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steviewashere · 2 days

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Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It’s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one.

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I’d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw referenced rape/non-con #read the content warnings #asexual steve harrington

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yuurivoice · 3 days

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Not to tell you how to do your job or anything, and I don't think it's the audience's place to give suggestions when this is YOUR profession, it's just a small idea that occured to me.

But maybe in the upcoming Auron audio you could add a little note on the screen saying that new Auron content is coming soon, and then like do the same with future compilation videos, since they tend to do so well!! Like to let people know that if they like the characters, this is not where the story ends at all and they should stick around. I say this mainly cause I remember you once talked about how the major numbers on the Finn compilation didn't translate to a major increase in subscribers. Really hope this didn't come off as rude, I just think maybe if people think the compilations are the ENTIRE story it might not occur to them to subscribe!

It also might yield no results at all, idk. I just remember I didn't subscribe until multipleeee videos had been recommended to me over MONTHS, mainly because I had no idea that there was a story to be followed.

I've written like three different responses to this but as I yap on I get new conclusions and ideas. This is v3 of my answer lmfao.

Preface: People don't pay attention to shit and unless you are clever or use a hammer, they do not care. They want the content. ESPECIALLY if they aren't familiar with you. This makes any deliberate Calls to Action run the risk of annoyance rather than making a meaningful impact on conversions.

Bonus note: If a video is scheduled to premiere, there's nothing I can add to it at this point without doing a whole reupload, giving Thoo a bunch of extra work, and all that shit. So that wasn't ever an option anyway.

My approach in this current iteration of how I do things is that rather than slob on somebody's knob begging for a sub, they're encouraged to either watch more videos or go to the homepage. My working hypothesis is that you're actually MORE likely to get a curious viewer to drop by your homepage before they subscribe, because they want to see what else is available.

The most recent changes I made to the channel homepage should make it abundantly clear that there are multiple stories, characters, and styles of content to jump into. Making sure that the homepage is great has probably made a massive difference in that regard, without impacting the videos themselves.

Playlists are horribly underutilized in this niche in particular, and on lots of YouTube channels really. So I made sure to try and nail that down. Still need to get the channel trailer locked in but tbh I don't know how effective those really are in 2024.

All of that being said, a ~15 second welcome intro at the start that explains what the compilation is and invites viewers to sub/explore the playlists would probably be the easiest way to accomplish that without intruding on the listening/viewing experience in a way that feels desperate or pander-y. That in conjunction with the end screen prompt would probably be the easiest way to do it.

I don't feel like that immediately turns massive hit videos into untapped wells of subscribers that I missed out on, it could help contextualize things a little more and who knows, maybe it WOULD be a big deal. Hard to say!

The context for me not immediately being like OH IT'S A SLAM DUNK HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THIS is because I run a very lucrative business converting viewers to patrons and I have very minimal in-video notes about hearing the spicy bits on Patreon. People often figure things out for themselves if they're motivated enough, and you run the risk of chasing them off if you come across like a desperate ass hoe. lmfao

I appreciate the ask, but also can assure you that I've spent several hours mulling over these very specific issues and I've considered just about every angle. If I had included every little detail and wrinkle of information I was cooking up in the various iterations of this answer it would be a mile long. So trust me. I've thought about it in great detail, have worked with people on it, workshopped things and much more!

Y'all got me yappin' up a storm on here lately. lmfao

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uncanny-tranny · 7 months

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Hey, if you have speech impediments, you are so amazing.

If you stutter or have a lisp or misspeak easily or you have a flat affect or a limited verbal vocabulary or if your voice is AAC or if you just have a difference in your vocality, you are so incredibly important and amazing.

Just know that your voice is yours. Nobody will ever be able to truly take it away. Your voice is part of you, and you deserve to make it as true to you as you deem fit. I hope you have the space to grow with your voice and whatever about it makes it unique.

#positivity #disability positivity #partially because so much of voical differences arise from disability #i've developed a really annoying lisp-ish issue #and it's hard to be positive about it because it makes me feel like i'll be treated as lesser because it's a 'childish' affect #but i literally can't help it unless i spend 110% of my focus on it. and i don't have that amount of energy #but it makes me think about others and especially those who have it more intensely than i do #and i just want to uplift everybody because vocal differences are neutral at worst #man my dad always tells a story about this coworker he had who had a stutter like you wouldn't believe...#...and he was fucking BRUTALIZED for it... 'c-c-c-c-CAN YOU GET TO THE POINT?!' is how people would talk to him...#...and obviously that made his stutter twice as fucking worse and i can't imagine the shame and humiliation that followed...#...i hope he learned that those assholes were a fucking waste of time and that he doesn't have to deal with that...#...like i'm sorry but there is no fucking need to be that sadistic toward somebody who is obviously already anxious and worried

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piplupod · 9 months

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i hate having a bad memory because there was some guy in public walking in front of my sibling and me, and he had a bunch of nordic tattoos and a vest on that had a bunch of patches and elder futhark runes all along the bottom. and i could not for the life of me clearly remember what symbols were the nazi (folkish odinist) ones so i was just fucking shaking terrified until i could pull my sibling through an opening in the crowd to get away from the guy

anyways. i got home and looked it up and yeah that was a nazi lmfao. i fucking hate this bc I don't think I'm able to do anything about that since i am malnourished and tiny compared to most other people, and this guy was lowkey huge (tall and beefy). i wish i could do literally Anything about this kind of thing, i hate that these people feel safe to walk around with literal hate symbols proudly on display

#im shaking again bc im so upset fjfdjfkl i hate this so much #i wish i could be tall and strong and able to hold my own in a fight #the best i can hope for is fighting scrappy and being able to run fast enough to where somebody else might help me #but even then... i don't think i could do that fjdlsl i am rly not physically well the past year or two #it is just really fucking awful to have to let that guy go freely walking around #my sibling actually looks indigenous dnfjkdl i look like a whitey but she has the darker skintone so i worry abt her #i just wanted to get her out of there and away from him bc idk what he would do #we were in the middle of a crowd but i just have zero idea what to expect of someone who wears hate symbols openly lmao #god i hate this djfjdll i feel very sick and shaky #like i was 90% sure he was going to be a nazi bc ppl dont wear that many runes if theyre not nazis usually but like. the confirmation-#-is just... scary idk #he had the three triangles and the o rune and everything lmao #granted the o rune didnt have the upturned bottom lines but still like... i dont think you'd have Just That on a patch for good purposes #nazi tw #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

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weaselle · 2 months

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it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

#long post #sorry #i just have a lot of DO PEOPLE UNDERSTAND feelings left over from all my years in restaurants #restaurants #line cook #service industry

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thatbadadvice · 7 months

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Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

#good advice #good advice interlude #socializing #awkward #introvert problems #shy #shyness #get out there we're all fucking squares

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 10 months

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Hii i was wondering if you could do the slashers with an s/o who likes being carried around everywhere (Brahms Bo and any others of your chosing)

slashers with an s/o who likes being carried around everywhere

mentioned: brahms heelshire, bo sinclair, thomas hewitt, stu macher, michael myers, tiny firefly

warnings: mentions of murder

a/n: thank you so much for the request, this was so fun to write!

also, i had to put tiny in here because i just love him so much :((

brahms heelshire

the one thing brahms yearns for in his life is closeness, somebody who will never leave him

so when you express that you like to be carried around he can't really believe his luck

he loves being close to you and this is just another opportunity for just that

he'll probably carry you one of two ways; he'll either carry you in his arms bridal style, or he'll carry you chest to chest (i don't really know how to actually describe it)

he hates being alone so he loves being able to have you with him most of the time

he won't carry you around all the time though because he still has his own things to do

bo sinclair

he hates it...or at least, he claims he does

bo usually spends his days alone, either working in the gas station or playing his part to lure unsuspecting victims into the town

he never really has much going on, and if he's being honest, it gets lonely

his brother vincent rarely comes out from his workshop and lester rarely has much to do with the town itself so he's left to his own devices most days, with nothing but his own mind to slowly drive him crazy

the second he discovers you like being carried everywhere, he takes a lot of enjoyment in doing exactly that

he doesn't really carry you properly, he kind of just drags you

it's somewhat like a half-assed piggy back

and although he'll spend the majority of the time grunting and groaning about it, cussing you out under his breath, he actually really loves finally having somebody so close to him

it certainly makes his days less lonely

whilst he's very uncaring though about how he carries you, if you're ill or you're injured, he'll make sure to be real careful with you

day to day though he really couldn't give a shit about being careful but he'll never admit to how much he loves carrying you

thomas hewitt

thomas doesn't like being away from you much, so being able to carry you around is just a bonus for him

he takes every opportunity to pick you up and carry you places, even if you haven't asked

sometimes he'll pick you up bridal style and sometimes he'll simply sling you over his shoulder because it's easier

his family get on at him for doing it so much because you need to pull your weight and such and he's just letting you laze around but he doesn't listen to them

he continues to carry you around because he really just loves having you with him all the time

he hopes you never stop enjoying being carried everywhere because he loves it

stu macher

he loves carrying you around

he's always offering to give you piggy backs

sometimes he'll take you by surprise and throw you over his shoulder and carry you like that

either way, he finds it fun to carry you around everywhere

he has requested a piggy back or two in the past though, which ultimately ended with you almost collapsing beneath him

michael myers

he doesn't really care either way, but there's no way he'll put any effort into carrying you. you either hang off the back of his shoulders or nothing

michael's pretty strong so having you on his back wouldn't really affect his day to day activities

stalking his sister? no problem. you're not even there

murdering someone who happened to get in his way? he barely even notices you

simply walking down the street, having you on his back makes no difference as he simply couldn't care less

he does secretly enjoy having you with him though as he gets lonely sometimes

you're like a little companion he can just take with him wherever he goes

tiny firefly

tiny likes to be helpful so he definitely doesn't mind carrying you around

he's used to anyone outside of his family shying away from him because of his appearance, so when he learns that you want him to carry you around places, he practically jumps at the chance

he loves that you're not afraid of him like most people and is honestly happy to help you out in this way

he enjoys having the company and he also enjoys being able to be close to you, so this is really a win win situation for you both

