#a little bit of crack with a little bit of chaos and romance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohmynabiii · 2 months ago

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𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

switch!reader x dom!hyunjin

"The room thrummed with the sounds of the after-party, but none of it reached you or Hyunjin. Ever since you arrived at the premiere’s after-party, something electric had crackled between you, something raw and hungry. He stood across the room, mingling with the others, his features perfect under the dim, atmospheric lighting. The black tailored suit hugged his body just right, the slim cut highlighting his lean figure, while his hair framed his face with just the right amount of effortlessness. From the moment you entered the room, your golden dress flowing behind you, his eyes hadn’t left you."

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𝐜𝐰 : cunnilingus/female oral sex, love bites, hickies, teasing

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, smut MDNI

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4.2k

𝐚𝐧: this is definitely one of my favorite skz fic so far, hope you enjoy !! please don't hesitate to lmk what you think :)

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You could feel the weight of his gaze no matter where you were, like a touch that wasn’t quite there but burned just the same. Even through the chaos of clinking glasses and the endless hum of conversation, there was something only the two of you shared. His stare was heavy, consuming. It followed the curve of your body, lingering on the way the fabric clung to your hips, the delicate arch of your back. Every move you made seemed to send a shiver through him, his need becoming more palpable with each passing second.

Hyunjin had always been good at keeping himself composed in public. He could flash a smile and charm anyone in the room, hiding the darker, more intense parts of himself beneath a carefully curated exterior. But tonight, his mask was slipping. Every time you met his gaze, the hunger in his eyes seemed to grow deeper, more desperate. His fingers flexed at his side, his jaw tightened as if holding back the urge to come over and claim you right there in front of everyone.

You had to admit, you loved having this effect on him. The way you could make his breath hitch with just a look, the way his entire demeanor shifted when you so much as brushed past him. It was a silent game, one you both knew well. And tonight, you were playing it to perfection.

The golden dress you wore felt like liquid silk against your skin, the shimmering fabric catching the light with every movement. You had chosen it deliberately, knowing how much he loved the way you looked in gold. The neckline dipped just low enough to be daring, but not scandalous—though you knew it was enough to keep his eyes glued to you. And every time you crossed paths with him, you made sure to let him see just enough to drive him wild.

When you first brushed past him, it was subtle—your hand grazing his arm, a fleeting touch that left his skin tingling. You didn’t stop to look at him, but you could feel the tension in his body as you passed, could hear the subtle catch in his breath. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it thrilled you to watch him unravel, bit by bit.

From across the room, you’d give him those teasing, knowing smiles—the ones that sent his mind spiraling. Every time you caught his eye, the corner of your lips would curl just slightly, the glint in your eyes daring him to lose control. You leaned against the bar at one point, deliberately arching your back so he had a perfect view of the curve of your spine, the way the dress clung to your body like a second skin. You knew he was watching, could feel the heat of his gaze like a brand.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, though. It was the small things—the subtle tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed when you were close, the way he was always just a little too quick to glance away when someone else noticed his distraction. He was trying so hard to keep his composure, but you could see the cracks forming, the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

You walked past him again, this time closer, your shoulder brushing his arm as you whispered, “Enjoying the view?” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but the way his breath hitched told you everything you needed to know.

He didn’t respond at first, just stared at you with darkened eyes, his lips parted slightly as if trying to find the right words. You didn’t wait for an answer, though. Instead, you threw him one last teasing smile and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving him standing there, fists clenched, his desire written all over his face.

The game continued throughout the night, the tension between you building with every passing moment. Every glance, every subtle touch, was like adding kindling to a fire that was already burning hot. You could feel it. It was intoxicating, knowing you had this much power over him, knowing how badly he wanted you and how much he was holding himself back.

But you weren’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

The party was lively, the conversations flowing freely around you, but for you, there was only one focus. You walked past him again, trailing your fingers lightly across the back of his hand, a fleeting touch that left him visibly breathless. His jaw clenched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes—the need to maintain control, to keep up the pretense of normalcy, even as his desire threatened to consume him.

You couldn’t resist the urge to push him just a little further.

When the crowd shifted, and the paparazzi and press were distracted with some other celebrity, you made your move. You crossed the room, your golden dress flowing elegantly with each step, and stood beside him. Close enough for him to feel your presence, but still just out of reach. You leaned in, pretending to adjust something on your dress, your lips just inches from his ear.

"Patience," you whispered, the single word laced with playful defiance.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched audibly, his eyes narrowing as they met yours. His control was slipping, and you could see it in the way his chest rose and fell just a little faster, the way his hand twitched as if fighting the urge to reach out and pull you to him. But he didn’t. Not yet. Instead, he swallowed hard, his voice low and strained as he whispered back, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You smirked, your fingers lightly grazing his wrist as you whispered, “Maybe.”

The rest of the room seemed to blur into the background, the noise and the people fading away as the tension between you reached its breaking point. You could feel the pull between you, like a live wire crackling with electricity. And you knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Finally, when the moment came, he didn’t hesitate.

It was quick and subtle—a break in the crowd, the cameras turned away for just a moment. His hand found yours, fingers curling around your wrist with a firm, unspoken promise. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes told you everything: he was done waiting.

Hyunjin led you through the dimly lit hallway, the music from the party growing softer behind you as he guided you toward his dressing room. His grip was strong, but not rough, his touch filled with a quiet urgency that made your heart race. The anticipation between you was palpable, each step drawing you closer to what you both had been craving all night.

The door to his dressing room clicked shut behind you, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist.

The second you were alone, everything changed. The careful control he had maintained throughout the night shattered, replaced by something raw and primal. His hands were on you in an instant, sliding over your waist, his touch possessive and urgent. His breath was hot against your skin, ragged and uneven as he pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?” His voice was low, rough with need, his eyes dark and intense as they searched yours.

You smiled, deliberately slow, your fingers trailing up the front of his chest as you felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Maybe,” you teased, your voice soft and playful, though you could feel your own pulse quickening.

Before you could say more, his lips crashed against yours, capturing them in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate, as if he had been holding back for far too long and could no longer contain himself. His hands roamed your body with a frantic need, pulling you closer, pressing you against him as his lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss with each second.

His hands slid to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips as if anchoring himself to you. His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, where he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. Each kiss was rougher than the last, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving marks in his wake. You gasped when he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, your hands tightening in his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and shaky as he pressed a soft kiss just below your ear. “I’ve wanted you all night. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” The way he looked at you, filled with a desperate yearning, made your heart race.

“I was just trying to have a little fun,” you replied coyly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you arched into him.

His eyes darkened even more at your teasing words, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned in. “Oh, so that’s what you call this, fun,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “You’ve been driving me insane all night.” He dipped down to your collarbone, pressing his lips against the sensitive flesh with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I can’t get enough of you, you know that?” His voice was thick with desire, a promise laced within his words. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Your gaze is drawn to the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of his tailored suit pants, a potent testament to his desire that sends a thrill coursing through you. A teasing smile curves your lips as you lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whisper, “I have some idea…”

In a heartbeat, he shoves you against the vanity, the cool surface biting into your skin, a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His hands grip your waist, anchoring you in place as he leans in, his lips brushing against your neck before trailing down to your collarbone. Each kiss is both urgent and tender, his mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin as if he were savoring a fine delicacy. The sensations ignite delicious shivers that dance across your body, stoking the simmering fire within you.

With a swift, possessive motion, he turns you around, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently pulling it aside to reveal the soft curve of your back. The air thickens with tension, the silence amplifying every sound as his warm breath caresses your skin. He kisses a slow, deliberate path down your spine, each touch igniting a spark that pulls you closer to the precipice of your desires.

As he reaches the zipper of your dress, he undresses you with his teeth, his lips grazing the fabric with tantalizing precision. The way he nips gently at the material, tugging it down with both skill and hunger, sends your heart racing faster than you thought possible. The anticipation coils tight within you, your breath hitching as the fabric slips down your body, leaving your skin exposed to his fervent attention.

His tongue glides along the delicate line of your spine, trailing warmth that ignites a feverish heat throughout your body. You instinctively arch into him, feeling his presence envelop you as he plants soft love bites along the curve of your ass. Each mark sends waves of pleasure through you, intensifying the need that swirls between you. You can feel his smile against your skin, the satisfaction of marking you evident in the way he savors every inch, his grip on your hips both possessive and passionate.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with longing, sending fresh shivers racing down your spine as his lips roam across your skin. His hands explore the soft curves of your body, fingers trailing over your thighs and back as if he is memorizing every contour, every dip and curve that belongs to him. The blend of his gentle touches and the raw urgency of his kisses sends your head spinning, your heart pounding with anticipation.

As he presses closer, the heat radiating from his body melds with the desire surging through your body, creating an electric tension that fills the air. The weight of his gaze is intense and hungry, like a flame fueling the fire within you, pushing you to surrender completely to the passion that pulses between you.

You feel him pull away momentarily, the sudden absence of his warmth sending a jolt of disappointment through you. But it’s quickly replaced by a gasp as you feel the hot, thick stripe of his tongue glide over your clothed folds. The contact is electrifying, and you can’t help but moan at the delicious sensation, arching your back into his touch. “Fuck, Hyunjin,” you breathe, the heat pooling deep within you.

But he pulls away again, leaving you with an annoyed grunt that mingles frustration and desperation. It’s as if he relishes the power he has over you, and before you can fully process the loss, he dives back in, trailing heated kisses along the back of your thigh. His lips are soft yet demanding, kissing a path that sends tingling sensations racing through you. Each kiss is deliberate, almost worshipful, as he takes his time, savoring every inch of your skin. You can feel the warmth of his mouth leaving lingering heat in its wake, igniting your senses.

He kisses the sensitive skin just above your knee, biting gently before sucking, creating a mark that will serve as a reminder of this moment. You’re overwhelmed, breath hitching as he moves further up your thigh, his mouth trailing soft, lingering kisses that seem to melt into your very core. The sensation is intoxicating, a mix of urgency and tender adoration that makes you tremble with need.

As he lavishes attention on your left thigh, he becomes more fervent, leaving behind a flurry of hickeys—dark red and pink spots blooming beneath his teasing mouth. Each one feels like a brand, a claim he’s making on you, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. His kisses are deep and possessive, punctuated by gentle bites that send jolts of pleasure shooting through your veins. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building within you as he teases and torments, drawing you closer to the brink of madness.

When he finally finishes with your left thigh, he leans in to stripe a slow, deliberate lick just beside your clit, and your breath hitches as you feel the heat radiating from his mouth. His breath is hot against your most sensitive spot, and you groan, a mixture of annoyance and need flooding your system. “You’re driving me crazy,” you whimper, the words barely escaping as desire envelops you like a warm blanket.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your body and sending ripples of pleasure coursing through you, but it only ignites your hunger further. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with seduction, and you can’t help but regret the way you toyed with him earlier in the night. The tide of need surging within you is overwhelming, and every fiber of your being craves him.

With tantalizing slowness, he eases his attention to your other thigh, his lips brushing over the skin with feather-light kisses, sending shivers of anticipation rippling through you. He plants soft kisses along your ass as he glides past, his mouth warm and inviting. As he shifts his focus, you can feel the intensity of his desire, a palpable energy that heightens your own.

He begins to explore your other thigh, his mouth creating a trail of heated kisses that bloom into marks like the ones on the other side. His lips dance over your skin, each press of his mouth igniting fresh waves of desire. He bites gently, leaving behind an array of hickeys, the combination of pain and pleasure making you gasp. You can feel the pressure building within you as he laps at your skin, his tongue warm and teasing.

“Hyunjin,” you moan, frustration spilling over in your voice as he draws out the moment, taking his time to savor every inch of your thighs. You’re dripping through your underwear now, the damp fabric clinging to you as you let out soft, frustrated sighs and groans, your body begging for more.

He continues his relentless assault, alternating between teasing kisses and gentle bites, his mouth working its magic, leaving behind marks that tell the world who you belong to. The sensations are overwhelming, a dizzying mix of pleasure and impatience as he makes his way back up your thigh, his tongue swirling against your skin with a deliberate slowness that drives you wild.

You’re shaking with need, every touch igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and the sounds of your breathy whimpers fill the room, mixing with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth against your skin.

But just as the anticipation reaches a boiling point, and you start to think he has no intention of giving you what you crave, he surprises you with a deep kiss directly onto your clit. The sensation jolts through you, and you jump, a moan escaping your lips as your ass instinctively presses against his face. He buries himself in your wet heat, sucking your underwear into his mouth, savoring the taste of your juices that have soaked through the fabric.

You can hear the soft sound of his moan as he relishes your essence, breathing in the intoxicating scent that envelops you both. In a surge of urgency, he rips your underwear down, the fabric tearing away to expose your longing. Instantly, his tongue is on you, licking through your folds with fervor, the warmth of his mouth sending shockwaves up your spine. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it with a delicious pressure that has you gasping, your body arching toward him as you feel the heat building within.

“Don’t stop,” you groan, your eyes rolling back as pure pleasure washes over you when you feel his fingers slip inside you. But instead of finding a rhythm like he usually would, he simply leaves them inside, teasingly still as he showers kisses on your inner thighs, making you writhe in desperation.

With every gentle kiss he plants, your frustration grows, a mix of pleasure and impatience flooding your veins. You instinctively try to press your hips back, seeking more friction, more of him. But he responds with a firm grip, pressing you further into the cool surface of the vanity with his other hand. You let out another desperate “fuck,” the sound barely contained as you grasp the edge of the table, your fingers digging into the wood for support.

Your legs shake, threatening to give out under the delicious strain of need. The sensation of his fingers buried deep inside you, coupled with the relentless assault of his mouth, sends you spiraling. The heat pooling in your core intensifies, every flick of his tongue and press of his fingers driving you closer to insanity. You’re lost in a haze of sensation, each moment stretching out as the pleasure ebbs, leaving you gasping for release.

“Hyunjin, please,” you plead, your voice shaky with desire, craving more of his touch, more of everything. But he just chuckles softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, igniting the fire that burns even brighter.

He responds to your plea with a sultry grin, the corners of his mouth quirking up as if he enjoys the power he holds over you. “You want more, baby?” he teases, his breath hot against your glistening folds, sending shivers down your spine. Without waiting for an answer, he dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit with tantalizing precision, sending you tumbling deeper into the bliss he’s creating. The sensations are overwhelming, a mix of heat and urgency that makes your heart race. Each flick of his tongue ignites a spark, and you can feel the familiar coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to snap at any moment.

He picks up the pace, alternating between sucking your clit and plunging his tongue into you, each movement more fervent than the last. Your moans fill the dressing room, echoing off the walls as you lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. The pressure builds with every deliberate motion, and you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge, a dizzying mix of pleasure and need. His fingers, still buried deep inside you, finally begin to move, curling and pressing against that perfect spot as he pushes you further.

“Hyunjin, I’m—” you gasp, unable to finish your thought as the waves of pleasure crash over you, each one stronger than the last. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, a tidal wave of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you. He hums against you, and it only serves to heighten your need. The world around you fades, leaving only the sweet sound of your breathing and the exquisite taste of him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire. The command ignites something deep within you, and with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, you shatter. The pleasure floods through you, white-hot and all-consuming, as you scream his name, the sound spilling from your lips as your body quakes in ecstasy. He doesn’t let up, riding you through the waves of your climax, each aftershock sending you higher as he keeps you teetering on the edge of bliss, leaving you breathless and utterly spent.

As the last waves of pleasure ripple through you, you slowly come back to reality, your breath still heavy and uneven. Hyunjin softly pulls away as you turn to face him, his gentle hands helping guide you around. You feel a rush of warmth as he looks up at you, a mixture of satisfaction and adoration reflected in his darkened gaze. He leans in, planting tender kisses along your thighs, lingering on each mark he left behind.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and warm, laced with concern. His fingers find your waist, stroking gentle patterns on your skin, grounding you in the afterglow. You nod, a smile breaking across your face as you catch your breath, feeling cherished and adored.

“More than okay,” you reply, the thrill of pleasure still dancing in your veins. He grins, that beautiful, playful smile that never fails to make your heart flutter, and you can’t help but reach out, cupping his face and pulling him closer for a sweet kiss. It’s soft and lingering, filled with the warmth of shared intimacy, a stark contrast to the heated passion of just moments before.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leans back against the vanity, his warmth enveloping you. You melt into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both take a moment to bask in the aftermath. The room feels quiet and safe, the chaos of the party outside a distant memory.

“You had me a little worried there,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through your hair as he looks down at you, his eyes softening. “I’ve never seen you so needy before..”

You laugh softly, the sound light and airy, your heart swelling with affection for him. “Only for you,” you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze, feeling a new wave of warmth flood your cheeks. “I didn’t know you could be so… intense.”

“Only for you,” he replies, matching your tone, but sincerity rings in his voice. He brushes a thumb over your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. You can’t help but lean into his touch, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

After a few quiet moments, he reaches down and gathers your underwear from the floor, a playful glint in his eyes. “You might want these back,” he says, smirking as he tosses them to you. You laugh, the sound echoing lightly in the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Thanks,” you say, shaking your head but grinning as you slip them back on, feeling the soft fabric against your skin. He watches you, a satisfied smile on his lips, as if he’s just completed a masterpiece.

“Should we get back out there?” he asks, his tone teasing but laced with warmth. You nod, feeling the lingering effects of your climax settle into a comfortable hum within you.

“We could…” You meet his gaze with a soft smile, “But I think rumors might spread about the K-pop idol with a hard-on at the afterparty.” You gesture to his pants, and he looks down with a laugh, a flush creeping into his cheeks as he adjusts himself.

“Yeah, I might need to do something about that,” he replies, an impish glint in his eyes.

You smirk, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “How about I return the favor?” His eyes widen, the playful warmth shifting into something more heated as he locks onto your gaze, the tension between you thickening once again. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he murmurs, a teasing grin spreading across his face. The night is far from over, and you both know it.

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🦋

#ohmynabiii #skz #stray kids #fanfic #skz stay #hyunjin #hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut

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fictionismyreality3 · 8 months ago

Note

Can we have a smut of stalker Jason with somnophilia and crazy to eat pussy? Plsss

I mean, Jason is a natural fucking pussy eater.

AND I'M HAPPY TO HAVE PLACED YOUR FIRST RESQUET!!

Can I be the 💦 anon? To u know that is me

Too Much to Take (18+)

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: Smut, stalker!jason todd, possessive!jason todd

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, somnophilia, stalking, dubcon, guns, drugs, little to no aftercare.

