share worthy

Next To Her ;; Tom Holland

A/N: this is short and i’m v tired. tell me what you think!

summary: tom wakes up next to reader and admires her beauty

warnings: none but extreme fluff and some mentions of sex


There was something about how she looked whenever the sun decided to come up and peek through the sheer curtains. It had him mesmerized every time, laying next to her angelic presence, he didn’t feel worthy of sharing the covers with her. Her hair, long over due for a hair appointment, was fanned out looking like a halo. The teeny fly away hairs framed her face as if it were art. A peaceful look was set upon her features, like she was posed to look this way.

Little sun freckles, that were starting to grow dim, sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and cheeks’ fading tan skin. He could stare and count them all if he wanted to, and, oh, how he wanted to. But he’d become too cross eyed sooner or later, wanting to study her beauty. Then he’d look down at her lips, they were chapped and swollen from being bitten so often, usually because she was always thinking and that helped her concentrate. The pair of lips were just barely opened, allowing little puffs of air in and out between them.

The sun rose higher, allowing rays to touch the covers of their shared bed. The warmth danced up her arms to her bare shoulders. Her skin was tanned, but the sun helped highlight the fading purple marks left over from their moments so early in the morning that time ceased to exist.

The corners of his lips moved upwards, but just barely, forming the tiniest smile. Observing the marks on her collarbones, he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath hitting her arm. Goosebumps raise in the cool airs wake and his tiny smirk grows a centimeter wider. Grabbing the top of the comforter in his hand, he moves it above her shoulders and sinks down next her.

Pretending to be half awake, he lazily wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into his chest. She cuddles in towards the familiar feeling of safeness and warmth next to Tom. His hand finds its spot on the small of her back while the other one plays with the ends of her pretty, tangled hair.

“Pretty girl.” He’d whisper under breath, her head resting right below his chin.

Her eyelids flutter open to the familiar sound of his soft voice. He watches her eyes adjust to the light, they peer up at him, a sleepy smile washing across her face. She squints due to the bright, rising sun brings a hand up to his face to cup his cheek along his jawline. Tom leans into her touch, his look warm as they gaze upon each other.

Bare chested, thin sheets being the only shelter from the brisk morning air. She slowly scoots up to where they are face to face, her hands set down on his pecs. She admires how he looks below her as she straddles his torso. She had never gotten this good of a look at him with one leg on either side of his waist. Usually, their faces were so close they didn’t really pay attention to anything but each other’s lips.

His hair light, because of their summer adventuring, stuck up in every direction. She still thought he look cute. The stubble along his lip and jaw didn’t both her as she traced her finger along the short, rough hairs. He closes his eyes in bliss as her fingers find their way into his hair and massage his scalp gently.

“You look so handsome from above, Tom.” She chuckles, shifting back and forth, smiling down at the attractive boy beneath her.

“I think I have the best view, darling.” He winks at her, resting his hands on her hips and his eyes flask from her breasts to her eyes.

She sqeauls, jumping off of him and throwing on one of his flannels laying around on the floor, “How cheeky.”

She buttons them, struggling because the buttons were on the left. He laughs sitting up and kicking the covers off his legs. Standing, he stretches before walking towards her and taking the flannel in his hands. He stops her buttoning half way up and buttons it up the rest of the way. He leaves some undone, claiming that this way gives him “a better view”.

With a roll of her eyes, she reaches up and cups both sides of his face in her hands and kisses his lips sweetly. He kisses back, wondering how lucky he was to wake up next to her.


Hi everyone! 

First of all, I just wanted to thank y'all for all the love on the last tutorial I posted -I’m glad people found it worthy of sharing and reading. I wanted to make this one more in-depth. I don’t think I would call this a “tutorial” to achieve something specific, but a look into the thought process that goes on regarding environments, storytelling and execution. Hopefully you can relate it to your own thought processes you currently have.

Have a good one, guys! If you got questions, do ask ‘em. :)

(Also. I know I’ve been quiet in posting new art lately. A lot of the art I can’t show yet but there is cool stuff on the way.) 

{  Finished piece -original post: Bright Autumn  }


Because of Jesus I am:
• forgiven
• loved
• important
• redeemed
• worthy
• chosen
• thought about
• set apart
• learning
• given multiple chances
• welcome
• blessed
• heard
• advocated for
• rescued
• safe
• strong
• wise
• royalty
• loving
• understanding
• gentle
• soft
• Gods

It was in the way you...

