#[loud truck blares horn passing by]

[dabihaul666]

Great time to be a fucking "my favorite teams are looking super ultra mega scuffed going into the worlds stage" fan, which i of course am fucking not

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Hey, remember that ask about humans are cute au with the kidnapped baby, can you do it for the autobots please. Also, I have a feeling that soundwave kidnapped the baby from the autobots.🤭

Raoul's sister was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

Now look, that sounded bad but honestly? He deserves it, he really does. Because what kind of fucking idiot loses a baby!?

This idiot, that's who.

Now, the day had started out great. Raoul and his little niece, Clara, had been strolling around town. Well, he'd been strolling, she'd been in the stroller that he had been pushing. Anyway, semantics. It had been sunny outside, the sky littered with small, fluffy white clouds that drifted on by in the gentle breeze. An ideal day day for taking your baby niece for a walk. Raoul had practically been on his knees, asking, no, begging his sister to allow him to take Clara out on a walk.

Please please pleaseeeee, it will be their first uncle/niece outing and will be a great memory! Not to mention that Clara barely knows him. They never hang out! How is he supposed to be the super fun awesome uncle he's meant to be if they never hang out?

His sister, either tired of his pleading or deciding that it was a great idea, finally gave him the okay, trusting that at the end of the day her brother would bring back her daughter. Neat! Raoul could totally do that!

He shouldn't have jinxed it.

Like Raoul said, the day started out great! Clara had been a real peach all day, happy as a baby could possibly be. Really, she was an angel. Didn't get fussy even once, not even when a truck blared its horn while passing by or when old ladies stopped to coo and fawn over her. She had taken it all like an absolute champ. One of the ladies had even allowed her to pet her dog! Kids love dogs! Great. Fantastic! Clara had been so happy. Raoul's sister would love to hear about it once she was done strangling him.

So far so good.

They had then gone to the park to watch the ducks. Another great hit, as Clara had clapped her hands and made some happy sounding gurgles. Raoul had even had the foresight to bring some bread to feed them, allowing them to get a closer look. One duck had practically taken the bread straight out of his hand, something which had made Clara squeal with glee. Man, Raoul had been so proud, feeling like the Best Uncle in the World.

After all that excitement, Clara grew drowsy and the Best Uncle in the World decided that it was now time for a nap.

Taking a seat at a bench that was conveniently placed in the shade of a tree, Raoul had tucked his niece in. She fell asleep after just a couple of minutes of him softly rocking the stroller. Awesome kid, really.

Now, here's where he messed up.

You see, Raoul may have fallen asleep. Just for a minute, he swears! He hadn't meant to, it just... happened. One second he was flashing a smile at a group of girls passing by and the next he was startling awake with a loud, snort.

He had looked around, mind still fuzzy from sleep and eyes bleary. He smacked his lips. Stretched. Checked the stroller. Yawned. Scratched his neck- Wait. Raoul turned his head so fast that it gave him whiplash.

The fucking stroller was gone.

Jumping to his feet and spun around in circles, Raoul desperately looked for the yellow stroller and his niece, hoping that maybe it had just rolled away on its own. The ground was flat but it was still a possibility in his mind.

Nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. It was just Raoul and a couple of waddling ducks. And unless ducks were organized kidnappers, they were just as confused as he was.

Now, Raoul would have liked to say that he reacted calmly and with grace. That he had immediately gone to the nearest police station and asked for help, organized a search party. Maybe found a phone booth and explained the situation to a 911 operator. That would have been the smart choice.

Raoul had never claimed to be a smart man.

What he did instead was spend about half an hour, running around the park like a headless chicken, screaming his niece's name while checking the bushes, searching the trash cans, even climbing trees just in case a bird had taken her. Strangers passing by had given him odd looks, with mothers telling their children not to stare at the strange man.

Not his proudest moment.

30 minutes later and still no Clara, Raoul finally decided that he needed help. And who you gonna call when you lose your niece in the park?

Your best friend of course.

Tracks arrived only minutes later with several autobots in tow. Raoul rushed towards him and the moment Tracks transformed into root mode, he slung his arms around his friend's leg.

"You gotta help me, Tracks! I can't find her anywhere!" he cried out, practically hysterical. "Someone took her and I am the Worst Uncle in the World for letting it happen!"

Feeling sympathetic, Tracks gently patted Raoul's shoulder and flashed him a reassuring smile. "It's going to be alright, pal. If someone really did take her then we'll find them real quick. She'll be back before you can say 'Vector Sigma!'"

For a moment, Raoul's felt hope surge in his heart. Then Bluestreak had to open his stupid mouth.

"Uh, guys? You might wanna look at this." The autobots and Raoul gathered next to Bluestreak who pointed at a footprint on the ground. A very big footprint. Raoul made a noise halfway between a squeak and a scream. "Unless we're suddenly in the business of stealing babies, I think we've got a decepticon problem on our servos."

"Bluestreak, shut up."

Raoul would have agreed with whoever said that but he was too busy imagining for what nefarious purpose the decepticons would kidnap an innocent baby. Ohhhh, his poor niece!

Meanwhile, back at the Nemesis;

"We should paint the nursery red. Like true decepticon optics!"

"You fool, that's the color of human blood! Not to mention the autobot symbol. Do you want them to grow up to be an autobot sympathizer?"

"Then let's go with purple!"

"The walls are already purple, idiot!"

"A different shade then! How about a softer lavender?"

"Booooring! What about orange?"

"Like the Ark? Pfft, fat chance!"

"I still say we paint it green."

"No, blue! Then we can paint little clouds too!"

Soundwave shook his head at the bickering between his fellow decepticons before once again focusing on the infant in his arms. Waving one big finger in front of her face, he felt his spark warm up with joy as she laughed and reached out to grab him. Such a fierce little child. She would fit right in with the decepticons.

[younmexreaders]

~~ Mako x Reader 18+~~

Death with Benefits

You have died and Death himself decides to give you another chance. For a small price.

Fem Reader/Skeleton OC | 1.4k words

Includes:

Ecto Body parts

Reader Death (on screen this time)

Car Accident

Tentacles

The fields outside the city stretched for miles, grass illuminated as it waved in the wind, making the expanse shine. The great mountain housed the small cabin of a rogue Reaper. He lived alone, he worked alone.

You heard many stories about the creature, curious as to what it looked like. No one, save the dead, ever actually saw the being. You assumed he was a spirit, like a ghoul, more spectral than anything else. Possibly glowing so he could see where he was going in the dark.

