#as i did with the last one (though that was directed to my challenge inbox)

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[troutfur]

Brightheart and Jayfeather having a conversation about his brief time as her apprentice after he gets his medicine cat name.

You were one of the first people to submit but also one of the ones I consciously decided to ignore for the longest time because even though Jay is an absolute blorbo and I'll always take every opportunity to write him, I wanted to deliver more variety and challenge myself a little. Plus I did get randomly into the mood for doing pfurr stuff. But now that I'm clearing the inbox I may as well indulge.

I briefly deliberated going an AU route with this one because I do like AUs in which Jayf either swaps later in life or otherwise has more agency in becoming a meddie. But I felt canon was more in spirit of the prompt and has a certain emotionality that can't be gotten anywhere else.

(Wanna submit a prompt of your own? Check out my guidelines and send it in! Inbox cleanse coming soon so I'm gonna definitely need a good number of these to last me the 2nd half of the month.)

Brightheart waved goodbye to Birchfall as Berrynose approached with a heavy step to relieve him on the first shift of sentry duty that day. His ruffled fur and glazed eyes clearly betrayed why he hadn’t been ready at sunrise sharp and had instead delayed until the sunlight began to filter down from the canopy in weak beams. When she greeted him with a motion of her head he responded in kind and began with his morning grooming routine.

For a senior warrior such as her to be doing two consecutive shifts of sentry duty, no less at the border between night and day... It had been an odd request, much less having first been presented over a half-moon ago. But her persistence had made Brambleclaw ultimately accept. Rumors had been exchanged, reaching even the ears of their brothers who had offered her to serve the shifts alongside her on the assumption it had to do with remembrance of their sister. She ended up declining. It had to do with oracle business but it wasn’t about their sister this time.

As the day brightened and the forest and camp wakened with activity, Brightheart kept her vision forward and focused. Her ears stood tall, her position was perfectly squared. At least from the outside she was the model of a sentry. But her focus was really only placed on a very particular thing.

Once her good eye registered the approach of two familiar tabby pelts, one brown one silver-gray, she gently touched Berrynose’s side to bring him to alert and stop his daydreaming.

“Mrruh?” he mewed, turning to face his senior.

“Keep on guarding camp,” she instructed. “I’m going to be back shortly. If you need me for anything I’ll be heading in that direction,” she signaled with her muzzle towards her right side.

“Fine, fine, fine,” he mumbled as he shook his head to free himself from the stupor he’d been in.

Brightheart strode up to Leafpool and Jaypaw --Jaysomething rather-- in long steps. From where she saw her approaching Leafpool beamed her a smile and gave her apprentice a nudge. He barely had time to get to taste the air before the senior warrior was right in front of him.

“Greetings star-touched,” she began with a bow as was protocolary when the oracles were returning from their official functions. “Leafpool, Jayp--”

“Jayfeather,” he promptly interrupted. “It’s Jayfeather now.” Leafpool gently bunted against his shoulder with her own. “...And greetings to you too, Brightheart.”

“I think she’s got something to say to you,” Leafpool told her apprentice. “I’ll go to the den and get ahead in catching up with cases we might have missed while out last night.”

“Better they be something worth the time and not a matter of vanity like with Berrynose last time,” the newly-made full medicine cat huffed as his mentor strutted off.

“Come walk with me,” Brightheart prompted, hanging her tail over his shoulders as she positioned herself for the direction they were going to go in.

As he turned he shouldered off her tail and made a quick inspection with his whiskers and nose before setting ahead.

“So, I guessed right,” Brightheart said, heaving herself towards the front. “How is the new name suiting you, you think?”

“Not what I thought I’d get,” he said rather non-chalant. But from what she could see out of her flank she knew his stride was bold and his tail fully upright. “But I never did think Leafpool would give me something good. So all in all I’m happy.”

“You ever thought Firestar would give you something good?” she asked.

She could see him startle and then his tail droop even though he kept up the tone and the stride. “Really doesn’t matter now does it?”

“You seem really proud to be Leafpool’s apprentice,” she said.

“It’s good work,” he replied. “Most of the time at least...”

“Does it make you happy as well?”

“My Clanmates are well taken care of,” he replied. “I get to know the forest in a way no ordinary warrior ever really can. I get to have more freedoms than them across the borders. I am privy to StarClan’s secrets. I--” The more he spoke the more unconvinced he himself sounded.

“And do you ever miss the brief time we spent together?” she asked.

He sighed. “Frankly, no. Leafpool may have fretted about me but she did let me be out of camp. At least with her I can be out of her sight.”

A silence hung between them for a moment, letting the awkwardness grow. “I... see...”

“I know why you did,” he replied. “And I’ve tended to the aftermath of enough battles to see what were your worst fears. But between being stuck in stuffy dens all day and only most of the day... I think it’s easy to see why I think like I do.”

“You’re right,” Brightheart admitted with a bow of her head. “And do you think that with what you know now you’d rather have had a youth like your other peers?”

“Hard to know for sure,” he said. “I’d probably get frustrated more. That battle with ShadowClan...”

“It would be my job to make sure it didn’t get to you,” Brightheart said. “It’s something every apprentice experiences on some measure. We hardly had time to work on it, but if you had let me...”

“The herbs clicked for me in a way nothing else had,” Jayfeather said. “So much so that when Leafpool tried to pull our lessons towards the other parts of our duties I was very strong resisting. She chastised me often, ‘we are supposed to heal not mend, StarClan’s light is a must.’ If I had find something about being a warrior like that I can only imagine it going down similar.”

“That would have been a challenge,” she conceded. “But if I could have found that talent in you, we could have worked a lot more on it than what I imagine Leafpool would allow you to work in the mending part of your duties.”

“That would’ve been nice,” Jayfeather mused.

“I’m sorry for how I failed you,” Brightheart said, coming to a halt. “You made your choice and I’m happy for you in it. But if you ever feel like you could use some more skills, I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I feel like I’ll end up doing all the outdoors chores,” Jayfeather said, beginning to turn and retrace his steps. “So I’ve got a hunch I’m gonna end up needing them.”

[teatin]

hiii! hope you're well.

this might be random but i just wanted to ask if you've played re4 remake yet? and if you have i would love to hear your thoughts on it? (i guess more specifically about aeon bc i am a Big Simp for them LOL but ofc i would love to hear any and all thoughts you have)

also i absolutely love your fanfics on ao3, you're so talented and your writing is so good aaaaaaa i've been rereading them over and over lmaoooo

anywayyyy thank u for ur time and i hope you have a lovely day ❤️

Hi there! So sorry I let this sit in my inbox for so long 😭

First of all: Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so glad that you enjoyed my Aeon fics on AO3 and I hope I can continue to contribute even more fics to the fandom.

Now to the important stuff: Honestly? I really like what they did with Aeon in RE4R. My main criticism of their relationship in the OG game is that the devs didn't seem to know how to write a conversation between them that would last longer than 5 seconds, so all of their interactions in OG RE4 essentially boiled down to Ada smoke bombing Leon the moment the conversation started to get even slightly confrontational.

That's one thing I hoped they would improve on in the Remake and they did.

The original boat scene had no dialogue, but Remake's boat scene contained what is probably the closest thing we've had to a heart-to-heart between them. In the original, Ada swerved and crashed the boat against the rocks the moment she sensed Leon might have something to say, but here, she actively gives him an opening to speak his mind, and they actually get a chance to talk things out a little, even if the moment didn't last nearly as long as it should. I can appreciate that.

I also like the way they changed their final confrontation over the Plagas sample in a way that fits better with the narrative established in RE2R. In the original, Ada holds Leon at gun point, forcing him to hand over the sample, and even though we knew she would never hurt him, in the Remake timeline that scene wouldn't work as well considering 1) Leon had already challenged her to shoot him and she couldn't, another standoff like that wouldn't make any sense from a thematic or character standpoint, and 2) Remake Leon is clearly shown to be extremely vocal about his disillusionment and distrust of Ada, having her pull a gun on him after all that would've essentially undone any development they might've had throughout the game.

But it's not just Ada who changed. Leon pretty much let her have the sample without even bothering to put up a fight, and this is done without having a gun pointed at his head. This is also a continuation of the narrative established in RE2R: He probably remembers the last time he tried to fight her over a virus sample and how it led to catastrophic consequences. It also shows (in a very subtle way) that despite everything he said, he trusts Ada to not let the sample fall into the wrong hands. You can't tell me that if he had even a sliver of doubt, he wouldn't have at least tried to reason with her to get it back, instead he just kinda lets her have it.

I do think they could've done more with their relationship (I understand why Leon choking Ada while under the influence of the Plagas was removed, but I will forever be bitter about them axing a significant scene that involved Ada and giving it to LUIS of all people), but unlike a lot of people, I never went into the game expecting things to be sunshine and rainbows between them so the angsty direction of their relationship did not surprise me at all. If anything I could see shades of their Damnation era relationship in RE4R so I'm actually pretty pleased all things considered.

Also, them casually Facetiming each other this time around is just so funny to me somehow. It added a bit of lightheartedness in an otherwise quite heavy game (Aeon-wise).

RE4 era has always been a rough patch for Aeon. That has never changed. They bonded in such a short time in Raccoon City and that budding connection was immediately crushed by Ada's deception, and then she "died" before Leon could even process any of it (and he continued to not process any of it in the 6 years that followed, if the opening cinematic is anything to go by). That's a LOT of unresolved trauma and conflicted emotions. But they do care deeply, underneath it all, and we know that they will eventually get to a place where they can be comfortable with each other as they are. They haven't gotten there yet, but they will. And that's okay.

[thevioletcaptain]

Hey, so ODAAT has been renewed for another season - despite not winning that stupid poll. Hope it feels good knowing you supported a bully for nothing. But on the upside, at least we know what you're truly like now.

Which of these two things legitimately sounds like bullying to you, anon?

Person uses harsh language to address an issue that is important to them, and then immediately and sincerely apologises for the way they went about it as soon as they realise that they unintentionally hurt someone with their poor method of delivery.

Person sends antagonistic and insulting anonymous messages dredging up week-old wank to someone who has stated—twice—that they are done talking about the topic at hand, with the sole purpose of mocking them for having taken a stand on something that succeeded without their help.

Honestly, anon. Tell me.

Which one of those scenarios actually meets any kind of standard for bullying?

I think we both know which one fits. And I also think that if you weren’t at least a little bit aware of that, you’d have had the guts to send me this message without hiding behind a grey face.

So, yeah. You know what I’m “truly like” now, but in case there’s anyone who still doesn’t get it, I’ll spell it out:

I’m the kind of person who would rather be disliked for taking a stand on something that I think is meaningful than be liked for my silence.

I’m the kind of person who thinks that it’s more important to follow my moral compass than to ignore it just to gain the approval of some strangers on the internet.

I’m the kind of person who looks at this message—spiteful, gloating, generally mean-spirited—and wonders how on earth she ever had anyone who would send something like this among her followers. Because this is some straight up bronly-level garbage I’m seeing here.

And shockingly, when people send me anonymous messages that read like they could have been ghostwritten by k*lios, I struggle to find any reason to want them--or anyone who thinks like them--to approve of me.

So if you do? Unfollow me. 

Sure, I’ll be sad to see that number drop, but on the upside--at least I’ll know what you’re really like.

[bobbyseyesmile]

Pride and Passion | 8

Chapter 8

Warnings: mentioning of eating disorder and depression (if you suffer under an eating disorder or depression, please seek help. you deserve love, food and a healthy mindset. If you need someone to talk, please feel free and don't hesitate to reach out to me. My inbox is always open)

⤝ Previous chapter | Next chapter ⤞ ➻ Pride and Passion masterlist

You tried hard to behave or whatever that meant in Negan's vocabulary- no talking back or making a fuss about small things, listening to him and his allies and most of all you tried hard to befriend his other wives.

The last one wasn't a challenge; they were all nice and kind of glad to see a new face around here. Especially Amber seemed to take a liking to you- she followed you around, talking more to you than the others. You felt bad for her, it was like she never had a real friend before, except the one man she was in love with: Mark.

Mark was a worker before he became one of the "soldiers", mostly to keep watch on the roof with a sniper rifle in his hand. He arrived with Amber and her mother at the Sanctuary, promising he would work for their place and to keep them safe. To his bad luck the leader of the Saviors cast an eye over Amber, wanting her as one of his wives. At first, she declined but soon she realized that her mother would get a better treatment, better medication and clean clothes if she agree to join Negan' side. Mark would get a nicer job and more responsibility among the Saviors, saving him from the humiliation to be a regular worker.

"We talked about it for a few days, deciding what would be the best: Being together but suffering or being separated and getting the chance for a better life." Amber told you when you two walked towards the canteen.

"But you're still suffering." you responded, indicating that she couldn't be with the man she truly loved and her mother. Amber wasn't allowed around Mark and only could see her mother once a week. Negan had strict rules to control his girls.

"Well..." she sighed and pushed open the door when you finally arrived. You watched the spectacle in front of you: lunchtime at the Sanctuary was like a fucking zoo. Saviors and workers were separated, the plates of the Saviors fuller and with better stuff while the workers got the leftovers.

It angered you every time you saw it- slavery all again.

"I hate this." you said and Amber looked at you in confusion. It was normal for her, or whatever normal meant in this madhouse.

The two of you got a plate with food and looked around for a free place to sit. Suddenly Mark looked up and locked eyes with Amber but only for mere seconds before Simon's hand slammed, regaining the attention of Mark. Passionate glances were also forbidden. Amber silently started sobbing and turned around, leaving her food and you behind.

"Asshole." you muttered in Simon's direction and he let out a silent "Bitch". You hated this guy; he was cruel and most of all crazy.

Negan wasn't better but at least you could reason with him, Simon didn't even listen to someone if they made a mistake. He just killed them or put them in a cell, starving them for days.

Your stomach dragged you back to reality, reminding you of the painful hunger you experienced. There was enough food at the Sanctuary but somehow you ate as little as possible, still being accustomed to the way you did it in Alexandria. You realized that you had developed an eating disorder when Amber made a comment about never seeing you eat and it scared her. So, she made you a proposal: to get your eating routine back she would accompany you every day to the canteen. Bless her sweet soul.

You didn't blame her for leaving though, after all she was broken and most of the time depressed. You decided to talk to Negan about her mental state, maybe you could help her. Even though you weren't a trained psychiatrist and didn't finish college you had enough experience from your former major, and also saved some of your old books. The problem was, the books were back in Alexandria...

"You looking for a place to sit?" someone beside you asked and you turned around. It was a young boy, maybe a few years younger than Carl, with a big gap between his front teeth and full of freckles in his face. His fiery hair reminded you of Abraham and you smiled to yourself. You missed the shit out of the red-haired Hulk who saved your life more than once.

"Uhm, yeah. I haven't been that much in here yet..." you admitted.

"You can sit with me and my mom if you want!" he gave you a bright smile and you nodded. "Sure, I would love to. Thanks." The boy introduced himself as Kyle and his mom Peggy. You gave both a smile and shared your name as well.