Aries: Smiled at me, it made me feel so warm, as if the life sucked out of me was kissed back into my heart

Taurus: Kept your promises, how you held onto them no matter how much it hurt you

Gemini: Would widen your eyes, indicating to me that your mind was producing thoughts I would never have the blessing to know 

Cancer: Held back those tears, as if telling me that I wasn’t worthy to share the pain I told you I could help carry 

Leo: Laughed, because even after it all ended, I still didn’t know if you laughed with me or at me

Virgo: Slowly opened up to me, like waiting for a flower to bloom, shy and hesitant and hopelessly unaware of the beauty it held 

Libra: Held my hand, giving me an illusion that maybe I wasn’t alone in the world, giving me an illusion that was as sweet as it was short

Scorpio: Had a hold on me, because when you were away you were still here, when I couldn’t see you I could still feel your breath sliding down my neck 

Sagittarius: Would ask questions, in your insatiable desire to know more about everything, to lose the fear of living in oblivion 

Capricorn: Kept your composure, how you tried so desperately to appear like a castle to distract from the fact that your inner walls were crumbling 

Aquarius: Broke my heart, so silently, so slowly, draining away my self-esteem so it could feed yours

Pisces: Would hug me, our hearts touching, I had never felt such unimaginable joy, and an incomprehensible sadness at the thought of letting go 

All I want is one person who loves me more than anyone else. I want to be a first choice–maybe for a significant other, maybe for a close friend… I just really, really need that.
—  Posted by Anonymous
Just How I Like It

Author: smutandahalf

Characters: Reader x Stiles x Isaac


Word Count: 2,768

Originally posted by m-atilda

           I glance up at her, scribbling in her notebook, and her tongue is peeking out of the corner of her mouth slightly.

           Isaac comes up behind her, whispering something in her ear and she looks startled. She jumps in her chair, slamming her notebook closed before shoving it away from her slightly.      

           “So what have you found so far?” He asks me and I look up quickly.

           “Nothing. I’ve found nothing, absolutely nothing.” I grumble in irritation while tugging at my hair in frustration. “What about you, Y/N? Did you find anything useful? You’ve been writing in your notebook non-stop for like an hour.”

           “Oh, just a few things, possible ideas. Nothing too useful yet, definitely nothing share worthy.” She say quickly, inching her fingers towards her notebook that’s made its way closer to my side of the table. “Anyways, I just remembered that my mom needed me to go run some errands while she’s at work so I’m just going to go.”

           She grabs the notebook quickly and stuff it into her backpack before swinging the bag over her shoulder and leave the library before I even have time to say goodbye.

           “Well, someone seems a little jumpy.” Isaac remarks, raising an eyebrow at her empty seat and I shrug, pulling my notebook towards me. “Alright well Scott and I are going to go and see if we can catch the Alpha pack’s scent so I’ll catch you later.” He adds, getting up from his seat, and I nod at him in farewell.

           I flip the notebook open and am greeted with Y/N’s neat handwriting. My eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering if maybe she added some things into my notebook to combine out notes together.

           He slides a finger into her, his thumb rubbing against her clit and she throws her head back. “Fuck, right there Stiles,” She says, moaning in satisfaction.

           I scan along the page, reading a few sentences here and there and my face flushes immediately when I see my name, and my dick tightens in response.

           Holy shit. I think to myself when I realize what I was holding in my hand. Y/N hadn’t been doing research for the past hour, she’d been writing smut. My eyes scan down along the page again, reading a bit more and I shift in my seat; very, very detailed smut. I take a shaky breath before shoving everything into my backpack and rushing out of the library to my car, anxious to head home and read the rest of the holy grail that I’ve stumbled on.


           I search through my backpack frantically, dumping everything out on to the floor desperately looking for my notebook. Finally I find it, flipping it open and all I see if a messy scrawl scribbled all over the pages. A sense of panic surges through me as I stare at the endless notes on possible leads and various supernatural creatures that could be in Beacon Hills. I bite my lip, trying to breathe in slowly, desperately trying to contain my freak out. This is Stiles’ notebook, and if I have his notebook then that means that he more than likely has mine and I hope to God he hasn’t opened it yet.

           I grab my keys off of my desk and run down the stairs of my house. I’m out the front door and in the driver’s seat of my car within a minute. I pull out of the driveway and make my way to Stiles’ as quickly as possible. I pull up in front of his house, jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind me.

           I’m panting slightly when I get to the front door, banging against the wood loudly. I tap my foot anxiously, waiting for Stiles to open the door. Finally, the door budges and I see Stiles staring back at me in surprise.


           “I have your notebook, figured you might need it.” I say quickly, holding it up to show him and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

           “Come on in.” He turns away from the door and I hurry in behind him, turning to close the door.

           “Right so you probably didn’t even notice you had the wrong notebook,” I start to say as the door clicks shut and he presses up against me, pushing my chest tightly against the door. His hands smoothing over my hips as he moves my hair away from my neck and presses a few soft kisses to the skin there and I feel like I’m going to melt. “Stiles, what are you doing?” I ask breathlessly and it comes out in a soft moan and my head falls back against his shoulder.

