#ridiculous fics of mine that find their audience

[amysnotdeadyet]

thanks for the rec! that one is definitely...something, anyway. XD

Cap-IM Rec Week - Hidden Gems Saturday

Day 6 of @cap-ironman's rec week event!

Everything on this list has fewer than 200 kudos, which is some sort of crime.

Falling Backwards (Till it Turns Me Inside Out) by Aeraneth (@aeranethwrites) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 5,706 words)

Summary: It’s Nomad against the Avengers, a Hydra patch on his shoulder, a gun pointed at Iron Man’s head, and a doomsday machine running down the clock behind him. He’s the only one standing in the way of them saving the world. Steve doesn’t know how he got here.

blue oleander by starvels (dinosaur) (@starvels) (Ults | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | 3,136 words)

Summary: It's been seven years since Earth was destroyed. What remains of humanity, of the superhero community, is on a ship, half-lost in the deep of space. But they're not alone. And what crawls through the portals in the aft cargo bay, day after day, is about as human as Steve feels anymore.

near-death cliché by meidui (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 860 words)

Summary: Tony doesn’t know how long he's been trapped here in the quantum realm, with no companionship except this man with long scars running parallel down the sides of his face.

More below the cut!

Yang by Captain_Panda (MCU | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | 4,233 words)

Summary: It's a paradise world. But it's not home. Steve's journey on an alien planet is not what it seems.

Glass Gardens (The Witching Hour Remix) by Woad (616 | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | 18,692 words)

Summary: The year is 1883. Spiritualism is at an all-time high, "taking the waters" is a popular cure-for-what-ails-you, and sanitariums offer retreats to restore the health. When Tony is shipped off to one, he is convinced his stay will be an utter waste of time. That is, until things take a disastrous turn, and Tony begins to doubt everything about himself.

shield your eyes (if you have eyes) by swtalmnd (@amysnotdeadyet) (MCU | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 400 words)

Summary: Captain America's shield is a noble, beautiful object that has been used for a lot of things. And now this. It is displeased with this.

Affliction of the Feeling by lomku (@oluka) (MCU | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 4,348 words)

Summary: “I’m going to hurt you, Captain. Really hurt you. You’ll be begging when I’m done with you.” or: Tony decides to whip Steve. Steve likes it more than expected.

Descent by Teyke (616 | Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 67,615 words)

Summary: A hundred years ago humanity fled to the skies to escape the Darkness spreading across the land. Now the Flying Cities are mysteriously sinking, imperilling every man, woman, and child who lives there. Together with the transmution mages Henry Pym and Lady Janet Van Dyne, and joined by the amnesiac immortal Dr. Donald Blake, High Wizard Anthony Stark mounts an expedition down into the Dark, determined to uncover the secrets of the magical calamity that wiped humanity from the face of the Earth. Also available as a podfic read by tinypinkmouse_podfics

Practically all podfics are under-appreciated hidden gems - these are just a few of my favorites. For more podfic recs, see my other lists: Sineala Stony Podfic List and Long Stony Action/Adventure Podfics

[PODFIC] Relativistic Heat Conduction by BlossomsintheMist read by Pywren (@phyrrhicvictory) (616 | Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | 7-10 Hours)

Summary: Ultron has attacked, obliterating most of the world's superheroes and resistance in a matter of hours. The remaining heroes band together and share what strength they have to get through it, to survive, and defeat Ultron once and for all. Steve Rogers grieves in the wake of the disaster and the heroes' defeat, and no one knows if he will be able to provide the leadership they need--but Tony Stark isn't about to let him slip away that easily. Based on the story by by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist)

[Podfic] A Real Boy read by M_Samro (@msamro) (616 | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1-1.5 Hours)

Summary: When Steve shows up for the Avengers' team meeting, he quickly discovers that the version of Tony in attendance this week is the artificial intelligence. But Tony is still Tony, the man Steve has loved for years, and him being a hologram doesn't stop the two of them from falling for each other. They just have a few kinks to work out. Based on the story by by Sineala (@sineala)

[PODFIC] Mercy in You by Sineala read by Pywren (@phyrrhicvictory) (616 | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1-1.5 Hours)

Summary: When Tony comes back from a very bad D/s date, in pain and abandoned by his dom, Steve offers to help Tony out and give him all the aftercare he so desperately needs. Based on the story by by Sineala (@sineala)

[Podfic of] When The Lights Go On Again read by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid [and nine others] (616 | Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | 15-20 Hours)

Summary: Aliens have invaded earth, and the Avengers are scattered. While Steve leads the resistance, Tony once again finds himself playing captive scientist. In the midst of a violent alien regime, separated by seemingly insurmountable boundaries, Steve and Tony have nothing to keep themselves going but each other. Based on the story by by seanchai and elspethdixon

[thesassypadawan]

Beloved Master (Unburnt Darth Vader x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: After a traumatic series of events, you find yourself being held captive by the sith lord known as Darth Vader. Alone and unarmed, you wish so badly for your beloved master to be here with you. Be careful of what you wish for.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.Size difference, hint of a breeding kink, and Vader’s big dick. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes:  The 'What If' Version: Beloved Master *Fragmented*

Part 2: Beloved Husband

This is a non-burnt Vader fic.  Everything is still intact and has been ‘enhanced’ by the dark side of the force.

“Now behave yourself, jedi, the lord will be with you shortly.” The male attendant sneered, taking great joy in your current predicament.

Standing there, wearing nearly nothing; you tried your best to maintain what little dignity you had left. You gave him a small nod and muttered a quick thanks, before stepping inside the room.

“Try not to have too much fun,” he chuckled darkly and closed the door behind him.

Hearing the locks hiss into place, you began to reflect on the events that led up to this moment.

It had only been a few nights ago that you stood in the temple’s meditation garden. Waiting patiently for your beloved master to return from an ‘emergency meeting’. When your private comlink was hailed, his voice ringing out from it. “Run. Run swiftly. Run to me.”

Everything was fragmented and hazy after that.

The night sky was orange. There were cries of agony and pain all around you. The temple, your home, was engulfed in flames.

You felt utterly hopeless. Worried horribly about your master. Completely devastated at the thought of not saying those words to him one last time.

You tried to run, but someone tugged hard on your arm. Yelling at you to come with them, to ignore his call. Something happened to that someone in a blaze of blue light.

You were no longer being pulled, but carried away from the chaos. Being whispered to that it was ‘all going to be okay, you’re safe’.

That’s when your whole world went dark.

When you awoke, you found yourself locked up in a holding cell. Dressed in the most ridiculous outfit you have ever seen. One that left very little to the imagination.

You did not remain there long. Soon after, the male attendant had arrived. He, along with a pair of clone troopers, then escorted you swiftly to their lord’s private quarters. Apparently, this Vader fellow wanted to have an audience with you rather badly.

It was with this grim thought in mind that the weight of your situation truly set in.

You were alone. Stuck on an unknown planet, which you could feel was entirely encompassed in the dark side of the force. You were without your saber, it’s comforting presence no longer hanging from your hip. And, most gravely, you were about to presumably meet a sith lord.

Scanning your surroundings, you hoped to find something you could possibly use to defend yourself. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the lavish bed chamber that would provide much help.

You heard the door behind you slide open and then close.

Swallowing hard, you tried to compose yourself. Your master had always said to keep your wits about you when facing down an enemy. To stay centered within the force. To keep your mind clear.

How you so wished he was here with you now.

“I am, padawan of mine.”

Your eyes grew wide. “Master?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Is that really you?”

Not waiting for an answer, you quickly whirled around. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over you. Standing before you, a gentle smile on his face, was…

“It’s me”, Anakin muttered.

Without a second thought you ran to him. And he easily scooped you up into his strong arms.

Burying your face into his tunic; you finally let the hot tears flow free. “Ani, it was horrible!” You sobbed softly.

Stroking your hair, he gently swayed back and forth with you. “Ssh, it’s okay. It’s all over.”

You squeezed him tight and whimpered. “I thought I had lost you.”

“Hey, look at me.” Hooking two fingers under your chin, he tilted your face upwards. “We’re never going to lose each other.”

Placing his hand on your cheek, he wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. “I made sure that we will always be together…no matter what,” he said malevolently.

Hearing his tone, it was as if you were suddenly released from sort of spell. Anakin was no longer the same, in oh so many ways.

His entire form had changed. He once only stood a head and a half taller, and now he absolutely dwarfed you. His hands were huge. His muscles blown enormous. He looked like an absolute beast, with yellow eyes and a heavy dark aura to match.

Maker, help you. He was the sith lord and you were finding it hard to resist him.

“Ani,” you spoke slowly, reaching to place a tiny hand on his chiseled chest. “What have you done?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, angel,” he replied nonchalantly. “I did what was necessary.”

Tightening his arm around your waist, he somehow pulled you in even closer. “You should be more worried about what I’m going to do to you in that outfit,” he whispered huskily.

A small squeak escaped you as you were suddenly swept off your feet and whisked over to the bed.

Trapped underneath him, it truly sunk in how utterly massive he had become…and how tiny you were in comparison. You shivered at the thought. Whether it was from fear or excitement, you weren’t quite sure.

“What is it, padawan?” He chuckled, hovering above menacingly. “Afraid of your master?”

You shuddered once more as Anakin brushed his clothed length against your inner thigh. Stars, he felt gigantic. “No, master,” you whimpered.

A wide grin spread across his handsome face. “Good, because this is where the fun begins.”

He crashed his lips into yours. The kiss was hungry and passionate. The kind that made you wrap your arms around his thick neck and desperately pulled him closer, deepening it.

You could hear a rumble of approval in his chest. The sound causes a warmth to spread throughout your entire body.

Parting for air, Anakin gave you a mischievous look before burying his face into your neck. He kissed and bit at the sensitive flesh. Making you purr. Marking you as his for all to see.

His hand, all the while, lazily slid down your form. Coming to rest on your breast, he cupped and gave it a firm squeeze. Eliciting a soft moan from you.

“I love the sounds you make for me,” he muttered against your skin.

“Ani,” you mewled, hands tangling in his golden curls.

“I wonder,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your body. “What kind you’ll make when I do this?”

“Kriff!” You cried out as his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple. Sucking and nibbling at it through the paper-thin fabric. Causing your back to arch, your hips glancing one another in a fiery touch. You both groaned.

“Or better yet,” he whispered, sitting back on his legs. “What delicious sound will escape you when I do this?” With the wave of his two fingers, Anakin used the force to…

You let out a frightened squeal as the meager clothes were torn from your form. Instinctively you tried to cover yourself up with your hands, but he easily captured them in his much large one.

Pinning your arms above your head, he playfully scolded. “Now, now, don’t be shy. Let me see that beautiful body, little one.”

That name, it made you shiver. You could feel the dampness and you both knew it had shot straight to your soaking core.

“Oh? You liked that didn’t you?” He taunted, running his other big hand up and down your leg.

Wriggling beneath him, your cheeks burned hot. “I-I did, master,” you replied weakly.

He laughed darkly at your embarrassment and gave your hip a firm squeeze. “Tell me, tiny padawan of mine, what else would you like?”

“Your cock,” you whimpered. “I would like your cock inside of me.”

“Are you sure about that?” He mocked, flashing you a smirk.

Anakin used the force once more. This time removing his own clothes. Revealing…

Your eyes widened and your mouth went dry. He was absolutely massive, a true monster. And yet, you wanted him oh so badly.

“Please!” You begged; your voice laced with need. “Want it!”

“I don’t know.” He laid his heavy cock on your pussy, dragging it slowly between your folds. “You were barely able to take me before I became like this. Aren’t you afraid of what will happen now?”

You moaned softly as you found yourself slipping into a haze. “Don’t care! Need it!”

Suddenly, he removed all friction. You were about to whine in protest, until you felt him lining himself up with your entrance.