[Main Masterlist]

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kdvnco · 2 months

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high school enha boys in love

genre! : fluff

pairings! : heeseung x reader, jay x reader, jake x reader, sunghoon x reader, sunoo x reader, jungwon x reader, niki x reader

warnings! : none

do not ask any questions. do not ask where ive been what ive been doing. or when am i posting again💝

LEE HEESEUNG - nerdy guy

Heeseung and his friend group are the biggest losers in the school. They're the type to play Dungeons and Dragons at school and then get bullied. Heeseung is not affected by it at all, he enjoys going to school even if he's not that good at it. Especially now that he developed a small crush on you. He didn't even try to get you, knowing well he had no chance with you. He just hoped. Until he got a chance.

The teacher set you up to a group project, and fortunately or not for you, but you guys needed to work together. You were a quiet girl at school, mid class, not popular or a loser with a decent friend group. You also had no problem working with Heeseung, you just really didn't care. You never hated or bullied him, he was just kinda there. But after working with it, it turned out beside that he is a nerd, he's quiet fun. Hee tried to keep low with his obsession for nerdy stuff, but it didn't bother you at all once you both grew closer. You got along with his friends too who were too obsessed with the tought of speaking to an actual living woman that they constantly stole you away from Heeseung. He thought he finally had the chance, turned out you just wanted to be friends.

[rest utc!]

PARK JONGSEONG - class clown

You were friends with the class clown, Jay. You were his only friend. Though everybody loved him for being funny, he didn't have any close friends besides you. He was easy to talk to, Jay got along with anybody that was forced to interact with him, until it was a woman. For the life of god he couldn't speak to women. You laughed at him for that. You were a girl and his only friend, but it was never a problem to talk with him. He liked you that's why.

All his attempts to make you laugh were weird attempts to flirt with you. It worked out every and each time, only making him to like you more. He wished you also liked him.

He bought you flowers and gifts for you birthday or for different holidays. Taking care of you when you needed him the most. It turns out he can be serious too.

SIM JAEYUN - fuckboy

He's the biggest fuck boy at the school. Everybody knows him, he's super popular with a huge (but full of fuckboys) friend group. Once he notices somebody, he tries his best to make them fall for him, and like that, he collects every girl he sets his eyes. on. You agree he is handsome, but you can't help but despise him. Even more once you see him starring at you in the hallway. You immediately slap your head, knowing well you are his next opponent. He won't give up easily.

You arrive at school to flowers neatly put on your desk and people whispering at the back of the room. And not only does he buy you multiple gifts each week, he approaches you almost every day, trying to strike up a conversation while you try your best to ignore him. You told him off many times before, he's so determined to get you. Jake is annoyed with you. He doesn't want much other than a sweet night spent together.

Jake gets more and more chances to interact with you, actually getting to know you, getting closer to you... slowly falling for you. It takes him a long time to clear his name before ending up with you.

PARK SUNGHOON - pretty boy

He skates, he's pretty and he's quiet. That is all it takes to become the girls' favorite. Sunghoon's not only popular in your class, but many older and younger girls visit him in the breaks, trying to strike up a conversation with him, but mostly he shyly shakes his head as response to the girls' questions. During physical education, many girls watch him play games, visiting him any time they have a free period. Sunghoon loves and hates the attention. It depends on who's giving it to him.

All he begs for is your attention. He secretly wishes you would also bother him in the break, talk to him and let him make you laugh. Whenever he's talking with a girl, from the corner of his eyes he checks if you're looking at him, but it's never the case.

KIM SUNOO - the favorite

Everybody loves Sunoo. He is the sunshine of the school, having multiple friends from each class, being able to talk to anyone about anything easily making him the most liked person at the school.

He's popular in every category, just not when it comes to love. He never thought he would fall for someone, especially not one of his close friends, so when it did turn out that way he didn't know how to act. It was never hard to be around you or talk to you until now. He started avoiding you, luckily he had many friends, but soon he realised none could replace you, and his feelings weren't fading.

He doesn't know how to flirt, his best attempts at trying to make you fall for him was being especially nice to you, hanging out more often, but when all of those attempts were unsuccessful he opened up about his feelings.

YANG JUNGWON - top student

Jungwon was the quiet, straight A's student. So many people had crushes on him, that he was aware about, he just couldn't care less. One thing he cared about is his rival, you. As soon as you joined the class, you also became top student of the school. He became super wary about you, he just couldn't imagine any other person being on his level. He knew he had to worry about his title as the 'Student of The Year', he began to participate in meanigless competitions, but you were there for every and each one of it.

He tried sitting close to you to make sure you are not cheating in any way, or making any suspicious moves, because for sure he'd snitch on you. But this never happened. Instead you started noticing him and teasing him about it. He was so annoyed with you, trying to be better, but even if he was you aced the next test with ease.

He became so obsessed with your life, almost knowing your whole daily routine, starting to fall for you. He noticed so many things about your behaviour that he adored so much. It made him mad, but it was hard to hide it when you teased him and he blushed. You would catch him starring and just quietly laugh at him. It was too obvious, you knew it.

NISHIMURA RIKI - annoying friend

The loud annoying kid in class somehow ended up as your friend. He forced himself at you long enough, so you let him in accepting his friendship, which turned out to be fun. He was funny, outgoing and weird. Exeptionally weird, making it even more fun to be his friend.

The more he hung out with you the more you liked him, quality time tying you together with him emotionally. He introduced you to his other friends, inviting you to hang outs whenever you were free, and because you started liking him... more than a friend you freed up your time just him. You wanted to know if he felt the same, but nothing changed even when you asked to hang out just the two of you. He acted the same.

The only reason you ended up with him was, because his friend snitched on him. Niki, no way in hell would confess to you, so they helped him. You would have nevet guessed he liked you back.

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txttletale · 1 year

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girl help. I got high and read the cruel and self-centered opinions of the imperial core's middle class, now I feel hopeless about the state of the world where once I was simply apathetic to said middle-classes insignificant understanding of the world and I don't know how to achieve peace of mind

puyi was the last qing emperor of china. as a child he would regularly have his servants flogged and shoot at them with a BB gun. as an adult he continued this cruelty and ran the japanese puppet state of manchukuo, presiding over countless war crimes. when he was imprisoned by the CCP, he was confronted with people he'd hurt: his concubines, the victims of japanese massacres, people who had worked and starved in manchukuo's factories. he realsed what he'd done--overwhelmed with guilt, he considered suicide.

after nine years in prison, he was released. he led an ordinary life as a street sweeper. he was apologetic to waiters in restaurants--they reminded him too much of having servants. he took care to be the last person on the bus. he acted in plays as a hobby. he was happily married to a hospital nurse, who said of her husband: 'When I was having even a slight case of flu, he was so worried I would die, that he refused to sleep at night and sat by my bedside until dawn so he could attend to my needs'

there's no amount of cruelty that cannot be unlearned. there is no level of self-centredness or brutality that cannot be recovered from. the people with these cruel opinions--maybe they'll die like that. but they have within them somebody kind and gentle. the possibility for such a person exists within everybody, without exception. so don't be hopeless when you see cruelty. just steel your heart and tell yourself that not only are there good people--but that cruel people can one day be good. that there is hope for every human being and so there is hope for the world

#ask

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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HEYYYY

Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.

Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.

So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.

Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ‼️

Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.

‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.

‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.

‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’

Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.

‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…

Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.

The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.

‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’

Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’

You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.

He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.

‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.

‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.

Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’

You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’

‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.

‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.

‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’

‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.

While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.

You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.

‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.

‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.

‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised.

‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.

Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.

‘Nope.’ Dick started.

‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.

‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’

Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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starkeyboy · 3 months

Text

how to be a heartbreaker

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

this ate when i was 9 and it still eats

the moment the pink aura radiated off my skin was when i knew. i had been claimed by aphrodite. everyone looked at me in awe as the acne on my face washed away, the kinks in my hair straightening out and turning into a blowout. i caught eyes with a boy who had been training me since i got here. the boy i didn’t know that would be a target in a game called love.

***

5 years later

“now listen, y/n, being a daughter of aphrodite isn’t easy,” silena beauregard, my half sister, said. i sat in a chair looking at myself in the mirror as she stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders. “now that you’re old enough like me, we have one rule.” i looked at her confused when she sighed.

“just one? how is that hard?” i said. she looked at me in the mirror with her eyebrows raised.

“our mother, the goddess of love, sex…heartbreak pretty much. for us to find the one, y/n, you have to break the first one’s heart,” she said. i grew confused. “pretty much just find someone, make them fall in love you and drop them, and then your set to fall in love with the one.”

“so i have to destroy someone’s heart for mine to fall for someone else? what if i end up falling for that one?” i said as i turned to face her. she smiled and shook her head.

“you won’t, i promise, because if you follow these rules, you won’t fall in love with them.” she turned around and pulled out a piece of paper.

“Rule number one is that you gotta have fun

But, baby, when you're done, you gotta be the first to run”

i huffed as luke pushed me with his foot to the ground once again. he smirked at me as he walked over and stood above me.

“i thought you were supposed to go easy on me,” i winced as i sat up. he chuckled and held out his hand to help me up.

“well i thought you were gonna be busy doing makeup once you got claimed but apparently not all aphrodite kids are the same, so im gonna make you the best,” he said as his hand didn’t let go of mine. i looked up at him and i realized. he was my target.

i took a step back and i smiled. “how am i gonna be the best when you are, castellan?” i asked as his cheeks blushed. “or are you just wanting to get close to me?” his eyes widened as he stammered over his words. he shook his head trying to deny it.

“i’m joking, hero, im trying to have fun.” i smirked at him.

***

i looked at silena as she said the first rule, my eyebrows raised.

“did apollo help her write that?” i asked jokingly as she laughed a little.

“now that i’m reading it out loud, it does sound like a song,” she laughed out.

“Rule number two, just don't get attached to

Somebody you could lose

So le-let me tell you”

i walked into the arena, seeing luke cutting a dummy’s head off. i stood in awe for a second and then remembered why i was here. i needed attention.

“i’m starting to think those are real people in your head, hero,” i said as i walked closer. he stopped what he was doing and looked at me.

“i can only imagine if they were,” he said as he picked up the head full of hay and threw it out. “what are you doing here though, thought silena said cabin 10 was off limits tonight.” i shrugged and put my hand on the sword of his.

“that’s the cabin you’re talking about, not me,” i said as he loosens his grip on the sword slightly but gets a grip on it once he notices. “and i was hoping if i could get some private lessons from the best swordsmen.” i smiled at him as he had this dazed look into his eyes. i got him.

“yeah, i guess i could do that,” he said as he smiled slightly. i took a step back and grabbed a sword from a nearby rack and stood in place.

as we were swinging at each other, i noticed that he had lost some of strength and was going easy on me. i knew deep down that it was the daze in his eyes and he was pretty much enchanted. but i was kind of hoping it was him just being tired. shit…i didn’t wanna curse the boy…just break his heart real quick.

my arm collided against his chest as he fell back. i huffed out some air and walked over to him. he was breathing heavy and looking at me in shock. i smirked at him as i held out my hand. once he stood, i patted his chest and placed it there.

“well, hero, looks like the training is working.” i smiled at him. he just smiled and shook his head.

“i was just going easy,” he denied. i chuckled as i took a step back. his face dropping slightly.

“whatever you say, hero.” and i sauntered off.

i took a deep breath out as i left the arena. maybe i should’ve picked a different boy.

i think i’m falling for him.

***

silena smiled at me as i walked into the cabin. i immediately went to her.

“i can’t change who i break, can i?” i asked as she furrowed her eyebrows. but then she realized.

“you’re falling for him, aren’t you?” she said as i sat down on my bed. she sat down next to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

“you said this wouldn’t happen if i followed the rules.” i stated. she sighed as she reached into my drawer and grabbed the paper that she given to me.

“maybe a few more days and you’ll forget you even looked at him in that way.” she looked to me and gave me the paper and pointed to rule number 3.

“Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek

But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat”

i took a deep breath as i saw luke sitting on the beach. i walked over and sat next to him, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“looks like you need some company, hero.” he smiled at me as he nodded his head.

“only if it’s your company,” he smirked at me. i blushed but immediately looked away. i couldn’t let him get to me. i was in control of this game.

“what are doing out here anyways?” i said as i looked out to the sea, trying to not make eye contact. it was silent for a sec and i looked at him to see he was just staring at the ocean.

“i’m tired of the gods not taking initiative to claim their kids,” he said. he turned his head and looked to me. “my cabin is a mess,” he smiled. i smiled back and laughed softly.

“maybe if you sweet talk annabeth and silena, they’ll give you at most 3 out 5 for trying.” i said as he chuckled. his eyes stared into mine and i got lost in his. i could feel the heat rush to my ears and cheeks. i looked away, shyly. but i looked back for only to luke bring his hand up and brush some hair away from my face.

“i’m really glad you’re here, y/n,” he whispered. i felt my heart flutter but i could hear my moms voice.

“you’re cheek sweetheart, not sleeve.”

i smiled at him and shrugged. “that’s what friends are for, right?” i said, lying straight to his face. i looked away and i could see his face fall slightly but he sat straight and nodded.

“of course, you’re always right.”

***

silena walked into the cabin and gave me a knowing look.

“you tell luke to sweet talk me to giving his cabin 3/5?” she said smirking. i shrugged and laughed slightly.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” i said shaking my head. she sat down next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder.

“silena?” i said as i looked ahead, the feeling sinking in.

“yeah?” she looked up and looked worried. i guess the tone in my voice wasn’t too happy.

“i think i love luke”

“Rule number four, gotta be looking pure

Kiss him goodbye at the door, and leave him wanting more, more”

the apollo kids sang as i sat with luke, annabeth, percy, grover, silena and charlie around the campfire. my head was elsewhere, my mind just thinking of the curse of a rule. i felt a hand go on my back, i looked over to see luke looking at me worried.

“you okay?” he said. i admired his face as it glowed with the fire. his scar making him look even more of a hero than anyone else.

“will you actually walk me to my cabin? i’m really tired,” i sighed out and he immediately nodded. he got up and held out his hand for me to take. i took it and walked away with everyone’s eyes on us.

we walked in silence until we got to the door, never noticing our hands still locked. we stood in front and i looked back at our hands. my other hand took initiative as it worked its way up his chest. i looked up to him and i could see what he was feeling. lust. love. my hand snaked to his scar on his face as i leaned up.

our lips met for a brief moment when i pulled away, his chasing mine. i smiled and i kissed his cheek and whispered.

“i’ll see you in the morning, hero,” i kissed him again and walked into my cabin, leaving him going crazy.

***

tears fell down my face as i looked to the ceiling. the door to the cabin opened as silena and my other siblings walked in, but they immediately stopped seeing me.

“y/n?” silena said as she walked over to me. she sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on my shoulder.

“i can’t do it,” i whispered, shaking my head. more tears spilled from my eyes as i thought of him.

she sighed as she smoothed my hair down. i could tell the others were looking at me with sympathy as i cried.

“i know it’s hard, y/n, it’s okay,” she said. i sat up as anger rises in me.

“that’s the thing silena, it’s not okay, because i’ve fallen in love with him. you promised i wouldn’t if i followed four simple rules. it’s been weeks, silena,” i said as i sobbed. “what’s the point of doing all this!” i yelled as i punched the bed. she flinched but proceeded to grab the paper. i nearly ripped it out of her hands because it was stupid. this whole game was stupid. but she moved it away and flipped it over.

“we do whatever it will take, 'Cause girls don't want our hearts to break in two, so it's better to be fake, can't risk losing in love again.” she said as she folded the paper. i threw the blanket off of me as i stood up and stared at her. i held out my hand for her to give me the paper. she handed it to me.

this is how to be a heartbreaker written on top in pink with hearts around it. how ironic. i then proceeded to rip the paper in pieces. i heard everyone gasp as i tore it more and more.

“i’m done playing her game, because in the end, it’s not gonna be me breaking his heart. it’s gonna be me breaking my own,” i said as i threw the pieces on the floor and stormed out.

***

it was just an hour before curfew when i knocked on the hermes cabin door. hearing voices dial down as the door opened. chris stood confused as he stared at me.