           “Nothing,” He whispers against me, his tongue tracing patterns against my skin before tugging my earlobe in between his teeth. “Just let it happen.”

           I try to convince myself to pull away from him, to stop this and find out why he’s doing this, but all I can think about is how good his hands feel against my body. He slides his hands up, cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently and I let out a mewl of pleasure. I can feel him harden as he presses roughly against me, his erection digging into my hip before he turns me around to face him.

           I look at his face, searching for answers but all I can see are his eyes dark with lust; staring back at me as if he had been wandering the desert and I was the only thing that could quench his thirst.

           His hips press against mine as he leans towards me, pausing for a moment just millimeters from my lips, flicking his gaze up to meet mine as if to see if I’m going to stop his and I bite my lip unintentionally. A look of pure lust washes over his face and a low growl escapes from this back of his throat before he slams his lips against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he grabs the back of my thighs, lifting me up as if I weight nothing. I lock my legs around his waist and he keeps me pressed tightly against the wall, pinning me there.

           He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth, sucking on it and I moan against his lips. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, battling against mine before exploring the inside of my mouth as if he wants to taste every inch of me. My hands make there way from the nape of his neck into his hair and I fist my hands into his messy brown hair, causing him to groan in appreciation.

           He holds onto me tightly, walking us up the stairs, his lips never disconnecting from mine. When we get up to the second floor he makes his way across the hall, kicking the door to him room open. He drops me onto his bed and I lie there panting slightly.

           “Stiles,” I whisper, still trying to catch my breath and his lips are on mine again, silencing me. His begins kissing along my jaw and down my neck and I tilt my head to allow him better access. “We need to talk about this.” I say, barely able to get the words out before I moan again.

           “No we don’t,” He mumbles against me, “Think about it later.”

           He continues kissing down my neck, pulling down the collar of my t-shirt before planting a few soft kisses along my clavicles, and tracing his tongue along where the bone is visible. His hands slip under my t-shirt, his warm hands caressing up my stomach before he tugs it over my head.

           Once my shirt is off he looks at me in awe, my bra pushing up my breasts making them swell, and he begins tracing his thumbs over the simple black lace. He nips gently at the newly exposed skin, sliding his tongue down along the valley of my breasts and I whimper. I arch my back and his hands reach around me to unclasp my bra and pull it off of me.

           “Holy shit, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He groans and I can feel a blush coloring my face. He presses his hands against my chest, kneeding my breasts and I can feel my nipples harden under his hands. He takes a hardened peak into his mouth, sucking on it and I moan, dragging my hand through his hair before pressing his face tightly against me. “You’re tits are fucking perfect.” He rasps, his voice thick with lust as he takes my other nipple in his mouth and all I can do is moan in response.

           “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He moans, trailing open mouth kisses down my stomach and I whimper. In one smooth motion he’s pulled my skirt and panties down, leaving me bare to him. I shiver as the cold air hits my core where wetness is quickly pooling.

           He sucks roughly against my hip, leaving a dark purple mark before repeating the same action on the other side. His lips work over the inside of my thighs and I squirm in anticipation of him getting to where I need him most. Slowly, his mouth moves nearer and nearer to my core.

           “Stiles, please,” I plead, my need for him mixing with desperation.

           “What’s wrong baby girl?” He breathes against me and I shudder at the feeling of his hot breath against my center. “Tell me what you need.”

           “Anything,” I whimper, begging him, “Please just do anything.”

           He sticks his tongue out, licking slowly along my slit from my core to my clit and I shudder against him. He continues sliding his tongue along me languidly, as if he has all the time in the world and it feels like complete torture. I buck my hips against him, desperate for more, and he uses his hands to hold my thighs down as he continues his sweet torture.

           He swirls his tongue around my bundle of nerves and I let out a loud gasp, my head lurching forward as my back arches off of the bed. “You taste so fucking sweet,” He mumbles against my core, sending vibrations shooting through me and I writhe against him. He slides a finger into me, keeping rhythm with his tongue and my eyes roll back into my head at the sensation.

           “Won’t you make some more of those pretty noises I love so much, baby girl?” He asks, curling his fingers inside of me to hit that perfect spot and I let out a loud moan. He pulls his fingers out of me, reaching them out to my lips, offering to me and I open my mouth slightly. He slips his fingers into my mouth and I slide my tongue around them, sucking against his fingers and he looks at me, his mouth slightly wide.

           “Holy fuck that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, returning his mouth to my core and I wrap my legs around his head. He continues licking, sucking, and flicking his tongue over me, making it impossible for me to contain my moans when he pulls away from me suddenly and I whimper at the loss of contact.

