what the fuck!”

Steve snickered from behind him. “Just wanted to make sure you were here on earth with me, bedhead.”

Eddie shook his head like a rain-soaked dog. “You could have at least taken out the ponytail first!”

“I suppose I could have,” Steve said, lips twitching up into a smile as he reached up to start pulling Eddie’s dark curls from where they’d gotten tangled in the hair tie. “I got you talking again in something other than a monotone, though.”

“Maybe I was enjoying playing the dark, broody hero.”

Steve pinched Eddie’s side, which resulted in a high-pitched squeak, and a wild flail that had water splashing up around them. "Behave," Steve chastised—though the warning was undercut by the laugh of unconcealed delight he barked out as Eddie’s arms swung around him.

"You're the one assaulting me in my time of suffering!"

"Suck it up, buttercup,” Steve shot back, combing his fingers through wet curls and gently detangling each and every knot he ran into. He couldn't help but rub the silky-soft strands between his fingers as he went. Steve's own day had been slow and uneventful, but a quiet sort of unease had been hovering at the edges for hours. Drawing Eddie a bath and settling in behind him to wash his hair helped settle Steve back into his body just as much as it did for Eddie.

Steve began working shampoo into Eddie's roots, massaging his fingers into his scalp, and Eddie's head tipped back as he let out a pleased hum that sounded almost like a purr. "Love your fingers in my hair, Stevie," he mumbled, sounding a bit hazy.

"Yeah? Is that the only place you like my fingers?" Steve asked, right into Eddie's ear.

Eddie scrambled back upright and turned to face Steve with an alarmed expression on his face. "No! Why would you think that? Did I say something to make you think that? Please, I’m so sorry, baby. Please know that I love your fingers anywhere on me. Or in me. What if they went somewhere else right now?"

Steve laughed, grabbing Eddie's shoulder to turn him back around with one hand, and dipping the bucket back into the water to rinse the suds out of Eddie's hair with the other. When Steve was sure he'd thoroughly rinsed Eddie's hair he leaned past him to grab the conditioner and whisper in his ear, "You can get them somewhere else a little later if you're good for me, baby," before leaning back and clicking the bottle open.

"I'll be so good for you, Stevie. Just tell me what I gotta do."

"Keep still and don't sass me for the next five minutes."

Eddie's mouth opened and then immediately snapped back shut as he clearly decided that whatever his response to that was gonna be probably qualified as "sass."

"Good boy," Steve said simply, dropping another kiss to Eddie's back.

"I can be good when I wanna be," Eddie grumbled.

"Careful," Steve shot back, gently chiding. He methodically worked the conditioner through Eddie's hair in sections, tugging gently as he did, just for the soft satisfaction that ran through him every time Eddie let out a soft gasp in response to it.

"Always careful, Stevie," Eddie mumbled back, eyes fluttering shut.

Steve reached down to brush one hand over the scars running down Eddie's side. "Not always," he whispered, just a little sadly, as he pressed a firm kiss to the mostly-faded ring of scars at his throat.

"Mm, don't be sad, baby."

"Not sad. Just glad you're alive."

Eddie was quiet for a stretch, and Steve chuckled.

"What? What were you gonna say, asshole?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, love," Eddie replied, all faux innocence.

"You were gonna say something sassy just then, that's why you went all quiet. So, out with it, come on. How were you gonna sass me in response to me saying I'm glad you're alive?"

"Promise you won't hold it against me?"

"Yeah, baby." Steve leaned over to press a kiss to Eddie’s nose. "This one's a freebie."

Eddie looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, and a twinkle in his eye. "I was gonna call you a sap."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, fuck me for being happy my boyfriend's alive I guess."

"I was actually hoping that you would fuck me," Eddie replied.

"You're pushing your luck, Eds," Steve warned, yanking lightly at his hair.

"Sorry, baby."

Steve ran his hands up and down the sides of Eddie's arms. "All forgiven, Eds."

Steve let his hands drift as he waited for the conditioner to rest—digging his fingers into the dense coils of muscle in Eddie's neck, smoothing his palms down the ridges of Eddie's spine, ghosting his hands up Eddie's sides. When time was up, he grabbed the bucket, turned on the tap to fill it with clean, warm water, and spilled it over Eddie’s head. Steve combed his fingers through the chestnut locks again, making sure he’d thoroughly rinsed them once more. The two of them fell still and silent, like two little stones in the river bed.

Steve loved this. The quiet trance they fell into, as Eddie relaxed into the water, and Steve pressed kisses into his lover’s skin, and they both forgot the mugs of tea that Steve made.

Steve separated Eddie’s hair into even sections, savoring the feeling of freshly cleaned locks passing through his fingers as he wove the strands together—over-under, over-under, over-under—and plaited Eddie’s hair down the length of his back. When he was done, he flipped the end of the braid back over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie leaned further into him, pressing the length of his back against Steve’s chest.

Steve let his hands start wandering, and Eddie let out a soft gasp of surprise when the pads of Steve's thumbs brushed over both nipples. "Steve."

"Shh, I got you baby," Steve murmured, and let one hand drop down to where Eddie was stiffening up beneath the water.

"I know you do, Stevie," Eddie whispered back on a sigh and a gasp. "I know you do."

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #was hoping to get this up just before day 2 ended in my timezone but instead we're just past #i just threw this together today because the image of steve braiding eddie's hair popped into my head #may or may not throw this up on ao3 later #idk if i will do anything for the other days #(I did start something for day one which I may post late or separately at some point)#also it must be noted that the ceramic bowl is a mangled attempt at mimicking one of the scoops ahoy hats #and abandoning mugs of tea is something lifted from my own real life and partner lol #read writes

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jojo-schmo · 1 year

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Sworn Partners at their weekly Dreamland protection strategy meeting

#-coughs up sugar packets- I am on some kind of sweet fluffy ship streak these days oh my lord #I never EVER thought id get to the point where id pubicly post fluff let alone this often but here we are. HERE WE ARE.#HAPPY BIRTHDAY META KNIGHT #sorry I didn't have anything more substantial prepared but alas I am a desk sitter with woefully little free time #so i made sure he got kissed instead #someday I will be able to make actual art pieces about these characters #but for now i humbly offer these drabbles instead #i said to myself the other day “be the metadede you want to see in the world” so I just make them smooch a bunch #hope that's cool with yall #meta knight #king dedede #metadede #kirby series

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adrift-in-thyme · 12 days

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Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy

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It is a quiet night.

Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.

The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience.

Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.

Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake.

It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.

Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed.

He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.

Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.

So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter.

He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.

He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind.

He is safe here.

The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.

You are safe here.

Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.

“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him.

Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.

“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water.

“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”

There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”

There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees.

“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.

Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.

“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”

“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”

“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”

If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers?

“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”

The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength.

“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”

“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”

Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why.

But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch.

He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.

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