"So, honey-" Peggy started and you raised your head "When did you join the Sanctuary?"

"I don't know, a few weeks, maybe two months now. What about you and Kyle?"

"For three winters." A few years back, when the world was still normal, this would have been a weird answer but now time was relative. There was only the four seasons as well as day and night.

"Wow... that's a long time." you mumbled and Peggy nodded. She only must have been in her late thirties but she looked a lot older. You asked yourself if it was because of Negan and the Sanctuary or just because of the world as it was.

"What's your job here?" Kyle asked and shoved a potato in his mouth. "I'm a dishwasher and my mom's in the laundry department."

"Oh, uhm... I don't know, to be honest. No one assigned me yet." you shrugged your shoulders and caught Peggy's strange look.

"You've never been assigned? Normally they assign newbies after a few days."

"I see." you answered "Maybe I should ask Negan?"

Kyle's eyes widened. "Woah! You're allowed to talk to him?"

"Uhm... sure. Why wouldn't I?" you let out a nervous laugh, their looks made you shifting uneasy in your seat. "Can't you just talk to him?"

"We, the workers, aren't allowed to address him." Peggy answered. "Only Saviors or his wives."

"What? That's ridiculous! He really isn't that scary without his bat and leather jacket." You mumbled and made Kyle laugh with your statement. The others didn't laugh- Peggy's eyes widened the moment the realization hit her.

"You're a wife!" she yelled and jumped from her seat. You flinched and looked around.

"Uh, yeah. What's the big deal?" you asked sincerely.

"We are workers!" she hastily explained "We are not allowed to eat on the same table, you just jeopardized all of us. We could be punished for this! Kyle, get away from her!"

You shook your head and stood up as well. "I'm sorry, I-I d-didn't know..."

A harsh grip yanked you back and you let out a small "Ouch". Simon held you firmly but stared at the workers before yelling: "Get out. Now!"

The workers immediately left and Kyle turned around for one last time, waving you goodbye.

"What the fuck-" you finally said and tried to free yourself from Simon's grip. "What was that about? We were just talking!"

"Shut up..." he whispered menacingly. "Mark? Get me Negan, right now."

In the meantime, they detained you in the big hall, Simon not answering your questions, didn't matter what you asked. He looked up the railing, waiting for Negan. He arrived after a few minutes, raising his arms in annoyance. To your relief Lucille wasn't with him.

"What the fuck's wrong you had to disturb me during my lunch?"

"I'm sorry boss-" Simon said and gestured in your direction. Negan's angry expression turned into an annoyed one within seconds. He stopped at the top of the stairs and closed his eyes to rub them.

"Kitty Kat, what did ya do?" His voice was low but somehow soft.

"Nothing!" you exclaimed, also annoyed by now "I was just eating my lunch..."

"She sat with the workers." Simon added and by that throwing you under the bus.

"Fucker..." you spat in his direction- Negan's expression suddenly amused as he let out a small chuckle.

"Tsk, tsk... Language, doll face." He continued down the stairs till he was right in front of you, bending down so you would be eye level. "Interactions with the workers aren’t allowed. Didn't I ever tell you that?"

"No." you answered truthfully and he nodded.

"Alright, I'll give ya a pass on this one, especially because you had your shit together in the last weeks. But don't do it again, ya hear me?"

"Yes." you nodded and dared a side glance to Simon "What about Kyle and his mom? It wasn't their fault."

"Who and who?" Negan asked confused, also looking at Simon now.

"A worker boy and his mom. Looks like Y/N made new friends..."

"Hey! They have names you stupid-"

"Woah, calm down Grimes." Negan put a hand on your shoulder giving you a soft nudge. "Don't talk to Simon like that, you're my wife, fucking behave like one."

You gave Negan a dirty look. "You're all disgusting. You can't treat people like slaves! They have names, feelings and they do valuable work to keep this thing here going while you people just sit on your arse, taking credit that doesn't belong to you."

Negan let out an impatient sigh, closing his eyes again, what should he do with you? "Negan-" your voice suddenly soft and it caught his attention "I want to help in here... I don't want to be locked up, wearing pretty dresses all day, let me earn my keep."

"I already told ya-"

"I know! But think about all the things I could do: I majored in psych, I could help a lot of people and increase their mental health. Think about it- healthy mind, happy people."

Even though he could never allow it, Negan was intrigued by your proposal. It amazed him that your heart was so big even though you were so young and probably experienced hell in this world. Damn. He could never show how whipped he was, you had him around your little finger the moment he laid eyes on you.

Why did he had the fucking need to spoil and care for you? You were so different from all the other women, constantly giving him shit and being stubborn as fuck. It made him hot as hell and he started to neglect his other wives because the only person he wanted to push against a wall and fuck their brains out was you.

"We'll talk about this." he lied and gave you his signature smirk. You knew he bullshitted you and crossed arms in front of your chest.

"You're just saying that... you don't mean it."

And you are dangerously close to being bend over that desk and getting your sweet ass spanked, he thought to himself and his dick twitched at that very fantasy.

"I promise." he simply said but didn’t mean your proposal. Oh, he would spank that ass someday…

You gave up, for now, but would talk to him later again. That topic wasn't off the table, a lot of people, including Amber would benefit from the knowledge of your books.

You thought about your deal and the possibility to visit Alexandria and it made your heart jump in excitement. But for that deal to come true you had to back down and let Negan play his little games.

You gave him the sweetest smile you could manage and bat your eyelashes. "Alrighty."

Negan smiled back, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his teeth, ignoring the growing urge inside his pants. "Al-fucking-righty then."

Taglist: @toxic-ink @jaywinchestersalvatore @crosshajr @neganswoman @tone-stark @missmiauz (if you want to be added, pls let me know)

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

[harryskalechips]

Illicit affairs

A/N Hellooooo! I haven’t written in a while but enjoy this little sad piece inspired by Taylor Swift! Thank you for all the love! I hope you guys are doing well! Feel free to leave a kind message in my inbox ❤️

Y/N was a new intern at Colombia records when she met Harry Styles. Their relationship takes a turn however, when they start an affair.

Tw: Cheating

Thank you @harrysleftchelseaboot for letting me participate in your writing challenge! For any writers out there who want to give it a go make sure to check it out! I would love to read some new work. 

Prompts:

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

“I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Leave.”

Note: I do not condone cheating whatsoever! Please mind that this story is fictional! As much as it makes me sad to paint Harry as a cheater, it’s part of this storyline I thought of as I listened to Taylor’s album, Folklore.

Word count: 5k / Masterlist

Y/N never knew she was going to be in this type of predicament. Falling asleep every night in a man’s arms, only to wake up alone in her cold sheets at dawn. For some odd reason, his vanilla scent smothered her atmosphere every time, leaving her in a subspace-like condition. She found her thoughts easily shifting to him or feeling the need to touch him. She’s whipped but sadly also clingy. 

Does she have an excuse to feel this way? She was only 21 when she began working as an intern at this man’s record label. He was her first serious relationship and although he was married -there always seemed to be a weird tension between them.

It all started when she was assigned to follow Rob Stringer through his meetings in 2017...nonetheless she met Mr. Harry Styles. One of the members of the biggest boy band, One Direction. She knew exactly who he was, especially since he was sexualized by the media too often at an early stage of his career. She knew his first solo album was a hit and that in her job description, she had to be present at every interview he had. She also knew that the ring on his finger was a symbol of love for his wife that he married a year ago. 

Months on end, she barely spoke to him. She was shy -feeling as if her personality would bore Mr.Styles. One night however as the team went out to celebrate his last show for live on tour, he himself invited her. 

They were at a club in New York -A very private one to be exact when Harry found himself too interested in the quiet intern. To be honest, his life at home (when he was there) wasn’t what he planned for. His wife was too busy, only fighting him whenever he stepped foot inside. She barely had any more interests in his music or his life -and suddenly, it felt like two strangers living in that mansion. It wasn’t an excuse for him to keep glancing at the girl as she danced with her co-workers nor was it an excuse for him to buy her a drink. Funny enough, he always thought of himself as a hopeless romantic since he was waiting for that particular someone to love him back once again and save his marriage. But before he could stop himself, he was already walking towards the girls dancing on the floor and getting to know them.

After that night at the club, Y/N felt different towards Mr. Styles. Of course, she was still intimidated but she now knew him on a more personal level, leading her to call him Harry instead. That night as they sat in one the booth upstairs, she listened to his jokes and stories and it made her start to have a little crush on him. But hey, he was married and she would never want to ruin a relationship. 

As her days became busier at Columbia -sorting papers and running for Coffee, She always glanced at the elevator hoping Harry Styles would come out and was in need of a conversation with Rob in person. She knew he probably called her boss though the phone but her brain was rummaging for ideas why he would start appearing in her life once again. That was until one day she heard Gina and Louise in the staff room during break talking about Harry coming in tomorrow. Boy, did her heart began to beat fast. Maybe, it was manifestation but she was a bit too excited to see him again as it’s been a couple of months since she last saw him. 

~

“Y/N,” Rob calls out for her as he plays with a pen in his hand. “Meet me in the main conference room in five minutes. I need you to note down my meeting today.” He gives her a small smile and quickly walks off. She knew full well that this meeting was about Harry Styles. 

As she sat beside Rob at the long table, she realized that the whole table was filled with people from publicity and other departments. Right in front of her was the man she’s been thinking of, beside him was his manager. It’s not like she was deeply infatuated with him but she did love thinking about his pretty eyes. 

Matter of fact, as she first glanced at him, her eyes already met his. He was smiling and staying quiet as the meeting immediately began but his fingers played with his pen as he watched her. She was too focused on the shittier details of what they were discussing. He wanted to tell her so badly that she didn’t need to write some things down but he was having fun watching her bite her lip in stress. He wasn’t smooth though. Since she was already feeling his gaze burning through her. 

As the meeting went on, Harry became a bit more serious about why he came into the office. They were in the talks of his new second album and now, they had to plan publicity and tour. Some of the staff even asked how his trip to Japan was and although he was so excited to share his fantastic experiences, it was sad to mention how his wife didn’t even bother coming along. 

“Are you not going to say hi to me?” Harry teases Y/N as they’re the last ones to leave the conference room after their long meeting. She had to clean up the table while he chose to sit in his chair, pretending to do important things on his phone. When he waved bye to everyone as they left the room, he pointed at his phone, explaining he needed a few minutes to send “important emails” -he just wanted to catch up with his new friend, Y/N.

“Hi.” She tries her best to act normal and unaffected by his presence. “Sorry, I couldn’t say hi earlier. When Rob said five minutes, I didn’t know the meeting was already taking place.” Harry laughs at her apology since he wasn’t petty at all for her lack of greeting today. 

“I was just teasing. How are you?”

“I’ve been good.” She smiles back at him as she tosses the last remainder of paper cups in the bin. “I think the last time I saw you was last year. Where have you been?”

“Why did you miss me?” He raises his brow as he spins his chair a bit. He gives her a smirk as he watches her lean herself on the table. 

“Just a bit. I loved watching your interviews.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms against her chest. “At first I wanted to sleep through them but now I rather go through those back and forth instead of, filling random sheets out for Rob.”

“Heyy, I think I’m pretty interesting during interviews.”

“Oh no! Don’t get me wrong you are! It’s just you have such a raspy voice and you talk so slow! You can literally put me to bed anytime.”

“Am I talking slowly right now?”

“Just a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while. I kind of forgot!” She laughs. “ What else did you do other than Japan? Spent some time with your wife?” Y/N wasn’t going to lie… bringing up his wife kind of made her uncomfortable but she knew this was a good way to get to know him in a friendly way. 

Harry couldn’t help but give out a humourless scoff as he rests his head back on the chair. His eyes, however, meet her’s again. She couldn’t help but watch his adam’s apple bob up and down. 

“Marriage is hard you know. If I’m being honest with you, I haven’t spoken to her in a week. She’s been on vacation, travelling in Europe I think with her best friends.”

“She’s a model, right? She must have a lot of free time. I’m sure she can make space for you.” Harry slaps his knee in sarcastic humour as he shakes his head at Y/N’s innocent idea of who his wife truly is now. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s more complex than I thought. I haven’t really been in a relationship at least a long term one.”

“Are you free tonight?” Harry asks her out of the blue.

“Yes.” 

“Can I come over? We don’t need to do anything but I would love to hang out with you and I don’t know... forget I have all these responsibilities.”

“Sure.” What Y/N didn’t know that this night would forever change her relationship with Harry.

~

It was late in the night as Harry sat on Y/N’s couch talking to her about everything. His life, his career, his marriage. Usually, it wasn’t easy for him to open up so quickly to a stranger but for some odd feeling, his gut was telling him that he could trust this pretty girl beside him. It’s like he knew she was trustworthy and non-judgemental. 

Ever since he first noticed her during his meetings, he found himself involuntarily glancing at her. That was until he grew some balls and invited her to his after-party. Maybe, He did find her pretty and a bit too hot but even if his marriage is going through the rocks, he did not want to cheat. He didn’t want to be that type of guy. Yet during his time in Japan, he found himself thinking of what would happen if he was single right now? Would he actually make a move on her?

“What are you thinking of?” The same woman calls him out as she takes a swing of the wine bottle into her mouth. 

Yes, the found themselves enjoying Harry’s expensive red wine so now they’re passing the bottle. 

“You.” He was a bit tipsy and so was she but they were still sober enough to choose their words properly. 

“Me? Why me? Why not that hot model you call your wife.”

“She left my mind before I even met you.”

“Yet you’re still with her. Why?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her as he takes a sip of wine. 

“Okay, so why are you thinking of me? Are you happy you have a new friend?” Her cheeks were very red at his confession but she was trying to make herself believe it was because of the alcohol. 

“I’m happy that I finally got to know the girl who sat quietly in the corner during my interviews.” He smirks at her as he watches her try to hide a smile. 

“I was intimidated by you!” 

“Why was that, love?” Y/N was not expecting him to call her that. She places the almost empty wine bottle on her coffee table and sits back in her same position as she’s wrapped in the same blanket Harry is.  

“You’re Harry Styles. Every woman is head over heels for you and Every man wants to be you.”

“Are you head over heels for me?” Harry squints his eyes as he says the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It wasn’t his intention to flirt with her but they both knew they had overpowering chemistry. The only thing holding them back is well… Harry’s marriage. 

“No.” She bluffs. He continues to look at her. “Fine, a bit but you’re married so I know how to control myself.” 

“What happens If I can’t?” his tone drops as he mumbles to himself. “I’m sorry what?” Y/N chokes as she looks at him. 

“I know I’m married fuck.” He sits up and rubs his face in frustration. “It’s just I never wanted a girl so bad after my marriage. I shouldn’t! I should be happily married but for some shit reason, I can’t get my mind off of you.”

“Harry, there’s consequences about what we’re talking about right now.” Y/N sits up as well as she watches him. Does it still count as cheating if his wife is barely in his life anymore? 

