#sio writes

[moonmunson]

either way / no doubt

a/n: either way and no doubt by Odie Leigh have been on repeat currently and I relate to them so heavily so I word vomited on a Google docs. its a little rushed but oh well LMAO (I'm also always writing with a plus sized reader in mind)

cw: over thinker fem!reader, autistic coded reader, not knowing how to enter into a first serious relationship, kind lover boy!Eddie, no use of y/n

wc: 2.1k

It is the beginning of Spring when she meets Eddie Munson. Genuinely meets him, not just sees him around town and wonders what it’s like to be in his orbit. Working at the local diner, she sees him and his group of friends often. She’s served them a couple times, and they’re always respectful - albeit rambunctious. They tip well, stack their dishes for the busboys to clear, wave to her on the way out. 

It’s the day Eddie comes in by himself that marks it as different, new. He sits in her section of the diner, glances her way and then averts his gaze when she meets it. That’s odd, but she doesn’t think much else of it. Not until the end of his meal - consisting of a solitary cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie - does he stop her when she checks to see if he needs anything. 

He asks if she’d want to hang out sometime, and she laughs - a forced exhale of nerves. He asks why she’s laughing, and she doesn’t know what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, she relents and shrugs. What would we do? He says anything she wants. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to do? He says they’ll figure it out together. 

They end up sitting in the back of Eddie’s van, the open doors facing Lover’s Lake. She’s fidgety, and stumbling over her words. He keeps staring at her when she talks and she’s not used to anybody doing this much work to stay focused on her and what she has to say, especially because she’s not saying much of substance. He asks her so many questions, and mundane ones at that. How are classes at the community college? What’s your major? She answers as best she can. 

The feeling of someone looking at her makes her skin crawl. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she’s uncomfortably aware of the position of her nose on her face, which seems incredibly silly, and then she’s thinking about just how silly that is when he asks her if she’s alright. 

“Sorry?”

“I was just asking if you felt alright. It looked like you went away for a second there,” Eddie ducks his head down to catch her line of sight. Eye contact has always been difficult for her, but this is different - warm - like sunshine. “I know I’m not the most exciting person to talk to, but I hope you’re having a good time. I enjoy talking to you.” 

“I’m here, sorry. I like talking to you too.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay.”

“Sorry. Oh-” She sucks in a breath and places her hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the realization of her mistake. He giggles, a sweet boyish sound, and it warms his face. She thinks she could love that face, if he let her. If she knew how. She laughs too, despite herself. “It’s a bad habit. I really have to stop apologizing so much.” 

He’s still smiling when he says it’s okay, he understands. 

Later, when he drops her off at her apartment, the sun has gone down. The ride he’d offered her is relatively quiet. It’s a strange thing, to see the way someone adjusts themself around you. The usual loud heavy metal is absent here. The fast driving and sharp turns are traded in for complying with the speed limit, graceful steering and soft brakes. When he looks at her, she directs her gaze out the window - when she looks at him, he is focused on the road. 

He stops her as she takes off her seatbelt and goes to open the door, jumping out of his own and running around the front of the van to open it for her. She leads him to her front door, and he asks if he can see her again, if he can have her number. She nods, and rummages around her purse for a few frantic seconds before finding her waitress notepad and pen. When she rips the page out that she’s written her number on and hands it to him, he clutches it to his chest and smiles.  

“I’ll call you when I get home, if that’s okay. Just to let you know I made it back safely.”

“And if I want to keep talking to you?”

“We can talk for as long as you want to.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie walks backwards for a few seconds, keeping his eyes locked on hers, paper still against his heart. By the time he’s made it back to his van, he lifts a hand up for a short wave goodbye, and turns to face the vehicle. 

Now or never. 

“Eddie?” In true Munson fashion, he whips around completely at the sound of her calling out to him. 

“Yeah, sweets?” 

“I just wanted to tell you I had a really nice time with you today. I can’t wait for you to call me later.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, needing to do something with her hands to offset the nausea brought about by her impulsive vulnerability. He smiles wider, if that’s even possible. 

“I’m glad you had a good time. I’ve been wanting to ask you out forever, Gareth and the guys kept busting my balls about it. I promise I’ll call when I get home.” 

She nods, her eyes tracking his steps as he makes it to his car. She watches him drive off. It feels so strange, this immediate wanting him to come back, wanting him to come inside and crawl into her brain. To know her fully. It scares her in a way she’s incredibly unused to. When she can’t hear the music blasting from his speakers anymore, she makes her way inside and slumps against the door for a few seconds. 

He does call when he gets home, and they talk until the sun rises. 

__

They spend the next few days talking on the phone. It’s easier like this, she thinks. She doesn’t have to worry about the way she looks when she’s thinking of something to say. She doesn’t have to avoid his white hot gaze, the way she can feel it trail over her face when she’s speaking. If he notices how much more she opens up to him when they’re not actively sitting next to each other, he doesn’t mention it. 