Notes: hi babes!! I’m so so sorry this took so long, a bear ate my phone. My beautiful 💦 your request is much appreciated. I know it’s unrealistic that the reader never wakes up but I have nevER EVER BEEN HAPPIER.

The cool, night breeze of Bludhaven blew the white chiffon curtains your mother had gotten you in the wind. Across from your bed sat a gorgeous, kingly armchair where you loved to sit and read. Your apartment was carefully decorated by your artful hands, each piece put perfectly in its place. When you got home everyday, you knew you would be returning to a safe, cozy home full of memories and comfort items. Everything was just how it should be.

That’s why the man standing in your apartment was so out of place.

You were asleep, of course. Knocked out after a long day running errands. Your bed had welcomed you warmly, and you couldn’t resist cracking open your window just a little bit, wanting to savour the start of spring.

You knew the automatic danger that came with living in Bludhaven, but you’d saved up enough to move to a nicer area, and your apartment was on the 8th floor of your building. Surely, nobody would bother risking the fall.

Surely.

It had been three days since Jason had first saw you. Three days too long since he’d seen you in person. He’d watched you nearly every minute of the last 72 hours, consuming every ounce of information he could find about you and your life.

His shift watching over Bludhaven ended tomorrow, when Dick would be returning from wherever he went. So, he only had around a day left of viable excuse to be near you. After that, finding a reason to be in Bludhaven even longer would be his main priority. It was clear that he’d already be wherever you were. The thought of not being able to reach you was enough to shatter what little was left of his soul.

No, no, there was no going back now.

And so, Jason found himself perched on the rooftop across from your building, the endless Bludhaven rain pelting across his broad shoulders.

He spent the first few moments watching you carry out your night routine. It was all things many people in Bludhaven overlooked, or dropped as soon as their lives were overtaken by the chaos in the city. Somehow, you’d managed to maintain a semblance of a normal life even while being surrounded by shootings and drug runs.

He stayed still, hovering over your apartment like a cloud of death, his gaze never breaking to stray to anything else but you. He watched you make dinner, he watched you tidy up, he watched you get ready for bed. All of it was as fascinating to him as everything he’d seen when he researched your background.

All the little habits you did. The way you fiddled with the timer on the stove while you waited for the food, the way you danced to your music while you did dishes, the way you preferred an endless heap of pillows on your bed. Every little quirk he watched served to drill your presence deeper into his being. You were exactly what he needed.

So pure.

Innocent enough to leave your bedroom window open in the middle of a crime surge in the only city worse than Gotham.

It gave Jason the perfect opportunity to watch you sleep, and the perfect opportunity to survey your apartment for places to set up cameras. He’d need to make sure that he had every inch of the place covered so he could watch you at all times. The last thing Jason wanted was for some criminal or other creep to breathe the same air as you.

Oh, how cute.

He looked on as you settled into bed, reaching over to your nightstand to pat the head of a tiny giraffe plushy, as if it would stand guard and protect you from all the dangers in the world. You didn’t need a stupid plushie. You had him now.

But what if you needed him and he wasn’t there? What if you left your window open every night and someone with worse intentions was there to take advantage of it? He needed to be there to protect you, to keep away all the dangers and make sure you lived like a princess. It could happen tonight if Jason wasn’t careful. He couldn’t have that.

Wind blew the curtains in your window aside, as if the world was parting the barriers that lay between you. He was just going to make sure that nobody who was less well meaning than him would take a chance to hurt you.

With the speed of years and years of training, Jason hopped from rooftop to rooftop, as quiet as a panther stalking its prey. But Jason wasn’t stalking you. No, he was helping you, making sure you were safe.

Landing on your fire escape balcony without a sound, Jason stood motionless as he peered into your bedroom, his eyes locked on your sleeping form.

You were like an angel in his eyes. Something clean and untouched. Something that he could have all to himself now that he’d found you. Jason wasn’t worried about tainting you with his red-stained hands, no, you were saving him. You had saved him.

He took the time to study your bedroom, burning each item of decor into his mind. There were so many perfect spots to put cameras, and of course, he’d brought some with him just in case. They were small, tech he had ‘borrowed’ from Bruce’s generous stockpile in the safe house he was staying at.

He could have them placed and synced back up with his computer in less than five minutes. It would be so easy he wouldn’t even wake you.

And Jason didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t just the fact that he felt you looked so peaceful sleeping, something he would hate to disturb, it was that he wasn’t ready.

If you knew who he was, how could he guarantee your safety? Not to mention the fact that you might even try to run from him.

Like hell.

So, Jason found himself pushing the window you’d cracked open further, till he could just slip inside. Landing on the balls of his feet as he’d been trained to do a hundred times before, his presence was barely audible.

Just being in the same room as you felt like he was drunk and more alert than ever all at once. In the back of his mind, a sour voice told him to stop, to let this be the farthest he went and leave before things got out of hand. God forbid Bruce found out. But he pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came.

Taking his time, he walked slowly around your bedroom, his eyes soaking in everything that was just you. It was impossible to resist purusing your things as he came to your dresser. Trailing his fingers across all the little decorations you had, he closed his eyes, imagining he was touching your skin instead.

He couldn’t resist opening the drawers, and nearly sank to his knees when he saw that the first one he opened was full of your panties and bras. His mask suddenly felt constricting, and he immediately noticed his breaths pick up.

“Jesus Christ.” He huffed out in a sharp breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Looking back over at you sleeping in the bed, it was like he had the devil on both shoulders. Without thinking long enough to regret it, he reached for the prettiest pair, pocketing it so quickly it may as well had never been there.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, but continued placing cameras in places nobody but him would think to check. He’d have to come back later to do the rest of the apartment.

After just watching you sleep for what felt like far too little time, Jason finally willed himself to turn and leave. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest. The thought of getting to be this close to you, only to have it ripped away, was almost too much to bear. Still, he made his way back to your window. That’s when he heard it.

The sound of rustling sheets filled Jason’s expertly trained ears and his gaze snapped to the noise instantly as he froze in place, halfway out your window.

Dear god.

Where you had been snuggled cutely in your blankets, you had kicked them off to leave your lower half exposed.

Your gorgeous legs lay splayed across your bed, long and elegant. All of his senses were dialled in on the singular sight of you. His cock thrummed with heat almost instantly, his pants stretched out by his girth as his gazed strayed further.

You were wearing a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a shirt that was far too big for you and he’d be damned if he said it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

With an amount of restraint he didn’t think he possessed, Jason bit his tongue, practically salivating at the sight of you. He rested his head against the window frame, halfway out of your apartment, halfway towards making a very bad decision.

He should leave. He should leave and never come back and leave you alone and stop. But he couldn’t.

Fuck it.

Refusing to spend any more time not having you, Jason pulled himself back through your window, prowling towards your bed.

He just stood there for a while like he had already, staring at the delicious curve of your ass and feeling his cock harden in his pants. If he was already going to hell for this then he would take his time savouring his sins.

But he could only hold himself back for so long.

With a quiet groan, Jason crept nearer to your side, pulling away the rest of the blankets as carefully as he could. It wasn’t that important for him to see all of you just yet. Not only was his mind only focused on one thing, but he knew he had all the time in the world to study every part of you. You were his after all.

Now that your lower half was exposed to the cool spring air, there was only one barrier keeping Jason from taking what was holding his entire soul. He prayed you were a heavy sleeper, and lowered himself to his stomach on the bed. Propped up on his elbows, there were only a few inches separating him from the only thing he wanted.

Thank god for sleep shorts.

In the back of his mind, he was already adding buying you something less revealing to his list of things to do, not wanting anyone to see you but him. But that could wait.

Taking off his mask and placing it on the floor beside your bed, he bit his tongue and gently hooked his fingers underneath your sleep shorts, pulling them to the side. All at once the breath left his lungs and he felt like his world was being tipped upside down. You didn’t wear any panties to bed.

Jason had to close his eyes for a moment in order to control his urge to wake you up and ravish you. When he opened them again, they flickered green and he zeroed in on what was making his mouth water.

Your pretty little pussy.

It was a miracle he’d gotten this far to be honest, but you didn’t seem to stir for anything. Thanking whatever force was allowing him this one pleasure, he moved closer to you and began taking what he wanted so desperately.

The moment his mouth met your pussy he nearly came in his pants.

Stopping for a second, he waited for any sign you were awake, his heart pounding in his ears. But you were still silent. Jason took this as his go ahead, but he had no intentions of stopping anyway.

He peppered kisses along your pussy, drunk on the softness of your skin and the taste of you on his lips. Everything in him was bursting with thrill, and he could barely stop himself from rutting against your bed to get some much needed friction. He wasn’t in his mind anymore, the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet was your sweet little cunt.

You began to breathe a little heavier in your sleep, your soft breathing quickly getting deeper. But Jason didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Not when you tasted so divine, not when your skin felt like heaven on his tounge. He moved to your clit now, his whole face practically pressed into your pussy. If he was gonna go out between your legs, it was a death he would gladly take.

He sucked on your clit, alternating between swirling his tounge around it in tight little circles and sloppily eating you out. It was getting harder and harder for Jason to control the level of noise he was making. His groans and low, rumbling growls began to fill the room. It was just you. Only you in his mind, his heart, and his soul.

Oh, fuck.

You were making these cute little noises now. Little breathy whimpers and whines were leaving your lips. With each sound that reached his ears, he felt a bit more of his control slipping.

He hadn’t even noticed he was fucking you with two fingers until you began to squirm. All at once he halted all his movement, waiting for his fun to end, but your eyes never opened. This would all just be a really good dream for you. He almost chuckled at the idea.

Certain you’d stay asleep, he buried his face in your pussy, eating you like a man starved. His fingers pumped in and out of your now slick cunt, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted your sweetness on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He needed to make you cum. He needed to be the one, the only one, bringing you pleasure. He wanted to feel your cum running down his face. He wanted to taste you on his tongue three days from now.

There was no point trying to contain himself anymore. He’d already jumped off the edge a long time ago. Jason pumped a third finger into you, allowing himself to grind his raging cock against your bed. The noises you were making were getting louder, and you were beginning to writhe in your sheets every time he slammed his fingers into you. He knew he’d have to be quick, but honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Taking your clit in between his teeth, he grazed the sensitive skin just enough to have you even wetter for him. Jason was desperate. All his cares, all his worries had been replace by an unending, carnal urge for you.

Only you.

He pumped his fingers faster, driving them in and out while he ate you like a man possessed. Then, he got to experience what was easily the best thing that ever happened to him.

Without warning, your needy whimpers turned into one long, high pitched whine, and your sweetness burst into Jason’s mouth. He felt like he died all over again, cumming in his pants as he groaned into your pussy, shuddering. Never once did his fingers stop, only slowing to allow himself to lap up all of your juices.

The world was quiet for a moment as he stayed hooked on your cunt, his eyes closed in bliss.

But he couldn’t stay forever.

With an insane amount of difficulty, Jason placed one more kiss on your clit, and pulled your shorts back in place. His own underwear would be ruined, and he would definitely have to wash his pants, but he couldn't have given less of a shit.

Once he was sure you’d stay asleep, he moved off the bed, coming to stand beside your now flushed face. Jason didn’t know what was worse, having to leave after tasting the best thing ever, or the fact that you’d only remember this as a dream.

Not wanting to think about anything but how full his heart felt, he leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your cheek.

“Sweet dreams, baby. You’re mine.” He whispered softly, as if you could hear him, and brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Taking one last glance at your pretty face, he turned and crept his way out of your apartment, leaving the way he came, through the window.

He made sure to close it.

It was clear to Jason that he should be feeling shame, remorse or disgust with himself for what he just did, but the only thing on his mind was how he wanted you awake for next time. And there would be a next time.

When you awoke that morning, and the haze of sleep cleared from your mind, your focus instantly went to the wetness between your thighs. You blushed as vague memories of a rather nice dream sprung to the forefront of your thoughts.

Shaking your head, you crawled out of bed, yawning, when your eyes caught on a slightly confusing sight.

“Didn’t I leave that open?”

#oneshot #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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fics-a-plenty · 1 year ago

Text

Hurtful Words and Bear Hugs

Astarion x gn!reader x Halsin

Word Count: 1,411

TW: Spoilers for Astarion's story in Act 3, mentions Astarion's victims, reader crying

Hi! It's been awhile!

This game literally has me in a choke hold. I am so weak for these two men. I love that you can have a little romance between the three of you. 🥰

As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to send any requests for these two as they own my thoughts at the moment!

The days following their victory over his past master, Astarion had struggled with his thoughts and feelings. He felt terrible for how distant he had become, especially as you tried your best to be supportive. Yourself struggling with how to balance giving him his space and wanting to just hold the lost man until his world seemed to piece itself together again.

The one thing stopping him from his full blow guilt was that Halsin was there to distract you at times. The larger man seemed to have a better grasp on his emotions than Astarion did, always seeming to pull you off to some task that needed your attention just at the right times or to lead you back to Astarion's tent with hands and hearts full from their adventures whenever he felt the weight of loneliness creep back in. The pale elf was even sure that at times the druid spoke to Scratch and the owlbear cub to cause small bits of chaos or demand attention from you when he could no longer keep your focus.

Astarion was especially grateful for the times the three of you could spend time together in peaceful silence, either walking around near the camp or just sitting near the fire while he read next to you as you focused on redoing the braids on the side of Halsin's head. While the days seemed to be getting better, and his heart seemed to fill in the empty spots left behind by his revenge and the past that had lead to it, some days seemed to thrust him right back into the deep of it.

He pretended not to see the sad glances you shot him as you racked your brain for some way to help. He knew you meant well and normally he would appreciate it or tease you for how wrapped around his finger you were, but today it just seemed to be to much. He hadn't meant for the groan of annoyance to leave his lips as you came by his tent for the third time today, wanting to check in on him.

"What is it you could possibly want this time?" He snapped as he slammed his book shut, shooting a glare at you from where he sat in his tent. "If you're coming to see how I'm doing, let me save you the breath. I'm the same as I was the other million times you've interrupted me today. Now do you have something to actually contribute to my time or can I read in peace?"

It took a moment for him to realize just what had been said, and by the time the guilt had built up in his chest, your eyes had gone glossy. You turned your face away, not wanting him to see your tears welling up.

"I was just coming to tell you that Halsin and I were going into the city to get a hot meal. I was gonna see if you wanted to come, but I guess I'll let you read."

He could have sworn that he could hear his cold heart crack at the shake in your voice. His lips parted to apologize, but his throat tightened around the words before they could leave. He sat in silence as he watched you turn to walk back to where Halsin was waiting nearby.

His eyes met the druid's before you got to him. The wood elf's eyes seemed to be conflicted, split between knowing Astarion hadn't truly meant to hurt your feelings and the disappointment that the interaction had gone so wrong. Once the two figures were gone from sight, the vampire let out a deep sigh and tried to go back to his book. The words just wouldn't come to him now, and every thought seemed to lead back to the hurt look on your face.

Tossing the book onto the ground next to him, he ran his hands through his hair, partially wishing that he could physically push the thought to the back of his mind or even out of his brain altogether. Deciding to take a walk around camp, the lingering eyes of the other camp inhabitants pushed him to walk further and further away until the camp faded from view.

He wasn't even sure how long he wandered, lost in the downward spiral his mind had fallen into. The tears in your eyes fading into the tears of the past victims as they realized the pain he had lead into. Visions of the lives he had ruined flooded his mind until he couldn't take it. An almost feral scream ripped from his throat as he swung his fist against the trunk of a tree he had wandered to close to, another innocent victim to the control he didn't have over himself.

The pain pulsing in his hand seemed to help ground him as he fell to lean his back against the hard bark. He would have been a sight to anyone wandering by, the pale elf with a bloody hand resting in the ground. His fangs bared in his open mouth, and his chest heaving to try to catch his breath. The now rising moon beginning to reflect off the streaks of wetness down his face.

As his red eyes stared up at the glowing rock, he began to push through the dark thoughts, trying his best to lock them back in the recesses of his mind they belonged in. The sound of your voice began to ring in his mind, helping to fend off the thoughts of self doubt and hatred that lingered. The countless times you had told him that he was good enough, that he was worth being loved and cherished. The times you had kissed his face until these same bad feelings were long forgotten.

As his heart and breath began to settle, the world seemed to know what he needed in that moment, and the wind shifted to blow gently against his face. His lips curled up slightly as the faintest whisp of your scent kissed his skin as if you were there with him. It dawned on him that in the hours he must have been gone that you were probably running yourself wild with worry. A short laugh forced itself from his lips as he imagined Halsin trying to quell your panic, probably saying something about some time in nature doing him good.

The walk back to camp was much quicker that he imagined, his feet pulling him home faster as your scent got stronger. It lead him straight towards Halsin's tent. The deep sound of the man's snore was almost as if he was walking into a real bear hibernating.

He froze for a moment as he saw you curled up against the bear of an elf. Your hand slowly moving back and forth over the hairy chest being the only sign that you were still awake. His feet moved him toward you before he asked them to, before he could even worry about if you would want to see him. He crawled in carefully behind you, not wanting to wake the other. His hand hovered over your side, hesitating at the thought that you may still be hurt.

Your skin against his brought him back to the moment as you pulled his arm over your waist. You thumb began to move side to side on his wrist, your wordless forgiveness warming his chest and releasing tension that he didn't know he was still holding.

"I'm sorry." The words were so quiet as they left his lips that he wasn't even sure he has really said them.

"I know." The quiet response was just as possible to be a fantasy.

"I didn't-" His throat closed again as you turned to look over your shoulder at him.

"I know." Turning your face back forward, you brought his hand to your lips before squeezing it slightly and clutching it to your chest.

The moment of peace was interrupted by the sleeping druid rolling over and throwing his arm over the two. As his thick arm tightened around them, each you and Astarion let out a groan as you were both crushed into the bear hug. The smiles on the three faces and the quiet laughs drifting from the tent seeming to right every wrong in the world for just the moment as the two of you joined Halsin in a well needed night of rest.

#astarion x reader #astarion x reader x halsin #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #reader insert #halsin x reader

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bellaxgiornata · 5 months ago

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-six: "The Quiet Morning at Home"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You wake up the morning after the gala with Matt.