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t that type of girl. I would never disrespect you like this. I should leave.” He begins to stand up immediately. Y/N says nothing as she follows him to the front door of her apartment. 

“Thank you for coming, Harry.” She opens the door to let him out. He simply nods as he walks past her through the door. As she watches him walk down her hallway, she closes the door. How was she feeling? Well, she was trying her best to not feel regret but instead relief. She leans her body on the wooden surface, trying to make herself feel happy that nothing happened between them -Yet her heart was beating too fast for a guy she had just met.

The loud pounding on her door, however, makes her head shut up. She immediately opens it to find no one other than the curly-haired man who had just left her apartment a minute ago.

He immediately grasps her face into his hands as he kisses her eagerly, making her shut the door behind him. His body quickly pushing her’s against the wall, as his lips attack her jaw down to her neck. Her hands resting on his shoulders as she leans her head back to give him more area to leave his soft licks and kisses. 

“Shit Y/N. You’re making me go crazy.” 

“Harry.” She moans as he rubs himself against her centre. He whispers a command to her, making her jump and wrap her legs around his waist and he carries her to the first surface in his line of sight, which is her dining table. It was a dark wood wooden table that was meant only for eating purposes.

He helps her take off the sweater she was wearing as she throws it behind it her without a care. With her hand, she guides his mouth back to hers, making them both moan as this sexual tension is finally being relieved. Her nipples became hard in an instant as they felt the cold temperature. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” He pulls away as he’s unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth was open a little bit from their heated makeout and his lips were juicy pink after kissing her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

“You want to fuck me right here?” Y/N blurts. She wasn’t the type to have sex with a new partner for the first time on her dining table but her room was a mess and she was a bit shy letting him in there. 

“Are you that eager baby?” A smirk plays on his lips as he tosses his shirt. “Well If you’re that needy, why won’t you take off my pants?” Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she reaches forward to unbuckle his jeans. “You know, how fucking long I’ve been jerking off with my right hand?” Harry asks as his hand runs through her soft hair, letting his thumb rub against her pink plump lips. 

“For a long time, Daddy?” She murmurs against the pad of his thumb as she lets his thumb enter her wet mouth. 

“Look at you, you’re a little devil.” Harry pushes his pants off until they reach mid-thigh. He quickly helps her out of her tights, pulling them off her almost instantly that she had to hold onto him. “Should I get a condom?” He pants as his hands involuntarily run themselves against her soft thighs.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too.” He looks down at her closed legs as he pumps himself a bit. “I promise.” Y/N nods as her hands guide his body back closer towards her.

 “Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” He whispers as he watches her show him her wet needy sex. “Fuck, you look so good right now.” He leans in to kiss her more. His mouth going south as they reach her breast. His mouth sucks on her nipple as the other grabs and rolls her the other one.

“Fuck stop teasing me. I need you.”

“Beg for me, Y/N. I know you want to.”

“Harry please!” She feels his hand directing his wet cock to her centre. Teasing her and playfully slapping her entrance. “Daddy!” His eyes immediately stop looking down as he grabs her hair, making her look at him. 

“You okay with this love? Do you like it rough?” Y/N nods her head as she stares into his eyes. 

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, I want it rough.” 

“What did you call me earlier?” A cheeky smile forms on his face as he watches this little girl about to crumble in his hand. 

“Daddy.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that or what?”

“Only if you want me-” Harry inserts himself in her, making her choke on her sentence. 

“What do you call me?” He leans a bit further downs so their bodies rub against each other as his arm supports her back while the other hand chokes her neck. 

“Daddy! Fuck, I call you daddy!” 

“I know I’ve been deprived of some good sex but you feel so fucking tight! Do guys not know how to fuck you?”

“Only you can.” Harry pulls his hand away from her neck and instead grasps her face so she can watch their centres connecting. 

“You like that view? Is it turning you on? You’re fucking clenching me, baby!”

“Harder, daddy.” Her arm wraps around his shoulder as he pulls away and turns around, making her bend on the table.

“You want it harder baby? I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never be able to sit at this table without remembering how I fucked you so good.”

~ The day after their first time sleeping with each other scared Y/N. As much as she tried to avoid letting Harry see her messy room, they ended up in there anyway. They participated in a couple more rounds and a deep conversation too until they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. 

What Y/N was scared of was how Harry would react when he woke up in her sheets. Of course, they weren’t too drunk last night but the alcohol did give them a confidence boost. Now it’s the day time and they have to deal with this new boundary they had just crossed. 

“Good morning.” A raspy voice speaks up as she sets her head on her hand. Her elbow putting all its pressure on her pillow while she watches the man who’s laying on his stomach smile at her.

“Hi.” She gives a soft smile back. Harry immediately notices the hickeys on her neck, making him not guilty but a bit more proud.

“I marked you.” Y/N’s eyes widen as she sits up and wraps her hands around her neck. “Why you don’t like them?” Harry fixes his position too so he can rest his back against the headrest. He rubs his eyes for a few seconds before helping her straddle his waist. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“You’re married.” Her finger mindlessly traces one of the sparrows on his chest. 

“I know.”

“You think she’ll get mad?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares.”

~ Y/N and Harry’s affair went on for months that they even reached his tour and new album reveal. Although they never said the three most important words, Y/N already knew it was there.

What she loved the most these past months with Harry was their privacy.  The secret hookups in changing rooms, the knowing glances in a room full of strangers, and their affectionate touches when they had to pass things to one another in front of her boss. 

She knows he’s married and there was no doubt, they fought about his relationship status. But Harry explained that divorces in Hollywood were more complex than for a regular couple. And while Y/N pretended to understand, she truly didn’t. She didn’t understand why he had to keep up this act of being in a happy relationship when he can simply leave his wife -not for her benefit but for his own happiness. Still, every time this fight occurred, they chose to sweep it under the rug. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to lose him. He had always been so persistent on his reasoning why he’s been delaying that action. She was scared that he would leave her during another fight only to run back to his wife. What she didn’t know was that she may be a bit too right, after all, he wasn’t ready to admit that his marriage was over. 

“Hi, Baby!” Y/N opens her door to find her “boyfriend” with a bouquet of flowers. 

“Hi!” She wraps her arms around him in a hug as she lets him enter her apartment that they know too well. If she had to be truly honest... despite having so much alone time with Harry, she’s never been on a date with him but you know -that’s something she had to let go when she decided to get involved with a famous married man. Yet it still didn’t stop her heart from feeling envious when she would be in the restaurant with her friends watching a random couple have dinner together.

Harry takes his hood off and hands her the flowers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t text you this past couple of days. You know that woman who lives with me.” He sighs and gives her a kiss on the lips before continuing on, “We were having lunch together and she noticed I wasn’t wearing my ring anymore so we fought.”

“So you’re wearing it.” Y/N places the flowers on the table and crosses her arms.

“I have too.”

“No, you don’t Harry. She’s only wearing her’s for show. You’ve been cheating on her for seven months!” Y/N snaps at him. She hated it when he wore his ring. It was just a real sign that maybe he was lying to her during the times, he said he was over their marriage and he was going to leave her when things become less complicated.

“Baby, hey stop yelling.” He walks towards her so he can wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry. You know I care so much about you. Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t stand that you’re married to another woman. Please leave her Harry.” Y/N pulls away as she holds onto his shoulders, begging him. “Please.”

“I’ll try.” He breathes out.

“You’ll try?” She pulls away immediately looking at him. “What do you mean? Have you not been trying to do that these past few months!” He rubs his face in frustration. 

“It’s hard Y/N. I told you countless times.” “I know it’s hard but what’s stopping you from doing it! You told me that you don’t want to lose me but for some odd reason, it seems like you don’t want to lose her!”

“She was my first love Goddammit!” He finally yells back at her. 

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie and they lie and they lie

A million little times

 They both found themselves caught off guard as the silence screamed in their ears. How could this safe space where they spent their nights rolling in the sheets feel so… indifferent? “Harry please be 100 percent honest with me.” Y/N backs away slowly as she reaches a few feet apart from Harry. “Do you want to leave her?” 

Silence.

“You told me you did? Did you change your mind?” Her eyes widen as she watches the man in front of her absolutely speechless. “I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”  He stares at the ground with his hands in his jeans. “Of course, I want to leave her! It’s just-”

“Leave.”

“What Baby no!” He quickly looks up and tries to make his way towards her. 

“Harry, stop. What we have is over! I’m not going to let you use me until your stupid sick marriage fixes itself!”

“Y/N that wasn’t my intention I swear! You know what marriage means to me! I can’t simply-”

“Fuck what you think of marriage! You don’t want to leave her but you rather continuously hide me while you go to awards with her -While you go on fucking dates with her!”

“It’s for publicity-”

“I don’t care!” She screams. “I realized that this isn’t working out and we should stop!” The pressure in her chest was making her hyperventilate. “We should have stopped months ago!”

“Fuck I don’t want to lose you, please. You’re the only thing that’s been making me so happy.” He reaches out to take her hands but she simply pulls away.

“Harry! Listen to yourself! You’re married! I’m starting to think you have a fear of having a failed marriage like your mom and dad! But please for the love of God, don’t drag me around because I won’t let you!” Harry’s faces change into anger as he gives her a cold look.

 “Well don’t drag my parents’ marriage into this! I told you that because I trusted you not so you can use it against me!”

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Y/N pleads. “You won’t lever her Harry! You won’t!” 

“How do you think people will react!” He gestures with his hands. “ After three years of marriage, Harry Styles is getting divorced!” He mimics a random news reporter.

“So-” “I’m not going to let myself be categorized under Hollywood’s failed marriages!” “It was already failing before you met me! Can’t you see I just want you to be happy!”

“I am happy when you’re with me!”

“Well, I’m not!”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry scoffs as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“How can I not? I’m hearing stories every day about your fights at home. This isn’t even a relationship Harry! It’s an affair! An illicit one! And I-I’m a secret!”

“I don’t want to share you with the public! They will judge us and they’re going to ruin you as they ruined me!” He rambles on. “I’ve been stalked and judged for things I didn’t know matter!” 

“I would rather go through that with you -than to watch you from far away and only have you with me when we’re here inside this apartment.” She points at the floor. 

“I can’t Y/N. I can’t let that happen and I won’t.”

“Then this is over then.” She quickly wipes her tears as she notices Harry doing the same. The yelling seemed to die down as they finally realized that this problem they tried to ignore wasn’t going anywhere.

“You know… for some reason, you taught me a lot of things.” Harry clears his throat as he wipes his wet palms on his pants. “Despite only letting you have one half of me. You somehow took over my whole mind. God, I would love to fight for you Y/N.” He looks at her as he feels tears forming in his again. “I do - I truly would.” A pause happens before he continues, “ For you, I ‘d ruin myself a million times but I would never let you do the same.” He emphasizes to her. “ I don’t want to let you go but I know I should because even if I go get that divorce, I’d still want to keep you as my secret -and that’s not what you want.” 

“I-” Y/N stops herself. She wanted to tell him that she loves him but she knew it wouldn’t help them at all. “I’ll still see you for a while. After my internship though, I’ll be gone.”

“Do you think we’ll stay in touch.”

“I don’t think we should.” She blurts it out as her eyes glance at the fresh bouquet sitting on her table. 

“Alright. I guess that’s it.” Harry sniffles a bit before walking to the door. “I’ll see you.”

“Goodbye.”

And Y/N thought she wouldn’t have to see him again after her internship. Although her heart was broken, she found herself counting the days until she can find a new job. After their unexpected ending, she no longer found herself lonely in the mornings but during the nights too. 

The days he came by the office were more difficult than she thought. She would still feel his gaze on her during their meetings but he no longer greeted her nor gave her any attention. He would walk right past her desk when he visited the office but he would act as if he never knew her in the first place - Not a glance or a wave. 

And that was fine with Y/N, at least she tried her best to think it was. Until her meeting with Rob a week before Harry’s album release. 

~

“Y/N, I would love to offer you a job here at the company. I  will give you a position in Marketing for Harry Styles.” Rob hands her a manila folder across the table. “ You know a few months ago, he spoke about your hard work and how much potential you have and he’s right. This would look great on your resume and the pay will be better here than if you were to start off at another company.” 

Days of thinking and non-stop anxiety flooded Y/N’s mind. She knew her plan was to cut all ties with the pop star but the career that had just been handed to her had so much potential. Potentiality can help her with her student loans and give her a more comfortable life. She would be stupid if she passed the offer because of him. So with no more hesitation, she took her phone and called Rob.

“I’ll take the job offer.”

Part two here!!

[jaskiersvalley]

I just reached the bottom of your writings and felt the need to say that i appreciate you. You’re really cool and im happy I stumbled upon you.

You are far far too sweet. This has been sat in my inbox for so long because I don't think anyone has called me cool before and I wanted to bask in that. I really appreciate you too and I'm really happy you stumbled upon my blog. So I hope you're still in the fandom and enjoy this little bit of odd zombie AU.

CW: Zombies, apocalypse, Resdent Evil/Last of Us inspired AU.

Last Hope

Nobody expected the Continent to turn to shit. War had been on the horizon, Nilfgaard was advancing but not once did anyone expect them to have been experimenting with creating superior soldiers to fight for them. Allegedly the idea had been to harvest some of the Continent's monsters' attributes and imbue them into soldiers, creating a new class of warriors. It hadn't worked. But what Nilfgaard did manage to create was a virus like no other before. It turned humans and animals into mindless, violent creatures whose sole purpose was to feed, preferably on human flesh. The virus spread like no other, bringing the whole Continent to its knees.

Pockets of survivors remained, walled up in thick stone keeps. Kaer Morhen was one such sanctuary. Witchers, it turned out, weren't immune to the virus. Letho had watched Serrit and Auckes succumb to it, had put them down before setting light to where they'd been trying to stay safe and he set off to find somewhere, anywhere, that would accept him. The cold didn't impact much on the undead, they still moved just as deadly fast, unencumbered by things like fatigue, hunger or frostbite. Still, he made it up to the keep and was welcomed in. It was probably the most full Kaer Morhen had been in a long time. There were witchers, sorceresses, humans, dwarves, vampires and who knew what else, all coexisting and trying to make the best of their lives.

"I heard rumours," Letho said over dinner. "There's someone immune to this whole wretched thing down South."

"And I heard a rumour that taking a shit over the parapets cures piles," Lambert shot back with a snort. Being cooped up with so many people didn't exactly suit him, even when Aiden was there along with Eskel too.

Yennefer sat up straighter. "I've heard that rumour too. Sent word out that if it's true, we're probably best placed to try and find what makes the person so special. Maybe derive a cure from them."

Not long after, Gaetan arrived with Guxart. And with some news.

"There's a man and a girl travelling North. Allegedly with the hope of a cure."

The others exchanged looks, not wanting to believe rumours. Hope was a dangerous thing, but they could all use a dose of it. Things had been bleak to say the least.

