#ravioli is my heart

[aka-indulgence]

@llamagoddessofficial and i came up with an original (cryptid) character hohohehu… got the idea while in the middle of all the halloween stuff :D

(click for quality)

His name is Ravioli (self proclaimed), and he’s a normal human person with normal human proportions. He likes to eat [Not Humans] and drinks [Not Blood].

He’s the local cryptid of the town, and no one really knows what his deal is but recently he became interested in dating :>

[lezabeththetheodoraimposter]

what if i told you i loved alvar? what if i told you he’s my favorite neverseen member? what if i told you he’s so pookie??

[lunar-alden]

Me: I love all the LaDS guys equally!

Also me: posts almost exclusively about Zayne and how I love this man and would die for him and just want him to be happy

[seiko-yume]

Man I haven’t even started watching all the LOTR and hobbit movies yet and I’m already shipping two tiny hairy men

[aphelea]

i have a specific note in my phone dedicated to middle of the night fanfic ideas and it’s truly a fascinating glimpse into my writing process. or lack thereof

[psqqa]

the greatest tragedy of my existence is that i didn’t make it to italy before i developed this hazelnut allergy

the greatest joy of my existence, however, is that There’s Always Pistachio

[brainstirfry]

REACTION SPEED [Heroic: failure] - a single ravioli, damp from the water, still pleasantly steaming, lands with a defeated slap, on the linoleum floor. You see it happen, watch it flip through the air, like an Olympic bronze off the high-dive, or a suicidal veteran of war. you feel yourself shout a "No!", but it is too late. there, the ravioli, impossibly, lays limp. FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - Why, it thinks, why me? For all the time I was grown and processed then crafted and for all the time I have waited for the only purpose which I was made for. To be cast so suddenly, so errantly, into the realm of the beyond? Beyond savior. DRAMA - And here you stand, clad like a captain with your wooden spoon, watching as an honorable soldier, nay, a man, lies without your hand to aid him, on the kitchen floor.

VOLITION - you must act, now! first it must be picked up, then its fate can be decided. COMPOSURE - Its fate is the trash. AUTHORITY - Its fate is the trash. YOU - You pick up the ravioli, it is hot, nearly still boiling, gushing steam and hot pasta blood down your hand. It hurts, but standing here, there is nowhere else for it. PERCEPTION - It looks fine... LOGIC - Don't do this. SHIVERS [Heroic: Success] - Somewhere southeast of here, perhaps hundreds of miles, grain sprouts in a field, rich wheat, and butternut squash, only an acre over. The wind whistles through the fields, running like gleeful children through the tiny, green plants. Some will be eaten by birds, worms, or moles, but some will reach high into the sky, where they will be plucked and ground into pasta dough. You have seen the birthplace of this soldier. It is humble, a beautiful childhood, and so, so long ago. An entire pasta-lifetime, now. FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - I thought I had finally made it. And with my brethren... YOU - You look at the bowl, the rest of the ravioli, steaming in mournful, pyrrhic celebration. My company... EMPATHY - This ravioli could be you. You can't give up on it now. Not because of your own mistake. AUTHORITY - This is not what a dignified man would do. send him off and mourn, perhaps, but do not spend one moment more considering his limp, cooling corpse. DRAMA - Where has your heart gone, O Honorable One? Authority - … EMPATHY - the greatest service you could do for this little soldier, and for all those beyond you that forged him, is to eat him. What else is rightfully to be done? VISUAL CALCULUS - It was on the floor for less than 4.7 whole seconds. ENCYLOPEDIA - most forms of bacterium are able to jump, especially to wet materials, in about 1.2- PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - any residue on your kitchen floor may well be material which was once already in your stomach. CONCEPTUALIZATION - if you think about it, that means you've already kind of eaten the ravioli.

INLAND EMPIRE - From the Floor, Of the Floor, To the Floor. To be, or not to be, one with this eternal cycle? ENDURANCE - Anything the floor could not contain, you could digest. (with VOLITION) We are iron. HALF LIGHT - Bite into its soft, warm flesh. EMPATHY - Give it peace. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Eat the floor-violi, pasta slut! YOU - weeping, bring the ravioli to your lips, and then, impossibly, with infinite mercy, love, bring it into you. It tastes fantastic. You would have never know it was on the floor at all. You can feel the hum of satisfaction, the glory of it in your lungs, swelling to fill you more than even a pasta-feast could. This is the mercy you wish your God could cast on you, when you fall. KIM KITSURAGI - "Harry,"

[zepskies]

Green

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader, Ben and daughter!OC

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

AN: Another one-shot for the BMD-verse, set sometime after "Until Morning" (you'll see). This can be read as standalone as well!

Word Count: 2,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father and daughter fluff, followed by husband and wife spice.~

Read more of the BMD-verse! ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Father and daughter were glaring at one another, gazes locked.

Green against green.

“Young lady, I’m telling you right now. I’m not gonna tolerate any more of your little attitude,” said Ben. “If you want to try me, be my guest.”

He held the ravioli poised on a pink plastic spoon. His daughter Lila sat in her highchair in the kitchen, boldly refusing any more of her lunch.

Her stubborn face reminded him entirely too much of you. But he needed her to eat. He wouldn’t have it said when you came home that he couldn’t feed a damn two-year-old.

He huffed. “Work with me here. Just a couple more bites.”

Lila made a shrill sound of refusal when the spoon came near her face. He knew she could use a spoon just fine. She was being difficult on purpose.

To demonstrate her resolve, she slapped at the ravioli with a chubby little hand, and it ended up splashing back into the bowl. A bit of red sauce splattered onto Ben’s cheek, with a pinch of it hitting his eye.

He blinked in annoyance. “Delilah Marie, I swear to Christ—”

She’s just a baby, a voice that sounded a lot like you infiltrated his mind. It still didn’t take away his aggravation.

“No!” Lila insisted. It was her favorite word, right behind Bluey.

She then pushed the bowl right off the highchair. It spilled ravioli and pasta sauce all over the floor in spectacular fashion. Ben was sitting in his own chair by the dining table, where he moved his feet back at the last moment. She almost got his Italian loafers.

“You gotta be f…” It took every scrap of patience within him to hold his tongue…and breathe calmly through his nose. He didn’t want to reward this destructive, disrespectful behavior, but he also knew that he needed his daughter to eat.

“Want some applesauce?” he said, as a peace offering.

Lila’s face scrunched.

“No applesauce, huh?” Ben muttered. He glanced at the mess across the highchair and the formerly white tile on the floor. “Your mother’s gonna have a conniption.”

“Mommy?” Lila asked. “Mommy’s home?”

“No, she’s not here right now,” Ben replied. “She’ll be home later.”

Lila seemed to understand, because that’s when she got upset again. Her red-stained finger drew a shapeless form in the sauce as she pouted. At least she wasn’t crying.

Ben sighed, once again, and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Fuck it.

“You want some ice cream?” he bribed.

Her sadness dissipated at the thought; she smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah!”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.

After a scoop of strawberry ice cream for each of them (she liked it because it was pink), Ben wrangled her up out of the highchair and declared, bath time.

He did fine with the bathing process. He’d helped you with this before, and so he knew what to do in order to wash the sauce off her face, hands, and even her hair. It was what came after the bath that remained a problem.

Lila was stubborn beyond belief, even before she could articulate what it was about the soft green onesie that she didn’t like. No, she wasn’t satisfied until Ben pulled out the yellow Starlight themed pajamas. Probably because they had “Auntie Annie’s” face all over them.

He rolled his eyes, but this wasn’t a hill he needed to die on. He dressed Lila and tried to tuck her into bed for her afternoon nap. The problem was, she refused to lie still in the crib.