           He pulls me towards him, pressing his lips to mine, slipping his tongue inside of my mouth and I can taste myself on him. I capture his tongue with my lips and suck on it, making him moan against my mouth. His moan triggers something in me and I tear his clothes off of him. His shirt goes flying across the room as I tug at his pants and boxers, throwing them to the floor once they’re off of him.

           His erection springs up proudly and my eyes widen slightly. I grasp his length in my hands and lets out a sharp intake of breath. I lick a stripe up along the underside of his cock before swirling my tongue around his tip and he moans, his eyes fluttering closed. I take him into my mouth, sliding him all the way to the back of my throat and he thrusts hard against my mouth. I bob my head against him, hollowing out my cheeks and I slide him in and out of my throat, pressing my tongue along a prominent veins and he shudders.

           “Your mouth feels so good, baby girl,” He groans and I moan at the nickname. The sound sends vibrations shuddering through him and he bucks his hips against me. I pull him out of my mouth slowly, sliding my hand up and down his length, pumping his firmly before taking his length back fully into my mouth. “I’m going to come,” He pants and I can feel him twitching in my mouth before a warm liquid trickles into the back of my throat and he throws his head back as his orgasm crashes over him. I slide my tongue along him, licking ever drop of his release before pulling him out of my mouth with a pop.

           “Fuck, I knew you had a wicked mouth but I didn’t realize you could do that,” He pants and I smirk at him. He pulls me towards him, flipping us so that I’m underneath him. “Don’t worry baby girl, I’m going to take good care of you.” He whispers against the shell of my ear, pumping his cock a few times before lining himself up with my entrance.

           He slides into me, slowly, and I moan loudly. “You’re so fucking tight.” He breathes out in a pant as he slides out of me and back in and I whimper.

           “Fuck, Stiles, I need you.” I say, wrapping my legs around his hips and he begins pounding into me. I lift my hips up in rhythm to his thrusts, making it to where he hits that perfect spot deep within me every time and I drag my nails roughly down his back. He holds onto the headboard tightly with one hand, the leverage allowing him to thrust even more deeply into me.

           I can feel the pressure building inside of me, a fine sheen of sweat lining his forehead as he continue to slam into me. I look up at him through half lidded eyes, and he flips us again so that I’m straddling him. I roll my hips against him, riding him quickly and he one hand against my breast while the other hand is quickly rubbing against my clit, quickly bringing me closer and closer to my release.

           “F-fuck, yes, just like that, Stiles,” I moan, my voice coming out raspy and he leans up slightly to replace the hand on my breast with his mouth. He sucks on my nipple roughly as he applies more pressure to my bundle of nerves and all at once my orgasm slams into me. I clench around him, throwing my head back and screaming his name repeatedly, as he continues to thrust into me to prolong my orgasm. My orgasm pushes him over the edge and I can feel him twitch inside me as he begins to pulsate. His eyes close tightly as he comes undone underneath me, releasing with a shudder. He slumps back against the bed and I roll off of the top of him trying to capture my breath.

           He wraps his arms around me, pulling me towards him as my chest rises and falls rapidly.

           “Holy shit that was amazing,” I say, my voice barely louder than a breathless whisper, “It’s like you knew just how I like it.”

           “I read your notebook,” He admits guiltily, pressing a kiss to my temple and I choke on a breath.

           “Oh my god you read it?” I ask, embarrassment flooding my face and he lets out a low chuckle.

           “What do you think gave me the courage to make a move?” He asks and I shrug, “Besides, it was probably the most useful research I’ve ever stumbled across.” He adds, capturing my lips with him and I kiss him back passionately.

           “So, can we talk about everything now?” I ask hesitantly and he nuzzles his face into my neck.

           “What’s there to talk about? You’re mine now and forever. You’ve always been mine.” He mumbles against my skin and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach at his words.

           “Just how I like it.” I whisper, cuddling in closer to him, and he presses soft kisses into my neck before pulling a blanket over us.
Liam Payne and Niall Horan Have One Direction Reunion in Indiana
British Boy banders meet up in the Midweest

British boybanders Liam Payne and Niall Horan, had a One Direction reunion last night—in Indiana of all places last night. The superstar singers met up at a concert in Indianapolis, and of course, both shared the Instagram-worthy moment on Insta.

The duo, who met in the most unlikely of places, were in the Midwest for the ZPL Birthday Bash, a concert hosted by local radio station WZPL. Flo Rida, Fifth Harmony, James Arthur and Aaron Carter all performed at the star-studded concert.

In two cute videos on Horan and Payne’s Instagram stories, the singers posed back to back and said “look who I found” and showed the other one. Horan jokes that he and his pal “Payno” are actually at the “horse show” as well, showing the horse track, which is backstage at the Indiana Farmers Coliseum.