“All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In a single, fluid motion, he pushed inside of you.

The two of hissed together, as you took every thick inch.

“So tight,” he growled as he bottomed out.

“So big,” you mewled. Relishing how full it made you feel. How his tip was dangerously pressed against your cervix.

Hiking your thighs onto his hips, he snaps them forward. Pounding into you at a brutal pace. Giving you no time to adjust to his colossal size.

“A-Ani…” You slurred, eyes going crossed from the stretch. “S-So big, An-Ani…”

He groaned at seeing your tummy bulge every time he thrusted back into you. “Yes, so big and yet your tiny cunt is taking me so well. Tell me, hatari, how much do you love it?”

You could feel the heat beginning to build in your core, tugging at you. “I love it! Love it so much!”

“Needy little thing,” he grunted. “Be a good girl now, let me into that perfect womb of yours. Going to fill you up so full. Going to make you heavy with the heir to my new empire.”

“M-Master…” You could barely form a sentence; you were so overwhelmed.

With a few more deep thrusts, he breached past the tight rim. Getting exactly what he wanted. “That’s it, that’s my sweet padawan,” he cooed.

You could feel the tears of ecstasy running down your cheeks. Your pussy clenching around him from the extra stretch. You were so painfully close and Anakin could tell.

“Let go,” he panted. “We’ll cum together, just like always.”

You went crashing over the edge. Mind blanking as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

His cock twitched inside of you. Filling you to the brim and beyond with his seed. Making your stomach round.

Catching your breath. Smiling warmly at one another. You both basked in the afterglow of it all.

Lacing his fingers with yours, still buried deep within you. Anakin placed a tender kiss on your forehead and whispered. “I love you. You’re going to look so beautiful carrying our child, my empress.”

A cold chill ran through you as you came back down from your high. You knew you should be terrified. That you should be distraught over the events that led up to this.

But as you gazed up into those yellow eyes…none of that mattered anymore. All that did was you being right by his side.

“I love you too, Lord Vader.”

[tiannasfanfic]

Jackass

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

| Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: When the cast of a popular reality tv stunt show is hired to perform in Corroded Coffin’s new video, Eddie Munson finds himself an unwilling participant, as well as a new love interest.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns, no Y/N. Strangers to lovers, Rockstar!Eddie x Jackass!Reader, early 2000’s setting. I’d like to give a huge shoutout to the Eddie’s Sluts Discord Server, particularly @strangerxperv and @kleenexwoman for their encouragement to turn this very stupid idea of mine into a fic. 🖤💜

CW: Slight Fuckboy!Eddie x Fuckgirl!Reader in the beginning; allusions of hooking up; surprise tazing; mention of a ankle injury (no details).

Word Count: 1,539

WARNING! The following show features stunts performed either by professionals or under the supervision of professionals. Accordingly, MTV and the producers must insist that no one attempt to recreate or re-enact any stunt or activity performed on this show.

One of the songs on Corroded Coffin’s latest album is a fun, upbeat rock song about doing stupid shit when you’re young. All four members contributed stories for it, as well as some of their friends, but while it was extremely fun to write, everyone just assumed it would fly under the radar.

We all know what they say about assuming.

The song quickly blew up upon the album’s release with audiences finding it funny and extremely relatable. The label quickly began promoting it as a single and a music video was ordered to be made.

While the guys had the initial idea of the video, which was to show each one of them taking turns doing the stupid stuff Eddie was singing about, the director took it a step further. The crew of MTV’s hit show Jackass are brought in both to ramp the situations up to ridiculous levels and execute them while Corroded Coffin performs in the background just slightly out of harm’s way.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant are all hyped since they are big fans of the show, but it isn’t all that exciting for Eddie. He’s never seen it. The whole concept has always sounded stupid as hell to him, which is only reinforced every time someone makes him watch clips from it.

Even though you had consulted on a few technical aspects for the stunt choreography, you hadn’t been needed for the video initially. A frantic phone call from one of your producers changed that thought when they realized you had some of the safety gear they needed. Since this was vital equipment, the shoot had to be put on hold, so you quickly loaded it all up and high tailed it down there. You decided to stick around to help since they were a couple hours behind by the time you arrived.

Since you weren’t at the morning meeting when all the Jackass crew members were formally introduced to everyone on set, Eddie doesn’t recognize you and assumes you are just one of the few extras that recently arrived on set. But, regardless of who you are, he thinks you’re hot, and since performing always makes him horny, he decides you should be given the opportunity to help him relieve it.

But while Eddie doesn’t recognize you, you instantly recognize him as soon as he approaches you. You can hardly believe it when he immediately starts flirting with you. Though, calling it flirting is putting it mildly. Even though he’s being incredibly smooth about it, it’s obvious he has only one thing on his mind right now. You are perfectly okay with this, however. You weren’t about to turn down the opportunity to get railed by the lead singer of a band you really like, and so you return his advances. Once lunch is called, it doesn’t take long before the inevitable invitation slides from Eddie’s lips when you ask what his plans were.

“I usually go back to my trailer to eat,” he says, licking his lips at that last word as he lets his gaze slowly wander down your body again. “Care to keep me company?”

His voice dripped with honey, his tone making the warmth between your legs grow. You smiled, opened your mouth to accept his offer…

And then your friends struck.

It all happened extremely fast, and with all of Eddie’s attention on you, all he knew was, one minute, you were looking at him with the sort of bedroom eyes that had the blood flowing to his cock already, and then then next, your body lurched forward into his arms as you let out a bloodcurdling scream.

You immediately jumped away from the now stunned Eddie and whirled around. That’s when he saw a man running away from you both while laughing his ass off.

“Ryan, you motherfucker!” you roared before taking off after the man. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

Confused, Eddie watched you running away until some wild, boisterous cheering caught his attention. He looked over to see a small group watching the whole fiasco that consisted of the other members of Corroded Coffin and a few of the guys from Jackass. They had a video camera out and were all roaring with laughter as they recorded you chasing the guy named Ryan around the video set.

“Sorry Eddie!” called Gareth through his laughter.

This drew everyone else’s attention to Eddie. The camera pivoted towards him as one of the guys, a man named Johnny, jogged over to him with a good natured, but cocky grin on his face.

“Yeah, sorry about cockblocking you back there, Eddie,” Johnny said, his voice sounding anything but sorry. “But, man, we owe you a big one for that, we’ve been trying to get them with the Taser Cam for MONTHS.”

The Taser Cam, as it turns out, was your idea initially and you oversaw the planning and execution. It was one of the most popular skits on the show and that’s because you were a sneaky little shit with it. Even though they all knew you could be packing a taser at any given moment, they all had a bad habit of letting their guard down around you.

Even though they’d been gunning for revenge for a while, all attempts to tase you in return had failed miserably. This wasn’t entirely a problem since you all had a healthy level of paranoia and distrust for each other by now, it was just highly annoying for them all. You always managed to work out when they were trying to set you up, even if it was at the last second.

So, when Gareth made an offhand comment to Jeff about Eddie trying to get his dick wet at work again, and drew Johnny’s attention, he saw how engrossed you were in the man, he couldn’t resist. This really was the perfect opportunity, your attention had been entirely on Eddie, and Johnny recognized this as their big chance.

Eddie was so dumbfounded by the whole thing, he wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or impressed.

In the end, he does get you stretched out on the couch of his trailer just like he wanted, only not in the way he expected. It was the closest place to lay you down at so the onsite EMTS could look at you. While you were perfectly fine from the tasing, you had tripped while running after Ryan and now you couldn’t put any weight on one of your feet.

“It doesn’t look like a break,” said one of the paramedics as she finished looking you over. “Probably just a bad sprain, but you should have some x-rays taken to be sure. Need us to take you?”

“Nah,” you said, shaking your head. “Tremaine will strangle me if I take an ambulance for a non-emergency again.”

Eddie blinked a few times in surprise while Johnny and Ryan laughed.

“Yeah, he’s already gonna explode when he hears about this,” Johnny said, taking off his sunglasses to wipe tears from his eyes. “You just got released yesterday.”

“Right?” you sighed as the paramedics let themselves out. “Wonder how much longer this is going to put me down for.”

The whole situation was so ridiculous that it had rendered Eddie speechless, thus he had been uncharacteristically quiet since your tasing. But the current conversation piqued his curiosity.

“Released?” he asked looking over at you.

“Yeah, by my doctor,” you said, nodding. “I’ve been off work for, what?” You looked over at Johnny. “Two months now?”

“Almost, yeah,” he said, nodding, then burst out laughing. “Man, Ehren’s gonna be pissed. This means you and Bam can’t do the boarding segment next week.”

You looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why would Ehren be pissed?” you asked, confused. “He’s not in that one.”

“No, he’s not,” said Johnny, and then a grin spread across his face that gave Eddie goosebumps. “But I think you being off with another injury is a good reason for all of us to be a little more safety conscious, wouldn’t you all agree?”

You and Ryan burst out laughing.

“Safety First!” the two of you then cried out in unison and Johnny clapped.

As badly as Eddie hated to admit it, you now fascinated him. Granted, he thought you were batshit insane at this point, but that only piqued his interest more. He ended up being thankful for the interruption.

With as thankful as he was for that, it didn’t compare to how thankful he was later when he found out exactly how close he came to getting tazed instead of you. Since they had to be so sneaky and quick about the whole thing, Ryan almost missed. One inch to the left and it would’ve been Eddie who received the jolt of electricity.

A few weeks later when Uncle Wayne found out who his nephew was dating now, he started going back to church.

Unlike Eddie, he actually does watch the show.

[nekoannie-chan]

Suit

Title: Suit.

Ship: 40!!Steve Rogers X Chorus girl!Reader.

Word count: 305 words.

Rating: Mature.

Square: G5 “Cock bulge”.

Summary: Steve thinks his suit is uncomfortable in a certain area.

Warnings/Tags: Steve is huge, very tight suit, nervousness.

A/N: This is my entry to @allcapsbingo. AC1078.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum  @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz  @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae   @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose  @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga  @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted  @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555  @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit​

It was the fourth time Steve had seen himself in the mirror. He still felt uncomfortable with that suit; he really didn't expect to wear something so ridiculous and that was so tight in that part, not to mention that it was too noticeable. He tried to cover a little with the shield since before the serum he was already gifted, but after... well, he had to look for other methods to hide it.

Or maybe he was just exaggeratedly nervous, and it didn't really show at all, nor did he look bad, apart from the fact that it was his first presentation in front of an audience. Oh, no, he had never spoken in public or done anything like that before in his life.

You gasped as you were told that in five minutes you had to go on stage.

You smiled when you saw Steve; you looked around him with your eyes and stared at his crotch; you bit your lip; you were going to do everything in your power to have sex with Steve.

"What do you see? "another of the chorus girls asked you.

"Nothing special," you answered without taking your eyes off her. The other chorus girl turned her gaze to where you were looking.

"Do you really think it's that big? "she questioned.

"Maybe it is bigger than it looks, and I will check it out.

"Are you ready?" Steve was trying to hide his nervousness.

"Of course, Steve, do you have anything to do after the show?" You quickly formulated a small plan; you were going to test your theory as soon as possible.

"No, I don’t."

"Well, let's go for a walk tonight," you proposed. Steve turned to look at you to make sure you weren't joking, then nodded.

You smiled again. It had been too easy.

[pebblysand]

Hi pebbly, I hope work, life, and all the things are going well. Big fan of castles.

Question: What is your opinion on male readership of HP fanfiction/guys reading your works?

Sincerely, a male reader aware of his odd demographic status within the fandom.

aw, thanks anon! hope all is well for you too!

to be honest, i don't really have an opinion! i mean, i'm so glad you (and maybe others) are reading this fic - thanks so much for your support! that being said, i don't think i have any particular hot takes on this! i'm just happy you're there!

i am - of course - aware that my audience (and the fanfiction community in general) is majority female. that's been established by many studies on the topic. but, assuming that the audience for my fanfiction podcast is somewhat representative (even if it doesn't entirely line up with my readership), it appears that around 10% of our audience is male. around 20% is non-female. so this isn't negligible.

