#[HI sorry disappeared for a few days in the middle of stuff]

[copterbotblades]

// ahem. I would sell my soul for a Blades plushie

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically “you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

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

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

[tsukii0002]

Imagine the contrast of the coexistence between Mc and Solomon, a human who did not know that magic was real until relatively recently and another human who has lived for centuries and who uses magic as if it were breathing.

Imagine that little things at home where Solomon is always willing to use magic to solve it, while Mc always beats him to it in the most common and least magical way possible.

But above all imagine, Solomon's frustration, how can his magic be rendered useless in such a way? And if he has no magic, what can he bring to that home?

Solomon: Remember that blanket I told you had a hole in it, I think it's time to mend it *opening one of his books*

Mc: I've already mended it, with a few stitches it's as good as new.

Solomon: Oh…

Solomon: Mc, what was the table that was broken?

Mc: Oh, don't worry, I fixed it.

Solomon: Really? What spell did you use?

Mc: Ha, ha, Solomon, you don't need magic to wedge a table.

Solomon: Mc!! With this spell we will solve our rat problem!

Mc: *smiling* I've already taken care of that, no for nothing Barbatos is so happy with me.

Solomon: That's how you earn your premium tea leaves?

Solomon: Please tell me you didn't fix the shelf that was sagging *with a book under his arm*

Mc: *eating a muffin* Oops.

Solomon: Mc, I told you I'd fix it *pointing at the. with the book*

Mc: Solomon, it was tightening two screws, it's going to take you longer to look up such a mundane spell than to fix it manually.

.

Solomon: Mc… you're a sorceress, you should use magic more!

Mc: *funny* And you should use magic less!!! You're still a human, old man. By the way, remember those yellow spots on the tablecloth that bothered you so much?

Solomon: Yeah?

Mc: Well, I've already made them disappear and without magic.

Solomon: How????

Solomon is sitting, somewhat annoyed, on one of the balconies

Mc: Hey…

Solomon: …

Mc: Are you upset?

Solomon: … No.

Mc: *sighing as they stands next to him* Let's talk, tell me, why does it bother you so much that I solve things without magic?

Solomon: I'm not upset, we don't need to talk at all.

Mc: You know that communication is part of living together right? We are two people with different ways of living, if we don't talk how are we going to have a good cohabitation?

Solomon: … With the brothers you never had that problem.

Mc: Sure I have, maybe not with these things because Lucifer encourages certain stuff to be done manually, but we had to set a lot of guidelines when I started living with them.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: *sighing* I'm not upset… it's just that I'm used to doing everything with magic, even the smallest things, it's easier, faster.

Mc: Well, sometimes yes, but sometimes it's easier to do it without magic, and in my case I'm used to not use magic.

Solomon: *looking at them* I know, but there are things I can't do without magic.

Mc: But that's what I'm for, isn't it?

Solomon: *doubting* Then' what do I bring to our cohabitation?

Mc: *realizing*

Solomon: You cook, you do a lot of chores because you are faster, and you take care of a lot of things that allow you to have a routine… I feel that instead of living together, I am a guest...

Mc: Solomon...

Solomon: And if I can't even use my magic, Am I useless? without my magic I…

The two are silent for a moment

Mc: I'm sorry, I've minimized how you feel… and I've done things my way without taking you into account.

Solomon: Ha, ha, don't worry, *now kind of sad* It's not that big of a deal.

Mc: No, I told you, communication is part of living together and you should tell me what bothers you.

Solomon: *looking at them*

Mc: We can try to find a middle ground.

Solomon: How?

Mc: *thoughtful* Well, the day to day things we can do manually and the things that are very difficult or tedious we can use magic?

Solomon: *considering it seriously'* You could also teach me how to do tasks without magic, like how to wedge a table… and I could teach you spells that I usually use, like the one that sweeps the house by itself.

Mc: *smiling* We can also make a schedule so we don't step on each other's to-dos.

Solomon: *smiling too* And create a chat room exclusively for house stuff where we can let each other know if we're going to do something.

Mc: That sounds like a great idea Solomon.

Solomon: *more lively* And I'd also like to do certain chores together, like laundry or cooking.

Mc: … *feeling bad at Solomon's happy face* Yes… we can do that too.

.

.

This turned out to be longer than I thought, and what started as something funny has turned into a drama😅. I'm not going to lie to you, I love domestic dramas, day to day problems… so this post has turned into that because Solomon is used to live in a very different way than Mc, and living together for the first time is always complicated and habits are hard to change, and co-living is not always so great. Give me domestic situations between Mc and the rest of the cast please!!!! 🥺🥺

Anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you very much for reading🩷

.

.

[ywuji]

Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol

ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)

perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)

n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...

i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.

it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)

it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his. 

he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.

maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.

but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.

nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.

and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.

you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.

honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(

no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.

“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.

when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.

he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.

when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.

a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?

at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.

he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”

in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.

he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.

he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.

he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.

he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.

he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.

he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.

[parfaitblogs]

peace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you self isolate, and spencer knows better than to let it get too bad. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. suicide ideation? ("i want it to end"). depression. lots of stuff that coincides with that. brief mention of reader not eating/having no food. please be aware of your triggers. i think i mention reader as a girl somewhere? word count: 1.9k a/n: i finished this then relistened to peace (taylor swift) which was the og inspo for this, and added a section in the middle so if it feels weird its because i failed at integrating it! this was supposed to be out two days ago. all my relationship insecurities in a fic. lol how embarrassing here's my heart tumblr dot com!! anyways enjoy ily all

also posted here on my ao3 !

Three consistent raps against your front door was the only sound that got you up that day, pyjamas that you had not shed from your body in a week hanging off a frame that could probably be described as lifeless — with the nearly dead-looking face to match.

In fact, the only thing to prove you were still a living human being aside from your movement, was the pink hue around your eyes, on your nose, and above your lips, indicating how much you had cried recently. 

Usually, it isn't this bad. You just need a day or two of rotting in your apartment and doing nothing but scrolling on your phone until it died, staring at the wall, or — on the better days — watching reruns of a 90s sitcom that you don't really watch. 

But it was exceptionally bad this time around, for some odd reason, and not one part of you actually wanted to get up and out of bed for long enough to be productive about your day. Your phone had died again, after charging it two days ago, which meant you were on day six of no communication with anybody. Which might partly be why it was so bad now. 

You had a blanket wrapped around your body, dragging against the floor as you wiped your eyes and let out a small sigh, unlocking your front door and opening it, completely unsurprised by the person standing on the other side. 

He was the only one who ever paid enough attention to your disappearing act when you were like this. 

His eyes softened at the sight of you — which is kind of amusing, considering you thought you looked like death reincarnate currently. 

Neither of you said anything as you stepped aside to allow him in, the door clicking shut behind him as he placed down the leather bag he had slung over his body, turning back to you as he finally allowed the frown to appear — one you knew he would've had the entire way here.

"Have you eaten today?" was the first thing to break the silence — the question coming out so gentle you were sure you'd break down again at some point in the next few seconds. 

You wordlessly shook your head, and he nodded his own, saying nothing else as he walked into your kitchen, knowing you'd trail behind him no matter what. 

He opened your fridge first, before closing it when he was greeted with the alarming sight of nothing. Doing the same with your pantry, at which he turned around to look at you.

"Angel, you have no food," he said. And while it held no malice in the tone of his voice, you could tell he was slightly annoyed at the fact. Your heart ached. 

"I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled, and his eyebrows creased inwards. 

He didn't mention your apology — arguing with you about your vast use of 'sorry's' is futile. "Do you want a pizza?" he asked instead, and even though you, mentally, did not, you knew he wasn't actually asking. So you only nodded your head, and found a place at your countertop, the blanket falling from your body and pooling to the ground in a heap.

He ordered a pizza, and then he was nudging your knees apart, standing between them while you stayed sat on a stool, his chin atop your head, that was buried into his chest. 

And he said nothing, as he held you like that until the pizza arrived. And then he ensured you had at least eaten two slices, the remainders going in your fridge for the next meal you needed to eat. 

He was so kind to you, with his every movement, as he dragged you into the bathroom to help you shower. 

It was heartbreaking, the love you could see in his eyes. The tenderness in every stroke of his fingers against your scalp as he washed your hair, the softness in his touch as he did the same to your body. He gently dried you, told you to stay there, disappeared, and returned with one of his many t-shirts left in your apartment drawers. 

That was when you cracked. When he pulled the shirt over your head, that smelled so painfully Spencer and you. The mix of his clean scent and your own laundry detergent that you were so accustomed to, triggering something in you.

So, you crumpled to the floor of your bathroom, and he followed soon after, his arms wrapped around your body once more, firm enough to keep you still as you sobbed into his chest. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that for. Long enough for your head to hurt, and your eyes to sting, and hideous snot bubbles to stain his cardigan. 

When your sobs subsided, he spoke. 

"You wanna talk about it?" he said, quietly, and you shook your head. 

"Don't know what to talk about," you mumbled, and he knew that all too well.

He nodded his own head. "Did something happen?"

"Lots of little things."

"Yeah? You wanna tell me about them?"

You hesitated, because you didn't know where to begin. But then you nodded your head wordlessly, swallowing the lump — and, by extension, the sob — in your throat. "I fell down on the stairs at the train station in front of everybody. And then I missed my stop, and I was late to work. And I had a huge project due, but I didn't finish it, and I forgot I hadn't finished it, and I was anxious about it all day. And I think my friends are just pretending to be my friends, because I keep trying to make plans with one of them, and she keeps blowing me off for her boyfriend. And I'm just really sick of being sad all the time, Spencer. I want it to end."

With the onslaught of your bad vignettes throughout the past month coming back up, you broke down, again. Another sob escaping your lips as you pushed your fists down into the tops of his thighs.

If it hurt, he didn't say anything; simply continued to hold you against his chest, on the floor of your bathroom, that, if it were any other time, he would be having a field day rambling about the germs you both were currently sitting on. 

He also didn't say anything for a while as you sobbed, instead his fingers entangled gently in your hair, and he peppered kisses along the top of your head. 

"I don't want it to end for you," he finally said. His hands slid down from your scalp to your face, holding your cheeks with such tender, pulling you back so he could look at you. 

You sniffled. "I'm so exhausted."