A lot of happened since the boys took a break from 1D but it’s clear these two are still experts at horsing around together!

🌚 why you should not be friends with any of the types 🌚

DISCLAIMER: i feed on stereotypes so pls do not be hurt of the feelings

isfj: every cookie they bake is laced with unspeakable sorrow. you are obese. dudley dursley looks waifish next to you. you cannot move except to raise cookies to your mouth. they emerge from the kitchen with more. they smile. 

esfj: they have too many other friends who adore them too much. you are reduced to fighting in the hunger games with all the esfj’s other friends.

istj: they are fluffy friends who care about you. you plan a dinner to thank them. you ask them, “saturday sound okay?” crossing a slot off their planner, they reply, “for 1 hour, 42 minutes, and 17 seconds, i will be at your leisure.”

estj: like an amoeba they absorb you. at first you protest, but soon you find yourself getting brainwashed and drawn, fibre by slow fibre, into their army of mindless minions.

infp: they are super nice lil worms, but have you ever thought to ask them why they always wear that one oversized extra-baggy jacket? the pockets are full of knives. and old grudges

enfp: they become like a sister to you then they leave you and move to singapore with two weeks’ notice. 0/10 would not recommend

infj: they wear so much black eyeliner that you’re never really sure what they’re thinking. which is probably good, because you probably don’t want to know what they’re thinking. (psst they’re reading your mind)

enfj: do you really want to be suffocated with hugs? cause that’s how you get suffocated with hugs

istp: you see them leaning on a graffiti-ridden wall. you say “hey howve you been–” silence. behind their sunglasses you detect a flicker as of some long-sleeping dragon awakening to spit a first tentative lick of flame. you back away.

estp: you are reduced to a sidekick and a wingman, watching with tears in your eyes as the estp takes everything you love. you can never be cooler than them. you will be a footnote in the annals of coolness.

isfp: they wish to understand the meaning of life, and that is a quest upon which they must embark alone.

esfp: you’re not good enough for them. you are not worthy to share the space on the yoga mat which is their sole possession in the whole wide world. that’s it. that’s the only reason

intp: at 2 AM your phone buzzes. you pick it up groggily. the notification from the intp reads: “Remember the Alamo!” you text back “what the fuck”. there is no reply. only silence. only the void.

entp: they trick you into telling them your deepest, darkest secret. then they make puns about it. layers upon layers of puns. onion puns. save me im drowning

intj: like diogenes, they prefer you to not approach them lest you stand in the way of their sunlight complete solitude. unlike diogenes, they live in a fortified stronghold with a crocodile-filled moat.

entj: their laugh is just really creepy. like, on a scale of one to megalomaniac, RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN

Don’t Speak (Baron Corbin) Vol. 1

Originally posted by youtappedout

Characters: Baron Corbin X Reader

A/S/F: Angst. A whole lot of angst that will only get worse as this progresses forward.

Notes: @unabashedwwesmut helped me craft this to a beginning. She helped me find parts to work on and where to start. I can’t thank her enough for her support in simply just listening and helping me bring this fic series to life!

Request: N/A

Warnings: No warnings just yet! This will be heavy on angst and possibly triggering if you have been screwed over by an ex or a recent break-up. My own recent break-up is my main motivation for this fic. A lot of this will stem from actual conversations or texts.

Word Count: 1.8k

Those who wish to be tagged! @ambrosegirlforever, @valeonmars, @thebadchic, @nickysmum1909, @vsturgeon5489, @jade4062022, @ortonaholic, @seths-skinny-jeans, @lakama15, @southernbelle24, @wwefangirlllll, @spiderman2289, @nickie-amore, @blondekel77, @princess3733, @toosweetme , @unabashedwwesmut,

Keep reading

where-is-my-jason-todd  asked:

Hey there! I was wondering if I could request a Kirishima x reader imagine where they're both heroes and he goes out of his way to protect her in battle and she has no idea why until he confesses? Sorry it was so long. I completely understand if you dont write it.

Honestly, I’m not sure what happened here. This is so long … it seems I lost control. Oh, and here is the return of my kinda OC Blacksmith. Requests featuring her if you guys are interested: Request 1, Request 2

Kirishima knows you can take care of yourself. Everyone knows that Blacksmith is more than capable of handling herself, especially in a fight. It’s where you thrive, where you felt most alive. You are a young goddess of war, a master of combat. Knowing you for three years now, Kirishima knows that fact about you. He knows that very well.