Guxart picked up the story. "There's a lot of people gunning for them. So far they've evaded being captured, left quite a bloody trail too. We saw what remained of a tavern. Allegedly the group living there had been luring in weary travellers with the promise of safety, only to throw them into a fighting ring." Unfortunately such stories weren't unusual, humans had the most disdainful ideas of entertainment at times. Guxart pressed on, "If it was those two then I hope they're not headed here. They left no survivors, cleared out the place of humans and undead alike. It was a massacre."

There was nothing to do but wait. A week passed, then another. The hope they'd felt at the mention of a possible path to a cure dwindled and turned into bitter disappointment at the backs of their minds. It was almost three weeks later that there was a commotion on the path to the old keep. The undead who lurked in the trees were snarling and howling as two figures broke into a sprint on the last stretch of the path, pursued by quite a hoard of hungry zombies.

"Get the gate!" Vesemir bellowed and it was a mad dash to open the gates while armed. They weren't quick enough and a scuffle broke out as the two travellers were up against the gates, the undead descending upon them. A sharp scream went up from what sounded like a young girl. The gate opened and Eskel reached out, pulling her in first before Lambert gruffly yanked her protector in too. The others pushed to slam the gates shut, bolting it once more.

"Cahir! Are you okay?" The girl ignored them all in favour of checking over her guardian, wisps of blonde hair sticking to her sweaty face.

"I'm fine." A gruff answer and the so called Cahir looked up at them with an exhausted, hollow gaze. "This is Kaer Morhen, right? We were told this is where we had to come. She's Ciri, I'm Cahir."

Vesemir stepped forward with a brisk nod. "Welcome. Let's get you settled. From what I hear, you had quite the journey."

Yennefer ushered Ciri away and the others trailed after her, curious to see what someone immune to the virus looked like, acted like. The left Eskel to lead Cahir to a room of his own.

"Nilfgaard's quite a way," he said by way of conversation, ignoring the way Cahir rubbed his wrist under his cloak.

"Vicovaro is even further." The answer was a little prim and offended. "I'm not Nilfgaardian."

"My apologies. If you want to clean up, we have a communal bath in the lower levels. You're welcome to join us."

The offer seemed to go ignored as Cahir simply flopped on the bed and closed his eyes without even kicking off his worn boots. Eskel couldn't begrudge him, such a journey was long and tiring even before the world went to shit. To then have to cross the Continent while chased by who knew how many people wanting his precious charge and the unending masses of undead no doubt made the whole thing exhausting.

Dinner was bubbling away in a large cauldron over a fire and the chores for the day were done. It was quite common for most of the residents of Kaer Morhen to settle in the baths, one of the few remaining luxuries left for them. To everyone's surprise Cahir bumbled in a little while later, still sleep rumpled but without his cloak. It left his ragged and torn shirt in full view, including where one sleeve had been ripped off at the elbow. On his lower arm was a freshly applied bandage with blood that had seeped through in an all too telling pattern. Cries of alarm went up as they spotted the bite.

"You've been bitten!"

"How could you endanger us like this?"

"You idiot!"

It was a cacophony as various witchers jumped out of the baths, reaching for their swords and heedless of their nudity. There was a very real danger in their midst that needed to be taken care of. Cahir held up his hands in a placating manner, surrendering without a fight.

"If I may?" He pulled his shirt over his head and the others tried to make sense of what they were seeing. His body was littered with scars from bites. Some were healed, others still scabbed over. When the trousers slid down, Cahir's legs were no different.

"What the-?" Lambert scowled.

It was the exact moment Yennefer arrived, Ciri in tow. She gave Cahir a once over. "It would seem we made some assumptions. Cahir, when you're rested and fed, I'd like to take a sample of your blood and hair please."

Next to her, Ciri giggled and tucked a strand of hair out of her face. She walked up to Cahir and took his bandaged arm in hand, inspecting his handiwork.

"You're getting better at this," she announced. "Hopefully it's the last one you've taken for me or anyone else though."

Her words were followed by an eerie silence in the baths as the others mulled over everything.

"So-" Eskel rubbed the back of his neck with a small frown, "-is Ciri your daughter?"

A bright laugh bubbled out of Ciri at that. "If only I was so lucky. I was his escort and bodyguard. Our pursuers often assumed that me being so young looking meant I was the immune one and Cahir was protecting me. That deception worked well for us."

Guxart cleared his throat. "We saw a tavern that was a fighting ring."

Both Ciri's and Cahir's faces darkened at that. It was Cahir who answered.

"We survived. But barely." His hand rubbed over his shoulder where a large chunk had been torn out, leaving a visible dent. "Had to lay low and recover for a while after that. Ciri injured her throat."

"And you got a bitch of a fever. You're the worst patient ever, always fidgeting and poking. It's a miracle only that bite got infected so bad."

Cahir stuck his tongue out at Ciri and she poked him in the stomach. In turn Cahir ruffled her hair and danced away. Taking it as a challenge, she dashed after him and gave him a shove that sent him flying, landing with a big splash in one of the baths. Spluttering and laughing, he surfaced.

"Oh you little bitch!" He playfully splashed water in her direction but Ciri let out a scream and the water froze mid arc before dropping into a sad little puddle on the ground.

The others stared at her in awe and horror. She grinned at them with a shrug. "You didn't really think they'd send some random, helpless girl as a bodyguard, did you?"

A hand landed on Ciri's shoulder as Yennefer smiled down at her. "You and I have a lot to discuss. How would you feel about learning how to control your powers even better?"

For the first time since the news that there might be a solution to the virus, hope trickled back into the lives of the residents of Kaer Morhen. It wasn't going to be an overnight solution, they knew it wasn't going to be easy. But they were one small step closer to a safer, happier life and that was more than enough for them after years of despair.

[violetvoid-colorpower-wisp]

A Bit of Transparency

I'm sure y'all have noticed that this blog hasn't been very active in the past month or so. I wanted to come forward and provide a bit of insight to what's been happening behind the scenes, while also discussing where we'll go from here.

TLDR; I've been unmotivated to provide new content to share recently for a variety of reasons, and I've run out of items from my backlog to share. This backlog includes the Origins fic, which I have to put on hiatus for now. I don't know when I'll begin uploading at a more consistent schedule. Until then, I'm opening up a Discord server to have a more casual and direct way of chatting with y'all and bringing you a larger variety of content.

Why Hasn't the Blog been Very Active Recently?

Well... it's complicated. This blog was never really built on the strongest foundations, even if it seemed to be before I went on a soft hiatus.

I came up with the idea behind this AU and made this blog on a whim in the midst of a semi-manic episode. For a few weeks I had an unhealthily strong creative drive and pumped out at least two sketch pages a day, while also working on larger illustrations for this blog and other projects. I also wrote around 200 pages of various fanfic in that time too.

In short, I had no plan and was creating at an unsustainable pace. As I worked, I did eventually come up with a plan for this blog, but ended up burning out before I could begin to actually progress towards the end goal I set.

This burnout wasn't helped by the current state of affairs with this blog. It grew much more rapidly than I was expecting early on, and the fairly high amount of engagement I was getting ended up weaving with my enthusiasm for creating this art. For a while, with both of those incentives in place, I had no problem cranking out content to share. However, more recently... both of those incentives have waned.

Now, I want to be clear: I'm not trying to complain about the number of notes my more recent posts have been getting, and I'm not going to whine about people engaging with my inbox less- I'm just trying to say that the relatively low engagement recently is one of the several factors that has led to me neglecting this blog.

The last nail in the coffin for my creative drive, though, has been my mental health recently. Please don't worry about me, I have all the resources I need, but as of late I've had very poor mental and emotional stamina, and it's made content creation a lot more challenging for me. I haven't been making nearly as presentable artwork, and I've been struggling to find the bandwidth to write. So... and god, I hate to say it, but...

The Origins Fic is Going on a Hiatus

I never wanted to have to do this. It was my goal to always have a few chapters ready to post ahead of time just in case I fell into a rut like I did, but I've run out of the backlog I had built up and just don't have anything else to post for now. I've been trying to work on the next few chapters, believe me, but it's been hard while I deal with my mental health issues.

The Origins fic is currently at a bit of a transition point. We're entering the rising action, and I've been struggling enough to structure its foundation- never mind drafting the next chapter. I don't know how long it'll take me to work out the plot structure and get back into the swing of drafting and editing, and so... I don't know how long the fic will be on hiatus. I don't want to call it "indefinite", but it's the only fitting word.

For now, the Origins fic is on an indefinite hiatus.

And it's not the only thing I've been struggling with.

I'm not Content with the State of this AU

There are a number of things I am no longer happy with when it comes to this AU. I don't want to pull out the exhaustive list here, but one of the reasons I've struggled with posting is that I'm not sure how much I want to change, how people would take retcons and redesigns, and so on.

And it's not just the characters, lore, locations, and such that I'm not content with... it's the medium in which I've been sharing them that's been grating on me recently. The format of a Tumblr blog has left some things to be desired for me. For one, I feel the need to talk in this semi-professional tone, and keep myself at an arms length from y'all to moderate this space. It's tiring for me. I'm a very stream-of-consciousness, casual person, and I love chatting with people on an equal playing field. I also like attention, and sharing WIP's, and basically- I've been pining for a way to shoot the shit with all of you in a different medium than this blog. I think I know the best way to do this.

An Official Voidhog Discord Server

Now, let's make this clear: I'm not deleting or abandoning this blog. I just want a different, more casual way to chat about this AU and share my work. I kind of hope that by opening up this channel of communication, I'll rekindle my interest in working on this AU again.

Why? Because I work best when I can interact with my audience directly. I actually prefer Discord over Tumblr as an art sharing medium in general. Here's the kind of content I can offer a lot more frictionlessly there that I haven't been offering here:

Art Livestreams

Art and Writing WIPs

Casual Q&A (with me and the characters)

Content that Tumblr won't Allow

If any or all of these things interest you, stay tuned. I'll be creating the server today and providing a link to it in another post.

If you've read this far; thank you, and I'm sorry. This blog is in an unideal state, but I hope that changing up how I do things a little and providing stuff through a different medium will revive my creative energy and interest in this AU.

[kalimagik]

Eyes for Her

James Potter x Reader

Marauders Era 

Word Count: ~2.5k

A/N: This is my submission for Millie’s ( @iliveiloveiwrite​ ) writing challenge! It took me some time to actually figure out the direction I wanted to take, but I think I found it and I hope you guys like it! I’m a sucker for a girl that can throw James Potter off his game ;) Feel free to like, comment, reblog, give me a follow! Even send an ask! (My next works will be the requests sitting in my inbox). Feedback always welcome! Happy Reading <3<3

Prompts: (bolded in text)

5. “Are you hitting on me?” “Only for the last year or so but thanks for noticing.”

8. “This is the part where you ask me out and I say yes.”

*Not my GIF! Credits to the owner 

They were friends. They were friends, right? Y/N knew that James existed, she was close with Sirius, so she was around all the Marauders a lot. James wouldn’t say that they were close - exactly. See, James Potter was always charming and smooth talking, especially with the girls in his year, but when it came to Y/N Y/L/N, he was tongue tied. Every. Single. Time.

There was just something about her that shut him down when she was around. He could barely get a coherent sentence out. She was just so beautiful and smart and had the ear of everyone the moment she opened her mouth to speak. Honestly, she could give James a run for his money. She could honestly take his spot in the Marauders and they wouldn’t even notice. Well, he did beat her in one area. He was a notorious ladies man. He’d flirt with them, charm them, but never actually date them because he only had eyes for her. James, recently, had been flirting with other girls more and more as a sort of practice for talking to Y/N. It hadn’t worked up to this point as it was already 6th year.

The other Marauders had noticed James struggle with this over the years and he was not living it down.

“Y/N’s helping me study tonight,” Sirius looked up at James in the Common Room. “You want to try and hang around tonight orrrr?” he smirked as the messy haired boy’s head shot up.

“You really hit a chord there,” Remus snickered, watching the scene unfold.

“Stuff it,” James spat. “I can do this. Tonight is the night I talk to her.”

“Talking is one thing. Will you get full sentences out is the real question.” Sirius pointed out.

James threw a pillow in Sirius’ direction to show the frustration he felt. The boys continued to tease him, but James stuck his nose in a book, pretending to read. In reality, he was planning what he could say to her in his head.

James was in the bathroom. He may or may not have been attempting to comb his hair before Y/N arrived. He looked into the mirror, mentally preparing himself.

“Hello, love. Good to see you. How did you do on that Charms exam? Mhmmm…maybe more aloof? Cheers! Good to see you helping Sirius, he could use all the help he can get –”

“I take personal offense to that one,” Sirius piped up, leaning against the door of the bathroom. “I think you should lead with a joke. That’s your best stuff, Prongs,” he chuckled, rubbing his neck nonchalantly.

“Snub off.” James acted coolly even though he felt wildly embarrassed to be caught in this situation. He was not supposed to be one of those guys that got nervous around a girl and practiced what to say in the mirror.

“Chill out,” Sirius shook his head. “I’m just telling you that she’s walking up here in like 5 minutes, so pull yourself together.”

James followed Sirius out of the bathroom, his hair as if he hadn’t ever combed it to begin with. He just sat on his bed when a knock sounded from the door.

“Ready there, Prongs? Can you act natural?” Lupin baited the short tempered boy.

James could only shoot him a look before Sirius opened the door for Y/N. James felt his voice caught in his throat the second she walked in. She just did everything so effortlessly. She seemed like she didn’t have a care in the world. He was usually like that, but why did she pull the cowardly lion out of him?

“Evening, lads,” she grinned that Cheshire smile. “What have we been up to in here?” she asked as she closed the door.

“James did some primping,” Peter giggled. James made a mental note to hex him later as he sent him a glare.

“For me, Jamesy?” Y/N chuckled before sitting at the foot of Sirius’ bed and opening a book.

“I- uhhh…ummmm, not necessarily…”

“So are you going to help me or not?” Sirius interjected. Despite all his teasing, he could be useful when James felt like he was drowning in front of this girl.

“Right. History of Magic. Why do you always need help for the most boring subject? Couldn’t Remus help you? He’s smart!”

“Moony has refused to help me study History of Magic. He says I make too much of a joke out of it.”

“You do!” Remus called from his four-poster.  

Once all the bantering settled down, the room did fall into a quiet, steady easiness. James pretended to be doing homework of his own while Y/N and Sirius went over Warlock Conventions and Goblin Revolutions. The dates and years too much for even James to follow. But, he wasn’t really paying attention to what they were studying. He was listening to the soft laughter that broke the silence every time Sirius made a joke. He was itching to say something, but what?

“Pads, you ever figure out the logistics of that prank?” Why had he said that? They didn’t even have a prank in the works. Sirius gave him a quizzical look that said he was thinking the same thing.

“Uhhh…” Sirius started.

“You guys are planning a prank? Can I help?” Y/N was fully interested.

This was not where he saw this going. He just wanted something to talk about, something so that she could hear that he could speak.

“Sirius, why didn’t you tell me? You said I could help with the next one!” Y/N playfully slapped Sirius’ arm as she turned back to James. “Tell me about it!”