You laughed softly at the thought, erasing stray lines from your sketch of the spectrum. You imagined he would look like he was rotting, then you imagined he would look gaseous.

Basically, there were too many possibilities, and you tried to draw them all.

You sighed and set the sketchbook aside. A scramble of different elements clashing horribly in line art alone.

"Ugh... I need to take a break..." You huffed, upset. You walked out on the town. City lights blinded the night, scaring the stars from the sky leaving a blank, dark blanket of nothing. The sounds of traffic and loud, bass heavy music drowned out the natural sounds of nature. It upset you even more than your lack of inspiration.

You grabbed your motor bike and aimed for the great woods where the reaper was said to live. You got on to the highway, riding silently, your thoughts wandering. The loud blare of vehicle horns broke your thoughts. You flinched, looking up at the blinding headlights of an oncoming truck. You screamed before everything went silent.

You awoke with a start, screaming and shooting upright, looking around to find yourself in a small, wooden cabin. The furnishings were comfortable and simple. The home looked barely lived in. The bed you laid in was neat and small, soft covers in shades of minty green ensconced you.

You stood slowly, dropping the sheets around you, wondering if it was all just a dream.

The room around you held many recently used items. Mangas strewed a messy desk, half of them you couldn't read the titles of, the other half you could tell the contents of just by seeing the bare women on their covers.

You snickered to yourself, reaching to take one of the hentai mangas.

"Oh, you're awake." A voice said monotonously. The voice made you drop the book.

"Who said that?" You asked as you spun, looking for the source. A tall cloaked figure stood in the faint candle light of the cabin. His hood covered his face, large skeletal wings folded neatly behind him. You gasped softly, stepping back, panicking.

"Oh my god, what are you!?" You shrieked.

"Calm down, or I'm kicking you out." He warned, walking past you and making the bed you mindlessly unraveled.

"W-what are you though...?" You asked again. He scoffed quietly, peeling his hood back and looking at you. The lights in his skull focused on you, the cracks running down his cheeks glowed faintly with the souls of those he's captured trapped in an eternity flowing as a personal magic through his bones.

"I'm a reaper." He answered simply, folding his arms. You studied him, pursing your lips slightly. He stared at you, silent, growing impatient.

"I gotta say, I'm disappointed." You admitted.

"By what?" He frowned.

"You're so simple..." You sighed. The Reaper raised his uncanny and expressive brow at your statement, his wings twitching.

"Simple?"

"You're just a skeleton! I was hoping for whisps and colors and... well... complexity." You explained. He shook his head slowly, walking past you. You could hear a ghostly chuckle as he passed you. A shine of emerald green flitted through the room, the source behind you making odd noises.

"How is this then?" He asked. You turned and stood stunned, finding the tall skeleton changed into a sickly green, flesh dropping undead. You flinched, stepping away.

"I prefer the other form..." You whined. He changed back, the flash blinding you, hiding his transformative secrets from you.

"You can call me Mako," He opened the dark wooden door for you, gesturing outside, "I can take you home." You remembered what you thought you had dreamt.

"Wait, did the truck actually hit me?" You finally asked. Mako smirked, closing the door.

"I thought you had forgotten. Yes. You were hit. Your soul is pretty powerful, though. I didn't find it fit to take it from you." He seemed unfazed by the whole situation. You wondered if he did this often, and if so, why?

"O...kay... do you know where I live?" You changed the subject. Mako leaned on the wall, glancing at the frame beside him. He took a moment to fix it before answering you.

"I don't... I took you from your funeral."

"Then why would you take me home?"

"You're going to your new home. Ilfalia." He took his scythe, bracing it before your neck. You gulped, leaning away from the cold metal, "If you don't want to go there, I could always take you myself."

"M-maybe we could work something out? I-I like it here...." You muttered. Mako paused, lowering his scythe.

"Y-you do..?" He asked. You watched his stone, mental wall crack at that statement.

"O-of course... It's really nice here." You reiterated. Mako looked you over, spying the table of books behind you. He smirked and snapped his fingers.

"Then I have a proposal for you."

"Name it."

"You can stay if you reenact my books with me." He offered. You knew exactly what he meant, blushing and pointing at the dark robes on his body.

"C-can you even do any of that?" You asked. Mako nodded, a wide smile stretching his skull. He pulled his robe off and showed you exactly what his captured souls did for him. He manipulated the deep green, almost liquid substance to exit from his fingers, coiling it on his back and on the front of his pelvis.

Lengthy, slimy tendrils whipped from his back, gripping your wrists and raising you into the air. He hummed and toyed with the sensitive piece at his base.

"What do you prefer? Long or thick?" He smirked. Your mind was blanking, you couldn't believe what this creature of death was doing to you.

"I... I don't..."

"Aw, blanking? Hehe, I'll just do both~" He decided, molding his piece into the perfect size for you. He took your hips and lulled his long green tongue out of his sharp jaw, licking up your body as he thrust roughly into you.

You gasped, his large piece stretching you as he pushed himself in without hesitation. His tentacles trailed down your stomach, teasing your clit and entering your behind. You struggled against the feeling, uncomfortable with the tentacle writhing in your crevice. You let a choked moan when he pulled back and slammed back in, grunting happily.

He dropped you onto him, chuckling at your squeaking reactions. His motions were harsh and unforgiving on your tender pussy. His appendage slipped deeper into your behind, writhing. You grit your teeth and arched, pressing against his rib cage.

"Oh? Do you like that..~?" He chuckled bouncing you harder. You mewed sweetly.

"Y-yes! Yes, I love it! Ahhh..." You broke, begging for more.

Mako laid you down in his bed and railed you like no other. His long, iridescent tongue hung out of his mouth. His heavy, lustful breaths brushing your neck. You stared into his deep darkened depths, watching his green flames flicker over your body, watching every creamy inch bounce under him.

"M-mako...! I-I'm gonna come..." You panted, arching and tightening as the waves of heat crashed over you. Mako groaned loudly, releasing his reaper liquid into you. His strange, effective biology driving you to the most intense orgasm you could remember, stealing your thoughts and catching your breath.

When your mind returned, Mako was collapsed beside you, his wings twitching. You glanced at him, panting, smiling.

"You alright?" You asked with a light laugh. He nodded silently, face down in his pillows.

"I don't want to move..." He muttered.

"I can't feel my legs, haha." You snickered, rolling onto your side and wrapping an arm around him.

"Good." He huffed, his body relaxed to the point of paralysis. You hummed and dragged your finger along his spine.