"I know, my love. I know," he sighed, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones. "Ending it won't fix that. You know, logically, however you die is the state you'll be in, in the afterlife. So if you die while you're exhausted..."

"You don't believe in the afterlife," you answer, but his words still cracked through your tearful expression, and your lips twitched with a small smile. 

He returned the small smile, nodding his head. "That's true. But I also don't know anything about post-death. I could be wrong."

"How terrible," you mutter, and he laughed, quietly. 

"I know," he mused, falling silent for a few moments longer, with only both of your quiet breathing to break the silence. 

His fingers ran through your hair once more, and you sniffled audibly, your brain wandering away from the small content you had felt in that exchange, and back to one of the many reasons why you had isolated in the first place. 

"Why are you still with me?" you said, slicing through the silence all at once. 

You watched the smile fall, and his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips part as he went — and hesitated — to say something. "What do you mean?"

"I'm difficult." Your voice is impossibly small, and it breaks a crack in his heart as his eyes soften. 

"No. You're not," he reassured. 

"Yes I am," you breathed out — and then the tears came back. "I get sad and then I stop responding and stop seeing you, and you don't get any warning even though I know you should, and I feel so awful every time but then that makes me feel worse. And I'm sad all the fucking time, Spencer. I mean, I get upset when you aren't at home and you have to deal with all those messages and calls even though you hate texting, but then you get home and I'm isolating myself because I'm sad, on top of all the other things that make me sad, and you deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you their all and—and—"

"Hey," he cut you off, as did the sob that was ripped from your throat. "No. That's not what we're going to do. Do not sit there and tell me what I do and don't deserve." 

"But you do deserve better."

"No," he sighed, resting his forehead on your own, warm breath fanning across your face that usually made you scrunch your face up and pull away, now comforting you. "Do you love me?"

"What? Yes, of course I do. Why would you even—"

"—That is the only requirement I have for you," he said, oh so simply. When you didn't reply, he pressed, "Okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, and he relaxes a little.

More silence fell between you, your tears subsiding and your shaking body relaxing a little more. 

Then, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell down?"

You nodded your head, reluctantly pulling back from him so you could show him. You pointed to a yellowing bruise just below your knee, and the grazes on the bottom halves of your palms. 

"Oh, wow. Look at these," Spencer said, running a thumb gently over the grazes on your hands. "You're braver than me. These would've taken me out."

You laughed, and you saw his face light up at the progress he was making with you, and your mood. 

He then pulled you back into his chest. More silence, but less anxiety, and you sat comfortably in his arms for a few moments longer. 

"Did I worry you?" you say. "Not responding?"

You were so close to him you could hear his breath hitch, and you prepared yourself for a lie about how he wasn't worried at all. Except; "Honestly? Yes."

"Oh."

He exhaled, shakily, and you were kind of glad he couldn't see your sadder expression, half-buried into his chest. 

"You've never gone that long without checking in," he then explained. "The first two days I got what was going on. By the fourth I figured you still needed space. Today I just had a gut feeling."

"Just a gut feeling?" you echoed, and you felt his head nod against your own. 

"Thought you might need someone."

You sighed. "I hate that you're a genius."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't."

His fingers entangled in your hair again. "I also didn't figure you needed me here because I'm a genius."

"No? Then how?" you asked.

"It's simple," he murmured, tugging your head back oh so gently so he could look at you again — puffy eyed, and tear-stained cheeks and all. "I just know."

"That's the most illogical sentence I've ever heard leave your mouth."

He laughed, and you smiled again.

"Come on," he then said, untangling your limbs and pulling the both of you up to your feet, hands ghosting your waist to hold you steady. "I am willing to sit through whatever awful movie you want me to watch."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[gr1mstar]

I'm a huge Dark romance book girlie

So can you write LDS boys finding out what she was reading like they had no idea reader has a fascination with dark romance books with psychotic ml or villains

I'M BETTER `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

note. i'm also a huge fan of darl romance books so i had fun writing this. thank you for your request love. also, i'm sorry for the wait, i hope you like it.

contains. love and deepspace boys x reader, fluff, sfw.

ZAYNE

you both had this hobby of reading, so it wasn't strange when zayne found you on the sofa in the living room of your apartment, reading a new book.

the only difference between you was that zayne read books related to medicine and history, while you liked to read romance books. zayne knew that you weren't into history or medicine, so he didn't bother to explain in detail what he read, but he was more satisfied listening to you complain that the two protagonists are stupid that they don't see that they love each other others.

at least zayne liked listening to your stories until they disappeared. suddenly, you started not telling him anything.

so curiously, when you put the book down to go drink a glass of water from the kitchen, he took the book you were reading at the moment, wanting to see what makes you stop sharing the plot of the story.

after some time, making your way back to the living room and seeing zayne with the book in his hand, his face red and a shocked expression on his face, you started to laugh subtly.

"what is it? what's with that expression?"

speechless, zayne puts the book down, moving closer to you.

"to understand that this is how you want me to be too?" he said, placing his hands on either side of your waist.

"what?"

"to talk to you like this… to tie you to the bed with something and make you stop walking the next day? to be crazy about you? what do you say?"

XAVIER

seeing you blushing in front of the book you were reading, xavier couldn't help but ask you what you were reading.

"ah, just a romance book." was your answer, returning to reading, the blush on your cheeks not disappearing.

not satisfied with the answer, xavier sighs and sits back with his head in your lap. thinking that he had nothing to lose, in a second the book you were reading now was in xavier's hands, his eyes on the lines you had just read.

"what is this?" he asked, flipping through a few pages and then looking at the cover. a smile appeared on his face. "do you like this stuff?" he continued, handing you the book back.

you didn't answer now the blush in your cheeks being much more obvious than before, your gaze moving down, avoiding his.

"i understand that you like antagonists more than heroes, right? someone obsessed with you?" xavier said, approaching you with big steps, now being a few millimeters away from you. bending down, his face was directly in front of yours, and with the help of a hand he forced you to look at him, grabbing your chin and turning your head.

"you're lucky, princess. i can be mean sometimes, but you have to take responsibility for it."

RAFAYEL

rafayel never understood what you like so much about books. it is a fictional story, with a fictional person. why waste your time reading about them when you have him, alive and very sexy, in front of you.

this, out of curiosity, he tried to read one day, when he had no painting to complete.

getting into bed, with a cup of coffee 'for energy', he started reading the last book you recommended, not expecting what would happen next.

the hours passed quickly, and in the middle of the book Rafayel lay down, looking at the time in wonder. the whole day had passed, and all he had done was read.

"i lived to see this too." he heard, immediately seeing that it was you at the door. "are you reading?" you asked, laying down on the bed next to him.

"let's say. i was curious why you like it so much." Rafael answered, leaving the book on the bedside table and taking you in his arms.

"and did you like it?"

he didn't say anything, taking his face into the crack between your shoulder and neck, inhaling the aroma of your body. he didn't want to admit that he liked the book, being too ashamed to tell you that now he understood why you liked it.

"so you like it." you said, laughing lightly.

"no. I'm better."

© 2024 gr1mstar — all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi sorry if im annoying u but can u do a james hook x reader story . I kenda want the reder to be the dugther of peter pan and hook fell in love whit her.

no need to worry! you're totally fine haha ; but yeah of course I could! ; I decided to make the reader a kind of relative to Peter (sibling/cousin at least) cause age differences and whatnot, even though Peter stays a kid forever, I still didn't wanna do smthn weird lolll but dw I got you ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I only write they/them / gn readers but I tried to keep readers gender identity pretty in the middle and stuff so

JAMES HOOK ; star crossed lovers

summary ; you and hook fall for each other, your love forbidden as he was a vk, and you were an ak

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; reader can fly & uses pixie dust like peter pan

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

Hook's eyes land on you from afar, watching as you sprinkle pixie dust upon Bridget and Ella. They had been begging you to let them try out flying, and you'd finally given in halfway through today.

He peers past the concrete wall into the courtyard, watching you three fly about, or really, watch you try to help your friends learn how to fly how you do. You giggle, bouncing back as you practically swim in air, watching them struggle to control themselves. It wasn't as easy as it looked.

"Whoever can fly to class faster wins!" Bridget laughs, looking over at Ella.

"Oh, you're on!" She smiles, dashing toward the nearest doors as fast as she could, attempting to beat Bridget.

Bridget was definitely better at the flight thing, but Ella had speed. You'd have to check in with them later, considering your class was in the opposite direction.

Hook, seeing you were now alone, casually walks toward you, having popped out of nowhere as you watch Ella and Bridget soar past the windows and eventually disappear. He tilts his head as he looks up at you, trying to read you somehow, from behind. You turn around, jumping back in slight fear and surprise.

"Uhm, hello!-" You awkwardly smile, floating a above the ground, making yourself a foot taller than him. You recognize him, knowing he's a VK.

"What's with the eh-" He looks you up and down, "Floaty thing?"

You glance around and shrug. "I dunno. Just kinda... born like that"

He nods, posing no threat. "Cool"

You subtly raise an eyebrow. "You think?"

"Yeah," He chuckles. "Got any more of that fairy dust?" He asks, referring to the magical golden dust that enchanted its victims with flight.

"Pixie dust," you correct. "But, yeah. Why?"

"You do flying classes?" He asks, a soft expression on his face, one of curiosity, craving adventure.

Your cautious expression quickly fades to one of happiness, a smile curling the corners of your lips up. "For you, I guess"

He smiles, watching as you dig into your pocket and sprinkle him in the glittering gold powder. His feet slowly depart from the floor, his arms quickly reaching out to you in fear.

You jump back to avoid his hooked hand, but realized that this was more like teaching a kid how to ride a bike rather than he wanted to hurt you. You reach for his in-tact hand, pulling him closer to you, laughter escaping your lips as he front flips a few times.

"This isn't funny!"

"Yeah, it is!"

He clings onto you, not liking gravity not pulling him down to the ground.

"What're you so scared for?" You chuckle as you question him. "You a pussy?"

"No!" He quickly pushes away from you, needing to keep his tough guy VK coat on in front of you, reminding himself that you weren't one of his friends. "It's very hard to keep balance!" He exclaims as he falls backward to hang upside down. He flails his arms, returning right side up.

"What's your name?" You ask, stifling a laugh as you watch.

