#// me buzzing to write zombie stuff

[zombiaes]

gonna be working on this starter call in a moment so get those likes in for one too

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Bad Math

(note for my followers with requests going, I'm pretty burnt out of House atm. I will get to requests when I can, but getting back into writing for me and also my life stuff will take priority over them.)

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Word Count: 3948

Summery: Episode 3 of Double Life. Martyn regresses after accidentally killing himself and Cleo but is afraid to say anything. It turns out he doesn't have to, because Cleo can feel all of it.

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Cleo jolted up in her bed, a fresh rush of respawn-fuelled adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hissed through her teeth as moving shot painful pulses through the newly reformed muscles of her legs and back. 

“Martyn!” She seethed to no one, “Oh my god, you stupid—“ That idiot had just killed them both! What in the world was he thinking!? The soul string around her finger burned with her anger and she didn’t bother to stifle it. She wanted Martyn to know that her blood was absolutely boiling. She got a dull pang of something like guilt back before he shut that down, because of course he would. She rolled her eyes.

Her joints ached as she stumbled out of bed and out the front door, but she pressed on. Her items would despawn if she wasted time, and she wasn’t going to lose all of her hard work on top of a life. 

The cliff was treacherous, at least a 20 block sheer drop with mobs everywhere, and she cursed Martyn under her breath the whole miserable shuffle down to the riverbed. By the time she reached solid ground her muscles were throbbing and a small hoard of zombies were clawing at her feet. She felt the pinch of phantom fingers on her forearm, Martyn’s silent complaining, and she pinched right back. He’s done this to himself. He was lucky she wasn’t letting these zombies have a little nibble. 

Some of her items were washed up on the rocks, coated in watery pink blood and muck, but the rest were floating amongst the drowned on the riverbed, not worth getting if she wanted to stay alive. She scooped up what she could and began the climb back to the top. Several of her items were missing, her food and armour were lost to the silt, which meant even if Scott could lend her something to wear she’d have to go back to the bloody caves in the middle of the night. 

At the top of the cliff, Martyn’s items lay scattered in a pile where he died. Part of her wanted to leave his things to rot, maybe kick them down into the river, but instead she begrudgingly dumped them into a chest for him to retrieve. She couldn’t have him dying again because his armour despawned, even if the idea of inconveniencing him brought her a sense of sweet satisfaction.

Buzz. Her communicator vibrated against her hip, and she pulled it out. 

<ZombieCleo fell from a high place trying to escape InTheLittleWood>

<SolidarityGaming> WHAT

<PearlescentMoon> OOOOOO

<Impulse> Soulmate kill? O.o

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> You okay?

<Tango> LOL

<Rendog> rip

And of course nothing from Martyn. No explanation, not even a fake apology. Cleo huffed.

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Fine. Got my stuff back

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Most of it. My armour’s gone

Martyn hadn’t shown his face yet, which was probably for the best. She might just beat the stuffing out of him if he came around for the next while. A part of her wondered why she hadn’t seen him yet, if not just to get his stuff back before running off again, his tail tucked between his legs. She stared across the chasm to his heart tower. From where she was standing she couldn’t see him in the windows or moving around on the ground. 

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> Do you want me to help you mine? I think I’ve got a spare set of boots too

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Yes that would be great thanks

The walk to their strip-mine was short, but in sopping wet clothes and coming off a respawn  it felt like a slog. Thankfully she made it without running into any mobs, and Scott met her at the entrance to the mine, pickaxe in hand and a concerned look on his face. “You alright, Cleo?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Fine, just… frustrated.” 

Scott nodded sympathetically and made an after you motion to the mine. Cleo lead them down the tunnel system until they found untouched rock, which wasn’t too far, and set up a crafting table and a couple furnaces.

They worked in an unusual silence. Typically their time together was comfortable and full of banter, but it was hard to find something to talk about besides the glaringly obvious. She could almost feel how badly Scott wanted to pry and know every little detail, ever the gossip he was, but it was clear that he was determined not to from the near-constipated look on his face.

Cleo smirked. “Out with it then, ask me what happened,” She said, resting her pickaxe over her shoulder and leaning against the wall, “I know you want to. Although, I can’t really say I know myself.”

“Why did he kill you?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “I know we’re not on good terms, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that. Not even Pearl has gone that far! And she’s crazy!” 

Cleo snorted, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s selfish! I don’t agree to a truce and he shoves me off a cliff!” She turned back to her pickaxe, punctuating every angry syllable with a swing. “Because he can’t just survive on his own. Ee’s like a parasite! Nagging on and on, and that weird tower he’s got in the ravine? Oh my gods—!” She was ranting, but it felt good to vent her frustrations to someone who wasn’t terminally dense and obsessed with the idea that ‘he’s your soulmate, you have to make up!’. What nonsense.

“And now we’re down a life, and I’m going to be stuck picking up after him because it’s always me, isn’t it? And it always will be! He’s just going to go running about willy nilly and I’ll have the consequences!” She swung her pick down with more force than was probably necessary, crumbling a pocket of lapis into dust, “He’s like a toddler!”

Suddenly, speak of the devil and he shall appear, there was a tug on their soul bond. It wasn’t ticks of damage like usual, it was an emotional tug. A ripple of nervous butterflies fluttered through her stomach, and she paused. Strange. Not the feeling itself, but the fact she’d felt it at all. The both of them had been stubbornly careful not to let their feelings slip through their bond ever since they’d officially split off in the first session. Probably a close call with a creeper.

Finally, after what felt like the thousandth poke-hole in the rock, she hit a pocket of iron. “Aha!” She exclaimed in victory, “Finally! This should be enough for at least a chest plate and some trousers. Come check it out, it’s massi—“

She faltered. There it was again, stronger this time. Her stomach twisted with what was definitely fear, and something else, too. It was fuzzy and hard to grasp. 

“Cleo? You alright?”

“…Yeah, I just… Martyn’s doing something. He’s probably caving.”

Scott hummed, sitting cross-legged on the ground and tossing a few pieces of raw iron into the furnaces, “Is he taking damage? You looked kinda scared there for a second.”

He hadn’t, but Cleo checked her health bar anyway to find it perfectly intact. “Nope. He probably just got ambushed by a mob or something, clearly he’s not the most careful man on this serv—“

It was then that it crashed over her; the string on her finger tightened and a wave of crystal-clear and suffocating sadness flowed through it. It startled her just how fast her eyes welled up and her chest squeezed, nearly winding her. “What on earth..?” She gasped. Her pickaxe clattered against the stone floor as she stumbled back against the wall. 

“What’s wrong!?” Scott clambered to his feet and rushed to her side, “Do you need food? How many hearts are you on?” He demanded, shoving a piece of bread against her hand.

Cleo quickly straightened, gently pushing the bread away, “No I don’t need food, I— I’m fine, just—“ What was Martyn doing?

Part of her wanted to ignore this. Whatever this was, it wasn’t her circus or her emotional monkeys. Physically they were fine, so it was fine. She scrubbed the tears out of her eyes, only for them to come right back, blurring Scott’s fretting expression. 

But the other part, the stronger part, told her that this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong with Martyn and she couldn’t help but be worried. Outside of the game they were still friends, and she still cared about Martyn’s wellbeing even if he was being a terrible partner right then. 

“Something’s wrong with Martyn.” She said. Well obviously, well done there Cleo, very observant. “I don’t know what but it’s… a lot.”

A thick, hazy feeling settled behind her eyes like molasses. It felt gentle, like it should have been pleasant, but it only amplified the swirl of emotions rushing through her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffled. Deep in her chest something was crying out for comfort, and she had to stop herself from instinctively reaching out to grab Scott’s hand, even though he probably wouldn’t have minded.

Scott took a deep breath, tapping his fingers quickly against the hilt of his pickaxe. “Right. Not much to go off of, then. What does it feel like?”

She struggled to get her thoughts in order as wave after wave of emotion came through their bond. It was overwhelming, flooding every corner of her brain like tar. “Goodness gracious, keep it together, Martyn…” She mumbled to herself, trying to at least keep her vision clear, “Um… It’s like, heavy? He’s definitely sad, scared I think… My head’s all fuzzy.”

After a moment of looking deep in thought, a look of dread suddenly dawned over Scott’s face, “Oh no…”

“What? What is it?” Cleo asked, voice creeping on desperate as the storm inside her slipped into her voice, “Don’t just say “oh no” and then stand there with that look on your face, it’s stressing me out!”

Scott looked at her, eyes wide. “He’s not regressed, is he? Surely not.”

All of the pieces were suddenly falling together to make a terrifying picture. The hiding, the suffocating fuzzy feeling, all of the emotions flowing through their bond, the crying— Martyn was little. 

Cleo’s mind raced. There was a child running around in the middle of the night during a death game, scared out of his mind and most likely defenceless. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken any damage yet. Heck, it was a miracle they weren’t dead yet, came a sobering thought, it was a miracle he wasn’t chased down by a hoard of zombies, backed into a corner a slaughtered. Ex-soulmate status be damned, she needed to find him and soon. She fumbled with her belt for her communicator and quickly typed out a message with shaky fingers.

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn where are you

To her surprise and slight relief, it didn’t take long for Martyn to respond.

<InTheLittleWood> i’m fine

<BdoubleO100> ?

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Sure. What’s wrong? Are you regressed right now? Also you’re in main chat

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Fine. Not small. Dw boutt it

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn. Stop messing around, where are you? Don’t make me get Grian, I’ll make him stop the session right now if I have to

The fuzzy feeling increased, and she blinked hard. If the rampant spelling errors in his messages weren’t enough to convince her he was small, that sure was.

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Spswn

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> spawn

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Stay there, I’m coming to find you

“I’m going to get him.” Cleo said, pocketing her pickaxe and equipping the iron boots Scott had given her. Her shield was shoddy at best, but they hadn’t had enough time to make her anything else and they didn’t have any to waste now. It would have to do.

Scott stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want me to come with you? If you give me a sec I can make a new shield and—”

“No, it’ll take too long. Besides, I think it’ll just freak him out more if you’re there with me.” She rubbed at her eyes and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look.

“Alright, I’ll catch up, then. Just… be safe, okay?”

“I will. I’ll be quick!”

The run to spawn was a gauntlet, and the burning in her chest and throat wasn’t helping. Thankfully the tears had slowed and her vision was clear enough to dodge mobs as they appeared from the brush. By the time she arrived the sun had begun to crawl over the horizon, but the mobs wouldn’t be burning for at least another hour, which meant they weren’t safe just yet. 

Martyn hadn’t sent any more messages and he was nowhere to be seen at spawn. Anxiety rolled in her gut as she scanned the tree line for Martyn’s obnoxiously bright outfit. She was just about to message the group and rally a search party when she saw it.

A dirt shack. Built up at the base of a scraggly oak tree was a small dirt box, just big enough for one person to be huddled up inside if they really squeezed. She approached cautiously, noting the uptick of nervousness inside her as her footsteps grew closer. She carefully dug away the wall, and there was Martyn. He was curled up tight, red-faced from crying and snot dripping from his nose, staring up at her with eyes blown wide.

Cleo couldn’t help but wince; he was certainly a sight. They stared at each other for a beat before Martyn simply dissolved. He began to cry once more and the tears in Cleo’s eyes returned with a vengeance. He curled impossibly tighter into his little ball and began mumbling something. Most of it was complete nonsense, but she was able to make out one word, over and over again. ‘Sorry’.

A weight dropped from her shoulders and she let out a breath of relief. She schooled her expression into something softer and tried to bend down to his level, but Martyn tucked his face between his knees.

“Martyn? Are we maybe feeling a bit little?” She tried her best attempt at a comforting tone.

“‘M sorry!” he babbled, sniffling loudly, “Didn’ mean t’hurt you, I was joking, I didn’t mean it!” 

All this trouble for a joke, of course.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m just glad you’re safe. This server’s dangerous for a little kid, yeah?” Her assurances didn’t seem to make anything better. In fact, Martyn only seemed more upset. 

His fists clenched into the fabric of his jeans and his head shot up, “You are angry!” He cried, “’Could- ‘could feel it! You’re angry at me an ‘m sorry! I didn’ mean it!”  

Cleo sighed. He was right, she was angry. Buried underneath Martyn’s hurricane of emotions there was still anger for him, but that anger was for adult Martyn. Stupid, shortsighted adult Martyn who got them both killed, not the blubbering child in front of her.

“Martyn, look at me.” He whined stubbornly and turned away, and Cleo rolled her eyes. Oh no, she wasn’t in the mood for this game. “Martyn.” Teary yellow eyes peeked up nervously at her.

“I am angry, alright? I’m angry we died, but there isn’t anything we can do about it now, is there? You didn’t mean to kill me, but we’re still yellow. That’s that.” Martyn sniffled, and Cleo could see a fresh line of tears forming in his eyes. “But, just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I want you to be safe, and I’m certainly not going to leave you all alone while you’re little.” Martyn seemed to consider that, scrubbing clumsily at his eyes. 

She reached forward and gently adjusted his headband from where it had begun to slip down into his face. “There we go, no more crying now. Would you like a hug—? Oof!” Martyn in her arms in an instant, crushing her in a death grip. He buried his nose into her shoulder and sniffled wetly. 

“Oh, gross buddy. Just getting snot all over my shirt, hm?” She chuckled, patting him gently on the back. He squirmed to be nearly cross-legged in her lap, slightly awkwardly because of the height he had on her, but she accommodated as best she could.

They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, only broken up by the occasional sniffle. The golden string wrapped around Cleo’s finger felt pleasantly warm, the knot loose and flowing instead of suffocatingly tight, and she wondered absently if this was what the bond was supposed to feel like. Comfortable and soothing.

So soothing that she heard the rattling bones of a skeleton behind her just a second too late. 

Martyn gasped, “Cleo there’s a—!”

A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she yelped. Martyn squeaked, and she curled defensively around him. The mobs.

She pulled out her shield and propped it behind her, and a second arrow lodged into the splitting wood with a thunk. “Martyn, can you run?” Martyn only blinked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like a fish. She grit her teeth, “Alright, up we go then!”

Ditching the shield she hoisted him up under his thighs and prepared to make a run for it. Just as the skeleton drew back another arrow, it was smashed into a pile of bones by an out-of-breath Scott.

“Run! I’ll cover you!” 

Arrows whizzed past her head and zombies turned to follow her as she ran through the woods, and she prayed to admin that none would connect while she was toting a grown man on her hip. She could hear Scott not far behind cutting down anything that got too close, and thank the Admins for Scott Smajor.

Cleo liked to think she was strong, but Martyn wasn’t exactly a featherweight. By the time they all made home and the door was shut firmly behind them she was panting and her arms felt like jelly. 

“You, alright, Martyn?” She huffed, leaning him back to get a look at his face. He nodded and gave her a shaky smile. “You’re very brave then, aren’t you?”

“The bravest.” Martyn muttered, letting his head bonk against her shoulder. She winced. Now that she had a moment to breathe, she could feel the arrowhead grinding against her shoulder blade and the trail of sticky blood running down her back. Martyn was probably a similar story. It was a wonder he hadn’t started complaining about it yet.

“Cleooooo,” Came a whine in her ear, “M’arm huuuurts.” 

There it was. She chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Let’s get patched up then, hm?”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Scott said, sounding rather winded as well.

Cleo set Martyn down on the bed and dropped down beside him with a groan. She could be helping Scott find first aid, but she was pretty sure she’d earned a break at this point. Scott returned from the chests with a half roll of gauze and a meagre amount of instant health in a bottle. 

“We don’t have much potion left, but I think we have enough wool for more bandages if we need.”