"Mind if I sleep here?"

"Of course not... You can stay here as long as you like." He offered. Mako finally urged himself to meet your face with a chaste kiss, smiling. You nuzzled his neck and curled up happily, sleeping soundly beside him.

[newedensgarden]

TRIGGER WARNING

August Seed dated his girlfriend Blake, who he now only refers to as Parasite Eve, since they were practically preteens. When she turned eighteen, she found out that she was pregnant. So, he did the only thing he knew. He put a ring on her finger and swore to protect the family above all costs. At the time, nobody knew just how deep this promise ran. After a very long pregnancy, Elizabeth 'Liz' Angellica Riley-Seed was born, taking her mother's middle name was well as the first names from her grandmother and aunt. The perfect embodiment of all of August's favorite three women. As if waiting to see him have a family of his own or perhaps waiting to gift their names to the little girl, Angie passed away and his grandmother soon followed her in death. August invited Parasite Eve to live with him inside New Eden, not yet known as the Garden.

The new Riley-Seed family had about nine beautiful years together. Playing in the gardens, teaching her how to paint and write and sing and dance. Elizabeth wanted to do anything creative she could get her hands on. She liked anything pretty, but also greatly valued the quiet of nature. August's favorite activity to do with his daughter was sit by the Henbane River and simply watch the water, clouds, and creatures drift along. If little Liz was not hooked to her father's hip, she would be hanging on her mother's back. It was an ongoing joke that the child would never have to walk because everyone carried her. She was the Queen of the castle, after all. Everyone's favorite.

It was Elizabeth Jr's ninth birthday. Only the closest to the family were invited, including the Seed siblings, Auggie's band, and one or two of Parasite Eve's closest friends. They were deciding to celebrate in Australia so that August could show Elizabeth and his wife the city of Victoria, Hamilton where he was born and raised. Trying his best to replace the bad memories he formed in his childhood with good memories from Elizabeth's childhood. Hamilton is a city in south-western Victoria, Australia, at the intersection of the Glenelg Highway and the Henty Highway.

They lived out in the country but close to the highway, making it easy to go back and forth from the city. Everyone was busy setting up while Mom and Dad were inside prepping the perfect pink cake. Her favorite colors are pink and 'aminol' as the nine-year-old called it, just like her mother. August Seed stepped out of the front of the house with cake in hand and looked around. He was ready to sing, but the birthday girl was nowhere to be found. He noticed some of his guests beginning to get drunk, or so he assumed by the flask they kept passing around. He later found out that this was what John had brought since he wasn't crazy about celebrations or parties. Auggie went to ask where the birthday girl was but as soon as the first words came out, they were drowned out by a loud truck horn blaring. He dropped the cake and jumped over it, sand knocking up onto the pink frosting as he ran to the highway intersection.

He had not made it in time, despite being the first one to reach the asphalt. Nobody was watching her, and she had found her way into the road. Her tiny body was lifeless, her face unrecognizable because it was covered in blood. He screamed out in pure agonizing pain, holding her body to his chest and soaking the blue button-up. The truck driver stepped out to check on what he hit, calling out to say it was a raccoon or something. The driver stepped closer, horror crossing his features when he realized it was just a little girl, not a critter at all. The man looked down, putting his chin to his chest, and going to apologize. August stood, hiding their daughter against his chest before the mother of his child could see the damage done. August took out the knife in his pocket, still with pink frosting on it from the cake coverage and plunged it into the side of the driver's throat, thus causing the man to bleed out. This was August's first official murder. Abe and John hold the screeching mother back so she didn't see the child's face. Only her soaked brunette hair and cheetah print romper.

The parents went into the house with their deceased daughter and sent everyone home, locking themselves inside. August set his daughter's body down on the rug. The mother and father surrounded their baby girl for the last time, taking in everything that just happened. Mourning their nine-year-old when they should have been celebrating her birthday. In a moment of panic, August knew what he had to do. It was the same thing he did for Angie several years prior.

A doll he had made for Elizabeth for her birthday, a wet rag, and a shovel. He returned to slowly wipe the blood away from his daughter's delicate porcelain face. It took a good while, but he managed to get her cleaned up. He then picked her up again as he always had and held her against his chest, carrying her to the makeshift cemetary for New Eden. Many pets had been buried back there, but this was going to be slightly different. They jokingly called it the Pet Cemetary but the joke would perhaps now take on a seperate meaning.

August dug the grave, the mother hid the the truck driver's body and busied herself stashing his eighteen-wheeler, and everyone else was sent home. August placed his daughter into the grave and set the doll beside it. Removing his shirt, he smeared the blood from the rag used to clean her face across his chest, arms, hands, and abdomen. Then, he began to chant. [Damballa chant explanation in another blog found on my profile.]

After speaking a French-Haitian spell, he waited. And waited. And waited. The sun went down, the tiny body was covered in white lace, the gravesite was covered, and the doll was placed into Elizabeth's bed tucked in. A single window was opened than closed. The doors were all locked. The mirrors were covered by blankets. Every clock was stopped in the house. And a family mourned, but August waited. And waited. And waited. And after what seemed an eternity, the doll's eyes opened bright and blue. The doll's porcelain mouth struggled but eventually opened and the faintest voice escaped. "Daddy?"

  - - - - - Her spirit was now officially inside a little doll that August had made for her birthday. Just as Angie was stunted at a young age mentally, so too would Elizabeth forever be stuck at the age of nine. Something inside August broke. He wasn't as smiley or as talkative as he once was. He changed the name of the compound to New Eden's Garden and found himself fiercly protective of his family - not only his daughter, but the Seed siblings and the legacy they would leave. Many didn't question why he started carrying a doll everywhere after death. They knew what he was capable of and blamed the odd behavior on grief over his daughter. The doll looked like his Liz, so everyone thought he was just going through something. However, Elizabeth was not just a doll. They continued trying to live life normally. Going to the Henbane river and watching the water, clouds, and creatures drift by. Carrying her on the hip or giving her a piggy back ride. Letting her explore all things creative or pretty. Sewing little animal prints and pinks for her. She enjoyed walking the trails and looking at the sky, chasing butterflies. Pure innocence inside a small porcelain body.

On the anniversary of her birth and death date the next year, August has an IX on his bicep, quite large. In roman numerals it stands for the number 9 but to him it is a constant reminder. September 9th is when his daughter Elizabeth was born and nine years later on this same day is when she died. So, nine is a very important number in August’s life.