You are locked in a heated exchange of blades. The villain Necroma, a burly, blond man, a mass of muscle and impressive height with a blood-soaked grin, matches every blow with a shocking intensity. You knock him back, trying to create a bit of distance between you. The sword in your right hand transforms into a dagger with a golden flash of your eyes. You throw it at his head, and he dodges. But you are already on him with your gauntlet covered hand in a fist ready to strike. Necroma’s body goes limp before your fist connects. You look around. He reanimates one of the multiple bodies laying on the battlefield. His new form brings down his massive blade. Your eyes flash gold as the gauntlet in your hands extends into a spear. The ground buckles underneath you as you are forced into the earth by his brute strength. You let his sword slide down your staff, knocking him off balance. You bring your leg and connect your foot with his face; he is send stumbling to the side, crashing into the wall. You run up to him as your other wrist guard and spear transform into dual swords.

You are a goddess of battle. Anyone can see it, every villain you faced can feel it in your monstrous power, and Kirishima knows it. He does. But it doesn’t stop him from running to you in the midst of battle. Because your back is turned … and because you don’t realize Necroma has used his Quirk to put his soul into another corpse … and because he is so desperately in love with you.

Ever since the day when you stopped that massive slab of concrete from crushing him, he’s had feelings for you. That’s why he has to get to you in time. It’s the same reason why you can’t die.

He hasn’t told you yet.


You turn, eyes wide, but Kirishima is already in front of you, taking the blow in place of you. The blade shatters against his hardened skin. Necroma’s new body hums. 

“A Hardening Quirk, eh? I think I have the perfect body for that. But first,” he says, grabbing Kirishima’s face mask and sending him flying away from you.

“Red Riot!” you scream as the body behind you reanimates, wrapping his arm around your neck. He strips the metal from your body, leaving your bare and vulnerable.

“Red Riot, Beta Team is clear! They have the target. Leave with them now! Complete the mission!”

“No! I can’t!”

“Are you an idiot? Complete the mission! Leave while you can!”

“I can’t leave you!”

“Why not? I’m telling you to get out of here! You’d better follow my orders!”

There you go again. Always trying to save him. From the first time he met you, you were always coming to his recuse, saving him. It always seemed so natural to you. You always moved without hesitation. Even now, your voice does not waver when you tell him to run. Kirishima pushes to his hands and knees. 

He’s always felt bad for harboring these feelings. He felt even worst holding onto them for all these years. But he never felt worthy of sharing how he’s felt. How could he confess his feelings to someone he couldn’t even protect. What kind of man did that make him? Kirishima stumbles to his feet, coughing. He is going to be the one to save you this time. He is finally going to be able to tell you. 

Kirishima roars, bumping his fist together and charging at you. 

“Hmm, so he’s getting back up?” the body holding you purrs, “I didn’t think he has the strength. No matter. Soul Splitter.”

Another body animates on the field. This one is a tall blue-haired male with straight hair and black lifeless eyes like the rest of them. He rushes Kirishima, knocking his fist into his stomach. Kirishima’s eyes cross as the air is knocked out of his lungs. He looks down at the man’s fist. It shouldn’t have hurt. He should’ve been able to harden. Why didn’t he harden?

“I’ve told you that I had the perfect Quirk for you. This person could weaken the bonds between atoms. I assume your Quirk uses carbon to harden your skin.”

Necroma smirks, grabbing Kirishima’s hand and yanking him towards his waiting fist. A sickening crunch resonates in Kirishima’s ears as the thick taste of iron fills his mouth. He stumbles backwards, spitting out globs of blood. Kirishima takes a wild swing, disoriented, but still fueled by his hero spirit and the sound of you screaming his name. Necroma snorts, easily catching his hand. He brings his powerful fist down on Kirshima’s stomach as he breaks bonds and attacks the vulnerable skin. 

“Red Riot!” you scream when Necroma picks up a piece of metal, jamming it into his stomach, “Red Riot, no!”

Necroma snorts again, lifting Kirishima by his throat, “You should have run when she gave you the chance. You aren’t nearly as adept in battle as she is. Did you want to prove something to her? Your masculinity? Well now both of you are going to die.”

You flinch when you hear more grunts and whimpers from Kirishima. He looks over at your through his swollen eyelids. You are still struggling against the body holding yours. You look around desperately for any metal that you can get your hands on. 

“You can only break the bonds of what your hands touch,” Kirishima whispers hoarsely, “So what’ll happen if I do this?”

Kirishima hardens his hand and tries to jab Necroma in his elbow. The villain catches his fist with a raised eyebrow. 

“Did you think that would work?”

“No, but this will.”

Necroma hisses when the toe of Kirishima’s boot connects with his chin. He throws the boy away from him, holding his jaw. Necroma brushes his blue hair back before rushing towards Kirishima with his hand extended. Kirishima’s eyes widen and everything slows for a second. His eyes move over to you. 

(Name), you know this might not be the best time or place … but … I feel like I need to tell you this. Because I might die, and I just gotta let you know. 