Mittens interrupts a moment to cause a little chaos.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: There's a bit of sexual content in this one, but it's mostly a lot of sweet fluff. And some chaotic Mittens Murdock... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @babygirlmurdock @theoraekenslover @wanda-maxamommy @justanerd1

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you attempted to adjust to the bit of light trickling into the bedroom. The muffled sound of the bustling early morning city traffic far below the apartment filtered in through the windows as you continued to gradually wake. The muted and distant sound of cars honking on the busy streets had you appreciating the fact that today was Sunday and you had nowhere to be in a rush.

Inevitably when your eyes had adjusted to the dim morning light they found their way to Matt. He was lying on his side facing towards you with one of his bare, muscular arms resting over the top of the silk sheets. His hand was stretched out towards you on top of the blankets, his fingers only mere inches from where you lay beside him as if he'd been reaching out towards you in his sleep. The thought that he might have been drew a small smile onto your lips.

These were your favorite types of mornings. Slow, sunny ones like this one where the bedroom was always swathed in the faintest golden glow of early morning sunlight slipping its way past the curtains. You loved how the light cast streams of warmth over Matt's sleeping form beside you, somehow making him look almost angelic as he lay there.

You could never resist studying the details of his peaceful expression in the quiet stillness of the weekend mornings whenever you managed to wake before him, either. Watching the steady, even rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets, his plush lips slightly parted. Sometimes, like this morning, you even noted that he almost seemed to be smiling in his sleep, the corners of his lips gently curled upwards. Though in your observation of him today you couldn't help but notice the mess his dark hair currently was atop his head. Heat crept into your cheeks as you recalled what the two of you had done last night at the gala–and then what you'd both done here afterwards.

Biting your lip as the memories of last night rushed back to you, making you more aware of how naked you and Matt both currently were beneath the sheets, your attention dropped down to the foot of the bed. Mittens wasn't curled in a ball sleeping in his usual spot, which meant he must've woken up early and slipped out through the crack in the bedroom door that you and Matt always kept partially open for him. You figured he was probably out in the living room now, sitting in his cat tree and watching the morning traffic on the street below while trying to scare off the pigeons that occasionally dared to perch on the small ledges of the building outside the window.

Slowly your eyelids leisurely lowered again, a comfortable calm washing over you as you quietly lay in bed. Inhaling a deep breath in, your smile only grew wider on your lips as you relaxed further into the mattress. Despite the woman who'd flirted with Matt at the gala and the way you'd been treated last night–which was apparently exactly how Karen and Foggy had fared in their own respective ways as you'd come to learn from them after the event–things felt perfect right now. As if everything was exactly how it should be.

Though you still couldn't believe that you'd let Matt fuck you in that office last night while hundreds of New York City elite were just outside in the ballroom. The memory of that part of the evening, along with how he'd called you ‘Mrs. Murdock’ and the way it had made you feel, had left you surprisingly and wonderfully lightheaded and shockingly aroused for the rest of the evening. By the time you'd both made it back to the apartment, the pair of you had been so worked up that Matt had quite literally torn your dress right off of you shortly after you'd gotten through the door. A shudder ran through you as you recalled that dark, irresistible look in his eyes when he'd dragged you into the bedroom with him before he'd certainly driven the point home that you were his.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Your eyes abruptly reopened, focusing back on Matt's face at the sound of his sleep-laden voice greeting you. His eyes were also open now, fixed along your chest and most likely listening to the sound of your heartbeat and your breathing. It was something he'd long since confessed he focused on first thing in the mornings to determine whether you were awake or asleep–though he’d also admitted that he just liked listening to the sound.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, a cheeky, sleepy grin slowly stretching across his tired face.

His hand reached out a bit further, closing the distance between the pair of you as his fingers brushed along your bare shoulder. It was a second before your brain realized your body must have been reacting to your thoughts about the things you’d both done after the gala. That must've been the first thing he'd picked up on when he woke.

“Just uh, thinking about last night,” you admitted, shifting closer towards him on the bed.

“Mmm, last night?” he replied, that sleepy grin still on his lips.

Copying your movements, Matt also moved closer to you on the bed. His hand slid down your shoulder, slipping beneath the sheets as his fingers found their way down the length of your arm and then over your hips. Eventually his fingers dipped down between your bare thighs, your heartbeat steadily increasing under his touch. But then you caught the way his lips twitched downwards at the corner when his fingers paused, his gaze dropping down from your face to where your thighs were hidden beneath the sheets.

“Hopefully I didn't hurt you last night,” he said.

His fingers carefully traced a few marginally sore spots on the inner part of your thighs. The memory of Matt's teeth sinking into them from the night before sent a pleasant sensation through you and you shook your head lightly along the pillow in response. Your own hand made its way out of the sheets, reaching up towards Matt's face to affectionately run your fingertips over the bit of stubble on his chin.

“You didn't hurt me, Matty,” you assured him. “But I'm taking it that you succeeded in marking me just like you promised you would. I haven’t exactly seen your handiwork yet.”

He smiled a little sheepishly back at you, his eyes making their way back up towards your chin. His head tilted just a fraction as he leaned into your touch, your fingers still delicately trailing their way back and forth along the length of his jaw.

“Guess I really wasn't thinking too clearly when we got back,” he murmured. “Left you quite a few bruises from the way your body sounds.”

His thumb swiped over a few spots on your thigh, his brows creasing together a little as he did. He looked almost upset about what he'd done last night, but you'd certainly enjoyed every bite of his teeth along the inside of your thighs and the flesh of your breasts when he'd been pinning you to the bed last night. You'd been quite vocal about how much you'd liked it last night, too, but it seemed you needed to remind him again now.

“I'm fine , Matt,” you pressed. “Really. You didn't hurt me. And if you recall, I was certainly enjoying myself. If anything,” you continued, your fingers tenderly gliding their way up his stubbled cheek and past his temple before they gently began to card through his hair, “I kind of like knowing they're there. Even if I haven't seen them yet. I uh…kind of like knowing that you were the one to put them there.”

The expression shifted on Matt's face from sheepish to something mischievous almost immediately. You'd opened your mouth to say something more, but you were quickly quieted when Matt abruptly rose up onto a hand on the bed, his other hand leaving your thigh in order to pull the sheets down from over the top of you, revealing your naked upper torso to the faint chill of the bedroom. Without pause, Matt climbed over the top of you, pinning you between his strong arms as his muscular thighs landed on either side of yours, just like he’d done to you last night.

“What're you doing?” you asked, smiling up at him.

The mischievous grin never left his face as he gazed down at you beneath him. The sheets had fallen down even further on the pair of you, and from this angle, you had an almost perfect and complete view of Matt's entire beautiful and naked front half entirely on display. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you tried to fight back a giggle but failed. The sound only had his smile growing as he hovered above you, his eyes fixed on your chin.

“Making amends,” he answered.

“Making amends for wha–”

You stopped short as Matt's face dipped down towards your chest, his soft lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of your breast. His mouth lingered for a moment, the feel of him against you heating your body almost instantly beneath him. Though when he finally pulled away, you noticed your chest indeed had a handful of love bites marking both of your breasts in a plethora of little bruises.

Matt shifted just a bit above you before his mouth lowered again, his lips placing another gentle kiss atop yet another mark on the swell of the same breast. Your eyelids slowly lowered, both of your hands coming up to slip their way into his hair, your fingers gently toying with the strands. When Matt shifted above you once more, you could feel his cock stirring awake against the inside of your thigh.

“ Matt ,” you said, practically sighing out his name between your lips.

He hummed a noise in response, though he seemed quite focused on his current task of apparently kissing every mark he'd made along your breasts last night. Just as you’d begun to think that you wouldn't last long if he decided to keep this up with the marks he had most certainly left between your thighs, you heard a faint noise from the other room at the exact same moment that he must have noticed it, too.

Your eyes flew open as Matt leaned back, his brows knitting together as his head tilted to the side. You were about to ask him what that sound had been before you heard the distinct pattering of frantic little paws running along the floor. Moments later Mittens jumped up on the bed beside the pair of you, the suddenness of his appearance managing to startle you beneath Matt. You noticed he was holding his tiny blue mouse in his mouth, his dark pupils blown wide as he focused solely on Matt still hovering over you.

“You've got poor timing, buddy,” Matt said, clearly unsurprised by the cat's appearance.

Mittens dropped the mouse in his mouth down to the bed next to you before he lowered the front half of his body as if he was preparing to pounce. You giggled at the sight, watching as Mittens’ tails began twitching erratically back and forth, his eyes still focused on Matt. He chirped a few noises back at him, his backend raised in the air as he went entirely still except for his tail.

“I think he's got a problem to sort with you, Matt,” you teased.

One of Matt's dark brows rose up onto his forehead, his own focus still on the cat beside you as he continued to hold himself in place above you.

“Wouldn't do that if I were you,” Matt warned Mittens. “I can take you back to where we found you, you know.”

You gasped, one hand leaving its place in Matt's hair before you playfully swatted his shoulder. “ Matt !” you hissed out, a smile on your face. “We are not getting rid of him!”

Matt's head turned, his focus shifting back to you. “I know that,” he told you, “but it's not like he knows that I’m not–”

Matt's sentence was cut short when Mittens finally pounced across the bed at him, taking Matt's moment of distraction as his chance to attack. He'd launched his little gray body forward, managing to lightly smack the side of Matt's face with his tiny gray paw. Without waiting to witness the outcome of his assault, Mittens spun in a circle along the bed before darting off of it and bolting straight back out of the bedroom.

You broke into a fit of laughter at the flat expression that slid onto Matt’s face. From behind the bedroom door, you could hear the sound of Mittens racing around the living room.

“And what's so funny?” Matt asked you, a brow arching onto his forehead.

“Just the fact that Daredevil isn't faster than a cat,” you answered, trying to fight down your amusement. “He got you yet again.”

“Cats aren't nearly as predictable as humans are to me,” Matt pointed out. “It's not like I ever spent my time training to fight cats.”

“Yeah and it–it seems like Mittens is well aware of that,” you said, still struggling to fight back your laughter. “That's why he always sneaks in a boop on you.”

“He does not,” Matt countered, rolling off the top of you. “I knew what he was doing and I let him have his shot.”

“Uh huh,” you said, giggling as you sat up in bed. “Sure you did, Matty.”

Matt blew out a rough sigh, but you saw the grin on his face before he turned and tossed the sheets off of himself. Your mind abruptly shifted back to admiring Matt’s naked form, watching the pull of muscles along his back as he rose up out of bed. Then your gaze dropped lower, lingering on his firm, round ass and the thick muscles along his thighs as he paced his way towards the dresser across the room. As he pulled open a drawer, his head shifted over his shoulder back towards where you lay in the bed.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” he said.

You grinned shamelessly before rolling your eyes and tossing the sheets off of yourself. Climbing out of bed, you paced your way over towards the dresser beside him, opening the drawer that contained your underwear and bras as Matt began to pull on a pair of boxers beside you.

“I always take every opportunity I can,” you told him.

Pulling out a pair of panties, you bent over and began slipping them on. But before you could manage to tug them up your legs, you felt both of Matt’s large palms cupping your ass. Eyes growing wide, your head darted over your shoulder as your gaze flew up towards his face. He was smiling wide back at you, both of his hands giving your ass a squeeze before he returned to finding some clothes to throw on.

“So do I,” he replied.

An amused snort left you, your eyes catching the way Matt’s smile only grew as he continued to focus on getting dressed. You finished tugging your underwear on before putting on a bra next. By the time you’d slipped on some comfortable cotton shorts and a tank top, Matt was already dressed in one of his soft shirts and a pair of gym shorts and was sliding the bedroom door fully open.

Closing your dresser drawer, you shuffled your way out of the bedroom after him. Though when you caught sight of the closet by the roof access stairs partially ajar, you immediately stopped in your tracks. A hand flew to your mouth to stifle a laugh as your eyes darted over to Mittens. He was sitting at the top of his cat tree, an almost pleased look on his face as his tail swished back and forth beside him. At the faint sound of your laughter, Matt paused his steps towards the kitchen.

“What?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder at you. “What’s so funny?”

You raised a hand, pointing a finger up at Mittens in his cat tree by the window. “He did it again,” you told him, still fighting back a laugh. “The closet door is open.”

Matt turned on the spot towards you, his brows furrowing together on his face as his head canted to the side. You saw his eyes shift around the room as he concentrated before he slowly shook his head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “I was at the gala last night. I didn’t go out in the suit at all.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied, attention returning to Mittens sitting triumphantly in his cat tree, “that clearly doesn’t matter to him. The closet door is open so it had to be him again. Neither of us were in there last night.”

A look of determination crossed Matt’s face before he made his way across the living room and over towards the closet. You stood there silently, watching as he reached a hand out and opened the closet door fully. Matt lowered into a crouch before flipping the unlocked steamer trunk open. He raised the false bottom with one hand, sticking his other inside and feeling around for a moment. After a few seconds he lowered the lid again.

“ How does he keep managing to do this?” Matt asked in awe, closing the steamer trunk lid before rising back up to his feet. “He doesn’t even have hands!”

You shrugged, laughing lightly as you focused back on Mittens in his cat tree. “I have no idea, but you secretly love it,” you answered. “It’s become both of yours’ thing at this point with how often he does it.”

Matt turned back towards you, shaking his head. “It has not,” he argued. “And if you recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted to keep him and have a cat. Not me.”

“And you’re the one who cleans his litterbox like five times a day,” you countered. “You’ve told me countless times now that you fall asleep to his purring at night. And I have no idea how many times you’ve told me that you can’t get up to do something because Mittens fell asleep on your chest. Which,” you continued, enjoying the expression on Matt’s face as you did, “I should actually have him do more often. Maybe I could get more nights in with you since Daredevil is so easily bested by a little gray cat.”

“He does not best me, sweetheart,” Matt retorted, making his way back into the living room. “And he’s not going to best me at his game, either.”

“It’s both of your game,” you corrected him. “You love the feisty little cuddlebug. Stop denying it already because neither of us believe you.”

“He’s crafty, I’ll give him that,” Matt muttered.

You rolled your eyes at Matt once more, watching as his focus shifted to trying to find the gloves of his Daredevil suit that Mittens had yet again snuck out of the steamer trunk and hid somewhere in the apartment. It was something he'd been doing for weeks now and you knew Matt loved the challenge even if he wouldn't openly admit it to you.

“Alright, I'll go get a pot of coffee brewing while you play with Mittens,” you teased Matt. “But just know that neither of us believe he's not your baby and that you're not his cat dad now.”

“I am not a cat dad,” Matt off-handedly disagreed as he lifted a pillow on the couch, feeling around for his glove.

You began making your way past him and towards the kitchen, grinning at Matt's laser focus as he searched for his gloves. As you stopped in front of the coffee machine, you looked back into the living room at Mittens. He was contentedly watching Matt meticulously make his way around the room in search of the missing part of his suit.

“He loves you, doesn't he, Mittens?” you called out.

The cat's gray head turned in your direction, his green eyes focused on you. He let out a loud meow almost as if he'd actually responded to your question. As Matt rose up from the floor beside the couch, having just been checking underneath it for his gloves, you heard him mutter out the word ‘liar.’ Breaking into a fit of laughter, you turned around and focused on making coffee for you and Matt, grateful for the relaxing Sunday morning at home with both of them.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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aethon-recs · 2 months ago

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This Week in Tomarrymort (28 September – 3 October 2024)

So many updates this week!! I feel like this has been one of the busiest weeks for one shots and new fics, particularly with @tomarrybigbang fics and art posting this week.

As always, please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, like a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, as I rely on the authors to share a bit more about their updates, if you’re so inclined! 🤍

A recap of the author notes from last week:

Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva (M, 47k, WIP) “Getting close to the end of Sits the wind now! A little bit of omegaverse, a lot of Regency-era romance. Harry is onto approx his fifth change of circumstance so far and Lord Riddle is inching closer to a confession!” Dream a little dream (of me) by @cenedrariva (E, 17k, WIP) “In Chapter 3, Voldemort continues to sneak into Harry's dreams and dismiss his nightmares, until on the last day of the summer holidays, Harry does something unexpected..." War Prize by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic (E, 10k, WIP) “Harry is a war bride in a Voldemort Wins AU, but he is also Voldemort's bodyguard. Smack (smut as crack) treated seriously, with dark themes!” I need you to live well by @onehitpleb (T, 2k, complete) “My oneshot is an alternative ending to my gen fic, where Tom grows up and falls in love with Harry. Please read the prequel before reading the oneshot sequel." Touch of Death by @moontearpensfic (E, 3k, WIP) “Touch of Death is pretty much Tom gets knocked up with eggs from an Eldritch (MoD) Harry.”

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapter 7 (completed) of midnight train by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 5 (completed) of Stand my ground by @ciacconne

Chapters 1 and 2 (completed) of Tangled Up by @known-concepts

One Shot | here, despite your destination by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | Soil by @ratzeebatz

One Shot | forgive me father by @cindle-writes

One Shot | hot and bothered, seething by yourself by @2sidesofthesamesoul

One Shot | Sharp or Dull? by @xodahafez

One Shot | on line sex & rabbit stew by @izharmilgram

One Shot | A real voyage of discovery by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | the treacle tart chef by @00queasy00

One Shot | Man of the Year by @known-concepts

One Shot | The last enemy to be defeated is death by @thespacebetweenworlds

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 1 of One for sorrow, two for mirth by @easterndreamer

Chapter 1 of A Murder by Crows by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 36 of Part One - The Solitude of Suffering by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapters 1 through 4 of The Brief Fiery Plummets by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 8 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 14 of Just Business by @holaolla1

Chapter 1 of Among Us by Blossom26

Chapter 1 of Lunacy by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapter 3 of Lovely Bitter Water by @pagesinmylife

Chapters 1 and 2 of Mending Broken Things by @tommarvoloriddlesdiary

Chapter 4 of Forbidden Darkness by @neurowriter14

Chapter 1 of demons and angels hang with us by @duender-writes

Chapter 1 of Auror Potter by @albondiguilla007

Chapter 19 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapter 1 of such unholy heaving by @cealesti

Chapter 5 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapter 11 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 126 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 2 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00

Chapter 7 of God is a Wizard by @onehitpleb

Chapter 22 of Time Stumbler by Wintumn

Chapter 17 of When time and reasons fail by citrumade

Chapters 39 through 41 of Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites

Chapter 11 of Of Soulmates and Sweet Suffering by hannah_bean

Chapter 8 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 6 of The Unintentional Consequences of Prison Reform by @badluck

Chapter 4 of i am anonymous, you are a concrete wall by Pensievable

Chapter 17 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 7 of These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain

Chapter 7 of all you do is kill, love snakes, and lie by @soopsiedaisies

Chapter 2 of Older by @v33r00

Chapter 4 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapter 3 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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tobyscloset · 6 months ago

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I am going to talk about my favourite things from chaos theory and of course, the downsides, and my personal opinions!! (Opinions based around the benrius/yasammy topic) So major spoilers ahead under the cut!