“whatcha need? the stoll brother steal something for you?” he said as he smiled. i shook my head and looked around him. luke no where in sight.

“where’s luke?” i asked as he chuckled.

“i’d figure that was the real reasons why you were here, he’s at the shore,” he said as he took a step back. i nodded and immediately went to him.

when i stepped foot on the shore, i saw him with his knees pressed to his chest. i could feel his feelings. betrayal. hurt. love.

i sat next to him and instead of playfully pushing him, i only slightly touched his shoulder to mine.

“you look like you could use some company, hero,” i said quietly as i tried to make him smile. he only looked out to the water as i sighed. i knew he knew.

“can i ask you a question?” he said as he looked over to me. i nodded as i searched in his eyes for anything. “when were you gonna do it?” he asked as my eyebrows furrowed. “when were you gonna do rule number 5?” he clarified. i felt my heart break in half. i looked away as i played with the rough sand.

i shook my head and took a shaky breath. i felt angry at my mother. how can a goddess of love be so cruel. i shifted and faced luke.

“i wasn’t gonna do it,” i said as i reached up to his cheek. he had tears in his eyes as i looked at him. his hand went up to my wrist. i felt tears in my own eyes. “if i broke your heart, i would’ve broken mine too,” i said as i rubbed my thumb on his cheek.

“you mean that?” he asked quietly. i leaned my forehead on his and nodded. i leaned in slightly, scared he was gonna leave. he pulled me closer, bringing my body to his.

“i’ve loved you since the day i got accepted by you, luke castellan,” i whispered to him. his lips ghosted mine and i could feel him smiling. his lips pressed into mine and his hands pressed into my hips. my hands went to his neck and tangled my fingers in his curls.

he pulled away and looked at me. “i love you too, y/n,” he said as kissed me more. but he pulled away again for a second as he grimaced. i furrowed my eyebrows. did i do something? “call me hero though, luke doesn’t sound right,” he laughed and i smiled and laughed with him.

“of course, hero. my hero.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo

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meganwhalenturner · 3 months

Text

Somebody wrote to ask me for advice on writing. This is what I told them:

I'm terrible at giving writing advice. I know that the best advice for one person can be the very worst for another, so feel free to ignore all of this except for the very first bit:

There are a lot of people who will tell you they can help you write better, get your manuscript edited, get your book published. A lot of them just want your money. As a general rule, don't give people your money for what you write -- make people give you THEIR money for what you write. I've heard this called Yog's Law: Money Should Flow to the Author.

Check out the Writer Beware site run by SFWA.

Not every writing program is a scam, but don't think you have to have an MFA or attend a famous writing workshop to be taken seriously as a writer. You don't.

Decide who you are writing for before you start. It's okay to write for yourself. It's okay to write for that one person in high school with whom you shared fanfiction. (I did that, it was The Thief). It's okay to aim for a worldwide audience and it's okay to write for the three people in the entire world who will appreciate your story. When you run into criticism (and you will) you want to be able to ask yourself if the criticism is coming from your audience. If it's not, take it with a big grain of salt.

Writing can be hard work and it feels good to work hard, but it's okay to do it for fun. Maybe you just want to write craptastic fanfiction -- you should do that and I hope you enjoy yourself. Don't let other people dictate what "worthwhile" writing is.

Don't be afraid to write badly. Don't be afraid you'll "waste" that really good idea you have because you couldn't write well enough to do it justice. You'll have another good idea.

You have to write to be a writer. That sounds obvious, but you have to figure out for yourself what makes writing happen and then you have to do it. Some people will tell you their way of writing is guaranteed to work. Do not believe them. Some people can set themselves goals -- they write 2,000 words a day and they are good words! Some set themselves a goal and they waste an entire day squeezing out 2,000 garbage words. Sometimes the conditions that you need in order to work will seem silly. Friederich Von Schiller kept rotting apples around to sniff while he wrote. I don't know if that would work for you. Only you know the way for you.

Good luck,

~mwt

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writingficsanddaydreams · 7 months

Text

Little Paintings

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: surely the extremely observant and powerful warlord of the sea won’t notice your little paintings all over his castle…

Content: pure fluff, with just a hint of romance. reader is written as autistic.

A/N: I recently watched a TikTok where somebody was painting cute little designs all around their house until their spouse noticed. It made me think of this idea. Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago. Enjoy!

—————————

You like painting. Always have, always will.

However, you’re not sure if the fearsome Dracule Mihawk will appreciate it so much as you, not when you’re painting inside his crystal ware cabinet. Especially not when you didn’t bother to get his permission.

Not that you’ll stop.

If anything, it makes you determined to work quicker, nudging more of the delicate wine glasses aside to you can lean in and finish the adding paint strokes to the fine wood, creating a minuscule image of a little bottle in the back corner of the cabinet.

Is it silly for a fully grown adult to be doing this? Perhaps. Yet you can’t help but smile as you add the final touch to the tiny little label on the bottle, a small swirl of purple paint to match the label of the wine he shared with you yesterday.

Perfect.

When you extract yourself and carefully push the wine glasses back in place, the painting is completely hidden. You have just enough time to hustle back through the chilly castle halls and tuck your paints in your room before he returns inside from his sword practice.

He gives you quite the long look when you settle in the kitchen later that day, those piercing yellow eyes seeming to cut through your surface and see so deep. And though you feel your breath catch—as it often does around this formidable man—you force yourself to smile innocently.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I will be sailing out for supplies this afternoon,” he says after a long moment.

You nod and draw your knees to your chin. “Do you need me along?”

“No need for that.”

You sigh with relief, watching as he turns back to his cooking. You don’t dislike people, but you do prefer your solitude. You always have, ever since you were a child. It’s why you feel content to stay here now.

That, and how utterly delightful it is to watch him cook.

He’s terribly handsome when cooking, though you’re fairly sure the man would look handsome doing anything. His knife seem to blur as he cuts up the vegetables, then begins to prep the meat. When he reaches for the pans, his cross necklace shifting against his finely cut chest, your heart skips a beat.

Yet he simply grabs a pan and gets to work, seeming to not notice the tiny cross shaped sword painted just behind where the pots hang.

Really, it’s foolish of you to do this. Yes, art has always been a passion for you, but you are a guest here. A guest he has allowed to stay for some months, and a guest who has shared just enough casual, accidental touches that you hope it might become something more, but still a guest.

Still, you’re curious. Just how much can you paint before the great swordsman notices?

You’ve been at it for a week now, ever since you found the dusty little bottles of paint tucked away in a forgotten storeroom. You use every moment he’s out to sneak little paintings around the castle, none bigger than your thumb.

There’s the little map against the doorframe of your room, like the treasure map you were following before you stumbled on this island.

Then there’s the small ape painted onto one table leg in the dining hall, a far less fearsome version of the beasts that chased away your captain and crew when you all landed here. You recall how frustrated you were that they left you behind, a frustration that has long since faded now that you can count on the safety of Dracule Mihawk’s castle.

He walks past you now, a hand brushing briefly against your arm before he continues on to grab the spices across the kitchen.

Not an accident, surely. Nothing this man does is accidental.

That makes you think of the minuscule wanted poster you painted in the corner of your doorframe yesterday, in honor of the fear you first felt when you realized just who inhabited this place. Funny how frightened you were that first day. And the second day.

…and the third.

By the forth, however, you had figured out he likely wasn’t going to kill you.

By the fifth you’d determined that so long as you didn’t irritate him, he didn’t seem inclined to make you leave either. In fact, as days went on, you became fairly certain he didn’t mind your company.

Which is why you now play this foolish game of sneakily painting designs all around his castle.

You always considered yourself clever. Yet apparently all it takes are a few “accidental” touches and heavy looks for you to throw all your caution to the wind. Teasing a warlord, vandalizing his castle… such a perfect plan for long term survival.

Still, you do truly enjoy painting.

Your favorite are the flowers you painted along a small crack in the stones of the great hall, colored with a yellow that makes you think of his stunning eyes, the eyes that have over the last few months shifted from disinterest and disdain to… something else.

Something that makes you hope perhaps you won’t always be just a guest.

You’re not brave enough to make any moves yourself—never really have been when it comes to matters of the heart—but that won’t stop you from seeing just where these lingering glances and soft touches might eventually go.

Those same eyes stare at you again now as you make your way to the dining hall and pick at your food, separating the small bits of tomato from the rest of your meal. You bite back a smile as his gaze cuts down to your plate and he takes note of the rejected vegetable. Knowing him, he won’t use it in your meals again.

You honestly don’t know how a man so observant has not noticed your paintings yet.

“Do you need anything from the village?” Mihawk asks, startling you from your thoughts.

“I’m alright, I think,” you say. Given the nearest village is several islands away, you take a moment to think about it truly, but everything you need has been provided for you already. If anything, you’re far more comfortable here than you ever were with the crew you sailed alongside, a crew that only cared about you for your rough mapmaking skills—your least favorite thing to paint if you’re being honest—and were quick to abandon you when the first hint of danger appeared.