In order to 'meet' any of the spirits living and breathing inside these dolls such as Angie or Liz, you would have to be unbelievably close to August as he does not introduce many to them. Not only is he overprotective, but he worries people will think he has lost his mind with grief. Or even worse, they may think they are just dolls.

[camp-wyrd]

My Wyrd Summer

“Daisy, listen-”

“Mother, as I’ve already made clear I’m using the adolescent obstinance strategy known commonly as the “silent treatment.” 

After a moment of silence hung in the air broken only by the faint sound of the radio and the whisper of the tires on the road I added, “Yes, I know by saying the previous sentence that I am breaking the parameters of the strategy. But I’m still holding to the spirit of it as I’m not conversing with and just reiterating my intentions.”

Before mother could add anything else I turned up the knob on the stereo as far clockwise as it would go. The roaring orchestral sounds of Bach filled the tiny sedan that had ben my prison for the last twelve hours, thirty-seven minutes, and forty-two seconds.

Mother turned the stereo back down. “Daisy, I’m sorry that you’re upset. I really feel that this will be good for you. It’s important for you to make some social connections.”

“I have friends,” I muttered while watching the trees on the side of the highway speed by. “Friends, I might add, that you cut me off from so I can go to some summer camp that I know nothing about and engage with a bunch of people that I don’t know.” 

She cut me off from them in a quite literal sense. As an android I have, or rather had the ability to interface with other electronics on various bands. Bluetooth, wifi, cellular, and even radio waves. I could even multitask these. So while eating at the breakfast table I could be talking in a chat room, streaming a movie, playing a multiplayer game, and listening to the news on local radio stations. I could juggle dozens of instances of these at the same time. 

Of course, mother deactivated this in order for me to dedicate all of my processing power to my immediate surroundings. An “enrichment experience” she called it. I failed to see how experiencing fewer things could be enriching.

A hand came down on my shoulder. It was a reassuring gesture, but I didn’t feel reassured, so I shruged it away.

“Yes, Daisy. I know your friends on the internet. They are important to you, so they are important to me also. You will talk to them again. But I let them know you needed some offline time. It’s just… you spend all day focusing on everything except whats going on right in front of you. Sometimes it’s like I have a router rather than a daughter. I fear that you’ll lose your humanity.”

A sudden loud bang as my fist struck the inside of the door hard enough to shatter the plastic and dent the metal behind it startled mother enough that she swerved a foot into the lane to the left of us just as a semi was about to pass us. The driver of the truck blared his horn.

“I’m not human mother! Or did you forget that when you put me together like some twisted science experiment?”

After mother had the car back under control she slapped the console button for the emergency flashers and pulled to the side of the highway. Her foot stomped down on the brake hard enough that the seatbelt dug into my synthetic skin and caused the pain sensors there to register the pressure. Tire squealed and we came to a dead stop in the breakdown lane amidst a cloud of dust.

“Daisy Turing Asimov! I took your physical limiters off because I thought that you were mature enough to handle the responsibility it. But I guess I was mistaken. Daisy, Activate protocol MCX-...”

My eyes went wide and my anger boiled away to fear. I held up my hands and shrunk back against the damaged door. 

“No! Please don’t! I can fix the door. I’m sorry.” I begged before she could finish the activation code. It’s difficult to explain to a biological, but the limiters were uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. When they were active I needed to be careful to regulate my artificial muscle output or the limiter would kick in like a pop-up window in my mind. It’s like sharing your mind-space with a soulless thing that is not you but is you. It’s the me that existed before I gained sentience and reminds me that I’m just a machine. 

Mother took a deep breath and picked up the Diet Coke in the center console. She took a couple of swallows before she answered, sounding a little calmer.

“This is exactly why I want you to get out more. You need to learn what it means to be a person. Notice I said person, not human. What you’re made of isn’t as important as what’s in here.” Mother tapped two fingers on my chest where my artificial heart was located. “But personhood requires more than just self-awareness.”

I didn’t say anything more as mother pulled the car back onto the highway. This time not because of the silent treatment, but because I understood that I crossed a line with my outburst and to say anything more would push my luck.

So I returned to watching the scenery zip by. In the quiet, a thought that had been bugging me since the thought of this journey came back to me. There were two summer camps within an hour's drive of home. In the last half day of travel, we had to have passed by dozens more. (I could have checked the exact numbers if my internet connection wasn’t firewalled.) If the goal was for me to interact more with biological children my “age” then surely any of those would do. (my apparent age that is. My programming has only been active for six years, five months, and fourteen days. But to anyone who saw me I look like any normal thirteen-year-old girl.) 

So just what was so special about this camp? Mother had been tight-lipped on the subject, telling me that it was a surprise and a secret. The only thing I knew was the name.

Camp Wyrd. 

Before she had disabled my ability to connect to the internet I searched around for any information I could find. First off, let me tell you that my brain leaves a Google search in the dust. So the fact that I found nothing was more than a little odd.

While mulling this problem over, we exited the highway. We traveled the secondary roads for another hour before, we got on some country back roads, and finally what I could only describe as “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” dirt roads. The forest around up climbed up to an overgrown canopy. 

Finally, we came to a clearing and a fence. Not some little fence either. Twelve feet high, with razor wire at the top and signs warning of high voltage. Other signs stated the land as being government property and laid out the kind of legal and levels of violence that would be employed against anyone who was foolish enough to trespass. The road ahead was blocked by a gate. To the side of the road was a concrete guard tower. 

I switched from visible light to thermal imaging. I could see two men inside. Noticing us, they began to move around. Switching my vision to x-ray. This allowed me to see the sidearms at their hips, and the assault rifles on racks behind them.

I didn’t know what in the heck this place was, but it was obviously not a summer camp.

I sat up in my seat and stiffened. My emotional routines cycled up to the maximum. “Oh, okay. So this is what a panic attack feels like. Intriguing.” I thought to myself. My heart pumped my coolant through my body faster to compensate for the temperature spike of my artificial muscles drawing more power from my core.  It felt as though I were about to overload and go into shutdown.

“M-mother? What kind of camp is this?”

She smiled and squeezed my hand in her own. “It’s okay dear. You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?” 

I nodded.

The facility that I was created in probably had a fence like this one, but I didn’t know for sure. There were gaps in my early memory as my programming wasn’t as sophisticated as it currently is. All I know is what my mother told me. Some “bad guys” hired her to create an artificially intelligent weapon. But she has a crisis of conscience when that “weapon” started showing signs of self-awareness beyond the scope of what she designed. So she smuggled me out.