“Oh, we will need. Hand me those, I’ll get started on Boy-Wonder, here.” 

“Arrow first.” Scott reminded, and oh right, the arrow. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.” She said, then reached over and grabbed Martyn’s hand. “This is gonna hurt for just a second, okay? Squeeze my hand real hard.”

Martyn nodded nervously.

Scott set one hand on her back for leverage and grabbed the arrow with the other. “Deep breath, you two. One, two… three!”

Cleo grit her teeth and Martyn whimpered as the arrow came out, squeezing her hand like he was trying to pop a balloon.

“See? Not so bad, was it?” She said tightly, but it was hard to look convincing when Martyn’s tears were welling in her eyes. “Now, bandages. C’mon, shirt up.”

After taking a moment to collect himself Martyn tried his best to wiggle out of his shirt, but of course he didn’t take his bag off first and before Cleo could even attempt to correct him he was already tangled and giving her the most pitiful look. 

“You know what? That was my mistake, let me help you with that.”

Mirroring her own, there was a small puncture wound in his right shoulder blade bleeding sluggishly down his back. His wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as hers, but the emotional damage probably made up for it.

“This’ll make it feel better, alright?” She uncorked the bottle and dumped what was left of the potion over the wound, and watched as it began to stitch itself back together. By the time the potion was done, Martyn was in need of little more than a band-aid and her back felt a lot less on-fire than it had a moment ago. With the help of a bit of slime, she secured a layer of gauze over what was left of the cut and helped Martyn wrestle his shirt back on. Was it completely hygienic? No. But it worked in a pinch.

“Now you.” Martyn said, making a grab for the gauze.

“Ah-ah, nooo thank you.” She said, “I think Scott will help with that.” Not that she didn’t trust a toddler with her medical care, but he’d probably make a mess with the slime and she’d had quite enough of bath time for one night.

He pouted. “But I’m your soulmate! I wanna help!”

“You are, but you’re also quite the tiny thing, and I like this shirt. Scott gets it, don’t you, Scott?”

“Sure do.” Scott took the slime and bandages from her and in less than thirty seconds the job was done. 

Even though the day had only just begun, Cleo was absolutely knackered. She glanced out the window at the rising sun and blinked blearily. “We should probably let Grian know to call a break, shouldn’t we?”

“Noooooo…” Martyn whined, before letting out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Yep, on it.” Scott pulled out his communicator and sent the message, and a few seconds later the break message went out.

“Alright, naptime.” Cleo said, pulling Martyn to lay down on the bed with her and halfheartedly tugging up the blanket. Being able to finally close her eyes after the night she’d had felt like heaven.

Scott smirked and took pity on her, and helped bring the blanket up the rest of the way. “You two sleep, I’ll be across the way if you need me.”

She cracked one eye open as he turned to leave. “You sleep too, don’t think I forgot I dragged you out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Goodnight, Cleo. Goodnight, Martyn.”

Martyn was already dozing off, but he still giggled and called back a quiet, “Good morning, Scott.”

The door shut and the two of them were left in a comfortable silence. Their soul bond wrapped around them, pleasantly warm and light. Cleo was just about to fall asleep when she felt a ripple of guilt.

“…Martyn? What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” She mumbled.

“M��sorry, Cleo.”

She rolled her closed eyes and felt around for his hand, holding it loosely. “I know you are. If you really want to make it up to me, you’ll relax and have a sleep. Cleo’s tired.”

“…M’kay. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Martyn.”

[tfp-is-my-lifeblood-lol]

As a crossover made-up scenario request: TFP x TFRB?

Arce finds out that Bee has been scaping at night out the base to an island that even Jack didn't know existed. Optimus tells her that is a ¨secret mission¨ but Arcee feels that something is wrong. So one night, with Jack at her side they follow Bumblebee finding out about Griffin Rock.

Maybe this can have some gay moments with Bee and Blades, Heatwave questioning Arcee about Cybertron, and Jack being a big brother to Cody?

please?

Ooo this is fun! I've always loved the idea of the Rescue Bots being revealed to the whole team. Especially since only Bumblebee and Optimus seem to know about them (and possibly Ratchet, since he's got a few lines implying he knows. I headcanon that he does :b)

I don't really write romance (I'm kinda aroace-ish, so I don't really understand how to write romantic stuff) so the Blades and Bee part might be kinda boring and brief. I apologize in advance for that. Also, I wish I could add more Rescue Bots humans, but it was getting too long. But yeah! Enjoy!

Arcee and Jack sneaking to Griffin Rock

-Arcee would be up late at night, since she forgot to finish her latest mission log (Arcee had been fighting Airachnid, so she was more focused on her rage than anything else).

-She'd start writing using one of the base's computers...but suddenly, she hears the groundbridge open. She sees Bumblebee leave, but he doesn't notice her. Every night after that, she secretly watches him sneak off

-One day, she asks Optimus: "So, where does Bee go to, every night? Does he think I don't see him sneaking through the groundbridge?"

-Optimus explains: "Bumblebee attends to secret missions on a remote island...it is a mission that does not concern the Decepticons, and thus, is not our main objective."

-Arcee turns to Jack: "Did you know about this?"

-"No clue," Jack answers. "Maybe Raf knows?"

-She turns to Raf, who seems vaguely upset. "Bee...never told me." Says Raf.

-So Arcee's like: "Hmm..." She finds it suspicious that even RAF wouldn't know.

-Later, Jack tells Arcee: "You know...we COULD discretely follow Bee through the groudbridge, Miko-style. See where it takes us."

-"Jack," she says. "We're crossing a groundbridge to who-knows-where. It could be dangerous."

"What if there's scraplets?" Jack teases. "I'd hate for you to be face-to-face with scraplets without a non-metal human companion."

-Arcee smiles, finally caving. She lets him come along. "Fine...But! Don't tell Optimus."

-Jack: "My lips are sealed."

-Meeting the Rescue Bots is an experience and a half. Arcee is FURIOUS at first: "You're telling me Optimus has been hiding a secret team of Autobots this ENTIRE time, and never bothered to mention it to us? I thought we were 'outnumbered!"

-But once she gets to know them, she realizes...maybe they're not QUITE ready to fight Decepticons, yet. Secretly, she thinks they're kind of softies. Except for Heatwave, that is.

-Boulder paints a portrait of Arcee to honor her visit. She takes it home with her, and is very grateful.

-She tells Heatwave the story of when Jack travelled to Vector Sigma, and when Megatron rose the dead on Cybertron.

-Heatwave is like: "So...there aren't any zombie Cybertronians coming here, right?"

-Arcee replies: "...Not unless Megatron decides to get his ugly servos on more dark energon."

-"DARK ENERGON?" Blades whimpers. "Isn't that...like...the scary Unicron blood that turns everything into a monster?" He shutters. "It's like one of those Earth horror movies, but in REAL LIFE!"

-He pauses noticing that Bumblebee's watching him. If he were human, he'd probably be blushing. "Uh...I mean...BUT I'm NOT scared..." There's an awkward silence. "...Well, I'm scared to a normal degree."

-Bee lunges at Blades to tease him, letting out a buzz that probably translates to "BOO!"

-"AHHHH!" Blades screams, and Bumblebee laughs.

-Jack finds himself to be very protective of Cody. "Whoa- Are-are you sure the Rescue Bots would be ok with you climbing up there?" He questions, as Cody tries to climb Frankie's robot T-rex, "Trex."

-"Sure!" Says Cody. "Trex was built to be ridden. He can also serve coffee, and dance!"

-"Of course," Jack replies sarcastically. The technology on Griffin rock is so strange.

Conversations That Would Happen

The Suit Life of Jack and Cody (I'm so sorry, I couldn't resist making that joke LOOOOL😭)

Cody: "So, what's it like working with Optimus?"

Jack: "I-incredible, really. To be honest, sometimes...I don't really think I'm worthy."

Cody: "Well, I think you're worthy, Jack. Fighting a spider-bot, restoring the Vector...Sigma...thingy... that's NOBLE! I wanna be like you, someday!"

Heatwave and Arcee

Heatwave: "Where'd Chase go?"

Arcee: "Not sure. I was just telling him the story of how we snagged the Energon Harvester from the history museum. Chase took off driving before I could even get to the good part."

Chase, rocking back and forth in the closet: "So many violations of the law. SO MANY VIOLATIONS OF THE LAW."

Heatwave: "Congratulations, Arcee. You broke Chase."

Bumblebee and Arcee on the way back to base, through the groundbridge:

Arcee smiles and elbows Bee.

Arcee: "Blades likes you, too, you know."

If Bumblebee was a human, he'd definitely be blushing.

[wildswrites]

seven snippets, seven people.

sorry for the triple tag today, taglist, but i thought it was a good day to show off some of the stuff i’ve been working on! thanks for the tag, @sleepyowlwrites! here we go:

one. [from chapter 06]

Robin will not sit still and quiet when he is being held, and so he is sitting between Moon-sik and I, my hand just behind his back to make sure that he doesn’t fall. His little hands scrub through the dirt, shrieks of delight loud and daunting, but not nearly as loud as his distress had been. There is blood all over me - my hands, my skin, my hair - but the baby does not seem to care.

“What are you doing out here, Moon-sik?”

continued beneath cut.

two. [from chapter 07]

She ghosts over the puffy red edge of one of the cuts, and it is like an electric shot. Once when I was a child, I went over to a friend’s house. They kept horses, and I loved them, and eventually she left me waiting at the fence because I could not bear to drag myself away just yet. When she was gone, I crept closer. When she was gone, I hooked my fingers over the edge of an electric fence. When she was gone, I was extremely lucky that the voltage was low enough that I could yank myself free.

This is like that, if the voltage had been turned up three or four times as high.

three. [from chapter 08]

“I was an idiot,” he says, just when I am thinking that he has passed out on my shoulder. His words are broken by pauses to breathe, heavy breaths racketing his body and mine. My own breath is bated, waiting to hear more details of the story, but he continues it in a way that I could not have guessed. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Shouldn’t have left you. You and…”

four. [from chapter 09]

Her voice hitches, and no one comments on it. After a few seconds, she continues.

“I was worried he would draw attention, so I kept stopping to try and make him feel better. I tried everything - gave him his last bottle, changed his diaper, anything I could think of. But he wanted you, and I couldn’t give him that.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath, and Sienna releases my collar to stroke her fingertips across my throat and chin. Soft, soothing motions. I do not open my eyes, scared of what I will find looking back at me.

“We had to hide out in someone’s house for a little while - left the door wide open, so we hid in the mud room. Looked like they were having some sort of party – cars everywhere, zombies everywhere. We couldn’t get out of there until something went by, distracting them. It gave Robin a chance for a nap, but otherwise it was just awful. Then when we got here… things were crazy, here.”

five. [from chapter 10]

Moon and I are sitting in the grass, warmed by the sun and trying to convince Robin that he’s big enough to toddle back and forth between us. We’ve managed to get a few steps out of him, but nothing more; the speed at which this child will drop to his hands and knees seems almost dangerous, but if nothing else the plush grass beneath us will protect his skin.

six. [from chapter 11]

The crowd is buzzing still, chatter amongst the people filling the air with noise, but that cacophony of sound comes to a stop the moment that my grandma raises her hand.

“Welcome,” she calls out, loud and clear. I can only hope that there are still people walking the edge of the fenced property, on watch for anything bumpy and sharp. The noise is sure to draw attention, but I endeavor to trust that it is handled. “It’s wonderful to see all of you here today. I must say that I am pleasantly surprised that we have gathered such a crowd. There’s more of you than there are of us, and with over twenty people in the family, that sure is saying something!”

seven. [from writing ahead]

“As a friend. You like me as a friend, and it’s fine. I’m satisfied being your friend - I love being your friend. It’s fucking fine.” He laughs, bitter and sardonic. “Why would you even want me, anyway?” he asks, finally meeting my gaze. His eyes are watery around the edges, making my chest burn. I’ve not only managed to piss him off. I’ve made him cry too, and that may be unforgivable. “We’ve not known each other long, and I know Sienna is meant to be yours. I am perfectly fine to squish down my feelings until they are gone, but here you are. Making it really fucking hard.”

tagging in my taglist on this one, so that’s: @tate-lin ; @faelanvance ; @arionawrites ; @sarah-sandwich-writes ; @thearchangelwrites ; @zoe-louvre ; @flowerprose​ ; @thatonedreamer​ ; @thesorcerersapprentice​. i’d love to see what y’all are working on!

[finitevoid]

1. What makes horror in visual media is very different from what makes horror in written media. the key— in my opinion— to what makes horror novels scary is not what is said, but rather what is unsaid. the most unsettled I felt during the experience of reading what moves the dead was when it became clear that madeline had drowned months before the events of the book even began. And then. And then madeline just HAD to have a grand villain monologue where she says, “I’ve been dead for over a month,” my god, why TELL ME? I already figured it out. Why must she say it! It’s obvious! Why are you explaining it!

2. the fall of the house of usher doesn’t need… explaining. It’s like 7 pages of short story about the existential terror of hereditary illness. the victorian cultural fears its touching on are numerous— there’s the literal, fear of being buried alive. This was a thing that happened sometimes— people would get so ill they wouldn’t breathe, and they’d get buried in the family crypts, only for the crypts to get reopened when someone else passed away only for it to be incredibly obvious that someone was Alive In There and spent a long time trying to Escape. Look it up. but there’s also the complex social fears of losing (fiscal) class, of losing oneself to illness, the inevitability of death, and what I can only describe as a victorian understanding of mental illness. roderick (in the original story) is portrayed as talented and artsy, but losing faith in art and losing interest in his talents. it’s said that madeline used to be an artist as well, before she became nothing but a shell that roams the hallways. Man. It isn’t subtle stuff

My point here is that there’s SO MUCH HERE for a poignant horror novel about dead people and I didn’t get that. Also the bookshop I got it from included a bookmark with a WARNING for grotesque descriptions of dead animals so I was so ready for a really gory book and then it was fine so I’m a little disappointed I won’t lie any disgust I felt at the description of madeline’s condition was offset by how stupid her villain monologue about the Evil Fungus being her friend was

I did like the earlier chapters. Basically everything before her “death” was really solid. the way she acts, the way she’s described, the slow buildup, the HARES, oh my god that whole scene where the fungus talks through her to easton was great. So why did you have to undercut all that subtle horror with a long winded expository explanation of how fungus works. Not to mention denton explains half the plot in the latter half of the book like dude! why am I listening to this guy explain it when I could’ve been shown all of this! I could be experiencing it! If, narratively, I can only learn this information at this point in the story, why not write a flashback from denton’s pov of these events? or even RODERICKS? WHY DO I NOT GET TO SEE RODERICK KILL HIS SISTER

3. Why make up an entire fake country with a fake third gender warrior caste Thing in order to justify your protagonist being trans-of-some-kind in 1890s europe without actually writing a whole novel about it like dude that’s INSANE. tell me more about how this works?? You want me to believe kan is going around with buzzed hair and mens clothes and visible breasts in 1890s europe and the only shit kan gets is mild verbal awkwardness? I mean alright but I think I need more than a few paragraphs of explanations to believe that! ALSO WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ZOMBIE FUNGUS

um yeah overall? Weird book

“what moves the dead” was, like, objectively, a good book. There was nothing wrong with it. I liked easton and angus. I liked eastons little bronance with the awkwardly transphobic american. I like a good horror story where everyone works together to kill the creeping evil, that’s always nice. Um. But like. Why ? Why does this exist in the way that it does. Why is it so SHORT

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Love in a Hopeless World

A/N: Hello, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! I’m back with another fic for you! This was one of the options given to me.