Goodsides :D

While chaos theory is a kids show, it definitely displays more mature content, something camp cretaceous did not show! This includes blood, and visual character death (Daniel Kons was specifically gruesome), and description of mental issues, this is specifically PTSD, implied depressive states and breakdowns, the show dives deep into the world of surprise, watching it i was shocked in a good way when a scene came up. Kenji's breakdown was perfectly animated and portrayed.

Each character never faded into the background and they were all equally focused on throughout the season. The show also focused on relationships between the campers, and their families. Specifically Sammy's. Each character has their own comical relief line even when in a dangerous situation. The campers never matured, only grew, they stayed themselves and still act as a group! Same way they did on Nublar.

The plot twists are bonkers, I was not expecting the DPW to be up to sketchy business, nor did I expect suddenly blossoming romance between characters. The budget is definitely higher than it was with camp cretaceous, I couldn't tell if some scenes were animated or real. Beautifully portrayed landscapes.

Overall, the show deserved every amazing rating and my personal rating is an 11/10.

Downsides D:

My first itch was the one-sided romance with Darius and Brooklynn. It certainly was a plot twist but I feel that it was absolutely unnecessary and could've been kept platonic. I feel it would be more heartbreaking and deep if Darius sent her voice messages as a friend, telling her that he's sorry and telling her things about his day. That one scene threw me off on the episode, not because I'm an angry benrius shipper but because it very much could've been kept platonic and felt unnecessary, but was written and played into perfectly. I have absolutely no criticism of the actual writing.

(this was talked about on the discord) - It feels like Brooklynn used to be independent and a baddie in camp cretaceous until she started becoming the love interest, and then it felt like she just became dependent on Kenji and unable to do things herself, so I am hoping that if we get a season 2, that we really get to see Brooklynn not be the love interest and work independently. And I genuinely hope that it won't turn out into another klance situation with Brooklynn, because she was super overhated before, and some angry benrius/benji shippers WILL hate her for "getting in the way of a mlm ship", which is not the case.

My last point was with Darius' health. Darius never got that shine through and we really never got to see how he coped with Brooklynn's death or after the island. They show little cracks but never unpack his full health, which I do hope we get to see in future seasons.

Other than those three points, I really do have nothing to criticise because it was perfect.

Personal opinions/hopes on ships :3

I really do hope we get to see more yasammy content specifically how they build up their relationship more, especially comforting scenes like we got in Ben's soggy van. And Sammy telling Yaz about her family not being in contact, and I would really love to see their relationship play out further and elaborate on the family situation!! :)

As I autismed a little too hard and have had a hyperfixation on Benrius since 2021(?), it's not to say I didn't have my hopes up for their relationship in chaos theory, but I also can't say that I expected them to be canon. What maybe the directors could've done is provide that teeny bit of fan-headcanons, because from what I've seen, alot of people from the fandom headcanoned Ben as a gay man, so instead of a girlfriend he would've had a boyfriend. Or they could have Ben lie about the girlfriend because he may have worked out he likes boys, and has internalised homophobia. But back to benrius, they had ALOT of chemistry in camp cretaceous, and for me it was a little disappointing that their relationship dwindled down a little. What I am hoping (manifesting) is that Ben realises his feelings for Darius, and has issues coming out to him and confessing.

Despite my opinions and criticism, the show is definitely worth the watch and deserves every thumbs up from the viewers. I thank everyone who worked on chaos theory and put their best effort into it. 11/10 show. Thank you.

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gardens-light · 1 year ago

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Shooting Stars

Since breaking into K.S.I, more questions than answers were being raised. It seemed like things were becoming more unclear, than they originally were. And in the midst of all the chaos, the secret (or not so secret) romance between you and Optimus begun to build. With your heart and his Spark, yearning for one another. The pair of you slowly got to a point, where you could only resist temptation for so long...

Content: Course Language. Events takes place in Transformers- Age of Extinction (no spoilers.) Fluff followed by NSFW smut. (This chapter is basically pure smut, as my head has been in the gutter for the past week.) Optimus Prime x F/Human reader.

Inspired by the song: Airplanes- B.O.B

Word Count: 2,800.

Sparkmate Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 (End)

Two Days Later

With the nights growing colder, the thin blankets that Cade found only did so much. The stained-glass windows of the cathedral no longer seemed beautiful- but more of an annoyance, as the chill air would sweep through the cracked glass.

And in addiction of Cade's snoring, sleep seemed impossible to come. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling a little as you grew bored of staring up at the ceiling, for who knows how long by now.

Sitting up and rubbing your temples, trying to allow your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit darkness. As you carefully exited out of your sleeping bag, trying to disturb the others as little as possible. Hands running along the cold brick walls, while you made your way towards the main hall.

Nerves crawled up your back, as a low rumble echoed through the main hall. Your breath hitching slightly with each step, stopping whenever the low rumble slightly peeked in volume. Moonlight lazily shined through the windows, as the overcast sky slowly cleared.

It’s just Hound. Your thoughts assured, while a suttle sigh of relief left your lungs.

The muscles in your body slightly relaxing, as the sight of the Autobot snoring away teased a smile upon your lips. Tip-toing towards the makeshift table and quietly making a protein shake. A steady breath returned to you, as the dim darkness soon grew on you, making your surroundings somewhat more comfortable.

While taking a few sips from the drink, your head tilted to the side a little, as a familiar shadow fell across the table from outside. Curiosity stirred your thoughts, causing your body to carefully tread towards a large hole in the wall.

“I thought it might have been you.”

Optimus’ optics fell onto you, a small smile spreading across his faceplate. Watching you carefully climb over the lose bricks, with your drink in hand. You approached the mechanical giant, as he sat upon the ground. Leaning against the solid wall of the cathedral.

He felt your eyes study his features, “are you alright, Optimus? You look tired.”

“I’ll be alright, Sweet Spark.” His soothing voice assured, “you do not need to worry about me.-”

“But I do, Optimus.” You shyly admitted, walking towards the gazebo, that still had string lights and fairy lights surrounding it. “Especially what you said earlier.”

You watched his optics quickly avoid your questioning gaze. His helm lowering slightly, as guilt played on his processors and slightly squeezed his Spark. You wasn’t supposed to hear that...

“’What did you mean? ‘You’re done fighting for humans.’ You didn’t mean that... did you?”

“Y/N...” Optimus sighed, hesitating before looking back at you. “How many more of my kind must be sacrificed to atone for your mistakes?”

“What do you think ‘being human’ means?” you questioned. Another arrow of guilt struck Optimus’ core, as his audio receivers detected the underlying hurt within your voice. “That’s what we do, we make mistakes. But sometimes the most amazing things comes from those mistakes.”

You softly bit your bottom lip, fingers playing with the cup as you took a moment.

“When I fixed you... it was for a reward.” The words tasted like poison upon your tounge, as regret slowly squeezed your heart. But at the same time, a sensation of relief washed over you. Like a long bottled-up secret could finally break free. “That was it. That was the only reason why. For the money.”

Optimus slowly turned his attention back onto you, his expression softening as his optics watched a single tear roll down your cheek.

“And that was me making a mistake. But without it, you wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be here.”

Reaching out for him, a slight ease relaxed your aching heart as Optimus still welcomed your touch. A loving sigh escaping him, as your delicate fingers ran the back of his servo.

“So... even if you have no faith in us, all I’m asking is you do what Dad taught me and Tessa. Look past all the junk and see the treasures.” Your hand ran up towards his wrist, gently pulling out your iron ring from under his metal plates. “You need to have faith, Prime, in who we can be.”

Optimus’ free servo curled into a relaxed fist, gently using the knuckle of his index digit to brush away a tear from your cheek. His touch feathered down your body, fingertips tracing each and every curve which the Autobot has now memorized. Carefully wrapping it around your waist, picking you up and bringing you closer to his height.

You were just about to say something, but Optimus’ lips lightly pressed against your own. Giving you a passionate kiss, as both closed your eyes, melting into each other's embrace. The cup slipped from your hand, landing upon the ground with a small shatter, while you wrapped both arms around the Autobot’s neck.

“Forgive me, my Sweet Spark.” Optimus pleaded, his kiss trailing down your neck.

“I-I just don’t want to lose you.” you turned your head to the side, giving him more room to kiss your neck.

“You could never lose me-”

The sound of an airplane's engine roared above, causing Optimus to briefly break away. As you both looked up at the night sky, seeing the lights from the metal wings.

“If only wishes could be made upon airplanes, like we do with shooting stars.” You sighed. Only to chuckle a little, that sounded a little corny.

“Why? What would you wish for?”

Your eyes returned to Optimus’ optics, “that we could have a moment of peace, with no interruptions. Just... Just us two being alone.”

“Well... we’re alone now.” The Autobot spoke, the small spark of desire zapping within his core. Causing his processors to stir his mind towards temptation. His thumb gently rubbing small circles upon your lower back.

A flirtatious smile teased the corners of your lips, “then... perhaps we should make the most of it.”

Without hesitation, Optimus’ lips returned to yours. As he carefully laid you upon the curved roof of the gazebo, his free servo trailing down towards the waist band of your PJ bottoms.

“I’ll start slow.” He promised, briefly allowing his lips to part from yours. “If I ever get too much. Please tell me, Sweet Spark.”

You silently nodded, as a small shade of pink dusted your cheeks.

Bringing both servos towards your thighs, massaging the muscles. While he placed passionate kisses along your neck, towards your collarbone. Butterflies disburse in your stomach, as a warming amber begun to flicker within your core.

Hearing your soft moans against his audio processors, heat begun to rise beneath Optimus’ metal plates. The fans in his vents barely able to keep his temperature at bay.

A low sigh escaped your lips, as Optimus’ glossa traced the curves of your cleavage. A shy smile teasing the corners of your mouth, as a satisfied hum rumbled deep within his throat. Hands embracing his helm, as Optimus’ mouth danced over your clothed breasts, softly biting through the fabric, leaving suttle bite marks upon your skin.

“Optimus...”

Your torso rolled and moved against his mouth. Hands exploring the worn parts of his helm, caressing his old battle scars. Your eyes closed, as your head gently rested against the gazebo’s roof.

Your breath hitched slightly, as Optimus’ placed a last kiss upon your hip. The small ambers within your core slowly rolled into a warm flame, once your eyes met his loving gaze. His hands cupping your ass, occasionally giving it a cheeky squeeze, as the desire pulsing through his Spark tore away the remaining pieces of his self-control.

“Don’t stop.” You encouraged, seeing the lust glossing over his optics.

A shaky breath leaving his lips, as you ran your hands towards your clothed core. Feeling Optimus’ digits twitch, as you opened your legs, causing the Autobot to fall onto his knees. His glossa licking his bottom lip, breath hitching as you slowly tugged your bottoms down your hips.

The scent of your arousal drove Optimus into a spin, a burning desire of want pulsing through his wires, as his beating Spark cried for satisfaction.

Sh-She smells so good. His processors teased.

“Th-These... are in the way.” Optimus lowly spoke, his servo’s gently tugging the waistband of your bottoms down a little more.

“Remove them then.”

A breathless gasp escaped you, as the Autobot tore away the clothing along with your laced undergarments. The sound of the tearing fabric leaving your body made your soaked core clench around nothing. As Optimus carelessly threw the items aside, burying his faceplate between your thighs before the clothes could even reach the ground.

Muffled whimpers tried to leave you, as you bit your bottom lip. Body quivering and legs trembling, as Optimus’ glossa caressed your folds. His servos returning to your thighs, gently placing your legs over his shoulders. Before using one of his servos to tease your wet, throbbing entrance.

Your back arched against the roof, a moan slipping from your mouth, as Optimus’ middle digit slowly entered your sweet spot. The satisfied growl coming from the back of the Autobot’s throat, rippled against your skin. His lips tenderly kissing tangled the nerves of your clit, as his digit pushed more into your depth. Your soaked core relaxing, as his servo gently rocked against you. Ripping more muffled whimpers and whines from you, with each plunge of his digit.

Electric volts raced through Optimus’ wires, as fireworks burst within his Spark. His engine revving, low moans rumbling within his throat, as his optics looked up at you. A smile forming upon his lips, as he witnessed the hot mess you slowly tuned into.

“You’re so wet, my darling.” His voice cooed, “you’re practically dripping down me. Perhaps, I should clean you up.”

Before words could form a question, a moan slipped from your lips as Optimus’ servo retreated from your core. Eyes widening, as his mouth kissed and sucked upon the glistening folds of your entrance. Your nails digging into his helm, scratching the navy-blue paint, as his glossa plunged into you without hesitation.

“Optimus! Optimus!”

His free servo quickly clasped against your mouth, muffling the whines of his name. A speechless command for quiet, as his passionate assault upon your soft spot didn’t ease.

Your eyes rolled shut, arching your back and melting into the heated moment. As your legs spread a little more, giving Optimus more space to push his lips against you. Allowing his glossa to go deeper into your wet depths.

His free servo slipped under the hem of your shirt, cupping and foundling with your breast. As the other trailed down, resting upon your neck. The tightening of your pussy around Optimus’ glossa, made his Spark begging for more.

You were unlike anything he’d ever had. How your soft, organic body molded just oh so perfectly, against his servos and faceplate. The sweet essence of your soaked core, dripping down his glossa- providing a taste that made the Prime wonder how he ever lived this long without it. The sound of your voice moaning his name felt like a beautiful melody to him. A sirens song that you sang only for him.

Your eyes fluttered open, as a breathless gasp slipped from your mouth. Biting your bottom slip, while another moan of Optimus’ name bubbled in your throat. Heat erupted in your core, a burning fire of desire warming your body, as an ache built up between your legs. Your hips rocking against Optimus’ faceplate, as nerves tangled together within your lower adomiain. A wave of pleasure building up, as the Autobot devoured your wet pussy. His glossa gliding in and out of your soaked entrance, lathering up your essence upon his glossa, like he had been stranded in a desert for days. And your body was the oasis, which held the key to a lifesaving nectar.

“Oh...” you whined, as Optimus pulled away, causing your hand to slip down by your sides again. The wave of pleasure slowly settling down, as the fire within your core caused an ache. His servo retreating from underneath your shirt.

“Forgive me, Sweet Spark.” He lowly spoke, wiping your glistening essence off his mouth and chin. Using the back of his servo, “but I need some... relief of my own.”

His servo’s gently caressed your lower back, cradling your soft body as he picked you up. Bringing you closer to him, as Optimus shifted into a standing position.

Your blush radiating a little more warmth upon your cheeks, as your eyes lowered to his modesty plate. Biting your lip a little, as the metal buckled from some hidden pressure behind it.

Optimus’ low groans caught brought your attention back, noticing that the Autobot had trouble stepping over the fence which was on the left side of the of the courtyard. The fence divided the courtyard of the abandoned cathedral, and the community pool next door.

Sitting down upon the overgrown grass, you straddled Optimus’ lap as he bent down and cupped your face. Placing soft, delicate kiss upon the top of your head and forehead. You could feel his modesty buckling more beneath you, as you grinded against the surprisingly light metal.

“Be mine, my love.” His breathless plea brushed against your ear. Causing the fire in your core to burst, as Optimus’ Spark pulsed through his wires, “spend one night with this Prime, and I swear you’ll never want to love another.”

Your hand caressed his cheek, as a loving sigh escaped your lips. “You already make feel like I don’t want another, Optimus Prime. For it’s you who has my heart- my whole heart.”

You slightly adjusted your position, as Optimus removed his modesty plate. Eyes widening as you admired the size of his spike, the flickering flames within your core burned into a heat of want. A fire matching Optimus’ electric pulses of desire.

Positioning himself near your close, using the tip of his spike to tease your throbbing entrance. Servo’s trailing down your torso, feeling every delicate curve as his palms rested against your outer thighs. His digits caressing the soft skin of your ass.

A moan slipping from you, as his spike slipped into your soaking core. Your hands sliding from his faceplate, and onto his chassis. Gripping onto his chest plate, as your velvety walls felt every ribbed inch that Optimus gently thrusted into you.

Optimus’ helm slowly tilted back, as his optics rolled shut. His engine purring, his Spark pulsing, vents cooling as he began to thrust into you. Cables tightened throughout his body, as the sensation of your essence dripping down him, sent Optimus’ processors into a spin. His scanners picking up your racing heart, as his Spark matched its rhythm. A knot begun to tighten deep within your core, as your body adjusted to the Autobot’s size.

Your features flushed red, breasts bouncing with each thrust as you leaned forwards. The water reflecting off the outdoor pool, made the sweat upon your body glimmer slightly, as it dripped down your neck and back. Hair sticking to you, as your forehead rested against Optimus’ chassis, low whimpers and moans leaving your lips, as his hips picked up rhythm.

“Primus! You’re so tight! So wet!”

His digits begun to clench your ass, causing a low hiss to slip from you. Biting your bottom lip, trying to stop a scream of pleasure escape you. As you bounced and grind against his spike, never feeling so stretched yet so full at the same time. Knowing fair well that this mechanical God of a man, has absolutely ruined you. Optimus’ spike plunged into your soaked core, each thrust hitting your cervix harder and harder. Teasing the knot behind it, to come undone.

“Y-You feel so good-”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

A satisfied growl rumbled deep within Optimus’ throat, your breathless command making the pulsing electricity within him, burst like fireworks. His optics fluttering open, as he tried to blink away the lust that glossed over his vision.

“Your body was made for my love, Sweet Spark.” Gripping tightly upon your ass, making your body bounce harder against him. Pushing your hips down and meeting his, the tip of his spike slapping against your g-spot.

“O-Optimus... Optimus!”

Your grip upon his chassis tightened, as the knot in your core caused your legs to quiver. The rocking and thrusting of your hips, turning into an unforgiving pace, as your wave of pleasure began to build. Cables tightened inside Optimus’ body, as his body prepared for an upcoming overload.

“Oh! Oh, fuck.”

A breathless gasp escaped Optimus’, as your soaked core tightened around his throbbing spike. Your body falling against his chassis, as the warm feeling of his trans-fluids painted your insides. His sticky fluid, and your glistening essence covering your thighs and his.