He nods and turns to his own plate. You try not to stare at the wall behind him, where you‘ve recently painted a tiny little figure sitting in a tiny little chair wearing a tiny black wide brimmed hat, hidden just at the base of the dining hall floorboards.

Trying not to giggle about it keeps you distracted through most of lunch.

“I’ll be off then,” Mihawk says as you both finish your meals, rising from the table.

“Be safe.”

Ah yes, because you need to tell the strongest swordsman in the world to be safe. You mentally kick yourself, but feel better when he offers you one of his rare almost smiles, even as he pauses by your chair.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he says, that confidence that you’ve come to admire woven through every inch of his words. “I highly doubt there will be anyone to challenge me. Truly a shame. Oh, as a note…”

“Yes?”

Your breathe hitches as he reaches out, gently taking your hand and lifting it towards him. You’re hyper aware of how strong his grip is. So powerful, yet intentionally gentle. Of how piercing his gaze is, those eyes that are so hard to meet, even as they set your heart racing. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a slow, deliberate kiss against it.

Oh.

When he lowers your hand, he’s… smiling. Not just that almost smirk, but a real smile. Your heart lurches again at the sight. When he speaks, it takes you a long moment to process his words around the pounding of your heart.

“The entry hall could use a few more flowers, perhaps, if you must paint all over the walls.”

Then he’s off, leaving you stunned where you sit. Your draw your hand close to yourself, staring at the skin he kissed.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, but on the back of your hand is just the slightest smudge of dried purple paint from earlier.

As you run a finger along the paint, you find yourself hesitating. Then before you know it, you’ve risen from your chair and are hurrying to follow, to catch Mihawk before he leaves the castle.

Perhaps you need some supplies after all.

More paints. New brushes. A proper tray for mixing your colors… and maybe even a true kiss from the warlord you’ve fallen for.

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #one piece mihawk #one piece

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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James Potter x Reader where reader is in a different house (Hufflepuff if you don’t mind) and she ends up on the receiving end of one of their pranks which makes her angry so she avoids James and the other marauders, forcing him to grovel/beg for forgiveness? Thank you so much xoxo

Hi, thanks for your request! This got a bit long haha, but I enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading :)

cw: mentions of blood

James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader ♡ 1.8k words

Though no one tells him it’s happening, Remus sees the prank coming from a mile away.

Primarily, this is because James and Sirius appear to be playing an entirely ordinary game of frisbee. Just tossing it back and forth, no hexes or nifflers or anything. A simple pastime between two boys on a lovely warm afternoon.

Secondly, they haven’t asked Remus to join them. While they know from experience he’s content to read his book in the grass, they always make a point to ask just to be sure Remus doesn’t feel excluded. The fact that they haven’t suggests that they’re well aware that whatever they’re up to, Remus will want no part in it.

Lastly and most importantly, James Potter has the worst poker face Remus has ever known.

When the curly-haired boy slyly drops the frisbee they’ve been using into his bag, trading it for another, he can hardly keep the giddiness from his face. Which is probably why, when he tosses it well away from his companion and towards a crowd of gathered students, Sirius is the one who has to say, with theatrical volume and distress, “Merlin, can somebody grab that?”

Remus watches warily as several students turn to track the progress of the disk as it sails overhead, and after a moment one breaks away, chasing after it. Remus feels a pang of sympathy for you, your yellow and black scarf flying behind you as you run, needing no further evidence than the eager look in James’ eyes to know that you’ve fallen for a trap.

You jump up to grab it out of the air, beaming in triumph for a moment before a yelp escapes you. You flings your catch to the ground, cradling your hand as the fanged frisbee twitches and snarls at your feet.

“Shit,” he hears Sirius breathe, and the excitement is gone from his and James’ expressions as they jog over to you, Remus standing to follow them.

You pick your head up as they approach, eyes wet but fierce.

“What the hell?” you snarl, and Remus realizes with a stab of concern that there’s a small puddle of blood forming in your palm. “You’ve begun targeting your stupid pranks at anyone who’s dumb enough to help you now? How’s that funny?”

Remus looks at his friends in bewilderment, aggrieved on your behalf but unable to believe they’d do something so cruel. The fanged frisbee—a cheap trick, which really should be banned in Remus’ opinion—twitches closer to your ankle, and Sirius flicks his wand at it, its teeth retracting as it goes silent and motionless.

“We…I charmed it so its teeth would be dull and harmless.” James scrubs a hand through his hair, at a loss. “It was only supposed to scare you, not hurt you.”

You shake your head at him disbelievingly and bite your lip, face reddening as the pain sets in. James steps closer to you, blocking you from view of the small crowd of gawking students, none of whom, Remus notes with some bitterness, have come to help you or see if you’re okay.

“I’m really sorry,” James says softly. “Let me help.” But when he reaches for your hand, you step back, holding it close to your chest.

“Just leave me out of your fun in the future, yeah?” you hiss, stalking inside.

James looks pained as he watches you go, and though Remus doesn’t begrudge you your justified anger, he feels for his good-natured friend. It had been an honest mistake, though the cost turned out to be far higher than either of his friends had expected. But knowing James, he’ll find some way to make it right.

“Sorry, mate. They can’t all be winners.” Sirius claps him on the back, and Remus knows his light tone is more to make James feel better than it is true carelessness. Sirius is loyal that way; he’d probably lock you in a broom closet rather than have you upset James again.

“It wasn’t meant to hurt anyone,” James says quietly.

Sirius’ smile is unfaltering, though Remus spies the worry in his eyes. “She’ll get over it. C’mon, there’s still time to go into Hogsmeade if we hurry.”

And though Remus hopes you’ll feel better soon, he knows it will take James a long time to get over it himself.

James shuffles from foot to foot, feeling silly and anxious as he waits for someone to leave the Hufflepuff dorms so he can go inside. He’s fairly sure you’re supposed to have potions together, but you hadn’t shown up to class, and though James had kept an eye out all day in the hallways, he’d never spotted you. He’d thought he’d caught a glimpse of you in the great hall during lunch, but you’d darted out of sight before he could be sure, and then there’d been no sign of you at dinner. Luckily, it had only taken a quick consultation of the map he shared with his friends to find out that you’d holed up in the Hufflepuff common room, so here he was, draped in his invisibility cloak and fidgeting like a nervous date at your front door.

The door creaks open, and James slips in before it can shut, the exiting Hufflepuff shivering slightly at the breeze he makes whisking by them. It’s not difficult to spot you where you’re sitting painting your nails, lips pursed just slightly in concentration. The common room is mostly empty as other students enjoy the nice weather outside, and James is grateful for the privacy as he takes off the cloak and goes to sit beside your feet where they’re stretched out on the couch.

You look up at the intrusion and startle to find James, pulling your feet closer to you reflexively. He hopes it’s an instinct to make room for him and not to protect yourself from him, though given recent events he could hardly blame you for the latter.

“What’re you—how did you get in here?” you ask, eyes darting between James and the door in bafflement.

Never mind that. “You weren’t at dinner,” James says, holding out his small stolen dish of chicken curry, “so I thought you might be hungry. Sorry, it’s barely warm now.”

You take it from him suspiciously, careful of your wet nails, and James feels a stab of guilt at the sight of your bandaged hand.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he goes on, throat burning with shame. “I know I’ve already said it, but it was supposed to be harmless. I wasn’t careful enough.”

You don’t look at him, not rejecting his apology but not quite accepting it either. “Pomphrey fixed it good as new anyways, so we can just say it never happened.”

James appreciates the attempt to ease his conscience, but your kindness only makes him feel that much more villainous. This would be so simple if you were one of those pureblood gits, or even just a bit ruder, but you’re you, and that’s so much worse.

“Can I see it?” he asks softly, and you hesitate only a moment before scooting a bit closer and extending your hand to him, palm up.

James unwraps the bandage with care, keeping one eye on your face to ensure he’s not hurting you, and so he notices the faint blush that colors your cheeks as he cradles your hand in his. The last layer of your dressing falls away, revealing three tiny white scars. Though they’re healed over, he hisses in sympathy, drawing your hand further towards him protectively but forgetting you’re attached to it.

Your inhale is soft as you lean forward awkwardly, and James huffs a laugh at his enduring idiocy. “Sorry, love,” he says, letting you lean back. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though. “Were they deep?”

You give a one-shouldered shrug, as though it’s nothing to you. James worries you’re putting on a performance of exaggerated blasé for his benefit. “They bled a lot, but a charm sealed them up quickly enough.”

James nods, remembering with sickening clarity the blood that had pooled in your palm and dripped from between your fingers.

“I’m glad,” James says, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough. But he can’t stop himself, even if it’s all inadequate. “I’m really sorry.”