When they’re not on the phone, he clings to her brainspace like moss on a tree. She can’t stop thinking about him, to the point she’s worried she’s obsessing over something that isn’t there. He’d said he had a good time, he said he enjoyed talking to her, so why does it keep bothering  her so much? He feels safe. He does feel safe, but she’s not used to conversations with no expectations. No guise, no hidden agenda. If he notices the way she starts to pull away due to her overthinking, her sentences shorter and stunted, he doesn’t mention it. He carries on as usual, calling her to talk about what he’d done that day. It makes her smile. 

When he asks, unprompted, if he can see her again, she says yes. 

__

They go to the lake again. It is an early March morning, the last tendrils of Winter still grasping desperately for some kind of recognition against early Spring. He brings a blanket and hot cocoa for both of them, and she feels it in her chest - warm and sweet and chocolatey, like his eyes. It’s easier this time, talking to him. She spends less time worried about her posture and cadence - more time really listening to him speak and trying her hardest to maintain eye contact. 

The early morning breeze makes ripples on the otherwise still surface of the water. It’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. He’s so expressive when he speaks. She used to think he was careless, jumping on tables and riling up the people he knew didn’t like him. Seeing him up close like this, she realizes it’s kind of the opposite. It’s careful, planned, the way he uses his hands, his eyes. Even when he’s talking about a book he's read a million times, she feels like she's there among the scenery and characters he describes. It’s entirely captivating. She wants to be more like him. Carefully carefree. 

She’s never done this kind of thing - the relationship kind of thing. If that’s what this is, she has no idea how to traverse this new terrain. She can’t find her footing, she doesn’t know what the formula is, what the proper way to go about it looks like. She doesn’t think about sounding weird when she asks:

“What are we doing?” 

Eddie pauses mid sip, brings the cup back down to his lap. 

“Currently? Or like, with our lives?” He chuffs out a little laugh. Not in a teasing way, though it's hard for her to differentiate. “Because currently, from my perspective at least, I’m sitting in my van with a pretty girl talking about our favorite books. What I’m doing with my life is something a lot of people, including me, would really like to know.” 

Levity, she recognizes. 

“Sorry if it's a weird question, I just…” She trails off, breaking eye contact, looking at her hands in her lap. He scoots forward a bit, the side of his thigh touching hers as their legs dangle off the back of the van. He doesn’t push her to say anything, doesn’t acknowledge the unneeded apology, doesn’t fill the silence with his own voice.  He just waits, patiently. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sit this still. 

“I really like you, and I really like talking to you. I’ve never done anything like this,” She uses her pointer finger to gesture between the two of them, drawing a connecting line between their bodies, “I don’t know how to, if that makes sense. I’m not really a lot of people’s type, I guess.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie sets the cup down next to him and very gently takes her hand, locks their fingers together. When she raises her eyes to meet his, he continues. “There’s no rush, I mean it. You set the pace here, okay? I like you, like a lot. If all you wanna do is sit here and talk, I’m totally fine with that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, sweets.” 

“What if you find out how weird I am and decide you don’t want to talk to me anymore?” 

At this, Eddie relinquishes his grip on her hand, hops down from the lip of the back of the van, and stands in front of her. 

“Y’know who you’re talking to?” two thumbs pointed towards himself - eyebrows raised, mouth quirked in a goofy grin, “King of the freaks, misfits, and ne'er do wells. I don’t think you could scare me off, but you’re certainly welcome to try.” 

“So just… be myself?” She scrunches her face up - the idea of being genuine is almost totally foreign to her. 

“Be yourself!” 

“Ew. Yeah, alright, fine.” She sighs in resignation and shrugs a shoulder. Doesn’t think about how convincing he is, or how willing she was to drop some of her defenses. Carefully carefree. She can do it. 

They share a laugh, finishing their luke-warm cocoa together and talking until the sun is high in the sky and the temperature rises too high for them to ignore any longer. This time, the drive home is less quiet. She meets his gaze when he looks over at her from the driver’s seat, she hums along to the sound of the radio, it's nice. Comfortable. 

Just like last time, Eddie hastens to run around the van and open her door for her. He extends a hand to help her down and out, and they stay connected on the short journey to her apartment’s front door. Eddie watches while she digs the keys out of her purse, unlocking the door and leading the both of them inside for a drink. He kicks his shoes off by the welcome mat, and they look like they belong there. 

It is the beginning of Spring when Eddie Munson permanently plants himself in her life, a steadfast source of comfort and nourishment. It is hard for her, and it takes longer than most for her to truly open up. To show him all the nooks and crannies of her mind. He takes it all in stride - her overthinking, her quirks and neuroses. He shows her that it is entirely impossible to trust someone enough to take part in the watering and flowering - that it's not a weight she has to hold alone. She can bloom.

__

if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog!!