“Well, this camp is for… very special boys and girls. The security isn’t to keep you in. It’s to keep others out. The parents that send their children here expect a certain level of privacy.”

“Special? Like me? You mean it’s a camp for androids?”

Mother bobbed her head from side to side. “Well, you are the only android, at least the only one that I’m aware of. But all the campers are, hrm, unique.”

We drove up to the booth. On the other side of thick ballistic plastic, a brick wall of a man in military fatigues sat. His face was as set and serious as the face of a statue carved by some neolithic society that had yet to invent humor. His short, blond hair was buzzed so perfectly flat that it resembled a table.

“Identification?” he asked. His voice was gravely and menacing even through the tinny speaker. Mother reached over in front of me and popped open the glove compartment. Inside was a gray card slightly larger than a credit card and twice as thick. She smiled and held up the card to the soldier before swiping it through a slot on the side. A red LED light turned off and a green one right below it turned on.

“Retinal scan,” the man asked or rather ordered mother.

Seemingly expecting this leaned into an outcropping on the panel which resembled the front of a VR headset. A second after staring into this there was a chime and the gate slid open. I saw her take a moment to blink away what was probably the after-effects of having lasers getting shot into the retina.

“Hello! Welcome to Camp Wyrd. I hope you have a wonderful summer. What’s your name darling” He looked right at me as he said it. The smile that lit up his face made him seem much less intimidating than a moment before.

“Uh, thank you, sir. I’m Daisy Turing Asimov.” I said not knowing what else to say.

The big man nodded, “Well we’re happy to have you, Daisy.” 

We drove inside. Five minutes in we drove up to a large wooden sign with the words engraved: Camp Wyrd.

That was the start of my Wyrd summer.

[fleshphagus]

Every time I re-find out the Recoil guy is from Depeche Mode:

[findmeinasunshower]

𝑺𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓: 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓

word-count: 1.5k

summary: soulmate au in which you don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. cue tooth-rotting fluff.

warnings: none :)

With every year that’s passed only seeing in grayscale, the more people have told you you’re not missing much. New York City is a monochromatic landscape from the skyscrapers to the bridges. Your parents insist that when they met, suddenly being able to see in color wasn’t a huge transition after living in the city all of their lives. 

But you, like millions of others living in this city, long to see the sun set over the Hudson in anything other than gray film. To have a soulmate is a beautiful thing, which is why you’re suddenly rewarded with the ability to see millions of colors when you find them. It’s symbolic; a “seeing the world in a new light” kind of thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit jealous the more of your friends met their soulmates and were whisked away on color-themed dates. 

You shake yourself out of that thought and readjust your bag on your shoulder. As far as you’re concerned, you don’t think you’d be that different than you are now if you could see in color instead. There’s no use dwelling on things you don’t have — High school and the slums of New York have taught you that the world can be a pretty shit place, despite its acclaimed beauty. There’s no use in making it worse by participating in too much wishful thinking. 

But, all that aside...yes. You desperately want to meet your soulmate. You’re ready to know if you’re wearing a red or blue shirt without asking someone else, and to see the bright sunlight as something other than an eerie silver glow. What you’re most anxious for, however, is your soulmate themself. You’re ready to find your forever partner and, after all these years, you’re growing a bit impatient.

You mumble an apology when your shoulder collides with someone and settle in at the corner of the block, waiting for the crosswalk to switch from the hand to the person walking. 

“Look, it’s Spider-Man!”

You blink and turn toward the excited man who had shouted and follow his outstretched finger toward a cluster of buildings down the street. The crowd gathered on the sidewalk starts to cross and you walk distractedly along with them, scanning your surroundings for any sign of the vigilante. You’ve never seen the so-called “Menace of Manhattan” before—only grainy YouTube videos and the occasional split-second interview that reporters manage to catch, only for J. Jonah Jameson to warp his statements later. 

So, you can imagine your surprise when you finally catch sight of Spider-Man swinging in your direction and the world around you bursts into color.

The hero himself is the first thing that changes: His red and blue figure is silhouetted by a bright blue sky, and the windows of the buildings around him suddenly reflect the golden sunlight. You find yourself struggling to catch your breath from shock, and you spin around in a stunned circle, taking in the bright yellow taxis and the red tour buses on the streets around you.

The loud blaring of a truck’s horn snaps you out of your daze, and you realize with a start that the crowd of people that was crossing the street with you is gone. Your eyes go round and you whip around to see the silver grill of a truck barreling down the street toward you. You barely have time to open your mouth to scream before you’re swept up and off of the ground.

You yelp as the world turns upside down and scrabble for a grip on Spider-Man’s shoulders as he flips you both up into the sky. Your yelp turns into a high-pitched shriek when you catch a glimpse of the ground at least ten stories below you and Spider-Man tightens his grip on you at the sound. The two of you fall into a stasis at the crest of his swing, and in the three-seconds of weightlessness you shout in your apparent soulmate’s ear: “Get me the hell down!”

He yells something in response, but you can’t hear it over the wind whistling in your ears as you free fall. 

Your soulmate smells of cheap cologne and the sweet, not-unpleasant smell of sweat. “Are you alright?” he whispers in your ear, and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you at the out-of-breath huskiness in his tone. The feel of his strong arms still wrapped around you aren’t all that unpleasant either. 

You finally lift your head up, leaning back just enough to look Spider-Man in the eye (goggles?).

“I’m alright,” you wheeze, “but I’m never doing that again.” The dead seriousness in your tone draws a small, nervous chuckle out of Spider-Man. He doesn’t release his grip on you, and as comfortable as you are, you’ve only just met this masked man, soulmate or not. 

You clear your throat awkwardly and take a step back, choosing to ignore how his arms remain outstretched toward you even as he lets you retreat. “Thanks for that save,” you mutter. “I owe you one.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Spider-Man clears his throat just as awkwardly as you did. “No problem.”

An awkward silence passes between you as you consider each other. The summer wind is fierce this high up, but carries no chill with it. Spider-Man’s suit is shockingly bright in the daylight, shining red and blue and eye lenses reflecting gold in the setting sun. You turn around slowly and a perfect view of a New York City sunset is laid out below you. The Hudson river glows like molten lava in the setting sun, and the cars traveling across the bridges look like little gold bugs crawling on a branch. 