You sigh, and James knows enough about you to guess that being upset is exhausting you. It isn’t in your nature; you’re someone who always has a kind word for everyone, who he’s seen lend your quill to a student that forgot theirs and offer them an understanding smile when they broke it, who would rather spend all day avoiding James than let him feel the wrath of your grudge.

Your very warranted grudge, by the way.

It’s terrible luck that someone as sweet as you was on the receiving end of his mistake. But, as you’d pointed out, that was how the prank was designed, wasn’t it? Though James and Sirius hadn’t thought that part through at the time, the victim was always going to be whoever stepped forward to help. Normally it might not matter, but they’d gotten so caught up in the excitement of trying out their new toy that James had somehow gotten the spell wrong. And as a result, you’d been forced to pay a price for your kindness and his incompetence.

“It’s okay,” you say.

“It’s not,” James insists. “And I can’t fix it, but let me do something else. I can do your potions’ homework for the rest of the year, I can give you my dessert every night, I can…I can sneak into Hogsmeade and bring you whatever you want, anytime you ask, I can…what?”

You’re smiling at him, and it’s familiarly lovely but, James can’t help but think, entirely undeserved.

“I don’t need any favors from you, James,” you say, and he realizes it’s the first time you’ve said his name. It’s not a long name, but somehow your voice gives it a cadence he quite likes. “Just be more careful, okay? I ended up fine, but next time someone might not.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he promises swiftly, and means it. “But sweetheart—” if he notices how you soften at the endearment, he doesn’t mention it “—you’ve gotta let me make it up to you somehow.”

You sigh again, though it’s lighter this time, seemingly both exasperated and amused by his persistence. After a moment spent within your own head, you ask, “Could you help me study for the potions exam next week?”

“Yes!” James grins eagerly. “Of course. That’s a start. How’s tomorrow after class? I’ll bring study snacks as well, and we can make it a regular thing, if you like.”

He’d like to make it a regular thing, debt or not.

You smile. “Tomorrow is perfect. And can I call in another favor right now?”

If James weren’t sitting, he’d buckle at the knees in relief. “Yes. I’m at your service.”

“Can you tell me how you got into the Hufflepuff common room?”

“That,” he says smoothly, “is just one in my arsenal of skills now at your disposal.”

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alwaysmoncheri · 1 month

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hiii would u be open to writing remus lupin x reader with the prompt *x put head on y’s shoulder* “just don’t leave…” with either remus saying it or the reader? no worries if not <3 🦌🦌

hi, my love!! thank you for requesting! i hope this is what you’re looking for! i was in a little bit of a writer block last night so this may not be my best work, i apologize for that, honey </3

cw: fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of remus being a werewolf, remus feels insecure, the marauders not being very helpful, established relationship, crying, 0.9k

Remus isn’t one to hide who he is, you know he’s a werewolf, he’s been vulnerable with you before, so when he starts to become a little distant from you, you know exactly why. The past few days have been rough for him, you know. Leading up to a full moon is almost always worse than the aftermath. But this time, Remus seems particularly bothered. He still holds your hand to classes and reads to you at night, but something about the way he always is distracted, like loosely holing your hand without knowing and constantly losing his place while reading makes you feel like his mind is truly elsewhere.

The Marauders aren’t helping the situation either. Sure, they’re supportive of their friend and you know they’re always there for him, but the pitying glances don’t go unnoticed by both you and Remus and you don’t presume he is very fond of those looks. You don’t blame him.

At dinner, the night before the full moon, James, Sirius, and Peter keep repeating the same set of motions. Their eyes dart from each other, their food, to Remus, and back to each other. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at their obvious display of concern because Remus doesn’t really need that right now and they should know that after all this time. After tolerating the silent glances for the majority of dinner, Remus shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving his food. You gently slide your hand into his, hoping offer some comfort, and when he accepts you take it a step furthur and draw small circles with your thumb on the back of his hand. This doesn’t last long. When the other three boys offer sympathetic smiles, Remus notices and stands from his seat, dropping your hand and walking out of The Great Hall with quick strides.

“Would you guys quit it?” you hiss at the boys across the table who’s eyes widen at the abrupt snap of your head in their direction.

“What?” They reply in unison and share a few nervous glances before returning to your harsh gaze.

“Remus clearly isn’t doing well,” you say, pointing out the obvious, “the least you can do is not look at him like he’s dying.” you add gesturing in the direction of the door, where Remus had walked out of.

“We’re not—”

“Save it,” you cut James off, who makes an attempt to defend the three of them. You roll your eyes, standing from your seat, “I’m going to check on him.” you state before following the previous path of your boyfriend, out the door and to your dorms.

When you arrive in the common room and head towards the boys’ dorm you hear quiet sobs echoing through the door. Your throat tightens and you hesitate to move towards the sound, but you do anyway because you know Remus needs somebody and you’re always willing to be that somebody.

“Remus?” you call out before pushing the door open and are met with a sniffling Remus, eyes red and puffy. Your heart almost breaks in two, the sight enough to make you feel the clenching in your chest and for a moment, you unknowingly hold your breath.

“Hey, lovely.” Remus greets and his voice cracks with the attempt to cover a sob that might’ve escaped his lips.

“Oh, honey.” you whisper and Remus bows his head, with shame or just to wipe the tears off his face, you don’t know. You walk towards the bed before sitting next to him, hand rubbing his shoulder, slowly sliding down to hold his hand, once more, “Do you want to talk about it?” you offer, bringing Remus to lift his head up and meet your gaze, a lump grows in your throat at his broken expression and you try to keep it together for him.

“I’m just so tired—” Remus starts, before a sob escapes his lips. He reaches out for you and you don’t hesitate to bring him into your arms, his head rests on your shoulder, your hands cupping the back of his neck, while his hands wrap around you waist, “ —I don’t want to be like this anymore.” Remus admits, his voice breaking and you feel your shirt dampen with tears.

“Hey, I’m here.” you say, gently running your hands through Remus’s hair and up and down the length of his back, “James, Sirius and Peter are here.” You add and you feel Remus’s sobs turn to sniffles against your shoulder. “Even if they get on your nerves, they mean well.”

“I know…” Remus says, the sound muffled against your shoulder. He lifts his head, your eyes meeting his puffy ones, “Is it okay if we just stay like this?” Remus asks hesitantly, as if you would ever say no to him.

“It’s more than okay.” You whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. You start to shift your body further onto the bed before Remus’s tight grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Your eyebrows furrow with confusion before hearing Remus’s desperate voice.

“Don’t leave me, please…” Remus begs, clinging onto you.

I’m never going to leave you,” you reply and Remus nods continuously against your shoulder, his hair falling into his face and brushing yours, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Remus says, his voice shaky but calmer than before, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He admits and your heart warms with his words.

You smile, pulling the both of you back onto his bed in a more comfortable position with his head still tucked into your shoulder, “And you’ll never have to know,” you whisper before you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest.

masterlist . remus lupin masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @jordie-gvf, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker, @moonsupremacy01, @enamoredwithbella

#my works ──★ ˙☕️ ̟ !!#masterlist #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot

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wholoveseggs · 4 months

Note

HIII 🫶🏼 was wondering if you can make something about how Elijah/reader have been together/married for centuries and shes never felt jealous over Elijah with somebody else before so she doesn’t know how it feels like and she sees hayley with Elijah and she’s experiencing jealously for the first time and it ends with Elijah reassuring her with fluff and smut 😭😭

Eyes for you.

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Amidst the clinking of glasses and strained smiles, you find yourself feeling jealous of the way Hayley is interacting with your husband... Until he shows you exactly why you shouldn't be feeling that way.

~Thanks for the request anon(s) ♡♡ I hope you don't mind me combining the two ideas. I made this as a sort of sequel to Dinner can wait~

~I've gotten sooo many requests in the last few days - I love them all, but it will take me some time to catch up ♡♡ thanks for your patience~

4.1k words - Warnings: smut, drama, oral, semi-public sex, slight dom!elijah...

{Moodboard->}

It was supposed to be a nice family outing. A dinner where everyone would just get together and enjoy themselves. But as the evening went on, your stomach had been churning, the food on the plate in front of you forgotten.

You hadn't even been able to eat more than a few bites, your appetite gone. Elijah kept a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb rubbing circles, a small smile on his face. His brown eyes were soft as they stared at you.

But it didn't help.

You could see the way Hayley looked at him. Her beautiful hazel eyes were bright as they stared at your husband. Her plump red lips were curved into a flirty smile, and you knew that Elijah was enjoying her company.

He was always fond of Hayley. Even if he would deny it. You had seen the way his gaze lingered on her during dinner, the way he had leaned a little bit closer to her as she talked, how his own smile widened.

He was handsome, and the women around you knew it, all trying to gain his attention. You usually found it amusing, even a bit of an ego boost for you, knowing that you had what everyone else wanted.