[sorry this is in french, idk why/how to change it. it says: women, men, other, non binary]

i've spoken about this before but i think the fact that men aren't super present in fanfiction communities is down to two big factors:

men (sadly) aren't encouraged to read. i feel like this is particularly true for straight men (although, to an extent, gay men as well): for some reason, in the past 40 years, someone somewhere decided that reading/writing books wasn't "manly". that somehow, sitting at home watching sports on the sofa was worthy, but not sitting at home reading a book on that same sofa - which, when you think about it, is basically the exact same activity. it's especially bizarre because when you look at literary history, a lot of our "great writers" are men - to the point that many women writers, at the time, were completely ignored/disregarded. so, like many things, it seems that writing/reading was a worthy pursuit for men, until women started reading/writing as well and being successful, which somehow lessened the appeal of the activity. i think it's a real shame and i feel like it's a chance that's missed by a lot of men who might actually enjoy the activity, if only they were given more of an incentive. anecdotally, i was once talking to a (female) friend of mine, saying that to me, if a man i could potentially date does not own at least one book, that's a bit of a red flag. she said to me my standards were too high (😆) and i think that's a bit sad. but, it does explain (partially) why men aren't in fanfiction spaces. they're (mostly) not in original fiction spaces either.

men are also socialised (at least in western culture) to value the pursuit of activities that will yield the most monetary returns. there is still, to this day, a lot of pressure put on men to be the main breadwinners and fanfiction, famously, is anything but that. writing fanfiction is a lot of work, for - guaranteed - no money. i think women are used to working for free: in the home, but also because of the gender pay gap. so, they're more likely to accept this situation than men who are like: 'what do you mean i need to spend a hundred hours writing a fic for no money?' when i was unemployed during the pandemic, i freelanced as an editor and you would not believe the number of men who sent me novels where they were like: this started as fanfiction for [x] (usually video games) but then i filed off the serial numbers because it didn't feel worth it to work on something i couldn't publish. then, fanfiction gets ridiculed as this thing that's only for teenage girls/women with no ambition, and men are even less likely to participate.

so, i think, naturally, this reflects in the readership (and writership) of HP fanfiction. it's unfortunate, but it's kind of an undeniable fact. and, this is worsened because when it comes to entertainment, men and women are also socialised to like different things. and thus, because fewer men write fanfiction, men who would only be readers don't necessarily find content that "speaks" to them, and thus don't read it. especially because studies show that men, because they are often cast and shown as the main protagonists in media, find it harder to project themselves in women/works written by women. they feel like they can't relate. so, it ends up being this chicken and egg situation of: women make up for most fanfiction writers, thus men feel left out and don't read, leading to fewer men writing it, etc.

and, to be honest, i feel like castles (and my works in general) is a perfect example of that:

i don't think i write for women. i think i write for humans. but also, i'm not dumb. my fics centre around themes and characters which mostly speak to women. i'm a hardcore, bra-burning feminist. my harry is definitely a man-written-by-a-woman (although, jkr is a woman too so i don't think i'm changing much, there). i write a lot of strong female characters. i write at length about violence against women. a lot of men don't want to read about that, because they don't think it's "for" them.

we all know and have seen in the past that the issue of feminism and women's rights is mostly owned by women. sure, some men are allies, i'm not denying that, but most of the campaigning and the shouting and the screaming is still the burden of women. we're still at the point where in order to get men to care about women's rights, we need to tell them: 'what if it was your sister?' 'what if it was your mother?' as though women don't have value unless they are part of their family. so, i'm not deluding myself into thinking that i have a large male readership because i know a lot of men don't relate to the things i write and aren't interested in trying.

that said, knowing that some of my readership (even if it's only ten per cent) is made up of men, fills me with joy. it fills me with hope that things might eventually change for the better. that men are starting to care/get educated, and also maybe see that feminism can benefit them too. the idea that some dude on his sofa is reading my very feminist fanfiction makes my day, really. i write about feminism and politics because i hope to see a change in the world and part of that is broadening my audience to people who might not be familiar with these themes. do i suspect most comments i get giving me pointless nitpicky/unsolicited criticism or telling me ginny is slut come from men? sure. but these are a minority and it's the price to "pay" when you write about these things.

so, my opinion on guys reading my works is that i don't really have an opinion, aside from the fact that i think it's amazing that you're there and my only hope is that there will be more of you in the future.

thank you so much for reading, and for being part of this community. it really means the world! 💚

[plothooksinc]

For the writer ask; 15, 18, 20, 23?

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

Story titles: IN MANY AND VARIED WAYS. The reason I mostly don't name them until the end of the oneshot / first chapter is because that usually gives me ideas, but sometimes I'm literally just picking and linking key words. Sometimes they're named in a very meta way (Zaibatsu Project was an experimental project I started writing about Zaibatsu and my very first AU and the Zaibatsu also had an experimental project going and-- this is the only fic of mine that was named its working title) and sometimes I'm just going "eyy cryptic crossword clue" (Black Danube is a dance with a man in black). No Rest For The Weary was a simple name because I wrote the outline and the first chapter and I'm like "man these poor kids don't even get a chance to recover" which made me start humming No Rest For The Wicked, but you know, switch one of those words out. Some Rest For The Weary. As A Treat. was named as a direct joke my beta made! Etc etc. Whatever strikes my fancy at the time, basically.

As for chapter titles, sometimes I'm extremely lazy and don't name them at all. Most of the time they just get named something reasonably generic that ties to the chapter b/c I like to avoid spoilers, really. And then sometimes I sit there cackling about a gimmick that's gonna make the whole audience wanna slap me with a dead fish at around, I dunno, Ch. 19 as the theme finally lands. (Chapters named after Portal lyrics in which the two portal users (blue and orange) are key to defeating The Final Bitch? Delicious. Don't hurt me. But also those lyrics applied so well.)

So tl;dr it's just like: whatever feels right at the time. Or whatever makes me cackle like a lunatic, I don't make the rules.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

I have a lot of these. Uhhh...I'll just go the most recent?

“Of course we were!” Donnie proclaimed, arms folded. Then winced. “--n’t. Weren’t eavesdropping. Don’t be ridiculous, we were merely concerned that you had run into emotional difficulties of some—” Mikey smacked him in the shoulder. “I mean. Eaten by rats. Because rats. Are a thing in these parts. Zombie rats. They could still be here.”

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

Some Rest For The Weary. As A Treat. I'm pretty fond of. But I think the winner goes to literally the last thing I wrote, which is: There Is No Gravy.

(Because there isn't. It's all in your imagination.)

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?

Try to find a natural ending point - one which either rounds off one piece and pauses before the next, or cliffhangers your audience without ruining the pacing. Sometimes I get to a point where I'm like "oh good grief I'm up to 16 pages" and thus I scan backward and go "oh actually, that's a good place" - it became harder and harder to find an ending point as I went on in NRFTW b/c there was so much going on, which is why we started with 6 page chapters and ended on 20 pages chapters. The chapter that ended with Mikey being taken hostage was the one where I actually kept writing for a bit, paused and went "Oh, actually--" so that's why you got that cliffhanger, and then it let me switch to Casey as a viewpoint more naturally. (I initially thought I'd get the entire lair fight done in like a chapter but /insert sobbing here)

Thank you for the questions!

Ask meme here.

[wellpresseddaisy]

For the fanfic writers ask game: ❤️🚀🦋💘💛🎨 (🎨 asked with total innocence and no ulterior motives whatsoever 😉)

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

Both are from Long Ago (and far away)

If we're being a bit silly:

To be fair, death by smothering had never looked more inviting. He could probably manage it with a pillow and some gumption.

And on a more serious note:

"And it's hardly going to be a home without you in it, you ridiculous brat. I made you promises I intend to keep." 

He left his seat, knelt down before Severus, and hooked a finger around Severus' band. It warmed under his touch, the little serpents flicking silver tongues over his skin in greeting.

"We're Bonded, Severus, and that means something. I'm responsible now, to and for you. I won't leave you alone in this world, lad. No matter what shape this relationship takes, you're mine and I'm yours. You're stuck with me. In sickness and in health, forsaking all others, just as if we'd stood up in a church."

The honest kindness and the sincerity radiating from him left Severus as breathless as choking. He'd expected, really, to be left with a Bond in name only, a marriage of convenience, no matter the promises made. He hadn't expected any of this when he woke that morning. It seemed so far away now.

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

I tend to create as I go. I have a general idea of where a story is going when I start it, but those tend to be broad strokes. A lot of the middle gets filled in as I go. I do like to write out world building elements and backstory, though. 

For me, outlining feels like writing the story twice. Sometimes this bites me in the ass.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write

It's a tie between Severus Snape and Sirius Black. There's so much we don't know about both of them and it's fun to fill that in. Also Sirius is just poshing his way through life and that's entertaining. Severus is more 'well this might as well happen'.

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

Fluff, hands down. I have a fairly fluffy disposition myself and have a much easier time with it than angst. Hurt/comfort is another favorite. 

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

Keep writing; you will find your audience and write what makes you happy. Your writing tastes may change as you get older and that's okay. Just keep writing the things you most enjoy. 

Don't be afraid to try something new.

And sometimes you will notice themes in your work that make you feel like someone can see straight through you. This is normal.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

This is such a hard question. 

The bit above with Dare kneeling to Severus

Sirius having a proper bath for the first time since Azkaban (Poshest Bedstead)

I love these because they're really making me think. :) And also I'm avoiding reformatting HTML for work.

[plip-plap-plop]

Hi! I recently discovered your blog and was really captivated by your writing. I'd love to learn more about what inspires your stories and how you approach your craft.

Well, first off, Thank you quite a lot! You’re very kind!

“How do I approach my craft�� is a broad one but i will try to offer something unique if not useful, but as to what inspires my stories?

I am a ball of my favorite things. I am a ball of my favorite things, discussing life philosophy, airing my grievances and celebrating humanity through my preferred way of doing it, having ten different perspectives hash it out over beers, swords or, in the case of a young coconut, a crab fight.

I suppose as to my approach, while I’m a slut for the technical details, a thing I can say in a single post is that I’m being a ball of my favorite things, let me explain.

Because art is a navigation of the soul, of emotions and perception, it’s actually technically useful to nerd out. I’m big into media criticism, and my angle is mostly to see what I and others find compelling, and how that was done so I can emulate what I want to.

I think for every piece of significant size I can point out a dozen inspirations for different aspects that I’ve broken down for the parts and paid homage to. The big fic I’m working on takes inspiration from Ender Lilies, Attack on Titan, Bloodborne, Tolkien, the Icemark Trilogy by (I think Stuart Hill?) with later roots drawing from alchemy, various history works and so many other things that the inevitable mix is something only I could come up with. And as I’ve been writing stories that I did and didn’t nail for a number of years, I’m eventually circling back around and taking inspiration and even whole subplots from things I’ve done before that either worked or had potential.

For a more specific example I like the world building of Tolkien, Avatar: the Last Airbender, and Bloodborne, that all scratch the itch of “makes sense intuitively, and if you think about it more deeply, it’s still mystical and cool and there’s still more to explore.”

Because i find that really interesting, I gained pleasure from the inordinate amounts of time putting ambitious world building together so I can see in my work what i see in theirs. (I also had to accept a ridiculous time commitment) You obviously don’t need to do that specifically, Si Vis Pacem is quite crunchy and dense and is meant for a certain type of audience who wants to dig into something and break it down, or is interested in being told a mystery that goes over their head until they look at it a few times, and that person is me, knowing that other people are like me.