"Hook. James Hook"

"Cause the hook, I'm guessing?"

It'd been a few days since you'd last seen James Hook, your mind constantly trying to find an answer to why he wanted to try the pixie dust and why he spent nearly an hour hanging out with you to try and learn to fly. Maybe he was forming some sort of plan. Maybe you shouldn't speak to him again, maybe he was bad just like the other VKs. Maybe you should stop trusting everyone-

"Hey Y/n," James smiles, appearing from behind you, hand quickly jumping to your shoulder.

You jump, looking back at him as you sit under a tree in the front yard of Merlin's Academy.

"Hey, Hook" You answer, looking back down at your textbook.

He raises an eyebrow, looking down at your spell casting book. "You can call me James"

"Hey, James," you repeat, correcting yourself. "What's up?"

He shrugs. "I was going to ask you that"

He slides down the tree, sitting next to you. "I saw your little stunt earlier in the library." he smiles. "You're a trickster, hm?"

You lightly smile. "Yeah."

"Little sprinkle of that dust and watching people try to fly is amusing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, kinda. Especially when it's assholes" You reply, referring to his VK friends.

He chuckles. "It was funny, really. I like you, you have a sense of humor."

"Y'know," You speak, looking up at him. "My shadow is it's own being, it spies"

He raises an eyebrow. You glance back at the tree you rest your back upon, showing him your shadow standing above you, hands on their hips. He jumps for a moment, looking back at you.

"I don't lie, James" You shrug, watching as the shadow attempts to push you two together. You roll your eyes. "They want us to kiss"

James glances between you and the shadow, face growing red. "I mean, a lot of people call me James-"

"It's not about that." You sigh. "Little mischievous bitch thought you falling into my arms the other day was 'adorable'. You have a crush on me or something, apparently, according to them"

He blinks and shrugs. "I mean, they're not totally wrong." He smiles awkwardly wide, looking for validation. He breaks, disturbed by your silence. "I'd love to be friends with you, at least. You're very intriguing and humorous, and-"

You quickly cut him off. "What? We can't, we can't be friends. You're a VK"

His expression quickly falters as he realizes the predicament.

"But... I shouldn't deny that I feel the same way about you"

He blinks, confused and slightly caught off gaurd. "What are you getting at here?"

"We're star-crossed lovers." You speak dramatically. "We can't be together, yet there's something pulling us together. Even if it's just a silly little crush or infatuation"

He nods. "Can we at least be friends? I promise you, love, I'm not as evil as it seems."

Yeah, friends was an awful word to use when describing you and the infamous James Hook.

Someone call up Anne Marie...

Over the course of the next few months, you and Hook had become true star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet, bound by love, separated by fate. The constellations aligned but the stars between you and James never did.

You wondered why you had to be separated by social norms, why you couldn't be with him because he was a villain. If James was a villain, then you were too for your pranks, there was nothing fair about it.

Even though you'd sucked yourself into a little world of your own, he was there by your side, loving your lips behind closed doors and confined spaces so you wouldn't be caught. God, no one would ever forget it if they found out. A VK and an AK together? The world might as well have ended.

You fly through the forest with James, his fingers tangled in yours as you swiftly pull him along.

"Y/n, slow down!"

"I'm not even going fast, you're going slow!"

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

{ @devondespresso it took me a bit cuz i got a cold but i did it!! Thank you soooo much for the prompt i LOOVVEEDD it!!! It got away from me but i'm really proud of this one!!! }

It's sort of an au mixed with canon. Set after s3 and there's no vecna, so all the upside down stuff is settled and this is where their lives are going (and a little bit of where they've been 😉)! Eddie works at an outdoor haunted house as a scarer in the cornmaze! Steve has a brief panic attack.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN Y'ALL!!!

Steve knew it was a bad idea. Going to a haunted house on a blind date. It's technically not a house, and he vaguely knows the date. Or knew the date. Before she'd ditched him. For her ex. Whom she'd apparently just been using Steve make jealous.

So now here he was. Wandering around a corn maze in the middle of fucking nowhere. In the dark. Surrounded by screams. Of laughter. And terror. And he's taken four right turns now and that can't be right. His chest is feeling a littl tight now. His fingers tingling.

He's not a fan of the dark. And the screams aren't helping. He's fine when he's with people. But the person he'd come with had left him, had had no real interest in him. Just using him. Like always. Who the fuck would have genuine interest in Steve Harrington these days.

He clenches his fist when he sees something in the shadows ahead. It jumps out at the group of girls about 20 feet in front him. They scatter and scream, laughing as they run away hand in hand. The shadow, some creepy fucking scarecrow thing, chases them for a few feet and then stops.

Steve freezes. The scarecrow turns, twitches really, in Steve's direction, arms held out like he's out guarding a field, and then stops moving again. Steve takes a hesitant step. The scarecrow's head twitches, but it stays still. Steve can feel his heart beating in his ears, loud, like a drum. His hand twitches, he wipes it on his thigh and takes another step.

The maze is empty is now, in this area at least. The silence pounding in Steve's ears louder than his heart. He takes a few shallow breaths and starts walking. The scarecrow drops its arms. Steve keeps walking, until his foot hits a root and he trips. His hands hit the ground hard, dirt digging into his palms. A strangled noise crawls out of his throat.

He hears footsteps running toward him. From the direction the scarecrow had been. His heart hammers louder, fingers dig into the dirt as he curls into himself further.

"Please don't- I'm just- I can't-" Steve pants, trying to fend the thing off.

"Whoa whoa hey. It's okay. You're okay. Are you okay?" A gentle, hesitant, hand falls on his shoulder. Steve flinches away, involuntarily, the hand disappears.

"Okay no touching. That's okay. Can you stand? Or like.... sit back maybe? You arm's are shaking pretty bad man. Just try to breathe." A voice says, steady, to his right.

Steve's eyes move in that direction and he sees something on the ground by his hand. Something almost the same color as the dirt he'd fallen in. Steve's blinks, hard, sucks in a few deep breaths. It's a mask. A straw mask. Steve lets out a shuddering breath, lets himself fall back onto his butt in the dirt.

"There we go. Okay. That's better." The same calm voice. And then,

"Harrington?" The voice says, full of disbelief. Steve looks to his right and sees a mop of dark hair and pale skin above an incredibly detailed scarecrow costume.

"Eddie?" Steve feels the tension leave his body almost at once. Eddie says nothing. Just stares at him.

"What?" Steve shakes his head a little, looks into his lap.

"Wha- nothing, sorry. I just- I uh... just a little shocked you remember my name." Eddie says, and it sounds almost like a laugh. Steve frowns, looks at him again.

"We went to school together for like... ever, man." Steve says, still frowning. Eddie shakes his head, wraps his arms around his knees where he's crouched next to Steve.

"No yeah I know. Just... we never talked really. Or anything." Eddie shrugs, he doesn't seem mad. Maybe even seems a little amused.

"Right." Is all Steve can think to say.

"Hey. You think you can stand now? There's some picnic tables right outside here. I can take you. Make sure you make it alright." Eddie pushes himself to his feet, holds his hand out to Steve, smiles when Steve looks up at him. His eyes wide, waiting. Steve swallows heavily, reaches up, takes Eddie's hand, and let's him pull him to his feet.

Eddie guides them out of the corn easily. Let's Steve sit for a minute before going to grab them some water. He comes back with two bottles of water and two corn dogs.

"Thought maybe eating might help." Eddie throws himself onto the bench across from Steve, grabs one of the corndogs and takes a huge bite. Steve snorts a laugh in suprise and grabs the other one, takes a much smaller bite. He watches Eddie eat, his cheeks poofed out like a chipmunk.

Steve waits for Eddie to take another bite, lets him chew as they sit in amiable silence, before he says,

"We have talked before." Steve says, quietly, and takes another bite.

"Hmm?" Eddie hums, his eyes wide, cheeks full, head tilted, he looks a bit like a puppy.

"We've talked. Before. I mean." Steve takes a sip of water, tucks his free hand under his thigh.

"You said we hadn't really talked. But we did talk. A few times." Steve elaborated, smiling down at his lap at the memory.

"Umm. Yeah. Yeah no I know we did. I just-" Eddie swallows, hard, he looks a bit... guilty. He shrugs, takes a drink, picks at the table top with his fingernail.

"I just didn't think you'd remember." Eddie shakes his head, his brows furrowed.

"Didn't think I would remember which one?" Steve asks, trying to coax Eddie out of this shyness. Eddie scrunches his face though, shakes his head again.

"Doesn't matter." He mutters.

"Didn't think I would remember buying weed from you after Billy beat the shit outta me? And the way you gave me a handful of free pain meds?" Steve says, Eddie glances up at him, eyes shining through his bangs.

"Didn't think I'd remember you helping me save a kid from drowning at the pool that summer?" Steve asks.

"He was fine. Just panicking. You did most of the work." Eddie mumbled, his eyes locked on Steve now. Steve nodded, hummed.

"And what about the other time? The first time we talked?" Steve bit his lip, took another sip of water, Eddie staring at him the whole time.

"The- the first time? When- I mean... back then?" Eddie takes a shaking breath, sounding winded the way Steve had been about an hour ago.

"Mhm. Back then. In the woods. At the creek. With the turtles and the crawdads." Steve says, smiles softly at Eddie, watches Eddie blush and look away.

"Kinda hoped you'd forgotten about that one I guess." Eddie whispered, his voice so low Steve barely hears him.

"I didn't. Don't think I ever could. I definitely wouldn't want too." Steve bites his lip, worries it between his teeth. Eddie blinks at him.

"W-why not? I mean you could've-" Eddie snaps his mouth shut, his eyes looking a bit watery as he looks at Steve.

"I'd never do that. I'd never tell anyone. We made a promise remember?" Steve sits his elbow on the table, holds his pinky up, and feels relief wash over him when Eddie smiles.

"Yeah. Just us and the turtles and the crawdads. Just between us." Eddie sets his own elbow on the table and hooks his pinky with Steve's.

"I think about that day a lot. Is that bad to say? Weird I mean? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." Eddie says in a rush, Steve tightens his pinky around Eddie's, hold it fast.

"You don't make me uncomfortable. Kind of the opposite actually. It's always been that way. I feel... nice. When I'm around you. It's like you clear my head." Steve shakes his head, smiles down at his lap. A group of girls run by laughing, hand in hand, stopping by the concession cart. Eddie tries to pull away, tries to hide. Steve keeps their fingers hooked but lowers their hands to the table, out of sight in the dark.