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

ch. 22 (the very last one!) of my ryu shi-oh x ofc (with a crossover into lovely runner) is now up!

this is the very end — check it out. :)

[theadventuresofcas]

so i've been getting back into the Set it Off Elsewhere lore recently and i thought about what other bands would be like in the Elsewhere universe (and because i feel the need to assign everything a category what colour they would be). i have a few ideas about bands like waterparks but i'm interested in other peoples ideas

[bananacat76]

guys io dont thin k i can do it today

[capow02]

Hi everyone. Yes I do see all the asks in my inbox. I've just gotten a new job and I suddenly feel like I have no free time, so I haven't had the energy to do anything except reblog stuff on here. But don't worry, I will be answering them soon!

If not tomorrow, then over the weekend sometime :))

[pyotan]

From the Sea to You

While Morus is usually one to prefer the ocean waters over land, he finds this rare moment of docking at a small isle to be a blessing..

It’s good to stretch one’s body out from the confinements of a cramped ship every once in a while, and it’s especially necessary when the reason for being out on the seas is purely for work.

The bringing in of fish has been nonstop so.. the fact that Morus is able to actually breathe and have a moment of thought and to himself is, well.. /very/ nice.

He hums as he aimlessly walks along the shoreline.. No plans or destination in mind, just simply going wherever the sands lead him.

He’s not quite sure how long he’s been walking like this but.. he’s not a bit tired especially as he feels almost recharged to be beneath the moon and star light.. Truly a keeper in blood.

As Morus treks along in thoughtless bliss, he accidentally steps upon something and nearly trips over it in surprise despite whatever it is feeling small.

“Woah!”

But Morus has always been just a tad clumsy.. So it’s no wonder that he almost falls flat on his face in the sands.

But! He catches his footing and adjusts with a proud stance for just a moment.. before he turns right back around to look down into the sands.. taking notice of a round shape beneath the grains of sand, Morus plops down on his knees and begins to dig..

And really, he doesn’t need to do much to expose the item that had tripped him for his large hands so easily are able to scoop and brush away the blanketing of sand..

Some sort of.. glass..?

A head tilt, Morus begins to pull it forth from it’s bury and is quick to dust away the grains and bring the item up to the moon above for better lighting.. despite being able to see so easily in the dark naturally..

“A.. snow globe? What in’da world..”

What.. a strange item to find! But it’s clearly been out in the wild for a while for it’s not only dirtied by the sands and chipped from the damage of nature, but it’s spotted in algae.. The globe has very much been washed upon the shore quite some time ago..

Turning it in the moonlight, he can see an assortment of fish swimming in it’s confined waters.. they even glitter under the light! Shapes simply that of fish, there isn’t anything specific about them.. but even still, it feels precious to hold this odd item he’d found..

And immediately.. his thoughts go to his Mackerel back home..

This is.. something Siobhahn might appreciate.. for it’s like a little treasure despite it’s worn..

A toothy grin as he brings it to his chest now as if it were truly treasure, he gives a sigh as he finds himself pining for them..

he’s not sure when he’ll see them again for the summer still has moons to go but.. Perhaps he could find a post mog to deliver this.. to let Siobhahn know that they are thought of even a sea away..

[heycerulean]

they murder me

[dxckgrxsonx]

#9 with Jason Todd PLEASE I beg of u

Title: Payback, Backfired. Pairing: Jason Todd x (F) Reader, (Mentions of ExBF!Dick Grayson x (F) Reader). Words: 1.4k Warnings: SMUT 18+ Plot: Prompt 9 from this list. Revenge Sex. (Readers ex is Dick Grayson.) Notes: i literally had so much fun writing this. also hi my beautiful darling @sio-ina-bottle thank you sm for requesting this prompt ily <3

****

“Tell me.” Jason starts the second he sinks the tip of his cock into you, mouth twisted into a fucked up grin, all sharp and triumphant; like getting into your pants grants him some sort of award, maybe something akin to bragging rights. “Is he better than me?”

Your answer circles around a snarl, fury swelling thick and suffocating between your teeth, “Shut the fuck up. The last thing I want to be thinking about is my ex whilst you’re fucking me!”

Hindsight knocks at the edges of your skull, perspective swinging on its head to offer a different look at what you’ve gotten yourself into, because decisions birthed in the face of spite and heartbreak don’t typically have happy endings.

If you’re honest with yourself though, things have limits.

However, a compelling argument to it is this: you’re long past caring.

You’re hurting–more than you ever thought capable–and more than three-quarters of you wants him to hurt too.

You think of the breakup all over again and your stomach rolls, eyes burning, Dick Grayson was supposed to be the one you built a future with; the one you looked at and never turned away from. But he didn’t seem to have much trouble walking away from a relationship spanning almost a year.

“Hm.” Jason almost purrs, bottoming out, stretching your pussy wider than it’s ever been before because he’s thick and so heavy. “Your ex must have been something special if you’re getting all teary on me.”