Instead, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, using the edge of the crib for balance. He’d be impressed, if she wasn’t trying to climb out and give him a small heart attack.

He grabbed her and gathered her against his chest. Despite the super strength you’d temporarily displayed off and on throughout your pregnancy, Lila’s powers were latent at the moment. Dr. Baker seemed to think Lila would start to display them once she got old enough. Like Ryan, who hadn’t started growing into his powers until around 10 years old.

So for now, Lila was a mostly normal two-year-old who could still get hurt.

Ben frowned. “This is the time you usually go down. Why do you have so much energy?”

She just giggled at him and put both hands on his face, over his eyes.

“Daddy, guess who?”

He sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. As usual, he indulged her.

“Could it be my baby girl?”

He waited until her hands came away from his eyes, and he opened them wide.

“There she is!”

She squealed and giggled and grabbed his hair when he kissed her cheek. In the comfort of his own home, he could afford to be this openly affectionate.

Aw shit, he thought, as something occured to him.

He finally realized why she was so fucking hyper. Maybe it had something to do with the giant scoop of ice cream she’d had for lunch.

Goddamn it. Ben sighed and unwrapped her arm from around his head.

“Okay, let’s watch some TV.”

Lila didn’t seem all that interested in watching anything, or even playing with her toys. She mainly wanted to jump on Ben’s stomach while he was trying to relax on the couch. He put on a football game you taped for him. Or recorded, as you'd said.

“All right, enough. Your old man’s trying to watch the game,” Ben said, bringing Lila down to sit in lap.

That lasted for about two seconds. Thereafter, she was climbing up his chest and trying to smother him with her little hands.

He took her hand from his nose so he could at least breathe in peace.

“Where’s Mommy?” Lila asked, as she sat on his shoulder and beat a little fist on the top of his head.

“She’s with your aunt,” Ben replied. “Well, not your real one, the fake one.”

Lila made a sound of confusion. Realizing that she didn’t know what the hell he meant, he rephrased.

“She’s with your Aunt Annie. They’ll be back soon,” he said.

He didn’t mind you wanting a day out to yourself. What he minded was the attitude you’d struck when he suggested dropping Lila off with Louisa, your actual sister.

“What, you can’t handle her alone for one day?” you’d asked.

His pride hadn’t allowed him to say no to that.

So here he was, with a wily toddler who was doing her damndest to suffocate him. Better attempts than this had failed, but it was still annoying while he was trying to watch the game.

Somehow, he managed to tune it out while he watched the ref make a bad call.

“What was that?! You gotta be kidding me!” Ben said, holding Lila to his chest even as he pointed and shouted at the TV. “Son of a bitch. What a pussy call that was.”

“Bish, bish, bish,” Lila said, making a game out of the word. It called Ben’s attention.

He forgot about the game for a moment when he looked down at her. His eyes widened a fraction, even as a smile pulled at his lips.

“What’d you just say?”

“Bishhhhhh,” Lila repeated. “Somvabishhhh.” Her lips squished like a fish. And then she giggled, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Aw, fuck,” Ben uttered.

And he pressed his lips together with ever widening eyes at what he’d just said.

Lila grinned. “Fack!”

“Uhh, no. No. Don’t say that,” he said, trying to sound stern. Inside, he was trying not to laugh. He didn't really give a shit what she said, but you were particular about the kid not inheriting his vocabulary.

In fact, he was pretty sure you were going to go nuclear for this one.

“Why?” Lila asked.

“Because it’s uh…a bad word,” Ben replied, even though he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. This was what he’d become. A suburban dad.

"And it's not ladylike," he added.

“Fackkkk,” Lila giggled some more.

Christ on a cross. Ben bit the inside of lip hard to stop himself from laughing.

“Whatever. Just don’t say it around your mom,” he relented. He brushed his fingers through her soft brown hair. She preened at the attention, like the little showboat she was.

“Daddyyyy…” Lila wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled as deeply into him as she could, like a koala clinging to a shaking branch.

Ben sighed and rubbed a hand up and down her back as he cradled her against him.

These were the moments he didn’t mind. In fact, these were the moments he did his best to remember. They helped block out the older, darker ones that this kid would never know.

Ben woke to the shutter of a camera going off.

He blinked his bleary eyes open to find you standing there with a highly amused smile on your face, and your phone poised in your hand.

He groaned, but he soon realized that Lila was sleeping in his arms, on his chest. You leaned down and rested a hand on her back. You also greeted him with a kiss to his temple.

“Long day?” you teased quietly.

Ben gave you a deadpan look, one that had you straining to taper down your giggles. Though he drew you closer by your hip and squeezed the soft flesh over your white sundress. He took you in with a lazy once-over.

You looked good. Sexy as hell, really. Your face was glowing and relaxed, and he liked the shade of red you’d done on your nails.

“You have a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, massaging his shoulder. Though you arched a brow. “There’s a catastrophe in the kitchen.”

Ben blinked.

Fuck. He forgot about that.

“Yep,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk of his own. “Right on time for you, baby.”

You chuckled, though your eyes narrowed in warning. “Yeah, right.”

You still helped him put Lila down in the nursery for the rest of her nap. She yawned and turned over onto her back. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, though you had to smile when it accidentally left the red mark of your lipstick behind.

You bit your lip and gently rubbed it off without waking her up. (An amazing damn feat, as far as you were concerned.)

Ben laid a heavy hand on your back, prompting you to straighten up and turn into his waiting embrace.

His lips curved as he looked down at you. “Hey.”

You laughed quietly. “Hey, yourself.”

Your hands glided up his chest, and further still to hold his face. You brought him down to kiss you, with your fingers slipping into his hair, and your nails dragging along his scalp. He hummed into your mouth.

“Miss me?” you teased.

Ben huffed. As usual though, his answer was in his actions. He held you close for a moment, just to feel you there.

Your arms slipped around his, clinging to his shoulders as you rested against him. This was your safe, comfortable place where you always felt at home.

But, you couldn’t help but break the spell.

“Come on. Clean up on aisle 12,” you quipped, reaching around to smack his ass.

Ben rolled his eyes, but when you pulled away from him, he followed you into the kitchen.

“You know, I had a lot going on. Your kid is a fucking menace,” he said. “Like a bull in a China shop.”

You scoffed. “She’s only my kid when she gives you a hard time. Where do you think she gets it from?”

“You,” he retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. It still didn’t get him out of helping you clean the kitchen from top to bottom.

After a long shower, waking an errant child from her nap, dinner, and a joint effort of getting Lila to sleep for the night, Ben joined you in bed wearing just his usual sweatpants.

You’d opted for some black satin, he noticed.

Good, he thought, for the night to come. You’d spent the whole day getting massaged and moisturized and whatever else women did on a day out.

When he rolled onto his side, you greeted him with a smile and a hand running up his arm, already pulling him toward you. His hand glided along your bare thigh as you hooked it over his hip.

“I need to tell you something, but you’ve gotta promise not to say anything to anyone,” you whispered in the small space between his face and yours, and you tapped his chin.

Ben raised a brow and squeezed your thigh. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait until long after he’d undressed you?

“What?” he asked.

“Annie’s pregnant!” you said with a wide smile. “Six weeks. She just told me today.”

Ben blinked at that one. “Is it Hughie’s kid?”

“Wha…of course, it is!”

“Wow. Guess he had it in him after all,” Ben remarked. “Who woulda thought.”

You shook your head, but his grin made you laugh.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, through your remaining giggles, though you leaned forward and stole a kiss. It led Ben to want more, and more of you.

He started to ply you with slow, lazy kisses that grew deeper, becoming all-consuming as his tongue warred against yours. His hands dove under the satin covering your body, and his thumbs brushed the sides of your breasts.