A small whimper left your lips, as Optimus carefully lifted you off his spike. Your heavy breathes fogging up his chassis, as your fingers scratched a little more of his blue paint off. Eyes fluttering, your body slumping against him, as it felt like all the energy and strength was taken from your body. Barely able to lift your head, as you gave the Autobot a contented smile. His vents working overtime, trying to cool down the warmth that radiated from his body.

Cradling you against him, Optimus carefully shuffled towards the pool. Lowering himself into the water, making sure that the level only came to your waist. Both happily sighing as the cool water, felt refreshing against your warm bodies.

“This... feels nice.” Your tone was sleepy, as your head rested against his chest.

“It does.” Optimus placed a soft kiss upon the top of your head. His free servo grabbing a nearby towel, dragging it into the water, and wrapping it around your waist. Giving you a little bit of modesty. “Rest, my Sweet Spark. For I shall watch over you.”

“I love you, Optimus Prime.”

“And I you, Y/N Yeager.”

Tag List

@ursamajor17 @crowleysthings @k----a27s @lainekyuu @manticcashew @goreismyforte @imachaoticghost @person101lol @silverelfy-blog @nataliahemsworth @musicalmedli @buena-lili @imobssesedwithtoomanysheet @skylarstormheart @the-unhinged-raccoon @ag3ntsw8n @moonsua1 @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @silverelfy-blog

#optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x you #bayverse transformers #bayverse optimus x reader #transformers x reader #transformers x you #optimus prime #x reader #bayverse x reader #optimus prime bayverse #transformers fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic writing #transformers #x y/n #x fem!reader #gardens light

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legomonkiefics · 3 months ago

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🪽🩵 Peng, Yellowtusk, and (Jade Emperor) Azure x GN Reader 💛🐘 — Dating HCs 💙🦁

Genres: Romance, Fluff || they/he pronouns for Peng, they/them pronouns for reader || Mild angst, set at the end of S4

@icelordofwinterandwendigos

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🪽🐘🦁୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊

- Around the time Azure became the new Jade Emperor, Peng was nothing but confident. He knew everything was becoming what they planned, and if a little chaos happened to follow, so be it. They felt at this point that they more than deserved the benefits that came with Celestial royalty. And through them telling you all they wanted, they included you as well

- Peng had talked to you a lot about what would change when everything came together in the days leading up to it. Now that you were here, with them all, in the Jade Emperor's palace, he talked a lot about the promises he wanted to fulfill. He wanted to make you more comfortable than you've ever been. To give you the nicest rooms in the palace (to share with him, of course), and the best that royalty could offer

- When things started going downhill and the fighting began, Peng wanted you to stay behind. They were confident still that this would all end in their favor, and told you to just sit back and enjoy the palace

- When they flee from the battle, it was to come back for you. They filled you in on the situation through snark and sneering and offers then and there to carry you out of this situation to safety. There's no way you can help in the fight, so he at least wants to ensure you both make it out in one piece

- Yellowtusk, meanwhile, tended to hover around your side out of worry while in the new Jade Emperor's palace. He tried to warn the other two about the impending problems, but it wasn't getting through to them. He turns to you to talk about the situation, hoping for some support, or at least someone who understands where he's coming from

- He finds comfort in your presence, feeling calmer whenever he's around you. The situation as a whole still troubles him, but with you he feels a little safer and less alone

- When he's out trying to reach the heroes, he's thinking of you the whole time. He wants you to be safe, and he doesn't feel that this is the way to do it. That risking tearing apart the universe itself is only harming you more. So he sets out, looking for a way to fix everything, to keep you protected

- Azure was constantly reassuring you that everything was fine. That despite the cracks and jolts of pain, he was okay, and everything was going exactly as he should. You don't believe it, obviously, but while he accepts any attempted help, he still tries to convince you that it's alright

- Even in his crumbling state, he tries to keep you happy. He talks about all the good this is going to do, how this could help them all and how he's so glad you're a part of it with him

- He is slightly more open with you than he is with Peng or Yellowtusk, though. Even if it's through small comments or faltered expressions, he confides in you just a bit. You help to make him feel this is all worth it, because he's doing this for you as well. You just hope that when this is all over, you can finally convince the great lion to relax

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adracat · 5 months ago

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Law of Casuality Write-Up (Pt.1?)

Warning!!: the following contains self-indulgence to the likes you’ve never seen before

Law of Causality: The proposition that everything in the universe has a cause and is thus an effect of that cause

Happy Sulemio week! Since it’s Fantasy Day, I decided to finally get cracking on this freeform analysis of my G-Witch series— Law of Causality. I’ve mentioned before this may be my favorite thing I’ve ever written. I was in a manic ADHD-fixation trance while writing this series. If you want the literary version of a triple-layer myth cake, this may be for you. I was considering an essay-style dissection but that’s taking too long. So here are my loose insights into this series as a whole!

Art by my friend Tay, or @TaruhtQarineXiV on Twitter

As Above, So Below: Where it all began. I’ve mentioned in the A/Ns that this was spawned from my deep looks into what the show was taking inspiration from (imo). It’s my little love letter to Sulemio and gwitch, which quickly grew into something more.

Queen in White/King in Red—Beyond the alchemy, I wanted titles that sounded fairytale-esque while also hinting toward another mythos. Hastur or the King in Yellow (Signalis and True Detective enjoyers know that name) The initial King in Yellow appears in Haïta the Shepherd as the benevolent god of shepherds; a domain Hastur shares with Mercury. The short story is about the impermanence of happiness and how it can only be found once you stop seeking it. It’s a theme I ran with for the entirety of LoC, particularly Elnora. The later incarnations of Hastur are malicious eldritch figures. Suletta vs Prospera 😊

On Faerytales: LoC is obsessed with cycles and the rhyming of history. To me, fairytales embody that perfectly. The oral traditions of them are never the exact same, flavored with variations throughout the years. It’s how we got mythology to local folklore to Brothers Grimm to Disney renditions. That’s why I used Eros and Psyche and Sleeping Beauty for Suletta and Miorine (I’m convinced the show does this too but ymmv)

The latter is inspired by the former with Psyche placed under a sleeping torpor Eros breaks. In Sleeping Beauty, the offending curse is a spindle and she’s barricaded by a witch in the form of a dragon. The Hawthorn serves as Mio’s ‘spindle’ as she suffers depression and isolation in the wake of her mother’s vanishing. Prospera (coded as witch Satan) is the dragon. Notrette is the fairies bearing gifts. In a twist, Suletta wakes her with Love as Anteros in the place of Eros. Yes I layered this cake excessively. It’s probably still confusing; I’m sorry.

Tldr; I used Sleeping Beauty alongside Greek myth.

Chaos and Night: Paradise Lost twisted into a toxic witch romance. One of the most insane ideas I’ve had, but I adore it to bits. Both Prospera and Notrette are vested to the teeth with mythology and theology.

Notrette: Besides Thelema’s Nuit/Babalon and cuing her as ‘God’, as a being of creation, opposed to the Devil, I fit so much into her character. She’s Lilith, Pandora, Circe, Ceres, Virgin Mary, the Morrigan, Ariadne, a deconstruction of the Mother Goddess from neopaganism, and the capricious Queen of Elphame from folklore.

Another figure I styled her after is White Boann, the Dagda’s mistress and wife to Nechtan (cognate with Nuada or the silver-hand) which is where you get the hazel tree link. Boann names her son Aengus because the Dagda was her ‘one desire’.

Circling back to Paradise Lost, she also plays the willing Eve who falls to Satan’s temptation in place of Miorine. There’s likely things I’m forgetting; I was so normal plotting her character.

Elnora: What can I say about this glorious wreck that wasn’t in the text? Venus, The red dragon Satan, the Beast from revelation, pagan Horned God, Neptune to Ceres, Theseus and Bacchus to Ariadne, Prometheus to Pandora, every Phosphoros, etc I’d be here all day. She’s coded as Orion the hunter who’s undone by Gaia and also the Teumessian fox to Suletta’s Laelaps. I mentioned she’s the riders of the apocalypse at the end too. White Rider is Suletta but her mom fulfills the rest; ‘Riding’ Vim as War, Riding Belmeria as Famine while wielding the ‘scales’ (Notrette as Libra) Finally, she wears the visage of death to bring Pestilence to the kingdom. I squeezed in the other omens of revelation with symbolism such as the crown of wormwood (Revelation 8:11)

When it comes to her role as Prometheus, I coded both Delling and Mio as birds of Venus (swallow and dove respectfully.) It’s meant to symbolize the ‘eagle’ devouring her was primarily herself all along. She was the architect of her ruin, lampshaded by Notrette from the beginning.

Remember Haïta the Shepherd? In the story, there is a maiden whom embodies the ephemeral nature of happiness. Notrette is Elnora’s transformative destruction into cathartic acceptance/happiness. In Paradise Lost, Satan succeeds at banishing Eve and Adam from the garden but similarly fails when he’s turned into a snake. She’s lucky I was more metaphorical.

I liberally used Revelation 12, the woman and the dragon, as well. Look at me shipping crackships from the Bible. This is mostly self-explanatory, ofc Christ is genderbent and a role shared by Sulemio. Mio’s allergy to iron doubles as a nod to this, since she doesn’t take her father’s kingdom in this universe.

There is more, such as Dionysis/Bacchus being a many-faced god with younger and older versions paralleling the Horned God’s dual aspects and the Dagda’s relationship to Aengus which led to me pitting Suletta as a lighter mirror of Elnora. But I’ll leave it here for now.

Writing this all out has me questioning what I was on, and how I can reproduce it. If you got this far, thank you for humoring my unabahed love for this world. Happy Fantasy Day, Sulemios! ❤️

#g witch #where Adra gushes over her own nonsense #gundam witch from mercury #adracatwrites #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #sulemio #as above so below #the witch from mercury #prospera mercury #notrette rembran #sulemioweek24

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thedastravelerer · 11 days ago

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I just finished the Dragon Age Veilguard and I need to scream my thoughts into the internet void.

My Rook, Lucrezia, was bought along with other kids by the house de Riva when she was 3 years old. She doesn't remember anything before that. When her magic manifested at the age of 8, she begged Viago not to send her to the Circle. Viago saw great potential in the little elven chaos gremlin, so he decided to hire private tutors for her. From the age of 14, she became Viagos apprentice, accompanying him everywhere. Her sunny, bubbly personality was a great distraction in social settings. She was the Robin and Viago was the Batman, basically.

Inquisitor romanced Solas.

So that is the viewpoint, from which I experienced the game.

The good:

The music is AMAZING

The environments are gorgeous

Spellblade is sooo much fun. The perfect mix of rogue and mage.

Treviso is so beautiful. I am never saving Minrathous. That sh*thole can get swallowed by the ocean.

The final missions were great. The tension, the loss, the heartbreak, the betrayal—10/10. No notes.

Baby griffons

The conversations/dynamic between Lucanis/Spite and Taash crack me up

The dynamic between Viago and Lucrezia was everything I could have hoped for. I still laugh when I remember the letter from Viago starting with "IDIOT".

Viago and Teia—I would die for them. Every time they flirt, I picture Lucrezia sticking fingers into her ears and going LALALALA. I don't want those pictures in my head.

Harding wins the competition for the prettiest room in the Lighthouse.

I love the little offhand comments and banter between all of the Crows. It was fun to hear Lucanis or Lucrezia randomly mention Viago or Teia. It really painted a picture of them knowing each other for a long time and being able to poke fun at each other.

I loved Lucanis as a character. Also, the 3-way relationship between Rook-Spite-Lucanis is perfect. I loved that when Lucanis learns about Caterina being alive, he shuts down and Spite is like: "What?! Why are you putting more locks into our prison? I AM GETTING ROOK! :D

The "Solas therapy" ending was heartwarming (and also a bit funny)

I loved Solas as a character. I see, why he is the god of trickery and lies. And how his wisdom turned into pride. I just wish I could slap that stubborn liar. Just once.

You know it is real love when you spent the last few hours chomping on an archedemon and your Vhenan still kisses you.

I liked the relationship progression between Davrin and Lucanis. They went from open hostility to mutual respect to drinking buddies.

Lucanis questioning Bellara and Neve about their business decisions was hilarious. Crows are first and foremost business people.

Isseyas storyline. I just wish they delved deeper into her story instead of getting an infodump. I enjoyed seeing how the blight twisted her grief and regrets. How she remembered only her love for the griffons she saved. And the blight corrupted that love, forcing her into horrible mistakes.

The bad:

The story is so shallow in comparison to previous games. All of the nuance is gone. There is no Loghain, no Meredith and Orsino, no Anders. Everyone is either the good guy or the bad guy. Maybe except for the Butcher and Isseya.

A lot of the darker, complicated, interesting themes are ignored. After the Antaam Qunari (Sten in DAO), the Ben-Hassrath Qunari (Bull in DAI) we finally meet a scholar of Qun and we get NOTHING interesting from her. We can't have a deeper conversation about the Qun. We can't even talk about her hypocrisy of running away from the very rules she forces on Taash. The Antaam are the a$$holes and everyone else following the Qun is good. Until they disagree with their assigned role in life and get their mind broken until they fit the mold again. But we don't get to learn that.

Who TF is Anaris? Why is he the Forgotten One? What does it even mean? What beef did he have with the Evanuris? We don't get to learn that. We get MWHAHAHA I AM SOOO EVIL. Boring and disappointing. It would have been much more interesting if he convinced Cyrian his sister was a pawn for the Dread Wolf. There could have been a conflict between elves choosing Anaris, who promised them power after their gods turned out to be a$$holes, and elves choosing a new, free path.

Are we not going to address the EXECUTIONER in the room? Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he totally cool working a desk job in the Necropolis?

We finally see Kal-Sharok and we learn almost nothing about the dwarves living there. How did they survive? How do they govern themselves? What is the culture like?

I don't understand the Titan powers Harding has. Like, I get the concept, but the details are confusing.

I am sick of the words "ritual" and "artifact"

The quests "press button in three places" or "destroy/place crystals so they link/unlink" were a bit repetitive.

Characters sometimes have lapses in memory. Ferelden has fallen to the blight, but Emmerich and Harding are going camping there... Mmmmkay. Rook, baby, you have used the teleport vortex like three times before. We have 2 in the Lighthouse.

I love Lucanis, but his romance is very undercooked. I get, that he pushes a lot of emotions down, and flirting is just another weapon the Crows use to get to their targets. But we see no inner turmoil in banter, no notes wondering about Rook. He touches Rook exactly once - in the romance scene at the very end. They never even address the almost kiss.

The brutality of the life of Crow recruits is smoothed over to be nice and family-like. We are talking about an organization that buys enslaved children and forces them into hunger games to shape them into elite assassins.

The widespread Tevinter slavery is mentioned minimally. The only mention might be the codex of Dorians speech in the Magisterium. Their whole social system is built on slavery and caste system. We don't get to talk to Neve about any of it.

Most of the helmets are hideous.

The "stealing cultural stuff is wrong and we, the pirates and treasure hunters, are not doing it. We are the good guys!" talk you have with Taash right when you meet her was so jarring. Like, it makes sense, because Isabella is in charge. It would have been funnier and less preachy if they went with "We don't steal cultural stuff, because Isabella stole something from the Qunari once and it was a sh*tshow".

No dirt, no persistent gore

You don't get to have deep conversations with your followers. Instead, you get to read their diaries and letters in the codex. I felt like a creep snooping through their notes and letters to each other. Same feeling with the Lighthouse banter.

I miss the more abrasive followers. Everyone is high on friendship. Why is no one protesting against the demon-possessed assassin cooking all of our meals? Why isn't Bellara more wary about the Tevinter mage? Emmerich gets a lot of sh*t for the creepiness, but nobody questions the morality of using body parts as Legos.

I wish we could choose a class for the Inquisitor. She looked so ridiculous and out of place in the last fight. She is one of the most fearsome fighters in Thedas and she wears the blandest outfit possible. She isn't even armed.

We find out the Andrastian faith is a fairytale and no one except Harding comments on it? All of the human followers grew up in Andrastian cultures. Religion forms the structure of society, customs, inner values, viewpoints on the world, and what is considered "normal" on a subconscious level. In DAI you have a conversation with Josephine about how the Andrastian faith provides common ground for negotiations across cultures. Cassandra walks through an elven temple that is older than her religion and still wonders who could believe this nonsense. Why aren't you more upset, people?!

I am going to pretend the post-credit scene didn't happen. You will not soil the beautiful tragedies of the very human mistakes and choices the imperfect characters like Loghain made. I will not accept some demon whispering over the wonderful multi-faceted people and their rises and falls. F*ck you.

The bug, where the game loads the preset character instead of your custom Rook is annoying and didn't get fixed by the patch.

I hate the UI with a passion

No grey streaks in Inquisitors hair is a crime.

I hate the underwater view in Rooks room. I have an irrational fear of deep waters and sea life. The Ossuary is a prison of my nightmares.

I hate the redesign of the demons. They look like dementors with their robes open.

It is not clear how long was Rook trapped in the prison of regrets.

Anyway... rant over. I enjoyed the game like I enjoy the Marvel movies. With half of my brain turned off.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age spoilers #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #rant post #dragon age screenshots #dragon age rook #lucrezia de riva #screaming thoughts into the void #meh #antivan crows #crow rook #rook de riva #pretty but mostly empty

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curiositydooropened · 1 year ago

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Wildfire • Inferno

The last march into the Ether is fraught with uncertainty. You stumble forward, partner and friends by your side.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains gore and horror, including character injury and allusions to character death. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Six: Combustion

---

THEN

May 1988

The woods sprawled forever, rows of monotonous chaos stretched to a sunless sky. You scrambled through, boots squelching in inexplicably moist soil as you toed over the twist of vines and fallen limbs. A shock of orange guided your way, a light in the greyscale abyss, just out of reach, dipping into underbrush and up the hillside.

You’d made this trek through dozens of times, the steady climb from Roane County Farms to Mary Hill Lane. Countless nights of your youth were spent feeding cows apples from your pockets and scurrying home before the sun crested its final valley.

You knew the resemblances were eery. The first time you’d stepped into this horrible place, the first time you felt the pull at your navel and the spin in your skull, you’d been nauseated by the carbon copy version of the town you called home. Grocery stores and public libraries crumbled beneath the weight of disembodied tentacles. City sidewalks crumbled beneath your feet. And even after all this time, after countless trips through the portal into the Hellscape, the similarities to your childhood never ceased to unsettle your stomach and itch like anxiety in your chest.