But now, you felt insecure. Hayley was more than just a passing woman who wanted your husband. She was a part of the family, the mother to his beloved niece.

And she was beautiful. Her brown hair had been pulled into a bun, the baby hairs around her hairline curled. Her dark eyeshadow made her eyes stand out.

You shifted in your seat, taking a sip of your wine, trying to focus on the conversations around you. Freya was telling a story about the newest witch she had met. Kol was laughing, his mouth full of food.

"So, Y/n, what are your plans for the weekend?" Rebekah asked.

You swallowed thickly, glancing at her. "Elijah and I are going on a little getaway."

Rebekah raised her brows, smiling softly. "That sounds lovely. Where are you guys going?"

"We're going to this new winery a few hours away. We will leave tomorrow morning." Elijah spoke, his hand moving to the back of your neck, gently squeezing. "I need a break from work, and my darling wife deserves a vacation."

"That sounds so romantic, you guys should bring back some wine for me." Hayley said, smiling sweetly at Elijah.

You clenched your jaw, forcing a smile on your face. "Of course, anything for you, Hayley."

Elijah frowned, turning his head to look at you. He gave you a look, and you sighed, closing your eyes. You took a deep breath, you hated feeling this way, it made you irrational and stupid. You had nothing to be jealous about.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room." You said, standing up.

"I'll join you," Rebekah said, and you nodded and followed her.

The two of you walked to the restroom, your steps were hurried, and your hands shook.

"What's wrong?" Rebekah asked, frowning.

"Nothing, I'm fine." You said, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were a little glassy.You began to touch up your make-up, trying to distract yourself.

"You don't seem fine, tell me what's going on." Rebekah said, stepping closer to you.

"It's just-," you took a deep breath, trying to calm your beating heart. "Hayley and Elijah."

"What about them?"

"Hayley is clearly into him, it's driving me crazy. It's ridiculous, I shouldn't be feeling this way." You said, looking at her.

Rebekah raised her brows, smiling slightly. "Well, well, the almighty y/n, is feeling jealousy for the first time in a thousand years."

"Yeah, and I know I'm being irrational, that's why I excused myself. I just need a minute." You said, rolling your eyes.

"Hayley is harmless." Rebekah said, gazing into the mirror. She fixed her dress, making sure it was laying perfectly on her body.

"She's been flirting with him all night and Elijah has done nothing to stop it." You said, lowering your voice.

"He's just being polite," Rebekah said, studying her nails. "But if it makes you feel better, we can always put Hayley in her place. Remind her that Elijah is very much married," she looked at you, raising her brows.

You snorted, shaking your head. "I'm not going to be petty, no matter how much I want to."

"You are so much stronger than me," Rebekah chuckled, linking her arm with yours as you left the bathroom.

As you and Rebekah reached the table, you could see Hayley was giggling, her hands resting on Elijah's bicep. She leaned in close to him, her lips almost brushing against his ear. Elijah's eyes had darkened, his brow furrowed as he whispered something in her ear, his lip curved into a smirk.

Your heart clenched as you watched him. A pang of envy swept through you and you let out a shaky breath. Rebekah gave you a sympathetic smile, squeezing your arm.

Elijah noticed you standing there, and looked at you, his brown eyes worried. He excused himself from Hayley, moving to you, he wrapped an arm around your waist, leading you to your seat.

"Are you alright, my love? You seem flushed," Elijah murmured.

"I'm alright, too much wine," You replied, avoiding his gaze.

Elijah didn't believe you, but wasn't about to start an argument in front of everyone. So he settled for tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, before placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smiled at his action, your heart fluttering slightly. No matter how angry and jealous you might be at him, he always seemed to know what to do to make you feel a little bit better.

As dinner went on, you saw that Hayley kept staring at Elijah out of the corner of your eye and it made your stomach turn. The way her eyes gazed at him with such affection. Elijah didn't even seem to notice. Instead he chatted with his brothers and sisters, his hand never leaving yours. His thumb caressed your knuckles, rubbing soothing circles on them.

Klaus brought out his phone and started sharing pictures and videos of his daughter. Elijah was grinning ear to ear, commenting on every single thing he was shown. The sounds of laughter around you made your chest swell, you felt good to see your family enjoying themselves.

Hayley seized this opportunity, shuffling closer to Elijah, leaning into him as she showed him her own videos of Hope. She would poke his shoulder and give him that innocent little smile. You clenched your jaw as you saw her press her breasts against his arm, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

You didn't like feeling this insecure and irrational, but you couldn't help it. The envious feeling was growing as you watched them interact. Elijah's brown eyes were soft as he gazed at Hayley. Smiling as he said something that made her laugh, head tilting back.

You couldn't help but compare yourself to her, you weren't as thin or as beautiful. You were taller, your breasts were bigger and your eyes wider. You usually weren't self conscious about your own looks, but today, you felt inadequate. She seemed like a more fitting partner for your husband.

You wanted to leave the restaurant, but you didn't want to make a scene. It was obvious that Elijah hadn't really noticed what was happening and you didn't want to look like a jealous wife.

"Excuse me, I would like to make a toast," Hayley said, raising her voice slightly. Everyone's heads turned to look at her, and you followed suit.

She stood up, her gaze focused on Elijah. You suddenly had a bad feeling, and you wanted to look anywhere but her, to keep from showing how upset you were.

"I just want to say," Hayley started, her hands clasped together. "Elijah, I've always admired you. You've always been so kind and generous to me and my daughter,"

You looked up at Elijah, and you could see his surprise, his brows raised. Hayley continued, "Over the past couple of years, I've grown to love and respect you, and I just wanted you to know that." She took a breath, and then reached a hand to touch Elijah's cheek. Your own heart started pounding.

Elijah stared up at her with confusion in his brown eyes, and Hayley laughed nervously. You were aware of the way Freya, Kol, Klaus, and Rebekah were watching you, but you couldn't take your eyes off of Elijah, to see how he responded.

She pulled back her hand slowly, then grabbed a hold of the champagne in front of her, swirling it around as she took a breath and held it out to him.

"To Elijah." Hayley said, smirking down at him.

He clinked his glass against hers. His own brown eyes were glazed with surprise as he held her gaze. He smiled softly, murmuring "thanks" under his breath.

You clenched your jaw, your fingers gripped the table cloth as you fought the urge to say something snarky, or throw something. Elijah turned to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. "Are you okay?" He whispered.

"I'm fine." You forced a smile as you took a deep breath.

He kissed your cheek, lingering his lips on your skin, his hand patted your side. You wished you could simply pull his face to yours and make him forget about everyone but you.

Your emotions threatened to get the better of you and you just wanted to leave the restaurant already, and be alone with your husband.

The end of the night couldn't come soon enough, and you all got into your respective cars. You and Elijah left the restaurant, the car ride quiet as you stared out the window.

"You're awfully quiet, what's wrong, love?" Elijah asked, his brows furrowing.

"Nothing." You said.

"Y/n." He frowned, his hand squeezing your thigh. You sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

"I don't want to argue in the car, you should focus on the road." You said, keeping your eyes forward.

You could feel his gaze boring into you, his hand moved to yours, bringing it up to his lips. He kissed the back of your hand softly.

"When we get home, you are going to tell me why you're so upset." He murmured against your skin.

When the two of you finally returned home, you immediately went to the bedroom. Your shoulders were tense, your chest was tight and your stomach churning.

Elijah followed behind you, watching as you undressed, taking off your dress, throwing it into the laundry basket. Your jaw was clenched, and he stood behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Elijah-" You started, but he cut you off with a kiss to your neck, his arms tightening their hold. His hands pressed against your stomach, and you felt his nose bumping your ear. His lips were soft as they explored the skin of your neck, nibbling it softly.

He turned you around and your hands came to his jaw. His lips were upturned, his brown eyes were warm. He cocked his head, gazing down at you.

"Tell me what's wrong." He whispered.

"It's stupid, I'm just feeling insecure." You said, looking into his dark eyes. Elijah frowned, bringing his thumb up to stroke your cheek.

"Why?" He asked, his brows furrowed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back your emotions. He could always get a sense of whether or not you were telling the truth.

"I just-," you sucked in a breath, closing your eyes. "Hayley clearly likes you,"

"I think she actually used the word love." Elijah teased, his brows raised. You glared at him and he chuckled softly.

"Is that why you've been so tense all evening? You were jealous?" He asked, pulling you flush against him.

You let out a shaky breath, avoiding his gaze. "Well you didn't exactly try to dissuade her." You mumbled, your hands pressed against his chest.

"Do you know what I was thinking about all night? How much I wish we didn't have to sit through dinner at the restaurant, and how much I wish we were alone, right here in our bed." Elijah whispered, and you felt your heart flutter.

"I've only ever had eyes for you, my love," He murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "My darling, you were the only woman I saw. Hayley could have been naked on top of me, and I wouldn't have been interested."