I also like smaller more straightforward pieces, like the game Gris, like Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, and nearly any manga by Tatsuki Fujimoto, and I do stuff like that, too, brief, linear and digestible, it’s just a matter of what itch to scratch that day.

The other tidbit I’d add is my “super power,” or at least my answer to a common problem, (specifically how one might know they’ve done well) boils down to a different angle on the same thing, and that is learning how to view your work as if it’s someone else’s.

Like if I’m able to inhabit the space of a character that likes what I like, what would they think?

That’s easier said than done, but in my case it helps that I’ve learned not to think of any piece of mine as inherently reflective of my identity. I actually recently scrapped a short story and cannibalized its concept because it was shaping up to say something about humanity that I didn’t believe. My goal wasn’t to see who I was through the art, it was to make it reflect my being, and through that, I often find myself better understanding who I am.

In all those cases, by contemplating what compels you and why, you can see if what you’re doing can move a being of similar disposition to you. That used to be hard for me once, and I think part of what I like about my approach to art is that it helps me process emotions.

To paraphrase Aoi Todo of all fictional people (Jujutsu Kaisen), if you train your eyes you can better prepare your hands.

By way of a caveat that acts as an example, I would hope you take what I wrote here, break it down and sort out the parts that work for you. It’s an art form, and beauty can be found in or in spite of just about anything, and your work has every right to be as experimental, weird, vanilla, edgy, deep, smutty or chaste, violent or clean as you want it to be.

Happy writing, and thank you for the opportunity to nerd out!

[bourbon-ontherocks]

I have definitely experienced this, anon is not alone!!

A few years ago, I posted the very first fic in a non-existent AO3 tag, and let me tell you that the sheer feeling of loneliness and embarrassment was CRUSHING. I'm not sure which one is worse between posting a fic in an active fandom and getting zero engagement, or being the only clown around lol, but I think the overwhelming feeling anon describes is the same regardless, as I definitely relate to that. For weeks, I felt incredibly exposed and embarrassed, getting a hit here and there but no comment nor even a single kudo. I considered deleting the fic. Multiple times.

And then. Then. It took almost three weeks (which I'm aware is a ridiculously short time for some fandom, I was just very lucky) but someone left a comment. And oh boy, what a comment! (@boom-goes-my-heart if you're around: 😘). They said that they'd looked for fics about this fandom with very little hope of finding any. That they couldn't believe my fic actually existed. That they'd loved it. And when I mentioned in my reply that I had almost deleted the fic, they were so grateful I didn't. I used to be in much more active fandoms with quite successful fics, but let me tell you that this single comment was worth a hundred of the casual comments I used to get back then. It actually made all the aforementioned embarrassment worth the wait. And then it took a few more weeks, a new season of the show aired, the fandom grew, and now it's a flourishing fandom with almost 200 works on AO3.

My point is, it might take a while, maybe weeks, months, years, but eventually your fic will reach its audience anon, even if, perhaps, you will be the only audience sometimes.

Which brings me to the second part of this topic, aka how to make that unpleasant feeling go away, or at least live with it. And my first answer would be, be proud of what you wrote! Being all excited to share something you enjoyed writing, and getting close to zero attention is, understandably, disappointing. But I find it easier to deal with when you actually love what you wrote. This is, incidentally, the reason why I didn't delete the fic I was talking about earlier. Because sometimes you might be the only audience interested in your own work, so you'd better enjoy it 😂

Another thing that works for me is getting invested in a new project. I like to think of my fics as little birdies of mine that I craft and shape, but when I hit the post button, it's like I'm letting them spread their wings and fly freely away from me. You can't control the way your fic will be to the world once you've posted it, but in some way, it's no longer your problem. That will be your fic's journey, not yours. So focusing on my next project helps me not to dwell too long on a feeling of failure.

And in the long term, I find that going through this kind of unpleasant experience can actually turn out to be quite positive! Because it helps to grow some sort of confident feeling that no matter what, you had fun creating something, and the rest is out of your control. Sometimes you'll post something that will get unexpected traction, and sometimes very few attention will reach something you loved crafting, and that's actually okay, it's just the way life goes.

Hang on in there anon, your fic will eventually find all the love it deserves, and I guarantee you that this love is worth waiting for ❤️

any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO

sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??

*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.

Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.

Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.

Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?

Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?

These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.

When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.

Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.

Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️

[thebibliosphere]

Hey Joy! A friend of mine is publishing her first novel, and she's said the re-writing/editing is going fine but the self-advertising has been somewhat difficult. Her publisher is having her make social media posts every day to gain interest but she's only got about half of the audience she's supposed to collect so far (70 people total atm). Do you have any advice as far as advertising goes?

Congrats to your friend, I’m glad her edits are going well. Unfortunately, it’s a truth well acknowledged that publishers will try to do as little as possible to help with marketing unless you make big money for them. 

Some of my trad-published friends are expected to do the same level of promo work one would expect from indie publishing, with ridiculous milestones that are hard to achieve if you don’t know how to effectively self-promo or garner a readership. I had a friend get told recently to “just go viral” like yeah, sure okay. It’s almost like something their marketing team should be doing, but whatever. 

Anyway, first of all, what’s her online presence like? Does she have an author website? A newsletter? Active social media accounts that use her author name/brand? If not, she needs to get on those asap and give people a good landing point to find her work and also promote herself. Also worth looking at is how she’s engaging with her social media. I’m going to assume it’s Twitter, cause that seems to be the big one these days, but she’ll want to keep her feed active, and not just posting her own stuff constantly. You need to promote and boost others: it’s a vital way of building community online. And while some publishers take a very dog-eat-dog-world view of social media and numbers, it’s absolutely not the way to succeed. You’re not competing with other authors, you’re working alongside them, and our chances of mutual success are increased when we lift each other up, rather than trying to trample downward.

Another good way is to start interacting with other authors. Facebook groups can be good (I don’t use them, Facebook just triggers my flight or fight reflexes these days, but I know lots of friends who find a lot of support on Facebook) as can Twitter. Some authors will do follow-for-follow because they’re also being put under this “must amass X amount of followers” pressure by their publishers. 

These groups can also be a good way to find out if anyone is doing newsletter swaps, where other authors promo your work, in exchange for you promoting their work to yours. You’ve maybe seen me doing a giveaway a few times with some of my trad-published friends: this was a promo swap. (Or it was supposed to be. I’ve given up holding my breath.)

Another good way could be through fanfic if she writes it. I’m terribly lax at this, but for anyone looking to build up an audience, it’s not a bad idea to leave links to your socials in the note at the end. It gives your readers another place to find you, where they might not have previously thought to look. I know not all publishers like their authors writing fanfic (which is nonsense: it means your author is coming with a pre-built audience), but if there’s nothing in her contract about not doing it *shrug* there’s more than one way to build a readership, and it can start with fic.

I hope some of that helps? I’m really not that great at doing these things myself... I’m lucky that my audience is just here for the sporadic chaos, tbh. I’m sure there are other good points I’m missing in my post-dinner-haze, so if anyone wants to chime in, that’d be grand!

[mdhwrites]

Love your wenclair fic! Your meta about Enid's character arc is also really good. It was great reading your thoughts, but I wish you'd go into more detail on the failed allegory of it all.

I just absolutely can not get over the sheer ridiculous failure of an idea that was "lycanthropy conversion camp". What were they thinking????? It doesn't work on any level at all. Apparently being a "late bloomer" is a common enough issue they run multiple camps for it? But if it's that common why is it so stigmatized??? The show never seems to come right out and say there are wolves who never fully shift, and Enid's claws point to her shifting eventually, so it becomes merely a matter of timing before the person "converts". That's a disgusting thing to have associated with the fucking torture of queer youth to force them to conform. And the attempt to cash in on lgbtq+ sympathy through this is just gross.

Ughhhh. I really loved Enid and Wednesday's characterization, some of the dialogue was spot on, but it really felt like whoever wrote the overarching plot had no idea what they were doing.

Thank you! I'm really happy with everything I've been doing in Risk Life, even though I still wish I was getting more done. DAMN YOU MENTAL HEALTH! *sigh* I am curious how much having three different directors for the show caused some of the issues with the arcs honestly. Tim Burton seems to push more for the idea of puberty early on, thus the term late bloomer at all and the idea of never finding a mate. A werewolf that never 'grows up' can never be a part of their society is what it feels like effectively. It also makes the claws kind of make sense because it's such a minor and small thing that it makes Enid feel like she's almost playing at being a big bad wolf when she's got her claws out. Then, when it changes directors on episode 5, that's when we start seeing more of the LGBTQ+ allegory. Unfortunately, the two just... don't mix. As much as I would love the reality to be different, this is the only story I've ever seen where coming out as gay or the like is how you are MORE accepted by your society which feels disingenuous to the experiences I mostly see from LGBTQ+ youth. A lot of people do find comfort in Enid's plotline though so if they do, I say more power to them. Also, the directors theory doesn't really explain everything since I think the writers don't change between episodes? I'm not as certain about that. Oh, and for anyone who doesn't know: Tim Burton directed the first four episodes, then the last four were split between two other directors who did two episodes each. As for the camp stuff, I'm still on the side of it just being... dumb. Especially since yeah, you're right, there's MULTIPLE camps for this? How large is the werewolf population then that you can run multiple of these? That multiple of them are possibly profitable? These are outcasts and rare divergences from 'normies', right? And yeah, as you said, it'd s SUBSET of that race that then needs to go to these camps. It's just... It's impressive how many levels of failure this is, not just on an allegorical level but a world building level. The one saving grace I'll give it is that the show doesn't take its fantasy elements seriously, for better and for worse. It's very much so there more for flavor than substance so it makes a general audience less likely to care about the actual world building. And for some stuff that's fine. For something directly correlating to real life atrocities done to the LGBTQ+... Less okay. That's why from a general writing standpoint I'll give it a sigh and a roll of my eyes but as allegory, I still growl and hiss. I also want to shout out though one theory a friend of mine had for the camps. It's that you get thrown into the wilderness with nothing to survive with so it's wolf out or die. Not literally, as the people running the camp will save you but you're meant to be put in such a do or die situation that you do transform. How does that fit into anything allegorically? It... doesn't so it still doesn't work but at least from a fantasy perspective it explains what they are. It's more of an answer than we'll likely ever get from the show at this point.

And my final note for 'they didn't seem to know their overarching plot' is going to be to Crackstone. Not even how he's a hypocrite who only has power because of his staff. No, it's how we go from a show that has fairly light fantasy elements to "SHE PUT A BLOOD CURSE ON HIM, DOOMING HIS SOUL!" Lady, I think we have skipped about at least a whole season's worth of build up to this level of fantasy, thank you very much! When the fuck was this shit on the table!? But yeah, I could rant more but this is long enough as is and getting off topic. ^^; I'm happy you're enjoying Risk Life, Not Love so much and uh, I might have some original sapphics of mine being free in a few days so keep an eye out for that!

[parkers-gal]

pain from pleasure T.H.

because i don’t feel like writing today, i’ve spontaneously decided to repost all of my dad!tom fics — this one included

warnings : cursing / explicit talk, a few innuendos (okay a lot, lmfao)

summary : tom goes through a child birth simulator — controlled by ag!reader

pairing: ag!reader x dad!tom [wc: 1.3k]

—

"So, Y/N," James started.

About a month ago, you and Tom had done a session of carpool karaoke for your new album, thank u next. Despite Tom not being an artist, you still wanted him with you for it, for that was the first interview either of you would be doing since Jade's birth.

"James," you mocked, laughing.

"Last time you were here, you and Tom had a bit of a disagreement on how painful being a... female is."

"Yeah..." you trailed off, turning to the side with an arched brow, staring daggers at Tom who was sitting beside you on the sofa.

"So, I've created a new game."

"Oh here we go," Tom said, and you laughed at him.

