#but I don’t wanna get too far ahead of myself here...

[luveline]

this is quite vague, sorry, but would you please write more for coworker James? maybe him and r are sneaking around to kiss or they go out or Sirius and Remus find out. Idk whatever you feel like!!

you and James at the end of a secret date | ty for requesting! fem

You kissed James because you had to. You’ve never felt that pull before, but he’d been sitting there on the step next to you, close enough to see the freckles on his nose and count them, and— well, it’s hard to explain. But you kissed him. 

So far, it’s working in your favour. 

“It’s fine,” James says, breathless where he’s kissing your neck. 

“No, I think I broke it,” you say, squirming away from him to see the lamp where it’s fallen. “Shit.”

James had been kissing you on his sofa and your arm had a mind of its own, moving backward, whacking the body of the lamp where it had been living innocently on the side table. Now it’s in five separate pieces on the floor, but James doesn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“I’m not.”

You laugh, a little lost in the way he’s touching you. James isn’t being too much, despite your legs spread around his hips to let him kiss you and the slip of your stomach that’s exposed itself. He’s kissing you hard, yes, but he isn’t grabbing anything too sensitive. He isn’t initiating, just kissing. 

“No, ‘cos– ‘cos I’ve broken it, I have, I’ll have to buy you another one. It’s from IKEA, right? It’s–”

“It’s from IKEA,” James affirms, lifting his face from your neck to meet your eyes. His lips are pink from kissing, the tip of his nose ruddied. “I can get another one any hour of the day. Can you stop worrying?” 

“No.” 

James laughs and holds your cheek. “No, I guess you can’t. And I was getting ahead of myself, wasn’t I?” He turns his hand, stroking your under eye with a careful fingernail. “It’s getting late. I should drive you home.” 

You’re crestfallen, then. “Is it?” 

He checks his watch. “S’almost eleven.” 

You have work tomorrow. You’ll have to wake at 6AM. But you don’t want to leave, don’t want James to get off of you, don’t want to go back to the office where you’re still pretending to hate him. 

Not very well, mind you, but pretending all the same. 

You’re distracted from your melancholy by the marvel of him above you. His hair seems darker than ever today, black and shiny and nice to touch, a tad mussed from your hands. You smooth down each wanton curl and get a good look at his eyes. His lashes… it leaves you breathless again, how long they are, how beautiful he seems. 

You’re dating, sort of. Not together. You can’t stay the night, you haven’t fucked, and he doesn’t seem to want to yet. It’s still early days.

You aren’t sure if you’d let him fuck you here, but he hasn’t tried. You’d thought the neck kissing was a precursor, felt heat blooming in your chest and somewhere lower as he held your nape. You can imagine it easily from this position, blood rushing to warm your chest, a tizzied kiss of it to match James’ blush. He’d touch you, and you’d let him. He’d push your shirt the rest of the way up and see you clearly. 

“James…” you say softly. 

“What?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

He strokes your cheek. Your skin stretches gently under his touch, your eye squinting closed. “What sort of something?” he whispers. 

You wanna ask why he won’t fuck you. It would make sense —isn’t that what rivalry is, heated competition with poorly hidden sexual tension? Is that what you and James had?

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What sort of something?” he repeats with a laugh. 

“I don’t want to say it out loud.” 

James lets your head rest against the armrest and pillow smushed behind the top of it. He leans down to kiss you, a pulling thing you can’t help following. “Then don’t say it,” he murmurs, his nose dragging up your cheek as your lips part lazily. “Maybe I can guess.” 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to.” 

“You never have any faith in me.” 

You have much more in him as of late. James has yet to let you down. You kissed him and it’s like he refuses to be cruel about it, never letting you worry, eager in his reciprocation. Things are still confusing between you because you’re avoiding a conversation you’re too afraid to start, lest he want something casual. Instead, you’ve let him drag you deeper into his caging. It will hurt twice as much to ask now. 

“It’s stupid,” you say. “Never mind.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“No, it was.” You scratch his scalp as you know he adores. “It’s eleven. You can kiss me for at least another half an hour.” 

If he hears the hopefulness in your voice he ignores it. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna keep you up.” 

“Well, only if you want to.” 

“I always want to kiss you, you vexing woman,” he murmurs, shivers lining your arms and spine as his lips part against your cheek. He kisses downwards, sloven, half moon kisses, lightest scratch of his teeth on your neck. “Is it too immature if I leave a mark?” he asks. 

Immature? You have no idea. “I don’t mind what you do, just not above the collar, please.” 

You grow still as he tugs at the neckline of your shirt to expose your chest. It isn’t what you meant, and you’re not about to correct him. 

“Tell me if I…” He looks up at you, smiling nicely. “Just tell me if I take it too far,” he says. “Okay?” 

He plants a kiss over your heart. You hate thinking that he can feel it, hammering, betraying your deep feelings. “Okay,” you breathe.

[worldlxvlys]

no

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), cursing

part 2 of ice

“well, i’m going back to the couch” he said. “and if you even think about touching yourself, i swear to god, i’ll edge you for hours”

if he thought that would stop me, he was wrong.

i watched as he got comfortable on the couch, turning on the tv.

immediately, i pulled down my pants and panties.

i glanced over once more, ensuring that he wasn’t looking before bringing my fingers down to my cold, wet pussy.

i let out a small, quiet sigh, doing my best not to be too loud.

i ran my fingers through my folds, but before i could do anything else, a vibrator was placed on my clit.

“FUCK!” i yelled out as my hips jolted forward, my back arching off the edge of the island.

i wasn’t sure when matt had even gotten up, let alone left the room to grab my vibrator.

“i knew you wouldn’t listen. can never follow simple instructions” he mumbled as he turned the vibrator up to the highest setting.

“m-matt, fuck, i’m sorry”

“you’re only sorry cause you want to cum, but guess what ? you don’t deserve it” he said as he applied more pressure, making the vibrator dig even deeper into my clit.

“ sorry, sorry, sorry” i whined as i shook my head.

“oh, baby you’re already a mess. i’ve barely done anything” he said as he brought his other hand to my core.

without warning, he pushed a finger inside of me.

“god, matt. i’m close”

“already?” he taunted, as he moved his finger even quicker inside of me.

“matt! please, pleaseeee let me cum”

“hm looks like i get to be the one to tell you no” he smirked at me.

“p-please, i’m sorry- so sorry, please just let me cum. need it so bad”

“no, what you need is an attitude adjustment” my legs started to shake and he pulled his hands away from me.

“no, no please” i whined.

“there you go telling me no again” he put the vibrator on my abdomen, right above where i needed it.

“every time you say no is an orgasm you don’t get. you’re not doing well so far, princess”

“what ? matt, no, that’s not fair”

he shook his head, “hm, there goes another” he said as he handed me the vibrator.

“go ahead and put this on one of your tits. do not move it until i tell you to”

i followed his instructions, instantly moaning at the feeling of the constant stimulation to my nipple.

he plunged his fingers in me, taking me by surprise, making me scream out.

he moved his fingers at a rapid pace, producing a wet sound as he rubbed them against my walls.

“m-matt! please, please, please” my eyes were screwed shut, legs opening and closing as he continued to push me closer and closer to my orgasm before stopping.

“ matt, come onnnn, i’m sorry” i whined.

he took the vibrator off of my sore nipple and switched it off.

he immediately attached his mouth to the nipple, causing me to cry out.

“holy shit matt!” i moaned as my head flew back for the hundredth time.

he placed his hand at the edge of my seat, and i quickly took the opportunity to rub myself against him.

i rocked my hips back and forth on top of his hand, enjoying the feeling of my clit gliding over his long fingers.

he pulled his mouth and hand away, looking down at me.

“ you wanna cum so fucking badly ? fine.”

he got on his knees, looking up at me from between my thighs.

“ get comfortable baby, cause i’m not moving from here anytime soon” he said before licking a stripe up my folds.

he hooked my thighs over his shoulders and held them open as he buried his face in my wet pussy.

he kissed and licked me like there was no tomorrow.

i squirmed under his hold, unable to keep my shaky legs still as my hands gripped his hair.

he reached his hand up and slapped one of my boobs, making me moan out.

he brought his hands to my pussy, spreading me out and making sure every inch of my wetness was caressed by his tongue.

he brought his lips to my swollen clit, sucking on it until my legs squeezed around his head and i came all over his face.

he didn’t stop.

my toes curled, as my body shook and twitched with aftershocks as he continued.

he didn’t stop when my nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red marks.

he didn’t stop when tears streamed down my face, only broken sobs leaving my mouth.

he didn’t stop when i held his shoulders, trying to push him away.

he didn’t stop when my heels dug into his back, while my back arched so far that i wasn’t even sitting anymore.

he didn’t stop when he pulled orgasm after orgasm from me.

he didn’t stop when his face was covered in my pleasure.

he doesn’t like it when i tell him no.

but i do.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chris @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @cosmicmistake42069

[hearts4golbach]

if you do requests can you do any Johnnie Gulibert x fem reader fluff please 🙏🙏

Somethin’ Stupid.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

sorry if this isn’t fluffy enough, i had this idea and song stuck in my head and thought it’d be perfect!

Johnnie sat in the living room on his phone as we waited for Jake and Tara to come over. the four of us frequently had dinner together, at least once a week. this week was at me and Johnnie's shared apartment. it was small but cozy. the faded maroon couch creaked as I plopped down next to him.

"You gonna help me cook? I was thinking we could make, like, lasagna or something. I don't know, I want pasta." I rambled, running my fingers along his tattoos.

"Of course," he kissed my forehead before checking the time on his phone. "it's only 3, they won't be here until 5:30."

"Well, yeah. i was thinking we could make everything from scratch. I know you're not a huge person on cooking, but it'd be fun if we did it together." I say shyly.

"you really trust me in that fucking kitchen?" he laughed, "I'd probably burn this place to the ground."

"yeah, right." I roll my eyes and stand up, gripping his arm in an attempt to pull him up. "Come onnn!" I whined, "we have all of the ingredients and everything."

he sighed dramatically. "fine, only because I love you."

"lazy bitch." I teased before making my way to the kitchen, johnnie not far behind me.

I listed the ingredients we needed off some random website so he could gather them. he was already moaning and groaning about how he's going to fuck it up.

"well, since I'm here, you can only fuck shit up if you try really, really hard." I tilted my head, putting my hands on my hips.

he waved his hand around. "whatever you say. let's do this shit authentic, dump the flour straight on the counter."

"johnnie, do no -" before I could protest, he had dumped a cup of flower onto the counter. "I'm not fucking cleaning that up."

johnnie giggled and finished putting the correct amount of flour into our freshly cleaned counters. “okay, maybe we should mix the wet ingredients in a bowl first and not dump them on the counter like an idiot.” I rolled my eyes.

he fluffed his hair. "but that's so boring."

"at least it's somewhat practical. also, I hope you remember what has happened on that counter between us, just saying." I grabbed a bowl out of the cabinet. his face flushed light pink as he smiled. "wanna mix?" I handed him the whisk after I had put all of the wet ingredients in.

as he mixed, I cleaned up after him. I grabbed the flour and began to walk back towards the cabinet whenever johnnie moved and bumped into me, causing flour to go all over my face and stick. "...johnnie!" I scolded.

he whipped around and laughed at the sight. "sorry, babe." he cheezed.

"not funny, get me a towel or something. be a good boyfriend." I pestered, attempting to seem angry but not being able to manage it. i let out a laugh as i looked at myself through the reflection of the microwave. i watched as johnnie wet a towel before coming over to me and wrapping his arm around my waist. he pulled me close and began to wipe off my face. “thanks, baby.” i smiled, pecking his lips before pulling away and getting back to work.

he finished mixing and looked at me for permission to dump the shit on the counter. i rolled my eyes once more and nodded, “go ahead. it’s too late now.”

he giddily dumped the wet ingredients on the table, clapping and acting like a child with excitement. he began to mix everything with his hands and i helped him. “this feels so weird.” johnnie snickered.

i giggled, “well, yeah.” i lifted my hand up and wiped egg residue on his face.

he hunched over, gagging before wiping himself off with the towel. “ugh!”

“love you.” i smiled, wrapping up the dough and putting it in the fridge.

he grabbed the ingredients for the sauce as he read them from my phone. meanwhile, i began to shred cheese. “i don’t even eat half of the shit on this list. mushrooms?!” Johnnie joked, making me roll my eyes.

“mushrooms will be on the side, mainly for Jake and Tara if they want them. we can have a fancy dinner!” i protest, putting the cheese off to the side as i began to cut the mushrooms. Johnnie came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as i cut. “you already done putting the sauce together?”

“yeah, it was easy.” he smirked, resting his head on my shoulder,

“did you do it correctly?” i emphasize, scooping the chopped up mushrooms into a pan to cook them.

he snorts, “i hope so.”

i triple checked to make sure everything was running smoothly before starting the oven. i hummed along with the Frank Sinatra record playing quietly in the background. i stirred the mushrooms, adding seasoning and singing to myself. “and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like, ‘i love you.’”