“Maybe it’s time we go for number two,” he said.

You uttered another incredulous laugh, gripped a fist in his hair and tugged. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” Ben said. He rolled you onto your back and pinned you there. “Ain’t no way we’re stopping at one. Lila needs a brother.”

“You can’t even handle one,” you teased. Your hands slid up his arms and then down his chest. “Baby, we can talk about having more kids, but—”

“And? We’re talking now,” he said. He dipped his head to start kissing a hot, wet line down your neck. It made your breath falter and your back start to arch. Your hips shifted against his, trying to find friction. You could feel his length hardening against your thigh.

“Ben,” you warned, and implored, but the graze of his teeth on your neck made you shudder.

Your grip on his arms tightened. “Please…”

“Please what?” he smirked against your skin. His hips rocked against your heated core.

This conversation was going into a no man’s land very fast.

You literally took matters into your own hands…by reaching down and grasping your husband’s cock through his sweatpants. You gave him a demanding squeeze.

His breath hitched. Ben paused, unlatching from your neck, and turning his lips toward your cheek.

“I’m listening,” he said, in a gritted voice. You smirked.

“We can, and we will talk about this,” you promised. “Just not when you’re about to be balls-deep inside me.”

You were back on birth control anyway (the pill this time).

Ben chuckled. His hand reached up and smoothed your hair away from your forehead.

“Fine,” he conceded. A smirk grew across his face. “But we can still practice.”

A giggle fell from your lips, just before he claimed them once again.

AN: A little callback to the BMD Epilogue at the end there. 😂

What did you think about the father/daughter time? And do you think Ben won against either of the ladies in his life? 🤣

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, in a drama-filled episode, you and Ben do what you two do best in Calculated Risks:

Summary: You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

▶️ Keep Reading: Calculated Risks

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxoviennaa @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[mattsturnioloz]

Then I lost you.

Part 2.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, unresolved angst (maybe)

A/N: (guys this is my first fic so please bear with me😭 l would love some feedback or tips though!!)

I was sitting on the couch scrolling through my phone and channel surfing, waiting for my boyfriend, Matt, to get back from filming a car video with his brothers, Chris and Nick. But over the course of the last couple of months, Matt has been distant and there was a rather uncomfortable feeling sitting in my chest. He would make up excuses as to why he couldn't hang out with me like he was filming, editing or streaming. It made me overthink. Did I do something? Does he still love- No, of course he still loves me. Right?

It was all too much and it gave me anxiety. Sure, I understand his career as a Youtuber can be a handful but I can't help but feel a bit neglected and it makes me feel guilty.. I sit there thinking for a moment, taking in the cool autumn smell that roamed through the house, listening to the patter of the soft rain drops falling onto the windows, trying to think of a way that I could get Matt to spend time with me.

I decide to cook a nice dinner for matt and I or at least attempt to, so I stand up and I head to the kitchen and decide on some ravioli which takes me about an hour but I did it.

Flashback

"What are you gonna get to eat?" | asked Matt.

"I'm not sure.. you know for a fancy restaurant, you'd think they'd have a variety of options." He says before raising his eyebrow at me, showing me the menu and we both chuckle.

"Our first date and i'm already messing up huh?" He says with a nervous chuckle.

"What?? No! you're not messing up i'm having fun." I said with a smile, reaching over the table to hold his hand and he gave me a lighthearted smile.

"Ravioli is the only decent thing they got here, think i'll go with that." He says closing the menu. "See? It's not all that bad, I just so happen to love ravioli. I think I can go for some too.” I smile.

Present

I set up the table with bowls and utensils before making my way to the bathroom and realize that look a bummy mess so l spend the rest of the time I had left before he got back to make myself look at least a little presentable. I feel an overwhelming but nice sense of excitement to spend time with him again. I change into a casual but nice outfit and decide to do a simple and natural makeup look.

I soon hear the sound of the front door opening and chattering following behind it. I make my way out of the room to greet Matt who was laughing with chris and nick.

"Hey baby! How was filming??" | say almost too enthusiastically but I was too excited to keep my cool. "It was alright." He says nonchalantly, which makes me turn my happy demeanor down a notch.

Chris goes downstairs to get ready for something and Nick goes upstairs to do the same. Leaving matt and I alone which was perfect so I take the chance.

"I made-" before I could say anything Matt interrupted me. "Hey, me nick and chris are gonna go to top golf with madi, and nate so I might be home a little late." My heart sinks and i'm flushed with dread but I don't give up so easily.

"Well I actually made dinner for us.. I was hoping we could spend a little time together since we haven't in a while." | say fiddling with my necklace getting a bit anxious.

"I'm sure it's amazing baby but I should go get ready, Save me some yeah?" He says, placing a gentle kiss on my temple before he walks towards our shared bedroom to get ready.

I sit at the table where our food is now cold and I feel a lump in my throat followed by a cold sinking feeling in my chest.

658 words.

A/N: (This is sloppy and I kind of hate it, js wanted to try this out to see what yall think. if you guys like it, i'll keep writing, if not then im never writing again and since it's my first fic I kept it short but if you guys like it, i'll make the next parts longer 🫶🏼)

Taglist: @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @imwetforyourmom

[disillusioneddanny]

If It Makes You Happy (then why the hell are you so sad?)

Tim took a bite of his ravioli and looked around the table at his family. It was Sunday dinner. A monthly tradition where every member of the family adopted or otherwise came to spend a few hours together. It didn’t matter who was arguing with whom, or how estranged from the family you were at the time. You still had to attend the monthly family dinner. However, there were times when Tim wondered if anyone would notice if he stopped attending. If he no longer came to the dinners where he sat mostly unnoticed by the rest of his family. Where he typically sat in silence, having not uttered a single word throughout the entire event. Would they ever realize he was gone? Did they even realize he was there in the first place? 

A part of Tim truly doubted it, if he was being completely honest with himself. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to share with the family his upcoming exhibit. 

Tim was in his fourth year of college. Where he was getting a degree in Art, Technology, and Culture. It was a major that allowed Tim to immerse himself in photography, video art, creative coding, and so much more. He had gotten to work in traditional analog and digital photography. Played around with film and art in ways he had never thought of before while also learning about cultural theory, the expression of ideas, and cultural practices which gave him the chance to truly discover himself. It was the first time he had ever chosen something for himself. 

His entire life he had been groomed to run a business. To at first take over Drake Industries one day and then later Wayne Enterprises where he was unfortunately CEO. But then he had learned about the ATC program at Gotham University and he had fallen in love with it.  He had always been obsessed with photography and even film later on as he grew older and spent his days alone in dusty old Drake Manor. And he had always loved to learn about cultures, he ate up the stories from his parents and their trips abroad. Had spent countless nights watching the people of Gotham and how they did things, and had absorbed it all like a sponge to make up for the fact that he was just a lonely boy living in a manor by himself. 

Even when he had joined the Bats and had made his tiny little place with them, he still fell back on his love for learning about others and his desire to tell their stories. It had just become an intrinsic part of Timothy Drake. 

And now here he was, slowly creeping to the finish line. He had his senior showcase coming up. A requirement for all students who were receiving a bachelor of fine arts. He was to show off all of his best work from the last four years. It was a chance for him to show everything he had learned, and to display his work with pride. 

He had toyed with the idea of inviting everyone to it. To let them see the love that Tim had cultivated over the last four years. He was set to graduate in just a few months and the pride he felt for himself was tremendous. And if Tim invited the Wayne family to his senior showcase, then maybe they could come to his college graduation and share the achievement with them then too. 

It was a big time in Tim’s life and he wanted to share it with them. 

He listened as a lull came in the conversation and carefully cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others. 