You hear gravel crunching under Spider-Man’s feet as he comes into view on your right, shifting his feet awkwardly. “Can you, uh...can you see color?” he asks timidly. Unable to tear your eyes away from the stunning view before you, you simply nod. He lets out a long whistle, and you finally glance over to see him put his hands on top of his head as if he were going to run his fingers through it, only to realize it’s covered. “Shit,” he mumbles. 

Your heart sinks into your stomach at what you interpret as disappointment in his voice. You hug yourself and take a step back away from the edge of the roof, casting your eyes to your feet. “Sorry, I know you’re probably disappointed with...” You gesture down at your unintentionally-ripped jeans, ratty sneakers, and jacket stained with who-knows-what New York City gunk. You don’t even want to think about what your hair and severe lack of makeup looks like right now.

“No!” You jump at Spider-Man’s loud protest and the endearing crack in his voice that comes with it. “Uh, no. Sorry, I’m definitely not disappointed. Just...surprised.” 

You snort and shift your (thank god) near empty bag, hoping none of its contents flew out during your insane, unplanned flight. “That’s the understatement of the century.” You gesture haplessly at his masked face. “I don’t understand how this is possible. I’ve seen pictures and videos of you hundreds of times!”

Spider-Man shrugs. “It must only work when you see your soulmate in person.”

You bury your head in your hands and groan. “Oh god, how is this going to work?” You indicate his disguised appearance, causing the hero to gulp nervously. “I mean …” You release another helpless sigh and plop your head in your hands once again.

“Hey.” Gentle fingers curl across your shoulder, leading you to look up. You assume you’re looking into the hero’s eyes through his mask as he shifts his feet uncertainly. After a few moments, he brings his other hand to the top of his head and begins to pull up on his mask. You squeak and move to cover your eyes, but his other hand stops you before you can.

When you look back up, a handsome boy about your age is looking back at you. His brown curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat in an endearing display, and his brown eyes glow caramel in the sun. His mouth lifts into an uncertain smile as he bows his head slightly, clearly nervous. “I’m, uh, Peter. Peter Parker.” 

You swallow nervously and shake your head in disbelief. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whisper.

Peter shakes his head, hand still outstretched towards you. “Yes, I did. You’re my soulmate. And you’re beautiful, and...I want to know everything about you, which means you need to know everything about me.” You feel your cheeks warm at his compliment and he blushes in turn. “I mean, if that’s okay with you of course.” 

The corner of your mouth twitches up at the hero’s bashfulness. His uncertainty definitely is not what you would’ve expected from a superhero, but you’re definitely not complaining. Even if you didn’t know he was your soulmate, you would’ve found Peter to be the most endearing boy you’ve ever met. 

You bite your lip and snag his hand before you can psyche yourself out, squeezing it decidedly in yours. “I’m (y/n).”

Peter beams and squeezes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, (y/n).”

[my-gender-is]

My gender is *loud truck passes by blaring its horn over the sound of my voice*

[dabihaul666]

juns hair is SO DARK its black but when light hits it its like so reddish brown i cant do this i cant do it

[uhgood-dooghu]

Dial Tone [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Namjoon x Reader

Summary Namjoon’s been gone for a week. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

Rating 18+

Genre Smut, fluff, my attempt at crack, established relationship

Warnings Explicit sexual content, phone sex, daddy kink you’ve been warned, dom/sub undertones, begging, edging, orgasm control, dirty talk, use of a sex toy, Namjoon’s packing, OC is a bro girl at heart, self gratuitous porn with no plot

Word Count 2.7k

“Daddy...”

Namjoon almost swerves into a passing truck as your breathy voice fills his car.

Swearing, he composes himself, eyes flitting rapidly between the road and his phone, the Bluetooth allowing a string needy moans to ring out from the speakers.

When you’d called earlier, he’d been in the middle of the Meeting of the Year (trademarked by Seokjin), deep in the throes of negotiations but also riding high on the success of the afternoon. He hadn’t seen the notification until he’d finally left the building forty-five minutes late, waving goodbye to his business partner and waiting for his car just outside the lobby. He’d frowned when he’d seen your name. You’d made plans this morning to call him later tonight, so the timestamp concerned him slightly, but he knew well enough that if there was an emergency, you would call at least 7 times. Probably blow up Seokjin’s phone as well.

Sliding into the drivers seat, he’d connected his phone and pulled onto the street, absentmindedly hitting play on your message.

Thank god Seokjin had declined his offer for a ride.

“Holy mother of fuck,” he exclaims, panic clouding his thoughts before he has the sense to throw a hand out and adjust the volume. Does he know what’s happening? No. But he really doesn’t need the bass bumping your moans through the window for the whole world to hear.

Gripping the steering wheel, he swallows thickly, ears tuning in to the words you start to speak.

“Daddy, I need you,” you whine. “Where are you? You said you’d be done by now–“ You break off with a gasp.

When it hits him, the panic subsides, his jaw locking in place as he maneuvers his way through the evening rush. To clarify, you’d made very specific plans to call him tonight.

Apparently you’d gotten impatient.

The way your voice shakes tells him you probably had three fingers buried in your pussy, trying and failing to replicate what his own fingers are capable of. He listens to you take a few grounding breaths.

“I miss you, daddy. You’ve been gone for so long–oh my god–I miss you touching me.”

Namjoon’s eyes harden and he presses harder on the gas. A horn blares to his left, but he ignores it completely, barely seeing the angry driver flip him off, because his pants suddenly feel much tighter than they did five seconds ago.

“I miss your fingers. And your dick. Fuuuck, daddyyy!”

Your moans start to escalate, chasing after that edge, likely trying so hard to curl your fingers against your g-spot while circling your clit frantically with your free hand. His knuckles whiten around the wheel, his exhale dark as your voice turns progressively more manic, more helplessly panicked, until you cry out in desperation, the way you always do when you’re denied.

Your voice cracks and he feels it right in his dick.

“Daddy daddy, please please please, call me back, please please, I wanna come, daddy, I’ve been so good, please please please, call me.”

Your words slur, voice wrecked, and you let out a final sob before the message ends.

Namjoon sits frozen for a moment, mechanically turning his car into the hotel drive, before he inhales sharply and looks down.

Yep, he’s hard as fuck.

“Shit.”

Pulling up to the valet, he fumbles with his belt, tucking his erection into his waistband with a silent prayer that it’ll be enough to save him some embarrassment. It probably won’t (surprise, it’s actually quite difficult to hide a massive dick, who would’ve thought), but he doesn’t have a whole lot of options. At least he wore black pants.