“you’re so beautiful,” Johnnie commented, stirring the sauce before walking off to set the table.

i blushed just as hard as i had since we first started dating, things Johnnie said to me never got old. i continued humming along with a smile on my face. Johnnie began to wash plates and utensils, which were matching matte black with silver accents. i turned to look at him, unable to hold back a smile when his gaze met mine. i had always hated singing in front of people, but Johnnie loved it.

we quickly assembled the lasagna, as our time was running out quickly, it was already 5. we had lost track of time talking while everything cooked. after putting it in the oven, Johnnie kissed my forehead. “we did great.”

[fcthots]

hear me out.. tattoo artist! jason

Ok think Jason w tattoos is UDHFH STEP ON ME. AND TATTOO ARTIST JASON? EVERYTHING. but I have such a fear of needles that this is the only way I could do this one. I will return to it later if I become any less of a a coward.

Also this somehow turned into a full fic, don’t ask me how. I just looked down and there were words typed in the post. I don’t know what possessed me. And before I forget: it’s not really relevant so far if the bats are still bats in this AU, but the batfamily is still at the very least, a family.

Jason works at a tattoo parlor and that’s where you two meet. It’s love at first, well, first day? Anyway, you come in wanting to get your ears pierced. You know you’re scared going into it so you call ahead and ask for the nicest, most gentle, and most patient person there and you book a stupidly long appointment with him so you have time to have a panic attack and freak tf out.

You were not expecting Jason to be over 6 feet tall and be the most menacing person you’ve ever seen (and you saw batman one time!!). You also weren’t expecting him to be so stupidly fucking attractive. You sit down where he gestures for you to, and hug your arms close to yourself. He gets everything ready while you start trying to control your breathing. You can see Jason continuously turning to look at you out of the corner of your eye as you fidget with your ears wondering how bad this is gonna hurt.

“You okay?” You look up at him. He’s staring at you with concern in his eyes. Ok, so maybe you weren’t as good at controlling your breathing as you thought, but you still needed to respond.

“Mhm.” Your words were sort of failing you right now so that would have to do. You attempt to keep your tears in.

“You ready?” You look down and see the needle in his hands. Absolutely the fuck not. Your breathing gets worse, your tears are starting to make it out of their prison, and you are about to have a panic attack.

“No.” It comes out too fast. You shake your head wildly to make sure you get the message across.

He immediately puts down the needle and shows you his open hands. “Can I sit?” You bring your knees to your chest and nod before you hide your face. “You’re scared of needles?” He sits next to you, keeping a respectful distance.

“Phobia,” you mumble as you slightly lift up your head. You see the equipment on the table and you attempt to cover up the way your heart spikes. Jason follows your gaze. He gets up and puts a clean towel over the needles before he sits back down.

You were very clearly crying now despite trying not to. Your adrenaline was kicking in.

He held out his hand. “Do you wanna hold my hand?”

You jerked. “Do you mean like while you stick me with the needle? Because I’m not ready. I’ll be ready soon. I swear I’ll try and get myself together, I just need a minute-”

“We’re not piercing your ears right now. You can hold it then too if you would like, but I was asking if holding my hand would help you right now. We have all the time in the world for the needles later. I just wanna help you through this for now.”

You grab his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry for all this. I don’t mean to make your job harder. Also I might be here for a long time. I’ll try not to, but I’m scared.”

“Don’t be sorry and don’t worry about me. Let’s help you right now. I can be content here all day. You’re just helping me slack off.”

You smile and wipe your tears with your free hand.

You sit in silence for about 5 or so minutes before Jason pipes up. “So why are you getting your ears pierced if you’re scared of needles?”

“People keep telling me I need to. Also I have a friend’s wedding coming up and I was told my dress needed to have earrings.” His hand is warm and huge. You really don’t want to let go.

“But if it’s causing you this much stress, who cares about earrings?”

“Most other people apparently.”

“That’s fuckin stupid.”

You laugh and finally meet his eyes.

He starts talking again. “Well what about clip-on earrings?”

“They don’t really make those much anymore. Super hard to find.” Jason looks thoughtful at that.

“Didn’t you book out the rest of my day?”

“…yeah sor-”

“Respectfully, don’t finish that sentence. My brothers ex-girlfriend makes jewelry, and I know for a fact that she makes clip-ons and fake piercings. Steph, her name is Steph by the way, used to make them for my brother before he moved in with us and was able to get them pierced. I’m 99% sure she’s home right now.”

You feel a huge weight lifted off your chest. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. How did you get here?”

“I walked from my apartment. It’s not all that far.”

“Alright well, if you’re comfortable with it, we can take my bike to go see if she can make you some if you want to go now. It’s not a walkable distance really. And don’t feel pressured to-”

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. Anything to not jam a needle into my ears.”

Jason leads you by the hand to his bike and takes you back to Wayne manor. There are so many people there that barely question why you’re there. Jason walks off to go find Steph and you get nervous until a dog approaches you. A child follows shortly after.

“Titus can tell that you are upset. He is trained to help with such things.”

Jason comes back to find you with Steph in tow only to see the dog literally laying on top of you while you discuss animals with Damian.

What a weird ass fucking day, but a good one.

Part two

[roseblog-rog]

Dog of War Changed My Life For the Better

Okay, I know a smut fic doing that sounds silly, but trust me this post is really important.

I wanna take a moment to talk about Mindcrank’s HDG fic Dog of War. Now I could go on and on about how well it’s written, how engaging the story is, how…hot it gets 😵‍💫…but that’s not what I’m here to do. No, I want to talk about the part that really helped me come to an important realization: Princess’ plurality.

//spoilers ahead for DoW up to the end of chapter 33

While not the center of the story, Princess’ plurality is an integral part of their character, being explored and explained throughout the fic. They were, as the fic has said, “two parts of one whole.” Now, to cut to the chase, the specific moment that woke me the fuck up was towards the end of chapter 31, where Princess and her other half “cut themselves in two.” The moment itself sent me into hysterics, prompting a full on panic attack and spiral. I was not only scared for Princess, actually having to contact a friend who had already read the whole thing to confirm her other half would come back, but also for myself.

Because you see, what made this moment so raw and powerful for me is that I too am plural. It’s a fairly recent realization, one that I am only just coming to terms with after reading this, but I did much of the same thing as Princess did. My alter, Skye, is the conglomeration and personification of years and years’ worth of repressed and stifled feelings. Emotions I hated having and experiencing, pushing them away in fears I would hurt someone. Being pushed down and getting cramped together for so long resulted in a fairly recent personification of these repressed emotions. It was terrifying, making it all the more likely I completely lose myself in the feelings, quite literally losing control of myself. Despite the personification, as well as the few times they fronted being almost completely non-harmful, I continued to push them away, down and down until I couldn’t feel their presence at all. I believed I hated them and everything they stood for, having intense trauma towards the feelings of anger and numbness that originally sparked Skye’s formation.

But when I read the moment where that same thing happens to Princess, seeing that split secondhand and not knowing if her other half would ever come back, I screamed out in pain. I realized I didn’t want to lose Skye, that we too were “two parts of one whole.“ I didn’t want to lose them, I don’t want to lose them. I was SCARED. When that breakdown ended, I finally realized that I couldn’t push my other half away anymore.

It will still be an arduous process of healing for the both of us, and it will definitely take a long time before they’re right up at the front with me, side by side, but it’s a start. And when Princess’ own other half came back, saying “we don't truly exist without both reflections, we can't be apart for long”, I couldn’t help but feel the same about myself. Or, I guess, my selves.

Long-winded ramble aside, I wanted to thank @magicalgirlmindcrank for not only producing an absolutely beautiful and incomprehensibly hot story, but also for helping me realize that I’ve been pushing my other half away for far too long. Words cannot describe how grateful I am.

And if anyone reading this is also plural, or going through a crisis of realization or something else of the sort, know that you are not alone. While the journey will be perilous, know that you too will find peace with your selves.

Thanks for listening, I really appreciate it.

[shakespearean-dream]

TW!!! — blood, scarring and mild body horror ahead 🥲

benny’s turn!

before i start i wanna clarify i hesitated a bit on posting this because lovely mutual @vor-leser just posted his benny interpretation (go look at it and follow him btw), and idk if we like mind melded or smth but our human benny’s are super similar LOL. i damn near scrapped the whole thing out of fear someone would get mad at me but i Would Not be able to start over and get this done ever so this is as good as we’re gonna get. 😭 my apologies niko love u /p

this has been like a full 7 days in the making 😭😭 the art block that i felt coming on while doing ellen and ted hit me like an optimus prime sized semi truck this week along with a depressive episode so i definitely appreciate that happening and i am not upset about it at all! /s i’m totally good so don’t worry or anything /gen, mental health is just weird and i also wanted to explain the gap in my posts 😔

i do not know how to feel about this drawing if i’m so fr with you; i’m proud of myself for AM-ified benny cause i think i got the slowly rotting from the inside out primal freak energy down pretty good, but on the other hand this feels kinda empty?? i usually have a lot more commentary squished in here but i think my brain’s a little fried 🤦‍♂️ i love drawing me some beautiful buff men though so drawing normal ben was familiar territory. however his wack ass haircut i gave him is his punishment for being a PRICK!!! go sit in the corner and think about ur actions benjamin.

like ted n the rest of the sillies i’m not straying too far from canon with his personality, he��s an ass and a murderer and a hella smart dickhead who desperately needs to be punished by the universe (thank you for that one AM). hot take i did not like his “redemption arc” in his game scenario and i don’t think with how he was throughout the entirety of his life (and also throughout the game, main example his inner dialogue) he would actually go out of his way to help the kid because he means it??? n prove he changed to the guys he killed cause he means it??? i dunno maybe AM torturing him made him have a main character “omg i’ve been in the wrong this whole time!!1” moment like the game suggests i’m just not buying it 💀 i’m sure it’s just cause bennys scenario couldn’t be too long and they couldn’t fully flesh him out which i won’t fault the game makers for. i’m a steven universe fan, i know what time constrictions can do to a plot and redemption arc 😭 looking at you white diamond…

his wife n kids are up top and they’re kinda neat to me— i was considering the hc that part of the reason manya (his canon wife) left him is because she realized she was a lesbian which would be funny as fuck considering benny’s also One Of Them Queers 😭. i think during the brief times he was home and able to parent his daughters they got really scared and tired of him, one because he’s just a very threatening powerful and overbearing man, but also because i feel like he would’ve been on their ASS about everything. grades, extracurriculars, friends, wardrobe, this guy was micromanaging his family to an annoying extreme (ofc because of his perfectionist complex). he probably loved manya and the kids in his own weird way, but it was more contractual to him than any real personal relationship. maybe he inherited that from his own parents?? i doubt he ever talked to them after he moved out.

that’s about the end of my thoughts on this fucker. 🥲 funny storyyyy i just remembered i have laundry to finish so im gonna go do that, lord help me. thank you for reading all this if you did!!!!! we’re over halfway through so who do yall want next? wanna save AM or nimdok for last? i’ll see u guys later :]]]

[simpforpeterp]

harvey x farmer

Coolest Place in the World

summary: it’s her first day in town (be nice!)

warnings: she/her farmer. i didn’t have a character in mind or anything so it’s up to you whether you are the farmer or if she’s a character or if she’s a figment of my imagination

word count: 1.09k

Coolest Place in the World

“I can’t believe I just introduced myself to 27 people.” She mumbles to herself as she approaches the saloon before pushing open the door.

The room is already lively and filled with music. Looking around, she remembers most people from earlier today. Well, all except one. He sits by the bar, seemingly by himself. Maybe she’ll see him around but it feels weird to introduce herself at a bar without seeming like she’s flirting.

“Farmer! I’m glad you came, I was just telling my husband about you. This is Demetrius.” Robin introduces.

“Nice to meet you, maybe we’ll come check out your farm sometime.” He smiles.

“It looks like a mess right now but hopefully I can fix that soon.” She smiles back at the couple.

“So, have you met everyone already?” Robin asks.

“Most people, yeah.” The farmer shrugs.

“Good, good, there are some good people here.” She assures with a warm grin.

“Really good people. But it isn’t always easy living here. I mean, we only have one doctor,” Demetrius sighs. “I like him though, he’s a man of science like me.”

“Is that him?” She discreetly points to the man sitting at the bar, looking around.

“Yep, Harvey. You should introduce yourself if you haven’t already before this place closes.” Robin suggests.

“At a bar though? I don’t wanna seem creepy.” The farmer nervously crosses her arms.

“He won’t take it that way, I promise.” Demetrius assures her but gives Robin a quick look.

“Let’s dance, honey. I love this song.” Robin gently pats his arm as they stand up.

Harvey noticed her as soon as she walked in. How could he not? But he’s climbing the age latter and he’s single, alone in a bar. He can’t get caught looking at her. Just to avoid that, he looks everywhere but her. Until eventually, he has to stare straight ahead while drinking. But then the unimaginable happens.