“I have a senior showcase this weekend for my BFA. It’s at six in the evening in the Wayne Arts Center on Gotham Campus. I would be happy to see you all there,” he said hesitantly, eyes firmly trained on his plate of food. 

“That sounds nice, Tim. I’ll try to be there,” Bruce said politely before going back to his conversation with Jason and Dick. Tim felt eyes on him, though, and slowly looked up to find his little brother giving him a curious look. 

“What?” He asked, still trying to calm his heart just a bit. He still wasn’t sure why he came to these things, why he was even here. Just talking to the Waynes gave him anxiety. Just being here reminded him how much he didn’t belong. How other he was compared to the rest of the kids that Bruce had adopted? 

Damian tilted his head to the side. “I was not aware that you were getting your Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Will you tell me about your degree program? I have been thinking about getting an Art History degree but have been torn between that and a business degree.”

Tim gave him a small smile and rested his chin on his hand as he started to tell Damian all about his degree and how he was enjoying the program at Gotham University. The rest of the family went on to their own conversations while Damian listened with rapt attention to Tim describing the ATC program at Gotham U. 

The rest of the week was a whirlwind as he prepared for his senior showcase, he had sent out invitations to everyone he wanted to come see his work. The Team had already made a reservation to take Tim to lunch before the showcase before helping him get everything ready. And as the day came to be, they had made good on their word, taking him to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Gotham before taking him to the gallery. He blushed as he listened to his three best friend gush over his artwork, as they listened to him explain each piece. They asked questions and made remarks about what their favorite pieces were and even tried to buy a few pieces only for Tim to promise to give each of them prints of his photos. 

The three had left with quick goodbyes, each one giving Tim a hug and congratulating him before they made their way from the gallery. The rest of the evening dragged on as people came by and asked Tim about his photos and the small films that played on the movie screen on one wall. He smiled and explained each photo to anyone who asked. He had wanted to showcase his vigilante photos of the bats and birds but it had been too much of a risk to do so. 

Instead he had shown off his photos that showcased all of his favorite parts of Gotham. From the beautiful gothic architecture, the gargoyles that looked out over the city. He showed the photos from the last time Ivy had thrown a fit in Robinson Park and covered the entirety of the grounds with flowers. He showed the pictures of community from Crime Alley and the beauty of the strength of Gothamites who had managed to survive the worst of the worst. 

He also featured pictures of his family, of Dick hanging from a chandelier, of Damian training Titus to do a trick. He had a picture of Bruce, Alfred, and Jason sitting side by side as they each read a different book. One showed Cass as she posed for the camera in her favorite ballet form. They were some of his most treasured memories, there for everyone to see and enjoy. Tucker between the one of Damian and the one of Dick was a photo of Tim. He had taken forever to set up the camera and get the timer right. Alfred had simply chuckled the entire time as he continued to offer to take the picture for Tim but no one was meant to be behind the camera for that picture. It was the only family portrait of his entire family. Cass, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, they all sat smushed into a single couch together, wide smiles and laughs on each of their faces as Tim beamed from the far side, leaning into Alfred’s side. 

The gallery was meant to showcase culture that was important to Tim. To showcase the life that he loved and treasured. And even if he never felt like he quite fit in the Wayne Family, even though he knew that he was the expendable one, the replacement, he still treasured his family. It was why he had invited them, he had wanted them to see just how important they were to Tim. And maybe they would realize he was important to them too.

Only, the rest of the evening seemed to drag on, and not a single person from his family ever stepped through the door. He waited, shoulders tensed and smile polite. Every bit the gentleman that Janet Drake had trained him to be as he stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He kept glancing at the clock, waiting for Bruce or Dick or someone to walk through the doors, to say hello and look at all the work that Tim had put in the last four years in college. The hours ticked by until it was nearing ten pm and the gallery started to clear out, custodians came in and started to clean up around him. 

Tim cast one final look at the doors before he turned to his photos and started to take one off of the wall. 

“Master Timothy! I am so sorry that we are late,” a voice said and Tim quickly to find Alfred and Damian walking through the doors of the gallery. A small smile spread on Tim’s face as Damian bound forward. 

“I apologize,” Damian said softly, staring up at Tim with disgruntled eyes. “I got into an argument with Father and then Titus scared Alfred the Cat and we spent the last three hours searching for that blasted cat and when we realized the time we came straight here,” he said. “What did the others think of your exhibit?”

Tim’s smile fell and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They uh, they didn’t show up,” he said quietly. “But if you’d like, you guys are the last ones to show up. I’d love to show you everything.”

Alfred’s face fell at that as he stepped forward and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That is their loss, my dear boy. I would love to see your work,” he said. Before he could stop himself, Tim pulled Alfred in for a tight hug, burying his face in the old butler’s chest as he held him close. 

“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling away. He glanced down at Damian and smiled. “How about I show you my work and then if my advisor is still here you can meet her and talk to her about the ATC program.”

The fourteen-year-old nodded his head once. “I would appreciate that,” he said before grabbing Tim’s hand hesitantly. He followed quietly as Tim showed them his pictures of Gotham, explaining the stories behind each one before he showed them his favorite pictures. His pictures of home and both men let out soft gasps as they looked at them. 

“Master Timothy, these are beautiful,” Alfred said, stepping forward to take in the picture of him, Bruce, and Jason. 

“The lighting for this is amazing, I did not know that I even smiled like that,” Damian said softly as he took in the picture of him smiling at Titus. 

“Oh Tim,” Alfred said quietly, losing all strict politeness that Alfred held so dear to his heart as he took in the family portrait. “This is amazing, Timothy. So absolutely perfect. I remember when you took this photograph. It was right after Thanksgiving dinner last year.”

“I was so irritated, Todd had gotten mashed potatoes in my hair,” Damian said with a huff, a small smile tugged on his face. 

“I did not even realize that Master Richard and Master Jason were hugging in this picture,” Alfred said, a soft smile sti on his face as he took in the way Dick had his arms wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he laughed at something Jason had said. A small smile sat on Jason’s face, his eyes brighter than Tim had seen since the older man had come back from the dead. 

Alfred tore his eyes from the picture. “How much?” he asked. 

Tim blinked. “What?”

“How much for the picture?” Alfred asked him, turning back to the family portrait. 

“For you?” Tim asked, blinking again in surprise. “Free of charge, considering it a thank you for coming to my senior showcase.”

“I would like this one of Titus and me,” Damian piped up. “It would be lovely on my desk in my bedroom.”

Tim sniffed, his chest tightening slightly. “I would be more than happy to give you both the original copies.”

“Timothy,” Alfred said, turning back to Tim, that soft, kind, smile on his face once again. “I am so incredibly proud of you.”

The vigilante’s eyes burned furiously. “I-I thank you,” he said, a soft sob slipped out of his mouth before small arms wrapped around him. Damian hugged him tight, his face pressed against Tim’s chest. 

“I am so sorry that our family forgot to come to your showcase, Timothy,” he said stiffly. “You are incredibly talented and it is their loss for missing out on this.”

Tim pressed a hand to Damian’s back, feeling tears building behind his eyes that threatened to spill over. “Thank you,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked around and spotted his advisor. “There’s Professor Maheshawen. She’s my advisor. We can go talk to her and you can ask your questions, okay?”

Damian nodded and pulled away carefully, smoothing down the front of his sweater before he followed after Tim to meet his professor. Leaving Alfred to continue staring at the pictures with a kind smile on his face.

Alfred Pennyworth looked at the smiles on his charges faces and let out a breath. One of these days, Bruce and the others would realize just how important Timothy was to their family, how he was the one who held them all together. He only hoped that they would not realize that lesson too late in life. At the very least, Damian was now starting to understand just how wonderful Timothy Drake was. 