A different panic clawed there now, making the ascent more difficult. Your pack weighed you down, and your mask hung from your throat, lungs burning with strain and inhaling toxic air.

“Vickie!” You cried out for her again, your voice hoarse and cracked. A handful of mulch fell away to make room for your boot, and you pulled yourself up through the tree line and onto Mary Hill Lane.

The asphalt was torn up, a pot hole down the center of the little lane, right where they’d patched it that summer you turned 8. You used to take turns jumping it on your bikes. Once, Vickie hit the lip, and her frail little body went flying over the handlebars. You watched the blood ooze from her knobby knees in horror, and admitted delight, and helped her limp her bicycle two doors down to her house.

A wave of orange flickered in your periphery, and you steeled your breath. Two houses down, with pale yellow siding and a metal storm door, was your best friend’s childhood home. It hadn’t changed since her family moved to the little neighboring town of Hawkins. The tree out front was a little taller, the grass a little sparser, and of course the entire facade was succumbing to the overgrowth of demonic vines that curled and whipped beneath the shutters and peeled back the roofing tiles.

There was a residual off to the Ether, the dip in your stomach that never left once you’d crossed the gaping maw threshold, but now, staring up at a home you grew up in, the off settled into your ribcage like a bad breakfast. “Vickie,” you whispered, following your feet to her driveway. “What the Hell are you thinking?”

You reached over your shoulder to remove the flamethrower from its holster. Your hands shook around the cold metal. You tried to even out your breathing, panic clinging like condensation to your neck.

Bang! Something large smacked against the garage door, rattling the whole thing on its hinges.

You scrambled backwards, foot slipping on a rogue bit of gravel. You gasped, catching your fall before you heard another loud thwack to the door.

Then you saw her. Grimy, fogged glass lined one of the garage panels, through which you caught the terrified look of your best friend, a shock of orange and pale skin.

You called out to her, ran to the door, smacked your fingers against the glass.

“No,” she shook her head, slamming her hands into the other side of the wall. “Get out of here! Run!”

“Vick? What’s going on?” You shook your head. “Are you trapped? Stand back, I’m going to torch it.” You squared up, readjusting the trigger behind your forefinger.

“No!” She cried out again. “You don’t understand. You need to run.”

“Is there something in there?” You asked, trying to peer between her and a stack of boxes to look within the confines of the garage.

“Yes.” She said. “Me.”

She disappeared for a moment before she lifted the garage door, one strong push to expose herself and the rotting boxes abandoned beside her.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You growled, dropping the weapon to your side.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” she said, stance square. There was something in her eye that tickled at the base of your skull, sent a shiver down your spine.

“Vic?”

“Really, your friend held on for so long. She really tried to fight. The two of you had years of good memories for me to lose her in.”

Years of training stalled your reaction, running through your mind in reverse, hours spent on the Scorch course echoing in your skull. You raised your weapon again, and her name left your throat in a whisper.

“You wouldn’t burn sweet, innocent Vickie would you?” She took wide strides your direction, hands in the pockets of her pants. “Not here. Remember when we called this place home. You and I?”

You scrambled for the walkie on your shoulder, hands trembling. “Team Lead to Scorch team, requesting emergency evac.”

“Yes, yes, bring in the troops,” she smirked, something miserable and uncanny, something so un-her.

Steve’s voice echoed through the speaker, startling you. “Where are you?”

“Roane County, Mary Hill Lane. Quarantine required.”

“Her old house? Is Vickie okay? Vickie?” Robin’s voice called out before Steve cut her off.

“Copy that. We’re on our way.”

“R-Robin?” Vickie’s voice broke, and you noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Her teeth were grit, fists clenched and shaking at her sides.

You caught her gaze, eyes filled with terror, and took a few steps closer.

“NO!” She cried out, holding a hand up to stop you. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled over, tracked through the ash on freckled cheeks. She whispered your name, bottom lip trembling beneath her two front teeth. “You have to do it.”

“Vickie, no. Just hold on. Steve and Robin will be there soon. We’ll take you back and -”

“It’s too late,” her voice cracked. “He’s in here, and I can’t hold him back much longer. You know I love you, right?”

“Vickie, stop it.” You shook your head, tasting salt. You didn’t realize you’d started crying as well.

“Please?”

You shook your head again, obstinate, every bit of you fighting the pleading look in her eyes, fighting the sad smile on her face, fighting the way she said your name.

—

NOW

October 1988

Your blindfold was made of wool, something thick and itchy against your nose and the tips of your ears. You scratched at it, exposing a sliver of light, and you hand was promptly snatched away.

“Will you stop that?” Steve huffed, voice a warm rumble to your left year.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you grumbled.

Your anxiety had peaked the moment he put it on, relieved only temporarily when he pressed his lips against yours. Then, you were promptly carted down the clanging elevator and shoved past a sea of whispers until a heavy steel door was opened, and brisk autumn air caressed your cheeks.

The familiar rumble of a truck bed chattered your bones, knees knocking against various others’. You sat in silence, sensing a handful of watchful eyes. You were desperate to ignore the gnawing at your brainstem, the villain clawing himself to the surface, desperate for air, for a hint. You focused, instead, on your breathing, on the warmth of Steve’s hand in your own, of the buzz in your fingertips and the weight of something that had been strapped to your back.

Steve’s grip tightened as you came rolling to a halt. Engines idled. The smell of diesel fuel burned at your nostrils. Your stomach churned.

Your partner pulled you upright with a strong hand beneath your armpit, and you teetered on your feet as the balance shifted with each body that jumped from the bed to the dusty ground below.

“Wait here,” he muttered, and then released your hand.

Panic curled into your organs. You reached out for him again, listening for the fall of his feet. Cold replaced him beside you. The ground shifting beneath you. You extended your toe until it hit something, a wheel-well, by the sound of it, maybe a tailgate.

A hand found yours again and pulled you to the cool metal. The machine trembled beneath your clammy fingertips.

“Sit here, swing your legs over. I’m going to catch you, okay?”

“I don’t need to be caught,” you scoffed, though you followed instructions, feet dangling over the bed’s ledge until you slid into Harrington’s strong grip.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, gentling setting your feet to pavement.

You shoved at his chest, and promptly chased him until his hand slipped firmly into yours again.

“Dudes!” A familiar voice called from not-too-far away, and you felt yourself led toward them.

A fist tapped your shoulder, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana filled your senses.

“Argyle?” You smiled.

“You got it, dude.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, remember that time we played those pranks on Munson?”

The levity of his sentiment didn’t match the intensity of the situation you were all stepping into, and it caught you off guard. Your memory strained to strum up images of hiding Eddie’s notebook and replacing it with a replica you and Argyle had doodled crude images in. That felt a lifetime ago, when you were all just kids caught up in a war you didn’t understand.

“Well, that gave me the idea to doodle a dick on the dragon on his new notebook.” Argyle spoke it like a confession, whispered to you from around your veil, words muffled by the thick fabric.

You crinkled your nose. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he barked out a laugh. “So you’ll have to come back to see the look on his face when he sees it.”

The fear that had settled like a pit in your gut fluttered a little, a glimmer of a heartbeat added to the future you weren’t certain you’d have.

“Deal,” you choked out, and you felt a hand reach into yours to shake on it.

“Harrington!” Someone yelled from a few yards away, and you free hand was tugged with careful instructions to follow. You bid Argyle goodbye and stumbled after Steve, slow steps dragged along dusty streets.

You couldn’t tell the direction, though something deep in you longed for them. Something wondered if you could peer beneath the blindfold and make out a location based on the stones you kicked along with the steel toes of your boots. Something sensed the wind caressing your cheeks, your chest, wondered if it blew in an Easterly direction.

Another warm body pulled up beside you, blocking the wind. Your shoulders fell in gratitude. You hadn’t realized you’d hiked them up.

“Mind if I lean on you?” Byers muttered, wrapping a soft hand against the crook of your elbow.

You shook your head and accommodated for his weight. You noticed a limp in the sound of his walk, slowed your gait to match his. Another spring of panic fluttered at your chest. “No offense, Jonathan, but… should you be going on this mission? How’s your leg?” You squeezed Steve’s hand on your other side.

He squeezed back.

“Remember that day we took bets on the mats? The one where you wiped the floor with Harrington?”

“Alright,” Steve huffed on your other side.

You snickered, remembering the flow of cash into the hands of your best friends. High fives were exchanged. Munson had set up a hydration station in your corner to fan you off between rounds.

“I won like five hundred bucks thanks to you, you know?” Byers spoke softly beside you, breath a little labored.

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed back a lump. “Sounds like a deserve a cut of that.”

He laughed at that, Steve too. “Yeah, you do. Here’s the deal. You kick major ass in there, I’ll give you three hundred.”

“Double or nothing?” Steve said over your head.

“Deal,” Jonathan chuckled and squeezed again at the meat of your bicep. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Your voice sounded hoarse. When Jonathan released you, you nearly halted your walk to stay with him, but Steve tugged you along with a firm grip, and you stayed in line with the footfall all around you.

You kept your eyes squeezed closed, resisting the temptation to gain some sort of bearing. You thought of Argyle’s doodles and Byers the bookie and tried to push back the emotion clawing to escape you.

Then you felt it, the pull. You’d felt it before, dozens of times, that warped tug of gravity that started from behind your navel and led you onwards and upside downwards. It had to be close. You felt the pulse of a gaping maw as if it were your own, the steady thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. Or two heartbeats, in tandem to the pulse you felt in Steve’s wrist against your own. Or three heartbeats, the rhythm of dozens of soldiers falling into line.

A familiar voice called your name from up ahead, and you heard the stamping of feet as someone approached, others moving out of their way. “Hey,” Wheeler breathed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing yet?”

You couldn’t respond, overcome with emotion and terror, that call of the Ether drawing you closer with each step.

Nancy fell in sync beside you. “Remember our first run in the Scorch course? Me, you, Vickie, Robin?”

You remembered being terrified at the prospect of setting monsters ablaze. You remembered spying an intimate “good luck” between Steve and Nancy before she went in with you. You remembered Vickie and Robin exchanging nervous smiles. You remembered sweaty palms around a weapon you’d never used, and you remembered the heat that licked at your skin.

“We did it in record time, and they were still extinguishing three hours later.”

“Nancy, I…” You weren’t sure what to say, exactly, couldn’t understand the meaning.

“Us girls have to stick together.” She stuck a bony elbow to your side, then she shouted. “Ready? Let’s go. Battle stations, everyone. You know what to do.”

You heard the unsettling squelch of vines, the clearing of a membrane from the jaws of the gate, and the tug of your arm halted you. “Steve?” You muttered. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going in,” his breath was warm against your ear, and he brought your hand to his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, racing your own to the finish line you couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom.

Your mouth was dry. Things within you battled: the urge to turn heel and run and the urge to go diving headfirst into the Ether, into the frigid embrace.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Steve, are we ready?” Nancy called from several feet away, voice drowned by the thundering in your ears.

“You have to fight him, okay? I promise I will protect you, but you have to promise me you’ll fight back, that you won’t give up. Do you promise me?” He was holding your face now, large hands on either cheek, and you longed to see his brown eyes again, that furrow between his brow.

“I promise,” you nodded, and his lips were against yours, hot and soft, and then they weren’t, and you were chasing for his touch.

He hooked something into your belt, and you felt cold plastic, with a long cord attached. “Whatever you do, don’t take your blindfold off, or these,” he tugged headphones over your head, the foam around the ears amplifying the pounding of your heart. “I will stay as close to you as I can, but you just need to trust that I’ll be there to protect you. Are you ready?”

Again, the opposing forces within you pulled in separate directions. All at once, your senses will filled with pop music and panic that you had to swallow back as Steve took you by the hand and led you once more toward the door between worlds.

—

The Ether smelled damp, like mildew, the rotting flesh of vegetation left to spoil. It tasted of ash and ruin. Static lingered in the air, clung clothes to your skin. The music in your ears was muffled, somehow, like there was too much room for sound waves to travel, so they thinned out and became tinny. The blindfold itched at your nose, and you stood alone, cold, in a void.

You tried to focus on the happy memories your friends had presented to you, but with every chill that wracked through you, all you thought of was her.

That shock of orange had been extinguished, had vanished into the grime of this Earth, had smoked out. Happy memories of her turned to ash at your fingertips, laughter to choked screams.

Then, you smelled gasoline, sweet and strong. You were used to the fumes, that chemical after burn with each torch of the flamethrower, but this was stronger. This stung at your nostrils, made your mouth water. You took a few steps forward to ensure you hadn’t stepped in it and were waiting for someone to light a match.

You felt dizzy with it, that wobble as you walked. You called out for Steve, unable to hear your own voice though the music. You received no response, felt no tug on your arm, no warm hand to your waist. You were only cold, and you were all alone.

He’d left you. He made a promise he couldn’t keep, just like Vickie had, and you supposed like you had to them.

Then came the rumble, that slow wave of nausea that drifted from far-off, from mountain tops and Great Lakes, that cosmic sway of land that chattered your teeth and sent you off-kilter, to your knees. You caught yourself on a hand, feeling the snap of your wrist beneath your weight as the Earth continued to rock beneath you. You cried out, though you couldn’t hear it over shrill music.

Then you felt it, the searing agony of torched vines, every vein and nerve ending ablaze, punching the air from your lungs. Screams rippled through you, not yours but the screams of others, of them, agonizing, writhing in horror, screams from gaping mouths with rows and rows of jagged teeth, and you were them and they were you, and you felt it all.

You thought you might rip in two from the pain, maybe you already had, and you lie prone against a cold, hard ground, willing your body to push it away. Everything in you scorched, and everything in you begging to fight. How could you fight fire? How could you fight an unseen force?

Desperate for air, you ripped your blindfold from your face and stared up into a storm-filled sky. Bright red lightning flashed inside a black, billowing cloud. Your eyes ached at the orange glow, and when you turned your head, you came face-to-face with an entire forest ablaze.

It caught like wildfire, an inferno that scorched the Earth. Beautiful bright whites and yellows, oranges and reds painted the night sky, casting the forest in silhouette as limbs groaned and trees crashed down upon an army of soldiers.

You sucked in a breath, sputtering to the sand as you rolled over to gain your footing. Your wrist cried out under your weight, but your vision had shifted again.

It was as though you ran through the woods, double time, rushing to escape the fire. It was as though you flew through smoke filled skies. Your targets wore tactical attire and carried flamethrowers on their backs, and millions of teeth sunk into them, filling your mouth with the taste of their blood.

Something found your ankle, a thick vine that wrapped itself there and pulled until you slammed back into the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut and kicked at it until you felt the satisfying squelch, the burst of ice cold liquid, and you scrambled away until another could find you.

Then your eyes were on him: Steve torching the wood. His face was tanned, dripping with sweat and grime. He picked up a barrel and threw it into the trees, shielding his face from the explosion as Nancy cocked her rifle and hit her target. Only, you were looking at Steve from an odd angle, and you reached out a clawed hand toward him.

“Steve!” You cried out, but it was too late. The demogorgon’s claws pulled through his chest to the bone.

Nancy fired rounds into the creature until it had backed into a truck. From there, it was blown to pieces.

You watched them now, from a few yards away, unable to lift yourself from the ground. She tended his wounds, and he staggered, glancing your direction. Tears stung in your eyes. Somewhere nearby, a song echoed through tattered headphones. Behind your eyelids, allies were being ripped open, guts spilling to the forest floor, but the fire raged on.

—

The pain subsided, and all was numb and black and void.

You sat at a desk, sunlight filtering in through a window overlooking the woods. You had a pencil in one hand. Times tables were etched into the paper in front of you. The lines of the numbers flipped and blurred, and you stuffed your tongue between your teeth in frustration. God, you were so stupid.

Your mother called from down the hall. Dinnertime.

You set your pencil down, and it rolled across the desk top before halting against a terrarium.

You stood and stretched, rubbed at bleary eyes. You pulled your sweater from the back of your chair and swung it over bare shoulders.

You crossed to your door, traced the wallpaper in your hallway with fingertips like you did every evening.

Dad’s chair was empty as you passed the living room. The television played something dull and quiet, reruns.

You rounded to the dining room, table stacked with food for two. Dad must be on another work trip.

Light filtered in through the sliding glass door. Winter had just begun. The leaves had all browned and fallen. The trees stood like soldiers, all limbs and armor.

You took your seat at the table and sipped the carbonation from your soda. The bubbles fizzed at your nose, and you itched at it before dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to your plate.

A slam at the glass door startled you, and you looked up to find Vickie. She looked different, old and grizzled. Her jaw was sharper, the muscles in her arms more defined. She rolled her eyes and peeled the door open. It rolled on its track, and she let herself in.

“This is where he’s keeping you?”

“Wh-what?” You blinked back at her, wondering if the times tables had messed with your head.

“Vecna, come on, idiot. You’re flayed. He’s got you by the strings, and he holed you up in the third grade for some reason. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?”

Her words processed like sludge, letters mixing and swapping like they had on the page.

She leaned over to dip her finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes. She tasted it and blanched, spewing the soft white back onto your plate. “Jesus, there are some tricks he really can’t master. Now come on, we don’t have much time. You need to snap out of this.”

She tugged at your wrist, and you cried out, a sharp pain zipping through you. You stared down at the tender and bruising limb.

“That’s a good start,” she nodded. She glanced out at the backyard, forehead creasing in thought before clicking her fingers together. “Quick, think about Steve.”

“Who?” You winced, nursing the dull ache in your wrist with a gentle touch.

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.”

“What?” Everything felt fuzzy, a slog of jumbled words that fell from soft lips and onto deaf ears. You hadn’t remember Mom giving you cough syrup, but perhaps you had a cold.

With a groan, Vickie grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you from your seat. She shook you a little. “Come on, damnit, remember. You aren’t here in your mom’s kitchen, you’re in the Ether. The Scorch Team is blowing it up. A demogorgon got Steve, and I have a feeling he’s going to die if you don’t snap out of this.”

“Steve?”

You saw a flash of him staggering toward you, Kevlar shredded, blood tainting the inner corners of his perfect lips.

“Steve!” You cried out, but you were back in the dining room. The breaker had been flipped, everything dark, everything caked in a layer of rot and decay. Everything but Vickie.

“Nicely done,” she grinned, yanking at the sliding glass door. “Let’s get out of here!”