His hand reaches up, palm covering your cheek so he can thumb away the wetness from your eyes. Under different circumstances the action would make you melt–would probably have you squeezing at his cock like you’re coming–but Dick would do the same thing when your emotions bubbled over and you can’t stand it.

There’s also the look on Jason’s face, the twitch in his mouth, the glimmer in his eyes. It’s almost like he’s conquered something; capitalised on someone else’s failure and taken it as his own.

“Be quiet.” Your voice shakes until you tighten your jaw to settle it. “And take your fucking hand off my face before I chew it off.”

Jason’s hand grabs at your jaw as he shifts, pulling out and sinking back in so your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He laughs, free hand sliding around the back of your knee to stretch you open wider, and you can’t quite silence your whimper as the head of his cock rubs so sweetly inside you.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth.” He hisses, pressing his fingers into your cheek to force open your mouth, the callouses on the tip of his pointer finger digs into your skin and you kick up your hips in frustration. “I take it he didn’t treat you like this very often, huh? You’re clearly not used to anything like this.”

The rhythm Jason sets is easy, a slick glide of his cock splitting you open until the empty space Dick left is filled with pleasure and your own weeping cunt. Something sparks up the length of your spine when he rubs at your clit and you groan, body shaking apart.

“You have no idea of the things he did to me.” Your words are slightly slurred from the way Jason shoves his fingers into your cheek, and the discomfort from it overlaps with the wet smack of his hips. “You’d be appalled.”

In your relationship, Dick was many things to you, a soft touch, a problem solver, clever beyond anything you’d ever seen before. But there were moments in your sex life where he was mean; when he guided you beyond anything you thought possible and made you hurt and beg and cry.

And the truth of it is: you absolutely loved it.

The world tips when Jason flips you over, and instead of being flat on your back–his well muscled body bullying you into the mattress–you’re manhandled onto your knees, face down in the pillows. His cock parts your folds, the tip pushing from your entrance to your clit and back again.

He angles his hips and pushes into you in one long stroke.

You moan and spasm around him.

“How about here?” He asks, pausing to hold himself deep in your pussy as his thumb rubs over your asshole. “Did he ever fuck you here?”

The noise you make is unhinged, a sob stuck between fury and ecstasy. Of course he’s fucked you there, you want to snap, worked you open using his fingers and tongue until you cried so softly for him to please, please fuck your ass.

But you can’t speak. Not when Jason fucks you, sinks his thumb juuust past that tight ring of muscle and praises you for taking it so well.

“Stop talking about him.” You try to say, every part of you shaking and fucked open. “The whole point of fucking you is to stop thinking of him.”

Jason stops talking eventually, which should have been a relief. But rather than putting energy into taunting reactions out of you. He fucks you through orgasm after orgasm until you splinter and crack, calling Jason’s name, overstimulated and vibrating like a live-wire.

His resounding laugh in response holds weight, holds something you’re not privy to.

If you had any sense about you, you would almost think he knows exactly who your ex is, despite the fact you’ve not once mentioned his name. Hell. The whole point of you taking Jason home was out of revenge because maybe, just maybe, Dick would find out and hurt just as much as you.

****

There’s noise coming from the living room.

Sheets off, you shuffle around your bedroom, Jason still sleeping in your bed. He’s completely naked, fabric pooling at his waist. The expanse of his chest is littered with scars, some thin and faded, others thick and pink with raised tissue. Oddly, it makes him more attractive, but you’re not sure if it’s because Dick had scars too.

You should know, after all, you’d pressed your lips against every single one of them.

The closest article of clothing is his t-shirt and you slip it over your head, the hem settling comfortably against the tops of your thighs. Underwear comes next, but the pair you find are torn, seams ripped apart under Jason’s hands. You ignore the arousal still clinging to the gusset of the fabric, the wetness soaked through when you flirted with Jason.

Frustration flares. He’s such a prick.

Finding your pyjama pants you slip them on and move towards the door. Glancing back at Jason you hesitate for a handful of seconds before exhaling and continuing forwards. He can get himself up if things go to shit.

Coming into the living room you freeze.

“What are you doing here?”

Dick stops at the sound of your voice, head snapping towards you so fast you take a half-step back. There’s a box on the coffee table, half filled with his things, in his hand is one of his hoodies–all black with a brilliant blue stripe down the sleeves–the very first one of his you ever wore.

“Getting my things.” Dick answers eventually. He sounds tired. You want to cry. “Figured I’d be able to get them before you woke up.”

You hum, not trusting your voice.

You still haven’t moved.

He continues, “I think there's some more stuff in the bedroom if you don’t mind.” It’s not a question, it’s a heads up of where he’ll be going next and you bristle.

“You can’t go in there right now.”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, attention shifting to your slightly ajar bedroom door, “Why not.” He looks at you again, bright blue eyes lingering on the shirt you’re wearing. “That’s not mine.” Everything about his voice is unrecognisable and all the hair along your arms prick up.