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!chef reader | social media au - part one

inspired by @caramelberzatto i made a few social media posts for my make my heart surrender universe with carmy x fem!chef reader. my carmy as your baby daddy series was a headcanon/social media au and i just love these so i couldn't resist!! enjoy these fake social media posts depicting different parts of their story :)

see part two here.

liked by sydneyadamu, poursomesugarnatalie and others

thesustainable.chef: surprise! @/chefsyd and i are popping up at @ bigdeliciousplanet for their urban garden dinner series!! join us on june 1st for a five course dinner starring tomato season.

get tix @ the link in bio

philipKrich: the can't miss event of tomato season! ➡ chefsyd: you heard the man!

carmyberzatto: ❤️

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liked by carmyberzatto, maya.kaz and others

thesustainable.chef: what an honor it was to cook at the James Beard House in my hometown, NYC, with some of my favorite people in the world. congratulations to the team @/thebear on a beautiful job! and thanks for letting me cook with you guys again teehee.

more posts to come. this last trip back home was life changing. ❤️

chefsyd: don't call it a comeback 👀

chefsyd: life changing, you say? 👀👀👀 ➡ poursomesugarnatalie: 👂🏻i'm listening ➡ liz.jpg: @/maya.kaz and i are SEATED.

marcusmakespastries: what an honor it was to have you BACK with us, chef.

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thesustainable.chef: my honey on film #35mm

maya.kaz: hubba hubba! #teamcarmy4ever

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thesustainable.chef: uncle carmy, cacio e pepe ravioli we made, and very well deserved glass of wine for this milf of 2 🤣

philipKrich: where was my invite? ➡ thesustainablechef: sorry, cousin. 😵‍💫

poursomesugarnatalie: you're a milf 😘 ➡ carmyberzatto: babe... milf? really? ➡ thesustainable.chef: uncle carmy 🤝 dad carmy ➡ carmyberzatto: 😳 ➡ poursomesugar: you guys are gross. can you flirt elsewhere?

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[steddieas-shegoes]

pinned with a look

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'pin'

388 words | rated g | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, meet cute of sorts, single parent steve harrington, why yes steve "safety is so important" harrington did invite a man he doesn't actually know to his apartment, i only have 388 words so take it up with the other mod

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

The elevator doors opened and Olly jumped over the crack.

"Daddy, I made it! You need help?" He asked Steve as the person who was on it stepped out with a smile.

"No, I'm gonna be careful," he smiled at his five year old son as he made an exaggerated step over the crack. "You remember what floor we're on?"

Moving into this apartment building had been good for them, but it had been very stressful. Steve was all about safety, and it was important to him that Olly knew his address and how to get to their apartment in case they ever got separated in the building.

"Five like how old I am!"

"Yep! You wanna push the button?"

Olly nodded and pressed the button with a somewhat faded number five.

Just as the doors were starting to close, someone shoved their arm in and muttered 'thank god.'

"Daddy said you're not supposed to stick your arms and legs in if the doors are closing. You can get hurt," Olly pinned the stranger with the bitchy glare he definitely inherited from Steve.

The stranger smirked,kneeling down to get on Olly's level. "You're absolutely right. I could've been hurt and I shouldn't've done it. Thanks for reminding me."

Steve ignored the way his heart skipped at how this stranger was talking to Olly, pinning him with his own look of mild suspicion. Most people didn't like being spoken to by a kid like that. Why did this guy seem fine with it?

"So you won't do it again?" Olly asked him.

"I swear on my Uncle Wayne's life that I won't do it again Sir…" the man leaned his head forward in question.

"Olly."

"Sir Olly. I, Eddie James Munson, promise to be as careful as possible from now on."

The elevator doors were now closed and they were going up, but Eddie had never pushed what floor he needed.

Turns out he didn't need to.

As the doors opened on the fifth floor, Eddie stepped out with them and turned to the right. He started walking down the hall and then turned back.

"Apartment 586B if you have any more safety instructions!" He called to them.

Eddie pinned Steve with a look he knew well.

"586A if you want homemade ravioli for dinner!" Steve called back.

[feralgoblinqueen]

Silly Goose

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

MDNI please and thank you

Warnings: Dirty humor, mentions of masturbation, slightly dark humor if you squint.

A/N: Let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated since this is the first fic I’ve written and posted for others to read in years.

———

It started when you joined Task Force 141. Price had not considered adding another member to their already reputable team. At least, until your impressive file managed to come across his desk. Most notably the praises of former team and squad mates. You raised the morale of every company you joined as far back as your first deployment. Your previous CO could only sing your praises as Price sat and listened to him over the phone.

It was an easy decision to invite you into the team. It was confirmed to be the right decision a week later when he joined the four of you in the mess. You were in the middle of a story, the whole table captivated.

“So we had spent the last two weeks 40 clicks behind enemy lines. It should have felt like the return to civilization when we rejoined with the company. It didn’t.” Your hands punctuated your words, you were drawing in the attention of even those at surrounding tables.

“By the time we rendezvous with the rest of the company, our supply truck had been hit. Whole company on one meal a day until we could resupply with the rest of the Battalion. I knew my squad had hit its low. Everyone has lost their fight, they weren’t battle ready.” A big, easy smile splayed across your face. Price could feel the build up to the joke as he dug into his food. Him and the rest of the team remained quiet, waiting for what you would say next.

“Soap, what do you think Santa had in her magic rucksack?” You waggled your eyebrows. Their movement already earning a snort from Gaz. Price’s lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Uh… some extra MREs?” Soap was caught off guard by your question but you bounced right off, not drawing attention to his clumsy response.

“Close but no cigar. I’d packed my rucksack full of canned ravioli and porn mags. Nothing quite boosts morale like Chef Boyardee and a combat jack.” The corse words flew out of your mouth. It was evident that you’d served around men for a long time. The humor landing with the group of soldiers. Not only was your table laughing but those listening in around you as well. All except one man.

You had worked out years ago the quickest way to be welcomed by a group was to get them laughing. In school, in bootcamp, and with your newest team. Never making jokes about others or at their expense, that was your number one rule. Well number two rule. The number one rule was don’t eat yellow snow.

You easily joked about your own experiences or shortcomings. Joining the military meant you’d lived a lot of life. Life that was full of good and bad experiences. You made the best of them all and lived to make a joke out of it.

This was the first time in years, however, you’d met someone seemingly unaffected by your charm.

Ghost was stoic and cold. Eyes always watching you behind his balaclava, never showing the slightest hint of amusement. You worked overtime trying to get him to at least chuckle or to see his eyes to crinkle through the holes in his mask. Some sort of sign he at least smiled at your jokes. Any show of humor would do.

It was another meal in the mess hall when you tried again. Soap had mentioned some of the lieutenant’s deadpan and darker jokes. Maybe that was more Ghost’s sense of humor.

“So how are you still single? You’re a laugh a minute and you’re a good lookin lass?” Soap inquired, setting his tray down and taking the seat to your right. Ghost as across from you, shoveling food in where he had raised up his mask.

“Well I think it has to do with my line of work. You know how they say the surest way to a man’s heart is his stomach?” Soap noted the change in your posture. He’d picked up over the past few weeks how you sit up straighter if you were getting ready to go into another joke or funny story.

“Aye, I’ve heard that before.” He replied, a grin already forming on his face.

“Well I’ve found going through the ribcage is a lot faster.” You say pointed a finger gun at Ghost’s chest, as if to drive your point home. Soap sat for a beat before shaking his head.

“That was awful. LT, you been sharing your jokes with her?” He chuckled to himself, returning to the food on his tray.

Once again you stared Ghost down for the slightest tell. You searched his whole body for any sign of a laugh.