You are screaming, hair flying and tears streaming down your face as you fight against the body holding you.

I’ve always thought you were really cool, (Name). You were always so strong, and even though you had your own dreams … you never hesitated in protecting me

You sink your teeth into the arm wrapped around your neck. He doesn’t flinch or move a centimeter. Your mouth is only filled with the rancid taste of blood. You don’t understand, dammit. You don’t understand why won’t he just run.

I always thought you were way too cool. Even though we’re just about the same age, you were so much stronger than me … and gosh you’re pretty too … 

Necroma’s hand is inches from Kirishima’s face. 

I’ve had a crush on you ever since we met, you know. I wanted to prove myself to you. I wanted to prove myself to me … I guess it didn’t work out though. Is it cheating if I tell you my feelings anyway? Because … I just might die here. 

“Red Riot! Please don’t die!”

Kirishima blinks. His body reacts faster than he is able to think, catching Necroma’s wrist and sending his fist into his elbow joint. He hisses as the bones in his arm fracture. Kirishima stands on his wobbling feet. He picks up two pieces of rebar and looks at you through hazy, half-lidded eyes. Kirishima smiles at you. Even though blood mats his hair and dyes his sclera red, he still smiles at you. Jamming one bar into the hands of Necroma, he traps him against the ground as he roars in pain, and his body falls limp.


He throws the second piece of metal just before he collapses onto the ground. Your eyes flash golden as your fingertips brush over the rebar, transforming it into a dagger. You lodge the knife into your captor’s side. Necroma’s first body, the blond beast, loosens his grip on you. Picking up your wrist guard, you immediately fly to Kirishima’s side.

“Red Riot, I thought I told you to run, you idiot.”

His eyes crack open, “I … I couldn’t. You know … how can I be a man if I leave the girl I love behind? I … I love you …”

A blush covers your face, but you don’t have time to bask in the glow of his words. You lift his heavy body into your arms as you scan the multiple scattered bodies lying in the dirt. Nothing is moving. Even the air is still as your sharp eyes search for any flicker of movement. Nothing. Necroma must’ve hit a time limit and returned to his original body.

Now is your time. You hoist up Kirishima’s limp body, cradling him in your arms, and sprint away from the battlefield. Kirishima groans in your arms. He is watching you as the corners of his vision go black. You are saying something to him, but he can’t hear a word your saying. Now that he thinks about it … he can’t feel much of anything either. You’re still so cool though. Even when he tried to save you, you are still the one protecting him. How pathetic and uncool. He still isn’t good enough. Kirishima’s head lolls back as his eyelids flutter closed. 

He still isn’t good enough for you.

Title: Run to You
Author: Iwalkalone258
Character(s): Barry Allen, Iris West
Category: Romance
Rating: G
Word Count: 1120
Chapter(s): 3 of 5
Previous Chapters: 1 , 2  
Summary:  Intimate moments between Barry and Iris leading up to May 23rd. [Drabbles] 

A/N: This chapter was inspired by @wanderer765. I told @iwasalwaysaromantic I was gonna write this. I hope you all enjoy. This is how I feel Iris would react to finding out Savitar wears Barry’s face.

“W-what do you mean you’re Savitar?” Her voice trembles while she watches him with huge eyes, eyes Barry can’t seem to look away from. He takes a step closer to where she stands but she takes a step back, one of her hands reaching out as a warning to stop him. She doesn’t want him touching her and that burns a life size crater into his heart. He sucks in a pained breath and decides to give her space momentarily.

“I-I…” he stutters, not knowing how to answer her question coherently. How do you tell the love of your life that the monster who wants to murder her is some form of you? He scratches behind his ear, consternation crippling his chest.

“I-I’m not,” Barry’s nostrils flare as he inhales. His palms itch to touch her, his body already in need of her warmth, and her strength. She’s always been the stronger of the two until now. Water springs to his eyes once he notices how small she looks, how terrified. He’s never noticed that before.

“But he has your face so it’s some form of you, right?”

“Yes.” His feet step forward on their own accord, his heart beating erratically in his throat. Iris doesn’t move this time; she only wraps her arms around herself and he takes this as encouragement to take a half step closer. He wants to make all of this disappear. He wants to soak her pain up and make her feel better, make her feel alive. “Yes he has my face but he’s not me,”

Iris glances away but it’s too late because he sees her tears. He sees this wounded, hurtful look cross her features and he can’t imagine what she must be feeling.

He’s the love of her life, the man she sees a future with, the man of her dreams, her lover, her best friend, and it dawns on her that her best friend’s doppelgänger wants to murder her and in all honesty, she doesn’t know how to react. How is she supposed to react?