“You’re Harvey, right?” A voice says from behind him. He turns around to see her. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen with the prettiest voice he’s ever heard.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m the local doctor. Sorry, I’ve heard about you but I’m blanking on pretty much everything I’ve heard about you.” He admits as embarrassment flushes his cheeks.

“I guess I’m a farmer now. I’ve never been that before. I almost feel like Barbie with the way I’m switching lifestyles. I just moved in to the Valley. Well, not THE valley, but this valley. Sorry, that was stupid. You know where we are, I didn’t have to specify. I don’t have to explain myself either, shit. I’m not usually this…scattered. Sorry.” She rambles nervously. He can’t help the smile that goes across his face. She’s so cute.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m usually too un-scattered. I perform regular check-ups and medical procedures for all the residents of Pelican Town. It’s rewarding work.” He explains as she takes a seat beside him.

“That’s great, I get too nervous in Doctor’s offices for that.” She admits.

“Hopefully, I can change that.” He smiles, way more charming than he has ever been. So much so, he surprises himself.

“Maybe.” She laughs and shakes her head. In that moment, he swears he can feel his heart glowing.

“You have a great smile.” He accidentally blurts out.

“Thank you, Harvey. Seriously, I haven’t really laughed all day,” She tells him. “But I should get going, it’s getting late.”

“Me too. Do you want me to walk you home? My clinic isn’t too far.” He offers.

“Oh, you don’t have to. It’s just one long straight road to my house and no one else lives right there. But thanks. Maybe I’ll pop in for a visit soon.” She smiles as she stands up. She gives him one last look before turning around to walk away.

“Swooning?” Pierre asks with a loud chuckle as he sits beside him.

“What? We just met.” Harvey laughs nervously.

“You guys looked good together.” Pierre nudges him.

“You think so?” He asks quickly.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t lie to you. I know you’ve been wanting to settle down with someone. She doesn’t have to be the one but, you’ve gotta start looking for what you want. Instead of sitting here alone. I’m just saying, there are new opportunities every day. I should know, I sell fresh produce every day except Wednesday.” He smiles.

“Did you have to throw in an advertisement at the end? I already know what you do.” Harvey sighs.

“It’s just instinct at this point.”

“Morning!” The farmer greets as soon as the door opens. His heart skips twenty beats as she walks in with a drink carrier of coffee.

“Good morning.” He says with a smile.

“I’m going around bringing people coffee!” She says, picking up one of the cups and walking over to him. “I figured that since you’re a doctor, it’s probably best you don’t fall asleep on the job so, here you go.”

"It's for me? This is my favorite stuff! It's like you read my mind." He says happily.

“I want to make a good impression on this town, I really want to make it work here, you know? So, I’m stepping up my game. And now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t have told you that if I’m trying to impress you too.” She starts to ramble again.

“You’ve already made a great first impression on me. And now a great second impression.” He leans against the counter.

“That’s good, I have a bad habit of talking to much so I feel like maybe I’ve made some people uncomfortable. I wanted t- whoops, I’m doing it again,” She sighs.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t talk enough so feel free to ramble whenever you want.” He tells her happily.

“Well, I should get going but maybe I’ll talk your ear off another time.” She winks and he feels his knees go weak.

“Thanks again. You know, for the coffee.” He clears his throat.

“No problem. Have a good day!” She waves with a wide grin before shutting the door behind her.

“Wow.” Harvey whispers to himself before hearing a throat clear.

“I’m here too.” Pierre jokingly rolls his eyes.

“She’s so…I have no words.” Harvey mindlessly babbles.

“Are you gonna ask her out or give her googly eyes whenever she’s around?” He asks.

“I’ve done no such thing! Also, there’s no way she feels anything towards me that isn’t strictly platonic.” Harvey sighs.

“She was so blatantly flirting with you.”

“Maybe she’s just naturally flirtatious.”

[chelseachilly]

when i'm feeling alone, you remind me of home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you're stranded at uni by yourself for christmas with no flights going to london, but your boyfriend has other ideas warnings: nothing but fluff ❄️🫶🏼 word count: 2.5k

author’s note: here's another holiday one-shot! hoping to write at least one more before christmas. also btw there is no regard for the actual chelsea december fixtures or club rules in this story lol. title from christmas tree farm by taylor 🎄

-

You’ve always loved snow.

You loved playing in it as a little kid, making snowmen with your parents and going sledding with friends. You loved watching it from your window your first year of uni, seeing the blanket of white make Edinburgh look even more magical. You love bundling up to go ice skating and drinking hot chocolate as the snow falls around you.

But right now, you absolutely hate it. 

A massive snowstorm rolling through the UK has caused the cancellation all flights, including the one you were supposed to take from Edinburgh to London tonight. It’s your last year of university there, but you’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and your boyfriend.

Now, it’s two days until Christmas and you’re stranded alone in your little flat with absolutely no way of making it home.

“What? You can’t get a train?” Ben asks after you’ve explained your predicament to him sadly. 

As much as you feel bad about missing the holiday with your parents, you feel really bad about not being able to see Ben. With your busy schedules, you’ve hardly seen him in months, and you even missed his birthday a couple days ago because you had an exam. Now, you were supposed to finally have an entire week with him in London. 

You were going to go to Winter Wonderland and complain about tourists and end up going back to his to snuggle by the fireplace. You were going to have Christmas morning with your family and dinner with his, spending the whole day exchanging gifts and fond memories. You were going to watch his game on the 27th and bundle up in your warmest Chelsea gear to cheer your heart out for your man, which you’ve really missed doing lately. 

You miss everything about him, really. 

But instead, you’re going to be eating Indian takeaway leftovers and watching Love Actually to try to make yourself feel better.

“The trains are all full, I checked,” you sigh. 

“Well, let me see if I can charter a plane-“

“Ben,” you cut him off before he gets ahead of myself. Although it’s quite extravagant for him to spend tens of thousands of dollars getting you there, you know he would do it in a heartbeat. “All flights are grounded, not just mine. It’s not possible.”

“But…there must be something.”

You can picture his disappointed face right now, and it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you reply, sinking into your couch. “You know I would do anything to be there with you right now.”

“Don’t apologize to me, love, I can’t believe you’re going to spend Christmas alone,” Ben sighs. “This is so shit. I just wanna see you and hold you.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I miss you so much. The only thing that got me through exams was thinking about being home with you and playing with Oscar in the snow and baking cookies…”

You can feel yourself getting choked up, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you think about all you’ll be missing out on. You feel a bit silly, knowing there are people with far bigger problems in the world, but you’ve been working yourself to death for the past month to ace your finals and this trip home was the shining light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ben says sadly. “I miss you so much too. I wish there was something we could do.”

“Like control the weather?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the tears running down your face.

“You know I would do it if I could,” he replies seriously. “I’m sorry this is happening, babe. Maybe the weather will clear up in a day or two and you’ll still be able to make it out for a few days, yeah?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you breathe - some time with Ben and your family is better than nothing, but you’re still going to be alone for Christmas morning. “I should let you go, I don’t want to stop you from having a nice holiday too. Say hi to your mum and Alex for me when they get there, alright?”

“I will, baby,” Ben says. “I’ll text you later and call you in the morning, alright?”

“Alright,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, love.”

The moment Ben hangs up, you toss your cell onto the cushion beside you and bury your face in the pillow, groaning in frustration. 

After feeling sorry for yourself for a bit, you reluctantly get up and go to turn up the heat and change into something warmer, as the temperatures outside continue to drop. You grab Ben’s hoodie from your closet, a cozy grey one you stole last time you were in London. It barely smells like him anymore, since that was over a month ago and you’ve worn and washed it several times, but it’s still a small comfort to wear something of his.

You heat up your dinner and put on the film, although the romantic scenes and the shots of London only seem to make you more homesick. 

You text Ben during his favourite part, which is naturally Hugh Grant dancing around 10 Downing Street. 

The annual Love Actually rewatch isn’t the same without you babe. Hope you’re having fun with the fam ❤️

He takes a while to respond, which you hope means he’s having a better time than you are and enjoying being with his family. 

You’re just drifting off to sleep when his text finally comes in.

It’s not the same here without you either. Goodnight baby, talk in the morning 😘

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing.

You briefly think it’s your alarm, but you don’t remember setting one, certainly not for 7AM, which is the current time according to your watch.

You blearily stretch your arms, a bit of a crick in your neck from falling asleep on the couch, and reach around haphazardly for your phone.

You see Ben’s name and contact photo on the screen and you quickly answer, worried something is wrong if he’s calling you at this time. 

“Ben? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assures you. “Can you go downstairs? There’s a delivery for you.”

“What?” you yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What on earth have you sent me at seven in the morning?”

“Just go check, I think you’ll like it,” Ben promises, and you can hear the smile tugging at his lips. “Quickly, babe. This is time sensitive.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you throw the blanket off yourself and slide on your slippers, leaving the warmth of your flat to go down the stairs and see what’s waiting for you outside the main doors. You can only imagine what ridiculous present your boyfriend had shipped to you overnight to try to make up for your failed Christmas. 

You tighten Ben’s hoodie around your body to brace yourself for the cold before opening the door, your eyes on the ground where you’re expecting the package to be.

Instead, you see a familiar pair of Nikes - and your eyes trail up to see the very familiar man wearing them. 

You’re not sure if you’re dreaming, so you blink a few times, only to be greeted with the same sight - your perfect, adorable boyfriend standing in front of you in his puffer jacket and hat, his cheeks red from the cold and his smile absolutely blinding. 

“Ben?” you gasp. “Why are you - how are you here?”

“I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

You meet him halfway as he drops his bags to the ground and opens his arms for you to throw yourself at him. You hug him as tight as you can, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling his scent. You can’t believe this is really happening.

“How the hell did you get here?” you ask as he squeezes your waist tightly and kisses the top of your head. 

“I drove,” Ben murmurs. 

You pull back to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You drove? It’s, like, eight hours-“

“Twelve in a snowstorm, apparently,” Ben chuckles. “But definitely worth it for this.”

“You drove all night through a snowstorm for me?”

You can feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes once again, though these are tears of joy. You can’t believe how insanely lucky you are to have a man who loves you this much. 

“Of course I did, I would do anything for you,” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, brushing his nose against yours. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long night and I would really love a kiss.”

Without hesitation, you grab his face and kiss him passionately, sighing with joy at the feeling of being reunited with your boyfriend. You’re certain that this is the most romantic and wonderful thing anyone has ever done for you, and although you never expected the best kiss of your life to happen on your doorstep at 7am in a blizzard, this just might take the top spot.

“I love you so damn much,” you whisper against his lips when you finally pull away. “But I am also slightly mad at you for driving at night in poor conditions.”

Ben laughs and rolls his eyes a bit. “I promise I was safe, but can we go inside where it’s warmer before we argue about it?”

“Hmm, okay,” you grin, pecking his lips a few more times before helping him lug his bags up the stairs to your flat.

Once you’re inside and Ben’s taken off his shoes and coat, you waste no time in wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again. 

“You’re freezing, sweetheart,” you murmur as his cold hands slide under your - his - hoodie to feel your skin. “Want a tea? Or do you want to go straight to bed? You must be exhausted.”

“A tea and a cuddle would be perfect,” Ben smiles, pecking your forehead.

You tell him to go get comfy on the couch while you make tea for both of you, and when you return, he’s waiting for you with open arms and a sleepy grin on his face. 

You place both mugs on the coffee table and curl up next to him, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms and legs tangled. 

You let out a content sigh as your bodies recalibrate after so much time apart. You knew you needed this, but you didn’t know quite how much until right now. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “What about your mum and Alex, though?”

“I told them how sad you sounded on the phone and they encouraged me to go, though my mum was slightly nervous about me making the drive-“

“As she should be,” you scold gently.

“I told you, I was very careful, and there were hardly any cars on the roads,” Ben promises once again. “Anyways, they were all for it. They knew I would’ve been miserable without you there.”

You hug him a bit tighter, hooking your leg around his. “Wait, you have a game in three days. Did the club really sign off on this?”

“I managed to persuade Poch to give me today off to go see my girl, I think he’s a bit of a softie at heart,” Ben jokes. “And we have tomorrow and the day after off for Christmas anyways. We’ll just have to drive back on the 26th, the roads are supposed to clear by then. I know it’s not the same as Christmas in London with both our families, but this is better than being apart, right?”

“Ben,” you say sincerely, cupping his cheek with one hand. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. A cozy Christmas with just the two of us sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Your lips meet in another sweet kiss, one that quickly escalates as you feel your boyfriend’s hands on your hips and thighs for the first time in a month. You moan into his mouth as he tugs you into his lap. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathe between kisses, tugging his hat off to run your hands through his messy hair. 

“I can tell, hoodie thief,” Ben teases, fiddling with the soft material. “You look unreal in that, by the way. And I missed you more.”

You smile into another kiss, getting completely lost in him and his scent and his touch. Even after years together, you’re completely addicted to him. 

You’re ready to take it further and move to your bedroom, but you’re interrupted by a yawn from Ben. He tries to kiss you again afterward, but you laugh softly and hold his face. 