Disappointment grew in your gut as he finished his meal and left the table. You huffed, fork moving bits of food around your tray.

What if he just didn’t like you? That didn’t make sense though. Soap was a funny guy and Ghost got along with him just fine. Maybe it was more serious than that. Maybe he didn’t think you were needed on the team. They four of them had been working together for months before you entered the picture. Was it because you were a woman? You’d never had a negative interaction with him. He seemed immune to your banter.

“That face you’re makin’ is scary.” Soap nudged your side. A kind grin softening his features. You shook off your stress, shoving him back enough that his seat scooted.

“Sorry, that’s my default face while I’m waiting to receive more orders from the mothership. Mess hall interferes with the signal.” Humor was how you coped with everything. It’s how you deflected serious conversations. You knew you came off as simple minded and silly but you wouldn’t have risen this high in your career if that��s all there was.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal for you. One person not finding you funny shouldn’t eat at you the way Ghost’s reaction, or more so lack there of, did. You dwelled on it more than you were proud of. Some tender part in the deep recesses of your heart hurt to accept that he may simply not like you. That he only tolerated you professionally because his CO wanted you on the team.

As weeks went by the lieutenant’s response hadn’t changed. Any hope you had left that his reaction was just because you were new was dwindling fast. If only you would look for more than just amusement. You focused in on a sign of a singular emotion that you failed to notice all the others. But his team hadn’t missed it.

Captain Price was the first to notice the change in him. Ghost wasn’t one who usually socialized during meals, at least not on base. Since you joined, however, he’d taken more time eating. He joined in on conversations that weren’t just work related. Johnny noticed this and more, having more time to interact with Ghost than the captain.

Ghost’s eyes rarely leave you if you’re nearby. Upon approach he’ll act like he wasn’t watching you every move, usually picking up conversation with whoever he’s with or checking his watch. Soap had teased him for it on multiple occasions but Ghost always plays it off that he’s keeping an eye on how you’re adjusting.

No the team certainly hadn’t missed Simon’s big fat crush on their resident silly goose.

———

You sat on the couch of the AirBnB, watching Ghost talk on the phone with Captain Price. The two of you had been sent to observe a target who was fencing weapons for a terrorist organization. It had been a week and you had managed to find the opportunity to tap his phone calls and laptop. Besides that it was just a bunch of watching who comes and goes from his house across the street.

“Price is calling it. Nobody besides him has came or went from the house all week. We’ve planted our bugs so Lazwell can keep an eye on his digital footprint. There’s not much else for us to do here. We’ll leave at 0700 and no watch tonight.” Ghost announced, relaxing into the other end of the couch.

You nodded, turning your attention back to the TV. The only conversations you’d had the entire mission were work related. The voice of doubt in the back of your mind telling you that Ghost would only dislike you more if you tried the usual shenanigans without the buffer of the others around. The mission had kept you occupied but now that you had the night off that pit of anxiety deep in your gut came seeping back in.

You wanted to ease yourself by making a joke. You worked your bottom lip between your teeth. A normal person would make mundane conversation. Talk about the weather or ask if Ghost wanted to change the channel from the awful 90s sitcom. Anything to lift the awkward silence you felt.

Finally it came bursting out. You’d let your guard down just enough that the old habit slipped through.

“Hey Ghost, what’s red and bad for your teeth?”

You wanted to dig yourself into a hole. Of all the things to say, your brain spits out this joke. You expected silence or for him to tell you to knock it off.

His response was neither.

“I don’t know.” He gave you his full attention, looking up from his phone. Eyes already twinkling with amusement but you were too stressed to even notice. Suddenly the room was ten degrees warmer.

“A brick.” You waited for the silence. For an annoyed huff. You’d have to meet with Price and leave the team. Surely you’d never live this one down. Not when it was just you and Ghost alone.

A rich roar of laughter came from the other end of the couch. So much force behind it that your cushion shook. It didn’t last more than five seconds but you knew you’d remember that sound forever. Simon’s eyes creased so much from how big his grin was that they were almost closed.

You were in awe. You needed to hear it again.

“I thought you didn’t like my jokes.” You whispered, still in shock.

His eyebrows drew up in surprise. “You’re the funniest person I’ve met!”

You mouth open and shut not unlike a fish out of water. Confusion etched into every inch of your body.

“Then fucking laugh! Holy shit I thought you couldn’t stand me!” Relief washed over you like a warm shower after a long day.

Ghost laughed again, its warmth just as surprising this time as the last. You didn’t know when you got to your feet but now you were pacing. A barrage of emotions hit you all at once and you felt they might consume you if you sat still.

A large hand gripped your forearm, stopping you.

“When I’m on base, around those that aren’t my team, I keep up the image of ‘Ghost’. The mask, the stoicism, it’s all part of it.” He explained, turning you to face him.

A small, satisfactory smile crept onto your lips.

“So you’re telling me I just made ‘The Ghost’ laugh at a dumb joke I heard in elementary school?”

Ghost shook his head, hand releasing your wrist. His eyes were suddenly very gentle while he looked at you.

“No, you just made me laugh.” Hands pulled the balaclava over his head as he spoke. You froze, watching in awe. He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair before looking up at you. “Without the mask I’m just Simon.”

Your mouth acted faster than your brain, per usual. There was no time to stop the words that flew out.

“It’s so not fair that you get to be mysterious AND hot.” You slapped your hands over your mouth.

Simon laughed again. This time his expression in full view for you to see. Your embarrassment lost as you drank in the sight of him. Brown eyes crinkled with amusement and his pink lips grinning easily.

“So you think I’m hot?”

“Shut up, I think I’m working through the stages of shock right now.” Your sarcasm and humor on full autopilot as your brain worked overtime to process all this new information. Another laugh blessed your ears.

“I know how you can shut me up.” Simon smirked, eyes full of mirth as he leaned back into the couch.

“I’m sorry, did you just flirt with me? Let a girl catch her fucking breath for…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. Simon had pulled you down and captured your mouth with his. Your lips moved in time, tongue slipping into his mouth once you’d both relaxed.

When you pulled apart the two of you spent the night talking. Having conversations about everything and anything. And you made him laugh so much his sides hurt. He didn’t mind. It felt good to relax this fully with someone. He loved the way you’d light up as he laughed, wanting to keep that expression on your face.

And he would, as often as he could, for the rest of your lives.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Throw It in the Dishwasher -Oneshot

Word count: 2011

Part 2

Y/N and Bucky had moved into the building within a week of each other.  She had gotten there first, and just as she was finished getting settled she’d heard the telltale signs of someone moving in next door to her.  She wasn’t much for introducing herself, but one night she came home to find a man leaning against the wall between their doors, looking exhausted and frustrated.  When she approached him he turned to look at her and gave her a grimace of a smile.  “Hi,” he greeted her.

“Hi,” she replied quietly, rummaging for the right key on her key ring.

“I’m sorry to do this, but, uh…I locked myself out and I don’t wanna break the door down and I don’t have the landlord's number,” he said quickly.

“Oh, so you’re my next door neighbor, then?” Y/N asked with a small smile.

“Yeah,” he nodded and held his right hand out.  “I’m Bucky.”

“Y/N,” she said, her hand reaching for his and shaking it firmly.  “Do you have your phone?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket.  She rattled off the landlord’s phone number to him and he thanked her as he texted it.  

“Do you…do you wanna come in while you wait?” she asked.

Bucky looked at her in surprise before smiling again.  “Sure, yeah, that’d be great,” he said.  Y/N smiled and unlocked her door, holding it open for him as he walked in.  He quickly toed his shoes off and she did the same, dropping her keys in the bowl on the table in the entryway and hanging up her jacket.  “Make yourself at home,” she said as she walked into the front room and towards the kitchen.  “Are you hungry?”  She wasn’t sure why she was so comfortable letting a strange man into her apartment, but figured if he tried anything the walls were thin enough she could just scream.  