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Male reader

Requested: @evansphnx12

Rating: Mature

Warnings: NSFW, smut, bottom male reader, sir kink, degradation, creampie, size kink, Choking kink, breeding kink, masturbation, and all characters are above the age of 18+

Word Count: 2355

Summary: Its turns out there weren't that many supplies in the old abandoned campus. So, you and Chris have to go deeper into the city to find more but during the little scavenge, Chris began to dirty thoughts...

I hope you enjoy it! Sorry if it’s bad! And sorry for any errors that are found!

If you like what I write, how about check out my masterlist?

Keys:

M/n: Male name.

«••••••••••••••»

[1]

[2] YOU ARE HERE

DISCLAIMER!: I never played or watched any gameplay of the resident evil series. And this doesn’t follow any of the resident evil timelines, it’s on its own.

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MINORS DNI. FEMALE READERS… I’LL ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

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Previously...

Then y'all had another round of hot steamy sex. And the others at the base had a hard time sleeping that night.

«••••••••••••••»

Your eyes twitch at the unpleasant light hitting it directly. 'It's morning already?' you moved around only to feel wet sheets. 'What happened last night?'

Then you felt a body move and a muscular arm grab you, pulling you closer. You could feel the warmth, and muscular chest pushed against your back.

'Oh! That's right!' now you remembered why you were all sticky and sleeping against Chris. 'I had sex with my superior! But he felt the same.'

Then you felt Chris move around and waking up. "Hey, baby boy," Chris said with a raspy and deep voice. "Morning." you pressed your lips against his.

"If you continue, we may have to repeat what we did last night, baby," Chris growled as pulled back, gripping your waist. You smirked before getting up.

"Come one, we have to get ready. We have important business," you said. "Ugh, can't we just sleep in and have some... Fun?" Chris complained.

"I know you haven't had sex in 5 years but we need to go get those people. We'll have fun at the end of the day," you said stressing your muscles and popping your back.

The bed creaked meaning he finally got off his ass to get ready. "We need to go get those survivors. And scavenge for more supplies," you said putting your armor on and fixing it up.

After you both got your gear and weapons, you both walked into the main area with all the others.

Everybody looked at you both and immediately looked at way. There was awkwardness in the room. 'They must have heard me last night!' Hell! maybe the whole city heard it is quiet

"Uh,- sir... We have a situation." one of the soldiers said. "shot." Chris said. "Well... it turns out there weren't that many supplies found on the campus. We need more supplies if weren't gonna go get those survivors." the soldier said

You heard listening but your mind began to wonder. You still couldn't let go of the past, you remembered one of your siblings was accepted into MIT. This was 3 months after the Raccoon City Incident.

You would see on the news- Raccoon City survivors being discriminated against by the American people. "Hey, what do I keep saying?" Chris said next to you. His conversation was done.

"Stop thinking about the past, it's long gone," you replied, mimicking his voice. Chris laughed, "Okay, baby. But we need to go get those people."

You nodded but kind of chuckled at the fact that he didn't want to do anything today but now wants to do business.

"Come on, M/n! We have to get going. EVERYONE, protect the base at all cost." Chris commanded. "YES SIR!" they all said at the same time.

You, Chris, and a few others left the confines of the base. Even though it was morning, the sky still had a grey color to it. You open the door to the back seat and closed it.

"We should be there in 20 minutes or less." the driver said starting the engine up. "Alright, let's go." the armored car pulled out before driving down the messy road.

It wasn't long before you reached the waterfront. You could see the skyline perfectly, most buildings were on the verge of collapsing. Others were burnt to where the wall showed the skeleton.

Up ahead, you saw a bridge leading into Cambridge was destroyed. 'Longfellow Bridge.' You have been to Boston before and got to explore everything before the world went hell.

The ride continued for a while. There was nothing or anyone in sight. You could see the freeway ahead but like all other ways leading into Cambridge was destroyed.

"We're closing in on Bunker Hill. They said they are taking refuge by the monument." one of them said.

And wouldn't you know it? In the distance, you could see the tall granite obelisk peaking out. It kind of looked like the one down in D.C. but this one is still standing.

What you meant by "This one is still standing" is because the capital was hit by a nuclear warhead, along with other cities across the US.

The President and other government officials were evacuated and the countries important documents were evacuated as well. So, the legacy of the US would still live.

That means the President is still alive and is in some remote area devoid of zombie life.

"I see some people! They appear to be walking around." one of the soldiers said. And the people seem to notice us because they were waving at us.

"Stop the car," Chris said, the car stopped. He and others got out. Two of the survivors looked familiar? Like you have seen them before. They both were tall and had beards.

They walked up to y'all. "Please, are you here to rescue us?" one of them pleaded. "Yes, we're here to take you to our temporary base," Chris said.

They all smiled and some hugged each other. Chris ordered the soldiers to help some things and you approached the two survivors. "Why do you two look familiar?"

One of them laughed and smiled. "Well...- are you fan of Captain America and Thor?"

Your jaw dropped and your eyes widen. "No. Way. You're Chris Evans and Hemsworth!" you were lost at speech. "I thought y'all was dead! I- how-"

"Well, we survived! I'm not too sure about the others though..." Chris H said with that thick Australian accent. You both were just talking, unknown to Chris R was glaring holes into your head.

After y'all returned to MIT Dorms, you still talked with Chris E and H. You didn't even acknowledge Chris R's glares.

He was getting more and more jealous. 'I hate those two!' Chris yelled in his mind. They were taking your attention from him.

"We have to go M/n! We need to find supplies." Chris yelled at you. 'What's wrong with him?' you thought to yourself. "Bye guys!" You waved at the two Chris.

"He was fun to talk to." Chris H said and Chris E agreed.

«••••••••••••••»

TIMESKIP (To Supermarket)

«••••••••••••••»

You and Chris arrived at the market. There were some abandoned cars in the parking lot. "Come on." You both walked to the doors and opened them.

The place was absolutely trashed. Lights flickering, aisles tipped over, some cans on the floor - also money, which was useless-, and the roof caved in on the left side.

"Look for non-perishables. Canned food would be good and find any water- if there is any that is." you nodded your head before going down one of the aisles.

There were some canned foods but no water. The smell of a rotting corpse filled the air, you could hear flies buzzing. "Ugh." you covered your nose and looked at the rotting corpse. "Poor bastard..."

Meanwhile, Chris was looking for the same stuff, but he was still bitter about you talking to those guys. And completely ignoring him. He could already imagine your punishment.

He could imagine you begging for more, feeling the tightness of your ass wrapped around his cock. 'Shit.' Chris was getting hard. His cock was feeling restricted by the tight pants.

"Hurry up, M/n!" Chris yelled from the other side of the store. "Okay!" you finished gathering anything you could find. 'Why are we leaving early? We have few more places to loot/raid.'

You left the aisles and made your way to the front doors. "Come on, we have to go." you both we made went to the vehicle and drove back to base.

You had found some supplies. 15 canned foods, and some water as well. It wasn't much, but it's something.

«••••••••••••••»

TIMESKIP (Arrival at the base.)

«••••••••••••••»

You and Chris arrived at MIT. You were gonna go talk with Chris E and H, but Chris R wasn't having it.

"Hey-" Chris grabbed your hand and began to rush to the room. Everyone knew what was gonna happen. 'Ah, shit- there gonna go at it again.'

At the room, Chris pinned you against the wall and latched his lips onto yours. The kiss rough, his much larger body pushed against yours shows the difference in size.

His tongue pushed against your teeth telling you to open them. You slowly pushed your mouth, Chris immediately pushed his tongue and invaded your mouth.

"Mmm-" you moaned into the kiss as Chris began to grip your ass. "Up." He growled into your ear. You wrapped your legs around his waist and continued to make out.

He lifted you and carried you to the bed. He slammed you onto your back before pulling away and attacking your neck. "A-ah!" Chris found your sweet spot.

"You belong to me, M/n! I claimed you that night we had sex last night!" Chris growled. "Strip." he quickly removed his clothes, leaving him in his boxers.

You could see the outline thick meaty cock. "You got hard from just kissing me?" you laughed. "You don't talk me like that! You're the slut here." Chris growled as he gripped and slapped your thighs.

You whimpered under the touch. "Look at you, whimpering under me. And your pathetic cock got hard from me hitting you. But let's see what this ass has to say." Chris said as he put your legs on his shoulders

You then felt his thick slicked fingers at your entrance. One finger slips in, your muscles immediately clenched at the invader. "M-mm." you gripped the sheets as his finger pushed deeper.

Then a second finger went in. You clench even more as it did a scissor motion. "Aagh!" you felt his fingers touch the bundle of pleasure. "You're ready."

Chris pulled his fingers out to see your hole doing a grabbing motion. 'Fuck... that's hot.' Chris threw his head back while jerking his cock. "Can't wait to pound this slutty boipussy."

You felt his fat tip push past your tight ring. "Mmm... C-Chris!-"

Smack

"YOU DON'T CALL ME THAT! You didn't learn from last time? You. Call. Me. Sir. You got that?" Chris growled/yelled. "Y-yes, Sir... It's just that... You're so big..." You whimpered.

Then with one Thrust, Chris pushed his entire cock inside. "See? You're taking all 12 inches of me! Fuck, so tight..." Chris groaned. His cock was touching your prostate.

His thick meaty cock filled your insides perfectly. Like you were made for each other. "Y-you're... splitting m-me... in two!" you moaned as you felt it throb and twitch.

"P-please... fuck me... make me your slut." you begged. Chris smirked before snapping his hips.

He began pounding into you. His big cum-filled balls smacked against your ass as he thrusts harder. "S-sir! Y-you feel... s-so good!" You moaned as you threw your head back and gripped the sheets tighter.

"You think those guys can fuck you like I do?! Only I can give you this pleasure, only me!" Chris growled as he thrust harder, hitting your prostate repeatedly.

You used the last of your strength to get up and wrapped your arms around Chris's neck. You clawed his back as he thrust more, you were sure those were gonna leave marks.

"Maybe those guys can give me more pleasure," you smirked at your fake statement. You heard a deep growl as Chris dropped you on the bed and flipped you onto your stomach.

"You fucking slut! Only I can give you this much pleasure! Those guys don't deserve you. Bet their cocks aren't as big as mines." Chris growled as he gripped your hips.

Sounds of skin-slapping and balls slapping against your ass filled the room and the others in the building had to hear it. The walls weren't soundproof.

Your cock was twitching, ready to release a load. "You're about to cum without me touching you! Well, I'm -FUCK- about to cum too." Chris groaned as you tighten around him.

"P-please... give me... y-your load!" You moaned as you arched your back to give Chris more access. "Want me to fill this slutty ass with my cum? Gonna... cum... soon!"

After 5 more thrusts, Chris reached his breaking point, and so did you.

"FUCK! I'M CUMMING! CUM WITH ME!" Chris groaned, he wrapped his hand around cock stroking it before you released it all over his hand. That was enough for him.

"FUCK!" you felt his cock twitch before pumping his hot load inside, filling you up to the brim.

*Breathing intensifies*

Chris collapses onto the bed right next to you with his cock still inside. You felt him pull out with his cum leaking out. "I'll never leave you for those two. My heart only beats for you," you said sincerely turning over to face him.

"I'll never leave you too. We'll be together until our time runs out." Chris said pulling you into a kiss filled with passion and love.

'There is still Love in a Hopeless World.'

THE END.

«••••••••••••••»

A/N: Finally this is done! I hoped you enjoy this, by 🍓Little Strawberries🍓!

[ironwoman359]

What are all ur side blogs?

My blogs are as follows:

@ironwoman359 - The Main. You are Here!

@ironwoman359-writes - The Writblr. Mostly just pretty pictures that make me want to write things, sometimes writing tips and original work too, but most stuff I write there gets reblogged to my main.

@ironwhumper359 - The Whumpblr. Sometimes, you just gotta torture a character, ya know? I know heavier whump squicks some people out, so the original work that I write there does *not get reblogged to the main, follow me there if you wanna see that stuff.

@ts-replicated-au - A Sanders Sides Clone au that is the newest and most active of my au sideblogs. The entire story is told through the interactive nature of the blog, so it will not be crossposted to AO3 or reblogged in its entirety here (though I do sometimes reblog bits of it to my main to entice new readers, tagged as #ts replicated au if you want to filter it)

@sanders-sanctuary-au - A Sanders Sides Borrower au; the blog is technically not dead, but I haven’t posted there in quite awhile. The story itself is less interactive that Replicated, but the au is still pretty contained to that blog specifically.

@fanders-sanctuary-au - during the Sanctuary AU’s heyday, there were a lot of readers creating ocs who might live in the universe and submitting them to the blog; to keep things more organized, I created this sideblog specifically for oc submissions, making it technically a sideblog of a sideblog!

@ask-agent-sanders - askblog for the characters of my Sanders Sides Marvel AU. The story didn’t start out as 100% interactive like Replicated, and major fic installments are still posted on my main first (and then reblogged to the sideblog), the story has become more interactive as time has gone on. If my marvel au is something you like, following the sideblog will probably let you see more of it sooner than it’d be posted to my main.

@ask-the-tooth-and-claw-clan - askblog for the characters of my Sanders Sides story Tooth and Claw. Used mainly as a fun way to explore the characters and universe, plus it helped me write chapter 2 of the fic. Eventually I’ll probably use it to help me write the rest.

@until-the-sun-rises - This is a Sanders Sides zombie apocalypse au that I cowrite with my friend @buzz-by-bee. It’s a traditional fic style, but we decided to make a separate blog just for it since we’re cowriting it together. It’s been a long time since we updated it because life has been crazy busy, but just like all the other blogs here, it’s technically not a Dead AU, just on pause temporarily.

@paws-and-claws-au - This is another Sanders Sides collab, this time with my friend @thegremlinprince, but this blog is technically Dead. The most recent post there explains it in more detail, but I’m actually going to rewrite the story from the ground up to adjust to the lore changes that have happened in Sanders Sides since Grim and I started writing this story. I’m just leaving the blog up until I do so, so that the story doesn’t disappear.

@the-twisted-ones-au - This is a placeholder blog for an idea I had for a Sanders Sides fantasy au where magic users are either hunted down and killed or forced to serve the crown…I haven’t gotten around to starting it yet, but if that sounds interesting to you give the blog a follow! I’m sure I’ll write it some day…

@bad-at-bullet-journaling - Ah, a non-sanders sides blog! This is my (rarely used but still nice to have) bullet journaling sideblog, built on the philosophy of “It doesn’t matter if the journal is pretty, it just needs to be functional for You.”

@the-muppets-present - So my husband and I think it’s funny to try and do that thing where you replace the entire cast of a movie with muppets except for One Human Guest Star (in the vein of Muppet Christmas Carol or Muppet Treasure Island) and I thought it’d be fun to do that on tumblr. I haven’t actually DONE any of them yet, but when I want to, I at least have a place to! I occasionally reblog muppet stuff there too, but not often.

@music-for-the-kidz - So sometimes I find good music stuff on here that I want my students to see but I don’t want them to see my url or to see some of the comment threads ON said videos, so this is a clean blog where I can reblog those video safely and anonymously. I used it way more last year when I was teaching middle school general music during since the pandemic kept me from having band and choir like normal.

And the last one, I won’t tell you the url for, because the whole point of it is that it’s anonymous. I haven’t used it in like 6 months, but the idea was to have a place to reblog or post stuff that I didn’t want to put on my main because it was just ASKING for trouble and by trouble I mean stupid discourse. So yeah, even though I don’t really use it anymore, still not giving that url out.