“You need sleep, Benjamin.”

He pouts slightly in protest, but you kiss him again quickly and it goes away.

“Babe, you’re exhausted,” you murmur softly. “We can go cuddle in my bed and continue this later.”

Ben sighs and nods as you climb off him and extend your hand to help him up. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though, instead pulling you into another warm hug. He’s so sleepy and adorable that you could nearly cry as he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

He’s always been a very tactile person, and you know that for every time you tell him how much you missed and love him, he will hold you a little bit longer or kiss your forehead to say the exact same thing.

When you finally pull apart, you take him by the hand and lead him into your bedroom. He strips down to his boxers, which is how he prefers to sleep even in the dead of winter. He says you run hot enough to keep him warm, though you’re not sure if that’s true or he just likes to maximize your skin-on-skin contact.

He’s much warmer now than when you found him on your doorstep, so it’s not a shock to your system when you climb into bed with him and he immediately pulls you into his chest.

“I promise once you’ve had a proper rest I’ll make the drive worth your while, baby,” you say with a slight smirk as you wrap your arm around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

Ben just tightens his grip on you and closes his eyes, a content smile on his face. 

“It was worth it the second you opened the door.”

As you watch your boyfriend drift off to sleep, feeling so full of love for him that you might burst, you make a mental note to make it extra worth it for him later just for that adorable comment. 

After you’ve both slept a few hours and spent another few making up for lost time, you spend the rest of Christmas Eve watching films and baking cookies. 

The next morning, you both wake up early and exchange presents in your festive pyjamas. It’s not the same as if you were in London with both your families, but it’s still perfect because you’re together. 

And a year later, when you’ve graduated and you’re celebrating your first Christmas in your new home with a diamond ring on your finger, it’s even better. 

i hope you enjoyed this story! and thank you for all your lovely comments on my last fic. if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for my ben fics in the future, please let me know! ❤️💚

[chaotic-orphan]

INTOXICATING FEAR (IX)

Much Needed Alone Time

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: overall content warning, very uncomfortable, forced self-harm, self-harm, mentions of self-harm, explicit self harm, gory self harm, blood, cuts, knives, cutting, explicit detail of blood/wounds, gross depictions of blood, torture, threats of violence, hopelessness, sadistic whumper

This one is even a bit squidgy for me at parts so take care of the warnings and of yourselves! Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Wakey wakey, Kit,” Ambrose sang. That was his only warning before a slap echoed around the room and Kit’s eyes shot open in shock. Ambrose was crouching in front of Kit, pale red lips tilted up into a half smile as Kit jerked forward. He didn’t get very far though.

Kit’s arms were kept restrained awkwardly behind him, bound tightly wrist to wrist. Kit frowned at Ambrose in question.

“Where’s Superhero?” Kit asked, voice erring on cautious. If Ambrose had managed to subdue or God forbid kidnap Superhero… or use him as his own little puppet toy plaything, then there really was no hope for either of them.

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about Superhero, Kit. He had to nip out on an errand which gives us some much-needed alone time,” Ambrose said, his voice too high and pleased with himself as he spoke, but his eyes… Kit swallowed the lump in his throat at the pain they promised. “Ah, there you are. There’s my scared, timid little Kit. You forgot yourself before, it’s okay. You can admit it, it’s only the two of us here after all.”

“I didn’t forget myself,” Kit snarled, bearing his teeth at Ambrose and jerking forward in the chair as far as he were able to. “I am done playing by the rules of your sick twisted games.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side, dark eyes drinking in Kit’s threat. “Did seeing Superhero make you brave, Kit?”

“He’s going to see right through you,” Kit sneered, “and when he does, I’ll be there. Watching as he beats the—”

Ambrose jumped at Kit, one hand going to his throat while the other pressed a knife against Kit’s cheek. Ambrose wrenched Kit’s head up, so he was staring directly into Ambrose’s eyes with that cute little defiant look. Ambrose revelled at how still Kit went once Ambrose introduced the knife to his face.

“You won’t be able to watch if I pluck out those pretty little eyes, Kit, would you?” Ambrose mused. Kit shook his, trying to shake free Ambrose’s grip, but Ambrose tightened his hold and pressed the knife in deeper until Kit stopped moving. “Ah, ah, ah, Kit. Play nice or my hand might just slip.”

“Take my eyes!” Kit spat, his voice taking on a feral growl to it, as he struggled furiously in his restraints. “Take whatever the fuck you want because you will fuck up sooner or later and it’s only a matter of time until Superhero finds out who you really are! So go ahead!”

Kit craned his neck up further, pressing into the knife that Ambrose held. Daring him.

Bold.

Ambrose pulled away, dropping all contact from Kit. Kit let out a scoff as he dropped his head and rolled his shoulders.

“Yeah, thought so.”

“You know, Kit,” Ambrose said with a sigh, pressing the tip of the knife against his index finger and twirling it thoughtfully. He turned his back to Kit, walking towards the front door.

“You’re right. I didn’t really think the whole sickness thing through, if Superhero comes back and you’re still as feverish as you were, well,” Ambrose said inclining his head, with a wan smile: “he’d probably recommend a hospital or a healer… both of which I have no need of.”

Kit remained silent. He glared at Ambrose as he continued.

“So, while you were out of it, I was trying to think of a way to get Superhero off our backs and I had a little lightbulb moment, Kit,” Ambrose said, and looked over his shoulder at Kit with a grin, “you wanna know what it was?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You’re so un-fun, but I will,” said Ambrose, turning to face Kit now. “Sometimes stress manifests itself as illness, Kit.”

“Well, I am sick of you, so that makes sense,” Kit grumbled. Ambrose laughed.

“And sometimes, it manifests as mental illness.” Kit’s brows furrowed in question. Ambrose smiled. “Don’t you want to have a guess at what I mean by that?”

“Not particularly.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Good. So, we can begin then.”

Kit tensed in the chair as Ambrose walked purposefully towards him, around the chair and out of sight. Kit turned his head, but Ambrose pushed it back, so Kit was forced to stare forward.

“Hey! Hey! What’re you—”

“Oh, not so brave now, are we?” Ambrose asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

When the cool metal pressed against Kit’s wrist he jerked forward, trying to get away but Ambrose said: “stay still,” and the sludge like command melted Kit’s brain until he was forced into immobile submission.

The metal pressed against Kit’s wrist again and to Kit’s surprise, Ambrose cut him free of the ropes or whatever was tying him to the chair. He still couldn’t move but for some reason being free didn’t exactly make Kit’s heart sing with joy. Something like dread settled at the bottom of his gut instead as Ambrose walked around the chair again.

“Now, Kit, illness… sickness, physical sickness can be treated by a healer or a doctor but mental illness? Especially from stress, perhaps… oh I don’t know, work related stress from being a hero, for example. That is treated by time away from the stressors.”

Ambrose paused to let his words properly sink into Kit’s brain. Ambrose didn’t speak again until Kit’s wide eyes met Ambrose’s with a panicked kind of hatred.

“No,” Kit said. “No! You can’t—”

“Oh, yes, Kit. Yes, I can.”

“Superhero would never… he wouldn’t—” Kit blubbered before furious eyes met Ambrose’s dark ones. “He would check on me every day—”

“Would he? A good soul like Superhero? Or would the guilt of having maybe pushed you too hard, or not having seen the signs earlier prevent him from coming regularly?”

“Wait, Ambrose. You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” Ambrose chuckled.

Kit’s mouth screwed up desperately, his breathing coming out a bit faster than necessary. “But— but I won’t be as fun if you can’t fuck with me when I’m at the hero tower, and you won’t learn about anything or be able to take down the heroes from within, or— or—”

“Oh relax,” Ambrose said with a wave of his hand. “This isn’t going to be permanent, Kit. Just a long enough break away from the stressful environment of being a hero. Some good old-fashioned R&R with yours truly will set you right.”

Ambrose bit back a grin when he saw tears gather behind Kit’s eyes as he struggled to try and fight Ambrose’s compulsion.

“Please, Ambrose. Please! Anything but that, please. I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want. Please, I’ll stop fighting you. Please just don’t— don’t—” Kit cried, cutting himself off with a heartfelt sob, sniffing as the tears started falling down his cheeks.

Ambrose moved closer, cooing at Kit’s pathetic display of desperation. He pressed a cold hand against Kit’s cheek and brushed the tear streaks away with the coarse pad of his thumb. A sympathetic smile on his stupidly too-red lips.

“It’s okay, Kit. Everything will be fine. Come on, walk with me to the bathroom. The blood will be easier to clean off there.”

To Kit’s horror his body obeyed Ambrose’s command. Every neuron in Kit’s brain was firing at him to stop, to not go with Ambrose, to fight, to regain control over his own body – but it was all in vain.

Kit stood from the chair and followed Ambrose across his living room into his bathroom. Ambrose turned on the light, and turned to grin at Kit, holding out a hand.

“What?!” Kit barked, wiping the angry tears from his eyes.

“Well, you have two choices Kit, you either; step into the bath or hold your arms over it,” Ambrose said, leaning his lower back against the sink and crossing his long legs. “The choice is yours; it doesn’t really affect me.”

“Is it?” Kit asked, coming to stand in front of Ambrose, his heart thundering against his ears. If he could stall for time and wait for Superhero to come back, he could catch Ambrose in the act. He’d know that Kit was suffering at the hands of a fucking tyrant.

The corner of Ambrose’s lips quipped up. “Knock yourself out, Kit. Enjoy the freedom.”

“Except it’s not freedom cause either way you’re going to make me do one of them, aren’t you?”

“Well obviously,” he deadpanned. “But I can wait if you want. We can wait until your precious Superhero comes back and instead of hurting yourself you can hurt him too. Would you like that, Kit?”

“You said you wouldn’t read my mind anymore. Takes the fun out of it, have you changed your tune?”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and stood to his full height, stepping forward and knocking Kit back a step with his shoulder. Kit’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he stumbled back, forgetting that Ambrose was taller than him.

“Honestly Kit, I try,” Ambrose said with another step. Kit matched it with one backwards, still glaring up at him. “But sometimes it’s so rare that you think anything in that little noodle of yours, that the thoughts are too loud for me to ignore.”

Ambrose pressed a finger into Kit’s forehead and tipped him back another step before Kit batted his hand away.

“Real funny, Ambrose. Hah-hah!”

“I try,” Ambrose said, flashing a charming smile. “But you’re right. I have decided. In the bath is better than out.”

Without pausing Ambrose pressed his palm flat on Kit’s chest, fingers spread and shoved Kit backwards. Kit hadn’t realised how close he was to the bath, so it came as a surprise when his thigh hit the edge. He shot his hands out to steady himself too late, failing to grab hold of Ambrose and gravity had him in its claws. Ambrose getting further away as Kit fell, his head smacking off the tiles as he landed awkwardly in the tub.

“Motherfucker!” Kit cried, rubbing his head with a scowl as it pounded from the whack.

Ambrose shrugged leaning back against the sink again, arms folded across his chest. “I did give you the choice to get in the bath of your own accord. This one’s on you.”

“Maybe I want to lean over it,” Kit grumbled, fumbling to right himself. When he settled Kit glared up at Ambrose from the tub. “Well, we don’t have all day. Force me to do whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“Kit,” Ambrose chided. “Don’t have that attitude, come on. Make it fun for me. Struggle a bit.”

“What’s the point? You’ll just use your powers on me and get what you want eventually. Let’s just cut through the bullshit.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Ambrose leaned off the sink and handed Kit the knife. “Kit, I want you to take the knife and roll up your sleeves and cut your wrists.”

Kit felt the blood drain from his face.

“What?” Kit whispered as his hand reached for the knife against his will. “Wait! Ambrose, you can’t want to kill me I thought—”

“Oh hush, Kit. Don’t be dramatic. Make the cuts horizontal. Not deep enough to bleed out, or need stitches, but enough to leave scars.”

Kit was rolling up his sleeves as Ambrose spoke. “Ambrose, wait please. Please! Wait! Stop! Why can’t you do this to me? You cut me! Make them believable? Please?! Ambrose please, I – I don’t want to do this.”

Ambrose crouched so he was eye level with Kit, looking into Kit’s too bright eyes that were already tearing up at the mere thought of Ambrose’s command.

“What makes you think I care about what you want, Kit?”

Kit let out a sharp hiss as the blade sliced through his skin. Kit didn’t look down. He didn’t want to see what his body was doing to itself. Instead, he stared at Ambrose as he cut and Ambrose stared at Kit, never dropping eye contact for a second. Black eyes drinking in every twinge of pain flashing across Kit’s face, savouring every morsel of emotion that bled through his features.

Kit was doing a good job of keeping his face impassive. Until the third cut. Kit sucked in a sharp breath as he banged his leg against the wall of the bath, wrenching his head up to stare at the ceiling and breathing slowly out through his mouth with a pained hum.

“Alright there, Kit?”

“Never bett— AGH! Fuck!”