Time stutters and stalls when Jason breaks the threshold, still shirtless, jeans hung obscenely low at his hips. The grin on his face is downright mocking, there isn’t a single thing on his face that isn’t coated in near cruelty.

You feel caught up in the middle of something you had no idea about. Jason was a quick, easy fuck. Someone you didn't know, someone you didn't think had any real connection to Dick; someone you could have used to make him jealous.

But right now, looking at the outright horror on Dick's face, and remembering the way Jason looked at you last night, you think he might have played you both.

“What’s up, Dickie.” Jason says, tone scarily even. He slings an arm over your shoulders and stares Dick in the eye, “You don’t mind me fucking your ex do you?”

****

[qwanderer]

Doing all this research for this Eliot/OC fic because of all the elements of their lives I'm unfamiliar with and still found myself going "how do I even get a feel for some of this"

Then on my podcasts the KF guys interviewed a woman with five dogs and trauma and medical problems and then Thomas interviewed a YouTube chef about some of his top tips for beginners so now I'm like. The universe knows what I'm writing! The universe provides!

There's still a lot I have to figure out, this fic is an excellent way to occupy my creative brain for a while and learn some stuff! But it's nice that I'm getting a little help with the parts that were confounding me.

[evalevaeva]

Hi! Do you write headcanons? If not than you can just write it as a fic or ignore it. It's ok 😊.

Ryu sio falls in love with a soft and sweet female reader who genuinely cares for him and wants to be his friend unlike Nam soon. He was at first skeptical about her and used to be rude towards her. But slowly he realised that reader is actually a sweet person and wasn't pretending to get close to him. So he starts to like her and tries to win her love.

Thank you 😊

Ryu Sio falling in love with someone sweet:

thank you anon! is this how i make a headcanon

- i think he'd definitely be a bit skeptical after everything that happened with namsoon

- he'd be the type to fall in love at first sight

- he'd walk into the office and you'd be walking into the office with a coffee in hand and he'd be absolutely smitten

- he'd tell himself that he was just being tricked again, but he'd find himself taking walks around the office to catch a glimpse of you

- he'd eventually give your team more benefits, and eventually, he'll begin talking to you

- sio would convince himself that he was just using you to get over namsoon

- would see you as a replacement and would switch moods really fast

- he'd probably think that all your kindness was a facade

- would try to push you to your limit, but somehow, you're too patient and thought he just needed to vent anger

- but he'd find himself waiting for your calls, waiting for your texts and waiting for you

- you'd probably be a bit confused at first, i mean, your boss is literally taking an interest in you

- eventually, he'd find small things about you that he likes

- he'd be in his fancy car, passing the alleyway to your house and he'd see you helping a grandma carry her groceries home, and he'd find himself smiling and giggling like a teenage girl

- he'd find you feeding the neighbourhood cat, and he'd ask you if you like them

- if you say yes, be prepared to get kittens as your christmas gift

- this man doesn't hold back when it comes to you

- whatever you want, is whatever you'll get. he doesn't care if you wanted a mansion, he'll get it.

- he would feel doubts once in a while, but then he'll see your text and he's all good again

- he's definitely a hugger

- would lean onto you (eventhough hes two heads taller than you)

- definitely a gift giver and is big on pda

- wouldn't want you to be in danger because you're in a relationship with him, but can't stop himself from holding your hand or clinging onto you

- I'd like to think he would try to convince you to just become his assistant because you're too sociable with everyone in the office

- would get jealous and be all clingy when you take too long to talk to your manager

- would get jealous when you go out for lunch with your coworkers and not him, even though you spend way more time with him

- you'd make a bento box for him to bring to lunch, and he'd be all smiley the whole day, and he'd take a lot of photos of it

- would have a whole album in his gallery of just photos of the both of you and would open it everytime he feels stressed

- he'd probably hide the whole pavel thing from you because he doesn't want you to worry or think he's a monster

- if you did find out, you'd probably be more worried about him than you already were

- if you were worried he was overworking himself, now you were worried for his life

- you'd make him text you every few hours to make sure he's alright and he'd feel guilty because you're worrying for him

- he'd make sure you know his every whereabout so you won't have to worry as much

[makethatelevenrings]

Regency AU - Jason Todd

@sio-ina-bottle pls don't look at my discord profile and see how long I played Vivaldi and the Bridgerton OST on repeat when writing this I beg of you.

This is part of the 5k followers celebration. There are still spots open! Get your requests in now!

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, alludes to abusive relationships and cheating, allusions to Jason's PTSD/past (war)

The Wayne Ball was one of the highlights of the season, your mother reminded you. It was a full day event that would require you to be at your best for the entire day. You would need to smile until your jaw ached, dance until your shoes pinched your feet, and talk about meaningless things until your brain felt like it might atrophy. But it was necessary to secure a husband.

Ever since your father’s gambling debt increased and your family coffers decreased, the pressure on you grew. Your mother had expressed her regret of it “being like this” but she didn’t seem to care if you liked the man you were supposed to marry. She shoved you at any willing man of the Ton, even if rumors swirled around his late night visits to a brothel or his heavy-handedness with his late wife.