"That's a new one. Usually I just annoy people. Kinda why this is the perfect job for me. I get to annoy people all night." Eddie teases, wiggles his wrist so that he and Steve's hands shake. Steve snorts, shakes his head.

"And yet. You still calmed me down." Steve bites his lip again. Watches Eddie do the same across from him.

"I guess. We keepin this one a secret too?" Eddie asks, his eyes on their linked pinkies. Steve unlinks them, slides his hand into Eddie's.

"I dunno. No turtles around." Steve says, tapping his fingers against Eddie's wrist.

"No crawdads either." Eddie says, his lips tilting at the corners.

"Nope. Just us." Steve confirms.

"Well maybe we should... have a meeting?" Eddie wonders, his voice going a little high.

"A meeting?" Steve asks, frowning dramatically.

"Mhm. At the creek. Get the turtles and the crawdads up to date. Keep them in the loop an all." Eddie explains, his fingers curling up around Steve's wrist, his eyes darting around Steve's face, like he's looking for something.

"We wouldn't want them out of the loop. That'd be terrible." Steve agrees, nodding and wiggling their hands like Eddie had done.

"Mhm. Yeah." Eddie hums, his teeth sinking into his lip to stop the smile threatening to spread.

"EDDIE! BACK IN THE MAZE! NOW!"

Their hands fly apart, Eddie nearly falls off the bench he'd been sat on. He stumbles to his feet and spins toward the shout.

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I WAS HELPING A GUEST IN NEED!" he shouts back, arms flailing dramatically. He turns back to Steve, cheeks flushed red.

"Heh. Sorry. I have to... go. Back to work. But um... we could... I mean if you want. If you were serious. I could- or you could? If you want." Eddie stammers, grabbing for his mask and holding it to his chest as he slowly backs away, step by swiveling step. Steve smiles at him, brightly.

"I'm free on Thursday." Steve says, cheeks hot.

"I love Thursdays!" Eddie yells, looks around, laughs breathily.

"I can pick you up at seven."

"Seven's great! Love seven!" Eddie calls, waving his mask over his head.

"EDDIE! NOW!"

"I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION AND AM GOING OH MY GOOOODDD!" Eddie screams into the dark toward the shouting voice. He waves to Steve, yanks his mask back on over his head, and runs toward the maze.

"See you Thursday!" Eddie yells, turning to wave at Steve before ducking back into the corn. Steve laughs, drags his hand through hair, his palm and wrist missing the touch of Eddie's skin.

He walks to his car slowly, a smile on his lips as he remembers that day in the woods, by the creek, where he met a boy catching turtles and crawdads. The day they played in the water til the sun began to set, catching critters and setting them loose again. The day two sad boys found each other, and shared their first kiss in the creek before running home, laughing into the dark.

[sharkboywrites]

Can you do twst vice wardens (pls replace lilia with silver and ortho with ace) with a male reader that has a habit of not telling people about his various health problems. He has a whole iron deficiency and doesn’t tell anyone until he passes out in the middle of the hallway.

In the middle of a conversation he'll just drop an "Oh, my headaches going down" "you have a headache?" And such.

Thankyou!

"You what?!"

A/N: Hiii so sorry it keeps taking me forever to get to requests. I've been gone for a good amount of the summer on trips and stuff. I'm also dealing with some personal things. I made post about it, but for whatever reason it hasn't been seen. Anyways this request is so me, I'm either bothering people about my problems or literally never telling them to the point where it's concerning. I don't really talk about it but I do have some physical heath problems, so this feels nice for me to write.

Male reader, he/him pronouns used, author put his own health issues in just because, headaches, low iron, knee problems, heart problems.

Trey Clover

Trey is a very attentive older brother type, it would be very hard to hide something being wrong from him

But somehow you did

After all, with low iron, you never really know somethings wrong until you stand up

The two of you were relaxing after a lot of baking

Knowing there was an unbirthday party coming up, you decided to help him out

Unfortunately, you did over exert yourself quite a bit

You definitely felt off, but you decided it was fine and that it would probably go away

while the two of you were sitting down and talking, drinking some water, the timer went off

You went to get up and take the treats out of the oven when

uh oh

for a bit your head felt fuzzy, and you went down

To say Trey freaked out was an understatement

He really thought that you died for a minute

after getting you up and sitting you back down in your chair, he got the treats out of the oven himself

Once everything was settled and he made sure you were okay, you got a very lengthy lecture about taking care of yourself and telling people when you don't feel well

After this he gets very protective over you, constantly checking that you're okay and if you need anything

great job, you've activated the "big brother" part of Trey

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie could probably sense that something was wrong with you

Was he going to address it if you didn't say anything? no.

Listen, it's not that he doesn't care about you, it's just that he doesn't want to make extra work for himself

But don't worry, he ends up regretting that decision

When you're laying on your desk in pain

He stops and doesn't know what to do for a hot minute

And then he's off

He's running around the school trying to get what might help you

Water, food, pain meds

You want it? He's on his way to get it

He feels really bad about it later, please assure him

he'll get mad at you if you admit that it's common for you to never actually teel people you're in pain

He's also paranoid from now on

He'll constantly carry ibuprofen on him just in case and is very vigilant of your body language

he's worried about you

Don't scare him like that again please he can't take it

Jade Leech

It was really just a normal day

going to classes, trying to stay awake during lessons, and getting pestered by at least one of the eel twins

While having a nice talk with jade, something started to feel off

your chest felt weird

It didn't hurt per say, but it felt like it was racing

Having heart issues, you immediately knew what was wrong

Jade watched with a curious look as you took your water bottle and took a drink

He questioned if you were alright, and you told him what was wrong

With a calm look on his face, he immediately takes action

Your brought back to the mostro lounge and told to wait patiently as Jade disappeared for a few minutes

He later came back with a small meal for you and more water

He assured you that it had plenty of salt in it to help your heart's hard work and told you to take it easy

Now that he's aware of your situation, he's extra attentive

He may know somethings wrong before you do at this rate

And don't worry, he never doubts you or thinks you're dramatic if you ever tell him somethin may be wrong

Also has liquid i.v ready if you ever need it

He's now the number one person to go to when you're having issues

Jamil Viper

Parties can be overstimulating

So it's unfortunate that Kalim throws one almost every day

After an hour or two, Jamil thankfully found a less crazy sport for the two of you to sit

The two of you talked for a bit, enjoying the upbeat atmosphere

Halfway through talking, your head started to feel fuzzy, but you decided to brush it off and that it would probably go away eventually

Then Kalim called the two of you over

You couldn't figure out what he wanted you for, but the two of you got up anyway

When you stood up, the fuzziness in your head hit ten times harder, and you went down

Thankfully Jamil, with his quick reflexes, was able to catch you just in time

after assuring you were okay, albeit a bit panicked, you admitted you knew something was wrong, but decided to not say anything

And that's the story of how you got scolded by Jamil about taking care of yourself and telling people when something was wrong

He's much more on edge when the two of you spend time together from now on

He's constantly pestering you about how you feel, while trying (failing) to hide his genuine concern

Don't tease him about it, please

Rook Hunt

Lets be honest now, did you really think you could hide something from Rook?

Getting it away from trey? believable. Rook? Absolutely not

He is vigilant, nothing gets past him

Nothing

Even when you think he's not around, he is watching and he will know something is wrong

And the second he realizes your head hurts, he is all over you

Like showering you in concern and affection 24/7

if you were planning on keeping it from him, too bad

He's not giving you the chance

Really, he's treating you like royalty

You're in bed all day, dim lights, water, and any snacks you want

And he's not taking no for an answer

he's an extravagant man, what else were you expecting?

And from now on, he'll constantly be checking up on you

In the most dramatic way possible

He'll gently grab your shoulders and ask if you're okay

And if you aren't he'll grab your hands and with the most dramatic display, be so distressed for you and also praise you for being "so brave"

Such a dramatic man, really, but a dramatic man who's worried for you

Ace Trappola

Joining basketball with the boys sounds like so much fun, right?

Right???

Not really

Especially not when you've got a whole lotta knee pain

But it's alright, just power through it, as most people say

However most people don't realize that that's a bad idea

And unfortunately, you are most people

Forgetting your knee braces sure is unfortunate, although you thought it would be fine

It was not

Especially not when Ace decided to pull an "ankle breaker" on you

And it did just that

But with your knee caps

Listen, Ace may be a total jerk, but hearing a loud pop and then seeing you collapse...

He couldn't help but feel at least a little bad

But limping over to the bench you assured him that you were okay

Once sitting down, you took a deep breath and

another pop

And right back into place

And now you terrify him

This is something you can hold over his head at the slightest moment he starts to be a brat

Him doing the regular teasing? "Remember when you popped my kneecap out of place?"

Don't ever let him live this down

Silver

Unlike other characters on this list, it is so easy to keep something from Silver

It's not that he doesn't care, he's just very tired

But once he fins out that you've had a massive migraine this whole time, he feels so bad

he offers to get you anything you need

And once you're all settled, he looks so guilty

He may start to wallow if you don't stop him

Please stop him

Please assure him that it's not his fault

He really feels bad for not noticing earlier

Afterwards, he makes it clear that you need to tell him when you don't feel good

He also tries to be a lot more attentive from now on

He just feels so bad

This is where you both decided to work on communication skills

From now on, please tell him when you feel bad

he's worried for you :(

I'm finally back yaaay, but I took forever on this. i procrastinate so bad I'm sorry. I threw in my own physical problems too, hope y'all don't mind. ty for reading and gave a nice day :)

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

Late night E.S x fem! Reader

Overture- Your boyfriend of a few weeks comes to visit you in the middle of the night, to use your shower after being unfortunately slimed halfway across town from the fire station

Cws- cheek kissing, pre established relationship, brief sort of mention of sex? No detail, and it’s like one sentence, mentions of ghosts and slime.