“Uhhh…well, we were – uhhh…See, Remus concocted this charm and we were going too –” He was stumped there was no plan. He got all twisted up again. He shifted his glance from her focused face to Sirius’, only flashing a hint of ‘HELP ME!’ in his eyes.

James finally let out a sigh of relief as Sirius seamlessly took over. He was pulling bullshit out of thin air. James could usually do that. When Y/N left their room before curfew, James was breathing normally again.

“Hello, earth to James. Can you speak again?” Remus asked tentatively as James fell backwards onto his bed.

“That. Was. A. Disaster.” He spoke slowly, rubbing his hands over his eyes and under his glasses.

“You spoke a full sentence even if it wasn’t directly to her,” Peter offered.

“Shush!” James retaliated. “You literally told her I was primping earlier! I am in my right mind to hex you!” James tossed and turned as he went over the tragedy that turned into in front of Y/N. Maybe tomorrow would be better?

It was a new day and James successfully glided through his morning classes. He’d made a decision the previous night as he listened to Peter’s snores. He was going to ask her out today.

James peered around the corner to look at Y/N, trying to assess his plan of attack. She was surrounded by friends, but they all had been charmed by James before, they would be no issue. Maybe he should complement her or offer to carry her books? No, that would be weird. Or would it be sweet? Ughhh! Nothing seemed to be right!

“What are you doing, Prongs?” Sirius whispered in his ear. James jumped, not expecting anyone to talk to him. “Merlin, Padfoot! What did you do that for?”

“We’ve been standing here for 2 minutes!” James stood up to see that Peter and Remus were also standing behind him.

“You were doing that thing again where you watch Y/L/N.” Moony followed Sirius’s lead.

“Yeah, that’s getting pretty creepy, Prongs.” Sirius chuckled. James instinctively rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He didn’t realize how embarrassing this actually was until they caught him. At least the other Marauders were the ones who caught him and not Snivellus.

“I’m trying to figure her out, okay?” James tried to defend himself. Now that he thought about it, maybe he had been staring at Y/N a little more than usual lately, but that was only because he was figuring out how to approach her on his own.

Around the corner, he could hear the echo of her laugh. Oh, that laugh. The first time he heard it, it sounded like Christmas bells ringing and it just floated across the air. There was something so genuine and happy about the sound. James was hypnotized from that moment on and he knew that he had to take her out or get close to her. He wanted to be the one causing that laugh.

“Prongs? Prongs! JAMES!” Sirius finally got his attention again. “Where did you go there?”

“Did you see the look in his eyes?” Peter teased. “He was obviously thinking about Y/N!!” Peter sang her name and for some reason, that pissed James off.

“It isn’t like that, okay?” James felt his temper starting to flare. They’d all had crushes before, so why was this one the end of the world?

“Why don’t you just breath and talk to her?” Moony asked, actually trying to give some advice or provide his friend with some guidance.

“Of course I have, you prat. The moment I start speaking, my voice just doesn’t work and I forget what I was going to say.”

“You dunce!” Sirius cut James off. “Are we even sure she knows who you are? We know she knows me, but are we sure that you aren’t just the boy that hangs around with us?” Sirius knew he was poking the bear.

“Of course she knows who he is! Everyone knows who James Potter is,” Peter beamed, looking towards James for approval.

“That means nothing. She messes with him occasionally, so we know that,” Remus shook his head.

“Remus is right,” Sirius agreed. “You need to woo her. Do something romantic. That’ll definitely get her attention!”

The other two boys nodded in agreement, but James just stared at them, trying to figure out where they were headed with this.

“What if he does something big in the Great Hall during dinner. If he says her name, then that would definitely get her attention.” Sirius seemed to be calculating what would happen in this big plan.

“Uhhh, guys?” James said.

“I don’t know if big would be the way to go,” Remus replied to Sirius. “Y/N definitely doesn’t WANT everyone looking at her all the time. What if he did something in the library? He could bring her something while she studies? Say she looked like she needed it?”

Peter’s eyes grew wide at the idea as James tried to interject again. “Hello? Mates?”

“Madam Pince would not like that at all.” Peter’s eyes showed fear as he thought about the librarian. “I had a cookie in there once and I still don’t think I can ever unhear her screams…” Peter’s face glazed over as he thought back.

“Wormtail might be right, Moony. There’s no way to scare away a girl like getting her in trouble with Madam Pince. What could he do?”

“You guys do know that I am still here, right?” James was practically waving his hands over his heads to get the other marauders to look at him.

“We know that,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “But you don’t get to be a part of planning this time, Prongs. You’ve messed it up too many times. So, we have decided to take matters into our own hands.”

The boys all stood around whispering while James listened, understanding that he was getting no input. Minutes went by and the ideas seemed to be getting more and more out of hand. If it wasn’t for Remus interjecting, Sirius would have James spelling her name in the sky on his broom. Why was he ridiculously romantic? The whole bad boy thing definitely was used to cover that up. The ideas seemed to be getting better until they were interrupted.

“What are you all doing?” Y/N’s voice spoke a little louder than Peter’s, who was giving his idea. “Are you planning that prank that James mentioned last night?”

“Uhhhh…” All boys were speechless. How did they explain this? They were caught in the act.

He didn’t know what it was, but James felt a surge of confidence and not embarrassment. “My mates were actually trying to help me figure out how to talk to you.”

Peter, Remus, and Sirius’ mouths all fell open, eyes widened to double their usual sizes.

“Talk to me?” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you, love.”

“Love, huh? You’ve never called me that before. All my friends, maybe, but not me.” Oh, how sassy she could be. “James, are you hitting on me?” Y/N asked, head cocked, eyes focused on the boy with glasses.

“Only been trying to for the last year or so, but thanks for noticing.”

“That can be hard to do when you only have so many words to work with.” 

James glanced up to see the smile on Y/N’s face growing, bottom lip between her teeth. The rest of the boys were still in awe that this was happening right now. “So, yeah they were trying to figure out how to make talking to you easier for me. Sirius was being all romantic with these crazy ideas, but Remus wasn’t sure if that would be your style. Peter had –”

“Woah! Woah! Potter!” James quit his nervous rambling the moment her sweet laughter filled his ears. “So if I got this straight, then this is the part where you ask me out and I say yes.” That Cheshire smile was back. The same one that made his heart flutter the night before.

James coughed to clear his throat, planning the words in his head. She looked at him expectantly. She literally just said that she would say yes, so why was he freezing now? “Uhh, right, okay, so Y/N, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Of course, James Potter. I thought you’d never ask! Pick me up for Hogsmeade on Saturday? 10 AM before everyone else leaves? We can grab lunch. See you later, lads,” Y/N waved to the other three before kissing James on the cheek and rejoining her friends.

“Did she-” Peter started.

“Just ask-” Remus followed.

“You out and plan the date?” Sirius followed, completely baffled. “I didn’t even know she liked you, mate!” Sirius slapped James on the back. The boy was still speechless. Did that really just happen? His heart was beating hard in his chest. It must’ve been doing that the whole time and he didn’t even know it.

“Well fellas, I guess I have a date to get ready for,” James grinned, watching Y/N walk away.

[tsarisfanfiction]

I think I drank too much - with ma boi John Tracy, Eye in the Sky?

(I hope you wrestle uni into submssion)

A Bad First Impression

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, John, Penelope

Brain is in default Scott mode (when is it not?), so more Scott than John, but it is John saying the line, so that counts, right?  Haven’t proof read this or anything, but alcohol+John gave me one idea straight away, so here we go!

4am so the other prompt currently sitting in my inbox will have to wait until post-sleep (and probably post-more uni work), but feel free to send more in!

(Uni is... not going down without a fight but I have got my lecturers on my side so it’s not quite as terrifying as it was the other day.  Still got a heck of a lot of work to do, but hopefully it’s survivable now.)

Lightheaded/Fainting Prompts (I know it says ‘starters’ but I figure as long as the line’s in there somewhere it counts).  Or honestly any other prompt games I’ve reblogged are fine, too, just make sure to tell me which one it’s from!)

Scott glowered down at his phone, where his message was stubbornly remaining as sent.  Ideally, he wanted a reply, but it had been five minutes and it still wasn’t even showing as read.

People were sending him disapproving looks, no doubt seeing a stranger with a backpack lurking outside a door and drawing their own conclusions the longer he remained slouched against the wall.  Apparently even in England, people didn’t take too kindly to loitering, and Scott would appreciate it if his brother would hurry up and let him in.

Maybe for some people, five minutes was too soon to be getting cranky, let alone worried, and any of his other brothers, in any other situation, Scott wouldn’t expect an instantaneous reply, but it was John, at midnight.  He should be wired into whatever technology he was playing and receiving messages instantly - especially as Scott should be expected.

The journey had been a long one, jet lag was hammering hard, and he just wanted to greet his brother, catch up for a bit, and then crash out on the couch.  It had been too long since he’d last seen him - why John had decided to go to college in England, Scott had no idea.

Seven minutes, and still no answer.  No little icon assuring him John had even seen it, even though John had known exactly what flight he was on and had been the one to tell Scott how long the taxi would take from the airport.  Scott had fully expected his younger brother to open the door just as the taxi pulled to a halt.

The fact that he was still standing outside, seven minutes later - and midnight in Oxford was not warm - had Scott one part annoyed to three parts worried.

The looks were getting dirtier.  He was surprised no-one had confronted him yet, and hoped that didn’t mean they’d decided against talking and skipped straight to calling the police.

“C’mon, John,” he muttered.  “What’s taking you so long?”

Looking up from his phone again - nine minutes - he caught sight of a pair staggering their way in his direction.  One was ginger, and he straightened, more than a little disbelieving when his younger brother staggered right past him without looking and pawed at the door ineffectually.

“Honestly, John,” the girl he was with - petite, blond, and in high heels that made Scott’s feet ache just to look at (his younger brothers didn’t know about his time in high heels and it was staying that way) - sighed, although the giggle that followed it ruined whatever gravitas she was trying to exude.

There were many things wrong with the sight, from John being not inside, to John looking like he’d been at a nightclub, to John apparently bringing a girl home, but the thoughts all temporarily abandoned his head as John swayed just a little bit more.

“I think I drank too much,” his brother commented, in that sort of detached fashion Scott recognised from his own nightclub experiences, and ignoring the girl, he lunged forward just in time to catch John as he crumpled.

This wasn’t the greeting he’d been expecting.

Nor was the stiletto kick to his chest, winding him and almost making him drop his brother.  It was fortunate his first instinct was always to hold on tighter, otherwise John would probably have just gained a concussion to go with the hell of a hangover he was going to be facing in a few hours.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl demanded, drawing herself up to her full height - and even in those dagger stilettos, still failing to reach Scott’s chin.  “Unhand him at once, or I’ll call the police.”

Scott was tired, grumpy, and had no patience for irritating girls trying to get in with his not interested younger brother.  He straightened, hefting John into his arms - he might be tall, but John had never been a challenge to lift on the rare occasion Scott had carried him - and made a show of looking down at the small female.

“And I suppose you were planning on carrying him inside?” he challenged, shifting John’s weight until he could slip two fingers into his pocket and extract his door key.

John always kept his key in the same pocket.  Scott was glad that hadn’t changed.

“And now you’re trespassing,” she huffed as he fumbled the door open.  “No-one invited you in.  Leave, before I call the police.”

“Actually, I was invited,” Scott snapped, stepping through the door.  “You, on the other hand, are not welcome.  Go home.”

He kicked the door shut with his heel, knowing Grandma - and probably John, in the morning - would be furious with him for leaving her outside by herself at midnight, but not finding it in himself to care right then.

The apartment wasn’t large, just a kitchen with a sofa and a door that Scott determined had to lead to the bedroom and en suite, which meant he heard the front door open again as he shouldered his way into the bedroom.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded.  Scott ignored her as he settled his brother on the bed - planets and stars embellishing the otherwise plain navy comforter.  “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Scott pulled his brother’s sneakers off and set them down on the floor, making a mental note to find where John kept his shoes and put them away properly before his occasionally-clumsy brother tripped over them later.

“Why are you in his apartment?” he asked, kicking off his own shoes and letting his backpack fall onto the floor before pulling himself up onto the bed.  John could sleep in his clothes just fine, but that coat and jumper had to come off before he overheated.

“Are you stripping him?” she shrieked.  “That’s it; I’m calling the police.”

...Okay, Scott could see why it might look bad if she didn’t know who he was.

“Look, miss,” he started.

“Your ladyship,” she interrupted.

“Uh, what?”

“It’s your ladyship,” she said.  “Not miss.  I am Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, and I insist you tell me who you are and why you’re manhandling my friend.”

“John has friends?”  John did intellectual peers, but he’d never cared for friends, mostly because he found it tiring when people couldn’t keep up with him - or tried to force him into socialising, which Scott was starting to suspect this girl, Lady, whatever, had done tonight.  His friends were computers.

“Of course he does, you pervert,” she snapped back.  “Now answer my questions, and if I don’t like the answers, I’m calling the police.”

“Perv-”  Scott interrupted himself with a sigh.  “I take it John didn’t bother to tell you I was coming to visit for the week?”

“Your name,” she insisted, and he rolled his eyes.

“Scott Tracy.  I’m his brother, so if you could stop the ridiculous accusations that would be great, thank you very much.”

“You don’t look related.”

Oh, for-

“You should see the rest of them.”  John shifted against his chest in a quickly-aborted attempt to sit up.  Scott tightened his grip.  “Scott, Lady P.  You won’t get rid of her.  Trust me.  Lady P., my big brother, Scott.  You won’t get rid of him.  Trust me.”

“John-”

“So stop arguing and let me sleep.  My head kills.  Penny, why did you let me drink so much?”

“I was curious what you’d be like drunk,” she answered, completely unapologetic.  “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming.”  She paused.  “Why didn’t you tell me when I came to get you earlier?”

“You’d have accused me of lying to get out of going,” John muttered.  “Sorry, Scott.  Thought I’d be back before you turned up.  Wasn’t expecting to drink so much...”  He trailed off with a yawn, and Scott helped him lie back down.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said - not strictly true, but as far as reunions went it was already terrible.  He had no intentions of worsening it with an argument.  “Get some sleep.  I’ll find you something for the hangover in the morning.”

John was asleep again before he’d finished talking, and with a fond smile, Scott slipped off the bed and pulled the covers loosely over him.

Then, he eyed the blonde in front of him.  John didn’t like socialising, and yet she’d dragged him out regardless - and apparently never took no for an answer.

Scott did not like the implications of that.

“We need to talk,” he said, quietly enough not to wake John, but seriously nonetheless.  Blue eyes flicked from him to John and then back again.

“Yes,” she agreed.  “I suppose we do.”

[votederpycausemufins]

And this is the end of the story. Sort of. I’m going to do one or two more ‘chapters’ that are more just... you guys send me asks about the story and I’ll compile them into a chapter or two. it can be stuff like ‘i didn’t fully understand this’ or ‘can you tell more about that’ or ‘what if X happened instead.’ I’m also doing this on the Ao3 side since more people have been commenting there, but you can still use my inbox or leave messages on this post itself, whatever works for you.