This was your fate, it seemed.

The small crystalline glass of lemonade that you gripped in your hand seemed to be your lifeline. You were unable to dance if you were parched and so you took your time savoring the taste of its tartness against your tongue. Somewhere in the crowd of people, your mother discussed with the other worried mothers of hopeless girls, most likely lamenting over how pathetic your marriage prospects seemed.

Baron Lawrence Crock eyed you from across the room and you blanched, raising your glass to your lips in an attempt to evade his glance. Your dance card was only half-full and you knew he had expressed interest in you before. Yet the stories of his cruelty made you wary. A disinterested man you could marry, but a cruel one?

You slipped past the crush of bodies that lingered on the edges of the dance floor and made your way towards the door. One glance behind you confirmed your suspicions. He was making his way to you. Your mother wasn’t paying attention and even if she was, she would encourage the match. He has a sizable fortune, she would say. With money like that, you could look away when he came home late from a brothel. Just bear him one or two children and you would be fine.

Your heart thudded painfully against your chest as you escaped through the large ornate doors of the ballroom and into the velvet carpeted hall. Gathering your skirts in your hand, you hurried down the hall in any direction but here. Wayne Manor was huge and you hardly knew how to get to the ballroom. Where on earth were you heading?

“Are you alright, miss?” a gentle voice asked you as you skittered around the corner and came face to face with a hall of doors. You blanched but relaxed at the sight of a kindly old butler. He glanced over your shoulder and then smiled at you, a kind and assuring smile rather than the patronizing ones you were so used to at home.

“There’s no one following you, miss.” You startled at his words and shook your head.

“I was just looking for fresh air,” you lied. He gestured to the other end of the hall and you let out a nervous laugh. The butler didn’t appear to judge you. Rather, he seemed to understand you.

“The stars are beautiful from the balcony,” he said gently. “And I am quite proud of the flowers that line the stone. Wisteria, gardenia, and camellia.”

You brightened and took his proffered arm. “I love gardening. I’m currently growing some lilacs, but my gardener, Mrs. Haywood, tells me that I should expand. She lets me help with the vegetables and I find that fresh tomatoes are so much better than anything purchased in the market, don’t you think?”

He chuckled as the two of you stepped onto the stone balcony. “I find myself inclined to agree, miss.” The butler tilted his head towards the shadows and cleared his throat. “Master Jason, I hope you aren’t out here to avoid the ball I so painstakingly helped put together.”

A huff of laughter came from the shadows and a man followed it. The thin light of the moon coupled with the candles that burned in their sconces on the wall gave you a good look at him. He had to be one of the Wayne boys, you noted, with those teal eyes and dark hair, but you had never seen him before.

“Oh.” Your voice failed you for a moment as you took in the sheer size of him. Many of the men of the Ton boasted about their athletic accomplishments, but this man truly looked as though he engaged in some physical pursuit on the regular. A shock of white hair stood out at the front of his dark, messy locks and you had the sudden urge to run your fingers over it.

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying. “I didn’t realize someone else was out here. I can go back to th-”

“That won’t be necessary,” the man, Jason, the butler had called him, replied. “Alfred, would you be able to stay for a few moments to ensure Miss…” You offered him his name and he nodded, repeating it in that rough voice of his. “To ensure her propriety.”

A flush of indignation crept up your neck and you averted your gaze from the gentleman. Stepping closer to the fenced off edge, you craned your head up to study the stars. They truly were beautiful like Alfred said.

“Andromeda,” you breathed to yourself. Her stars glittered brightly in the night sky. The myths of antiquity had always fascinated you and you loved connecting the stars to their mythological counterparts.

“The wife of Perseus,” Lord Jason said. He settled in on the other end of the balcony and leaned against the stone. You turned your face away from his unyielding gaze and kept your focus on the sky.

“Chained to the rock because of her mother’s vanity and cruelty,” you continued. “Intended to be a sacrifice for the monster Cetus.”

“Do you believe her to be helpless?”

You considered his question and then turned to finally look at him. There was no judgment in his gaze. No cruelty or spite or anger. There was only curiosity, something you so rarely saw in the eyes of those you met at these balls.

“Yes, but no. She was helpless in that moment, but I think we all have those moments. Those times when someone else must come to the rescue, if not to save us from an outside force, but maybe from ourselves. The theme runs through a lot of stories. Heracles, Tristan and Isolde, Saint George in Spenser’s work. I think she isn’t helpless, no. I think she’s just human.”

He inhaled sharply against the night air and you were afraid that you had said the wrong thing. This wasn’t a proper topic of discussion for a young woman. Perhaps you should go back inside. Your mother was probably looking for you.

You turned to head back inside when his voice stopped you. “And do you believe that he truly fell in love with her with just one look?”