A/N- Day 4, I’m about a half hour late but in my defense I spent the day slinging over-priced margaritas and left smelling like Modelo extra. Also pretend Egon is the one covered in slime in the picture, looking up Egon Spengler slime, really only gets you pictures from THAT scene

***

It was almost midnight when someone knocked on your door. You weren’t in the habit of opening the door that late, your apartment wasn’t in the best neighborhood, even by New York standards, but you figured you’d at least check the peephole. Right as you got to the door though, you heard a familiar voice calling your name, and you rushed over. It was your boyfriend, and he never stopped by this late without calling.

“Hey, are you ok? What happened?” When you finally got all the locks undone, you hit a good look at him. His glasses were a little crooked, and he looked like someone threw him in the Hudson, but other than that he looked alright.

“I’m alright but there was a ectoplasmic incident. I was doing a late night call close to here, and I was wondering if I could use your shower before this sets.”

“Oh my god of course, it’s just down the hall, I’ll get you something to drink for when you're done.”

“Thank you, Y/N, I really appreciate it.” You stopped him for just a second as you used your thumb to wipe off his cheek so you could give him a quick kiss.

“It’s no problem, go ahead.” Instead of moving, he stopped to put shoe covers over his boots. He didn’t want your carpet to get slimed. He really was the sweetest under that needlessly formal exterior.

He took his shower, and you got a soda for him out of the fridge before going to find something for him to wear. You liked men’s t-shirts anyway, so you got one out for him (even though you really couldn’t imagine him in one), and a pair of pajama pants he could wear.

He came out in a towel, and you could’ve sworn you’d died. Every expression that could’ve been on your face was gone in favor of something between jaw-dropped staring, and mortal terror.

“Sorry, is it alright if I stay here until my under-clothes dry a little bit?” His sheepish reaction to your blatant staring finally got your stupid, broken, brain to process what he said.

“Yes Egon, of course. I’ll get you some stuff to wear.” You came back into the hall with the clothes, folded and ready.

He disappeared back into the bathroom to change and when he came back you were still staring.

“Is something wrong?” He looked down to make sure he’d gotten his clothing back in order.

“No!—No, it’s just I’ve never seen you so casual before. I like it, is all.”

“Oh. Well then—“ he stopped to readjust his glasses, although they were still a little crooked from earlier. You took the opportunity to grab his hand when it came down, leading him to the couch to sit next to him.

About an hour into a movie you were pretending to watch, you noticed something. Now that his hair was fully dry, it was like he was never covered in slime at all, let alone less than a few hours ago.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Your hair still looks perfect, post-slime.”

“Oh, Ray and I made this substance to keep our hair healthy during work and in the lab, it seals out moisture above a certain viscosity. It looks kind of like hairspray, I keep some in the firehouse.”

“You’re so cool.”

“I don’t think that’s the adjective many people would go for—“

“It’s accurate.”you held onto him like a teddy bear, even if only for a second. You didn’t want to overwhelm him. But there was one more thing you wanted to say to him. His clothes were just about dry, and otherwise he was going to leave soon.

“You know, you can—stay. If you want, you know if you don’t have to go back to work tonight.” By the end of your meandering sentence you were more focused on messing with the hem of your shirt than making any sort of eye contact with Egon.

“You would be alright with that?” He said it in a way that was neutral, if not a little stern. Like he was trying to press to see if you’d offered to be nice, or because you thought that’s what he came here for.

“I would, I’d actually like that a lot.” He looked a little bit shocked, and you were immediately worried you came on too strong.

“Only if you want to, of course. I didn’t mean to like, trap you here. And we wouldn’t have to, you know— do anything. I know we haven’t really gotten there.” Suddenly the hem of your shirt was the most interesting thing in the world again.

“That would be nice.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek, and pulled him up from the couch.

“In that case, let’s go to bed.” You had barely led him a few steps, grateful that he hadn’t let go of your hand.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He lightly pulled back on your arm, bringing you back towards him until your back was flush against his chest. Then and only then did he let you continue walking.

[loveandmurders]

Hey sorry I was wondering if you would write a fic about the Sinclair Brothers having twin sons or like maybe triplets. How would they treat them? I've seen sinclair dad's but only with girls and I would just like to them with sons

Thank you :)

-👾anon

Hello sweet love, thank you for this very cute request <3

Hope you'll enjoy this <3

HAPPY FAMILY (female reader x poly!Sinclair brothers)

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of pregnancy sickness, of labour, mentions of a risky pregnancy for reader and the babies, overprotective parents, fluff.

Getting pregnant wasn’t part of your first plans.

You were living with your three lovers and enjoying yourself, doing chores around town and inside the house, having hobbies and sometimes helping to hunt down victims too. But you never saw yourself as a potential mother. It wasn’t that you didn’t like children, it was just that you didn’t particularly feel ready for it. And you were a little bit worried to have kids in the middle of a ghost town with no hospital nearby…

You knew your men would be more than happy to have children though. Bo was a family man and he needed heirs. You sometimes even suspected him to have a breeding kink. Vincent also wanted children, to make sure the family business would never disappear. And he would love to teach them how to sculpt. Lester loved babies and he would adore playing with kids and showing them cool stuff to do.

One morning you felt a little bit sick and weak. You hadn’t been able to stand the smell of the eggs Bo was cooking either, almost making you throw up. The boys had no idea what was going on, but it worried them. They didn’t like to see you ill or hurt. You weren’t sleeping the greatest either, even in their arms. You tried to deny the possibility of being pregnant until your period didn’t show up.

After a few weeks like that, you asked Lester to buy you a pregnancy test and to not say anything about it to the twins. He was really excited but did his best to keep it to himself. He secretly gave it to you and you went to the bathroom. Of course the test came back positive and you stayed for a long time staring at it while being locked up inside the room. You didn’t know how to feel about it. Lester was putting things away in the kitchen but once he was done, he just couldn’t stop himself from finding you. He knocked at the door.

“Hey, baby” he whispered. You got up and unlocked the door for him. “So?” he asked, trying to read your face.

“Les… I’m pregnant” you said without truly realising it and a bright big smile appeared on his face, he even had happy tears in his eyes. He was so full of joy. He couldn’t believe he was going to be a father. He had never been that happy before. He tightly hugged you before kissing you with fierce passion. You smiled against his lips.

“Ya need to tell the twins” he hummed and you nodded. You weren’t too sure how they were going to react but one thing was certain: they were going to overprotect you.

You sat the twins at the kitchen table while Lester was keeping an eye on Ambrose in case tourists came in. The two men were concerned about what you were going to announce because you had this serious expression upon your face.

“So, you know I’ve been a little bit under the weather lately and I can’t stand some smells anymore and all. And well… I’m pregnant” you finally said. You saw the same excitement lit up in their eyes than in Lester’s earlier that day.

“Ya what?” Bo asked with a smile, just to make sure he heard that right

“I’m carrying your child” you repeated and their happiness was communicating. Both the twins were soon all over you, kissing you and stroking your belly. You thought you were going to enjoy the pregnancy if they were all cuddly with you like that.

You had been right about one thing: the Sinclair men were impossibly overprotective and affectionate with you. One of them needed to always be with you. And they forbad you from doing a lot of the chores you used to. They were very gentle with you, trying their best to never do anything that could upset you. You had always felt like the most important person in their lives, but they proved it to you absolutely every day now you were pregnant.

You had been wrong on one thing: it wasn’t just one child you were carrying for them. You started to notice that when your belly got a lot bigger than it should have been for only one baby. You all agreed you needed to see a doctor. Bo was the one to come with you. He was so proud to play the father in front of the nurses and doctors. He was so proud you were having their babies. You all agreed you would never try to know which one of them was the biological father: they were all Sinclairs anyways.

Twins. 

You were expecting twins. 

And you almost wanted to kill the doctor when he told Bo you both would need to be very careful with you because it could be a risky pregnancy, especially because it was your first one. Bo wrapped an arm around your shoulder and very seriously nodded at the doctor. He also asked questions, trying to know how to care about you and his children the best he could. You had never seen him act so grave before. When you arrived at the car, you could tell Bo was tense. He was concerned about you and he was concerned that the twins would know the same fate as him and Vincent.

“They’ll be okay” you told him

“Ya’ll be okay too, darl” he replied and you smiled “Ya’ll go at the hospital, and they’ll care for the babies. And if anythin’ happens… Ya know we’ll always chose ya over the babies” he continued and you grabbed his hand. You shushed him.

“Nothing will happen. It won’t be like you and Vince, I’m sure of it. And of course it's a more risky pregnancy than if it was one child, but I know we’ll be fine and happy” you tried to reassure him.

“Ya’re not the one supposed to reassure me. We’ll take an extra good care of ya” he promised and you laughed, which made him arch an eyebrow at you.

“Not sure how ya can be even more extra with me. Any of you” you tenderly smiled at him and he relaxed at your words. He would hate to know you didn’t feel cared for or loved enough.

“Anythin’ for ya, mamma” he hummed and you blushed at the nickname while placing a hand over your stomach.

Your water broke one morning as you were getting up to grab a glass of juice. Bo and Lester brought you to the hospital as fast as they could, not caring about any kind of speed limit. Vincent was quite upset he couldn’t follow you there, but he wanted the best for the twins. He was so afraid that history was going to repeat itself. He didn’t want to create a small mask for one of his kids, he didn’t want to realise he created a monster with his brothers, he didn’t want you to be put into danger either. He knew that it had been very complicated for his mother and that she almost died. The three men had agreed that they would always choose you over the kids, no matter what. But it still would break their hearts to lose them.

You wished Vincent would have been by your side too, but you hoped you would soon be out of the hospital. You already wanted to be home, in your bed, surrounded by your five men. You knew life was going to be so good. 

The labour went by a lot better than anticipated. 

And the baby boys borned in perfect health conditions. You were exhausted but you asked to see them and Lester and Bo watched them and carried them with such happiness shining in their eyes. Your babies were already so loved. You even forgot about the killing and Ambrose being a ghost town. It was obvious that everything was going to be alright. 

Lester left to call Vincent. His hands were too shaky to send a message and it would allow him to babble even if Vincent couldn’t verbally answer. Vinny was too emotional to even write either so it was alright and he was so grateful that everyone was doing good. He fully let go of his work to finish preparing the house. He wanted everything to be perfect so the babies couldn’t get hurt and you wouldn’t need to think about anything. Vincent wanted you to just rest like you deserved to.