“If you’re offering to feed me, I have to warn you, I eat a lot,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well lucky for you, I tend to make too much food for just one person,” Y/N replied.  “Which one sounds better: ravioli or spaghetti?”

“Ravioli,” Bucky said.

Y/N cooked up dinner and talked to Bucky as they waited for the landlord to text him back.  At one point Bucky tried calling but got no answer.  While Bucky was looking around at her apartment she watched him, looking him over.  He was tall, big, and she could tell he was built underneath the long sleeve shirt he wore.  His long brown hair was tied back in a small bun at the nape of his neck with shorter pieces falling in his face, and a full, well kept beard.  She could see a chain around his neck that hung down his chest under his shirt.  Probably dog tags, she thought.  A military man.  He wore a glove on his left hand, which was strange for this early in Autumn.  He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.  He was ridiculously attractive, and it made her nervous.  

“Food’s ready,” she called out, setting the pan on the table with dishes and cups of water.  Bucky walked to the table just off from the kitchen and sat, thanking her as she served him.

“This looks really good, Y/N,” he said.  

“Well, it’s mostly premade, so don’t compliment the chef just yet,” she huffed a laugh.

“Better than I could do with premade stuff, so I’m impressed already,” he smiled at her.  His smile was blinding, stunning her and making her heart flutter.  She just smiled back, trying to hide the blush on her face as she looked away and sat down, serving herself as well.

As they ate they continued to talk, getting to know each other.  He made sure she had enough before nearly inhaling the rest of it.  It was impressive to watch just how much and how quickly he ate it all.  Afterwards Bucky insisted on cleaning the dishes, and she relented at the puppy dog-eyed look he gave her as he thanked her profusely for dinner.  

They sat on her couch and continued talking until his phone finally rang.  “Oh, it’s her,” he said, giving Y/N an apologetic look.  “One second.”  Y/N nodded, feeling a little sad at the prospect of their moment ending soon.  After another minute he hung up.  “She’s on her way up.  Thank you, again, for letting me hang out with you, and feeding me.  It was delicious,” he said.

“It’s no problem,” Y/N waved.  “It was nice to meet you and get to know you a little better.”

“Yes,” he nodded.  “We should definitely do this again.  Next time will be my treat, I promise.”  Y/N laughed and stood as he stood from the couch, following him to the front door.  He put his shoes and jacket back on, opening the door before facing her.  “Thanks again, doll,” he said with a smirk.  The elevator dinged and he glanced at the landlord walking out before quickly dipping his head down and kissing her cheek.  Y/N gasped lightly, once again stunned by him.  “Goodnight, Y/N,” he said and winked.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” Y/N smiled, feeling the blush from her head to her toes at his actions.  He continued to smirk at her before turning and greeting the landlord, who rolled her eyes and chastised him about losing his key.  He turned and grimaced at Y/N, making her laugh before waving and walking into his now unlocked apartment.  Y/N closed the door and leaned against it, huffing out a sharp breath.  Goddamn.  

***

They ran into each other a lot after that, both in the apartment building and outside of it.  Bucky had gotten her number and would text her regularly, sending her memes and jokes that he found funny or complaining about people he worked with, especially someone named Sam.  He was also very flirtatious, even to the point where he would make himself blush with how audacious he tried to be, like he was putting on a bravado that he wasn’t quite fully sure of within himself.  After a couple of months he invited her over to his apartment for dinner.  He had been busy, or hesitant, to invite her at first, saying it was because his apartment was a mess or not fully furnished yet, but she had a feeling it was because he wasn’t used to opening himself up to others and inviting them into his space.

“Just come on over when you’re ready.  The door’s unlocked.” He texted her.

Y/N smiled at the text, picking up the plate of cookies she made as a dessert, and headed to his door.  She knocked lightly then entered, toeing off her shoes and walking toward the kitchen where she heard him opening the dishwasher.  As she walked in he stood straight from grabbing something in the dishwasher, dressed in a white tank and sweats.  She froze when she saw it was a metal arm that he lifted and attached to his left shoulder, and he grimaced as it clicked into place, the plates in the arm whirring and moving as he flexed his metal fingers, rolled his wrist and bent his elbow.  He glanced up and froze when he saw Y/N in the kitchen doorway, his eyes widening.  So this is why he always wore long sleeves and a glove.

“Doll,” he breathed, angling the left side of his body away from her view.  “Um…shit.”  He looked like he would run away or cry at any moment.  Y/N set down the plate of cookies on the counter next to her and slowly started to approach him.

“So Bucky as in James Buchanan Barnes?” she asked quietly, a small smile on her face.  Bucky looked at her in surprise.  “I thought you looked familiar, I just never quite put two and two together,” she continued.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, bowing his head and shrinking away from her.

“For what?” Y/N asked, her head tilting as she kept trying to approach him.

Bucky stepped away, keeping the arm behind him.  “For not being honest,” he said, swallowing harshly.  

“Buck,” she called out to him.  He stopped and peered up at her.  “I’m not angry.  Just surprised.”  She took another step as he backed up against the counter.  “May I see?” she asked sweetly, reaching her hand out toward his metal arm.

Bucky looked at her incredulously, blinking rapidly, his mouth slightly agape.  He slowly looked down at his shoulder and brought the arm from behind him, holding his metal hand out in front of him.  Y/N reached out slowly, like she was afraid to spook him, and gently traced her fingers along his metal ones, watching his face carefully.  He was focused on her hand as she moved her fingers up to his palm, then his wrist.  She stepped into his space, feeling up his forearm, his elbow, his bicep, until she reached the point where the metal fused with his skin.  Bucky was still watching her hand as she raised her other hand and guided his metal hand to her face, placing it against her cheek.  His eyes snapped to her face, looking panicked at the hand touching her.  “I’m not afraid of you,” Y/N said, pressing the metal against her cheek to keep him there.  “I trust you.  I don’t know about everything that happened to you, but I’ve learned enough to know that you have suffered enough for a thousand lifetimes, and you didn’t deserve that.  You are a good man, I know it.”  She turned her head and kissed his metal palm softly.  Bucky’s eyes were filled with unshed tears at her words, and when she kissed his hand he exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to see me like this, at least not yet,” he explained.  “I just wanted to enjoy what we had for a little while longer before making it complicated with…this,” he glanced at his arm.  “With my work, with my life.”  He bit his lip and his metal hand cupped her face more, his thumb sweeping along her cheekbone.  “You came over a lot faster than I thought you would and I-I-I wasn’t…I was afraid you would…I wasn’t ready–”

Y/N’s heart broke for him as he floundered, multiple emotions flying across his face.  She reached up and cupped his face and pulled him down, kissing him gently.  She knew she was skipping a lot of steps right then, but she couldn’t watch him torture himself anymore.  Bucky froze against her at first, but only for a moment before he melted against her, his lips pressing more firmly against her lips, his head angling to deepen the kiss and his arms wrapping around her back, his metal hand splayed against her lower back, pulling her so she was flush to his body.  The kiss was soft, then got progressively heavier as Y/N opened her mouth to him, inviting him to deepen it even further.  Bucky smiled against her lips and accepted the invitation, his tongue tasting her lips and dipping into her mouth, sliding against her tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest.

Bucky slowly pulled away first, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath.  “Goddamn, doll, you’re good at that,” he said breathily.

“So are you,” Y/N breathed.  They stared at each other for a moment before they broke down into giggles.  “Are you okay?” she asked sincerely.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Bucky nodded, kissing the tip of her nose.  “But I’ll be even better if you say you’ll be mine.”