You smiled slightly at that, your hands resting on his shoulders. Elijah gazed into your eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Do you need me to show you? Remind you how much I love you?" He murmured, his face inches from yours.

"How would you show me?" You whispered. His brown eyes flickered with lust as he grinned, pulling back slightly. He brought his hands up to his tie, yanking it loose before pulling it off of his neck.

He smirked, wrapping the tie around his fist, slowly backing you up against the wall. Your breath was caught in your throat as you gazed up at him.

Elijah easily pinned you up against the wall, wrapping the tie around your wrists, and securing them above your head. You sucked in a sharp breath as he put his hand against your neck, his touch gentle.

"I don't like seeing you upset," Elijah whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "Not when I can make you feel better." He punctuated his sentence with a kiss to your jaw, then your neck.

"You're all I've ever wanted. You're the only woman I've ever loved and the only woman I've been attracted to. You're the love of my life," Elijah spoke, his tone soft and sincere. His breath fanned against your lips, and you parted them as he pressed his against yours.

He kissed you gently, his tongue swiping over yours slowly. You gasped, your wrists straining against the tie. His hands tightened around your wrists as he pushed you against the wall.

He broke the kiss, his eyes looking down at you. "Do you remember our first time together?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. You smiled slightly, a fond memory resurfacing.

"On a blanket under the stars. The only light was the moon, and you were so beautiful." Elijah smiled, his hand tilting your chin so you would look up at him. "How old were we? Seventeen?"

"It was a beautiful night, after hours of you telling me about the constellations. I had to shut you up somehow." You giggled before he pressed his lips against yours.

"It's a beautiful night tonight as well, we should go out, like we did back then. Make love under the stars." He spoke, brown eyes filled with affection.

Before you could answer he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your tied wrists around his neck. He walked past the bed and grabbed a blanket on the way, then carried you outside.

The cool night air seeped into your skin, but you didn't mind, Elijah kept you warm, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck. He set you down and laid out the blanket on the grass.

The backyard was illuminated by moonlight, and you could see the stars glistening in the sky. Elijah pulled you down with him, laying with you, his lips reconnecting with yours. Your body melted as he deepened the kiss, and you let out a small moan.

Elijah chuckled softly, hands roaming your body, fumbling with the lacy straps of your bra. "My darling, I don't think we'll need this tonight." His hands moved to the front clasp, expertly undoing it.

You loved it when Elijah undressed you. His large hands touched every inch of your skin. His lips always followed a path that was outlined by his fingertips. You watched him take off your panties, enjoying how his eyes darkened with lust and his smile curled.

Your hands ached to feel him, but they were still bound. Elijah kept you pressed against the soft blanket, spreading your legs for him.

He trailed a line of kisses down your stomach, not letting his lips miss any patch of skin. Your thighs trembled with excitement as you felt his breath ghost over your pussy. He grabbed your thighs, spreading them wider as he licked a stripe up.

You moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt his tongue, circling your clit before slipping inside you. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your hands trembled in their restraints as you ran them clumsily through his hair.

Elijah could stay in between your thighs all day. He remembered that first night together so vividly, remembering the way you had moaned and gripped his hair. Everything about you was intoxicating, and he never wanted the moment to end.

Your hips jerked up as you felt a coil grow in your core, your orgasm building. Elijah was coaxing it out of you, his lips sucking on your clit. A guttural moan escaped you, your back arching off of the ground.

His strong hands pressed against your hips to keep them still as his tongue moved quicker, coaxing every bit of pleasure from you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes, and you moaned Elijah's name desperately.

Elijah pulled away from you, a wicked smile on his face as he leaned up to kiss you deeply. He was still fully clothed, his hair messy and face glistening with the evidence of your pleasure.

"I love you so much, darling." He whispered against your lips. His fingers ran over your breasts, descending further down your body. He dipped a finger inside you, and you let out a soft gasp.

"Tell me about our first night together, Love." He said, slowly pushing in another finger, smiling as you moaned.

You trembled under his hands, and Elijah's eyes darkened as he watched you, loving the way you gave in to his touch.

"We had both snuck out, you told me to meet you in the clearing..." you said, cheeks red. Elijah pumped his fingers in and out of you, his forehead pressed against yours.

"You had stolen some mead from the cellars, and you brought candles and blankets. Always such a romantic." You moaned. Elijah had added a third finger, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

"Go on." He murmured, speeding up his movements. You cried out, squirming under him. He pressed down on your stomach with his other hand.

"You had led me over to the blankets. We'd barely drank the mead. And you told me that-"

"I told you that I had loved you for a very long time. I could hardly believe how lucky I was, finally being able to hold you in my arms." Elijah finished, his mouth twitching into a smile.

He kept fingering you, holding your gaze as you gasped. "You were so timid when I took your dress off, and I kept kissing you, murmuring about how beautiful you were." He said, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers.

You sucked in a breath and threw your head back, moaning as you climaxed. Elijah chuckled as he pulled out his wet fingers. He kissed your lips softly, brushing the stray hairs off of your face. He undid his tie from around your wrists, freeing your hands, and pulling you to his chest.

"I remember the way you looked at me when I made love to you." Elijah smirked, eyes falling to your naked figure, one of his hands tangled in your hair. He pecked your lips again. "I remember how tight and warm you felt, and how amazing it felt being inside you for the first time."

Your hands began to unbutton his shirt. You panted against his lips, sitting up. Elijah sat up with you, shrugging his shirt off and tossing it aside. His hands rubbed your arms gently, encouraging you.

You smiled, kissing his chest. His heartbeat quickened, his breath hitching as you moved over him. Your hands played with his belt, while your lips explored his skin. Elijah stared up at you through dark eyelashes, his hand brushed through your hair and then guided your head up. He pressed his lips against yours, smiling as you moaned into the kiss.

Soon you were both naked, the rest of his clothing discarded somewhere in the backyard. Elijah hovered over you, gazing down at you with affection glinting in his eyes.

"I love you, I wish you could see yourself the way I do." He murmured, cupping your cheek. You reached a hand up, intertwining your fingers with his.

He kissed your lips, lining himself up, before slowly easing in, swallowing your gasps. His hips moved slowly, his length filling you in the best way. You curled a hand around his bicep, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"You're so beautiful, my darling." Elijah cooed, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You arched your back, biting your lip. Your nails dug into his arms as he picked up the pace, his groans were muffled. He pulled back and kissed you again, his tongue battling yours as you moaned against his mouth.

You didn't need anyone else when you had Elijah. The way he touched you and praised you made you feel euphoric. No one could compare to your husband. He was all you needed, even after one thousand years of marriage.

"Elijah." You gasped his name, hands gripping his arms. He pounded into you faster, and your head spun as you neared your climax. Elijah's hands found yours as you tensed, coming undone. He gasped, grunting your name as he buried himself deep inside, filling you with his cum, collapsing onto you.

You were both covered in sweat, gasping for breath. You sighed softly as he pulled out, laying down beside you and bringing your body against his. You pressed a hand over his racing heart, feeling comforted at the sound.

Elijah's fingers slipped through your hair, he gazed down at you, his eyes glinting.

"I really mean it, you know. You're the only woman I ever want to be with." He spoke, his smile made you melt.

"I know." You whispered, kissing his chest softly.

He pulled the blanket over you, his gaze loving as he ran his hands over your body. Elijah was always so intimate after the two of you had sex, murmuring endearing words, and worshiping every bit of skin he could get his hands on. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and you snuggled closer to him, enjoying his affection.

"I'm sorry I got jealous earlier." You said softly, playing with the blanket.

Elijah let out a soft laugh, kissing the top of your head. "You had no reason to be jealous, I'll never be interested in Hayley," He moved one hand down your body, squeezing your ass. "Because I have you."

Your laugh made his heart stutter. Elijah let his hands brush over you, taking care to touch you in all the right places.

"What else do you remember about our first time together?'' He asked, nipping at your ear.

You blushed as memories flooded back, suddenly feeling shy, though the sensation didn't come very often anymore.

"How clumsy you were and how sweet," you spoke, remembering how desperate Elijah had been to please you.

"You kept apologizing whenever you thought you did something wrong." You said. Elijah's face was pressed against your neck. You turned towards him and lifted his head up, smiling at the bashful look on his face. "Not that I knew any better," you teased.

Elijah chuckled and pressed his lips against yours. One of your hands moved down his sculpted chest and stomach. Your hands always gravitated towards him, no matter how many times you had explored his body over the centuries.

"So, about our trip tomorrow." He murmured against your mouth. You let out a soft sigh, hands wrapped around his neck.

"Yes, my love?" You asked, lips ghosting over his.

"Don't bother bringing many clothes," Elijah teased, smirking against your mouth. You giggled softly, kissing his smile.

"Any reason why?" You whispered, one of your hands moving through his hair.

"Because we're not going to leave the bed."

{Moodboard->}

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