This time Kit looked, and he wished he didn’t. Sticky blood surrounded his wrist, thick and dark and gloopy. Kit couldn’t even tell where the cuts were because the blood from the last cut had washed over them all, leaving streams of blood racing down Kit’s palm. Splashing down onto the snow-white acrylic bottom of the tub.

Kit was going to be sick, but there was no time as his arm mechanically moved back to slice again. Kit looked up pleadingly into Ambrose’s black eyes, looking for any sign of sympathy or empathy, finding nothing except his own pathetic reflection staring back at him. Kit bit his lip to stop crying out on the last cut before Ambrose moved.

“Okay, Kit. That arm has enough. Mo—”

“Wait,” Kit croaked, licking his lips. “Waitwaitwaitwait, wait…”

Ambrose paused, tilting his head, eyebrows arching at interruption. He didn’t punish Kit though or chastise him, so Kit took that as an opportunity to continue.

“The… the blood— my knife will slip. I need to—”

“Okay Kit,” Ambrose said softly. “We can wait while you fix yourself.”

“Thank you,” Kit breathed, dropping the knife onto the tub floor with a clatter. Kit’s hands were shaking violently as he wiped the blood on his tracksuit bottoms, biting his lip to quiet the pained whimpers.

Ambrose clicked his tongue and said, “Kit stop. You’ll ruin them. Use the water.”

Kit blinked up owlishly at Ambrose, eyes glazed over as if the thought of using the bath hadn’t occurred to him. Kit nodded dumbly and reached over to the end of the bath, turning on the cold tap. The water was freezing. Before Kit could talk himself out of it, he gritted his teeth and plunged his arm under the spray.

Kit let out a startled gasp of pain, making his other hand a fist and beating it off the side of the bath because the cuts stung under the icy water. Kit bit his lip and rubbed the sticky coagulated strings of blood from his arm and hand. He did his best to not watch them slither like snakes down the drain and instead focused on turning the tap off.

Kit looked down at his arm to see fresh bright red blood surface in his cuts. None of them too deep. Exactly what Ambrose wanted. Exactly what Ambrose commanded of him, and he obeyed like a good little puppet.

Kit pushed himself back to the middle of the bath trying to push that though from his mind. His damp tracksuit clinging awkwardly to some places as he scooted across. Kit found Ambrose’s eyes with his own as he wiped the fresh streams of blood on his tracksuit, half to dry his hands, half to fuck with Ambrose just because.

Kit grabbed the knife and got comfortable, balancing his knees against the inside of the bath, feet planted on the bottom of the tub. He cocked a brow at Ambrose, as if to say I’m waiting, and Ambrose had to laugh inwardly at the gall.

Ambrose’s lips quipped up at the simple defiance. “Okay, Kit. Now cut your other arm.”

Ambrose relished Kit’s shaking hand as he drew the knife over his skin. He wanted to record all of Kit’s micro reactions in his brain just so he can think back on this moment whenever he was feeling down. It was intoxicating.

To watch Kit’s hand tremor, his body fight against Ambrose’s power and not be able to do a single thing to stop him. He could feel Kit’s mental resistance trying to fight Ambrose’s compulsion off him as he made the second cut. Ambrose drank in his expressions, every muted wince that he tried so hard not to show Ambrose.

It was pure turmoil he put Kit in, and it was addicting. He could watch it all day, and never get bored but that was just with Kit. Most of his other victims had a weak constitution and gave in a few days into Ambrose’s mental assault, in hopes that Ambrose would get bored and let them go. Some of them stopped fighting him out of sheer weakness, but not Kit. Never Kit. How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? And Kit was still fighting him.

Even if it wasn’t fighting Ambrose’s powers mentally, it was his little looks of defiance, his unwillingness to concede even if it would make life easier on him. No… Kit was a fighter and Ambrose couldn’t get enough of it. Finally, someone to match him, to challenge him. To say no and make everything difficult just because. It was obviously an illusion, but to Kit it seemed to be some semblance of control that he could pretend to have.

His favourite part was coming up now… ah yes. After the third cut, Kit bit his lip to stop the sudden cry. A deeper cut. He brought his head up and stared Ambrose directly in the eyes, that defiance still evident through his pain filled, glassy eyes on the verge of tears. Even when he wanted Ambrose to show mercy, he refused to ask.

It felt like Christmas and Kit was a gift for Ambrose to toy with, to batter and break and fix and break again, but a toy doesn’t give you that same satisfaction. The euphoria of seeing Kit’s white knuckled grip tight around the handle of the knife as he sliced through his flesh against his will and tried to hide the pain in his expression. Or more aptly, trying and failing to hide it, made it all the sweeter.

Ambrose leaned forward. “Two more, Kit. One deep, one shallow.”

“Nn— no,” Kit whispered, his hand shaking harder now. “No…”

“Remember little Kit, what you are. You’re my little puppet. My plaything, you don’t get to say no to me. Now, deep enough to hurt but not deep enough for hospital.”

“Fuck you,” Kit whispered venomously as he sliced through his arm, deeper this time. Kit cried out loud this time, craning his neck back to glare at the ceiling and Ambrose leaned closer. Observing the strain in Kit’s neck, the veins popping out of his throat. His jaw that was clenched tight enough to grind his teeth. His voice that came out like a pathetic animal’s cry.

“FUCK! Ughh!” Kit groaned, stamping his foot against the wall of the bath again, trying to exert the pain in his arm and transfer it to the bath.

“Look at it, Kit,” Ambrose said, and Kit shook his head.

“Go fuck yourself, Ambrose.”

“Kit. I said, look at the mess you’ve made.”

Kit fought the command like he always did but eventually his head turned down against his will and his eyes fixed on the massacre of blood on his arm again. Ambrose watched as Kit visibly paled at the sight with a soft smile. Kit made another cut while he looked at his arm and then Ambrose plucked the knife from his hand. Kit glared up at him. Ambrose just grinned.

“Clean your arms with the water, then change out of those clothes and put them for the wash. I’ll get the blood out of them, Kit. Don’t worry.”

“You’re so gracious,” Kit spat. Ambrose looked over his shoulder at Kit.

“Kit, slap your cuts for me.”

Kit barely registered the command, but the sharp sting had him letting out a diminished howl through gritted teeth.

“You fucker!” Kit screamed after Ambrose, but Ambrose had already walked out of the bathroom laughing at the good of it. “I hate you!”

“I know, Kit.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

I and @aquinnix co-wrote this fic, Zed And Scar’s Guide on How Not To Do Basic Science, for @hermitadaymay’s Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event!

My chapters, “Gravity, Velocity, and Basic Physics” and “Conductivity and Meteorology”, are below the cut!

Gravity, Velocity, and Basic Physics

Honestly, neither of the culprits, who also happened to be the victims, could remember how it began.

But where it started was certain. At a sheer cliff-face on a particularly tall mountain whose peak reached past the clouds.

Zed planted his hands on his hips, squinting past the blindingly white snow up to the flat landing some hundreds of blocks upwards. “All the way up there?”

Scar nodded, his face painted in a grin far too genuine to be real. “Yup! I mean, I’ve seen mountain goats make it up there, and sheep too, and some chickens, and the occasional horse, so why couldn’t you?”

“I mean, why not? It’s technically science! Because… gravity!”

“Yeah! Good luck!”

Zed almost immediately regretted his classification of the request as science. Most of the cliff was nearly vertical, with only the tiniest footholds for his hooves. And he wasn’t exactly used to walking on solid rock and slippery gravel and fresh snow, so the whole affair hurt like the dickens.

From somewhere down below, Scar called up what could be called encouragement. “You’re doing great! I can hardly see you, but I’m sure you’re doing great!”

“Thanks, I think? Oh, and how do you intend to get up here? I can’t be doing this all by myself! Science is cooperative, after all.”

A pause. He had not considered this whatsoever. “Uh. Well. I think I’ve got ender pearls in here somewhere…”

“Break your feet if you wanna.” Zed resumed climbing for a moment, but then he had an epiphany. “Wait. Don’t you have wings?”

“Wings. Wings? Oh, yeah, wings! I’m a half-vex, so I can fly! Right!” Manifesting the half-transparent, and honestly kinda pathetic flappers, Scar made for the cliff at a pitiable pace. “I’ll be right there!”

“Sure you will. See you at the top!”

Putting his all into not slipping off and falling and certainly dying, Zed made a mad scramble out of the rest of his climb. Externally, the whole affair looked rather desperate and haphazard. Internally, he was exclaiming ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow with every new hoof- and hand-hold.

But somehow, he made it.

Collapsing into a panting heap among the snow and grass, he only rose when a scream echoed from somewhere below. Popping his head over the edge, Zed saw Scar dangling from a single outcropping (that he had conveniently missed on his own ascent), beating his wings into a hurricane in an attempt to stay aloft.

“ZEEEEEEEEEEED HEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEE—”

“Oh, you’ll be fine! And I surely have something to drop you…” Rooting around his pockets, the scientist produced a few arms-lengths of useless sewing string, a bundle of spider eyes, and, finally, a good, sturdy chain about as long as a spruce can grow tall. “Grab on!”

Without looking over the edge, Zed dropped the chain, which had a soulfire lantern on one end, and a caldron on the other. Dropping the lantern down, he anchored the caldron with a swiftly collected bucket of powder snow before bothering to check on Scar. Evidently, from the noises alone, he was still terrified.

“Zed? Zed? Zed, you’re gonna bring me up, right? Right? Zed?”

“Of course! But this is another chance for science! There’s something called velocity I’m rather interested in. And you might be the perfect test subj— I mean, assistant for the job! Interested?”

“I mean, if it gets me up this cliff, yeah! Go ahead and do science!”

“Gladly!” Promptly downing a potion he found in his pockets, which was probably strength, he planted both hooves and grasped the chain. “Hold on tight, until you’re going so fast you can’t handle it!”

“Why would I be going fast wait wait wait this is fast this is reaAAAAAAAAA—” Quickly returning to screaming, Scar indeed hung onto the chain for dear life as Zed put his whole body, which wasn’t much but was still something, into swinging him around in the air. Not very far in the air, mind you, but he was still airborne.

The screaming continued for an almost concerningly long amount of time, before Scar finally let go and was launched into the near distance. A tiny streak of blue and noise, Zed watched him depart happily.

Until he hit a tree. Face-first.

“Ooooh. Let’s mark that as human error… Aww, I don’t have my notes. Where could they have gone?”

One place, obviously. The ground beneath the cliff. Peering over the edge again, Zed spotted the book, the quill, the bottles of ink, the ink still in the sacks, the backup quills, and everything he needed to record his science, at the base of the cliff.

“Oh. Well. I do need to get whatever Scar dropped.”

He began the desperate scramble but in reverse, twice as terrified thanks to the dying light of the setting sun. The chorus of ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow returned in his head, and every so often he’d halt and start fiddling with his comms box to calm his nerves.

One of those times, he managed to leave it open and floating as he began descending again.

Of course, Scar chose that moment to ping him.

goodtimewithscar: Zed?

Yelping in fear and surprise, Zed performed his usual reaction.

A small jump.

The last thing he remembered from that afternoon was seeing his notes a split second before everything went black.

-

At least he remembered to record his observations the next morning.

“Note to self, falling off a cliff results in the worst back pain this side of getting kicked by a horse.”

Conductivity and Meteorology

Thunder sounded for seemingly the millionth time that evening, cracking Zed’s ears open again. It was loud enough to shake his cabinets, sending the pots and pans rattling. That noise gave him an idea, an idea that began bouncing in his brain harder the more the rain drove into the ground and the closer and closer the lightning became.

Who would be awake at this hour? he thought, and more importantly, who would hear me out?

He wasn’t on speaking terms with Cub after what had gone down in the shopping district, and Impulse was almost certainly still after his head for that thing with the cats. Grian wanted his hide for that incident with the fish, Cleo had sent multiple letters over that display he destroyed, and Scar…

Oh, he would do perfectly.

-

“Why did you want me to bring all my cutlery?” Scar asked, as he placed several shulker boxes on the kitchen table, their metal contents clattering.

“I didn’t even know you had that much cutlery.” Zed clapped his hands together out of sheer excitement. “This is perfect! You got the string?”

He produced several spools from his pockets. “Yeah..?”

Zed took up his largest pot and one of the forks. “Start tying things together. We’re going to capture lightning in a bottle.”

There was no hesitation. “Okay! Uh, is the string going to be enough? Your pots are quite big.”

“Don’t phrase it like that. And yeah, maybe we need something more. Got any wax?”

“…No? Maybe? Actually, let me check.”

He commenced a great rummaging in his pockets, pulling out boxes and bundles, tearing through piles of wood and stone and what seemed to be concrete. Zed started getting nervous when he began tossing terracotta around his kitchen.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, mate? You’ve got an awful lot of construction material on hand.”

Scar looked up, not even stopping in his search through gravel and dirt. “Huh? No, this is just what I happened to have on hand. Raw iron, moss, wool, oh! Even a lighting rod! Dyes, wheat seeds—”

“Did you just say you have a lighting rod, Scar?” Zed’s hooves began to drum in excitement. “Three copper, arranged in a line? An honest-to-Void lightning rod?”