He grabs his phone and steps out of the car only a little awkwardly, passing the man his keys before making a beeline for the glass doors. Thankfully, the lobby is near vacant as he rushes to the elevator, angling himself away from the front desk. Still, the receptionist raises an eyebrow, so he forces a smile, dimples fully on display even as his eyes stare daggers at the dial above the door. Tapping at his phone, he shoots you a text.

Namjoon: Couldn’t wait for tonight, huh? [6:31 PM]

When the doors finally open, he darts inside, choosing his floor and frantically tapping the “close” button.

The elevator moves far too slowly. That’s all he can think as he adjusts his crotch, swearing under his breath. It does nothing to relieve the pressure and he swears again. He really does have big dick problems. He nearly trips when the doors slide open, narrowly missing a wide-eyed housekeeper passing by with a cleaning cart. He is quick to apologize but does not stop as he speeds to his suite, already tugging at the knot of his tie.

Letting himself through the door, he works the top few buttons of his shirt open and glances at his phone. You haven’t responded, which, knowing you, could mean one of two things. Either you let the moment pass...or you’re too fucked out to notice his message.

Quirking a brow, he texts again.

Namjoon: You there baby? [6:34 PM]

This time your response is immediate.

Y/n: Call me [6:34 PM]

With a chuckle, he strips to his boxers and falls to the mattress. Readjusting on the pillows, he presses the phone to his ear, listening to it ring twice before you pick up.

“Daddy…”

“Hi, baby.” He hooks his arm behind his head and licks his lips. “What you up to?”

He smirks when you moan, loud and wanton.

“Having fun?”

You stutter out a yes.

“Mmm, without me?”

He listens in amusement as you keen.

“I’m sorry, daddy, I c-couldn’t help it. I miss you!”

“It’s okay, princess. I miss you, too.”

In the background, he hears a soft drone.

“You got a toy in you, baby?”

“Mhmmm!”

“Yeah? Which one?”

You take a shaky breath. “T-the black one.”

He hums in approval, cock twitching at the image of you lying on the bed, legs spread, the suction cup of your favorite toy pressed to your clit while the other end curves inside you, buzzing against your g-spot. He can picture the way your eyes squeeze shut as you bite and suck on your fingers to keep yourself from touching.

“How long’s it been in, princess?”

“Too long,” you moan, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Not an answer.”

You whimper, voice pitching. “Since I c-called you.”

In the back of his mind, he’s impressed. That was at least an hour. Giving a low whistle, he finally reaches down and briefly palms himself. The relief shoots up his spine as he sighs.

“Dang, baby. Wanna tell daddy what you did while you waited for me?”

The way you groan tells him you’d much rather not, but he waits expectantly. You know what to say if you want to stop. You exhale a few times before managing to speak.

“I u-used my fingers...and I played with my clit. I got myself m-messy for you.” You pause to breathe. “Then g-got close, I was so close, and then I called you.”

You’re starting to heave, voice modulating rhythmically, and Namjoon suspects you are rocking your head back and forth, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. His dick throbs, but he refuses to touch just yet. Not until he hears you be good for him.

“Keep going, baby.”

You huff a whine and press on. “T-then I put my toy in...I let it suck my clit–ah!”

The device clicks off and he swells with pride and satisfaction as you pant heavily in his ear. Your self-control never fails to blow his mind. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do, you’re so desperate to please. Tugging at his waistband, he pulls the elastic below his balls, finally wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and squeezing.

“You like that, huh? You like your toy sucking your clit?”

“D-daddy sucks it better.” You mewl and click the toy back to life.

He allows himself a smug grin. Sue him, it’s nice to hear. “What then, baby? What did you do next?”

Slowly, he starts raking his fist over his shaft, swirling the palm over the tip, and he bites back a groan, because, shit, he gets so ridiculously hard for you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost.

“I–fuck–I kept it inside me, and I...I p-played with my nipples until I was close–shiiiiit.”

You’re losing coherency by the second, and Namjoon loves it. It sets his nerve-endings on fire. Makes him a little light-headed himself. Still, he murmurs soft praises in your ear, wishing he was there to stroke your hair and kiss your face, your hands, literally every inch of your body. It takes you a minute to continue, the vibe clicking on and off once more.

“I was s-so close, and then I t-turned it up and it felt so good, daddy, it felt so good!” You’re on the verge of tears, and Namjoon smiles fondly, dragging his thumb through the precum beading at his slit.

“I’m sure it did, baby. Were you a good girl?”

“Yes yes yes,” you insist, and he hears the frantic rustle of sheets. “I was good, I didn’t come. I promise.” There’s a slight change in your voice, the toy becoming more muffled, and he can tell you’ve flipped to your stomach. “I promise.” This time you actually sob, and Namjoon shushes you softly.

“It’s okay, baby, I believe you.”

You moan. “Daddy, I wanna come.”

The throb of his dick lets him know he wants you to come, too. He moves his fist just a little faster.

“I know, baby.” Biting his lip, he lets his eyes fall shut. “But I want you to use your fingers first. Take the toy out and get them wet. Taste yourself for me, princess.”

You shift and, a few moments later, audibly swallow.

“Tastes so good...” you moan.

Fuck.

“Yeah? Nice and sweet for me?”

Your affirming whimper is slightly muffled, and Namjoon can see the way you press your face into the mattress, ass up and knees wide, fingers drenched in your own slick and drool as you rock your hips in the air. The image is lethal.

“Yesss daddy, please–“ You choke in the way you do when you force yourself to hold off for him. “Please, I’m so close, I’ve been so close for so long, please.”

God, he doesn’t know why he loves this so much. It’s almost sadistic how much he gets off on hearing you beg, on hearing you so broken and needy and desperate, such a far cry from the confidently composed woman he knows you to be.

In the beginning, he was confused, reluctant even, when you asked him to take control of your pleasure. Even though the idea sent a shiver up his spine, he couldn’t imagine you of all people truly wanting something like that. You, who demands control in every aspect of your life, who refuses to take orders and sends 6’ 5”, built-like-dump-truck CEOs crashing face first into their glass office doors (a story for another time).

He asked you again and again and again if you were sure, hesitant to jump too hastily, no matter how badly his mind and body buzzed at the thought. It took you grabbing his face and shaking him, promising him you wanted this, wanted him to have that final say, for him to finally agree. You had a more detailed conversation after that, discussing boundaries and safe words and all the nuts and bolts he was adamant to set firmly in place.

You haven’t come without permission since.