So yeah! All 15 of my blogs, more or less in order of how often I use them/what order they’re in on my sidebar. Feel free to check any of them out if you want, I sure would like to post on some of them more this year, but who knows what will happen?

[kaylathekittykat225]

Carnival Ride of Horror // Steve Harrington x Reader

Carnival of Horror // SH

Warning/s: Cursing, laughing at inappropriate times, (very minimal) mentions/implications of abuse/stalking (just wanna warn, its super small but just in case!)

Word Count: 3.5k

Hey guys! It’s been a bit since I’ve written, lemme tell you, life has been kinda crappy and its just a little less crappy now! So I decided to start pecking at the keyboard again and this is what came of it! This lovely person requsted this work and I just got around to starting to really write because I had a free week. Anywhoodles, it’s good to write something again and I hope yall enjoy it!

Again thank you for this idea @seraphiiii

omg i came across your post about writing ideas in my feed and got so excited to see both steve harrington and young justice in the tags lmao. but i think a steve harrington x reader where reader and him go to an amusement park and reader is terrified of the rides so he’s like comforting her throughout them and encouraging her but also laughing (in a good natured way obvi) about how scared she is and stuff? i think that would be so cute!!

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

-----

“Stevie, when we agreed to have a date night away from the kids, I didn't think we would be going into a mass of more kids.” As he pulled the keys out, you stared at the bright light shining machinery that had been set in the middle of a field outside the city. The annual summer fair had finally made its way to Hawkins, and it had left a buzz in the air as everyone planned when they would go, talked about what rides had come this year, who their ride buddy would be; it had been all the kids had been talking about for weeks. They put a day together the coming weekend to go as a group and they planned to drag Steve and you along on the off chance that they needed an “adult” to allow them on the rides.

Funny how they assumed either Steve or you knew how to adult.

“Cause I thought it would be a nice change from us just watching movies or having dinner.”

“Oh, so dino nuggets are no longer date-worthy for you.” Steve almost took you seriously, but he saw the grin that has graced your lips at your own comment. He relaxed a little knowing that you weren’t upset with his idea for date night, but he had always wanted to kiss someone at the top of a Ferris Wheel, and he would do anything to get you to the top of the rotating ride.

“So, you’re not mad that I chose here for tonight?” You shook your head and pulled at the door handle separating the two of you from the outside life.

“Of course not Stevie, I just thought it was an interesting choice.” The smile you chose to have was one that hopefully convinced him that you were okay with where the pair of you were going, even if you weren’t happy with the choice.

You can be happy with the idea of going to a carnival as long as you don’t go on-”Cool, so what ride do you want to do first?”

“Shit.” The world slipped out before you could stop yourself as Steve finished paying for your tickets and asked what you had said. “Nothing just kicked myself. Um…” You looked around frantically for something to do that wasn’t flashing brightly and spinning faster than the legal highway speed. “Let’s go over there!”

Steve followed your hand as he saw you point towards the stands of games that were rigged and way too fricking expensive, but he would do it for you. “Alright, starting out with some games I see, I like it.”

The two of you ran through a few of the games, most of them where Steve got way too into it and you had to step between them as he tried screaming that he deserved that stuffed bear/pony/cat/fish, because he almost had it every single time. He did beat out the basketball one, one of the last ones the two of you did on that strip, bolstering his confidence just enough to get him into a cheery enough mood.

“Alright! We played some games, and let the crazies test out the rides so I’m pretty sure they won’t break down on us. Which one should we do first? They got a drop tower, or how about the pit viper swings? Or, or, or how about we…” The night had been going enjoyable up until Steve turned to the rides you had managed to distract him from and pointed at the glowing and fast-moving monsters.

“How about we do the haunted walk over there?” Steve followed your pointing finger with a quizzical look, he hadn’t really taken note of the scary attraction before, never thought to really look to it with everything else going on. “I bet it won’t even be scary to us after everything we’ve been through right ha.”

You took off with a dry laugh without waiting for a response from him; his cries were head behind you, but the haunted house looked better than anything else around you. “Y/N.” He called you again, but you walked faster. By the time you got to the stairs leading into the building, you were practically running up them to get into the dark house with smoke billowing out of it.

“Y/N!” Your name was the last thing you heard before diving through the door and physically bumping into one of the scarers dressed as a zombie. He seemed nice, breaking character enough to ask if you were okay before you had already turned the corner and left him behind too.

Twisting and turning, you didn’t pay much mind to the screaming witches, zombies, skeletons, or anything that happened all around you; over the music and screaming, you could vaguely hear your name, giving you an indication that Steve followed you.

Not too far in, you found a quieter corner with only a couple cobwebs around it where you quickly ducked back into and tried pressing yourself into it deeper, hoping to watch Steve walk right by you.

Why the hell were you running from your boyfriend? You gained a sense of logic for a second where you paused. Why were you running? This was super childish of you and really had no reason. All Steve wanted to do was go on a few rides and you were being selfish and completely ruining what was going to be one of the few evenings you didn’t have to babysit the kids.

As the guilt started to swirl with your desire to not be found, you didn’t notice as the Frankenstein in the room had taken notice of you hiding in the corner and started to tromp over to you. “Hey, miss, you can’t be hiding in here, you gotta keep moving.”

“I’ll be out in a second, sir, let me just-” “You can’t be here-” “If you give me a second, I will leave as soon as I can-” “Miss you have to leave-” “Give me one dan minute-” “Y/N!”

Among all the screaming the Frankenstein and you had been doing was your name being called by a third and new voice along with a hand clasping onto your shoulder. Looking to the hand, you saw the unmistakable outline of the man you were hiding from. “There you are babe, why were you running off.” Just looking at the Frankenstein’s demeanor, you could tell he went into defense mode suddenly.

“Were you hiding from him miss? Are you okay? Do you feel safe?” The painted man moved to step between you and Steve in an attempt to separate you two.

“Whoa, whoa buddy, back off. She’s my girlfriend, chill out.” Steve tried stepping around the man o little success.

“Oh, your girlfriend? And she’s running from you? I don’t think this is looking very good for you, buddy.” The two were shooting back and forth at each other, getting chest to chest, and starting to cause a larger disturbance that started o be heard over the music and background scream noises. More workers it looked like started to slip into the room and try to get the two men to quiet down, going so far as to begin threats of throwing them out of the haunted house.

You were pulled away from the situation before being pushed away and into the next room, looking like it was on its way to the exit in the next two or three rooms: your destination.

-----

“Y/N?” His voice finally chirped up next to you as Steve took a seat next to you on the grass at the edge of the carnival. “You okay?” When he saw you sitting over here, he had quickly jogged over and took her in as he did so: sitting with her face pressed into her knees and arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she kept herself in as tight of a ball as possible.

You didn’t respond at first, only moving your head to look up at your boyfriend, the person you have embarrassed tonight and most definitely pissed off with your childish antics tonight. “I’m sorry.”

“Whoa what do you have to apologize for? I’ve been worried about you and wanted to make sure that you are okay.” His hand found its way to your back and began rubbing circles into your shoulder blade.

“I was really childish today and you didn’t deserve it, all because I was scared of the stupid rides.” Your words may have been mumbles, but he heard every word clearly.

“Hold on. Babe, did you say you were scared of the rides?” Your small and timid nod was enough for him to understand. “Why didn’t you tell me? I never would have brought you here if I knew that!”

Swallowing the thick feeling in your throat, you looked up at him and saw the disappointment and hurt in his face and that hurt. “Because you were so excited about it, I thought I could get through it and do at least one or two with you. But as we got closer, I guess my nerves got the best of me and I just...ran. Like a stupid child.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Steve quickly shuffled to kneel in front of you and grabbed your hands, holding them in his own and your legs fell down to where you were now criss cross apple sauce. “I’m not gonna force you to do any of these rides if you don’t wanna. If you want to just go home, we can make this a movie night if that works better for you.”

“No, Stevie,” His mouth quirked up at this name. “You already bought the tickets; I don’t want you to waste the money you earned because I’m a scaredy cat.”

Steve took a second to think, racking his brain on how to salvage what has been an eventful evening. “How about…” He paused again and just stared at you with you staring back at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to say. “You can say no, how about we try a few rides, to try and get you on some. If you don’t like riding after one, we can go home, and you can at least say you did it.”

Mulling this idea over in your head, your eyes shifted from where your boyfriend sat in front of you to the bright and joyous scream filled rides were. “I suppose they don’t all look so bad.” You murmured to him, staring particularly at the giant Ferris Wheel that turned, a small memory from early on in your relationship popping into your head. Steve had mentioned a few times that his dream date would be to take a girl up on a Ferris Wheel and cuddle her and kiss her when they got to the top.

“Okay, we can try a few.” Though shaky, your voice was a little stronger this time and you gave Steve a small smile.

“You sure?” A nod. “Okay, I’ll let you choose which one we go on, okay?” Another nod.

Together, the two of you stood to your feet and approached the hustle and bustle of the carnival grounds again. “What did that Frankenstein do to you? I hope he didn’t get you in trouble or anything.” You asked as you laced your hand with Steve while the other went to hold onto his arm, squeezing it slightly as you got closer to the machines and your stomach growing heavy again.

“Oh him, he didn’t do much, just tried scaring me when he though I was some creep chasing you.” He chuckled at the short story, glancing over to you as you took in the carnival for really the first time, looking for something that didn’t freak you out. “How about we start with those spinning pods over there? All they do is spin around and if you want it to, we can make it spin on the inside too.”

Following his finger, you saw what he was referring to as it did spin around, the four small egg things with windows in them were spinning on the main machinery but also appeared to be spinning on their own. As you got closer and apparently joined the line, you could see inside one of them a group of middle school boys cackling as they pulled on the weird center disk that kinda looked like a pizza pan. “Yeah, we can give it a try.” The shakiness in your voice had come back and your grip on Steve tightened.

“Hey, you got this I’ll be right here with ya.” He returned the squeeze to your hand and fishes through his pocket for two tickets to hand over at the entrance. “Up ya go.” He mutters as he helps you up the three stairs leading into the egg ride thing you were entering before he stepped in behind you and took his place next to you. You were already holding a death grip on the center console when the door was shut, and Steve sat next to you. “You know what this is?” He asked gesturing to the disk you were holding onto with the vice grip.

“Something for me to hold onto?” You shocked yourself with how violently your voice was shaking as you heard something start to rumble around you. “Oh, shit its moving.” Steve let a quick chuckle out before he stopped himself and tried explaining the center console would cause the pod thing to spin. “Fuck no! Don’t you dare make this thing spin.” Bloody murder was not even near definitive enough of how much you were screaming.

“Babe, babe calm down, it’s fine! I promise, ha!” In comparison to your screaming, Steve seemed to be having the time of his life as he laughed; at least he wasn’t making the ride spin. “Babe, babe, babe, I’m so sorry I’m laughing, I promise I didn’t mean to, but you were screaming so much! And it was hilarious!” Steve held onto his sides as he nearly fell out of the pod and waited for you to follow his laughing self. When you didn’t step out, he turned back around and saw you still had your hands clenched very tightly to the metal plate, your eyes wide and your lips pursed together. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about the rides, do you wanna go home?”

Hearing him soften up got you to finally look at him and slowly let go of the wheel. “N-n-no. I’m…” You paused to catch your breath and steady your voice. “I’m good, I just don’t know if I can do any more of these kinds of things.” Taking his hand, you pulled yourself up and stepped out from the ride and have yourself a few seconds to remember how to use your legs.

“You okay?” You nodded at him and gave a shaky, but okay smile. “You sure you wanna do another one? Cause we can go-”

“No, no, I can do…” The carnival really did have more rides than just ones that wanted to make you die, but none that really made you want to jump on them. “Can we do the carousel? I know I can do that one at least, my mom took me on them enough as a kid to be desensitized to those ones.” Steve looked over and saw the carousel that was filled predominately by smaller children, but if you wanted to do this and it was because he bought the tickets, he couldn’t make her do something else.

“If that’s what you wanna do, then we can do the carousel all night long, babe.” You nodded at him and followed him as he took your hand and the two began the walk to the carousel.

The carousel ride was much less curse filled, thankfully. You and Steve had found a pair of horses sitting side by side and the two of you quickly claimed them. Like you had said, you did get to enjoy this ride due to having done it before and you were able to just chat between the two of you, talking about how the kids were cute, how excited you were to take the kids to the park and not have to rides. It was a fine ride, definitely better than the last one.

“You ready to go home, babe?” Steve turned to you with a smile on his face. Getting you to ride two of the rides was honestly enough for him, plus, he knew Dustin would ride all of them with him later, with you waiting at the end for him.

You were about to agree and leave this eventful evening behind you, but you saw what Steve was standing near and bit your lip. Should you do it? Could you do it? “Actually, I wanna do one more.” He gave a quick quirk of his head before he followed your eyeline and turned around.

“What? Babe, we don’t have to do that, you have been through enough today and you were great, you don’t have to prove anything.”

“But...you have been wanting to do it, you told me about it one time.” You responded a little shyly as you confessed that you were doing it back of what he told you that one time. “I just...I really want you to be able to do it.”

“You...you remembered?” Steve was kind of shocked that you remembered him mentioning it, he had told that to girls in the past, but none of them really went out of their way to think about it, hell, even to remember it. “Are you su-”

“Steve, yes, I wanna do it with you.” The grin on his face was immaculate and contagious as one grew on your face as he quickly took this well and pulled you towards the line to the Ferris Wheel and dug around in his pockets for another round of tickets.

As it went around, you felt your stomach grow heavy again when you finally saw how high it got and had to calm yourself down without causing another scene. ��Come on, babe, looks like ours is up.” He gently tugged on your hand and pulled you into the seat next to him before the handlebar was lowered and locked in front of you. “And here we go!”

The squeak that left your mouth was nothing but surprise and terror as you clung onto the bar for your life, your knuckles turning white with the sheer force you were holding on. “It’s really stupid you know that the only thing holding us back from falling to our death is this small bar and it’s really stupid because was if I was reall-holy shit this is really tall!” You finally removed your hands from the bar and moved to press yourself in Steve.

You could feel him trying to stop himself from giggling as he moved his arm to wrap it around you. “You can laugh you know; I really don’t care. I’m the coward of an almost twenty-year-old who’s scared of a carnival.” A chuckle did come through as the ride kept rotating and you slowly moved closer to the bottom.

“I’m not laughing at you, babe, but the noises you are making are fricking hilarious.” His voice still held the chuckle as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and you responded with another squeak of shock as you started rising again.

Making it to the top again, you were waiting for it to hit its peak and for the relief of lowering the cart to begin, but instead there was a shudder before the ride stopped. “What’s going on, what’s going on, why are we stopped? Oh god we are about to die, fuck, shit, I don’t wanna die.”

“Babe, calm down, someone below us is getting off so they had to stop the ride for a bit. Remember when we had to get on? Same thing probably happened to someone else.” You nodded your head and just stared ahead to the tops of the trees you never thought you would have seen.

“It’s...it’s not too bad up here.” You finally mutter after a few beats of silence and getting your bearings. “I wouldn’t want to stay up here, but it does look nice.” Steve hummed in agreement and pulled you a little closer. “Hey Stevie?”

“Hmm?” He responded looking down at you.

“Thanks, tonight was fun.”

His face broke out into a grin again at your thanks. “Of course, thanks for giving a few of these rides a chance.” Smiling up at him, you sat a little straighter and caught his lips with your own, the two of you humming to the other that you were happy with your evening.