”Jeez, calm down. Yeah, it’s a lightning rod. Wait, do you want to use it? To catch the lighting?”

“Yeah! I don’t know how yet, but that’s the beauty of the scientific method. Try, try, try again, and if you fail, try yet again! After all, what’s death in the face of great discovery? Or great fun!”

-

Zed stood looking at his newest contraption with pride. A monstrous shape of pots and pans with forks sticking out like so many feathers, her head, a kettle, was crowned with a lightning rod horn. It was terribly unwieldy and amazingly magnificent. She was also very, very heavy, and they had no chance at moving her anywhere.

“So… got any minecarts?”

“Nope!”

“I guess she’s staying here, then. Here’s to hoping that Seraphina won’t burn down the forest!”

“Cheers, Serena!”

“It’s Seraphina, Scar. Now all we’ve got to do is wait.”

”For what?”

Of course, lighting chose to strike Seraphina right then, thunder clapping barely a moment later. The flare momentarily blinded both of them, and while Zed instinctively dove for cover, Scar summoned his wings and flew directly upwards. And, being possessed of something akin to sense, he was wearing a good, sturdy, metal belt buckle.

Zed only stuffed himself deeper into his front yard’s bushes when Scar screamed. It was by no means a new noise, nor an entirely surprising one, but its length indicated that he wasn’t quite dead yet.

And a thump indicated that he had returned to the ground. At speed.

Finding some half-intact goggles in a pocket, Zed carefully wiggled out of his bush to tend to the half-vex. Very singed, very burned, and having lost his shirt to the storm, Scar was groaning mostly out of pain, but also out of annoyance.

“Ugh. I hate respawning after fire stuff. And I can’t see! You there, Zed?”

“Yeah. And I’m fresh out of healing potions. You want me to make it quick, or do you want to stick it out?”

“Let me die naturally, please. Losing my head always gives me the most annoying neck pain. Is Sofia intact?”

“Seraphina. And yes, she’s fine. I can attach the bottle and we can get our captive lighting bolt in no time. Just stay put.”

-

Scar groaned again, this time out of boredom. “Zed, how long has it been?”

“Long enough. Are you sure you don’t want me to end it?”

“Yes, let me live for now. I think I can see the sun!”

“That’s the moon. And it’s still pouring.”

”Aww, my nerves must be shot. Wait, if it’s night, do we need to worry about mobs?”

“Probably not. Xisuma made me light this whole area to the Nether and back, after the enderman incident.”

Another arc of lighting struck some far-off lightning rod, giving Zed another reason to sigh. Seraphina wasn’t particularly tall, barely making it to the second floor of his house, and her rod was hardly the only one in the area. Most of his neighbors had the good sense to put one up.

“I am this close to going over there and stealing their lightning rods.”

Scar seemed to groan in response, deeper and longer. And again. And again…

Wait. That wasn’t Scar groaning. Scar was screaming again.

“Zed? Zed! Get over here! It’s zombies!”

”Of all the—“ Pulling out his sword, he ran to the only shadowed spot in his garden. Three zombies and a skeleton were shambling out of the darkness, and Scar was desperately scooting away, trying to nock an arrow on his bow.

“Get down!” With a swipe, he took one zombie across the chest, sending it stumbling back. “Put the Hot Guy away, too! You’re more likely to get me than any of these!”

“Aww, let me try! OUCH!” Before he could even loose an arrow, the skeleton sent one through his shoulder. “Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow—”

“This is too much for me. Sorry, Scar!” In one movement, Zed put his sword through the heart, and Scar turned into light. “I can’t let my assistant have a useless arm in addition to blindness. Now, would you four lay off? I’ve got science to do!”

-

Four destroyed mobs and an annoying arrow to the leg later, Zed had refitted Seraphina with a bottle on the… hoof? Foot? One of the sticky-outy bits that anchored her to the ground, and he was waiting for lightning to strike for the third time. Judging by his clock (which he thought worked, probably), he had two hours of night before the storm inevitably passed. Another boom sounded, in the far off mountains.

Void below, this was boring without Scar.

Zedaph: Is anyone else awake out there?

The radio silence stretched on for a little longer than necessary before someone answered.

docm77: I am

Oh. That is. Interesting.

Zedaph: Hi there, late night buddy! Or should I say early morning buddy?

docm77: What’s keeping you awake?

Zedaph: Science! Wanna see?

Radio silence, again. Typical. Turning back to Seraphina, Zed almost shut his comms box when a response finally popped up.

docm77: Not like I have anything better to do

-

Doc almost immediately regretted his decision.

“Why… no, what is the purpose of this?” He gestured at the giant pile of pots and pans and forks and buckets and scrap metal and old weapons and a single lightning rod. “I assume you want to conduct some electricity, but why?”

“I want to catch lightning in a bottle! And Seraphina here—“

“Of course you named it.”

“—is going to do it for me! Oh, and don’t look so glum, Doc. You don’t need to do anything but wait!”

“…fine.”

Settling down onto his hooves in a crouch, Doc couldn’t help but look around Zed’s front yard with concern. “Are you sure this place is mob proof? I can see a lot of shadows.”

“Don’t worry! X himself came over and certified it. I’ve got the paper somewhere in here.”

As he began rooting around in his pockets and Doc tried to count the number of forks on Seraphina, no-one heard the nigh silent footsteps of a creeper… well, creeping below the contraption.

And storm decided just then to send a bolt of lightning.

The creeper never saw it coming, but thankfully, Zed and Doc saw it easy enough. The surroundings were certainly dark enough for it.

“Hey Doc? Doc, why is the creeper glowing?”

“Don’t ask me, man! It’s your science!”

Zed began backing away very, very slowly. “I think it’s the creeper’s science now, mate.”

“You don’t say.”

“I mean, we kill it. Right? See what the lightning did to the insides?”

“No… No. This is your problem now.” Doc got up and pulled out a compass. “The nearest nether portal is a hundred and twenty blocks that way…”

Zed waved him a happy farewell. “Suit yourself! More science for me!”

In that time, the creeper had approached, creeping as best it could while glowing like a lantern. And then it did what creepers do.

-

Zed woke up the next morning in a lot of pain everywhere on the back of his body. It was a fascinating pain, like normal explosion remnants but somehow worse. He hurt especially badly on the back of the head and on his rear end, but it wasn’t anything debilitating. Yet.

Opening up his comms box, he found people conversing normally, Doc cursing his name for all to see, and Scar pinging him at least twice a minute.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

There was probably no use in replying.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Probably.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Okay, fine.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Zedaph: Yes, Scar?

goodtimewithscar: Finally! Did you get the lightning?

Huh. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Scar wasn’t actually mad.

Zedaph: No

Zedaph: Creeper got the lightning, and creeper got me

goodtimewithscar: Oh

goodtimewtihscar: Did you do science?

He smiled. Maybe it was worth the pain.

Zedaph: Yes! Lots!

[andivmg]

Hello o/

I’ve been offline since I’m in school and I have a job but because there are so many new people here I just wanted to hit a quick introduction for those who don’t really know me too well and to also say thank you all so so so much for all your support the past couple of days. I have read so many lovely messages from you guys and it truly means the world to me to feel seen, heard, understood and supported.

So I want to start off by saying hi! My name is Andrea, but online I go by Andi. I used to be a content creator on tiktok and twitch from 2020-2022. At the end of 2022 I decided to remove myself from the content scene for personal reasons. And now I’m pursuing a career in esthetics, which is something I am extremely passionate about!

I originally created this blog as a sort of safe space for myself outside of twitter and now I just kind of use it to post life updates and stuff. But, I still want this to be a safe space for me to just kind of yap about my life into the void sometimes. I wanna make it very clear that I am not interested in creating content or promoting anything so if you’re here for someone to stan, I am sorry to disappoint. Sometimes I disappear for weeks at a time and sometimes I’m super active. Most of the time people come here looking for advice, which is really nice, because I love helping other people navigate through their experiences and emotions. But, I don’t have the strength it takes to be a therapist or psychologist so I just post here!

I will note that my boyfriend, Danny, is a youtuber. He is incredibly talented and I am so so so proud of him! Because I want to support him in his career, I will appear in his videos occasionally. But, again, that is his career and his thing, not mine. I want to give him a quick shoutout for being my rock throughout the last few weeks. It has been incredibly tough to navigate and he has handled the situation and me with such grace, patience, and respect. So yeah I love my bf and I wanted an excuse to gush about him for a sec while clarifying that just because I am in his content, doesn’t mean I want to create content myself.

I also really don’t want my experiences and my relationship to that community to define who I am now. Again, I have almost entirely removed myself from that space. And I am very happy I did. I think the environment as a whole was not conducive to the happiness and mental stability of most creators. I truly, genuinely hope that everyone gets the help they need to lead genuine, productive, and fulfilling lives. I have said before that I am in a much better and happier place now. I’ve been in therapy for a little over two years, and I’m very proud of myself for how far I’ve come in my healing process in this time. I also am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by amazing people who love and care about me. In the future I’ll probably talk about my mental health more openly, but I don’t feel that now is that time.

To anyone who needs to hear it: It gets better, I promise. Shit happens, and even when it feels like you have nothing ahead of you, the universe proves you wrong.

Thank you for reading.

Much Love, Andi

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 16th: Library | Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation | Curious a/n: little Eddie & Wayne, ADHD!Eddie, pre-canon Eddie & Jonathan friendship. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | ao3 masterpost here

All his life, all seven years of it so far, Eddie has been told to be quiet, to sit still, and to not touch things. He can’t help it most of the time– there are so many things to explore, and learn, and find, so many different textures to feel. Eddie learns best when he’s able to physically hold something in hands to help him focus and it’s gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. 

But living with Wayne, at least for the summer, he’s been given more opportunities than ever before to lean into his curious nature without being scolded. They’ve gone to museums, petting zoos, science centers, even the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Each new experience is a novelty and Eddie’s loved every single one of them. Today though, Eddie’s nervous. 

“You almost ready, kid?” Wayne pokes his head into Eddie’s bedroom, warm smile and a cocked eyebrow. Eddie’s been taking his time, untying and retying his shoelaces over and over to stall. 

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m ready.” Eddie offers a tight smile, one that feels faux even to him. 

“Do you not wanna go? We can try something else if the library isn’t your thing.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I wanna go! It’s just…”

Wayne enters the room fully, sitting down on the bed next to Eddie who fidgets with his fingers and looks down at the floor, his feet swaying back and forth over the edge of the bed.

“Just what?” He doesn’t touch him, but Wayne’s presence alone is comforting enough. 

“What if I get in trouble? Aren’t you supposed to be super quiet and stuff in libraries?” 

Eddie knows Wayne well enough by now to know that he’d never get in trouble that way that he has with his dad, but he doesn’t want to disappoint or embarrass Wayne, either. 

“Well, yeah, on the grown up floor for the cranky old guys like me,” Wayne bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, and Eddie can’t help but smile– real this time. “But there’s a whole children’s room that has games, lots of books, fun stuff. And if it feels like too much, you just give me our little signal and we’re outta there.” 

When Eddie first started going places with Wayne, they’d developed their secret signal that probably wasn't too secret but worked just the same– Eddie would stand next to Wayne and step on his foot. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough that Wayne would notice, look down, and see Eddie’s overwhelm. And like promised, they’re outta there. No questions asked. 

“Okay, I think I’m ready then.” Eddie stands up and heads toward the front of the trailer. “Let’s go.” 

They’re at the library for all of a few minutes, Eddie hesitant to leave Wayne’s side as they scour the fantasy books, when he meets another kid around his age, maybe a little younger. Both boys go to reach for the same illustrated copy of a book about dragons. 

“Oh, sorry, you can take it,” Eddie offers, moving his hand instinctually. 

“No, no it’s okay, you were looking at it first. Go ahead.” The other boy responds, shrugging and looking back at the shelf. 

There’s a woman behind him, smiling down fondly as she speaks. “Sweetie, why don’t you share with your new friend?” 

“Yeah, if you wanna share, we could. Only if you want to though.” Eddie bounces on his heels, hopeful. He doesn’t get to make a lot of friends when he’s home with his parents. 

���Okay, yeah,” the little boy smiles carefully and pulls the book from the shelf. 

Eddie follows him to a small table at the end of the aisle and they pour over the pages, full of colorful illustrations and short stories. Eddie loses track of time, but he and his new friend, who he learns is named Jonathan, are just kids who don’t need to watch the clock. 

They finish the book and return for another, and then another. Eddie's disappointed when the day ends and they have to leave, but he sees Wayne trade contact information with Jonathan's mom, Joyce.

"We'll see you again next week, Eddie. It was so nice to meet you." Joyce smiles, sweet and comforting, and Eddie isn't so afraid of the library anymore.