James let out an excited, and knowing, laugh before continuing. "I have a child birth simulator set up to see if Y/N or Tom is right."

"Oh hell no-"

"Oh hell yes!" You interrupted, clapping excitedly. "Payback for you making me do Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts."

Tom looked at you before rolling his eyes in defeat, knowing you were right.

"Alright then, up with me now, c'mon," James persuaded, leading the way to another part of the talk show set.

"This already looks ridiculous," Tom said.

"Ridiculous my ass," you snapped back.

"Ha-ha," Tom said sarcastically.

"Right then, Tom, you lay down and we'll hook you up before giving Y/N the controls."

"What? Don't let Y/N control it-"

"I thought you said childbirth 'wasn't that bad,'" You quoted, crossing your arms.

"Why the fuck did I open my mouth," Tom muttered.

"I don't know, you should really shut it, movie star," you teased.  

He stared at you playfully before sitting on the bed, holding his arm out and letting the professionals attach wires and various equipment to his body. When they explained how to work the controls, they sat in chairs off camera and you were left with James and Tom again.

"Lay back, lover-boy."

"How sexy," Tom replied, tilting his head. You merely pushed his shoulder, encouraging him to speed up so you could get started.

"Whaddya say James, should we start small and torture him?" You asked, a fire in your eyes and a smirk on your face, the controls in your right hand.

"No teasing, love," Tom said, the innuendo flying over nobody's head.

"Watch it, Thomas," You warned.

"I love when you're bossy and in-control," he shot back, and James and you burst out laughing as the audience let out a series of 'oooh''s.

"Right then, let's start," you said, turning the machine on and bumping the levels to a small amount.

"OH- oh, this isn't that bad."

You grinned, rubbing your palm on your thigh. "Not that bad?"

"Yeah, it sort of feels liKE- OW! What the fuck, Y/N/N!"

You giggled and James was already freaking out, slightly pacing as Tom continued to wince and curse.

"Alright, settle down there, Tommy. It's not even passed level two, yet."

"How many levels are there?" He wheezed out, his fists clammy.

"Eleven."

"F-uck."

"Tommy this is just the 'menstrual cramps' level. Grow a pair and suck it up."

"Grow a pair? I have a pa-!"

"When I say grow a pair, I mean grow a pair of ovaries. Your balls ain't shit compared to the pussy power."

"Jesus, Y/N," James exclaimed, laughing still.

"Let's up it by two, whaddya think, Tommy? Think you can handle level four?"

"Please," Tom said cockily. "My pain tolerance is higher than yours."

"The only higher-leveled thing of yours than mine is your sex drive."

"Y/N!"

"I'm just saying," you said, holding up one hand defensively. "You are the one who got me pregnant twice."

"Please refrain from sharing the details of our sex life," he breathed out, wiping his forehead as a blush covered his cheeks and reddened the tips of his ears.

You giggled, increasing the simulator again, only this time your hand wasn't leaving the control, but rather increasing it slowly over time.

"Y/N!" Tom whined, thrashing around slightly, his hands balled into fists as his knuckles were white. You heard the snickering from off-set, and you looked in the direction to find Harry and Harrison on the floor in tears from laughing, and you eyed them, almost as if threatening to say 'you're next.' before cracking a smile. "I said no teasing!"

"But you love it so much," You pouted, and the audience shrieked.

"Y/N!"

"Yes, baby! Scream my name!" You joked, James continuing his endless laughter.

"You should really be quiet," Tom said. "Don't expose my kinks."

"Oh boy, don't get me started on your kinks. We could be here all day."

"Says you!" Tom fought back between breaths, the sweat on his forehead glistening.

"Says me?" You gasped, talking octaves higher with a hand to your chest for dramatic affect.

"You're always-" he stopped to breath. "Gawking at my hands."

The audience, once again, erupted in so many different noises, each person reacting differently. Your response was witty and quick, something that always shook Tom.

"What? Can't a woman admire her necklaces?"

"Holy shit," James muttered, turning another direction to pace in shock, mouth opening and covered with his hands.  

"Alright, let's give you a little break," you said, lowering the levels to three.

"Oh thank fuck," Tom sighed out, releasing the breath he was holding.

"Prepare yourself, Mr. 'my pain tolerance is higher.'"

Tom groaned, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"I didn't think anyone would get to see you like this, Tommy," You said seductively, and Tom groaned again as the audience laughed. "Guess we'll have to add threesomes to your list of kinks."

"Don't act like you haven't asked me before, Ms. Dick Bicycle."

You gasped, staring at him in shock. "Don't bring Nicki into this! Ms.Minaj is a badass rapper, and that was a great line!" You huffed playfully.

( for those of you who don't get the reference: there's an ariana grande song called side to side, its abt wild sex and it's featuring nicki minaj; her rap has a part 'wrist icicle ride dick bicycle.' )

"Mhmm," Tom hummed, laughing at how you were huffing and puffing, struggling to get a response out.

You scrunched up your nose before waving the controls around as if to show him you were still in charge, but Tom didn't stop laughing. Only then he stopped when you increased levels to full power.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

You were giggling, the audience laughing along.

"OW! You go-" he wheezed and inhaled and panted. "You went through this! Twice!"

"That's right," You said, crossing your arms again.

"Oh god! Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!" He whined, cried really.

"What's this? Is Tommy begging for me?"

"F-UCK!"

You laughed before lowering the levels again. "Alright, alright calm your titties."

He was sweating fully now, ripping off the wires and other equipment from his body, falling onto the mattress a sticky mess.

After a few moments, everyone calmed down and Tom recovered to some degree.

"I was so wrong," Tom said. "Sorry love."

"Don't be," You said, hugging him as his head was level to your chest. "You can be sorry when your vagina opens ten centimeters."

"Tell me they don't have a simulator for that, too," He whined from your neck.

"We don't," James said, getting up with his cards.

"That was Tom Holland and Y/N Holland in Pain from Pleasure, and I'm James Corden and we'll be right back!"

Then, the two of you talked to James for a few moments before heading backstage to freshen up, Harry and Harrison awaiting the both of you.

"Well? How was it?" Harrison asked.

"Dude," Tom said, holding his shoulder. "Always listen to your girl."

"Noted."

[thisgirlsays22]

2021 Fic Year In Review

Thank you so much for the tag @raisesomehale ! I loved reading yours <3

Total Number Of Completed Works:

4

Total Word Count

65,976

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year less, or about what you’d expected?

Absolutely more. Last year I'd decided to focus on original stories and only ever treat myself to writing fic if it was short. But then Sterek ate my brain and that all changed.

Fandoms I’ve Written In:

Just teen wolf in 2021

Most Popular Story Of The Year?

El Lazo (Teen Wolf/Sterek | 51k | E | Complete)

"Seriously, Derek, level with me here. Is this some kind of werewolf mating ritual?"

"No, Stiles." Derek scowls, shooting him a dirty look.

~

Canon-flavored college AU in which Stiles is a little bit older, Derek's a little bit wiser, and Erica and Boyd still manage to get kidnapped by the Alpha Pack.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?

Phantom (Teen Wolf/Sterek | 13k | E | Complete).

Halfway through his interaction with Stiles, Derek realized his head was throbbing and he was clenching his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. His fangs threatened to drop, and he was still struggling for control after Stiles had disappeared into the sheriff’s office.

Derek didn’t stop struggling even after Stiles walked past his desk ten minutes later, saluted, and left the building. Not until long after his scent had faded.

~

In which Stiles unknowingly triggers a phantom alpha heat in Derek and then offers to help him through it. Against Derek’s better judgment, he accepts.

As proud as I am to have completed El Lazo, which pushed my writing and editing boundaries and me grow (thanks again betas, u rock), Phantom was a challenge but in a far more fun way. I've never written heat fic before, and while I'm excited to write more A/B/O Sterek fic in (near) future, the concept of this phantom alpha heat existing in a canon divergent world excited me a lot. And I got to have Derek be really tight with both the sheriff and Melissa so all my dreams came true.

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?

Yeah! I've got Sterek fics I want to finish, and I'd like to complete a draft of the original novel I'm working on now. I have some other goals floating around like editing/self-publishing a romance novel I've had completed for a while and finding a home for some original short fiction I've written as well.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?

For sure! From an original writing standpoint, I entered more prompt contests than I normally do to push my limits and potentially write in genres that I am NOT COMFY writing. The contests are all run by the same organization, but they do it for different lengths of fiction. You get a specific prompt, compete against other people in your prompt to progress to the next round until a group of people make it to the final prompt and winner is declared.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion:

In 2021 I don't feel like I have any really, at least not with fics because coming into a fandom so late where there's already a ridiculous amount of delicious content I feel grateful to find any audience at all. For original I'm still really hoping to find one of my very favorite pieces of flash fiction a happy home, I'm like 'hey! someone out there running one of these mags! I'm a nobody but i hope you are touched by this!'

Most Fun Story To Write:

Again, Phantom (see above)!

Most Unintentionally Telling Story

I have absolutely no idea about this one. I think every piece a writer writes must have something telling in there about them, so none are standing out more than others.

Biggest Disappointment:

Realizing that the first 25k draft of my novel just was not what I wanted it to be at all. The conventional advice is to push through to the very end and use everything you learned on the second draft, and it's good advice, I've done that advice before, but in this case...I think I need to take what I've written already & my outline and try something else.

Biggest Surprise:

So for those prompt contests I mentioned above, this past month was the first time I came first place in one of the rounds within my group, and the genre was sci-fi so I was like lmao this is gonna be bad probz. But the risk paid off and it was an awesome surprise!

The other big surprise is that Sterek has made me love reading and writing things I had never been all that interested in exploring before, and I'm having a blast.

My Favorite Part Of The Fandom This Year

I have met and am continuing to meet lovely, lovely people! It really hit me this year how the most satisfaction I ever get from fandom/life is from finding kind, open-minded, passionate fellow fans and having that sense of community in a way that feels true to myself.

Without @snarkatthemoon letting me beta her big bang fic and motivating me to write daily I don't think I would have had as much fun writing this year. I love writing, but again I think for me having that community vibe just makes it even more special whether it's fic or original work.

(I have no idea who has already done this, so please know if we follow each other and you want to do this, tag me cuz I'd want to read your answers!!!)

[ineffable-endearments]

Okay. Now I'm going to submit some theories about how I think Crowley and Aziraphale specifically are going to go in the future of Good Omens.

Again, this post is not really...specific theorizing about plot events. It's big-picture stuff.

With that said, this post will get a bit heavy at times, in the sense that it will contain opinions that not everyone will like. It drifted into rambling about queerbaiting and all that stuff. I'm not going to spam anyone's dashboard with drama over it, but it's very possible someone else might try. It's also not really a negative post, depending on what you want to hear, I suppose. But if you're only in the mood to read fluff today, you'll probably want to pass it up.

Oh! Also it's very long, and sexuality is discussed in a vague way that doesn't involve any story elements or body parts.

For starters, I don't think Good Omens 2 - or even 3, if that comes about - is going to have anything explicitly sexual or romantic between the two of them, where "explicit" is things like the characters giving outright definitions of their relationship or outright discussing exactly what goes on between them, either on or off-screen. I also don't think there's going to be kissing or "hooking up" (come on...that person on Twitter shouldn't have even asked). Those actions are too blatant for what Neil has already said about the series. While they technically leave some room for interpretation, they probably don't leave enough.

I DO think it's quite possible other characters will continue to define the relationship FOR them and Crowley and Aziraphale will continue to not deny it.

As far as the queerbaiting debate, "is Good Omens queerbaiting"...it's gonna depend how you define it. I always learned that queerbaiting was basically where the creators intentionally make it look like a character is gay or otherwise queer but then swap that character development out for a cis identity and hetero relationship at the end. The point is that the "bait" leads to queer audiences being actively hurt. That's the behavior that seems awful to me, and I don't see Neil and company doing that.