Though it was not as long as Steve would have wanted to stay in that moment with you (the ride started again and you broke away with another shriek), but he wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything else in his life.

[1ddotdhq]

🏴‍☠️Sat 31 Oct ‘20🎃

Harry is sending out 150 Golden postcards (they appear to be numbered out of a batch of 150) from the Golden website! They all have the Amalfi Coast on the front, “You’re so Golden” written on them, and are signed, “ <3 HARRY”. Look, I thought that LOUIS had trouble with hearts, but Harry’s are, uh, somehow worse. It’s been gleefully pointed out that fans have been selling postcards for Harry’s singles for the last few months, and that Harry once again seems to be looking to us for promo ideas! Hey, if it works, it works, and if Harry wants to send me a postcard I’d LOVE it hahaha. Niall is taking a page out of Liam’s book and is rehearsing his show - which is in ONE WEEK (!) - and his band members continue to post pictures of their rehearsals. Love that! But lest you think it's a slow news day aside from Liam NO-- Zayn posted his annual halloween look!! A zelfie!!! Less elaborate than past years, maybe he's not getting enough sleep for some reason, but amazing (amazayn) nonetheless: he's angled downwards, pulling a funny face, with his freshly buzzed hair, earrings, and a Slytherin tie over a white shirt captioned, “Happy Halloween from Slytherin”. Liam’s chat when the picture dropped: “Zayn have you SLITHERED IN HERE???” Hope he enjoyed Tom and Liam's show...

And on to the main event: Liam has DONE IT AGAIN!! Despite some wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff with the event time (it started one hour and ten minutes later than planned), once Liam got started, nobody could drag him down! Lola Young, Carly Gibert, and Tom Felton were all charming openers, and, because of their very different styles, they all brought something new to the table. Then Liam, broadcasting from the London Dungeons (a spooky tourist attraction), started the show trapped in a cage (so HE’S the cage dancer this time!). The songs he chose from his own discography were ghoulish and grim and surrounding the topic of, uh, life and death. It did seem to be intentional, though, as this all led up to a moment when a masked guard led Liam out of the concert and into a bloody tribunal, where they accused him of “crimes against fashion” and “being a bad bandmate”. They had fans on zoom playing the prosecutor and defense. He was acquitted of the first crime after a fierce defense from a fan, but after a long list of joking accusations of him being mean to the other boys (it felt uncomfortably like a normal day on twitter, but Liam says no fighting about it!), the prosecutor convicted him (was I outraged?? YES! I WAS!), and the sentence was DEATH. Liam then did a bit of a costume change: he went from Jack Sparrow to ZOMBIE PIRATE, ie added some uncomfortable contacts ("guys I can't see anything").Then he came back to finish his set with Billie Eilish and 5SOS covers, and SEVERAL One Direction songs: Live While We're Young, Drag Me Down, One Thing, What A Feeling (can you believe this is only the SECOND TIME a member of 1D has performed it live? AMAZING!), and a cool personalized version of Midnight Memories (“the opening number has now become the closing number”).

And then the Afterparty!! Liam, as promised, involved MUA Abby Roberts in picking his Halloween makeup looks, the winner being a fantastically scary writing of “Liam Payne” on a fan’s face that was made to look like mottled scar tissue - UGH what an INCREDIBLE look! He also pulled up his “accusers” on zoom, told fans that it was all in good fun and to not send any hate, and admitted that he also felt bad for pantsing Harry. But, he insisted, it’s not his fault! Louis dared him to do it! And, as everyone knows, no one in that band was allowed to back down from a dare. Abby Roberts admitted to being a 1D fan - she even visited some popups! - and videographer Conor also spilled that he first met Liam at a 1D meet and greet. Liam thought this was the best thing, and reminisced about being at the very dungeon he was in ten years prior for Halloween with the (then brand new and still on the X Factor) band. A crew member then managed to scare up (heh) a picture, which was sweet and nostalgic, which was true of a lot of the show! Personally, this has been my favorite LP Show, and Liam has really raised the bar for what online shows can and should be.

Of course, like with all good parties, there was an AFTER afterparty, where he spilled some more tea! He streamed live on Tik Tok - is it time for me to concede and get a Tik Tok??? Sigh, the things I do for these boys. In his after afterparty, he answered some more questions about himself and the boys. He said he was glad to have done a show on the anniversary of the last One Direction show (sad), that he wrote several songs with Louis that have not been released, notable HideAway and even sung a bit of it: “Something in the way she moves...we just have to hide away”. He also said that he saw Harry last year at the Jingle Ball and that he had a slight American accent (“he said ‘AHND’ that way”), that his phone bill would be huge if he called Louis right now (hmmmmm), and that even if he DID call to prank him, Louis would just swear anyways, which was not what they were going for. Awwww, friendship!

[ifwallscouldtalkkkk]

Ashton's Coffee Shop Flirt [Part 1]

Female reader x Ashton Irwin

SFW, but contains some swearing

____________________________________

After being stood up for a date several times at the small coffee shop that your friend-of-a-friend Ashton works at, he sits down with you to keep you company after closing hours

____________________________________

"Still a no-show?"

His words snapped you out of the trance you had been put in by the buzzing of the coffee machines and the gentle clinking of porcelain cups.

"Uh, no. I mean, yeah. Still a no-show." You replied.

Ashton stood leaned over at the counter, scribbling circles on a little notepad by the cash register.

"It's almost closing time, so unless he comes sprinting in in the next 30 seconds, I think his time is up. What is this, the 3rd time?" Ashton asked.

"Well, the first time it was an actual emergency, so I don't think I should count that one", you stated. You had matched with a guy on Tinder who seemed really keen on meeting you, but he had yet to actually show up to any of your coffee dates. The first time, he actually had ended up in the ER for a ligament injury, and he had sent photos from the hospital explaining that he was really sorry and that he would turn up if the ER visit went swiftly. It of course didn't, it's an ER. The other 2 times it seemed to just have been unfortunate coincidences, but your excitement had definitely faltered, especially with his habit of not contacting you explaining that he won't make it until long after the planned meetup time. Still, you weren't really the busy bee of the century, so the long days at the coffee shop hadn't been too torturous. As head barista, Ashton had had the privilege to witness all 3 instances of you spending the majority of your day sitting in his coffee shop, patiently waiting for someone that would never show up.

Ashton made an amused skeptical face at you. "You know what, let's give him one last chance", he said. "I'm not in a rush, let's give him the chance to do the romantic-airport-last-minute-chase-down."

He ripped the cap off of a large marker pen with his teeth and started writing something on a notebook paper. When he finished, he recapped the marker and dramatically unveiled his masterpiece to you.

《CLOSED FOR TODAY, UNLESS YOUR NAME IS MARK SOMETHING AND YOU'RE LATE FOR A VERY IMPORTANT TINDER DATE (PLEASE YELL VERY LOUDLY AND WE'LL LET YOU IN)》

You rolled your eyes in a smile while Ashton pulled the blinds shut and taped the handmade sign on the outside of the door. After locking the door, he plopped down on the couch next to you, before immediately shooting back up on his feet. "Wait, want anything to drink?" He asked. You looked down at your long-empty latte mug, and sloshed around the tiny bit of foam left at the bottom. "I don't think I should have any more caffeine today", you replied. He raised his hands in an "ok"-sign and disappeared behind the coffee bar counter for a short while.

The reason you were even in this coffee shop in particular was because Ashton and you had a mutual friend who swore by this location being the very best place for first dates. Something about chakras and auras circulating perfectly in the building... To be honest, you hadn't really listened that closely during that part. Now that you had spent some time here, you seriously doubted the chakra part, and you were pretty sure that the real magic was Ashton's way to light up the place with good vibes. During your long hours here, you had never once seen anyone leave without a smile or at least a smirk on their face. Even when the newly hired barista got an order slightly wrong at times, Ashton's way of interacting with customers was just too sincere and charming to leave anyone upset. Even the music was different. Instead of the typical calm playlists you tended to find in other coffee shops, Ashton used his own playlists made up of every genre out there and then some. It wasn't unusual to glance over and see Ash singing along to whatever song was playing, or see him grabbing the occupied hands of his coworkers and forcing them to do a little goofy dance with him.

Ashton came back with a coffee cup for himself and a plate of cookies and sat down. "Leftovers", he said. "Would be a shame to throw them out." You grabbed one gratefully.

"So this Mark guy, what makes him so special?" Ashton asked between sips. You furrowed your brow in thought for a few seconds before replying. "I don't actually know an awful lot about him. He seems very driven, and confident. I guess it sort of flatters me that he would think of me as worthy of his attention", you replied, your words sounding a bit more pathetic that you intended. Ashton chuckled. "You're kidding, right? I've seen like several people staring at you like you're their blushing bride while you've hung out here. You know, Jacob, the coffee bean delivery guy? I've had to start running and catching him out back before he has a chance to come in because the guy ends up drooling like a zombie if he sees you. You're quite the chore to hang out with, you know?" He paused for a split second before adding "no, sorry, that came out wrong. I didn't mean you were a bother, but you for sure don't have a shortage of suiters, little girl."

You looked at your hands holding your cookie and chewed it slowly in thought. Seriously? You knew you weren't a complete lost cause or anything, but you had never really noticed anyone straight up ogling you in public. You guessed that it was technically possible that you were just blind to it, but the thought still felt surreal and uncomfortable.

"Uhh well I know I'm not the best at accepting compliments, but that still sounds like some grossly exaggerated bullshit, Ash." His smile widened and he let out a scoffing chuckle. His lowered his face and tilted his head with searching, focused eyes to coax you to make eye contact again. It worked.

"Hey", he began, with his eyebrows raised in a smug but caring expression. "You're pretty, ok?" Your instant reflex was to scrunch your face up in a cringing reaction. "Nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh, none of that. Try again" he objected. You tried your best to hold eye contact and not squirm when he repeated himself. "You're pretty. You're a pretty girl." He dramatically grabbed your face with both his hands and shook you gently for comedic effect. "You're a nice, sweet, person. You're hot, and this Mark guy can fuck right off."

____________________________________

To be continued...

Part 2 out now!

Heyy! Sorry for this chapter being uneventful. I was gonna continue it further, but the next part will basically be pure smut so I thought I could split it into 2 pieces for those who don't like that stuff. Lmk if you'd rather have it be one whole thing or if splitting it is ok.

Again, the next chapter will continue this particular story and will be PURE SMUT

ifwallscouldtalkkkk MASTERLIST

[writeremilyn]

Hello!

My pen name is Emily Nikoll and I am a writer!

This is an introductory post/get to know Tumblr again cause I havent been here since maybe 2014..

I wanted somewhere to make more writing friends and find a place to share my stories and get some writing practice in as I know there are a million prompts on here! I see them all over pinterest and Insta. Why not come to the source?

A little more about me. Im 27. Married. 5 cats and one dog. Aside from writing, i love knitting, crochet and nature photography. And im a proud owner of an Alphasmart Neo2 and im OBSESSED with the thing.

Im a multi genre writer. My writing styles are Horror, thriller, psycho, dark romance, erotic, whump, science fiction. And then i also like the sweet pure romance stuff too. The "darker" the better, but im learning there is a limit to myself.

As i said in the bio i have roughly 76+ drafts/outlines in google docs. Im constantly deciding I want to hop around instead of picking ONE and writing it to completion. Which will eventually be the death of me!! 🤣

A few of the things im working on currently.

A few kidnapping novels

A novel about wendigos

A novel about vampires and zombies

A photographer exploring an abandoned building

A novel about a virus (i know, Youre probably cringing, but i like it)

A novel about a fallen angel

Multiple short story collections

A prompt book to get rid of some extra ideas i know i could never write and bring justice too but i want to see them brought to life

Im also working on a few journal style books as well. I cant fully classify them as non-fiction but also not fully fiction. Its a mixture of it all but stuck to one theme very dear to me.

And Many many more.

One last thing i feel the need to mention. Growing up i was the best at math and wanted nothing to do with english. So i made the decision to not pay attention in english class and ignore grammar... one day in high school i did a complete 180..

I wanted to write a book and never deal with numbers again. So here i am with a million and four ideas buzzing around. Cant get a grasp on one fully, and i suck at grammar. So I do appologize if my writing hurts your brain cause i cant grammar correctly. I really am. I hate myself for it. Im trying.

Also almost everything I write has something personal in it, be it a part of me or an experience i have been through. I dont write anyway else.

[kissesinthekitchen]

Teeth

Prompt: It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so. 

Smut and fluff. Needy Harry. More than 6,560 words of sub!Harry.

Pairing: Harry x Reader

A/N: I’m really excited about this! This story was written for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge - and my prompt was 9F - Sub!Harry. It really pushed my writing and forced me to write something different and out of my comfort zone. I have so much love for @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays​ and @oh-honey-styles​ for their patience and for putting this event together. These writers have inspired me so much, they literally brought me back to fanfic -after years of writer’s block- and I could not be more thankful. This was my first time taking part in a writing challenge too! I would appreciate any love or feedback this gets. Thank you! xo

His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.

God, you want to wreck him.

It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. 

Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. 

And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so. 

But aside from passes of food and medication through the door of your apartment and fuzzy Facetime calls, he hasn’t seen you. 

It’s been hard. The evening after you first slept together, you were taken away from him - a girl’s trip to Maui, for one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties. You’d given him time, moments tucked away in your hotel room when your mate was gone and you had an hour to yourself. An hour of grinning at him through the face of an unreliable internet connection to tell him that you missed him so bad. Selfies taken hidden in the bathroom. Cheeky voicemails. He’s kept them all.

Then, when your plane had touched down in California, there had been another road bump in your reunion when you’d come back ill. Your achy, trembling voice had croaked into the phone delivering him the bad news. “Harry, I’m sick.” 

You’ve been sick for the last week and a half and it’s been hard to give you your space, Harry will admit to that. But you’re adamant, serious. You remind him that he has rehearsals for tour starting soon and he can’t risk it. 

“Miss you,” he croaks into his phone when you touch down.

“Miss you more,” you tell him back, a cough slicing through your promise. 

“Let me buy you groceries. I can pick up your prescription-”

Harry watches your face soften through the video call, wanting nothing more than to touch your cheek. 

“I’ll pay you back,” you tell him, smiling as if you both don’t know he has a bank account worth millions of dollars. Later, you both stare at each other miserably through the window of your living room window as he places your groceries and medicine on your doormat. He blows you a kiss goodbye before he leaves and you pretend to catch it with your hand. 

But that had been a few days ago and now you’re on your way to his house, caught in Los Angeles traffic but on your way nonetheless. 

He wonders if you’ve thought about it too, thought about him. If you have missed him just as much. He doesn’t feel alone in this feeling, if the look in your eyes as he left your window is enough to tell him, but there’s something else gnawing at him-

Harry is sure he’s in love with you. 

It’s a feeling that kindled inside of him before you slept together, but now it feels more palpable, real. Bigger than himself. The weeks without you have only cemented it for him. He loves you. He’s in love with you. He might have even written a few songs about it already. 

He wants to tell you. He likes the idea of feeling right, but he doesn’t want to wait. He wants to tell you when he feels like he can’t take it anymore, and he knows that feeling is dawning. The words feel like they are bubbling in his chest, nearing the tip of his tongue each time he talks to you. 

You’ve been together five months now. And he knows maybe that’s a bit of a long block of time to get into each other’s pants for some people - god knows he might have wanted to jump your bones earlier than that. 