Of course, all this is possibly due to the Hermit!Tommy au being created by @petrichormeraki

Mumbo groaned as he woke up, most of his body aching for some reason. Looking around, he was glad to see he was in his own bed at least. Next to him, curled up in the covers was Jrumbot who seemed to be hooked up to his redstone chargers. Mumbo patted his son’s head before pushing himself up so he could look around.

Grumbot was propped up in a nearby chair, also asleep and charging. The door to the room was cracked open and Mumbo could hear voices coming from somewhere behind it. His eyes were then drawn to an item frame with a mask of his robot skin. At least it seemed to be similar if not exactly the same. Most likely Grian had hung it up because he sure didn’t himself.

Mumbo dragged himself out of bed and walked towards whoever was talking. Getting closer, he could recognise Tommy and Grian’s voices, but there seemed to be a third person there as well. It was probably someone from Tommy’s old world, so Mumbo wasn’t too worried.

Before he could quite tell what exactly they were discussing, they stopped as Grian noticed Mumbo walking their way. “Mumbo! You’re awake!” The avian went over and hugged Mumbo before pulling him over and using the redstoner as something to lean against, nearly pushing him over in the process. “How are you feeling?

“Like I got crushed working on a redstone project with pistons. What are you wearing?” Mumbo saw Grian’s Watcher mask, not having seen it before.

“Oh this? Well… uh, you hit your head pretty hard back there, what do you remember?” Even though the mask covered Grian’s eyes, he could tell that the avian was sending glances to Tommy and the other person in the room.

“I remember up to confronting Dream after we got you back. But much after that is a bit fuzzy. I still remember bits and pieces of course.”

“Told ya.” The unfamiliar voice spoke and Mumbo finally got the chance to turn and look where their guest was sitting. He almost drew his weapon when he saw them, but he held himself back.

“Why’s Dream here?” Mumbo hazarded a glance back to Grian, hoping for an answer but Tommy was the one to answer instead.

“Not Dream, this is Drista. She’s Dream’s sister but she’s cool.” Mumbo accepted that answer as he could see the resemblance with their taste for similar mask styles.

“Yep, sorry about that. You panicked and attacked and I clocked you over the head.” Mumbo frowned at her cheerful tone but then Grian spoke and drew his attention away from the girl.

“As for the mask, while I’m mostly fine, there’s still some stuff I’m recovering from and the Watchers panicked since someone was able to mess with me and gave me a prescription for these. I might even keep them because it helps me not go crazy when in a Watcher State.”

Mumbo nodded, glad for the explanation. Then he turned his attention to Tommy. “Tommy? I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I wasn’t in a good headspace at the time. I of course can’t recall everything I was thinking at the time, but either way, I want to apologize.”

Tommy just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Grian told we what shit was going on since he talked with you. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

Mumbo started to open his mouth to reply, but Grian stopped him. “Can you go wake the kids? They’ve been charging for a while and I think they’ll want to be up now that you’re awake.” The Redstoner hesitated, but did agree and headed back to his room. Once he was far enough away, Grian sighed. “That was close.”

“I’m sure he won’t have a complete mental breakdown if you bring up the VGs.” Drista said, leaning back against the wall behind her. “If anything happens, just slap the mask back on and then pull it off, it should pull it away.”

Grian crossed his arms, wings folding tightly behind him. Even though they couldn’t see his face well, he still looked down to the ground. “It still doesn’t feel right. He essentially is always going to have one part of his life he can’t remember.”

Drista gave an exasperated groan. “Oh stop complaining! He wanted this because he wanted to stay with you for whatever reason. He can always just stay a Vault God and you can never see him again. How’s that sound?” Grian was quiet. “That’s what I thought. Welp, now that we know he’s fine, I’m out of here.” And then she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo didn’t stay with Crumb and Sparklez for too long, needing to get admin training from Xisuma with Ranboo. Xisuma would not admit to a single person how many times he needed to take something for the headaches he got from teaching the two of them, but after interacting with the other smp members, he was perfectly fine with the current pair.

The smp island didn’t last long as members griefed it so many times that Scar finally threw his hat down and said he wouldn’t fix it anymore. He tried two more times after that, but it was the principle of the matter. The area was moved further away to a larger chunk of land that wasn’t too close to anyone’s base so that way the smp members could still have a place to start in Hermittown but also have areas to expand to. Most people went back and forth, though Philza seemed to be taking up a permanent residence in the town. 

Grumbot went to visit his grandpa once, but he quickly was given the rule of not being able to go alone after that when he immediately tried to set up an election for mayor of the town. Techno tried to attack him, but he forgot the details of Grumbot being a robot, specifically one that had extensive knowledge of political figures, and Techno being both a former prince and an anarchist, the bot had a good idea of how to defend against the warrior. He still needed repairs when Grian arrived to scold him, but no one died.

After Tubbo had learned enough from Xisuma, he went back to traveling around with his dad and Crumb. It would never be longer than a week, but it was painfully obvious when he was gone as Tommy would seem down. At the very least there were a few times that Tommy was able to go along with Tubbo to see the sights.

Tommy and Mumbo eventually warmed up to each other again, mainly because Grian forced them to do more things together. They finally seemed to officially be on good terms after dragging a few smp members into Hermit Challenges together.

Grian attempted another war, which started poorly as the smp members jumped to conclusions and escalated on their own. Tubbo and Ranboo had to step in to stop it for the hermits to give them a rundown of how wars worked on the server. There were a few hiccups after that, but for the most part, things went well.

After Hbomb had first gotten a tour of the server and had seen Cub’s base, he ended up mining a large amount of ancient debris and making a wall of it on the smp side as a social experiment. It lasted longer than he thought, but still didn’t last all that long. After a few weeks he made a second one and was pleasantly surprised to see it stand longer than the first had.

With Dream gone, things started to calm down for the smp members, but a number of them still tended to wake up thinking things were back how they used to be. Mumbo ended up buying a space close to Odea and making a therapy shop which did quite well. He was also pleasantly surprised to see the Odea store suddenly getting sales as the smp members seemed to actually want the services.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian sat on the railing on the balcony of his mansion, right under the large G. Next to him was Tommy and they looked down at the two teams of four people doing a barge box quest. Grian specifically wanted two hermits and smp members on each team for a better balance and he had even reduced the prices for the smp members specifically. Sure it was a competition, but really Grian wanted the two worlds to get along.

“Didn’t Scar say you did this in the last one?” Tommy looked over at Grian who didn’t take his eyes off the people below.

“Hmm, sort of. It’s a little different. They’re placing blocks instead of putting them in the chest. Mumbo helped with the redstone for it. It cycles placing blocks inside so you can’t just take them all out and not do anything. There’s a delay once the last block is out so after a short bit they’ll get their note saying where to fly to next.”

Tommy nodded, glad Mumbo wasn’t the one telling him this and making it sound even more complicated. “How’s he doing by the way? That war got a little crazy near the end.”

“He’s fine. I made up some excuse for the mask. Accidentally overcharged it with Watcher magic so only for extreme emergencies.”

“Sorry for being busy end-busting.”

“Not your fault. It sounds like it was fun.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, Tubbo only tried cheating once. Xisuma noticed almost immediately and called him up to scold him. I didn’t even realize he was doing it in the middle of a fight.”

“Speaking of, why didn’t Tubbo bring you back when he teleported home to deal with things?”

“So we could continue once he was done with that. We want to kick back and relax, not get in another war.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Our wars are too good for you!”

Tommy and Grian laughed until Grian noticed one group start flying off, the second group not that far behind. “Alright, time to head to the third checkpoint. You want a head start before I beat you there?”

“Hey Big G, that’s not fair. You got those fucking wings of yours.”

“That’s why you get a head start.” Grian smirked, making Tommy realize what was about to happen and he immediately jumped off the balcony and used a rocket to propel himself in the direction of the next checkpoint.

“See you later bird boy!”

“Not if I get you first!” Grian yelled back. He would give Tommy a few minutes, but then the gloves were off. He loved how grumpy Tommy looked when he carried the blond while flying. And any chance to make a little game of it was something Grian liked. “Alright, that’s enough time.” And then he was in the air, flying off towards his brother.

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

I Just Want My Heart Back: Sam Winchester x Reader

A/N: Hello friends! Well, I thought it was time to update my Supernatural masterlist since I’ve been writing so much for Marvel and Harry Potter. It’s been way too long since I wrote something that wasn’t holiday related for Supernatural and after talking to a very good friend, I came up with this! 

BIG shoutout to @calaofnoldor because she gave some wonderful little nudges and suggestions for this and I’m quite proud of how quickly I put this together. The title for this was her idea, as well as this GIF so thank you lovely for all your help!

Warnings: Angst, swearing, breakup, jealous!Sam, mentions of sex, boobs (yep that’s a warning lol) and implied sex but nothing too filthy cause y’all know that’s not how I roll (and I want y’all to use your imaginations too ;))

Word Count: 4,383 

Supernatural Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

Feedback is greatly appreciated! Tag lists requests are OPEN as well as my inbox!

*Italics are flashbacks and POV*

-Monique

“I don’t think this is working out,” Sam says, coming to you one day after a hunt gone bad.

“What isn’t working out?” You ask, looking up to the taller Winchester.

“Us, you and me. You living and working with us. All of it.” He says, refusing to make eye contact.

“What? What do you mean it’s not working out? What’s the problem? I’ve been living with you and Dean for the last two years! Why is there suddenly an issue?” You question.

“Well lately, (Y/N) you’ve been really reckless on these hunts we’ve been going on,” he answers, still not looking at you.

“What? Reckless? I’m a hunter, Sam. I take chances just like you and Dean do and they don’t always go as planned, like today.”

“Exactly, that was really stupid of you to go in that warehouse by yourself,” he says as you’re taken back to the events of the day.

“Alright, Sam, you and I will scout out the warehouse, see if we come across any vics. (Y/N) I need you to be on the lookout and alert us if someone’s coming,” Dean said, with Sam next to him, guns aimed and ready to fire. But they looked to you and you were nowhere to be found.

“(Y/N)?” Dean whisper yells for you.

“Dean!” Sam says, panic filling his voice. The youngest brother pointed in the direction of where he was looking straight ahead, seeing you running inside the warehouse.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells as he and Sam run after you.

You were too far ahead to hear them running after you until it was too late. An entire pack of vampires had rushed you, trying desperately to sink their teeth into you. A good dozen or more were surrounding you and you began swinging, taking your knife to slice off the heads of the monsters as they grew too close. Screams of the victims could be heard as you fought hard, soon realizing you went alone. Just as one vamp lost its head, another was right behind you and sank its teeth into your shoulder. You scream out in agony; the venom was quickly spreading through your body.

“(Y/N)!” Sam yells to you, watching as you fall to the ground; the pain bringing you to your knees.

“Sam, we can’t stop, there are too many vamps out here!”

“She’s going to turn into one of them if we don’t help her, Dean!”

“Cas! If you can hear us, get your feathery ass down here and save (Y/N)!” Dean yells and then, a fluttering of wings came down in front of you.

“Hello (Y/N), let me take a look at you,” Cas says, kneeling beside you and carefully moving your collar of your shirt away from where you were a bit. You hiss out in pain as the wound was now exposed to the air around you.

“Alright (Y/N) luckily I was able to get here just in time before it got too bad so I can heal you enough now to transport you back to the Bunker but I’ll have to extract the venom from you later. okay?” Cas explained.

“Just, do it!” You cry and a blinding light flashed around you, causing you to lose your sight for just a moment but the sound of vamps being killed was the last thing you heard.

 “Alright, I admit, that wasn’t the best decision I could’ve come up with but I’m okay!”

“Yeah, but today wasn’t the first time you got hurt really bad on a hunt!” Sam yelled, suddenly making himself seem even bigger than he already was.

“What are you saying, Sam? You want me to leave?”

“Yes. I can’t keep worrying about you getting hurt because you’re too damn stubborn to listen to a damn thing Dean or I tell you! We’re more experienced hunters, (Y/N), we know what’s safe and what’s not. We can’t that burden over our heads,” He says.

You felt the tears brimming to the surface of your eyes but with the words he just spoke, you couldn’t let him see you upset.

“Alright, um, I’ll go pack my things and be out of your way.” You say, brushing past your now ex-boyfriend, but making sure to hit him hard as you did so.

When you reached your room, a photo of you and Sam sat on the end-table beside your bed, the smiling faces just mocking you. Grabbing the frame, you throw it across the room and scream at the broken glass now scattered across the floor.

“Fuck you, Sam Winchester!” You yell, hoping to anyone that he was listening.

You and Sam had always been close and just recently started dating. Sure, it was challenging but you thought since you were in the business too, it would be easier to work out any differences you may face; you were clearly mistaken. Taking a duffel bag from out of your closet, you throw all your clothes and toiletries inside, packing up furiously. When you were sure you had everything, you find a scratch piece of paper and write up a note for Dean. You and he were close too; he was like your older brother.

 Dean,

I am so sorry to be writing you this letter but I’ve been informed that I should not be living or hunting with you and Sam anymore. Apparently, I am a burden to you guys and you don’t want to have to worry about my well-being on every case. I guess I am just like you though; stubborn as a mule. I thought that was a good thing but according to Sam, it’s not. I thought he and I could work through anything because I became a hunter too, but I was wrong about that, too.

I’m not sure where he and I went wrong, but today was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I love him, Dean, I really do, but I guess he doesn’t love me enough to keep fighting for a relationship with me. I have a friend who’s a hunter who offered a place for me to stay and is willing to teach me new skills to improve myself as a hunter and who knows, maybe by then, Sam will actually want me around as a partner.

I’m going to miss eating greasy burgers and staying in cheap motels and watching Western’s with you but this is for the best. I can’t be around someone who doesn’t want me around and Sam has made that very clear that he doesn’t care about me anymore.

Here’s my address of where I’ll be staying at for a while; just don’t tell Sam where I’m at. I need to grieve the loss of one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I wish him well though, please tell him that.

I hope to stay in touch with you; you’ve always been like a big brother to me. I love you Dean and I’ll call you when I get to my new home.

Love, (Y/N)

Folding up the paper, you grab your bag and your keys for your car. Walking past Dean’s room, you slide the letter under his door and knock on it, before rushing towards the stairs out when you heard Sam calling for Dean.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asks when he opens his door, noticing the note in front of him.

“I think I found a case for us to work. What’s that?” Sam said, looking at the paper in his brothers’ hand. Just then, the sound of a vehicle starting and driving away interrupted them.

“Who’s leaving?” Dean asked, walking out to the War Room; Sam remaining silent. “What?”

Sam remained quiet for a while until Dean starting growing angry.

“(Y/N) left,” Sam finally said.

“What? What do you mean, (Y/N) left?” Dean asked, still furious with his little brother.

“Where did she go, Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, avoiding the conversation he just had with (Y/N).