At the hospital, you were too tired to notice how Lester or Bo were reacting with the babies, and a lot of their attention was on you to make sure you were alright. Bo praised you a lot for having done such a good work. And Lester sneaked little chocolates and snacks into your room for you. 

It was when you finally reached back home, you realised how your husbands were reacting to their baby boys.

None of the men couldn’t stand hearing the babies crying. They instantly needed to reach for them and to cuddle them and appease them. They needed to protect the babies from any kind of traumas. They were instinctively caring fathers because they would rather die than reproduce what their childhood had been. No favourite, no scream, no abuse.

Vincent and Bo also refused to separate the baby boys; they wanted the twins to sleep in the same bed. They also tried their best to show the same amount of love to the two of them. They wouldn’t stand the idea that one of their kids would feel like they had a favourite. Lester seemed quite relieved about it. Your husbands often talked together late at night, when you were already resting, to decide what was the best to do for the boys.

You also often found Bo sleeping in an armchair as he had tried to watch over his boys. That way he was ready to take care of them the instant one of them would wake up.

Vincent was also the one taking care of them the most at night because he was a night bird anyways.

Lester was the one who knew how to make them laugh and to amuse them the most. He was good at appeasing them when they were crying too. He let his big brothers be overprotective, so he could be the fun dad. He was also finding them clothes and toys. He was already spoiling them rotten and you were powerless to prevent any of this.

Lester also loved to watch you feed the babies and he was often with you when that happened. And when he wasn’t there, it was Bo because the man wanted to make sure his babies and wife were doing alright. No need to say that Bo and Vincent were the most concerned whenever the boys weren’t eating as much as a few hours ago. You couldn’t stop rolling your eyes at them.

“They’re all right” you always said

“But we need them to be strong boys, and for that they need to eat well!” Bo exclaimed as Vincent nodded in agreement with his own twin.

“They’ll be strong. Have you seen their fathers and mother?” you smiled

The advantage of living with three men was they could take care of the kids and of the house and let you rest. Bo loved to take care of you and to wash you too.

Vincent enjoyed spying on you when you were with the boys. He loved when you were talking to them with so much love in your words and voice. He was so relieved to know that his baby boys were going to grow up in a loving family, even though they were surrounded by killers.

Bo was calling you “mamma” pretty much all the time now.

Lester once asked you how it was to be the matriarch of the family and Vincent was a lot more obedient to you than he used to be. If Bo was calling for him, he wouldn’t move, but if it was you, he was there in a flash.

You became the head of the family and your husbands made it clear that they couldn’t wait for you to get pregnant again because “the twins needed siblings to be protective of”

Thanks to you, the brothers knew that even killers deserve a happy family life.

[bomber-grl]

BOMBER THEY I COME BARING A REQUEST!! PLX BARE WITH ME THO I SUCK AT CORRECTLY FORMATTING THESE🙏🏻 Hiro hamada x gn! Reader hcs/comfort were the readers older brother just sucks n they hate him? Like he gets mad easily, really loud when mad,plays victim n undermines readers issues/achievements bcs their younger? (If the brother could also be a grown adult kinda like tadashi you'll have my soul 🙇🏻🙇🏻)

IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS AGAINST THE RULE WERE IT SAYS IT CANT BE SO DETAILED I'M SORRY!!!I tried my best to keep it as simple as possible (especially considering this is based on my own brother 😞😞) if it is against the rules im so sorry and feel free to ignore it !! TY for ur time n don't forget to drink water !!🙇🏻🙇🏻

Hiro Hamada x Reader with a terrible brother

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader

A/N: Sorry if the title is too blunt, but that’s my take away from your ask and I’m rlly sorry u have a brother like that 😞💔

When Hiro first hears about your older brother and what he’s done it’s most likely a watered down version

Maybe you two were hanging out and you began to rant about how he’s trash and that’s all Hiro knew

But then he finds out how bad the reality is- it’s when you sneak into his room through his window using some gadgets

It’s in the middle of the night and you explain briefly what had occurred

An argument as usual had ensued and your brother was overly loud and brought up how you overact with your issues

This really surprises Hiro but he tries his best to comfort you

Especially since this time your delved deeper into what was going on and what your relationship with your brother truly is

Depending on how you are- he’d sneak down and get snacks, water, play games or watch a movie

Either way, the night ends with you two snuggled under the covers

Hiros usually flustered nature disappears at the sight of you being upset and genuinely hurt over a recurring situation

The night is quiet and the discussion sticks to a few words

However, the next morning you two wake up and head downstairs

obviously Cass is like 🤨

But she’s nicer obviously and decides to give you both some breakfast

I could also see her sending something wrong and so she lets it go but there will most definitely be a discussion later

Then you’re off to wherever you are

It’s the weekend and Hiro knows you’d want to take your mind off your brother

This was the first day of many that Hiro would do to try and cheer you up

Overall, he’s pretty protective and heavily dislikes your brother

Which is an understatement considering you hate him

And honestly? At first Hiro was shocked

He’s the same age that tadashi would’ve been and he could never imagine tadashi being anything but his wonderful self

The thought alone messes with Hiro and he truly begins to empathize with you

Knowing that your achievements are undermined just because you’re younger is insane to him

Tadashi was the complete opposite and would always push for Hiro to improve

He’s the reason Hiro even bothered going to his “nerd school”

He really wishes you could’ve experienced what it was like to have tadashi as an older brother but we’re in the now so he decides to just be there

Whether it’s letting you stay over or bringing you stuff

He tried his best

As well as Cass, eventually the two of you have to explain and she’s more than ok wiht you staying over

Of course with ground rules but they’re easy to follow

Even as his hero persona he’s more than protective and sure he has to help people regardless of

But if he ever runs into your brother, best believe he’s having Baymax fly like 1000 feet into the air and be like “oh sorry it was necessary “

And just be a bitch in total but it’s justified

Might be an over exaggeration but let’s be real

Hiro gets real protective over those he loves and you’re no exception

[likablemuffin]

Its nice that blood is red against snow (Whumptober)

(From: Random ROTTMNT oneshots)

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

Day 19: Blood Trail

So...this hadn't exactly been...the best time ever.

Donnie had said that there was a group of mutants that was stealing things from people and hiding away in a forest near NYC to stash them. Honestly, the fact that they hadn't been caught yet was quite impressive, considering the fact that Donnie was able to so easily find out basically everything about them.

So, even though it was in the middle of the winter and there was snow everywhere, the Mad Dogz set out to stop the criminals. And honestly? It wasn't going that bad!.... At first... they had found the villains hideout pretty easily, but they did not expect the villains to have literal guns. 

So they were all running around and dodging the bullets. Thankfully, the mutants weren't very good at aiming, considering the fact that they accidentally shot each other a few times. So the turtles were able to take back a lot of the stuff the mutants had stolen. 

"Leo! Portal us out of here!" Raph yells at Leo from across the battlefield. Leo was literally dancing around the bullets, but he stops when he hears Raph calling to him. "You got it, hermano!" Leo opens a portal next to Raph and Donnie, and they both jump through. Leo turns around to see Mikey tying up a whole bunch of the mutants. 

"Hey, Mikey! We gotta go, bro!" Mikey turns to face Leo and starts running over to him. However, the thing that Mikey doesn't notice is that one of the mutants is aiming his gun directly at him. Leo notices though. "MIKEY!" Leo quickly opens a portal behind where Mikey is standing and lunges at Mikey to push him in. 

However, the mutant still fires the gun, and instead of it shooting Mikey, it shoots Leo's leg. Leo cries out as he and Mikey fall into the portal and disappear. The mutants (that are still alive. A few of them were actually killed from their careless shooting.) looks at each other and then the places where the turtles disappeared. One of them, the boss, starts yelling at the others. "WHY WOULD YOU LET THEM GO????" "You think I just let them go?! I didn't know they were going to have portals!" "OH MY GOSH, YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT."

_______________________________________________________

Raph and Donnie stumble through the portal with all the stolen stuff. "Phew! Thank goodness those guys weren't good at aiming those guns!" Raph says as he dusts some snow off of himself. Donnie stands up and fixes his goggles that had partly fallen off his head when he went through the portal. "Yeah. I can shoot way better than those bastards." Raph scoffs and glares at Donnie. "I thought I said no swearing?" Donnie looks at him with an unimpressed expression and starts picking up some of the stuff off of the floor with his metal arms. "Well, I guess I didn't hear you."

Raph groans and face palms. He then turns around to see if Leo and Mikey are in the lair yet. He's very surprised to see that they're both nowhere to be seen. "Hey, Donnie?" Donnie pauses from picking stuff off the floor and turns to Raph with a questioning look. "Yeah?" "Where are Leo and Mikey? Shouldn't they be here by now?" Donnie shrugs and looks at his tech gauntlet trackers. "Well, I suppose we can...see?" 

Raph quickly walks to Donnie's side to also look at the gauntlet. "What? Whats wrong??" Donnie taps on his gauntlet a few times. "They're both out in the middle of nowhere..." Raph screams in Donnie's ear. "WHAT?! ARE THEY OKAY??" Donnie puts one of his fingers on Raph's mouth. "Please don't scream so loud in my ear." 

Raph blushes slightly from embarrassment. "Ah, sorry, Dee." Donnie waves his hand. "Its fine. But why do you think I would know if they're okay or not?" Raph starts running over to the garage, where the turtle tank is. "Lets go find them then!" As Raph runs into the garage, Donnie runs after him. "HEY! DONT START UP THE TURTLE TANK WITHOUT ME! YOU'LL BREAK IT!!"

__________________________________________________________

The first thing Mikey sees after being smashed into one of Leo's portals is Leo himself. Leo's arm is over Mikey protectively, and he's looking at Mikey. "H-Hey bud...you okay?" Leo's voice trembles as he speaks. "Yeah, I-I'm fine. What about you?" Mikey starts sitting up but stops when Leo releases a hiss of pain. "Leo? Are you hurt?" Leo attempts to smile at Mikey, but it ends up just looking like a grimace. "Nah, I'll b-be fine..." 

Mikey huffs. "I know you're lying. What hurts?" Leo looks around awkwardly and attempts to sit up himself. However, he has to stop halfway through trying and lay back down again. "Leg..." Mikey sits up fully and looks at Leo's leg, being very surprised to see that Leo's leg has a bullet hole in it and is currently bleeding everywhere.