But time was always in the way, the same way it feels now. A trip to take him across another country away from you. Your job making you stay late or taking you out of state. You’ve done other stuff together before - of course. Hurried handjobs when you were visiting the studio, his fingers tasting you, he might have even gotten his cock in your mouth when he went to visit you at work. But the real getting together, the real sleeping together - had taken five months. And now that he knows what you feel like, what sounds you make, how you look underneath him - Harry can’t think of anything else. It’s the only thing that has carried him through the last few weeks without you when he’s been miserably lonely. His need for you, and yes, his love for you. 

It happened in your bedroom, on the small - full sized bed in your apartment, rather than the massive mattress in his house. But he thinks it was perfect that way. He loves your apartment now, he knows it. He has his favorite mug and you stock a box of his favorite granola on top of your fridge. He names the plants in your living room. (“Bowie,” he points to a colorful succulent. “Obviously.” And then “Freddie” to the pothos sitting on your bookshelf.) And there are photos of you together tacked up with magnets in the kitchen and frames next to your bed. That night you had given him his own toothbrush to keep on the sink in the bathroom next to yours. 

Everything about him seems to ache without you here. His hands feel empty without you against them, music -even, he realizes- does not feel as vibrant without your voice there to sing along with him. 

You’ve kept him close though, and for that he is happy. He muses on this as he finishes some dishes in the kitchen, trying not to glance at the clock again. 

It started with the text messages. Then the photos you sent him from Hawaii. He has to stiffle a grin at the memory - A sex shop your friends had pulled you into a few days into your trip. You’d sent him a photo of a wall of toys - floggers, gags, dildos, chokers, blindfolds. Harry had barked out a laugh at first when he saw the picture unfold in front of his eyes. See anything you like? You’d teased. 

He remembers how he’d been sitting in his living room, the sound of the latest Packers game fading in the background. His ears felt hot as his fingers hovered over the letters on his phone. 

The choker. He’d typed out, teeth gnawing into his bottom lip. Maybe the blindfold too. 

For me or you?

Me. xx

Harry swears he must have felt all the blood rush to his groin when he saw your reply.

They have handcuffs too. 

Your talks and messages had only escalated from there. It was as if you were both daring each other to go further, but instead you were crossing new territory together, hand in hand. You made him feel dizzy with want, the way you were meeting him inch for inch. 

It’s the only reminder that Harry feels like he needs - he can trust you in a way he hasn’t been able to trust anyone before. He finds himself pledging devotion to the intrigue in your eyes, the way you don’t shy away when he teases you back or admits something through the phone. The feeling leaves him breathless, if he’s being honest. Most of all, it makes him miss you even more. 

His skin is buzzing as the minutes crawl by and your arrival gets closer and closer. He can’t stay still. He paces the hall until he sees the text banner on his phone announce you’re arrival. I’m outside. 

Harry’s favorite thing about you is the way you look perfectly at home in his house. Like you’ve alway belonged here. He swears sometimes that he must have dreamt you into life. It’s like you have just always been here. He’s reminded of this when he hears your voice over the security camera  - “It’s meee.” And when he pulls the door open -  

“Baby-” he opens his arms. 

You drop your bags on his doorstep. And you’re grinning as you launch yourself into his arms, your cheek flat against his chest and your nose buried in his neck. “Harry.”

“Oh baby,” he says, his fingers gingerly stroking your cheek, pushing your face up so your foreheads meet. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes are glistening as he presses your lips together. 

The last few weeks feel like a lie of nostalgia. Your memories of him have not done him justice. Not to the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, not to his warmth or his laugh and definitely not to the way he kisses you. 

He smells good, like something crisp and floral - his expensive aftershave and cologne, and something still so distinctly Harry. That’s the part you have missed the most. 

You kiss him with both arms around his neck to pull him down to your height and you don’t stop until his back hits the door, reminding you both that you need a break to breathe. He’s laughing as he grips your waist. 

“Sorry,” you muse, smudging some of the lipstick that you’ve gotten on his mouth and teeth. 

“Don’t be, love. C’mere,” he takes your groceries (you owe him, don’t you?) and bag from you.

You shuffle into the house, checking your keys twice to make sure you locked your car even though Harry laughs and reminds you there’s a gate and a security guard that patrols the neighborhood. 

Harry helps you unpack the groceries, while you work on relearning the map of his kitchen again, pulling drawers and opening cabinets, trying to get acquainted with his space again. He throws on some Fleetwood Mac and The Zombies filter through the space between you as you start dinner. He muses that the song could not be more perfect for the feeling inside his chest. “Should I try to hide, the way I feel inside? My heart for you? Would you say that you love me too? I can tell the way you smile. If I feel that I could be certain then. I would say the things I want to say tonight.”

He stares at you with something that feels like pride, watching the sun filter through the window as you work. He thought -maybe- it might be hard to look you in the eyes or to push the feeling inside him aside but this, it feels easy. Watching you and being together with you in this way. His house, he feels, it finally feels like home now that you’re here. 

The smell of garlic and olive oil begins to fill the kitchen as you prepare the ratatouille and pasta you promised him you would make. You smile when he leans down to rest his chin against your shoulder as you work, sometimes squeezing your side with his hands. 

“Smells good, love,” he says, a watchful eye hanging over your shoulder at the pots and pans on the stove. 

Harry pours wine into glasses for the both of you and you hum your thanks when he pushes the throat of a glass towards you, closing your eyes as he kisses the top of your head.  And when you unwrap the loaves of bread from the store, he laughs and barks out “Could’a told me to make some, love. I used ‘ta work in a bakery!”

You laugh as you tug on his waist, reaching up to catch his lips. “I know. You never make me forget.” 

You make tiramisu later, trying hard not to stare at Harry too much as you work together. His long fingers dipping the ladyfinger cookies into the espresso mix. And you know he catches you blushing when he asks you to taste the whipped cream from his fingers. It has not stopped catching you by surprise, the way he can make you feel beautiful and important and lucky all at once. 

And even though he knows this was the plan for tonight, he can’t help but beam at the promise in your voice when the words come tumbling later. “Brought my bag,” you tell him over your empty plates. “Packed an outfit for tomorrow. Hope you like my pajamas.” You smirk at him. 

“S’the ones with coffee mugs and lattes on them?”

You throw your head back and laugh at the fact that he remembered them. 

“Sexy,” he teases. You catch him leaning against the counter and taking you in. “Got you a toothbrush.”

You smile, memories of last time quickly flooding your thoughts, but don’t take your eyes off the napkin in front of you. You know he’s lost in the same memories. When you’re washing dishes later though, he leaves you to place the fancy -electric, you’ll notice later and expensive- toothbrush sitting on top of your overnight bag. 

After dinner, when you’re both feeling warm and giggly, you pull him back into the sitting area of his bedroom. Harry gulps hard as he watches you insist on lighting some candles, and the smell of teakwood and rosemary fill the room. Watching you makes his stomach clench, this is all he has wanted, craved, needed for the last few weeks. You in his arms and in bed, taking up his space again. 

He’s sitting on the small sofa next to his bed, the enormity of his room could almost beat the entire size of your apartment. But you feel at peace here, in the same way he feels comforted and hidden in your home. He’s more than the expensive, designer clothes in his closet, the guitars that line one wall, the pile of leather bound journals and gold and white accented bathroom. Here, he’s just Harry. Your Harry. 

When he’s finally relaxed, you push some gifts bags into his hands and insist that he unwrap the gifts you got him from Hawaii. There are books, boxes of chocolate, bags of pineapple candy, floral shirts from vintage thrift stores, and a kitschy keychain with hula dancers and his name on it - that looks so hilariously out of place next to the keys for his Mercedes and vintage cars. 

You look warm and inviting as you turn towards him, the candlelight taking your skin glow like amber. Your skin looks kissed by the sun thanks to your trip. And Harry’s suddenly overwhelmed with how he wants nothing more than to kiss you for your thoughtfulness, for the disbelief he feels at having you here, for the feeling bursting in his chest. 

“Got you one more thing,” you tell him as you close the distance between you, reaching around him to place a small gift box in his hand. 

“Another present? Or summat?” he smiles. 

You kiss the side of his face, humming softly in response, stroking the back of his hair and neck. You try to stay composed as Harry’s fingers gingerly pry the lid of the box open. 

The air feels like it has been sucked out of him. He hates that his fingers tremble a little as he takes the collar out of the box. It’s black and thick, feels smooth like leather, with a buckle that slides closed on the side. He swallows hard as his thumb gingerly runs over the loopholes, imagining the way it would feel gripping his throat or how you would look tying it in place - god, help him. 

“Thought we could use it sometime. Doesn’t have to be tonight. You mentioned-”

And then he’s kissing you. Kissing you so fiercely that your mind stumbles before your body can catch up. Both of his hands on your face, knocking the collar down between you. 

It’s what you have both been walking around all night and it feels like the feeling that had been simply growing in his chest is about to burst. His vision feels like it is swimming right now, but your hands on his face are the only thing tethering him to the ground, whatever is growing between you makes him feel like so much more than himself. The feeling in his chest feels bigger than he has words for right now. 

Your eyes search his. “Do you trust me?

“I do. Y’know I do.” 

“Then Harry?”

His pupils are so wide. “Yeah?” he says. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You watch him carefully as he moves to his knees on the floor, idly shifting closer to the bed. When he stills, you reach for the belt he had discarded on the way into his room. Your fingers rubbing against the leather. “This okay?” 

You listen to his sharp intake of his breath, watch the curls at the front of his face fall briefly in his eyes. “Y-yeah.” 

His hands are one of your favorite things about him. Their large, calloused - his fingers long and tapered. You reach down to press a kiss to the cross on his hand and then move to coil the belt so it loops around his wrists, biting into his skin. 

 Realistically, Harry knows he could get out of this, but it’s the fact that he doesn’t that thrills you. He’s patient and pliant beneath your hands, reduced to his knees and shuddering when your touch leaves him. The line of his neck arching as his eyes follow you. He uses his mouth to follow the line of your palm, kissing your skin until you let go. 

He crawls for you - and oh, you love that. The way his back arches, his long legs and knees hitting the floor, his mind unable to grasp what his body can’t right now - he’s so eager to follow where you go, to be with you, to be a part of you. 

“Harry-” you say, sitting down on the mattress and spreading your legs wide. You lean back to rest your weight on your elbows, thighs lazily spread wide so he can rest between them. You shimmy the end of your dress up, loving the way his nostrils flare and his pupils widen, watching your hands - your fingers grazing where he wishes his skin could go too. Have hungered to for days and days. 

“Harry, do you want to taste me?”

“God, love. Please-”

“Say it again.”

“Please?” he begs.

His nose and lips skim the same path your hands followed. His head of full dark curls turning under the hem of your skirt. You’re gracious enough to help make it easier for him by tugging it up and he groans a sound of thanks into your skin with his lips. 

He’s hungry for it. He inhales deeply, licking you through the fabric of your panties in a way that makes you shudder. He’s even more grateful when you take pity on him by raking your nails through his hair and shifting the material down so he can look at you bare. The tug makes his eyes flutter, it feels so good. 

He’s frozen though, stilling as he waits for your instruction, and you gingerly cup the side of his face in thanks. 

“Go ahead,” you whisper, when he’s almost at the point of whimpering. And then he moves forward, making a home between your thighs. 

Last time you did this, you learned that you love when Harry has both his mouth and his fingers inside you - but this is - well it’s lovely. It’s fucking heaven. Watching how desperate he is to get you off, the way he presses all of his face into your cunt - heeding the deepest part of you, where you’re so wet and just as desperate for him. He’s needy, messy with it. His lips and tongue remembering you all over again, his nose smashed against your cunt and the hint of his teeth against your clit - just enough to have you grinding down on him in a way that makes your brain feel fuzzy. 

Feeling the slickness of his tongue as he slides it inside you makes your cunt feel like it’s fluttering around him. Your face pinches every time he comes back to lick you deeper and you listen to the half garbled words that he’s sucking and pleading into your skin. 

“So wet. So fuckin’ wet for me. Tastes so good. Missed ‘yeh so much.” 

Without the help of his hands, Harry uses one long leg to push himself against the length of the bed- trying to be close to you, while also finding some friction against the mattress. He finds no relief, but when he hears you voice gasp out for him, your fingers weaving in his hair - it’s almost better than any vision he had of you these last few weeks. Oh, it’s so much fucking better. 

He’s so greedy for it. He wants to taste you, needs to feel you cum more than he wants it for himself. You can tell by the way he pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to get deeper, like he’s trying to reach inside you and be a part of you. If his hands were free, he would use his fingers to spread you wide and open. To stuff you full. He knows he would tug on your legs, wear your thighs around his neck like a fucking necklace but there’ll be more time for that - another time, another place - right now, he just wants to feel you cum.

“Harry,” you beg him. “Harry. I’m close-” 

He moans when he watches you slide your fingers down to help aid him, his jaw dropping down in awe as you rub your clit. He works hard to sink down and lick around your fingers before dipping inside of you again. 

“You’re gonna make me come. You’re gonna - I’m going to come in your mouth. God, I’m going to come in your mouth-”

He’s lost in it, but it’s when he looks up at you - his big, green eyes against your flushed pussy, that you feel yourself lose it. It’s simultaneously loving and yet so obscene - you can’t bear it. 

You fist your fingers through his hair, shoulders trembling a little off his pillow, your thighs shaking just as hard- and if his hands were free, Harry knows he would be forcing your thighs and your hips down onto the bed. But all he can do is take it now, take it as hard as you are giving it back to him. His face getting wet and messy with it. 

You could scream with how good it feels. And he licks you through it all, only stalling when your nails dig into his head and he feels you shift away from his incessant mouth. “Too sensitive,” you murmur, and Harry finally relents. 

He sits up on his knees, leaning his forehead against your thighs, trying to breathe through his nose. 

“Harry?”

He makes a sound in his throat, still gasping against your thigh. You touch his head, urge him to rest against your thigh and he’s grateful. He feels something hanging off the tip of his tongue-

“Harry. Harry, what’s your color?” Tell me. Where are you?”

“Green,” he groans, nuzzling deeper into your skin. “That was- that was just a lot. But I’m green. So fuckin’ green, love..” 

You giggle at that and when he finally does look up at you, he looks so pleased with himself. When you take his face between your hands, he feels warm against your fingertips, from the pressure of your hips and how deeply he was digging his face between your thighs. His lips and jaw are soaked, glistening with you and you’re more than happy to help clean him up, licking the taste of yourself from his mouth and pressing soft, appreciative kisses against his face. 

When you finally step aside, his eyes follow you. He’s appreciative of the fingers you still have in his hair and the way you use them to steer him up and onto the bed. 

“Harry?” His eyes look drunk as they meet yours.  He’s still kneeling. “Are you with me?”

“Always, love.”

You smile at him, giving him another pat on the head, your fingers running through his matted hair. And he nuzzles deeper into your hand. 

“Breathe, baby. Give me your safeword.”

His mind is swimming. He thinks of your eyes narrowing at him over dinner - a field - the bright painting on the wall behind your head. - Plastic crinkling around the bouquet of flowers he held clenched between his fingers on your very first date. The vase of them you keep on the island in your kitchen and next to your bed- smiling over at him, the smell of coffee drifting, the sun hitting the bare skin of your back, the name he has you saved under in his phone-

“Sunflower,” he says, the smile on his lips lazy and triumphant when it finally comes to him. “Sunflower. Sunflower.” 

You’re beaming as you stare down at him and he feels like he wants to sink into the praise in your eyes. 

“Good,” you tell him. “Good. You’re doing so good, Harry.”

His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.

God, you want to wreck him. 

“M’cock’s hard,” he says, in the same lazy, almost dazed voice. “S’leaking.”