Just then, Dean remembered the letter that was on his bedroom floor. He reached for it from his back pocket and opened it.

Sam watched as Dean’s eyes bounced back and forth across the page; he was starting to feel guilty.

“You told her to leave?” Dean asked, in a calm voice but Sam didn’t peak.

“Answer me, Sammy! Did you tell (Y/N) to leave?!” Dean’s voice escalated.

“Yes,” Sam simply answered.

“Great, you know she’s gone, right? She said we see her as a burden? Did-did you tell her that?!”

“Yes,”

“Oh my God, Sam! That’s just great! You know she was the best thing that ever happened to you and you just push her away like that? Why?”

“She was always getting hurt, Dean? What was I supposed to do? Tell her she was doing a good job at constantly getting hurt?” Sam yelled back to his brother.

“Yes! She was stubborn like we are but she was willing to become a hunter just so she could be with you, Sammy! She loved your dumb ass and what, because she got hurt all the time, you stopped loving her?”

“No, I-I never said I don’t love her anymore,”

“Well, she thinks you don’t love her! And you know what else she said in this letter? She said she needs time to grieve the best thing that ever happened to her!”

Sam was quiet for a minute, letting his brothers’ words sink in. The girl he was in love with, was gone forever, all because he hated how stubborn she was and how she never listened. She was just like him and that bothered him. He didn’t want her to be like him, so broken and hurt, but she was also good. She was beautiful and had a positive outlook on life; always bringing happiness to the brothers when they were down. She was young and full of life, always caring about everyone else before herself and maybe that was why she always got hurt. But she loved Sam and he couldn’t understand why, but he felt lucky to have her. Maybe he was overreacting; he got hurt a lot too. It was part of the job to get hurt saving people’s lives and not everyone could do it but (Y/N)? She was good at it because she cared for people so much, way more than he or Dean even could.

“Did she say where she was going?” Sam suddenly asks, growing worried about where she had gone.

“She did, but she doesn’t want you to know. You really hurt her, Sam,” Dean said.

“I know, I fucked up bad. I thought if she wasn’t here anymore, that she couldn’t get hurt, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about her so much. At least, if she went away, she would be safe, but I don’t even know that to be true,” Sam confesses.

“Your plan just completely backfired on you,”

“Yeah, I made things worse, and for what?”

“Because I thought this was the best way to protect her and when she got hurt, Dean, she was almost always near death. I-I couldn’t stand seeing her like that because I knew there was a better way but she always had to go down the harder and more painful path.”

“Yeah, and you know why she did that?” Dean asked.

“Why?”

“Because she was a Winchester. She was stubborn and hard-headed but she is a fighter and she always believed in the best in people. And what did you do? You tried to penalize her for it,” Dean said.

“I know, I really fucked up here. I gotta try and find her, Dean. Tell her I was wrong,” Sam said, going to grab keys for one of the vehicles the brothers owned.

“Dude, she doesn’t want to see you,” Dean reminded him of the letter.

“Well, she didn’t leave that long ago. She couldn’t have gotten too far; I have to try,” Sam argued back.

“Want me to go with you?” Dean asked but Sam shook his head.

“I need you to stay here just in case she comes back home,” Sam says before realizing the Bunker wasn’t (Y/N)’s home anymore. “Just stay here.”

Sam grabbed a jacket and his phone before rushing off to the garage and jumping in behind the wheel of a car. Just before he sped away, Dean came out to the garage with a set of keys in his hands.

“Here,” he said, tossing the keys to Sam.

“Baby? You’re letting me take her?” Sam questioned, surprised that his brother trusted him with his most prized possession.

“Yeah, she’s pretty reliable and will get you where you need to go. Plus, (Y/N) loves her. If you do end up catching up with her, the least you can do is show up in a good-looking car,” Dean smirked as Sam threw the other keys back to him. 

Throwing the car into drive, Sam sped out of the garage, desperate to find (Y/N) and hoping he wasn’t too far behind her. He wanted to apologize to her, tell her he still loved her, and was only speaking out of frustration. Of course, he wanted her to stay and keep hunting with him and Dean but he worried about her a lot, and seeing her hurt all the time, wasn’t good for anyone. Maybe he was being selfish but he thought he was doing the right thing for everyone when he really was hurting the one person who meant the most to him. He pushed the gas pedal down as hard as he could, not caring about the speed limits, and looking around to see if her vehicle had stopped anywhere, as his mind kept wandering off to the letter she left for Dean. Why didn’t she leave one for him? Did he hurt her that bad? 

Sam’s POV

Damnit, I shouldn’t have told her to go and now, I can’t find her. What if I do find her and she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore? She easily could tell me to go to hell; I mean I did that already but it would be worse hearing it from her. Would she ever let me explain where I was coming from? If she didn’t, I don’t think I would blame her; I wouldn’t let me explain. I hadn’t realized how long I had been driving for but it was starting to get dark. My speed had decreased drastically as I figured I should pull over and rest for the night. It’d be no good for me driving at night when I was this upset over the whole situation. Maybe this still made me seem selfish but I didn’t want to end up dead before I got to her. Seeing a small bar off the side of the road, I go to pull into the parking lot, searching for (Y/N)’s car just in case she had done the same as me. 

Getting out of the car, I lock Baby up and head inside, anxious to see if (Y/N) was there. Looking around the room, I’m met with a bunch of unfamiliar faces. I walk to the bar and order a shot of whiskey. The liquid burned as it went down my throat and temporarily made me feel better but that feeling went away quickly. Just as I was about to order my next shot, I look over out of the corner of my right eye and see that familiar face; the one who had been driving me insane. 

She was sitting at a booth with some guy who couldn’t keep his hands off of her but she didn’t seem to mind. Was she crazy?! This guy is disgusting! How could she be okay with him touching her? I’m the only one who is allowed to touch her. Wait, no, I can’t think like that; I’m the one who broke up with her. But did she have to be looking at him with those big (y/e/c) eyes? And that perfect smile? She used to look at me like that all the time and now? My last memory of her was the look of pure sadness and somber; like I just kicked a puppy or something. No, I just broke her heart. Alright, I hate myself but I need to do something about it instead of just sitting here and watching her fall all over some random guy. I may regret this later but I figure I should go with it and see what happens.

“Hey baby, there you are. I was starting to worry about you,” I say, pulling a chair over to sit on the opposite side of where her “date” was. She looked over at me with a look of disgust but my jealous side told me I was doing the right thing. 

“Go away, I don’t want to talk to you,” she says, turning back to the other guy, so I did the next best thing I thought to do. I stand up and wrap an arm around her waist, hoisting her over my shoulder. She screamed and started cussing me out, causing everyone to look at us. 

“Just our honeymoon is all, she’s a bit nervous,” I lied, looking at the bartender who just nodded his head and smirked; dirty old man. Walking back out to Baby, (Y/N) hits my back several times, telling me I must’ve lost my mind to be treating her like this and she is going to fucking scream when I finally let her down. 

“(Y/N) please, just let me explain,” I say, finally setting her down but still holding onto her arm.

“Why should I Sam? You made it very clear that we were over and that I was a burden to you; why can’t you just let me go? I just want my heart back because you destroyed it,” She says trying to wiggle free from my grasp.

“I can’t let you go,” I say, letting her out of my hold.

“You just did a few hours ago!” She says, growing frustrated with me.

“I didn’t mean anything I said back then; I’m so sorry,” I try to reason with her but I can tell she’s not buying it. 

“Why even say it then?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes at me. 

“I was talking out of my frustration. I hate seeing get hurt; you’ve almost died more than once. I hate that you’re just as much a Winchester as Dean and I are; just as stubborn. But you’re a damn good hunter and we’ve gotten better at this job because of you. I can’t imagine not having you hunt with us anymore; you’re too damn important to me now. I want you to stay; I need you to stay.”

She was quiet for a minute then spoke up, “you told me I was a burden to you, Sam. Do you know how that made me feel? You made me think you didn’t love me anymore. So when you told me to leave, I couldn’t fathom the words that were coming from your mouth. I sat in my car about a mile outside the Bunker and balled my eyes out. Do you not realize what you mean to me? I love you, Sam, but you just tossed me aside like I was nothing.” 

“That wasn’t my intention, (Y/N)! I-I thought I was protecting you!” I yell.

“Okay you really don’t want to be yelling at me right now when you’re already on thin ice here, Winchester,” she warns and I apologize. 

“I promise, that wasn’t what I meant to do. I thought I was protecting you by telling you, you were a burden on us. I knew that if I asked you not to hunt with us for a while, you’d just argue with me about why that’s not fair, so I figured if I told you that it was becoming too difficult for us to always care for you, that you would sit back yourself. And then it spiraled out of control from there and I kept up with the act that I didn’t care about you because I had to make you believe that you weren’t safe hunting. I never told you I didn’t love you; I can’t believe you thought that. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone else and I know that’s a lot to hear because we’ve only really been dating for a short time but we started off as friends first and I knew from that very first day you came to us for help on a case, that I loved you. And then when you told me you had feelings for me too, I was so happy because finally, here’s this amazing woman who understands the business because she does it herself and I love her. But I talked to Dean and he made me realize I probably made the biggest mistake of my life and I am so, so sorry. I only said everything I did because I cared too damn much about your well-being. And I know, it’s dumb and doesn’t make any sense but it’s the truth. I hope you can forgive me and we can go back to just being us. And I am so sorry you cried; I hate when you’re sad. But if you’ll let me, I want to make it up to you.” 

There was silence was settled between us for an agonizing amount of time before she did something I wasn’t expecting. She quickly closed the space between us and grabbed the back of my head to pull me into a kiss. Instantly, I grab onto her hips, holding her into place, while my lips let her know how much I truly missed her. I was growing tired of leaning over so I lifted her to my level, easily able to intensify the kiss. She held onto the back of my shirt like she was afraid she was dreaming and I would disappear at any minute, but I tried to convince her that I wasn’t going anywhere; I was too far invested in this. I broke the kiss for a minute, looking at the beautiful girl in my arms. 

“I have an idea,” I said, setting her down and unlocking the car. She watches me closely as I unlock the door she was standing closest to and open the door to her. 

“Get in,” I say. She does but doesn't understand what I was implying until I grabbed the bottom hemline of my shirt and lifted it over my head. When she realized what my idea was, she followed my lead, lifting her shirt over her head and threw it on the floor of the car. I duck down and make my way inside to the back seat, hovering over her as she lays across the seat. She looked up at me, never breaking eye contact until I kissed her again. My hands traveled down her body, and she reacted to my touch, back arching into me. She pulled away to remove her bra before attaching her lips to mine again. As more and more articles of clothing were being removed, she broke the silence for a minute.

“You know, Dean is going to kill us when he finds out we had sex back here.” 

I laugh, knowing she was telling the truth and thinking what my brother’s reaction was going to be.

“Well, he doesn’t have to know; we’ll get her cleaned before we go back to the Bunker,” I say, trying not to make a big deal out of what we had planned. 

“Oh, I don’t know, plus, how many times has he had sex back here?” She asked and I paused to think about it.

“You know, you’re probably right. I’m sure it’s been numerous times! Wanna just go check into that motel over there?” I suggest, throwing my head to the side to motion to the motel. 

“I mean, that’s tempting but equally as disgusting. You know how questionable those rooms are! If we’re going to have sex, I want it to be special!” She kept her stance on the topic. 

I sigh but realize she was right. I didn’t want to just sleep with her in the backseat of a car or at a dingy motel. As much as I was really wanting to go through with this, I figured we would have a much better time back at the Bunker. 

“Alright, how about we just make out like some crazy teenagers for now and save the rest for later,” I suggested, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She laughs for a moment before reaching down to pick her bra back up but I stopped her.

“Why don’t you just leave that off for now,” I say, eyes trailing down to ger exposed chest before a devilish grin made its way across my face. Her cheeks redden but she throws the bra back and brings me back for another kiss, my hands traveling their way over each breast, savoring the way her skin felt against mine. I missed this feeling; having her with me and exploring every part of each other. And not just for a day or just to ‘scratch an itch,’ but because we loved one another and I needed her to know just how vital she was to my life. Without her, I cannot go on; I know this from experience so I knew I needed to do whatever it took to make her realize that I loved her. 

And after a while and we began our journey home, my hand in hers as she sang along to the cassette tapes Dean had, I knew I finally found the happiness that I thought I couldn’t find because of the life I chose to lead and a life I prayed would never change. It may have been selfish to desire a happiness such as this but I also know I struggled to find peace so now that I have it, it’s like a precious artifact that I will fight to protect at all costs, no matter the risk to my own life, because that I what you do when you love someone. 

Taglist: @tloveswriting @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking @440mxs-wife @angeredcrow @baby1967impala @suckmysupernatural @slutforfics @sam-winchester-admiration-league @awesomesusiebstuff @hobby27 @spnjediavenger @polina-93 @simpleb00x​

[scarlet--wiccan]

(1/?) The MCU is going on a specific direction and might touch Wanda's history of mental illness. Maybe talk about that when you have the time? Wanda was going on a nice direction before all that happened.

Whew! Sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this— I have several super-long message chains like this one in my inbox and they’re hard to parse through and harder still to write a real answer for. I’m gonna try through a couple of these today.

Well, I think you hit all the important points here-- the optics of a mixed-raced family of first- and second- gen Holocaust survivors committing mass acts of terrorism, becoming rulers of a fascist, supremacist regime, and then, finally, committing pseudo-genocide, are, you know, not great. These are complicated characters whose representation can easily swing in either really positive or really, really negative directions, but this goes beyond the pale for me, especially given the proximity to 9/11.

The portrayal of Wanda's mental illness during this time, while not wholly unsympathetic, is wildly inaccurate and generally played as a horror motif. I'm not an expert on schizophrenia, but I think we can all agree that it's high time we moved past exploiting sick and disabled people's experiences for cheap scares. It's especially frustrating because Wanda, as a character, does have ground for poignant stories about mental illness-- she's had numerous traumatic experiences, starting with generational trauma and a lifetime of violent discrimination, and ending, at that point, with the deaths of her young children and the abrupt dissolution of her marriage. Her mental health should be addressed, but not in a way that demonizes illness or characterizes sick people as villains. One thing I appreciate about Robinson's Scarlet Witch is that it represents her mental illness in a very human, matter of fact manner and gives her the power to take control of her own wellness. She has realistic symptoms and pursues realistic treatments, instead of, you know, making hallucination constructs and getting mind-probed by Charles fucking Xavier.

Wanda is simultaneously infantilized and vilified in these stories-- she's denied agency at every turn, and yet, Wolverine and the other "heroes" of this saga view her with unbridled contempt, and most of them are immediately ready to murder her in the name of justice, even before the "no more mutants" spell was cast. You wondered how Bendis was able to inspire such a long lasting hatred of Wanda, and I think the simple answer is that almost every character in House of M hates Wanda. The characters you root for, the characters whose perspectives dictate the tone of the story, direct palpable fury towards her, and even those who aren't out for her blood don't extend any actual empathy towards her-- most are ambivalent to her wellbeing, while Xavier and Strange are incredibly paternalistic.