The moon bathed your face as you faced him and he noted the way it made your eyes shine just a little brighter. He had been in the ballroom when you were pressed in the corner, avoiding everyone’s gaze. No matter how hard he tried, he had been unable to tear his gaze from you. When he saw you escape from the ballroom, he took that as his chance to go outside and take a deep breath, maybe smoke a cigarette.

He never accounted for you.

“Is it foolish for me to say that I do believe he did?”

Jason couldn’t tear his eyes from yours and frankly, he didn’t want to. There was something about you that made him want to find the nearest monster that threatened you and slay it. After he came back from war, his family noted the darkness in his eyes and the sleepless nights. He played pretend at these stupid balls with no intention of forcing someone into a loveless marriage. How could he be a good husband when he couldn’t seem to wipe the blood off his hands?

He looked at them now and saw nothing but scarred skin.

“You like to read?” he asked carefully. You seemed more settled now and you made your way back to the stone railing. When your eyes met the sky once more, he took in the soft slope of your neck and the curve of your jaw. His hands curled into fists in an attempt to stop him from reaching out and touching the small tendril of hair that curled around your ear.

“I enjoy it.” You said it as if you had to balance every word. “Do you?”

“The library here at the manor is brilliant,” came his breathless reply. “Books from all around the world. You could read all day for the rest of your life and never finish them all.”

“That sounds wonderful. My parents find little care for books,” you admitted. “My governess tried her best, but I’m sure I’ve missed out on many stories.”

Let me tell them to you, he wanted to say. Rather, he merely replied with, “I could show it to you. The library, that is.”

Alfred cleared his throat, a tinge of regret in the old man’s face, and he gestured towards the open door. “Your mother will be getting worried now, miss.”

“Right. Yes. Sorry.” Jason didn’t understand why you were apologizing. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t hear the drums of war crashing in a neverending echo against his ears. He didn’t see the blood on his hands. He only saw and heard you. And then you were gone.

Two days later, you sat in the drawing room and slid the needle of your embroidery in and out of the smooth fabric. The elegant knot of yarn bloomed upon the canvas, but you found yourself unable to find joy in the small success.

“A caller for Miss,” one of the footmen announced. You set your stitching down and stood next to your mother, fully anticipating Baron Crock to step through the door and into your life.

But it was someone else entirely. Lord Jason Todd-Wayne made his formal introduction with your mother before stepping off to the side of the drawing room with you, still in full view of your chaperone.

“I brought you this,” he said softly, extending a well-worn book out to you from his seat on the opposite seat. You gingerly took it and opened the cover to find that it was an anthology of mythologies from around the world. A surprised gasp escaped you and you looked up in surprise at the man before you. His teal eyes glinted with mischief and something else. Closing the cover, you set the book next to you and busied yourself with pouring him some tea.

Perhaps this was your future. A handsome man discussing books with you as you poured him tea. There was no anger in his fists or eyes. There was no fear in your heart.

If this was your fate, you reckoned, then so be it.

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

ch. 21 of my ryu shi-oh x ofc (with a crossover into lovely runner), is now up!

we're almost at the end, folks — check it out. :)

[supercimi]

helo...hadnt realy had the energy to do anything lately.. but this this seems interesting especially since i havent completely figured out what this so called character voice i hear about often really is

current status: fighting a short story with nameless characters

imma steal this sentence and see what i churn out sorry abt that ^^;

Rules: rewrite the given line in the voice of your OCs!

line: "time to take out the trash."

the old man: well, old menace of mine, it seems your time is finally up,

the old 'menace': what are you on about old man? have you finally gone senial?!

the old man: no, you silly

'menace': Okaaay you creep me out what do you want?

the old man: me? nothing at all what would i want with you now?

'menace': then why all the sneakiness? usually you are ruder than this, you are acting weird

the old man: really?

'menace': yes, very.

the old man: well, it's nothing really, it's just that, as i told you

menace: as you told me?

the old man: your time is up

menace:...oh really?

the old man: yes

menace: then what about your time?

the old man: what of it?

menace: if my time is up then you my old partner couldn't possibly hope to stay could you?

the old man: who said i would stay?

the old man: trash cant take itself out you know?

menace: WHO ARE YOU CALLING TRASH YOU OLD HACK!

the old man: oh how smart aren't you?

menace: why yes indeed-SHUT UP YO-

the old man: hush now, there's no more time you know?

menace: WhAt Ar-

the old man: ...we need to go

MeNaCe: Go? WhEErEE?

the old man: well, i wonder?

menace: ThAt IsS UNreason-

the old man: yes yes close your eyes, it's goodbye now old menace, for you and for me..once and for all

trash shall be taken out, and now, we leave.

Character voice

Thanks @awritingcaitlin here!

Rules: rewrite the given line in the voice of your OCs!

Wow, I'm doing this tag with just one tag? Haven't done that in a hot minute.

"Stand back, I'll handle this."

Lexi: “It's okay, I got this. Just stay there. [To herself] I got this I got this I got this....”