You make work of both your clothes and then unbuckle his pants and take him out and true to his word - he’s hard. So hard. His expression looks pained when you thumb the raspberry tip of his cock, your mouth watering. He’s too sensitive for that right now, but maybe- you think- hope blooms in your chest. In the future. You could use a ring or-

It’s endearing how reactive he is to you. Not only do his eyes always follow you, but it’s as if his skin’s instinct is to follow you too. 

“Harry, I’m going to untie your hands. Would you like that?”

“Yes-Yes Please.” And god his voice breaks twice around your name -you almost want to take pity on him. 

Almost. 

“I’m going to untie them but I want you to listen to me. Listen to me, okay? I want you to raise them above your head, hold onto the headboard. You’re still not going to touch me. Is that understood?”

“Ye-yes,” he stutters out. And oh you love that. Your golden boy, who has had the world at his feet since the beginning - he’s never been denied things. But this, this he’s doing just for you. And for himself.  

He gasps as you work to undress him, pulling his jeans down the length of the bed, then his briefs. You move to straddle his thigh first, leaning down enough to rub yourself against the tiger inked into his skin. At the touch of his thigh against your clit, you moan - and he moans with you - as if he can’t help himself, can’t bear it- feeling you spread open against his skin and being unable to touch you.

“So wet,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ christ. You’re so wet.”

You allow yourself this moment, a few seconds to rub yourself against him like some kind of cat in heat. Using him until you feel more wetness begin to pool on his skin. You note that his arms are straining with the stretch of the angle he has against the headboard, the veins in his arms a flash of trembling light blue as his fingers shake. 

When finally you feel like you’ve had enough to bear, you swing your leg over his hip and draw yourself down to his pelvis. His face is almost flush with your chest, and you can see the restraint he’s trying to give you - the pupils of his eyes are so wide, and he’s biting into his plush bottom lip, trying not to close the distance between you to suck a beautiful, puffy nipple into his mouth or between his teeth - He needs to be good. He needs to prove to you how good he can be. 

You’re more patient and forgiving this time, spitting on his cock and taking him into your hand. You stroke him a few times, letting the tip of him - just the tip- graze inside of you. 

His eyes and forehead crease at your teasing. 

“You’re so big,” you tell him, and his skin flushes beneath the phrase, his hips bucking up to meet you. 

“B-biggest?” he stutters out and you don’t mistake the nervous lilt at the end of his voice for anything but what it is - a need for confirmation. 

“Biggest. Best I’ve ever had,” you affirm. “Harry. Fuck.”

Pride swells in his chest, making him gasp. 

“God, Harry. That first time we...I didn’t think I’d be able to-. It hurt something good the next morning. Felt like I was aching without you there anymore. - Missed you so much. Missed my baby boy, so much.”

He’s rutting up, hips lifting off the mattress and you feel equally pained for him, your cunt miserably fluttering around nothing too. 

“Fuck. Please,” he begs you, the deepness of his voice making you tremble from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “Take me. Take me.”

You relent, letting yourself slide down the length of him - and oh, this is nice. A snug fit. Another memory of him gone unjustified. You can feel him in your belly. His cock is so thick and deep, it’s still new but comforting. Like coming home. 

“Feel good, Harry?”

“Yes! Yes. God. Christ. You feel so bloody good-”

You shift so you’re resting against him, the palms of your hands flat against his chest. - But not moving. 

“Please,” he groans, his jaw straining towards the side of the bed. “Please fuck me, princess.”

“What do you want Harry?” you indulge him. You’ve missed his voice just as much as his touch, and you need to hear him say it outloud. 

“Fuck me till I cry. Fuck me, ‘till I’m done for. Christ.” 

His skin flushes like he’s embarrassed, so you lean down to kiss his jaw and mouth. “I will. I will. I’m going to fuck you, Harry.”

You use your hands for balance as you lift your hips, sliding up and down the length of his cock. Moaning loud and gasping hard when he shifts up to meet you thrust for thrust. 

“H-Harry,” you call him, only continuing when his head shifts up, his eyes peering up to meet you and tell you he’s listening. The green intensity of them makes you clench around him. “What if I tied you up? Would you like that?”

His feet are flat against the bed now, his hips shifting up in response - he doesn’t trust his voice right now. He feels so wrecked. All he can say is your name as he impales you on his cock. 

“Or maybe- maybe we’ll go somewhere and you could wear a collar - your collar - tight enough around your neck. Something to take out, huh? Just between the two of us - so you’ll know you’re mine. And when I’m gone again, you won’t ever have a reason to forget.”

Harry could almost choke on his disbelief. Hope and lust seem to twine together and something that feels like hope has been freed from his chest. Your mouth - it’s every fantasy, every secret he’s had - coming alive, coming to fruition hearing it in your voice. 

“I’m going to come on you, going to come on your prick, baby,” you promise him. “Then-then you can come.”

“Yes,” he sputters out in response. “Yes-yes. Use me. Please. Please, love. It’s all I’ve been able to think about-since you’ve been gone. Wanting to make you come.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice, and you feel yourself grow wet at the sound. He knows he’s safe. He knows he has you. His exhibitions are unraveling like a thread. They have been since that first message you sent him. 

He’s rambling now. “Wanna come too. Wanna shoot it in deep. But-need ‘ta feel you first. Need ‘ta feel you quaking around me-Baby, please-”

His eyes go wild when you press your hand against his throat, small tears slipping down his cheeks. Your red fingernails look beautiful against the paleness of his skin. And his knees lift up in a desperate show to fuck into you harder. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. Fuck please. Please!”

He’s too lost, plummeting into the safety of the haze you have taken him to - he doesn’t notice the way your eyes narrow in surprise as he gasps from between your fingers. Your heart feels too full, like it might smother your rib cage and you let that feeling take you under. He loves you. He loves you. 

Something overtakes you then. A wave of pride, and something territorial. You feel his words sinking into your bones, and you don’t feel afraid. In fact, you feel something like pride and adoration make a home inside your chest. You’re soaring. He loves you. Your teeth sink into the skin between his neck and shoulder and he groans, a heated sound that makes your skin flush, makes you feel impossibly wetter where you’re holding him between your thighs. It’s a mark to match the ones you have left on his left pec and his thighs, the line on his hip, and your handprints around his throat.. And for days to come, beneath the dim candlelight of his bedroom or the sunlight peeking through his bathroom in the morning - he will marvel at them, but now, now he’s too overcome. 

“Harry,” you rake your nails through the back of his head and grab a fistfull of his hair, harsh and tight. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me cum. I want to come for you. You’re so good.”

He chokes as he feels yourself clench around him, swallowing him deep. You’re shaking, tugging his hair, and saying his name - “Harry, you’re perfect. My beautiful-Harry.” And watching you come on his cock, it’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

You kiss him through it all and as you come back down. You’re tired, slick, and still recovering but your hands grasp Harry’s. Your fingers clenched between his long fingers, squeezing tight around his rings and pressing down on his wrists. 

You lean down so your mouth is pressed between the pink wetness of his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. 

“Do you want to come inside me? You can, my sweet- Harry. You can. Only you. Come inside me Harry-.”

He doesn’t need much now. You’re grinding against him, lazy and slow. Licking into his mouth. 

“Come inside you,” he repeats your words, gasping against your face. You feel his arms flexing beneath your touch, his hips pistoning his cock in and out of you. Arousal -both yours and his- dripping between your thighs. It’s a mess, but it’s your mess. “All I want - ‘ta come inside you.”

You press your fingers against his throat again and his eyes roll back into his head again. You push the weight of your hips against his pelvis and then feel it - the first few spurts of his release inside you, warm and comforting-

“Fuck. I’m coming. Y/N. I’m fuck-”

You hold him as it happens, your fingers around his throat only relenting when his hips have stopped stuttering and he’s finally stopped calling your name. 

Spent, you collapse on him. Tapping his hands and wrists and loosening them. - “You can touch me. Harry- you can touch me.”

You stay with him for a long moment, it’s a space of time you both need. He’s coming down from where you took him so high, and you need to feel grounded, tethered next to him in every way you can right now. The bites and marks you’ve left on him pulse and throb, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire. He aches in the best way possible. He feels each throb like an ache under the intensity of a magnifying glass.

Your hair acts like a curtain over both of you as you plant soft, wet kisses over his neck, his temple, his face. Kissing away his tears. Your fingernails tracing over the tattoos on his stomach and chest as you tell him how well he did, how good, how hard he made you come. It makes him feel looked after, cherished, adored.

Your skin is a warm and comforting weight against his back, until he feels like he’s floated down again, his feet firmly planted.

It’s only when you’re sure he’s stopped trembling, and his heartbeat has slowed beneath the palm of your hand, that you break the surface of this bubble you’ve created together- 

“Harry?” you call to him. 

“Mmm,” he grunts. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fuckin’ perfect,” he says. “Love?”

“S’okay if I...I’ll be right back. Need to get us both cleaned up, babe.”

“I’ll-” he starts, and you can almost see his tall frame trying to lift from the  bed. 

“You don’t have to do anything, beautiful,” one of your hands comes up to press him back down against the mattress. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, handsome.” You press a wet kiss to his head again to soothe him and laugh as he makes a joke - “Think ya properly fucked my brains out. Can’t move, love.”

You walk to the bathroom on trembling legs and feet, and retrieve a wet washcloth to clean both of you up, only pausing to smile faintly at your reflection in the mirror - you look disheveled and happy. You hurry to grab a water bottle from the fridge and then patter back to Harry’s room and make him take a few sips from it. He stares up at you from beneath the throat of the bottle and you try to ignore the way you feel yourself flush beneath the awe in his eyes. 

Only after you’ve pulled a clean pair of underwear on him, do you join him on the mattress again. You crawl onto the bed knees first, and Harry’s breathing slows as he feels you tug him towards you, your face pressed between both of his broad shoulder blades. 

You listen to the heavy thud of his heartbeat through his back. 

“I love you too,” you tell him quietly, finally. “Love you too.”

He makes a muffled sound, and then though he feels heavy and his body protests against the movement, he turns in your embrace so he can look in your eyes. 

“Heard that, did you?” he tries to laugh. But you feel worry cementing itself in your heart when he doesn’t look up to meet your eyes. 

“Don’t have to say it back, y’know?” he finally says. “Don’t have to say it just because I did. Don’t have to know what to do with it. You can have it- you can have me either way.”

You lean up a little to brush your hands through his hair, and so he can tilt his head up to meet you. The edge of his jaw against the cusp of your breasts, the pink of his mouth sitting so pretty against your chest, his eyes half lidded and still so fucked out. You wonder if he grasps exactly what he’s telling you. 

“I know I love you. And I know I missed you so much, Harry. I want to take care of you.”

His heart thrills at what that could mean. “Want ‘ta take care of you too. Want to make you feel good.”

“You do. You’re the best. I love you and,” you smile a little, fingers brushing over the bite you left on his neck. “You’re mine.”

He laughs a little, drawing a glance at the mark too. His big hand closing over yours. “I love you too. Been wanting to say it for a long time.”

“I’m glad you did right now.” You smile at him, and the anxiety he was feeling seems to falter. He smiles back.

“Did you mean what you were saying?” Harry says, reaching for you even as sleep looms over the edge of his thoughts. “About the choker and the ring and summat?”

“’Course, whatever you want,” you smile at him above the duvet pulled up over both of your shoulders. “Trust me?”

“Know I do,” he smiles, the dimple in his cheek deepening. 

Your face softens as you reach up to trace it with your fingers. “I’m many things, Harry Styles, but I’m not a liar,” you laugh. 

“Know you are,” he laughs back, the gravely sound of it making you feel light and wonderful. Bright and adored. “First and foremost though, you’re my sunflower.”

You seem to beam under the look in his eyes. You pull him close, tucking yourself under his chin, and kissing one of the sparrows on his chest. “I am,” you tell him. “I am.” 

A/N: If you’re wondering, yes, the story and title were both inspired by the song of the same name by 5SOS.

Thank you for reading! Please Like or Reblog and feel free to follow me to keep up with more stories. I’d love to have you here. <3 Or let me know what you think!

[roseofithaca]

The problem with making writing and fandom your personality for over a year to escape real world trauma is that when that hyperfix dies and everyone else moves on you basically feel like you have no reason to exist. So you binge new media, trying so desperately to find that new muse, that new escapism but everything just seems to have no flavor because you invested too much in that previous thing and you don't choose obsessions, they choose you. You don't choose fandoms, you fall in love with something and if you're very lucky it brings you close to others, but that's what it is. Luck. People say to me "if you love writing so much, just do original stuff." - they have no clue what I'm talking about. Not a jot.

I'm gonna make a serious effort not to log on here again because each time I do I feel the Hell of this site become more literal, it's a painful reminder of something which once brought me so much joy and now can't offer me that spark to keep going. And I feel like I'm just becoming some zombie checking my notes for...what? A few likes a day? This isn't even social media anymore, there is no social aspect, there's very little media that gives me a buzz. I'm just numb. I've always been numb in real life but this was somewhere I could come to feel something and I just don't anymore.

[lollybliz]

bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by  Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights.  Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm.  “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

[willow-salix]

Fluffember Prompt: Toy

Big massive thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for jumping in and writing this for me while I rest.

Day 20 of isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

 Kayo here... I was “convinced” to write this update by Scott...

 “Witchy has never skipped a day before in her isolation updates. We can’t let her down when she’s sick and needs her rest,” he said, using the pity card like one waves a white flag around.

“Then why don’t you write it? You’re her best friend,” I protested.

I’m not a writer. I don’t have Gordon’s knack for storytelling and exaggeration, or Alan’s naivete about life that makes his stories amusing. Scott is used to telling his brothers bedtime stories from when they were younger. Let him do it.

“I have to do office stuff...”

And then, he dared. He smiled his dimpled smile that no one on Earth and beyond can resist, except perhaps for Alan’s zombies and dead people.

“Office stuff.” I tried to sound unimpressed but to my greatest shame, I’m not impervious to the Dimple King’s magical powers and my resolve was already fading. I can’t say I’m very proud of that.

“I can’t postpone it... Please?”

He knows, the traitor. He fluttered his eyelashes, putting damsels in distress to shame and waited.

I do like Witchy and I do want to help her because she’s taking the burden of those idiots off of me when she’s here, so I caved in... I rolled my eyes at him and made sure my face showed how annoyed at him I was. “Fine, but you owe me now.”

“Deal,” he said. We shook hands and he sauntered away toward his office.

***

 Witchy was upstairs, resting (or trying to) and the others were relatively calm in the lounge, which is always a little suspicious. Personally, I would have gone to the training room to lift some weights or do a few fan forms, but I felt I shouldn’t wander off too far in case someone needed a reminder not to go and bother her. I was pondering about catching up on my reading or doing some office work when Virgil arrived from the hangars holding a flat box. “I was doing some cleaning and found a bin of old toys… Remember that game, John?” he asked, putting the box on the lounge table.

The box was faded and something told me that it was old enough to be not only from when the boys were kids and before I arrived on the island, but before that when Jeff was young. Why he kept some of those things, I had no idea. The garish yellow colour was an assault to the eyes in itself, and the silly-looking man pictured there didn’t improve things, nor were the bold red letters forming the word Operation.

John glanced up from his tablet and smiled. “Alan used to stick the tweezers on the edge and let the buzzer ring to no end until dad stopped him and gave him something else to do,” he said.

“Gordon used to tap rhythms and songs with the tweezers,” Virgil added.

“Did Jeff stop him and give him something else to do?” I asked.

“He’d wait for dad to be off with Alan to do it.”

“Then Scott would slap him upside the head,” John finished.