[soulofapatrick]

You Infuriate Me - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You almost get killed and Joel snaps at you out of fear and being terrible at showing emotions 

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: small amount of injury really; angst and fluff

Y/N’s POV

The cabin is quiet when we step inside, the only sounds our breathes and the creaking of the floorboards. The air is tense, Joel moving left and me right, neither speaking to each other as he’s still mad at me for running off and almost getting myself killed. I thought I’d heard a kid crying for help and rushed headfirst into a raiders trap of a room full of runners and clickers and of course I ran out of ammo two clickers from clearing the room and Joel showed up just in time. He’s giving me the silent treatment and I’m not going to apologise and I’m not going to tell him about the blood sliding down the sleeve of my jacket, starting to slide through my fingers and making it a little difficult to hold my gun without it sliding around in my grip. 

Making it around the downstairs and finding the cabin empty I can feel Joel’s eyes on me but I refuse to look at him as he comes back down the stairs. I know he’s angry, I can see it in the usually soft honey of his eyes , but I’m angry too. I’m angry that he always treats me like a child like I can’t handle myself in a fight, like I hadn’t survived six years out here without him. It makes me wanna scream and punch something so I speak, “Cabin is clear, let’s go.” My tone harsher and colder than I intended but I just turn and head for the door where our horses are waiting for us. 

He says my name and I can hear the pain hidden deep beneath the anger but I’m not doing this now, wanting to just get back so Tommy can check out the still bleeding gash on my shoulder. Wanting to get back before Joel notices the blood and then lectures me even more, so I’m storming out the door and fixing my gun to Indiana’s saddle before swinging myself up and settling in the saddle. Joel’s huffing but copying me, eyes boring into my back as I ride ahead and refuse to look back. I can sense his frustration and disappointment but it’s unfair. A few days ago he was telling me how much he admires me and then he was calling me childish and impulsive and I was stupid enough to believe that he liked me romantically. That maybe he was telling me he felt the same way but nah, I was just being delusional obviously as the anger radiates from him.

The gates grind open and I’m off of Indiana, handing him to Isadore - our stable boy and one of my best friends - squeezing his shoulder and heading for Tommy’s well before Joel’s had a chance to climb off Callus. Tommy’s isn’t that far into town so I’m there quickly, not even knocking but storming in and making Tommy look up from where he’s washing dishes while Maria’s pouring over a patrol routes map. I’m shrugging off my jacket, a small pool of blood slipping out the sleeve and onto their floor ,and the shirt around my left shoulder is soaked with blood, which has both their attentions. Maria grabs her own jacket and leaves, probably to go talk to Joel while I throw myself into a chair at the table. 

“What happened?” Tommy asks, sitting next to me with the medical bag spread out on the table. He eyes my shirt and without hesitation I’m ripping it over my head, sitting in just my sports bra in front of Tommy but I don’t care. Tommy’s married and he’s pretty much an older brother figure to me. Tommy’s my person. 

“I ran into a trap and of course mister fucking know it all has been pissed at me the whole rest of the day.” I snap, throwing my balled up shirt across the room and quickly apologising when he gives me a look with his eyebrows raised. He accepts the apology and pulls out the needle and thread, handing me the bottle of whiskey to try and dull the pain. Of course it doesn’t and I’m digging my nails into Tommy’s leg almost painfully in a hope I don’t scream as fuck, it’s so painful. 

“You know Joel’s just angry because he cares about you.” Tommy speaks as he focuses on stitching my shoulder up, cognac eyes flicking to meet mine for a split second before going back to the needle when I turn my head to look at him. He’s got a face of pure concentration, brows furrowed and tongue sticking out a little, nose scrunched up to hid his freckles that are barely visible against his sun-kissed skin. His hair is tucked behind his ears so it doesn’t get in the way and the pads of his fingers are rough against my sensitive skin. I’ve always thought that if Tommy wasn’t married and I had never met Joel I’m sure he is who I would have ended up with but not in this universe it seems. 

“Yeah because calling me fucking childish; impulsive and immature is caring about me.”

Tommy chuckles softly, “Joel’s never been good at expressing his emotions,” He mutters, more to himself before continuing, “Y/N, that man I head over heels for you and he was probably scared watching you almost die-”

“How’d you know I almost died?” I cut him off and his head flies up, cognac eyes wide and I realised he was joking about me almost dying and now there’s a very similar glare on his face that Joel’s had all day, “Not you too please. Tommy, you’re meant to be my person.” 

“I am you person,” He huffs before finishing up my stitches and moving back to grab a bandage to keep the stitches protected, “But think about this, if it was Maria where you were and I was Joel I would be pissed and scared. He’s scared that he almost lost you,” I just frown, pouting as I know Tommy’s right. He’s always right. So the feelings I thought Joel had for me are real. I wasn’t just imagining them and now he’s getting the silent treatment from me and- “Go get your man.” Tommy nudges me up and I pull myself to my feet, eyes searching for my shirt but before I can even move towards it Tommy is holding out his sweatshirt that he knows I really love but everyone knows it’s Tommy’s and he doesn’t want to give people the wrong idea. 

I’m outside Joel’s before I can process it and I’m knocking before I can stop myself, hearing movement before he’s answering the door and I think my throat closes up when I see him. His honey eyes red and puffy as if he’s been crying, salt and pepper hair a fluffy mess from him running his hands through it and his weatherworn skin deepest with pain and anger. His beard glistening a little from the tears he’s obviously shed and I think my heart breaks as I’ve done this to him. Joel just looks at me, surprise written all over his face, before he’s silently stepping aside to let me in and I do just that, letting him close the door behind me and stopping in the centre of the living room. We just stand there in silence, facing each other and neither knowing what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, voice barely a whisper and I can’t meet his gaze, “You were right, I was being impulsive and childish and I shouldn’t have-“ 

“I’m sorry,” Joel cuts me off, voice gruff and almost broken. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, my hands trembling at my sides as he lets out a heavy sigh, “I don’t want to lose you too.” He sounds to vulnerable and I finally gain the courage to meet his gaze. I can see the openness on his face as he lets me see the pain and fear and it breaks my heart all over again.

I’m closing the distance between us, ignoring the dull throbbing in my left shoulder, grabbing Joel’s left hand in my right one and his eyes slip down to our hands, breath a little shaky so I speak again, “I’m sorry Joel,” I say it more firmly, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles before adding, “But you… You, Joel Henry Miller, are a dumbass when it comes to expressing emotions.” His head flies up, eyes wide and mouth agape a little as he tries to find the words but coming up with nothing so he looks like a beached fish, cheeks a rosy colour. I take his speechlessness as an opportunity and pull him that final step closer by his hand, his chest flush against mine. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body and the tension that has been between us seems to dissipate as soon as my lips brush his in a quick and testing kiss. 

Joel is looking down at me with a mixture of surprise and desire, I can feel his heart jackhammering in his chest. But then again, it could just be mine, we’re so close I’m not sure. Joel’s hand is shaking free of mine to grab my chin and draw me up into a proper kiss, the softness and neediness of his lips quickly replacing my need for oxygen. Despite kissing him for the first time it feels oh so familiar and comforting, like old friends rekindling a romance. I can feel the heat building between us, his tongue tracing my lower lip before delving into my mouth, exploring and teasing me. My right hand finding its way into his hair and pulling him closer as he walks me backwards towards the nearest wall. 

I’m letting out a pained sound as my back collides with the wall, sending a sharp and pulsing pain to ricochet through me from my left shoulder. It has Joel breaking the kiss, concern and worry etched into the lines on his forehead as I let my head fall back against the wall and my right hand instinctively goes to grip my left shoulder. I can picture the way Joel’s eyes have narrowed by the way his fingers trace over my hand lightly and he asks, “What’s wrong?”

My breath comes out in ragged gasps, silently cursing myself for not going to the market to get myself some painkillers before coming here. I breathe through my teeth, trying to get a grip on the pain and steady my racing heart, “It’s nothing.” I lie instinctively but I feel him shuffle and drag my eyes open to see him with his hands on his hips, one knee cocked out slightly and his eyebrows raised in the same way Tommy had earlier so I sigh through the pain and say, “I caught my knife when fighting off the clickers.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You called me childish and impulsive and I didn’t want to prove you right.” Joel lets out a sigh, his hand moving from my hand to my shoulder, gently pressing down to feel the wound. I wince at the pressure, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. He leans down and brushes his lips against my forehead, his voice low and gentle as he speaks, “You shouldn’t have to prove anything to me, Y/N. I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I didn’t mean it.” It makes my heart swell at his words and I reach up to cup his face, my thumb rubbing gently against his cheekbone. “It’s okay, Joel. I know you didn’t mean it.”

We stand there for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes, the tension between us dissipating as we come to a mutual understanding. Joel breaks the silence, his voice a little gruff as he says, “Come on, can I have a look?” I’m nodding before yelping in surprise when he scoops me up and heads to his kitchen to set me down on the table. His fingers fiddling with the bottom of Tommy’s sweater, eyes questioning and I’m nodding, letting him help me ease the sweater off and not helping but laughing when he chucks the material across the room with a grumble about Tommy’s clothing and his before his eyes settle on the bandage on my shoulder and upper arm. His fingers ghost lightly over the bandage before he’s meeting my gaze again, “Can I kiss you again?” 

“Please.” I’m gasping out, gripping the front of his plaid button up and yanking him forwards, meeting his lips half way, feeling the way his large hands land on my thighs to catch his balance. This kiss is passionate and intense, fuelled by a mix of desire and relief. Joel’s lips are soft yet demanding, eagerly exploring and tasting mine as he deepens the kiss. His tongue gently brushes against my lower lip before delving into my mouth, eliciting a moan from deep within my throat. I respond in kind, my own hands tangling in his hair as I pull him closer. 

“Y/N? Joel? If you two haven’t killed-“ Tommy stops in the kitchen doorway, a shit eating grin finding it’s way to his lips, “I see I’ve interrupted but I’m pretty sure you’re going to be wanting these.” He’s holding up a bottle of painkillers and I think I whimper which has Joel dislodging himself from where he was standing between my legs to take the bottle from Tommy. 

“Yes, thank you Tommy, now you can leave.” Joel is guiding his brother through the living room towards the door and I can hear them bickering and Tommy’s teasing and laughing the whole way there. I can hear him cackling even after the front door is shut on him and Joel comes back in, grumbling about stupid younger brothers. He puts the bottle of painkillers next to me on the table before slotting himself back between my legs and grips my chin, “Now where were me?” 

“You were going to kiss me again.” 

“Hmmmm, is that so?” His warm breath ghosts over my lips, pulling his head back a little every time I move forwards to close the gap. 

“Joel Miller! I swear to god if you don’t kiss me right n-“

------------

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[mychlapci]

do you remember me saying "i need to make Rodimus wet himself?" yeah. here. mean dom Drift making Rodimus wet himself. read my fanfic, boy.

it’s also here, under the read more, if you don’t wanna be clicking links ⬇️

Rodimus was not crying. He wasn’t crying, he was just so full of fluids it had to go somewhere, duh.

Coolant lines rupturing to slick his plating up with warm antifreeze, oral fluid pooling in his intake, the optic lubricant dripping from his eyes and down his cheeks tasting slightly bitter and hot when mixed with the snot leaking out of his nose. 

„Please,” he begs, high-pitched and breathless, little clouds of steam coming out through the corners of his mouth, frame overheating. It’s a miracle that all the steam that’s sputtering from the inseams of his plating hasn’t caught fire yet. 

His legs are up in the air, knees knocking together as he squirms, pedes clenching as far as they could, swinging back and forth as he did his best to squeeze his thighs as close together as physically possible. His bare valve throbbed in tandem with his entire body, and he felt it not only in his system, but with his hands too, fingers tightly plastered to his poor pussy in a sorry attempt at keeping all the waste fluid in. 

„Please, let me use the bathroom, I can’t”–

Drift shushed him. There was a little bit of pity in his optics. Or none at all. Or a lot. Rodimus’ vision was too blurry to tell „You can do this, just wait a little longer,” 

There was a stopwatch somewhere, that Drift was keeping an eye on, counting down each slow, painful, second. He brushes Rodimus’ shoulder soothingly, although he really only wants to make sure Rodimus doesn't drift off and remains connected to his body. There is no challenge, no lesson, if he can simply ignore the pressure in his tank. 

„I can’t do this,” Rodimus shuts his optics, vents wheezing „Please. What else do you want me to say? I can’t hold it, Drift,” Rodimus swallows, and shyly, voice small, he adds: „I’m going to piss myself,"

„You’re holding it just fine,” Drift assures him, placing a gentle, yet firm hand onto one of Rodimus’ legs, stilling it as it kicked out into the air blindly „You said you’ll last,”

„I was wrooo-ah-ong,” Rodimus gasps out, trying to hit all the keywords that Drift wants to hear. There has to be something that he can say that’ll make Drift let him use the bathroom, there has to. He kicks his pedes in the air again, pressing his hands harder against his valve „I was wrong, please, I really need to”–

Rodimus’ babbling cut off with another gasp, a particularly harsh spasm wrecking his body made his head spin dizzy. He stares at the ceiling with bleary eyes „Let me use the bathroom, please Drift, let me go ,” 

Drift pushes Rodimus down when he tries to get up, putting more pressure onto his abdomen in the process, and he just smiles sweetly when he notices Rodimus’ face twisting in agony „You insisted you can hold it. You even turned down a bathroom break, Rodimus, this is all your fault,”

Rodimus shakes his head, the bedding rustling. More tears leak out, his tank cramping down, causing his entire body to shudder.