Y/N smirked.  “I will.  I already am,” she said.  “Will you be mine?”

“Already am,” Bucky repeated, smirking back at her.  “Thank you, doll.”

Y/N hummed, then narrowed her eyes and smiled teasingly.  “Do you seriously clean your arm by throwing it in the dishwasher?”

THE END

[hetacon]

So you guys know how the most recent thing I posted was a Sidlink fic? That was because I actually got into BOTW about a year ago (it’s been one of the fandoms that kind of just simmers in the back of my brain at all times), and that was pretty much my only knowledge of Legend of Zelda, just that one game…

Oops, now it’s all of them!!

Somehow I wound up getting invested in Linked Universe because of a Sidlink fic and now it’s the only thing on my brain as of the past month and a half! Unsurprisingly given how I got into it in the first place, Wild is my favorite, but I must say that they’ve all weaseled their way into my heart, particularly Twilight and Legend (and outside of the chain, Ravio as well)! The LOZ mania has gotten so intense that I actually bought and am playing through A Link Between Worlds right now and am legit making a Ravio cosplay, help-

All of the poses I drew here were from @mellon-soup’s wonderful references, I love using them for inspiration when I’m not quite sure what to draw, and when I saw the first one, I just knew I had to draw Legend and Ravio!

I’ll put a few of my thoughts on the drawings under the cut if anyone’s interested in hearing about them

1) I love Ravioli so much, their dynamic brings me much joy. I’m very proud of how Legend’s expression turned out

2) I’m absolutely obsessed with the fairy Hyrule headcanon, there are so many cute pieces of art people have drawn of him! I’m surprised I managed to get so much detail on his face given how tiny he is. Also Sky is a total sweetheart and the thought of him protecting Hyrule from the rain was simply too adorable for me not to draw the two of them!

3) I am very emotional over Twilight and Wild’s sibling dynamic! The idea of Twi getting caught sneaking food while Wild’s cooking dinner was very funny to me and so I drew it! I really like all of the little details in this drawing, Wild’s scars are probably my favorite detail. And though I’ve never drawn a wolf before, I think I did pretty good! Originally I was just going to draw Twi taking a small piece of meat or something but then I thought “Nah, it’s gonna be an entire fish!” I headcanon that whenever he’s in wolf form, his metabolism increases and so he needs to eat more food to maintain his energy. Since he mainly transforms to fight, track, or comfort Wild, he’s earned an entire fish! Also it’s important to me that you know that the fish is specifically a staminoka bass :))

4) If you find the pose reference I used for Wind, you probably will notice that I actually flipped it so that he was holding the Wind Waker in his left hand. As a leftie myself, I really love it when characters I love are also left-handed!

Also on the topic of hands in general, can I just say how proud I am of all the hands in these 4 drawings??? They’re so good, we love good hand days

[stuckymonkey]

Hot But Not Bothered

Natasha Romanoff

Pairing - nat x autistic!reader

Summary - it's a very hot day at the compound, and nat is getting flustered by y/n's distaste for over-warm garments.

Warnings - use of y/n, implications of sexy times, reader has autism and too much confidence to care about the demons that are clothes, fingering, oral

Word Count - 1k

a/n - i love this ship, and i thought this was a fun idea! literally ended up turning into pure smut

masterlist natasha romanoff

Summers at the Avengers Compound could get a little heated, in more ways than one. Today was one of the hottest days of the year and an awful time for the AC to take a very unauthorized break.

I lounged around on me and Natasha's shared floor in barely any clothes. The feeling of warm clothes sticking to my skin no matter what was unbearable. I was breaking a sweat just from sitting on our usually comfortable couch.

No matter how much iced water I drank, or how many cold showers I tried to take, I could not cool down. I had drawn all of the curtains closed, making our living room nearly pitch black, save for the T.V that was currently playing.

"Baby, what do you want for dinner?" I heard her call from the kitchen. "Something cold!" I whined. Her footsteps could be heard as she made her way to where I was sitting, only in a pair of pajama shorts and floral mesh bra. "Hi," I made grabby hands at her, successfully getting her to sit on my lap. "Hi," she breathed, her face heating up in a blush.

She was wearing a black sports bra and capris, somehow. "How are you not dying in these?" I asked, tugging at her pants. She shrugged. Having autism was a gift. My grandmother had told me so and I believed her with my whole heart to this day. But it could also make things very difficult for me, like being warm and wearing clothes.

I had a very specific garment palette: baggy hoodies, jean shorts, leggings. The end. See how shirts aren't included there? I hate shirts with a passion, Nat knows this but it never stops her from getting flustered when I don't wear them.

"You know," I whispered to her, "I've seen every glorious inch of your naked body, and you've seen mine, so I don't know what has you all flustered, kitten." she preened at the name, grinding her hips on mine.

She gasped as she must have rubbed her clit the right way on the fabric of our pants. I grabbed a hold of her hips, stopping her movements. Her wide green eyes flew to mine. "Go make dinner kitten. We can play when you get back." She whined while I have her a wink. Reluctantly she got off of my lap, earning a small slap to her ass, making her moan as she went back to the kitchen.

Because it was dusk now, the air had cooled off and I threw on one of Natasha's old shirts. "Hi baby," she giggled as I placed kisses on her neck from behind. She turned around, leaving the counter to kiss my collarbone and rub my nipples through my shirt. "Natty," I grabbed her hands, once again halting her movements.

"Y/n/n," she whined. "Let me play," she said, smirking after licking her lips. I gently spun her back to the counter where she had ravioli cooking on the stove, one of my favourite comfort foods. "Pay attention to the food Natty." I said. Once I saw that the meal had her full attention, I swiftly pulled down her capris, exposing her bare cunt to me.

"Fuck, Nat." I ran my finger through her glistening folds. Her quickened breaths filled my ears as I kept teasing her entrance. "This all for me, kitten?" I asked. "Yes," she managed to get out, doing her best to focus on the stuffed noodles and keeping her knees from buckling.

"Good girl," I purred as I put one finger in. I felt her lean back on my hand, making the heel of it rub against her clit deliciously. She let out sinful groans as she kept tending to the food. I added another finger, moving it quicker as she started grinding and clenching on my fingers.

"You're almost there, aren't you kitten?" "Yes, please." she moaned into the light of the kitchen. I moved my mouth to her dripping folds, licking around where my fingers were buried inside of her, pumping quickly and curling to hit just the right spot. I sucked on her sensitive clit, getting "Oh"s and chants of "Yes, yes, yes!".

Before I knew it she was cumming on my face. I sucked at her cunt, devouring everything I could before straightening up and letting her taste herself on my lips.

We moaned together, moving our tongues in a dance. "Fuck," she said. "tastes good, doesn't it, kitten?" I asked. She hugged me closer and nodded. "I love you," I said, pecking her lips. "I love you too, dekta."

I filled both of our plates and helped her get comfortable on the couch, taking off my shorts and giving them to her, knowing she didn't appreciate being bare for long periods of time. I, on the other hand, loved it.

I loved this woman with my whole heart and I know she loves me too. The show we were watching soon finished, and I helped Nat set up a warm bath to soothe her muscles while I cleaned up the counter.

After cleaning up the dishes and putting the extra food in containers I joined Natasha in the bathroom. "You were such a good girl today" I whispered. She closed her eyes at the praise. I would have joined her but I knew my body couldn't handle the heat, or the task of drying off and feeling a towel against my skin.

Nat fell asleep in my arms, her skin still warm from the bath. Thankfully by then the AC was back on full blast and I could enjoy a comforting night with my best girl and the love of my life. Also the best thing I've ever tasted, but you get it.