You didn’t hesitate to follow, staring up at the sky scapes of your mind as they began to implode. The woods beyond turned to the craggy, rocky shores of your grandmother’s beach house, and as you stepped through the bog water that had filled your backyard, everything turned to concrete and asphalt and tar.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Vickie’s sneakers slapped against the tarmac as she ran toward the compound.

You took off after her, wind sweeping at you like wispy tendrils, desperate to hold you in place. “What do we do now? How do we trap him?”

“I don’t think we do,” she responded. “It’s kind of like a lucid dream. You’re in charge in here. We just have to get rid of all the places he can hide.” She bypassed a passcode to unlock a familiar steel door and held it open for you to go inside.

You entered the small hallway, floor-to-ceiling munitions lockers. “And how do we do that?”

“Well,” one locker opened with a creak, “they’re blowing his shit up on the outside. Maybe it’s time to turn the heat up in here, too.” She reached in and procured a flamethrower.

—

You scorched the Earth. You set fire to the Roan River bed where Vickie had tumbled. You set fire to the little covered bridge and all the horrors that lay within. You set fire to the little farmhouse where you lost her. You set fire to the woods that surrounded your childhood home, to the little fenced in backyard, the rope and plank that swung from the oak down the street. You torched the roof and watched it crumble inward over mashed potatoes and the tv turned to static in the corner. You watched the pages of a times table curl and fall to dust.

“Making record time,” Vickie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder. “Just like Nancy said. Us girls really do make a good team.”

She turned from you and began to jog down the little lane, pack bouncing, light on her feet as though the world wasn’t crashing down around her.

When you didn’t follow, she turned, fire lighting her eyes, and gestured for you to join. “You coming or what?”

The flames made no sound as they consumed your house, a dreamscape of embers in reds and oranges and yellows to the ringing in your ears. The roof fell first, like the house that nearly ate Steve, and then the windows burst and the walls came next. As the fire spilled out across the front yard, chewing at tires and overtaking flowerbeds, you stumbled backwards to join Vickie in the lane.

“One last stop,” she promised, intertwining her fingers in your own.

“How do you know that’s enough?” You asked with a frown, wheezing a cough into your free hand. Your wrist ached, and the purpling bruise was beginning to crawl up your arm. Your chest felt tight, and the faster you ran, the harder it felt to breathe. The smell of gasoline filled your nostrils.

“We’re running out of time,” she smiled sadly and turned into the driveway of her own childhood home, the place you found her, the place you watched the life leave her eyes.

“Vickie,” you warned, screeching to a halt just at the end of the driveway, where concrete turned to rubble. Looking to your left, you saw the pothole. To the right, flames had spilled to the neighbor’s house.

“Don’t be a baby. This is his favorite place to hide. We have to make it uninhabitable.” She explained, stacking lawn furniture to a pile between the garage and house.

It was his favorite place to hide because it was your worst memory, the place you refused to go back to, the truths you kept hidden under lock and key.

Something went boom far in the distance. Your ears rang again, and they hurt. Something hot and wet splattered your right cheek. You reached up to find blood spilling from your ear. “Vickie!”

“Hurry!” She removed her pack, added it to the pile.

“What’re you doing?” You crossed the driveway as she opened a can of lighter fluid from beside the grill and began trailing it across the closed garage door. She splashed some onto her shoes. The cuffs of her pants were soaked in it. “Be careful!”

She looked up at you then, a sadness behind the mischief in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s me. He’s hiding himself in me. I’m the safe space for him. He knows you’ll never touch me. You’ll hide from him in the good memories: the pranks with Eddie, the bets with Jonathan, the sing-a-longs with Robin. He’ll hide from you here, with me.”

Another boom rocked the world around you in ripples. Scratches clawed themselves into your right side, your cheek, your chest, your arm as shrapnel lodged itself within your skin.

Vickie rushed to your side, wiped blood from your cheek with a thumb. “Hey, I love you, and I will always be with you in your heart and your good memories, but this?” She gestured to the pile of furniture, to the scorch mark in the drive. “You need to let this go.”

You wheezed another cough, violence that clawed at your insides, squeezing every drop from you.

“Go back to Steve. Get yourself out of this Hell hole, as far away as you can, you hear me? Get married, have a dozen babies. Follow your dreams. Live the life I didn’t get to. Promise me?” She touched her nose to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you managed, though tears blurred your vision and smoke choked at your lungs.

She kissed your forehead and took ten paces back, until her feet were touching the spilled can of fluid that had begun to weep down the driveway. “You promise?” She called.

You nodded, hands trembling as you lifted the flamethrower. “Promise.”

“Good,” her face lit with that mischievous grin, a smile of peace and of love, and she maintained it as the flames engulfed her.

—

Your ears rang, and your body thrummed, and every nerve in your body stood at attention. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline stung acrid in your nostrils. You blinked your eyes open, expecting the bright oranges of flames and finding only grey, only smoke, and then two big, brown eyes.

Steve came crashing into focus, and you pulled him into you with desperate hands. The side of his face was torn and bleeding. Thick, dark red spilled down his jaw and throat to gaping cuts across his chest and abdomen, but he was crouched over you, and he was mouthing something. No, maybe he was screaming.

He looked beyond you before he covered you with his body, and you felt the rain of something down on top the both of you.

After a long moment’s rest, you shoved at him, desperate to find his eyes again, and he sat up and looked around before he pulled you both to your feet.

The Ether was chaos all around you, a cloud of smoke and ash. Soldiers and monsters alike disappeared and reappeared through the cloud in flashes of thunder-less lightning and the splatter of blood.

You ducked into the crook of Steve’s arm and followed his lead as he ran, both of you a little wobbly, dodging vehicles and bodies.

He tripped over a vine, and you caught him under the arm, pulling him upright again so you could continue your journey. He stopped, peering around once more, shouting into the smoke cloud with a hand over his mouth until he was doubled over in a wheezing cough. You covered your own mouth with the crook of your elbow, but the smoke was too much, and the oxygen too small.

You threw yourself to the ground and pulled him too, breathing what air lie between particles of sand in the empty lake bed.

Steve lie beside you, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and defeat, and he leaned sideways to thumb blood from a stinging wound on your cheek.

That’s when you noticed the vines. Thick, black, oozing with ichor and something fouler smelling than the ash and smoke, these vines were reaching for something, crawling for air of their own.

You yanked on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to them, and the two of you crawled after the vines to the edge of a gaping wound in the sandbar.

The membrane had been popped and water bubbled below, steady waves that brought forth the prospect of life, of fresh air, of home.

Steve threaded his fingers through yours and nodded, spoke words you couldn’t hear. “I won’t let go.”

You nodded and took as deep a breath as you could muster before diving headfirst through the portal to the waters below.

—

Righting yourself felt different without gravity, the weightless tug of your body that begged to be back on the other side, back where up was up and down was down. But here? In the void of frigid cold and screaming wounds, of empty lungs? Your body and your brain couldn’t comprehend anything but out and now.

Steve’s hand remained in yours, though you couldn’t see past the blur of dark and sting in your eyes. So you just kicked and pulled at the space around you, weightless and yet too heavy all at once.

Something wrapped itself around your ankle, but you just kept kicking, feet as paddles and anchors.

You wrist ached, the numbing pull of something as Steve tried to yank you upward, and then you felt his arm around your waist and then your knee, and he was fighting something off, and then nothing. Then he was gone and his warmth and his weight, and your body was surging you upwards and outwards and now as fast as you can.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your lungs screamed and your soul ached and your heart hurt, but when you burst through that surface and through your head back and filled your lungs at least that was right again.

You slapped your hands to the surface in an effort to stay afloat, and you gasped and sputtered and took in the fresh, clean air.

Starlight glinted above you, miles and miles upward, not shying beyond clouded skies. God, you’d missed them.

You floated for a moment, on your back, body screaming for rest, exhausted, eyes drifting closed while you drifted like a log on the water’s surface. Alone and weightless, but free and alive and alone.

Alone. You sputtered, coughed out water that spilled in through your nostrils, and when it had cleared, you looked frantically around you for Steve.

Your distress caused ripples in the water, ripples in reflected starlight, ripples alone.

You took a deep breath, weak, lungs pained, and dove. Your eyes stung and the darkness filled everything below the surface, so you reached out with frantic arms until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and your body rocketed you back up for another gasp of air.

You cried out for Steve, a wheezing sound that had you coughing again. Your teeth chattered. You could barely hear your own voice above the ringing in your ear.

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline.

You swam to him, one stroke at a time, aching legs kicking until the tips of your fingers met the back of his head, and you turned him to face you. Liquid poured from his open mouth, the sweet curve of his lips.

You pulled him under your arm and dug in hard to the silt and soil, pulling him up and over the banks where cattails bloomed and crickets chirped. You pulled yourself up too, both of your bodies scraping the sand.

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

You ripped open what was left of his shirt, bits of material sticking to his shredded skin. You held back a cry and interlaced your fingers. Your wrist screamed, bruising crawling to your elbow. Gingerly, the palm of your hands found his sternum, and you began compressions.

“You have to stay with me because I love you, and I can’t do this without you.” You tried to keep time to the adrenaline thundering your heartbeat in your skull.

More liquid spilled from his lips.

“No!” You cried out. “Stay with me. Damnit, Harrington!”

You clenched your jaw until something snapped, a tooth, maybe his ribs, maybe your arm, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop.

—

Your throat was so dry, a swallow that burned down your esophagus like sand paper. Your insides smarted with it. Everything was red, too bright, vicious like wildfire. You winced, turned your face to shield yourself from the light.

The beeping got louder, a steady rhythm that matched the thump-thump of your heart in your skull only fuzzier, dials turned down, a bit of static ebbing and flowing like waves, a current.

Then you heard a mumble, or at least, it sounded like a voice. No, two voices muttered to one another from over top of you, one louder, clearer, the other soft, strangled, too-far away.

“Have you been here all night?”

“If they try to pull me away from this bedside, I’ll kill them.”

“Have they woken up yet?”

“Not yet. No one can tell me if that’s good or bad. Do medical charts make sense to you?”

“Let me see.”

Something clattered beside you, too close to your head, and your reflexes startled your eyes open. You winced to find everything was no longer red, but stark white and too bright, and your eyelids were crusted over and burned. You groaned and shielded them with a hand wrapped in gauze.

“Holy shit,” someone spoke your name.

“Should we call the nurse?”

“Hold on a second. Sweetheart, are you awake? It’s me, Eddie.” A soft hand reached for yours to pull it from your eyes. “Hit the lights, will ya?”

Stark white dulled to softer blues and grays, and you lowered your hand from your face. Your eyes adjusted, room and faces blurred until the sweet, sad face of your best friend came into focus.

Munson smiled back at you, hair swept back over his shoulders, black t-shirt hugging his chest. His body was pressed to yours, butt pinching the wires that were jabbed into your hand and the crook of your elbow. “Bet those drugs are feeling really nice right now, huh?”

His voice was sweet and low, like molasses, and it buzzed through you warm and soft. You hummed, but the dryness in your throat cracked until you coughed and sputtered and gasped.

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse.”

“You want some water?” Eddie scrambled, snapping his fingers at something on the other side of you, and you turned your head to find Robin with a clipboard under one arm, frantically pushing a large, red button that hung on a cord beside you.

You tried to say her name, but once again the wheezing and sputtering halted your attempt, so you reached for her instead.

“Water? Yeah, here,” her voice trembled, and her hand as she lifted a large plastic cup from the bedside table and held the straw to your lips. She looked scared, frantic, and tears brimmed in her big, blue eyes.

“I got it,” Eddie took it from her, holding the straw steady for you to drink.

The cold water soothed your throat, and your eyes closed in the relief. You were exhausted. Your entire body sunk further into the soft cloud you laid upon and wanted to stay there.

“What’s going on in here?”

“You fall back asleep on us?” You felt the rumble of Eddie’s chuckle, and the tug of a smile played on your lips.

You peaked one eye back open, and the nurse who stood in the doorway dropped her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’re you feeling? Don’t talk, but give me a thumbs up or thumbs down.” She pushed into Robin’s space to jiggle the tubes attached to you.

You managed a thumbs up, the world still a little fuzzy around the edges.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I bet you’re feeling good.”

“Your vitals are looking good, but you should probably rest. It’s the fastest way your body can heal.”

Yeah, rest sounded lovely. You nodded and closed your eye again, sinking farther into the warm cloud embracing you.

“I’m going to go check on Nance,” Robin muttered from beside you. “You going to stay here?”

“Try and stop me,” Eddie said, and it pulled another smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

—

Seventeen gates had sealed themselves over night, leaving naught but severed vines and wet patches of pavement. Bits of equipment and body parts slowly began to wash up on shore, but when the lake beds were dragged, no gates had been found.

Your drug-induced dreams had been void of smoke and screams, void of ash and ruin, void of that shock of orange and the chill in your spine.

You’d gotten to your feet faster than any of your comrades, despite being one of the last living recovered by the Evac team. You joked about your competitive nature through wheezed coughs behind your cast.

You and Munson raced walkers down hallways. Much to your chagrin, he let you win.

Weaning off the drugs, your body ached, bones stiff. The stitches around your cheekbone and shoulder and hip itched something fierce. Your voice came back after a few days, scratchy and raw, but your hearing never returned on that right side.

You begged Eddie to read you the novel he’d been writing every night as you drifted off to sleep. You played card games with Jonathan and Argyle during the days, stuffing aces into the bright blue plaster of your bandaged arm.

Hopper visited when he could, cursing at a nurse under his breath when she came in to tell him to put out his cigarette. He did so in your abandoned jell-o cup, and before he left, he squeezed the fingers of your hand and said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Nancy’s recovery came along quickly, always two steps ahead, and you spent evenings distracting her while her bandages were changed. Burns covered half of her slender frame, but she grit her teeth through the agony. You helped her to her feet when she asked and held her hand to the bathroom and back to her bed.

Robin came bearing gifts smuggled from the outside, warm socks and soda in glass bottles, a record player and later, hummed tunes. She tried to teach you French one night, Russian another, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep at Nancy’s bedside, she was slumped onto Eddie’s shoulder, the two of them wide-mouthed, snoring out-of-sync.

Some such nights, you’d sneak out, carrying your IV so the wheels didn’t squeak, the pads of your feet cold against stark white linoleum. You’d bypass the common room, illuminated by the vibrant colors of candy wrappers from a vending machine, and tiptoe down the hall past the nurse’s station. You’d slip into a room two doors down, on the left, masked under the faint blue glow of a heart monitor and sidle up beside the patient there.

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

You glanced at his heart rate on the monitor, the steady but slow rise and fall, and then you slipped your fingers to the pulse point on his wrist to double check. “Harrington, I’m always saving your ass, aren’t I?” You tutted.

You tugged his torso to warm exposed shoulders, careful not to drag the material against the plane of his chest, where skin had been grafted together with vicious knots of needle and thread.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, taking solace in the warmth of life, and swept hair from the wrinkle in his brow.

You pulled up a chair and tucked your hand into his, resting your elbows and head beside the dip of his thighs, listening to the subtle beat of his heart until your eyelids felt heavy and your rhythms matched with his.

—

May 1990

Sunlight dappled the landscape in pale yellows and vibrant greens, pouring in from between the limbs of trees and spilling onto the grass like paint to a canvas. A breeze brew through, sweet florals on the wind. You helped it sweep fallen, wilted petals and debris from letters carved into stone. A petrified bouquet was replaced with a fresh one, and you primped rose petals and wiped lily pollen off on a pant leg.

Robin crouched beside you, freckled nose red and eyes bleary. She kissed a beaded bracelet before wrapping it around the little vase with the others like it.

You stood before her, helping her up by the hand, and both of you kissed your fingertips and placed them to the tip top of the headstone.

“You ready?” You muttered, giving her hand a squeeze.

She sniffled, nodded, and you began your trek up the dappled hill toward the parked car.

“Give a kiss for me too?” Eddie asked as you approached, frown etched between his brows. You sunk into his embrace, buried your face in the warmth of his throat. He smelled of the cigarette he’d stamped out on the asphalt.

“Always,” Robin muttered into his other shoulder, burying herself there too.

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him.

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

You swatted at his middle, fighting back the grin that tugged on the corners of your lips. “I’m changing my name back,” you argued.

He hummed a protest, rocking you back and forth, large hands tracing circles of comfort up and down the length of your spine. He felt safe, a tall drink of relief, calm tides after a storm.

“Well, I think I’m ready for brisket,” Eddie clapped Steve’s shoulder, and you reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband’s embrace to help your friend into the back seat.

Robin rounded the car to join him, and you accepted Steve’s sweet kiss to your temple before he climbed in behind the wheel.

With a sigh, you turned to cast one last look down the hill at Vickie’s grave. Light poured down sweet and soft. This place had never felt like her, a disconnect between the girl you knew and loved and the monument for soldiers fallen.

“Steve,” you turned to see him, big brown eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we make one stop first?”

“Of course.”

—

The new owners painted it blue, still pale, but it matched the sky now. The garage door had been painted stark white like fluffy clouds, and a mini van was parked out front. Toys and bicycles spilled out onto the yard like it had when you were young. Someone paved over the pothole in the lane.

“Want me to come with you?” Steve mumbled, fingertips to your wrist as you opened the passenger side door. You noticed his glance in the rearview.

You shook your head. “I’ll only be a second.”

The wind ruffled the trees, forest curving downhill toward farmland and beyond, but you turned your back to the trees and took cautious steps up the driveway to the garage door. Two daisies had been chalked beside a hopscotch course.

You closed your eyes and breathed in all of the memories from childhood: running back and forth from your house to hers, her incessant humming, the sound of her laughter, dancing in circles in a thunder storm, the feeling of her slender fingers between your own, her nose to yours.

With a smile, you opened your eyes again and turned to go back to Steve’s idling car. That’s when you saw it, a shock of orange out of your periphery that ducked between slats on the porch and flew directly at you.

Your breath caught in your throat, anxiety clawing at your chest, when you felt the wrap of tiny limbs around your knees, knocking them together.

“Baby, what are you…? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Honey, let go!” A woman launched herself from the front door.

You looked down to find a child, no older than three, with bright red hair and a toothy grin etched upon freckled features. You smiled back, tears welling in your eyes, and patted her little head. “Hi, sweetie,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry. We just learned what hugging is,” the little girl’s mother reached for her pudgy little hand to pry her off of your legs.

“Oh no, she’s okay,” you let out a wet laugh.

“Thank you,” the woman huffed. “Can I help you with something?”