“Iris,” She hears him plead, and the way he speaks her name is bleeding with the pain imploding inside of her chest. Her bottom lip quivers out of rhythm with her heaving. She wants to cry, no that’s not right, she wants to sob. She can already feel the tremor roll through her like thunder on a stormy night and this time she doesn’t try to stop it.

He’s catching her before she realizes she’s falling. They’re in a heap on the floor in the middle of Star Labs and she can’t recall her legs giving out or when she first tastes the salt from her tears.

How is she supposed to react?

Iris’s shaking hands finds Barry’s and her grasps are laden like steel but she holds no intentions of hurting him. She’s holding on for dear life. She’s exhausted from keeping up this persona, from pretending none of this is affecting her. It is because she’s afraid. She’s afraid of dying, of not being on earth long enough to accomplish her dreams, to be the woman she’s meant to be in this life.

Barry’s arms tighten around her, and he holds her to his chest while her sobs rock both of their tensed frames. His cheeks are wet when he buries his lips on top of her head.

“You have to believe me when I say I would never hurt you,” His words string together, rawness dripping from every syllable. “I’m the same person you’ve known since we were ten, the same person you welcomed into your home, the same person you believed when no one else did. I’m that same person Iris. I’ve never changed from that person and I would never do anything to hurt you,” He draws away from her enough to cup her cheeks, his palms engulfing her face. At first she doesn’t look at him but when she raises her gaze to his, he can’t help but brush gentle kisses over each of her eyes in turn.

It’s been seventeen years and he’s never seen her this fragile; this broken. She’s so strong, so independent that seeing her like this triggers a reaction deep in his gut. He can’t help but feel trepidation for the future.

No, Savitar won’t lay a finger on her. He’ll die before that happens. Her hands filter up to grip his wrists and all Barry can do is stare into the depths of her eyes. He remembers the day Joe brings him home from the police station, he remembers those same sweet eyes watching him with such kindness, such warmth. He remembers taking her offered hand and knowing no matter where life takes them that she’ll forever be his home.

“He’s not me Iris and I’m not him,” No parts of me are, he adds silently. “I love you, you’re my life, my dream and I would never hurt you, okay?”

She exhales, her eyes no longer filled with tears. His thumb rubs over the vagarious thump of the beat in her wrist, hoping to reassure her. Barry can’t explain any of this, all he discerns is the need to protect her. She licks her lips and slowly nods willing herself to calm down, her sniffles the only response.

“He’s not me Iris,” Barry repeats again, nailing that fact in with his eyes. “Nor will I ever be him,” She visibly swallows and nods again, showing her decision to accept this. That’s all she can do because she doesn’t trust her voice not to waiver or her chest not to cave in. He leans in and kisses her lips so tenderly that Iris thinks she imagines the whole thing.

“Now let’s go figure out a way to stop him.” He’s wiping her tears away and helping her up within seconds. She doesn’t need to speak, or say a single word because he understands, he has always understood and the monster who pins for her death isn’t her Barry Allen. He’s not worthy of sharing the same face either. Barry uses his knuckles to wipe the remainder of the salty wetness from her eyelashes.

“I love you,” she whispers, stopping him with a hand splayed over his racing heart.

“I love you too.” He responds without fault or kilter. He spreads his hand over the one on his chest and they stand for a pregnant moment gazing at each other, basking in a type of understanding. Iris is the first to break the moment. She turns her palm to his and intertwines their fingers together. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t do anything else but squeezes his hand as they both walk back into the cortex together.

Mosaic of Words

Words I use
For building
Of crystalline
Forgotten fantasies

I weave words
In order
Out of sequence
At times
Like tiles in mosaics
Stones in your rhymes

I’ll plead as I try
To be worthy
Share with you
Remnants of
Shattered glass

I’ll weave my lyrics
You’ll visualize your image
We’ll weave them
In unison
Stories we’ve lived
Tales that have died
Sharing this masterpiece
Before our goodbyes

At least we’ll bring
A little of ourselves
Solid pieces to
Remind us
Different shards we were
Mosaics entwined

-H. Murcia 8:25PM 5/2/2017

i wrote this on facebook but i am crossposting it here

one thing i really hate about the culture of public mourning around celebrities and artists is the idea that i have to somehow prove to the “me, an intellectual” rick and morty set that i actually have an emotional connection around the person who has died in order for my grief to be “worthy” of sharing or not subject to their judgment and scrutiny.

i’m not sad about tom petty because of fucking chemtrails or some weird illuminati scheme to keep me docile, you nonsensical tyler durden assholes. i’m sad because he made a lot of beautiful, fun, hopeful music that I will always love. I’m not fickle or a dupe or a shill, I’m not “ignoring” real issues, and I’m not bandwagoning either.

AND even if I were, WHO CARES! save your derision for the all lives matter set and let me be sad about pop music.