I barely managed not to roll my eyes. I can’t say I was surprised.

Alan opened the box and peered inside. “It requires batteries,” he commented, taking everything out.

Virgil went to fetch some in Jeff’s desk.

“Are you sure about this?” John asked.

Virgil shrugged. “It’s one way to pass time.” He smiled. “Afraid you lost your touch?”

“Not at all. I’m trying to spare you from a crushing defeat.”

All Tracys are competitive. All of them. Even quiet, suspectless John.

“Did I hear crushing defeat? I’m here for the show,” Gordon exclaimed, appearing from nowhere and eying the game on the table. “Wanna play, Kayo?”

I laughed. “No. I’ll take a seat in the peanut gallery,” I said, settling down in my usual launch seat. “I can handle the bank if you want.”

Let them ridicule themselves. I took the pile of false notes from him and Virgil distributed the specialist cards between the four brothers.

“So how do you play?” Alan asked.

“You pick a card and try to remove the part indicated on it. If you succeed, Kayo will pay you. If you fail, whoever has the specialist card can have a go and earn twice the amount if he succeeds. Whoever has the most money at the end wins.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

I saw the exchange between Virgil and Gordon and I think John’s mouth quirked. Nothing was simple with them. Not even children’s games. Why do you think I was sitting away from them?

They let Alan have a go at first. He picked Water on the Knee and successfully removed the plastic bucket. It was handed to me so that I could pay accordingly. John picked the Wish Bone, but as he positioned his hand over the board, Gordon leaned over and began singing close to his brother’s ear to try and distract him. John declared his tactic amateurish and also succeeded.

Apparently, the unspoken rules Tracy version of the game was to try and distract whoever was playing so that they failed. This included John shouting “Look out!” at Gordon at the last moment, Gordon imitating the buzzer sound each time Virgil approached the tweezers from the board, Alan—who caught on very quickly—inching his fingers close to the board as if he was going to rattle it when John had another go and Virgil fully integrating his youngest brother to the game by whispering something to him, which earned him a reply that I can’t write here.

The rowdy game was fully underway when Scott stepped into the lounge. “What are you guys doing? I can hear you all the way from the office,” he complained.

“We’re playing Operation,” Alan replied.

Scott seemed surprised. “I didn’t even know we still had that. I thought you took it apart when you were ten to see how it worked, Virg?”

“And put it back together. Wasn’t that hard.”

“Want to join us?” Alan invited him.

Scott seemed to hesitate. “I still have things to do and I should go back.”

I had to bite my lip to hold back my laughter when someone—and I think it was Virgil!—clucked like a chicken. And as expected, Scott took the bait. He sat down next to John while I was handed back all of the money and the specialist cards were gathered and redistributed.

“Hey, you can’t reset it, I was winning!” Gordon protested.

“You were not. I had $100 more than you,” Alan stated.

Gordon huffed, put the pieces back inside their respective spots, then couldn’t resist playing “Shave and a Haircut” with the buzzer. Scott’s reaction was instantaneous and he reached out to slap the back of his brother’s head twice without even missing a beat.

They all played a first round with varying degrees of success. Watching them play was more entertaining than actually playing. I began mentally assigning scores to their distraction tactics.

When it was his turn, Scott picked Writer’s cramp. The irony of the situation was not lost on me and I fought my better judgement for a whole two seconds before I decided to make a move—I am a Tracy at heart after all... I carefully shifted my weight as he concentrated and extended my arm... then at the last moment, I poked his armpit in that one location I know will tickle him then hurried to sit back straight with my bank notes in my hand and an innocent expression on my face.

He squawked like an offended seagull, hit the side of the game and made it buzz, then looked at the nearest brother accusingly. When said brother stopped laughing long enough to say it wasn’t him, he directed his suspicious eyes at me and I’m rather proud to say that I could keep a straight face and raised an eyebrow at him in return.

John was next. He picked a card... the bread basket. He took the tweezers from Scott’s hand and didn’t even try to be careful and made the game buzz in less than a second.

“HA!” Alan hooted out.

“You didn’t have to play if you didn’t want to anymore,” Virgil side-whispered to him.”

“Oh no, I’m playing,” he assured him, then took one of the specialist cards in front of him and flicked it between his long fingers before handing it to me.

He manoeuvred the tweezers with surgical precision, ignoring Gordon’s heavy breathing in his ear, and dropped the plastic slice of bread into my hand. “I believe that is $2000,” he said with a smug smile.

“Show off,” Virgil muttered good-naturedly while I counted the paper slips and gave them to John.

“My turn,” Gordon said, reaching for a card, “It says... butterflies in the stomach.”

The four others froze more or less visibly and Scott gave me a quick side-eye. He remembered the Venom incident, my aversion for the fluttery little creeps and how I made him pay for laughing at me. I ignored him and winked at Gordon. Surprisingly, he had been my hero at the time and I’ll never forget that. But that’s a story for another time.

Gordon extracted the item from the board without touching the edges. “Once again, I prevailed,” he claimed triumphantly, flicking the plastic butterfly in the air and catching it a few times.

I handed him two $100 notes and of course, Gordon being Gordon tried to take them while the game piece was still in the air. He failed, the plastic butterfly ricocheted off his elbow and landed somewhere under the furniture.

Little items like that never land where you expect them, especially on carpet, especially when bouncing off sharp Tracy elbows (I think we can all agree that they are not lumpy, Lady Penelope’s flirting techniques need a little improvement). I refused to join in on the search because, of course, too many people were there already and I was more helpful sitting in my seat with my legs crossed out of the way.

Gordon looked under the table, then moved on to the little shelf where my father’s bonsai tree and Lady Penelope’s communicator picture are located. He peered underneath, sneezed loudly, then backtracked in horror.

Screeching like a banshee, he rushed out of the seating area and fled toward the kitchen, nearly knocking over poor Witchy who stood at the top of the stairs.

“I go fight a lurgy for an hour, take a moment to get something to drink and this is what I come back to?” she said, visibly unimpressed by the sight of four Tracy butts in the air around the lounge table as they scanned the carpet.

I had to disagree with her on that, it was a rather interesting sight.

“Why is he even screaming like that, he sounds like he’s seen a ghost?” Gordon could be heard sneezing somewhere in the background and she rolled her eyes.

She strode to where he had been crouching and bent down and sighed. “Just as I thought... Scott, you forgot to close the office door again,” she said, reaching out and picking up Buddy the bearded dragon from his hiding spot before he scampered away.

She removed the plastic butterfly from his mouth and cradled him close. “I don’t want a repeat of last time when I had to get him in the vent—”

Witchy’s eagle eye spotted the twitch in John’s face instantly and he held her gaze, doing his own version of the Tracy smile to placate her. They did that fascinating wordless exchange established couples seem to be able to do for a moment and then, she then turned to me, noticed the fake bank notes in my hands and threw me a disappointed: “You’re encouraging them?”

I immediately pointed at John to defend myself. “He’s winning,” I said.

“If I draw brain freeze, I’ll be able to get you a lifetime supply of socks that don’t roll down. Think about it,” he deadpanned.

She looked at us as if we had lost our minds—she might be right—then stormed off with the dragon.

I guess I should go check on Gordon now.  And probably make a new batch of soup as a peace offering.

Author’s note: Shave and a Haircut is what “that knock on the door” is called.

[mtgbracket]

Tiebreaker - Mazirek, Kraul Death Priest vs Polukranos, Unchained

Hi folks!  Yesterday, these two cards both got 177 votes in Batch 2.3, leading to a tie.  I don’t vote in the polls so that I can be the tiebreaking vote when it’s needed.  So here I am doing that.

I am going to be using the same format as I did for the ties in the original Magic Bracket - see this old post for an example.  Essentially I will provide a written analysis on each card over five categories, and then finish with scores.  If the scores also tie then my personal favourite gets the nod.  The categories are:

 - Quality of design, scored out of 10  - Power level, scored out of 5 (overpowered cards will score lower)  - Flavour, scored out of 5  - Art, scored out of 5 (combined across multiple arts if there are any)  - Place in Magic history, scored out of 5

Let’s get stuck in.

Mazirek, Kraul Death Priest

Design

Fittingly for a death priest, Mazirek cares about death - specifically, he’s one of the relatively few cards that care about sacrificing.  While we’re more used to seeing this on black-red cards in recent years, Mazirek was printed in Commander 2015 and the sacrifice-matters element is perfectly at home in black.  While it doesn’t feel green, the reward you get - +1/+1 counters on all your creatures - certainly does, and Mazirek has a solidly black-green feel as a result.  And by both caring about death and growth/life, he also feels specifically Golgari - which matters as the Kraul are a Golgari insect group.  Sacrifice-matters probably does play better in black-red (where red’s ability to sacrifice its own stuff lines up nicely), but it’s not massively out of place here.

Having flying (which makes sense for an Insect) but a measly 2/2 body for 5 also guides the player to imagining growing him into a massive threat through adding lots of sacrifice effects.  The design is also kept light by not having Mazirek provide any inherent way of sacrificing things or making sacrifices happen - the player has to provide their own.  This is pretty common for these kinds of designs, but is good because it means the rewards can be a bit juicier, as the player has to provide a sacrifice payoff, an enabler, and likely some fodder - although making your opponent sacrifice things also works!

One ding against the sacrifice trigger is that it does require players to handle a small bit of rules knowledge - specifically, identifying the “sacrifice” keyword action and understand which things are and aren’t sacrifices.  And effects that make temporary tokens are annoyingly inconsistent about whether the tokens are exiled or sacrificed, which sets up a bit of a reading debt.

Power level

Fittingly for a card from a Commander precon, Mazirek is pretty potent.  He can grow your team quite substantially with a few triggers, even if he doesn’t provide you an in-built way of getting them, and promises unbounded payoff.  Combined with a sacrifice outlet and something with Persist can even make infinite combos, which is pretty compelling as a power option.  Mazirek is technically legal in Eternal formats, but isn’t up to grade there - but that’s not a mark down on him as few cards are.

Mazirek ranks #278 on EDHREC, as the Commander of 424 decks, and as a card appears in 4% of decks on the platform.  This indicates a potent and popular Commander card.

Flavour

Mazirek, as mentioned above, is the leader of the Kraul, the Golgari insect race.  His card name certainly conjures up a lot of what’s going on with him - “Death Priest” is quite a title, and gets across both the death-focused aspect of the Golgari as well as the Kraul’s society - Mazirek was the leader of the Kraul race until his death in the War of the Spark storyline.  His name is also fun to say - and feels quite insectile.  It’s a shame that the “priest” title, which feels more like a Cleric, is not matched with his typeline, where he is a Shaman.  There are plenty of green and even black-green Clerics, so this does feel like a minor ding.

Mazirek’s flavour text reinforces the “insect” thing nicely, with talks of clicks and buzz, and the very Metal “incarnation of decay”.  Overall the picture of a rotten, death-feeding entity is well sold.  Being empowered by death is a flavourful concept, but “sacrificing” specifically is hard to convey as a flavourful concept - it’s a bit too mechanical.

Art

Mathias Kollros’s piece revels in the black-green colour palette we’d expect from a Golgari legend, and shows the central figure suggestively in dark greens and yellow highlights, but with the details hidden by strong green-white backlighting.  The posing emphasises the many additional limbs that Mazirek has over a humanoid figure, with his wings and extra legs, as well as his elevated position.  Some drippy, slimy looking moss decorates his podium and the darker edges of the piece give us the sense that we’re in the Kraul’s tunnels.  After adjusting to the main image we also see the eggs at the edges of the image, adding to the insect / creepy vibe for an overall very effective piece.

Note that the colour palette appears to have been significantly darkened from the original printing for the later Double Masters version for no clear reason.  I think the original printing is the superior.

Place in Magic history

Other than a supporting role in the Ravnica / War of the Spark storyline, Mazirek doesn’t have much to write home about here - no particularly unique or interesting things about him.

Polukranos, Unchained

Design

From this year’s Theros: Beyond Death, we have the zombified version of Polukranos.  Originally gaining infamy as Polukranos, World Eater, this hydra is now presented in a black-tinged version - our second black-green card.  He starts out with square stats as a very undercosted-seeming 4-mana 6/6, before later promising to escape as a 6-mana 12/12.  The “permanent damage” drawback here is something originally seen on Judgment’s Phantom creatures, which only ever lost one counter per instance of damage; the counters-per-damage version was premiered on M11′s Protean Hydra as a “heads” metaphor, and was also seen on Ugin’s Conjurant.  Conjurant and Polukranos share an important improvement - they only apply the replacement effect while they actually have a +1/+1 counter, which stops them becoming invincible if you raise their toughness some other way.

As well as being a big reservoir of power and toughness, this newer version of Polukranos connects mechanically to the original by including a fight ability - and a very rare repeatable one at that.  This opens up some interesting options whereby if Polukranos has shrunk too much, you can fight him off in order to have him die and then be able to escape and reset him with his final Escape ability.  Polukranos has the highest card-cost for any Escape card, needing six other cards to come back - justified by his massive size upgrade when you do so.

The design overall hits some of the right notes for the established Polukranos power set - beefy and activated-ability-fighting - while adding some interesting play patterns with the Escape mechanic.  It doesn’t do a great job of feeling green-black to me instead of just green however - monogreen has Escape cards and that’s all that black is really bringing to this package other than a generic multicolour power injection and the Zombie creature type.  And the design is very busy, with a lot of text and moving parts that is a bit confusing to play.

Power level

While being a Limited powerhouse, Polukranos hasn’t managed to get anywhere in general constructed thanks to competing for resources with the far superior Uro, Titan of Nature’s Wrath, which is commonly played with black.

In Commander, EDHREC shows Polukranos, Unchained at rank #494 as a Commander of 170 decks, and appearing in 3% of decks.  The combo with Vigor is particularly nice - you can choose to apply Vigor’s replacement effect instead of Polukranos’s own one and have him grow every time he fights instead of shrinking!

Flavour

The name is straightforward enough - and connects with the art - but not inspired.  The lengthy rules text doesn’t even leave room for Escape reminder text, let alone flavour text.  The character of Polukranos is of a dangerous monster that Elspeth had to defeat in the original Theros storyline as the champion of Heliod, but the new version is just “that same guy from before, only he escaped from the Underworld”.

Art

Chris Rahn is one of Magic’s most notable current artists, with a great ability to render detailed fantasy images with beautiful details.  The purple-and-grayish hues of the underworld are used here to show the location, and nicely we see the upper purple head of Polukranos blending with the beautiful night sky.

And those purple heads are shown coming from the same root - I believe they are actually regrowing at the time of the art!  There are a lot of nice visual indicators of this - a pinkish glow showing where the stump was, the purplish colour of the two new heads, and the fact that those are a little smaller than the other four.  The new heads both have collars on so I imagine these are magical collars designed for a hydra - but the art also shows that the chains weren’t strong enough, as the name tells us.  A close look shows a loose chain breaking a statue in the foreground - and the other foreground figures help sell the size of the monstrous creature in front of us.  The overall mood is “Oh s***, the monster has got loose!”.

Place in Magic history

We have a minor storyline character here and the card has no particular resonance or important part to play, so not looking at a whole lot here.

Final verdict

Mazirek, Kraul Death Priest

Design - 7/10 Power level - 4/5 Flavour - 3/5 Art - 5/5 Place in Magic history - 2/5 TOTAL - 21/30

Polukranos, Unchained

Design - 6/10 Power level - 3/5 Flavour - 2/5 Art - 4/5 Place in Magic history - 2/5 TOTAL - 17/30

Good luck to Mazirek, Kraul Death Priest in Round 3!