You waved her away. “Oh no, my um… my friend used to live here, before the Earthquake. I came to check in on the place. We um… we used to play hopscotch just like this.” You fumbled for a reason to be stood there, in this stranger’s driveway.

“Oh, I see,” the woman’s face fell in understanding. “Would you like to come in? I might have lemonade.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled at the girl in her arms. “Your little one gave me just what I needed. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Bye-bye!” The girl waved before hiding, shy, in her mother’s hair.

“Bye.” Emotion swelled with a lump in your throat, but you turned to find that wash of relief in your partner, who stood, leaning over the hood of his car, knowing smile stretched across handsome features.

He waved at the mother and daughter behind you and waited until you were safely inside before getting back in himself. A large hand came to squeeze at your knee, two others squeezed your shoulders from the backseat.

“That baby was pretty cute,” Steve mumbled from his seat, shifting his car into gear to start rolling again.

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting the groans of your best friends fade into the background as you watched the colors of your childhood roll on by.

---

[[A/N: And here we come to the End. I'm a bit emotional here, and would like to, if I may, wax a bit about how much this story means to me.

I haven't written a story this long (haven't finished a story like this) since November of 2019. Like most of us, 2020 took a toll on my mental health, my physical health, my self-esteem, my confidence as a writer, and I think this year, with your help, I'm slowly gaining that confidence back. This story really proved to me that if I put myself into it, my values, my fears, if I truly tie myself to a piece of work, I can do it again.

Wildfire will always be my baby, my favorite, the reader and Harrington and Vickie and all of them mean so much to me, much more than even I know, I'm sure. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking along for the ride with me. I'll never be able to express just how much your words of encouragement have meant. So thank you, so so much, for reading xo]]

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #vickie stranger things #vickie

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snail-pot · 4 months ago

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So. I don't know bout you guys, but I get excited when I reach these "bookmark milestones" (ex. I've bookmarked 200 fics, I've bookmarked 300 fics, etc etc). ANYWAY, I was thinking, to celebrate my 400th bookmark, why not make a list of Harry Potter fics I've bookmarked throughout my time on Ao3?

Gen: [AKA General Relationships, Little to No Romance]

"riding up the wrong path" by ashen_key [Lily Luna Potter, Character Study, Oneshot]

When Lily is eighteen, she cuts her hair and joins the army. The British Army. The British Muggle Army. Despite what the gossip papers say, she leaves her wand at home. She's not a complete idiot. – – Oh, right. Maybe take a few steps back.

"The Statute of Secrecy" by Shairanna [Muggle POV, Muggles, Crack Treated Seriously, Oneshot]

They were, of course, just Muggles, and as such had no idea that magic was real, and that wizards and witches lived hidden among them. Or so the witches and wizards thought.

"The Time That Wood Didn't Play" by HPfanatic12 [Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley, Humor, Oneshot]

Due to an injury, Oliver has to stay off the field for a bit and Lee Jordan offers him the opportunity to be the quidditch commentator. Professor McGonagall allows it Only to discover that Wood is much worse than Jordan ever was

"In Which Lucy Despises Sundays" by HPfanatic12 [Lucy Weasley, Percy Weasley, Next Gen, Family Issues]

Lucy didn't like Sundays all that much And it all has to do with how people treat her dad

"Home Alone: The Battle of Hogwarts" by Kosaji [Crossover, Kevin McCallister, Crack Treated Seriously, Multi-chapter, Completed]

Based off this prompt from writing-prompt.tumblr.com: Harry, Hermione, and Ron are killed interrupted early in their search for Horcruxes. Voldemort orders a full invasion of Hogwarts to find the remaining ones. In a panic, Hogwarts is evacuated. One student slept through the evacuation order: 4th year American transfer student Kevin McCallister.

"'Hope' is a Thing With Feathers" by PeachyKeener [Percy Weasley, Weasley Family, Family Issues, No Bashing, Oneshot]

A coward in the eyes of his family he may be but if he had the chance to save even one life he would take it. What Percy Weasley did during the war, in brief moments, and the reconciliation of his family.

"Ron Weasley, Dad of the Gryffindor Tower" by likes_koolaid [Ron Weasley, Gryffindor Boys, Fatherly Advice, Oneshot]

5 times Ron acted like a dad. Aka 5 times the boys in the dorm (minus Ron) didn't have fathers

"Consanguinity" by StygiasCanes [Percy Weasley, Weasley Family, Angst, Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Multi-chapter, Ongoing]

The Second Wizarding War ends, but Percy is nowhere to be found. Six months later, a traumatized Percy is rescued from a Death Eater hideout. How do the Weasleys put their family back together when Percy never had the chance to redeem himself at the final battle, and will they be able to help Percy recover?

"You're Not Supposed to be Here?" by pretty_scary_vampire [Muggle Shenanigans, Crack Treated Seriously]

Muggles can't see Hogwarts in all its glory. Instead, they see smoking, crumbling ruins that they avoid at all costs in fear of being crushed to death. What happens when a young woman decides that she's going to explore Hogwarts? Chaos, an annoyed Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall being ignored, and never ending giggling, that's what.

Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood: [Romance]

"Oliver's Obsession" by orphan_account [Teen]

The Gryffindor Quidditch team is fed up with Oliver constantly pestering them. They decide to do something about it.

"Still think he's the weakest" by Hhhhhheeeeeelloo1 [Not Rated]

Based on that b99 scene where Jake jumps into Terry’s arms when he was holding coffee. You know the one. But with Percy and Oliver.

"Strip poker (and other dangers" by SquaresAreNotCircles [Teen]

“Strip poker?” Oliver offered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, just as the compartment door slid open. “Er,” Percy said. Or: Oliver and his best friend are bored, Percy has incredible timing and everybody keeps their clothes on.

"The Hottest Weasley" by orphan_account [Teen]

A notice appears in the Gryffindor common room, asking a very important question: Who Is The Hottest Weasley?

"Preparing" by orphan_account [Teen]

The Gryffindor quidditch team prepare their captain for one of the most important events of his life.

"It's the truth" by SquaresAreNotCircles [Teen]

Fred and George refuse to believe Percy has a girlfriend. Oliver seems to know more. It's all very mysterious, until it isn't.

"good old-fashioned loverboy" by aeoneskova [Teen]

Due to a slight mix-up in calculations, Percy Weasley ends up sharing his dorm with only one other person. Unfortunately, that person just so happens to be the complete opposite of Percy himself. In order to avoid the inevitability of strangling Oliver Wood by seventh year, Percy moves their beds to opposite sides of the dorm. However, over their years at school, circumstances gradually bring them closer together. or; Percy Weasley being irritated for 7 years straight. Ironically, it’s very gay.

"In Which Fred and George Weasley Go Through the 5 Stages of Grief Because their Brother is Dating Their Quidditch Captain" by apollospec [Teen]

[NO SUMMARY AVAILABLE]

"At least he has great abs" by Irisen [Teen]

There's nothing quite like waking up to your mother texting you a picture of your soulmate's abs.

"Burn Across the Sky" by MoonytheMarauder1 (beforethemoon) [Teen]

Suddenly, Oliver stopped speaking. His brown eyes had locked onto something on the other end of the Quidditch Pitch, and a grin overtook his features—completely unlike the serious scowl that had been sitting there before. Wide-eyed with shock, the Gryffindor Quidditch team turned as one to find the source of Oliver's distraction. The only thing that could have caused it, however, was the person walking briskly past the stands, a stack of books in his arms and a worn Gryffindor scarf wrapped snugly around his neck: Percy Weasley. Harry turned around just in time to watch Fred, George, and Ron's jaws drop as one. The three Weasleys glanced from their captain to their brother, then back again. Fred was the first to speak. "You're shitting me," he breathed. o.o.o Or, When Oliver Wood stops talking about Quidditch to stare at Percy Weasley, Ron, Fred, and George know something is up.

"The Exploding Charm" by perilouspursuits [Teen]

It's funny the things that come back to hurt and help you. In the end Percy chooses a side and it doesn't take long for him to know he's chosen right.

Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas: [ROMANCE]

"It's Tough to Have a Crush" by obliviateme [Teen]

Dean Thomas has had a crush on Seamus Finnigan since second year. Four years later, Seamus kisses him on the way back from a Hogsmeade trip. A week after that, they still haven't spoken about it. Dean struggles to bring up his feelings, and he's not sure if Seamus will let him down about this.

"The Perfect Vows" by KillianJones32 [Gen]

“You’re okay with writing our own vows right?” Dean had asked him over three months ago. Dean had looked at him with those big brown eyes and wide grin and really how was Seamus supposed to say no? But now the time had actually come to writing those vows and Seamus was struggling, quite a bit actually.

"Painting Seamus" by KillianJones32 [Teen]

Dean is an artist who hasn’t submitted anything for his portfolio in weeks and he ends up doing a painting of his roommate Seamus who he's had a crush on for over a year.

"Breakfast in Company" by Anemone_nemerosa [Teen]

Prompt: I run a bed & breakfast and you showed up for your reservation alone. Do you understand what the purpose of a b&b is? It's a bright and sunny day mid-October when Dean meets the most peculiar person to ever enter his life.

"Doodles" by fandomgalore [Gen]

Dean likes to doodle to keep his hands occupied. Over the years, his doodling subject range narrows down to one.

"(Star)Gazing at You" by Three Guesses (Thr3eGuess3s) [Gen]

It's Christmas and all Seamus wants to do is get Dean alone under the mistletoe, but Hogwarts and it's mysteries may just get in the way of that. (Yes, btw, I am indeed aware that I'm posting a Christmas fic in July don't @ me)

"A Slight Pyromaniac's Guide to Love and Potions Class" by Anonymous [Gen]

Seamus Finnigan is Potions partners with Dean Thomas. They're making Amortentia. What an inconvenient time to be in love with your best friend. // Inspired by a tiktok by @mariuslee! It's where I got the dialogue for the actual Amortentia scene from, and it inspired me to write this whole fic in the first place!

"Write on Me" by orphan_account [Gen]

At the age of 17 everyone gets a tattoo of their soulmates name in their hand writing. Or the one where Dean won't tell Seamus who his soulmate is until Seamus's birthday.

"ní bhíonn toit gan tine" by fallthroughtimelikeme [Explicit]

Dean is staying over in Séamus's house for part of the summer holidays. Stormy nights, cuddling in bed, awkwardness, and sex ensues.

"Lost Bed, Found Love" by NearlyHeadlessNicci [Explicit]

A Prank War amongst the Gryffindor Eighth Year Boys gets slightly out of hand. Dean ends up suffering some undeserved consequences, but does he really suffer?

"Hiding Scrawl, Licking Freckles, and Other Average Wizard Things" by tamerofdarkstars [Gen]

Someone out there is obsessed with his freckles, and damn it, Seamus Finnigan wants to know who. - Uselessly fluffy Soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in an shifting magic tattoo

"The Truth in Black and White" by brokenbottleaurora [Teen]

Seamus and Dean are already best mates- but could they be soulmates? After the first 6th year potions class, the answer is clear. Pure Deamus fluff. Not canon compliant (shifted timeline).

"watch the stars burst into light" by anonymous_koala [Gen]

After Dean's 18th birthday, he's finally able to communicate with his soulmate. Who are they? Will he ever get to meet them? A soulmates can see everything written on the other's skin AU.

Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood: [ROMANCE]

"darling, the mess is half the fun" by slyther_ing [Teen]

In retrospect, the twins probably could've gotten their answer by just asking Oliver whether he and Flint were a thing - but when have they done anything the easy way? (In which the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams attempt to get their captains together, and Marcus' reputation suffers.)

"Your feet above the ground" by Phantomato [Explicit]

And if he’d attended potions, and couldn’t remember anything, and was now groggy and prone in front of multiple professors in the Hogwarts infirmary, that could only mean one thing: potions accident.

"Come a little closer" by MInnie0503 [Teen]

Marcus Flint gets engaged. Oliver Wood starts a fight. They both end up with ten shared detentions and it all goes tits up from there. Or: How many detentions does it take for two boys to admit they like each other?

"The Inked Snitch" by your_token_trophy_wife [Teen]

While Oliver’s quidditch days may be over, his quidditch supply shop is near perfection. Perhaps he’s a little lonely and a tad sheltered too, but Oliver would much rather keep to himself than have his heart broken. That’s not too much to ask for is it? Though when a magical tattoo shop opens up next door, Oliver’s in for a lot of surprises, including bad flirting, third-wheeling and the return of an old rival. Alternatively: A shop!AU where both shopkeepers are hopeless at flirting, great at drawing conclusions and absolutely inept at talking about their feelings.

"Adversary" by RoemaencePartnaerr [Teen]

Oliver was pretty sure he had shaken hands with every other person in the school, yet he still hadn't met his soulmate.

"chalk this one up as a win" by tamerofdarkstars [Teen]

Oliver Wood wakes up in the Hospital Wing a week after his first Quidditch game ever with a head injury and his soulmate's thoughts wound around his left wrist. Frankly, he's more concerned about missing the Quidditch game.

"rolling with the punches" by sadie18 (orphan_account) [Gen]

no matter what- the era, the age, the universe, muggle or wizard- oliver wood was always there - alternatively, marcus has a long dream, he wakes up in a different reality every day, and he just can't get away from oliver wood note: the plot isn't apparent from the very beginning, so stick with it please! it clicks into place

"you're good at quidditch" by ramathorne [Not Rated; FANART]

A 4 page comic interpretation of a scene from chalk this one up as a win. slightly unfinished. still made with love.

"Does it smell like bleach to you?" by Surperb [Teen]

Oliver Wood overhears a private conversation while cleaning the broom shed.

"what my hands were made for" by hexiewrites [Teen]

There had been a small silver Quaffle inked into the skin on Oliver’s right hipbone since before he knew how to walk. His mother had gasped delightedly the day it had appeared, shimmering onto his skin as if by magic.

OTHER FICS: [The ones that don't really fit into a specific category, but I love and appreciate them regardless]

"Ottery St. Catchpole" by Erisah_Mae [Teen]

Tumblr Prompt from accio shitpost: "i wanna see a muggle who goes stealth among wizards purely by having a ridiculous aesthetic" A muggle moves to Ottery St Catchpole a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts, and there's a slight misunderstanding.

"A Touch of Mystery" by Edie_K [Teen]

At their weekly lunch, the Weasley brothers learn some surprising new information and the balance of power shifts. Canon compliant, set two years after DH.

"A Crown of Lilac Fingertips" by wickersnap [Teen, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley]

When they’d shaken hands on the train and Harry had pulled back with a bright, grass green imprint on his hand, he had gasped, excited, and asked Ron what it was. At thirteen years old green becomes lilac, and at fourteen lilac becomes red. At seventeen it's both, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

"The Sign" by Hang_In_There_Baby_Crookshanks [Gen, Justin Finch-Fletchley/Ernie Macmillan]

Justin Finch-Fletchley thinks he has zero chance of being asked out for Valentine's Day. Is he about to be pleasantly surprised? Or will the irritating muggle song that he seems to be the only one able to hear drive him crazy first?

"why not both" by varnes [Mature, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley/Viktor Krum]

“Small baby,” Krum diagnosed, sounding delighted by this. “World too big, yes? Wants back in small, warm place, yes?” Ron realized that he was holding his breath. He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking at Krum like she was definitely, absolutely going to leave Ron for him, and honestly, at this moment, Ron felt that was fair. Ron was going to leave himself for Krum. Ron was going to rob all the banks in the world to get Viktor Krum back his money as long as it meant he’d keep their beautiful, perfect, angelic monster of a screaming baby quiet. “I want to be in a small, warm place,” Hermione muttered, and then squeaked a little realizing she’d said it out loud. Rose giggled. “Shidole,” she whispered, looking pleased and interested, smacking at Krum’s chest. “Rose, don’t call our guests shitholes,” Hermione scolded, and then said, “Viktor, you can stay as long as you like.” - Or: The Ron/Hermione/Krum fic that absolutely nobody was hankering for in the year of our Lord 2020.

"can take the sting (if you heal my bruises)" by oliverwvvd [Teen, Cormac McLaggen/Ron Weasley, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood]

Prompted by peachpety for Quidditch Fest 2021. I hope this fulfils what you hoped for to some degree! Cormac McLaggen and Oliver Wood hold the record for the two Keepers in the Quidditch league with the most injuries to date respectively. Oliver plays it risky and ends up in the hands of an exasperated Marcus Flint, ex-Montrose Magpies player turned Healer. Cormac, on the other hand, has a persistent crush on Ron that everyone knows about...except for Ron, who is oblivious, right up until the moment that he isn't. [Original prompt/request: Person A plays professional Quidditch and is prone to injury. All the more reason to see the team physician, his secret crush. Person B is the exasperated team physician at his wit's end with the only player for whom he pines. UST OUT THE WAZOO & happy endings, please.]

"Petunia Evans, a Retelling" by HouseElfMagic [Teen]

Petunia remembered magic. Being young and making things happen--strange things, impossible things--and then the pain when that man took it all away, locked it inside her. She doesn't get it back until Lily's started Hogwarts already and by then she's old enough to decide she wants to keep her own magic a secret. She didn't know that this would ultimately lead her on a quest to raise her nephew and defeat an evil megalomaniac calling himself Voldemort. But, well, here she is. She will do whatever it takes to keep her nephew safe. And hey, if she gets a pseudo father, rescues a convict, makes friends, becomes an almost permanent babysitter to two additional children, and writes books along the way, then that's a definite bonus.

"Like a Dream" by orphan_account [Teen, Viktor Krum/Ron Weasley]

Ron's life had been in a routine for so long. He did his job as an Auror even though he didn't love it, he lived alone but decided he was okay with it, and he ignored that his soulmate was a person who felt more like a fantasy than a reality.

"Loopholes" by orphan_account [Gen, Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan]

To prank his well despised DADA professor, Umbridge, after she put up a decree that prohibits boys from being too close to girls, George Weasley ingeniously finds a loophole and eventually gets his twin brother and his best friend to fake date. Which, however, wasn't going to last long in the first place, especially due to Lee's annoying crush on Fred.

"the art of bending rules" by orphan_account [Gen, Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan]

Umbridge thinks the only way to control the rebels at Hogwarts is to put up rules — and more rules, and then a few more rules after that. Unfortunately, what she doesn’t understand is that there is nothing most rebels are better at than bending the rules. It’s an art to perfect, as Fred says.

Happy reading! Don't be afraid to ask for recs and I'll do my best to answer them :))