"OHMIGOSH- Leo! Why didn't you tell me you got shot?!" Leo attempts to shrug while lying down. "It really isn't that bad..." Mikey frowns. "It certainly looks bad to me!" Leo shivers from lying down in the snow for so long, and Mikey realizes they should probably get into somewhere where there isn't so much snow. 

"Leo? Can you walk?" Leo shakes his head gently. "I-I don't know if I can, Mike..." Mikey frowns again and stands up to view their surroundings. The snow around Leo's leg has turned a dark red, and only from seeing that does Mikey realize how dire this situation is. Mikey crouches down next to Leo. "Maybe I could help you walk? All that I know is that we can't stay here, and it looks like you lost your swords..." Leo attempts to push himself up with his arms, and he does manage to push himself off the ground a bit. "Yeah, we c-can try..." 

Mikey nods and reaches one of his hands out to Leo so Leo can take it. Leo slowly reaches towards Mikey's hand and manages to grab it. Mikey starts carefully lifting Leo up off of the ground. Leo hisses in pain when it gets to him having to actually stand up. "Leo, come on, we gotta go..." Leo looks at Mikey. "S-Sorry, it just really really hurts." After a few more minutes of struggling to find out a good way to get Leo off the ground, Mikey finally manages to help Leo up.

Leo instantly leans almost all his body weight on Mikey, to which Mikey almost falls over. Leo notices this pretty quickly and tries to put less weight on him. "Jeez, sorry, Mikey..." Mikey shakes his head. "No no! Its alright! Now, can we try to walk?" Leo nods, and Mikey starts trying to get Leo to take very small steps. 

Leo almost falls over a few times, but they're able to walk quite a bit from the original spot they were. However, over time, Leo starts to get a bit more sluggish and unable to take as many steps. Mikey notices this and starts walking a bit slower. 

After even more walking and Leo barely being able to keep himself up, they spot a cabin. It doesn't look old, so it's probably someone's summer cabin. "Leo, look! A cabin! Do you think you can make it over there?" Leo shakes from the cold, but he still manages a smile at Mikey. "Y-Yeah, I should be able t-to." Mikey smiles back at him, and they continue walking. 

When they reach the cabin, Mikey checks inside the windows to make sure no one is in it. There isnt. Of course, the door is locked, but Mikey is able to literally just rip off the doorknob. Leo's feet are basically dragging on the ground at this point, and the moment Mikey and Leo enter the cabin, Leo falls. Thankfully, Mikey is just barely able to catch him before he hits the floor. "Leo-!" 

Mikey carefully lays Leo on the floor. "Good job, Leo." Leo smiles shakily at him. "T-Thanks..." Mikey takes Leo's medic pouch and starts shifting through it to find something to help Leo. Leo's eyes start to drift shut, and Mikey has to quickly shake him to keep him awake. "Don't pass out on me, Lee!" Leo groans from being shaken, but he nods none the less.

Mikey ends up finding some gauze that he wraps around Leo's leg. Leo hisses in pain when Mikey tightens it, and Mikey instantly feels bad. "I'm sorry, Leo! I'm just trying to stop the bleeding." Leo feebly starts speaking. "T-The bullet..." Mikey looks at him confused for a bit before he realizes what Leo's trying to say. "Yeah, the bullet is still in your leg, but I don't think we have anything to get it out right now...but when Raph and Donnie show up, we'll fix you up as good as new, okay?" Leo gently nods and lays his head on the floor. Mikey sighs and gets more gauze to tie around Leo's leg. 

______________________________________

"What do you mean the trackers stopped working?!" Raph shouts from where he's driving the turtle tank. Donnie groans and yells as loud as he can across the tank. "I DONT KNOW WHY! THEY JUST STOPPED WORKING!!" Raph stops the tank and gets out of the driver's seat to walk to Donnie's side. "Do you think it's because of the snowstorm?" Donnie starts basically punching his tech gauntlet. "Probably, and it being a fucking snowstorm doesn't make me feel any better about the fact OUR BROTHERS ARE OUT THERE." 

Raph stands next to Donnie, unsure of what to do for a bit. "Well... maybe there's something outside that'll tell us where they went? This is around the spot that they first showed up after portalling away, right?" Donnie stops smacking his gauntlet screen and looks up at Raph. "Yeah, but what could there possibly be that would tell us where they are?" Raph walks over to the door of the turtle tank, opening it and stepping outside. 

He gets instantly hit by a blast of cold air, but he still manages to look around. As he looks around, he notices something that not only makes him feel instant relief but also instant fear.

It was a blood trail.

Raph steps back into the turtle tank. "It's not exactly the nicest thing ever...but I found a lead. I don't think we'll be able to follow it in the turtle tank though." Donnie runs up to Raph. "Really?! What is it?" Raph grimaces and looks behind him through the doorway. "A blood trail.." "WHAT?!" Donnie instantly runs out of the door and starts following the trail. "A- DONNIE!" Raph calls after Donnie as he starts following the blood trail too. "WAIT FOR ME, DONNIE!!"

After Raph finally catches up to Donnie, Donnie takes out two flashlights from his battle shell. One for Raph, and one for himself. They continue following the trail and trying their best to not lose it, which is a bit hard since the snowstorm keeps covering over parts of the trail. And even though it's not exactly the prettiest sight, Donnie and Raph find themselves stressing every time the blood trail stops from more snow covering it.

They continue following it until they come to a cabin, which is clearly where the trail ends. A random doorknob rolls towards Donnie, probably thanks to the wind blowing it. Yep, Leo and Mikey are here.

Donnie and Raph start to climb up the stairs, and Raph knocks on the door. Raph has never been more happy to hear Mikey's voice. "H-Hello?" Raph instantly rips the door off its hinges, not even thinking about the fact that the cabin is probably someone else's. Raph definitely doesn't like the scene that he sees in the cabin. Mikey is sitting on the floor holding Leo, who not only has tons of bandages on his leg and looks to be passed out, but he looks genuinely blue. Which, considering the blood trail and bloody bandages, means that Leo has lost a lot of blood. Which is not good.

Donnie rushes in so fast that Raph can swear he felt wind blow his mask tails as Donnie went by. Donnie skids to a stop at Leo's side and starts to check the bandages on Leo's leg. "Was he shot?" He asks Mikey. "Y-Yes. The bullet is still in his leg." Donnie nods. "Probably a good idea to not get it out without any proper equipment. Good job, Michael." Donnie gently pats Mikey on the head and stands up. "Raph? Could you please pick Leo up?" Raph softly walks into the cabin and crouches down to pick Leo up. 

When Raph picks Leo up, Leo groans softly, which causes Raph to almost drop him from shock. Of course though, he doesn't. They all walk out of the cabin and walk back to the turtle tank. When they get inside, Raph gently sets Leo down and goes to start driving the tank. Donnie walks up to Leo, picks him up, sits down, and holds him. Mikey comes up next to him and sits down next to him, putting his head on Donnie's shoulder. "Thank you for showing up..." Donnie looks over at Mikey. "Of course I showed up. I would never be able to forgive myself if I said you two would just be fine and didn't come to get you."

Donnie turns his head around again and is very surprised to feel Mikey start crying. "Mikey..?" Mikey sniffs and gently takes Leo's hand. "I-I thought Leo was going to d-die..." Donnie leans his head onto Mikey's. "Well, he didn't. And he'll be fine, okay?" Mikey sniffs again. "I know... t-thank you, Donnie..." "Of course, little brother." Raph starts up the tank, turns it around, and starts driving back to the lair. And by the time they get back to the lair, Donnie, Mikey, and Leo are all sleeping together in a turtle pile.

The best part is that Leo is smiling.

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

[luvgavii]

the stranger in the airport - (pg6)

summary: on your way home, your flight is delayed and you're stuck in the airport. little did you know you would end up meeting a gorgeous Spanish man with the brightest smile.

You almost couldn't believe the letters you were seeing on the screen indicating the boarding time to each plane, the plane back to your home city having a 2 hour delay. You were pissed, to say the least, and tired and hungry, the airport food being too expensive for your liking.

Your check in was finished, most of the luggage you had was about to be boarded on the plane that wouldn't fly for another two hours because of the weather.

When your stomach started aching from hunger, you decided you had enough and made your way to one of the cafes, hoping they would at least have a sandwich.

The cafe was crowded by people who were waiting for their plane that most likely had been delayed as well. You quickly ordered a coffee and a meal and made your way to what seemed like the only empty table left. It was a two person table, luckily. You started reading your favorite book while sipping your coffee and occasionally taking a bite from your food.

Just as you were about to finish reading the chapter, you noticed a presence near you, and looking up you were met with the figure of a man who was standing in front of your table.

"Hola, te importa si me siento contigo? Este parece ser el único asiento libre que queda." Hi, do you mind if I sit with you? This seems to be the only free seat left. The man wore a white hoodie and army green cargo pants, his hair was hooded, but you could see his chocolate brown eyes and friendly smile.

You have been working in Barcelona only for a few months, so you still weren't very fluent in Spanish but you picked up quickly what he said, and nodded your head at him, smiling.

He smiled again, and you noticed just how handsome he was when he took his hood off. You went back to reading your book, but occasionally looked up to see if he was looking at you, but he was too busy typing on his phone. 'Probably his girlfriend' you thought.

He must have felt your stare because he lifted his eyes and you two made eye contact, the butterflies setting free in your stomach.

"¿Qué estás leyendo?" What are you reading? He asked you.

"I'm sorry, I recently moved to Barcelona so I'm not really fluent in Spanish." You said almost shying away.

"Ah, I should have known, you look like a tourist." He laughed and you noticed just how contagious his laugh was.

"Really? What is that supposed to mean?" You put your hand on your chest where your heart was, jokingly acting offended. The small talk and laughter with the stranger making the other people in the cafe disappear.

"I never saw another girl as beautiful as you." He said with a honest gaze in his brown eyes.

"Flirting with a stranger? What if I'm a serial killer?" You asked him while taking the last sip of your coffee.

"Pablo Martín Páez Gavira." He held his hand out across the table.

"Y/N L/N" You shook his hand.

"There, we're not strangers anymore, and I don't think serial killers read girly books like that." Pablo said pointing to your book, and you giggled knowing he was right. "Can I buy you another coffee?"