However, I think it's far and away the most likely option that it will be left up to interpretation whether Crowley and Aziraphale are, you know, a buddy duo or a romantic couple or some sort of ineffable queerness all their own off-screen. So if your definition of queerbaiting is "the characters seem gay to us, but homophobes can tell themselves they're not," then yes, I think that debate will follow us to our graves if we let it.

I am a cisgender, possibly straight (?? demi/bi? I might never find out) woman. There is absolutely no way I could ever tell anybody, ESPECIALLY not gay guys and nonbinary people - the people Crowley and Aziraphale tend to resemble the most - how to feel about their treatment in the story. All I can offer is that I'm one flawed individual and there are things I have the emotional capacity to handle and things I don't. Crowley and Aziraphale as both a canon construct and a fandom pairing mean an absurd amount to me, and I can't hang around in spaces where people are constantly talking about how my own interpretations of them are not enough, or how the story is written with ill intentions. I don't want to stop anybody from venting about it, but I am going to be removing myself from those situations.

I like to imagine 1990 NeilandTerry, or TerryandNeil, as a sort of two-headed God who came up with Crowley and Aziraphale, set them loose on Creation, and now are watching them get up to way more ridiculous stuff in the brains of their fans than they'd ever imagined in the first place. I like to imagine them watching, amused and bemused, as their creations fall in love in thousands of universes, and saying, "Well, we didn't specifically Plan for this, but we did promise free will."

This is psychoanalytical toward a public figure and is therefore a bit dangerous, so please take it with an entire mountain of salt, but I sometimes think perhaps Neil sees some of his and Terry's friendship in Crowley and Aziraphale, and suspect that he wants to reserve the possibility that they could be platonic because he and Terry were platonic, while at the same time leaving room for the fans to have their own interpretations, too. Because if there's one thing that comes up really frequently with Neil, it's his belief in imagination and how much stories matter to people. He can have his little corner of the universe where A and C reflect himself and Terry, and we can have...literally anything we want, as long as we're willing to extrapolate just a little bit from canon. It's not even that much extrapolation! It's just "Yes, they love each other, so what exactly does love mean to you?" and if love means kissing, well then, if we can think it, we can have it.

Given that Neil has written LGBT+ characters before, I think he has non-bigoted reasons for wanting Aziraphale and Crowley to remain undefined, and given even the small chance that those reasons may involve the grieving process for a dead friend, I believe it is unkind to argue with him about it or hold his reputation hostage over it.

With that said, do I want canon kissing/hooking up/all that stuff we put in fics? Listen, I can't deny that I do! Personally, I'd be over the moon. I'd probably be so happy I'd have to go to the hospital to get sorted out. Even the thought of it makes me giddy and light-headed, because that physicality is a part of my own experience of love.

However, there are a lot of people who would feel left behind if that happened. Ace and aro people in the fandom whose love for their friends and partners is just as strong as mine, but who are sex-repulsed or just don't want to see kissing on-screen. The loss of Crowley and Aziraphale as a pairing who are extremely easy to interpret as queerplatonic would be hurtful to them, and I do not want to see them hurt like that. I don't think Neil does, either.

So, once again, the "best for everyone" option becomes a really strong canon relationship based in both narrative function and profound affection, which has genuinely thoughtful queer undertones and leaves open the logical possibility for romantic or sexual encounters but does not insist that they must happen. People, especially fans who are super invested, tend to have an easier time imagining scenarios that take place off-screen (e.g. kissing, sex) than they have erasing scenarios that they've already seen in canon (e.g., if someone wished they could continue viewing it as an ace relationship but they were shown "hooking up"). Also, while relationships are super emotional and extremely subjective, I'd argue that in a long-term adult partnership, the non-sexual connection is more important than the sexual one. As a fan, I'd prefer to extrapolate "they love each other so maybe they'd have sex" rather than "they're sexually attracted to each other so maybe they'll intertwine their whole existences together."

It probably isn't necessary to add, but I will anyway: I'm aware that Good Omens is sort of sacrificing social leverage - the ability to whack homophobes over the head with canon if they try to deny the show's queerness - and is thus not really contributing to making specifically gay relationships more widely seen and accepted. However, I don't think all stories have to invest heavily in every social issue they touch on for them to still be meaningful. I also do think Good Omens is an excellent example of a relationship that is extremely profound without being heteronormative.

I don't think the next season is going to be a rom-com. It will likely not even be a "love story," where the definition of "love story" is "a story that follows the development of a relationship and employs certain plot beats to make its point." Remember that conflicts and breakups are key to love stories, so if it IS a love story, then we're going to have to watch the relationship get challenged in ways some of us might have thought were already resolved in season 1! And while that could be thrilling and ultimately very good, it would also be likely to undercut some of the careful headcanoning and analysis we've already done. Any sequel is going to do that to some degree, but a second love story would probably do it a lot, with interpretations that people are even more protective of.

I'm sort of thinking the next season is likely to be a fantasy-heavy mystery, only because those are the two concepts Neil's introduction led with - an angel with amnesia who presents Crowley and Aziraphale with a mystery. Crowley and Aziraphale's connection to each other can still absolutely be a major theme! It can still be the thread stitching the plot together! It just probably, in my opinion, won't escalate and escalate and escalate like it did in season 1. And it will probably be woven in there among a lot of other plot threads that are, in many moments, louder. Still, I'd love to be left with the impression of these two existences, the light and the dark, subtly becoming more intimate, subtly growing more comfortable in this shared place they've chosen in the universe, gradually starting to behave like they know they aren't alone in the world anymore, all while other things happen to and around them.

Nonsexual physical intimacy - a really great hug, or leaning together on the sofa, or a forehead touch, or something like those, something that could happen in a lot of different kinds of relationships but is undoubtedly based in deep trust and affection and a desire to be close...that's the dream, for me. Oh, how lovely it would be.

Of course, I could be just absolutely, embarrassingly wrong about all this. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

[bitchin-beskar]

no body, no crime

Rating: M

Warnings: murderrrrrrr. allusions to smut. but like... murderrrrr.  (Actual warnings: mentions of infidelity, light descriptions of torture, allusions to murder, vague mentions of smut)

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 

A/N: So, this story is based off the song, no body, no crime from T. Swift’s new album, evermore. I listened to it, and immediately knew it was perfect for the bastard man himself. (Also, this fic is entirely @perropascal‘s fault, if she hadn’t posted the absolutely amazing fic (fucked my way) to the top featuring the asshole himself, I would never have even thought about him, so... blame her ;)) I hope y’all like this! (I will probably write a companion piece for this with actual smut, but I wanted to stick with the lyrics of the song for this one, and it just didn’t fit in. Believe me, I tried.)

P.S. You all should check @perropascal out. she’s amazing and this story is dedicated to her beautiful self!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I’d love to hear what you guys think!!

“He’s cheating.”

You look over at your best friend, taking in her tired eyes and her slumped shoulders, the way that she desperately grips her glass of wine with two hands. She’s not been getting enough sleep, and its beginning to take it’s toll. 

“Did you catch him?”

You keep your voice soft, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself or Este. You’re at your regular table in the Olive Garden that you and Este have been going to since high school. Even though you’re in the back of the restaurant, and there aren’t any people at the nearby tables, Este looks like she’s about to break down, and you know she wouldn’t want an audience for that. 

“He’s coming home with stains around his lips. He says they’re from merlot, but I don’t believe him. And there’s jewelry purchases on our joint account, but it’s not mine.” 

She looks miserable, and you reach out, squeezing her hand tightly. You’d never liked Aaron, her husband. He always seemed a little off, a little too controlling and quick to anger, and your best friend deserved better dammit. 

“Do you have any ideas as to who he’s with?”

Este just shook her head miserably. “It’s probably someone from his work, but I have no idea who. No body, no crime, right?” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. 

Pushing your chair back, you stand up and move around to hug Este, pulling her into your arms and stroking her hair. She’s trembling like a leaf, and you wish you could take her pain away.

“I’ve gotta call him out,” she mutters into your shoulder. “I refuse to be the stupid housewife who pretends she doesn’t know just to save her marriage.”

You pull back slightly, a concerned look in your eyes. “I don’t trust him, Este. Be careful, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Este nods, drying her tears. “I’ll be careful. I have to do this though. There’s no doubt in my mind, I have to call him out.”

***

The next week, you knew something was wrong. Este hadn’t answered your texts all week, and she wasn’t there at Olive Garden for your weekly dinner. She’d never missed a dinner night, not once. You called her workplace, only to find out she’d been out all week. 

Near frantic, you drove to the police station, hoping that they might have information, or at the very least, you could file a missing person’s report. To your surprise, however, a report had already been filed. 

When you asked who had filed it and when, the answer shocked you. Aaron had filed the missing person’s report last Tuesday. 

The same Tuesday that Este had told you she was going to confront Aaron about his infidelity. 

You asked if there was any chance the report’s filing date could be off, but the officer assured you that it wasn’t. A one Aaron Stover had filed a missing person’s report on his wife on Tuesday night, mere hours after you and Este had parted ways. 

You left the police station, shaken to your core. Your mind was racing as you tried to come up with a reason for why Aaron would have reported Este missing so quickly after you’d last seen her. Unfortunately, you knew there was only one logical explanation. He’d reported her missing because he knew that she was going to be missing. You were driving on autopilot, and when you finally began to pay attention again, you realized where you were.

Sitting behind the wheel of your car, you were parked across the street from Aaron and Este’s house. His truck was in the driveway, and you noticed he had four brand new, shiny tires. As you were watching, another car drove up, and a gorgeous woman got out of the driver’s seat. She walked up to the front door, and walked right into the house. You frowned. 

You noticed sweet old Mrs. Cratchit was gardening outside, and you quickly got out to speak with her. Mrs. Cratchit was a notorious gossip, and if anyone had seen or heard anything, she was bound to know. 

“Hi, Mrs. Cratchit!” You forced a cheerful tone into your voice, despite the dread that weighed heavy in your heart. “How are you?”

She looked up from her flowerbed, grinning toothily as she saw you. “Hello sweetie! It’s been far too long! I’m doing just fine, thank you. How are you, dear?” She paused, a slight frown maring her wrinkled features. “How is Este, dear? Have you talked to her?” 

Mrs. Cratchit didn’t pause for you to answer, instead plowing on. “It’s just shameful, what that husband of hers is doing. Shameful, I say! Bringing his little side piece into their home. Apparently, she’s a secretary at the same company. It’s just shameful.” She shook her head. “I even heard that the little trollop is sleeping over, if you know what I mean.” She winked at you, and you forced a strangled laugh. “Anyways, is Este doing alright?”

You opened your mouth to tell Mrs. Cratchit the truth, but the words caught in your throat. You still couldn’t believe that your best friend was missing, you didn’t want to believe it. 

“Este’s fine, Mrs. Cratchit. I should probably go, though. It was good seeing you!” You forced the lie out of your mouth, giving the sweet, clueless old woman a kiss on the cheek before heading back to your car, your mind racing. 

So not only was Aaron cheating on Este, he’d done something to her, and, instead of even acting concerned, he’d decided to move his mistress into your best friend’s house. Hell, his mistress was sleeping in Este’s bed! 

Furious, you decided then and there that you were going to do something about it. You knew he did it, but you just couldn’t prove it, not in a court of law. So, you’d have to take matters into your own hands. 

***

Planning a murder was surprisingly simple.

Your daddy made you get a boating license when you were fifteen, and he was more than willing to lend you his thirty-eight foot, 2000 Cruisers 3870 Express for a weekend on the lake. 

Your aunt cleaned houses for a living, and all you had to do was ask, and she was all too willing to give you what you needed. 

Este’s sister was an orderly at a small, local hospital, and it was all too easy for her to slip a tiny vial of succinylcholine into her purse one day after her shift. 