The final spell, "no more mutants", has baffled me for years. You're spot-on in saying that Wanda here represents a self-hating minority, but it's really hard for me to understand how she could have reached that point. It's not consistent with her previous characterization, nor is it thematically connected to the factors which led to her breakdown. Bendis places the onus of her condition on Erik, alleging that he abandoned and abused his children in his fanatic commitment to the mutant cause, which, besides being a willful misinterpretation of canon, has nothing to do with Wanda's current circumstance-- she's like this because Agatha Harkness altered her memories, because the Avengers continuously gaslit her, and becaue Mephisto killed her kids in the first place. It has nothing to do with Magneto, and Wanda's breakdown has nothing to do with mutant politics. She and Pietro were raised in a loving family until their adoptive parents were killed by racists. Erik didn't knowingly abandon them, and while he did mistreat them during the Brotherhood days, it wasn't parental abuse because he wasn't a father figure to them-- neither party had any idea they were related. Bendis is evoking specific forms of trauma that never actually happened, while ignoring the ones that did, and the effects of the spell itself are vague and seemingly random.

~~~~~

Young Avengers does call back to Wanda's circumstances in Disassembled and HoM, but it doesn't execute the concept of reality-warping in the same way. The driving force in YA is the spell which Billy casts, and Loki tampers with, in the first issue. It is a spell which distorts reality, but it has specific parameters, and neither party is characterized as "crazy" the way Wanda was. The spell was intended to bend space and time so that Billy could pull Teddy's mom from the past, before she was killed, into the present-- it's not dissimilar from how Wanda "retroactively reincarnated" her kids. Due to Loki's interference, however, the spell was hijacked by an interdimensional parasite called Mother. The Mother virus appears primarily as a construct of Teddy's mom, but as her influence over the Earth-616 dimension grows, she's able to create constructs of other dead parents, and even mind-control living adults. All of the ways in which reality is being warped hinge on the specific conditions under which Mother was summoned, and while it is Billy's magic that's fueling these constructs and distortions, they aren't symptoms of psychosis-- Billy doesn't lose control of his magic because he's losing his mind, he loses control because he's too young and inexperienced to protect himself from predatory forces. Those forces do take advantage of his depression and anxiety, but his condition is never the cause.

Loki's magic is wrapped up in the spell, too, but rather than conjuring dead parents, it emerges as a construct of their former best friend, Leah. Loki, in Young Avengers, is a mashup of two personae-- the reincarnated child Loki, and Ikol, a phantom of their past life who is carrying out the previous Loki's evil will even though their heart isn't in it. Ikol has mostly overshadowed Loki, who has been reduced to a ghost that torments Ikol by acting as a constant reminder of their guilt. Ikol is haunted by their past, but it's important that this haunting is a nuanced metaphor and not literal hallucination, as Wanda's condition was in HoM. Because Loki's power is part of the spell, Kid Loki's ghost is able to hijack the reality distortions to summon the construct of Leah, who, in turn, is able to summon the Young Avengers' other exes, the same way that Mother, in the form of Teddy's dead mom, can summon other dead parents.

Loki does raise the question of whether or not Billy might be subconsciously influencing Teddy with his powers, but this is clearly illustrated as a manipulation tactic and disproven several times. Loki's original goal in summoning Mother was to draw out Billy's full magical potential so that they could steal his power for themselves. Driving a wedge between Billy and Teddy, and causing Billy to question his own sanity, were devices to make Billy more susceptible to having his power stolen, and they worked-- Billy is not able to divest his magic from the spell and banish Mother from Earth-616 until he overcomes his self-doubt and start exercising mindfulness. Loki, in turn, is not able to divest their power from the spell and banish Leah and the other exes until they own up to their guilt and admit everything they've done. Both characters are experiencing symptoms of exacerbated mental illness-- Billy's depression and suicidal ideation, Loki's disassociation-- but their mental illness is not the source of their magic, but a challenge which makes it harder for them to live as their fully realized selves... just as it would be for any normal person.

I know that was a long-winded explanation, but I wanted to illustrate what sets Gillen's take on "reality warping" apart from Bendis's. It's based on clearly though-out ideas of how magic works and what defines "reality" in a world populated by parallel universes and living myth-forms. Gillen affords Loki and Billy a degree of sympathy without denying them agency, and Loki is held accountable for their decisions without being painted as a total monster. Bendis, meanwhile, characterizes Wanda's magic as delusion made real, and completely vilifies her for her illness in spite of the fact that she's given no control over her actions.

[tansypoisoning]

Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

[dweetwise]

Pre Entity Evan gets taken by the Entity as a survivor. Ends up having the hots for David.

this is the oldest ask in my inbox and i’ve been working on it on and off for months. it’s much shorter than i’d planned but i really struggled writing evan. i hope you’ll find something you like in it nonetheless!

ship: evan x david warnings: descriptions of violence and blood word count: 2060

Survivor!Evan X David: Tooth and nail

Evan wakes up in the woods next to the estate in the middle of the night. He feels strange; not hungover like he expected after apparently blacking out, but like there's a fog surrounding his brain. Kind of like he was dreaming.

Evan usually doesn't have dreams, and he sure as hell doesn't lucid dream. This feels strangely realistic for a dream, even though most of the specifics are… off. There's remnants of destroyed structures that don't exist, and an unnatural fog surrounding the trees. Something tells him he needs to be careful, dream or not.

Evan spots movement between some rocks. He can barely make out the figure of a man, a scrawny one dressed in mining clothes and darting his eyes around as if keeping a lookout for someone.

Why is there a worker milling about the woods at night? Did he drug Evan? Is he planning to rob the estate?

The man spots him and his eyes widen before he takes off in a sprint.

“Thief! Get back here!” Evan yells, running after the scoundrel.

It’s hard to track the man in the middle of the night, darting between rocks and trees and almost causing Evan to lose him several times. Why does it feel like the thief knows Evan’s home better than him?

At least, after a merry chase ending in one of the estate’s toolsheds, the man finally seems to stop. Evan approaches from an angle he doesn’t expect and the scoundrel doesn’t spot him, pressing himself up against the shack wall to peek around a corner in the opposite direction.

Evan’s heart starts beating louder from adrenaline as he carefully approaches the lowlife, readying to tackle him to the ground—

And promptly screaming out in pain at a sharp sting in his back. Shit, looks like he walked right into a trap!

He whips around to face the perpetrator, a short man wearing a skull mask and dressed in all black, calmly wiping his bloodied knife on his sleeve after stabbing Evan.

“You’ll regret that," Evan snarls, hands balling into fists as he readies to strike—

And promptly falls on his face with a scream as his assailant’s knife slashes him in the chest.

Evan lays on the damp grass in shock, bringing a shaking hand to touch the wound, feeling a worrying amount of blood gushing out of it. How is it bleeding so heavily? Did he hit an artery? Why can’t he get back up?

His shock turns further into confusion as he feels himself being hoisted up on the scrawny man’s shoulder like he weighs nothing.

“Unhand me!” he demands, regaining some of his strength to kick and punch at the attacker carrying him away without even so much as a grunt of effort. “When my father hears about this, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

The criminal has the audacity to snort, like the humiliation of getting overpowered and carried around like a sack of potatoes by a man half his size wasn’t enough of a hit to Evan’s pride.

Before he can give the brat a piece of his mind, he’s suddenly lifted upright, yelping out a curse from the sudden vertigo—

And then screaming until it feels like his lungs are giving out, because something sharp pierces through his shoulder with a wet squelch and sickening crunch, and Evan thinks he might actually die because it burns like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

He thinks his body goes into some sort of shock, because when he comes to, he’s limply hanging from what looks to be a hook in his shoulder, like a pig left to bleed out in a slaughterhouse. The blood gushing out from the gaping wound has stained the entirety of his left side red, his shirt clinging wetly to his torso.

Evan grits his teeth against his quickening, panicked breaths, new determination coursing through him. He’s not about to die like an animal without even fighting back.

With no sign of either the criminal who stabbed him or the thief who lured him into the trap, Evan raises his arms behind him to grip the hook’s base with shaking hands. He starts lifting himself up, choking on a pained gasp as the rusty hook drags through the wound in his shoulder. Just a little more—

The blood on his hands causes his grip to slip and Evan wails as gravity makes him sink right back down on the hook, the pain feeling somehow even worse than before, irritating the raw, angry wound.

He takes a couple of shallow breaths, blinking the blurriness from his vision. He knows he doesn’t have long, the blood loss starting to hit him in full force. His entire body protests the movement as he lifts his hands back up to grab the hook—

“Oi, knock it out!”

This time, Evan’s grip slips before he can even try to dislodge himself from the crude torture stand, the surprise of hearing an unfamiliar voice enough to make him lose focus. Shit, did his assailant return to finish the job?

Instead of a masked hooligan, Evan makes out the frame of another man in working clothes, approaching him with an urgency in his step despite glaring daggers at Evan.

“Ya lookin’ ta get yerself killed with a stunt like ‘at?” the man spits, but before Evan has a chance to reply he’s reaching up and effortlessly lifting him off of the hook. Evan hisses from the sting of the rusty metal sliding through his injury, but it’s nothing compared to the elation he feels to be free from the awful contraption.

“Yer new, right?” the stranger grunts, seeming awfully hostile for someone who just saved his life, chewing on the butt of an unlit cigarette. “’M gonna patch ya up, just this once.”

Without waiting for his reply, the man pulls out a roll of bandages and starts applying them over the heavily bleeding gash in his shoulder. He’s a little rough but Evan doesn’t care, the uncomfortable treatment much preferable to dying.

There’s a million questions running through Evan’s mind. Where is his attacker? What do the criminals want? Why does the estate look different? Why was he unable to fight back against a man half his size?

“Who are you?” Evan asks instead.

His reluctant helper snorts, seeming amused by his question.

“Bleedin’ out from a meathook an’ that’s what ya ask?” the man huffs, his mustache quirking up in a half-smile. “Ya can call me King.”

‘King’? Evan almost wants to snort in amusement and disbelief. This man he’s never seen before, in common working clothes and trespassing on Evan’s family’s property, would call himself something so arrogant?

“What an unfitting name,” Evan says.

Immediately, the bandages are tightened almost painfully around his shoulder.

“Wha’ was ‘at?” the man, “King”, grits out through clenched teeth, anger laced in his words.

Maybe Evan shouldn’t pick a fight with the man who just saved his life and who is the only thing currently stopping him from bleeding out.

“Do you know where the attacker is?” Evan asks instead, barely able to swallow his pride in exchange for living to see another day.

The bandages loosen just the tiniest bit as the man gets back to work.

“Dunno,” King spits, clearly not happy with the situation but not getting up to leave him for dead, either. “E’ll be back, though. They always come back.”

“Good,” Evan says, something dark bubbling up in his chest. Revenge. “This time he’s not taking me by surprise.”

“You wot—” King exclaims in surprise, before sighing angrily. “Yer not takin’ ‘im!”

“I didn’t even get a chance to fight back before,” Evan argues. “He’s a runt, I can easily win, knife or not.”

“Mate, I’m tellin’ ya!” King argues. “Ya can’t win against none of these.”

“Then help me,” Evan challenges, looking over his shoulder at the man. He’s seen King’s type before, tense and angry but more than enough capable of holding his own in a fight. He looks to be in good shape, biceps flexing while he secures the last of the bandages around Evan’s shoulder.

“It don’t work ‘at way,” King says, anger finally giving way to something more pensive. “No matter how many o’ us, they always win.”

“Then I’m going alone,” Evan decides, breaking the eye contact to try to hide the sudden feeling of rejection.

“What the—!" King grunts in frustration. “Ya deaf or somethin’!? I just told ya—”

“Thanks for the help,” Evan interrupts, brushing off the angry concerns and getting up on his feet. “Now get the fuck off my property.”

“Like hell I’m lettin’ ya walk to yer death!” King yells, ignoring the command and coming to stand before Evan to scream right in his face. “Yer comin’ with me, end o’ story!”

“I don’t take orders,” Evan shoots right back, glaring at the man. There’s only one person on this Earth who has the ability to boss him around like a dog, and it sure as hell isn’t this obnoxious—and annoyingly attractive—loudmouth.

King lets out a sound that can only be described at unbridled rage at his uncooperativeness. The man clearly isn’t used to being challenged like this, most people probably content to cower under his demanding aura, the hostile stare and muscular arms shaking from barely contained fury not painting the most welcoming picture.

Luckily, Evan is not like most people, and the threat of a fist fight doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Fine,” King finally says and Evan fails to mask the surprise on his features.

“What?”

“I said fine,” King spits, growing annoyed again. “Just try ta in a few good punches on the wanker before ‘e kills us.”

“Try to have a little more faith in me,” Evan scoffs, offended that the man thinks he would lose two fights in a row.

It turns out, King had much more faith in Evan than he should have, because even between the two of them they barely get a punch each on Evan’s assailant before they’re both bleeding on the ground in agony and the perpetrator is still completely unscathed.

Evan’s fear of dying is partly replaced by annoyance when King just grumbles an obnoxious “told ya” while being carried to a meat hook. But it’s the man’s complete nonchalance over their impending doom, along with the muttered “see ya soon, mate” that throws Evan for a loop. Even as the rusty metal reopens the wound in his shoulder and has his screaming in agony, he can’t help but adapt some of King’s indifferent attitude, not fighting it when his vision fades to black

Eventually, the darkness gives way to light, as the dim orange glow of a fire emerges in Evan’s field of view. He’s never believed in the afterlife, but something is telling him to approach the light and his feet carry him forward unconsciously.

As he gets closer, he sees there’s people at the fire; men and women, young and old, dressed in clothing Evan has never seen before. Some are laughing and others are arguing, Evan not knowing whether he should make his presence known or not, standing in the shadows.

And then he sees the thief from the estate who lured him into the trap.

“You got scared of a survivor?” one of the women is laughing.

“I didn’t say that!” the thief protests.

“Now now, he could have been like… a really scary survivor!” a boy grins.

“G-guys…” a young woman’s eyes meet Evans, approaching the perimeter of the campfire, glaring daggers at the group.

“Holy shit! He’s huge!” someone gasps.

“See? You would’ve ran too!” the thief argues, pointing a finger at Evan.

Oh, he’s going to enjoy breaking that finger to teach the bastard a lesson—

“Oi!”

A voice Evan recognizes carries through the small campsite, snapping him out of his plot for vengeance. King is strolling up to join the commotion, ignoring the hesitant eyes from the rest of the group flitting between him and Evan.

“Glad’ta see ya back, newbie,” King says, offering Evan a smug smirk, before gesturing to the rest of the small campsite. “Welcome to hell.”

“It’s Evan,” Evan corrects, not dignifying the rest of his claims with a response. His day just keeps getting stranger by the minute, but at least there’s a familiar face proving he’s not among the enemy.

King extends a hand toward him, the smirk never leaving his face.

“David.”