"No, thank you, that would be too much caffeine for me." You said and Pablo looked almost disappointed, looking down at his phone awkwardly thinking you rejected him. "But you could give me your number or Instagram?" You said just as your flight got called on the speakers.

He gave you both as you quickly grabbed your stuff and passport, ready to leave for the gates before Pablo grabbed your hand and stopped you.

"Call me when you get back? I would really like to take you out one day." He said looking you in the eyes.

"Yeah, I'll call you." You gave him a quick hug and left him standing there, in the middle of the cafe.

Now on the plane, before shutting your phone off, you decided to quickly stalk his Instagram, and your jaw dropped as soon as you opened his account.

"14 million followers?" You said your eyes wide. "FC BARCELONA PLAYER?" You almost screamed, making most people on the plane turn to look at you with a confused look on their faces.

[star--anon]

Do you have any headcanons for thominewt?

this took me several days because I was determined to make this post comically long and I genuinely don't remember why

I also ended up not making it comically long

so uh. sorry

anyway, OH MY GOD SO MANY

Newt is exceptionally good at guessing when Minho and Thomas are trying to hide their pain

and he has no issues with dragging them to bed

Minho probably does stupid shit like "birthday noogies" or whatever, which has inspired a 2v1 of Newt and Thomas VS Minho on April Fools

(Minho still wins, somehow)

Thomas gets dragged into things like astrology and fortune telling by Newt

Every time Minho tries to tell Thomas how stupid astrology is, Newt just scoffs and goes, "Typical Pisces behavior" and drags Thomas away

Minho is not a Pisces. Minho is a Libra.

Thomas calls him an "asymptomatic Libra" and Newt is very quick to jump on that train. Minho hates the both of them so, so much.

Thomas is a Virgo. Newt is a Taurus.

Minho can be turned into putty with enough kisses and hugs and gentle touches. It takes Thomas hours of work, but it's so worth it.

On the weekend, Newt often comes home to a pliant Minho with his face buried in Thomas' chest. Thomas just giggles.

Thomas loves long walks.

Sometimes the three go out together: Thomas strolling down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace; Newt several paces behind, stopping every few seconds to snap a photo of something cool with his fancy camera; Minho several blocks ahead, sprinting like his life depends on it, doubling back whenever he gets too far away.

Thomas and Minho are on piggyback duty if Newt's ankle ever acts up in the middle of a walk

Thomas once fell down trying to pick Newt up, so piggyback duty has mostly been delegated to Minho

Speaking of which, two of the rooms in the house (one of them is Newt's bedroom) are padded with extra insulation to keep it nice and warm during the winter because the cold messes with Newt's ankle

Minho carries heating packs in his pockets at all times and rubs them against Newt's ankle whenever the pain gets unbearable in public

Sometimes it helps, mostly it doesn't. Newt appreciates the effort.

Thomas tries to fight doctors who are reluctant to prescribe medication and/or painkillers.

Thomas studied law and is not afraid to use his Master's.

Newt wanted to get a bird, Minho wanted a dog, and Thomas wanted a cat. They compromised and bought fish.

Newt has names for each individual fish, Minho named all of them Guppy, and Thomas' names for the fish change with each conversation.

Newt prefers baggy clothes and often just steals Minho's stuff because Minho is SO FUCKING JACKED- ...because Minho's shoulder span is so much wider than Newt's

the only issue is that Newt is about three inches taller than Minho, so Minho's "big shirts" are like baggy crop tops

Thomas, who is more Newt’s height, starts buying clothes that he knows Newt will like and smirks whenever it disappears.

When the three go shopping together, Newt often shoves clothes that he wants to wear into Minho and Thomas' carts.

Thomas and Minho like to make bets with each other like "He'll take this one within a week."

[goatcheesecak3]

Please write a "meet the parents" situation for rodrick officially meeting his partner's parents, I live for him actually trying so he could make a good impression >_<

#

Hello! Sorry this took a few days, but here it is!

Rodrick fished around in his drawer, desperately in search of his church clothes, the only things he had that weren't band shirts and skinny jeans. Tonight was a huge deal. He was finally going to meet y/n's parents. A formal dinner wasn't exactly in his comfort zone, but he was confident that he'd mage a good impression. He'd had a week to plan, he'd even swallowed his pride and asked his mother for help with conversational tips and how to impress parents. So, with a neatly pressed shirt on and a pair of smart looking shoes he'd borrowed from his father, he set out in his van to y/n's house. Although, he had one very important stop to make on the way. He made a small detour to a shop where he purchased some flowers and a bottle of wine - a nice bottle, a fairly pricey cabernet sauvignon - not the cheap stuff he usually got for himself. He knew middle aged people were always impressed when a young person turned up with a gift.

He parked just round the corner from y/n's house, unsure as to what her parents would make of the beat up white van with "löded diper" crudely spray painted on the side that he would often chauffeur their daughter around in. Walking up to the house he revised the tips his mother had given him. Be polite, smile, offer to help. Piece of cake.

He straightened himself up, and rang the bell. A woman in a neat blouse answered with a welcoming smile,

"You must be the famous Rodrick, come on in, I'm y/n's mother, (your mum's name)"

"Hi, it's lovely to finally meet you. I hope you like cab sauv and peonies," he smiled, handing y/n's mother the gifts.

"Well aren't you just a dear"

She escorted him to the dining room (before disappearing into the kitchen) where y/n greeted him with a smile.

"The wine was a nice touch" she winked at him, before giving him a brief kiss on the cheek.

"If I'm being completely honest, I'm absolutely terrified for tonight" he whispered, "I really hope they like me"

"You've got nothing to worry about baby, trust me, they'll love you"

At that moment, y/n's father emerged from the kitchen, he smiled reassuringly at Rodrick

"You certainly know the way to a middle aged woman's heart, lad" he chuckled, placing a firm hand on Rodrick's shoulder.

Rodrick was perplexed, which y/n picked up on

"He means you impressed mum" she giggled.

Rodrick breathed a sigh of relief

"Relax, boy! You don't need to be so nervous, we don't bite" y/n's dad said.

This certainly was going better than expected - almost too much better. Rodrick figured that y/n must have buttered up her parents real good, maybe even embellished some of his better qualities a bit, but that only added pressure. He was so sure that if they knew what he was really like they'd never approve of him, and how on earth could he live up to the perfect gentleman that her parents so clearly thought he was? He was left with only one option: to fake it. It was a foolproof plan, in front of y/n's parents he would no longer be Rodrick, drummer and founder of löded diper, he would be Rodrick, the academically talented, responsible young man.

"Do you need help setting the table?" He asked politely

"Haven't you got him well trained," y/n's dad joked to her, "it's alright son, just take your seat, me and the Mrs will sort that out"

The table was laid, the food placed neatly in front of the four, and Rodrick's wine had been poured into glasses for everyone. Rodrick made sure to compliment the food, and take small delicate bites, rather than scarfing it down like he did at home.

"So Rodrick, tell us how you and y/n met," y/n's mum enquired.

Rodrick's heart began to race. He couldn't possibly tell them that they met at a basement punk show where his band was performing, that wouldn't be very responsible-young-man of him. No problem, he had the perfect lie.

"We met in the... library, yeah that's right, the library. Can't get enough of that place with all it's uh.... books and... stuff"

Y/n shot him a confused look, but didn't say anything.

"Oh, well that's nice" y/n's mum said, but something was off. Did she not believe him? Was that not impressive enough? He had to step up his game.

"Yeah, it's really nice. You know, that's just the sort of thing me and y/n like to get up to together, studying, reading the classics and not staying out later than 8:30. Isn't that right y/n?" He said, stumbling over his words as he did.

Y/n's brow furrowed as she uttered a less than confident "Uhuh..."

"Right then," her dad said, feigning politeness.

It was no use. No matter what he did, Rodrick couldn't hide the fact that he was never going to be the type of guy parents like. He couldn't even fake it. He was more than embarrassed, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Looking down, desperately trying to hide his red cheeks, he mumbled some excuse about needing to check if he'd locked his van, then he legged it out the door, leaving a very confused y/n and her parents. He just had to get out of there.

"Y/n, sweetheart," y/n's dad said, "what in the fresh hell just happened?"

"I'm wondering that too," she replied, standing up from the table and heading to the front door, "I'll be right back".

She jogged down the road, where she found Rodrick sat on the floor leaning on his van, his face firmly planted in his palm muttering "you idiot" to himself.

"Uhhhh.. Rodrick? You wanna tell me what that was back there?" She asked, startling him slightly.

"I'm sorry, y/n, I really tried. I'm just not the sort of guy you bring home to your parents. They saw right through me." His gaze directed strictly towards the ground, he was far too humiliated to look at her.

"Yeah, no shit they saw through it Rodrick, I've told them all about you. They know you're not some goody two shoes bookworm"

"They do?" He lifted his head up slightly

"Of course they do," y/n said, sitting down next to him and taking one of his hands.

"They know all about the band, the fact that you hate studying, they even know that you taught me how to shotgun a beer"

"Wh... what?!" Rodrick spluttered, genuinely surprised, "why the hell did they even let me in their house?"

Y/n threw her head back laughing.

"Babe, my dad was in a punk band when he was our age, that's how he and my mum met. They like the fact that I'm not so uptight since meeting you, they say we remind them of themselves when they were younger"

"Wait... really?"

"Really, doofus" y/n smiled, giving Rodrick a playful jab in the arm.

Rodrick smiled, and planted a small peck on her cheek.

"I guess we better go back in and try again huh?" Y/n said, helping Rodrick to his feet

"Lead the way babe".

Upon returning to the dining table, Rodrick composed himself, let out a deep breath and finally spoke.

"I'm sorry about before, I'm not a book guy, I'm the drummer in a punk band called löded diper, the last book I read the whole way through was a beano comic, and I feel naked without eyeliner. So, that's it. That's the truth,"

Y/n's parents were silent for a second, before erupting into laughter.

"Well why didn't you say so!" Y/ns dad said, "Come on son, sit. Tell me about this band of yours..."

The rest of the evening flew by, y/n's parents reminiscing on anecdotes from their youth, while indulging in y/n and Rodricks more recent stories. It would appear that Rodrick couldn't have been more wrong, he was exactly the type of guy a girl brings home to her parents.

A/n hope you enjoyed :^) requests for fics / hcs are still open (sfw only)