„Please,” 

„No,” Drift says, stern as ever.

„Please, Drift, I need to go,” Rodimus does a needy little full-body shake to relly hammer in his point.

„I said no, you still have a few minutes ahead of you,”

Rodimus sniffles. He feels so pathetic „I’m going to piss myself, Drift,”

„No you’re not,” Drift insists, and he pushes Rodimus’ leg a little bit further in, forcing pressure against Rodimus’ tank.

It’s in this moment, with the next pang of pain that shivers through his entire frame, causing his legs to twitch in the air, that Rodimus realizes the inevitable. 

He is going to piss himself. 

„Oh Primus, Drift ”– Rodimus’ valve suddenly feels so warm. And so do his hands. His aching waste tank starts pulsing slowly, deeply, as its contents start to spill out –„Ah, haa- I’m peeing, oh fuck, Drift, I’m peeing,”

„Rodimus!” Drift hisses out, but there is only half as much heat in his scolding as there probably should be. He tuts, but it’s only to hide his ever growing lust. 

„Ah, hah, I can’t stop it,” Rodimus attempts to clench his pelvic floor, but his frame breaks through his resolve easily, too exhausted by the holding to be listening to the silly orders coming from his processor. 

Waste fluid squirts out from between his fingers, and Rodimus squeaks and sobs, face burning hot, hot, hot with embarrassment, and he can’t blink fast enough to dissipate the tears. 

„Fuck,” he moans when the stream intensifies, and his hands let up a little bit, so that they don’t keep him from the impending relief. The waste fluid squirts out and dribbles onto the bedding with a quiet, shallow thud, staining the mesh sheets and possibly soaking through the padding. At some point, Rodimus began to rub his node, though he doesn’t know when, only that he did, and that his valve feels so much better now, hot and needy and wet. 

Drift leans in, unable to resist anymore, and Rodimus feels his hot tongue on his face-plate, lapping up the tears. Rodimus hiccups, his legs, still up in the air, twitch and he hooks his ankles over each other, taking his hands off his valve. He’s still pissing hard, waste tank spasming with each sputter of fluid that forces itself out of his overworked urethra. It does not help when Drift’s fingers drum over his abdomen, teasing his poor tank on purpose. 

His own panels are no doubt feeling warm at the sight of Rodimus’ plight. 

After a good while, the stream finally lets up, and Rodimus’ frame begins to relax, bit by bit, tight latches unlatching, plating snapped to protoform slowly loosening up to let the steam bubbling behind his vents out. His legs separate and, too weak to remain suspended, they begin to fall, though only one of them manages to hit the bed, the other is caught by Drift, who holds it up in the air. 

Drift kisses the side of Rodimus’ knee, hand trailing down, down, down, until his fingers are touching Rodimus’ sopping wet pussy, playing with the puffy lips. Rodimus squeaks, looking up at Drift, his face slick with tears and coolant and condensation and saliva. And he’s still peeing, a little trickle slowly coming out of his waste tank, tickling his aft and pooling below

„Aw, Rodimus, you wet the bed,”

„Shut up,” Rodimus mumbles, tucking his chin against his chassis, his frame burning with humiliation when his valve squirts out a little bit of piss right against Drift’s hand, his thighs twitching „Y- you made me,”

Drift grins, allowing Rodimus’ leg to fall to the berth, thighs spread open to show off his blinking anterior node „You’re blaming me for your shortcomings?”

Rodimus flushes harder „N- no! No, shut up,” 

„It’s okay,” Drift slowly crawls over him, planting a gentle kiss onto Rodimus’ quivering lips „You can make it up to me,” 

„Please don’t”–

„I’ll bring you a cup of energon,” 

Rodimus just sobs, his traitorous valve throbbing warmly against Drift’s hand.

[artemivsa]

𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀 (𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐗) 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐩𝐭. 𝟏). 

sentence starters taken from the first six tracks of daisy jones and the six’s album aurora (2023). change pronouns as you see fit. 

track 1: AURORA. 

❛ you found me in the flames. ❜

❛ you’re my morning sun. ❜

❛ when i was away, you called me from a fever dream. ❜

❛ i kind of think i wanna make it last forever. ❜

❛ i’m here, i won’t disappear again. ❜

❛ how soon can you come? ❜

❛ where did you turn when you reached out for my touch and i couldn’t give you much? ❜

❛ i was running from your life. ❜

❛ strung out on the lies, with my tongue out of my mind. ❜

❛ i kinda thought the night was gonna last forever. ❜

track 2: LET ME DOWN EASY. 

❛ you found me lost in a daydream feelin’ i’ve been awake too long. ❜

❛ my eyes are open while my heart keeps sinking deeper. ❜

❛ every lie’s true at the time, baby, that’s the thrill. ❜

❛ won’t you let me down easy, if you’re gonna let me down. ❜

❛ don't you go and tell me that you love me while you're leavin'. ❜

❛ i could see us waving from the distance, like a mirage on sand. ❜

❛ that could be us trading secrets no one else could understand. ❜

❛ i got you under my skin now. ❜

❛ why do you make it so hard? ❜

❛ don’t leave me broken and free. ❜

❛  won’t you tell me where you are? ❜

track 3: KILL YOU TO TRY. 

❛ i’ve been an angel all summer long, i swear i’ve done nothing wrong. ❜

❛ i want all of your tears to be gone, come along. ❜

❛ so close to get and so far away, come along. ❜

❛ could the words ever be unspoken? ❜

❛ could the truth ever untell those lies? ❜

❛ could a promise ever have been unbroken? ❜

❛ would it kill you to try? ❜

❛ since i found you, i can’t stop laughing. ❜

❛ i need you, baby, you’re my better half. ❜

❛ come back home. ❜

❛ what is it i must do for you? ❜

❛ call me back to bed to tell you a lullaby. ❜

❛ you got no damn right to be so damn heartbroken. ❜

❛ let me come home to you. ❜

❛ if i tell you, promise me you’re leaving. ❜

❛ show me, i’d blind myself to see it. ❜

track 4: TWO AGAINST THREE. 

❛ boys were invincible lovers, just begging to be destroyed. ❜

❛ i’m bathed and going back to bed. ❜

❛ this was never any cause for alarm. ❜

❛ it seems you have a choice to make. ❜

❛ all i need’s a promise i can keep to myself. ❜

❛ i know those mornings are as good as it ever can be. ❜

❛ feeling our hearts are beating tenderly, two against three. ❜

❛ i’m nowhere near you. ❜

track 5: LOOK AT US NOW (HONEYCOMB) 

❛ i don’t know who i am. ❜

❛ baby, do you know who you are? ❜

❛ is it out of our hands? ❜

❛ tell me how we made it this far. ❜

❛ did we unravel a long time ago? ❜

❛ is there too much we don’t wanna know? ❜

❛ i wish it was easy but it isn’t so. ❜

❛ we could make a good thing bad. ❜

❛ you’ve been crying in the dark. ❜

❛ how did we get here? how do we get out? ❜

❛ baby, look at us now. ❜

❛ this thing we’ve been doing ain’t working out, why can’t you just admit it to me? ❜

❛ we used to be something to see. ❜

track 6: REGRET ME. 

❛ you regret me and i’ll regret you. ❜

❛ except i don’t care what you feel. ❜

❛ so go ahead and regret me but i’m beating you to it, dude. ❜

❛ you couldn’t handle your liquor and you can’t seem to handle the truth. ❜

❛ i’m perfectly ready to strike. ❜

❛ i’ll do anything you please. ❜

❛ go ahead and regret me but i always will too. ❜

[writers-advocate]

think | j.w.

description: you’ve known john for years. he went to you for sanctuary during the events of… well, everything. now that he’s gone, you wallow in your sorrows [song fic]

cw: angst, grief, drinking, close call assault

go ahead, you’re taking me down now

you perk up ever so slightly when you recognize the next song, vision spinning with the sudden movement, and you hum. “woah.”

give me give me give me give me what you don’t know

the bourbon in your glass swirls along with the movements of your wrist and a soft sigh escapes you, thinking of the bottle he’d left behind. a gift for christmas years ago, and you smile as you remember how your friend had scolded him for it.

how you’d shared two glasses just months ago.

the remnants of it are long gone now, but not before giving you the brilliant idea to come here and continue drowning your sorrows.

go ahead, take me all out now

get this, get this into your game

he’s been sitting at your side for at least an hour now, and you haven’t noticed. you’ll get yourself killed if you don’t pay more attention, he thinks with a grimace.

maybe someone’ll put me out of my misery when i leave, you think with a drunken giggle.

“you got me in a heady drop

i never wanna come off”

he can faintly hear your voice through the hum of the crowd and he realizes he’s leaning closer, back still turned to you. out of the corner of his eye, he sees your face screw up slightly when a familiar cologne invades your senses through your inebriated haze. tears form on your waterline and he curses himself for forgetting every word in his vocabulary. “… just like him,” you mumble to yourself.

you got me with your beat-up bluff

i never wanna come up

images of all kinds claw their way into your mind and your eyes squeeze shut, clutching your glass. him, broken and bloody on your far too small couch. his hands dwarfing the same tools you used at work. that smile that seemed to make it’s way onto his face more often by the last time you’d had a calm night.

his eyes staring back at you in the brown liquor.

think of me, i’ll never break your heart

think of me, you’re always in the dark

you laugh again, bitterly this time, and push away from the bar suddenly, downing the rest of your drink with a click of your tongue and stumbling away from him. he gets up to follow, watching as another man does the same. you’ll get yourself killed, he thinks again, eyes sharper now.

i am your light, your light, your light

think of me, you’re never in the dark

the narrow hall leading to the back door and the restroom is a little brighter, and you thank your lucky stars the small room is empty as you shut the door behind you. you stare at yourself in the mirror and scrub away the fresh trails of tears, huffing at the sight.

“right. that’s why i don’t drink this shit. ‘specially for these… these occasions.”

now that i’m making this align

let me let me let me let me in the unknown

a loud bang makes you jump and a pair of unfamiliar eyes meet yours through the dingy mirror, the door shaking on it’s hinges as it bounces off the wall before he goes to shut it. you go for your knife, he goes for your hair, but before either one of you can go through with your plan, another set of hands yanks the man back out into the hall.

there is no escape, so you sit there against the sink, open blade now in hand as you listen to their scuffle. it’s barely heard over the music until there’s a light dragging against the wall, then a thud. the knife is at the ready when the door opens, but nothing could prepare you for that familiar gaze to meet yours.

you got me in your open hand

i never wanna come back

“… i drank myself to the point of hallucination,” comes your slur, face twisting into an almost delirious smile at just how ridiculous the situation seems. he grabs your hand and for some reason, you don’t fight back while he drags you past the limp body crowding the hall, and out into the back alley. instead, you find yourself staring up at him, eyes shining with tears again, but they don’t fall, even as your knuckles rap against the side of your head harshly. “hey, i wanted t’stop thinkin about him. i don’t wanna see him. c’mon really?”

he takes your other hand in his and pulls you closer, forcing your attention back on him. he doesn’t know what to say. maybe his actions will speak for themselves.

a jougan that you never found

you know it’s gonna come out

you blink quickly, then speak again, clearly growing more emotional. “i don’t wanna cry anymore. m’tired of crying for him. he’s not… you’re not comin back so why m’i doin this to myself? why m’i seein you everywhere?”

he goes to say something but a slow shake of your head stops him in his tracks, and you’re able to pull one hand out of his grasp to clumsily cover his mouth. “you wanted t’be my knight in shining armor? fine, you get to take care’a me for the night. c’mon.”

it’s his turn to be pulled along, and he is once again stunned into silence. you’re really going to get yourself killed.

i think i deserve to play pretend. just one more night. you don’t let go of his hand while you walk.

think of me, i’ll never break your heart

think of me, you’re always in the dark

you must know deep down, he thinks. you’d fallen into your old routine like nothing when you reached your new, albeit shitty apartment. the dog shadowed him from the moment they walked in, whining until he gave him the affection he craved. it made you laugh and he suddenly realized he’d missed the sound. the genuine joy in it.

he tried to help you out of your outfit, the same little black number you’d worn to say goodbye. but now you’re in bed, half unzipped and unbuttoned and clearly struggling to stay awake. your fingers are once again laced with his, and you allow yourself to fall fully into your dream with a mumble, “don’t go this time…”

i am your light, your light, your light

think of me, you’re never in the dark

his fingertips brush your temple as he pushes your hair out of your face, cupping your cheek when he’s sure you won’t wake. “… i won’t.”

a/n: been a little bit since i wrote about my sweet assassin <3