And Aaron. 

Poor, foolish, unsuspecting Aaron.

You’d just had to “accidentally” run into him one day after work, bat your eyes and run your hands over his chest as you invited him over for lunch. Playing the facade of a concerned well-wisher, wanting to make sure your best friend’s husband was doing alright in this horrible time, was ridiculously easy. Dress a little too low cut, heels a little too high, lips a little too red, it was easy to catch his attention. 

You’re sure he thought he would be warming your bed after your “lunch” but you had other plans. 

***

You heard a thump behind you, and you turned, seeing Aaron blinking blearily up at you, terror in his eyes. You left the controls of the boat, turning and yanking the duct tape off of his mouth violently. He whimpered at the sting, and you smirked. 

“W–W–What are you doing?! Are you insane?! I could have you arrested for this–”

You stood up, kicking Aaron in the gut, and he groaned, curling up as best he could with his hands duct taped behind his back.

“You could,” you drawled, placing your hands on your hips as you looked down at him condescendingly. “But it’s a little hard to have me arrested when you’re dead, darling.”

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth and began screaming. You only laughed, waiting for him to run out of air. He finally had to stop, gasping for breath, at which point you knelt back down by his face, stroking his tear-stained cheek with one finger. 

“There’s one way you can get out of this alive Aaron. All you have to do is tell me one itty, bitty little thing. Think you can do that for me?”

He nodded frantically, terrified whimpers escaping from his throat as he tried to shuffle back from you, unsuccessfully. 

You patted his cheek sharply. “Good boy.” Gripping his chin, you jerked his face up so he was forced to look you in the eyes. “What did you do to Este?” 

At the look on Aaron’s face, you felt your heart sink. Aaron had never been good at keeping secrets, which is part of how Este had caught him cheating in the first place. The look on his face told you everything. Este was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. 

You quickly schooled your features. Though you were devastated, there was no way you were letting this bastard know that. He’d murdered your best friend in cold blood, all because he couldn’t stand the fact that he’d been caught cheating, and because he knew Este would leave him destitute when she took him to court. 

“Such a shame,” you tutted, voice dripping with venom. “I was really hoping you’d have a different answer for me.” 

Aaron immediately began to squirm, begging, pleading with you, trying to get you to spare his life. His pathetic whimpers had no effect, and you delivered another satisfying kick to his gut before turning and grabbing the bag holding the heavy cinder blocks and the padlock and chains. 

His eyes widened when he watched you pull out the chains and the cinder blocks, and you chuckled lowly. 

***

The police had questioned you, of course, but Este’s sister swore up and down that you were with her, so you were quickly eliminated as a suspect in Aaron’s disappearance. 

Jessica, Aaron’s mistress, wasn’t so lucky. She’d taken out a two million dollar life insurance policy on him, the stupid woman, which immediately made her the prime suspect. Apparently, she was also being looked at as a suspect in Este’s disappearance as well.

The news was making her out to be some kind of black widow, ruthlessly taking out anyone in her way to fame, glory, and riches. Honestly, they were laying it on a bit thick, but as long as they were focused on her and not you, it didn’t matter. 

But the cherry on the sundae was when your firm was hired by corporate executives from the company Jessica worked for, to conduct an investigation into both her and Aaron. Apparently, Aaron had been working on a rather sensitive project for the company, and now with his disappearance and the suspicion resting on Jessica, their company wanted to make sure that none of their projects would be compromised. 

Jessica was the reason your best friend was dead. You were going to make her life hell.

***

“Mr. Lord? There’s a young woman from that firm corporate hired here to see you.”

Maxwell looked up to see Cherrie standing in the doorway, and he took a moment to appreciate how her skirt made her legs look fantastic. She flushed prettily under his gaze, like always. 

“Thanks, babes, send her on in.” 

Max settled back into his chair, steepling his fingers as he waited for you to arrive. He’d been shocked when the bosses had told him one of his secretaries was the subject of a police investigation into the disappearance of another of his employees, Aaron. 

He’d also been shocked, and more than a little angry to find out that apparently, Jessica was sleeping with Aaron. One of his employees, sleeping with his secretary? It pissed him off, and if Aaron wasn’t already missing, he’d be tempted to kill the man. 

As he watched a gorgeous young woman step into his office, briefcase in hand and a smirk on her face, he felt his own smirk grow. He had a feeling things were going to get interesting.

***

You woke slowly, the faint sensation of touch ghosting across your bare back sending tingles down your spine. You smiled sleepily, sighing when a pair of lips pressed against your bare shoulder.

“Did I wake you, gorgeous?”

Rolling over, you looked at the man who lay propped up beside you, his blonde hair falling mused over his forehead. You’re both naked under the sheets, skin sweaty from the hours spent pressed into the mattress, against the wall, on the desk, and even the floor. 

“I should probably be getting up anyways, Max. I’ve gotta present my findings to the board on Jessica.”

Max chuckled, his hand tracing over your bare flesh, stroking the side of your breast, the gold of his rings cool against your skin. “Ah yes, the findings that prove her guilt in a corporate espionage scheme, those findings?”

You giggled, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer to you, your lips ghosting over his. “It’s like I told you, darling. I’m not letting up until the day she dies.”

Permanent Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @perropascal, @mxndoscyarika, @hayley-the-comet, @phoenixhalliwell, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @pedroepascal, @roxypeanut, @rynadjarin-reading, @anerdydragon, @justanotherblonde23, @rosiefridayrogersunday, @meshlamando, @sunsetmando, @bucketbunny, @mudhornchronicles, @huliabitch, @nerdypinupcrystal, @blackmarketmummy, @dinsbeskar, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @randomness501, @bisexual-space-slut

Maxwell Lord Tags: @bucketbunny, @nerdypinupcrystal, @chibi-liz05, @blackmarketmummy, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @agentshortstacc

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my works, please fill out this quick survey!!

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH3 - Entrapment

18+ Only! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

CH1

CH2

!!TW!! mentions of abuse, trauma, blood

Above are the links to the first two chapters, but for those that just want to get to it, I will briefly summarize. The main character here(who I choose to keep very nondescript so anyone can enjoy this, that may change as things get more physical between them and our hero. I will continue using they/them pronouns for this, but I have lady parts and will probably end up using those words.) is a villain that has just stolen information, fought Aizawa and made an escape to a roof where they fought with a member of their crew and Maybe(?) probably killed them.

Thank you for reading! 

Enjoy! x

~

Sirens blare behind me as cops start to arrive at the scene. I pull the hood on my jacket up over my head and dip around the corner. I hadn’t tried to stick around long enough for them to show up, but left without a quick way off the roof after tossing that damn bat off the side, I had to take the stairs. It was a long way down, but the stairwell was entirely connected all the way to the ground floor, I would have been seriously pissed off if I had to find multiple sets of stairs. My face is mostly obscured by my hood, but I look down everytime a random citizen passes by. I can never be too careful about being seen. 

I reach into my pocket and feel for my marble, my anxiety is rising quickly as a group of four teen girls walks towards me on the sidewalk. I almost freak out when my pocket turns up empty, but then I remember that I threw it, that it’s the only reason I’m still walking free. This brings me slight peace before I hear giggling and sneer to myself. High schoolers. I look at their uniforms, even better, hero students. I pull the drawstrings on my hood and it scrunches around my face, hiding me further. Anonymity isn’t the only reason I prefer not to be seen, but it’s the most self preserving reason, the one that makes the most sense. The other is because I’m afraid. Afraid of what they could say, of what they could think. I’ve heard it all, but it never fails to sting a little when the unfiltered truth of others thoughts wash over me. 

Weirdo. What. A. Freak.

OMG what are they wearing?

Damn, why do I always have to walk on the outside? Don’t you all care at all if I get grabbed?

Please don’t rob us, please don’t rob us.

Look away. Just look away.

I pull the drawstrings tighter and walk slightly faster, trying to push their thoughts from my brain, but failing grandly as all I can focus on is how much I don’t fit in, how little the rest of the world cares for people that don’t fit in the cookie cutter mold of societal expectations. The girls are having a light hearted conversation amongst themselves as I pass by, a complete confliction to the sour, curdled thoughts that had just slipped out. My eyes are glued to my feet as I take one step after the other, my legs feel like lead as I fight the urge to scream at them and silence their brain functions. I’m so focused on getting myself away from those girls that I barely register the man walking in front of me, talking loudly on the phone. I thump into his back, my eyes still strained down at the tips of my boots. He looks down at me, surprised. I can feel his eyes on me, feel the shock as his words falter into the phone mic. 

Woah. All black, huh? 

Trying to avoid a conflict, I duck to the side and mutter a curt ‘sorry’ below my breath, already shuffling off. He reaches out to me though, reaching for my shoulder. “Hey, wait. Sorry to bump into y-” 

I jerk away without looking. “Don’t touch me… please.” I cough the pleasantry out, it’s hard to hold myself back when all I want to do is swear at him and rip his eyes from his skull, knowing full well this is only a minor inconvenience, not a stopping block for me. I slightly turn my head, looking up at him out of one eye, he looks down at me, stunned. 

Wait… Is this the one?

Who is this man? He looks slightly familiar, but I can’t quite place him. He’s got long blonde hair, pulled into a simple ponytail and a goatee that makes him look like he still thinks the year is 2008. My eyes fall back to my feet as I take quick paces away from him. I don’t know him, but it seems like he might know me, which is definitely a bad sign. My anxiety swells again as I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. This really can’t be good. I can still feel him watching me as I retreat, but his focus shifts back to his phone as someone yells on the other end of the receiver. “Yah, yah! I’m right around the corner. Get off my back, Shouta… I said I’m right around the corner! … No! I’m not in ‘uniform’, it’s my day off!” I let my anxiety roll off my shoulders as I get farther away from him and can no longer hear his shouting. I’m not sure why he threw me off so much, but I’m happy to be crossing the street and leaving his line of vision, turning an extra corner, just to be safe. I can’t afford anyone following me right now.

I’m still a bit rattled as I step down the stairs to the underground train tunnels. The tunnels are old, abandoned years ago after a train derailed and collapsed several tunnels. There were so many casualties, they shut down the entire train system after that, but by then technology had become so advanced compared to the subway that they didn’t even bother rebuilding. The city just closed off the tunnel entrances to the public. Citizens and tourists still come down to the platforms to take pictures and read plaques about the deceased. It’s ridiculous really. They didn’t know any of the people that died, had no connection to them, they would have no clue about the lives lost here if it hadn’t been all over the news. What the news wouldn’t tell the unsuspecting audience of sheep, is that it was actually a hero that crashed the train. The media told the world that a minor earthquake had derailed the train, which was only partially true. A minor earthquake had caused the crash, but a hero had caused the earthquake. A hero was the direct cause of so many shortened lives, innocent and corrupt alike, all dead within seconds. The media just swept that under the rug, not a single news coverage even mentioned his name as they described the tragedy. He continued his hero work as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t murdered the very people he vowed to protect, as if he wasn’t the sole reason those people died. My sister was among those lost. She wasn’t my only family, but the only one I liked, the only one that made life even bearable. A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away in frustration, no time for emotions. No time for tears. No time to let myself wallow, because I know once I start on that path, I’ll never stop. I’ll cry until I can’t breathe, until my eyes are swollen shut, until my lungs give out. So I cut myself short. No tears.