Maddie: “I can do this. Uh, stand back.”

Ash: “Pfft, don't worry, I'll take care of this.”

Gwen: “You...may want to stand back. I'm gonna go handle this.”

Robbie: “Alright, I'll handle this. You might want to stand back. [Pause] ... I'm serious, please stand back.”

Akash: “Okay...I got this. Um... Okay, y'all may wanna stand back.”

Jedi: “Please stand back. I will handle this.”

Carmen: “I told you, I'll handle this! Now stand back!”

Tagging @duckingwriting @writingamongther0ses @winglesswriter @happypup-kitcat24 @anyablackwood

+ ANYONE ELSE

Your sentence: “Look, an anaconda!”

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[ereardon]

Darkness [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

WC: 500

Warnings: All angst

And in the darkness, she awakened. 

Fingertips on her flesh. Lips on her throat. Sighs in her ear. 

A beg, unspoken. 

She knew what he needed. There was a secret, buried deep within the dark spaces of silence that lingered between them. It was what was unsaid as they moved in rhythm. 

And when it was over, she held him in her arms and told him she would never let go. 

Bradley was quiet, but she knew what he was thinking. 

He needed her. 

***

The first time, she tried to say all of the things that had come into her head for the two weeks that he was gone. But he returned a shell. Gone was the man who stood on top of the wooden bar and sang at the top of his lungs, pulling her up with him, grinning as they swayed to the loud piano music emanating from the corner. 

The man who returned to her was a ghost of the man she loved. 

And yet, she persevered. 

She cooked his favorite meals, rented his favorite movies, organized trips to the beach. Nothing brought back the light behind his chocolate eyes. 

But when he reached for her in the middle of the night, his limbs warm on hers, she knew that he was crawling out of a nightmare she’d never see. 

And so she held him, flesh to flesh, lips on his, eyes closed but seeing all they needed to. 

And when it was over, she held him tight and promised to never let go, and finally the tears that had been building started to flow and she knew that the man who had returned had lost a piece of himself out there in the skies. 

***

Time passed, and things changed, but still she found herself reaching for him in the darkness, even when his side of the bed was cold. And the reminder that he was out there, in the unknown, burned a hole of fear in her stomach. 

But when he returned, and his side of the mattress was warm, there was still an emptiness that surrounded the bed. 

She stopped asking what had happened. 

As the lines in his face grew deeper, and as their house filled with the sound of children’s footsteps that turned from whispers to thunder, the silence grew as a weight between their hearts. 

And in the quiet, she closed her eyes. 

In the quiet, she wondered what her life would have been like if he had never stepped foot in that jet. 

In the quiet, she contemplated leaving. 

But then flesh begot flesh, and he belonged to her again, if only for a moment. 

And in the stillness, his eyes opened. 

In the darkness, he pressed his hand to her cheek. 

In the quiet, she opened her eyes. 

And then his voice, husky and deep, penetrated the air that stood so still around them. 

He asked for forgiveness, for the way he haunted her. 

She leaned forward and tipped her forehead against his. 

She needed him, too.  

Tagging some people who may be interested:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @shanimallina87 @taytaylala12 @th3-oncoming-storm @teacupsandtopgun @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia @callsign-joyride @sio-ina-bottle @startrekfangirl2233-writes @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @blackwidownat2814

[attapullman]

writing game: post the last line that you wrote and tag someone for every word in the line.

Your cheeks heat as you hear the unmistakable clink of a belt and trousers hitting the concrete floor. Thick fingers wrap around your neck as Rooster pulls your head back, allowing you a moment of fresh air down your throat before stuffing his own erection between your plush lips with a triumphant exhale. Tears rimming your lashes, you keep eye contact with Rooster as the heat of Cyclone’s gaze traces the curve of your ass. Every cell is alive with four sets of eyes acutely tuned to you.

Cursed fivesome anyone? This is a full on paragraph for context purposes.

Thanks for the tag @roosterforme @sometimesanalice 🥰

I'm laaaaate to the game so no pressure tags! @bobfloydsbabe @sio-ina-bottle @gretagerwigsmuse @creatchie8 @rhettabbotts sorry if you've already done it

[withahappyrefrain]

Ok babs, I ran through all of you Bob Floyd and Jake Seresin fics (I’m sick so I had time to indulge and they were all wonderful). Sooooo, do you have any recommendations for other Bob Floyd and Jake Seresin fics?

Sorry for just now getting back to you!

These amazing authors write for either Bob or Jake, or both and I love their work!

@lewmagoo

@roosterforme

@delopsia

@blue-aconite

@bobfloydsbabe

@attapullman

@mynameismckenziemae

@callsigns-haze

@callsignspark

@sio-ina-bottle

@sebsxphia

@theharddeck

@mothdruid

@hederasgarden

@inklore

@rhettabbotts

@bradshawsbaby

God, I feel like I'm forgetting so many people, there are so many good writers here! ❤️