The platform is empty when I reach the tracks, the silence echoing. This is the only place I’m free of everyone else’s trilling thoughts buzzing in my brain, the thick concrete walls jamming their signal from getting to me. I release a long awaited sigh, the anxiety finally subsiding and leaving a slight hunger in my stomach. I had been so worked up I forgot to get food. I pull the hood off my head and hop down onto the tracks, walking them like a balance beam, a habit I picked up in my free time. At this point, I don't even put my hands out at my sides. I’ve done this so much, I’m sure I could walk it with my eyes closed. I do close my eyes, basking in the complete silence that surrounds me. Silence that reminds me of the moments I was fighting Eraser Head, the moments where he took my quirk and my head was actually empty. Even now it’s not quite like that, there’s still a ringing in my ears and a hum in the back of my head like static over a radio channel. It’s never been completely quiet inside my head, it only ever fades to background noise, not like when I was with him, when he was staring at me so intensely. I know it’s because he couldn’t look away, because of his quirk, but part of it made me feel… wanted. No one has ever looked at me like that, with such incredible intensity in their eyes. I shake my head, feeling crazier than usual. There’s no way he could want me, no way that I’m not just pushing my own desires onto his actions, no way that I’m not just famished for someone to hold me in their arms like he had held me in his scarf. 

Now I know I’m acting foolish. His scarf? Really? He was attacking me, he was fighting me, he’s a hero goddammit. I should be hating him and working up ways to bring his demise, but instead I’m thinking about what it would be like to see him without his hostility, to watch his face as he slept, to see tears trail down his face, to see him begging on his knees. I want to see his vulnerability, surprisingly, without any intention of exploiting it. I just want to see him. I have to see him. I look down and realize I’m pacing. I shake myself again and head for a service tunnel that I’ve commandeered to become my little hideout. It’s really not much, but it’s all mine and 100% off the grid. Maintenance personnel don't even come down here. I’m completely alone and I love it. No prying eyes, no unwanted thoughts, just me and the cold concrete. It’s heavenly. 

I moved down here full time a few months after my sister died and it became clear that no one was fixing up the tunnels. My biological carrier, the woman I refuse to call my mother, had begun drinking immediately. Not that she was a stranger to alcohol before, but it had only gotten worse. Her drunk thoughts quickly became her sober thoughts and all of them had to do with me. Why my sister had died instead of me, why she was the one that had to be stuck with me, why she had to have been cursed with such a freakish child. One that cried all the time, one that split her head in two when they had a tantrum, one that couldn't even be put into daycare to protect the other children, one that put her husband in a vegetative state. I became nothing more than a burden to her, if there was any part of her that still loved me, loved me like a mother is supposed to, it was buried deeper in her mind than even I could find. 

The mental abuse wasn’t what broke me though, the neglect hadn’t done it either. It was the night she made me beg. She had drunk so much that I felt drunk, felt drunk off the vertigo thoughts she was pulsing out into the room. She stumbled into my room, slurring speech and telling me how ungrateful I was to have someone like her that would take such good care of me. I should have known better, should have been quiet like usual, but I scoffed at that. The wench barely even knew how to take care of herself, the notion honestly tickled me. That did her in. She lunged at me and threw me to the floor, smacking me in the face once on both cheeks. She rolled off of me and left the room as drunkenly as she had come in. I just layed there and cried, hoping she was done, but knowing she wasn’t. I heard the door creak and felt her grab me by the hair, shoving me into a dining chair. The confusion must have been evident on my face, because she hit me again and made quick work of tying me to the wooden chair. She left me there, tied up, for days. She made me beg for food. Beg for water. Beg to be cleaned after I had pissed myself. She made me apologize for everything I had ever done. She made me admit I was a monster, one that hurt people for fun, because I wanted to, not because I couldn’t control my quirk. I can see now how that narrative would be easier for her to stomach, having a person to blame instead of accepting the shitty facts of reality, but I was her child. I had been pure. She was supposed to love me, protect me.

I stop walking, letting my renewed hatred for that woman settle on my shoulders like a warm, heavy blanket. Resolve hardening my heart and warping the soft emotions I had just been there. I heave a sigh and reach into my jacket pocket again, feeling the flashdrive from before. This is what I need. File upon file of precious documents and information right here in the palm of my hand, information that now exists nowhere else. 

I start walking again, exhausted from today's events. There had been so many close calls. I’m still reeling from a couple of them, my head still not on fully straight. I make it to my little pad and flop down on the mattress I have tucked away in the corner. I unzip my boots and massage my feet a little, pulling them into my lap to sit lotus style. My laptop had been haphazardly tossed into my bed, so I reach over and plug it into the charging cable snaking from the wall, also pushing the little flashdrive into the side port and letting all the documents download. I curl into a ball on my mattress and flop to the side, I’m so tired and so hungry, I’m not sure what to do. I have no food here so I'm going to  have to go back up to the surface level, but it’s still too light out, I’ll wait until the sun has fully set then go stop by a street vendor. In the meantime however, I treat myself to a nap. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyes were until my head hit the soft material of my bed. 

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but I wake up to my computer beeping. The download is complete. I smile to myself and close the laptop, removing the flashdrive from the side, again not bothering to eject it. I push myself up into a sitting position and rub my hands over my entire face and into my hair, fully waking myself up some more. I look down at myself, still in my full clothes and sigh, I guess I had been far more tired than I thought. My mind drifts to the dream I was having before my eyes had peeled back open. I only really dream when I sleep hard, which isn’t often since I’ve basically ruined my REM cycles. In my dream, I was with Eraser Head again, but this time we weren’t fighting, not really. He still had me caught in that damn capture weapon, but I was completely naked, my body exposed at all the right points for him to reach out and grab me, hit me, bite me. The memory of how his scarf felt against my skin heats up my face, my body clenching tightly. How does he still do this to me? He’s not even near me. 

I run a hand down my neck, trying to calm myself. I can’t get all riled up because of some hero. Can I? Another flash from my dream breaks through to the forefront of my mind. Eraser Head has me by the jaw, his mouth so close to mine I would be able to feel his breath on my lip if it had been real. That’s when he sensually licks my plush bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down softly, just enough to drive me crazy. Just enough for me to want more, to feel it in real life. I yell and pound my fist into the mattress. GET!! IT!! TOGETHER!! I launch myself onto my feet, tugging on my boots, determined to get his imagined ministrations out of my mind. I still need to eat anyway. The hunger tugging on my stomach and making it growl loudly, protesting the nap that had zapped away the rest of my evening. I look at my watch and groan, it's already past 9pm. 

I head back down the service tunnel that leads to my little crash pad, there’s a small, unpopular ramen stand I like to go to when it’s late. It's not the best bowl of ramen in the world, but it gets the job done and I’m not too picky when it comes to noodles in warm broth. The stand is right outside one of the stairwells into the underground platforms. The lights from the neon sign flicker dimly, it reads ‘OPEN to Business’. I slink down onto one of the stools and drop my money onto the counter, ordering a beef bowl. The man on the other side of the counter pours the broth and cuts vegetables before serving me the bowl with a small bow of his head. I return his formality before delving into the bowl. The soup smells better than usual, or maybe I’m just insanely hungry, either way the first bite leaves me melting into the bowl, hunched over, consuming the food at such a rate it would appear as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I hit the bottom of the white bowl in record time and slam down a few coins demanding more. The chef raises his eyebrow, but complies, almost over filling another bowl for me.

Hungry, ha? Good! Eat more!

I smile at him, actually warmed by his slight kindness, but it is soon forgotten as I begin slurping down noodles, beef, and cooked vegetables. I finish the second bowl almost as quickly as the first and slouch back, patting my very full belly. I was definitely hungrier than I realized. I sigh, content and sluggish as I slide off the side of the stool. I can’t help the light feeling in my chest as I shove my hands into my pockets. The moon is high in the sky and the night air is cool on my cheeks, it’s almost serene. I decide to take a little stroll, there’s another entrance to the platform a few blocks down, connecting to the other side of the service tunnel. I start my walk with casual steps, I’m not in a rush and I just want to breathe in the fresh air a little bit longer. There’s an empty orange soda can on the ground and I kick it with the inside of my foot, sending it skittering forward a few paces, stopping in a perfect place for me to kick it again. I continue kicking the can along with me as I walk, until I kick it a little too hard and it goes tumbling down into a storm drain. I shrug and round a corner, the can just a distraction anyways, something to fiddle with. I reach into my pocket and forget again that my marble isn't there. A prickle of nerves climbs up my arm and to the back of my neck, making my hair follicles stand on end. 

Suddenly alert, I tense my shoulders and scan the area, looking above me as well this time, I won’t be taken out from the rooftops again, but still I see nothing. The air around me has shifted. It’s no longer peaceful and delicate, it’s eerie and cold, sending a shiver through me again, the anxiety making me even more jumpy as I hear little sounds around me. Nothing out of the ordinary, city sounds, but it all gets to me, sending my heart rate in an upward spike. I start to run, unsure of where to go. I can feel someone, but where? It’s driving me crazy. I know there’s someone. I know it, but the absolute lack of a presence is what’s really fucking me up. An ubiquitous white flash darts out at me from the dark. I dodge quickly, leaning back so far my head barely misses slamming into the concrete below me. There’s another flash and I throw my legs out from underneath me, catching myself in a near handstand before flinging myself backwards again, still unsure of where the flashes are coming from. 

Before I can land back on my feet, I see it, a dark figure blur by me from the corner of my eye. I don’t know what or who it is, but my first instinct is to whip around and try to use my quirk, still only barely sure of the figure’s location. When I spin around, I’m immediately bombarded by two sensations. First, is the clarity in my brain that only comes when Eraser Head is muting my quirk. The second, is the heat that grows in my stomach when I realize exactly who I’m up against. My chest flushes, and my thoughts flash back to my dream, the way he had halfway kissed me. That’s all the distraction he needs to scoop me up in his capture weapon and have me dangling upside down from the nearest street pole. 

Seeing him from this angle is different as the blood starts to rush to my head, making me feel dizzy. I thrash around a little, to no avail, before allowing myself to give up, feeling too sluggish from my meal anyways. Even if I manage to get out of this coil I could barely expect to actually get away. Eraser Head slowly saunters up to my upside down body, rocking from side to side, he looks menacing and my body clenches tight again. Gezzus fuck, this man is hot. “You wanted to see me again. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He pulls the goggles covering his eyes up unto his forehead and I can see his whole face. There’s a scar underneath his eye that I hadn’t seen before, it marks his skin beautifully and I can’t help but imagine what he looked like with the fresh wound, blood running down his face. I bet it was gorgeous. He’s a striking figure on his own, but covered in blood? I gulp heavily, the downward gravity making it hard. Eraser bends his knees, squatting down so we’re on an even eye level, his are still glowing red and I’m reeling from the proximity. He’s so close. He’s right there. I could reach out and grab him if my arms weren’t strung up to my sides. 

I can’t touch him, but he’s still close enough for me to throw my head back, letting the momentum force me back down to collide my skull with his. I hear a crunch and feel warm blood trickle up my face from my nose, it's in my mouth too. Eraser stumbles back, not prepared for a headbutt. It’s true what they say, no one wins in a headbutt, but it feels like a win as I see a small trail of blood coming from his forehead, it’s so much hotter that it’s my blood. He looks even better than I had imagined, of course he does. My skull is pulsing already and my quirk is returned to me as he tries to steady himself. He does, quicker than I had hoped. My head is still splitting and I don't have enough time to regain myself before he’s taking my quirk again. Damn, he’s good. I chuckle to myself, licking the blood from my lips. This is actually kind of fun. Eraser Head looks down at me again, gripping my hair tightly now to keep me from moving again. His eyes are wild, his jaw tight. It’s taking all of him not to beat the living shit out of me. I can tell. 

Then his expression changes and he looks mischievous, teasing even. The slight confusion I have is short lived before he yanks my head forward, my neck craned at an awkward angle to look directly up at him. “My turn.” He says, dropping my head so I’m swinging back and forth again, only able to see him every couple seconds. He takes a step back and I see him poise himself for a second, spinning into a roundhouse kick that connects with my temple and knocks me out cold.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

THINGS ARE DEF GONNA START HEATING UP FROM HERE!!!! stay tuned hehe XD