And now, as you whine and beg for him, completely at his mercy even 1,000 miles away, he revels in the power trip. He feels it swim through his veins and collect in his dick, and yeah, another drop of precum oozes out because that’s how much he fucking loves this.

“Daddy,” you choke, and he can tell you’re quickly reaching a breaking point.

“It’s ok, princess, I’m here.”

Putting you on speaker, he sets his phone on his chest and reaches down to cup his balls. He’s barely touched himself, but they’re already so tight, and he knows he won’t need a whole lot to get there. You do all the work without even trying.

You keen helplessly, and he rolls the flesh in his palm.

“Alright, baby,” he coos. “Put your toy back in. I want you to turn it up high. I wanna hear it, okay?”

The answering buzz has you crying out. Loudly.

Namjoon grins in satisfaction. Resting his head back, he tugs on his dick, finally allowing the warmth to grow and spread throughout his limbs. Your moans spur him on, his pace increasing in time with your desperation, until all he can hear are your sobs of ‘daddy daddy daddy!’

Fuck, he’s close.

“You know what to do, baby,” he growls.

You’re practically wailing, words muffled and unintelligible, and he fleetingly wishes he had FaceTimed you instead.

“Can’t hear you, princess.”

You gasp loudly.

“P-please, daddy, can I come?” You break off in a desperate slur of pleasepleaseplease, and that’s all he needs to snap.

Gritting his teeth, he tightens his fist.

“Come.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You squeal, crying out for him incoherently as you fall apart, the sound slightly distorted from the way your writhing rustles the sheets against the speaker.

“Good girl,” he groans, fist pumping furiously, head falling back as your whimpers send him over the edge. Cum spurts over his hand and stomach in hot streaks. “Such a good girl for me, fuck.”

He works himself through the pleasure, dragging his cum back down his cock, all the while showering you with praise as you gasp helplessly.

“Fuck, baby, you did so well.” With a hiss, he slows his hand to a stop, giving himself one last squeeze before dropping his dick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You hear me?”

You whimper, panting heavily, toy already clicked silent, and he knows you’re just about boneless on the sheets. For a second he lies there, letting the cloud settle, his sticky hand hanging off the bed. Taking a breath, he checks in.

“Can you talk to me, y/n?”

You don’t respond right away. “G-give me a minute,” you eventually whisper, and he relents with a soft ‘okay.’

It takes about five minutes, but he finally hears your breathing level out, a sated sigh crackling though the phone.

“How you feeling, babe?”

“Dead.”

He laughs, grabbing some tissues from the nightstand. “How long were you–“

“Two hours. Two fucking hours, Joon.” He laughs again, wiping the cum from his abs and fingers. “How long does it take to check your messages, goddamn!”

“Sorry, the meeting ran long.”

You hum in mock annoyance, then yawn loudly. “It went well, at least?”

“Mhmm, really well. We closed the deal.”

“Fuck yeah, bro.”

Laughing, Namjoon tosses the tissues in the trash and falls back onto the pillows. “Were you really edging for that long?”

“I mean, I took a couple breaks, but yeah, pretty much.”

He shakes his head, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry, baby, you know you didn’t have to–“

“Namjoon. It felt good. Really good.”

“...well, shit.”

You snort, and he lets go of any intrusive thoughts. He trusts that you know what you want, and lord knows he’ll give you anything you ask for. He hears you yawn once more with a smile.

“You should go to sleep.”

“It’s only 7.”

“You’ll be asleep in an hour anyways.”

You shift on the bed with a scoff. “You calling me old?”

“If you want me to.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Namjoon smiles, and starts softly asking about your day, content to just hear your voice and stare aimlessly at the ceiling. Eventually, though, you settle into silence, simply listening to each other breathe. It’s not nearly as good as feeling your warmth beside him, but he’ll live. Still, he’s counting down the hours until his plane lands in a few days and he can kiss you for real. It’s been a long week.

He sighs. “I miss you, y/n.”

“I miss you, too, Joonie. I love you.”

His heart swells and he closes his eyes. He loves you, too. So goddamn much.

© moodievitamine, January 2021. Please do not copy, repost, or translate!

[nerdypanda3126]

The Whole World Fades Away

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge.

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. And I got a little carried away with this one when I was retyping it, so I think I ended up adding around 700 words (sorry, not sorry?)

The prompt I used this time around was Like a Movie by Cam

Read on Ao3

The brakes on Luka’s truck squealed as he rolled to a stop at the command of the red flashing lights that signaled a train was coming. The arm of the gate sprang to life and stuttered mechanically on its way down until it settled just over the hood of the truck and barred the way forward.

“Perfect timing,” Luka muttered under his breath before he shifted into park and flicked through the presets on his radio. There was only one station that wasn’t on a commercial break, and he settled on it without seeming to care what the song was before he flicked a nervous glance over to Marinette in the passenger seat. “I don’t think we’ll make your dad’s curfew.”

She giggled. “He knows I’m safe with you. It’ll be fine.”

“Says you.” He shot a grin over at her before he started drumming his thumbs on the wheel in time to the music. “He could always make good on that threat to never let me back in the bakery. However would I get my favorite macarons then?”

“You know he’s all bluster.” Marinette rolled her eyes, then bit her lip. “But if he did decide to ban you… you know you could always sneak in through my room,” she said, knowing as she said it the implications of it and that he wouldn’t take it that way at all.

He half-shrugged. “You know I suck at climbing drain pipes.” He shot another smirk over at her and she knew perfectly well he not only caught her meaning, but had brushed past it easily.

They’d been friends for so long, after all. She doubted even her parents would blink an eye at her suggesting he could be in her room without them knowing. It’s not like there had ever been anything between them. At least, not before.

Not before she’d told him about breaking up with Adrien. Not before he’d told her about wanting to stay single for a while after his last relationship mysteriously ended. Not before tonight, when she’d spent the entire time tucked into his side, his arm draped around her shoulders casually, watching a movie with his sister and his mom.

It was normally a rowdy event—complete with thrown popcorn and booing. But tonight Juleka had been in charge of picking the movie. And tonight Juleka had flashed an unholy smirk at Luka as she held up the scariest, goriest movie they owned. And tonight Luka had been whispering in her ear when it was okay to look and warning her when to look away. She could’ve sworn at one point he’d chuckled and kissed her hair, but since her face had been buried in his shoulder and she’d flinched into him as someone screamed on screen, she wasn’t sure.  

The train blared its horn on its way in, and Luka flicked the volume on the radio up a couple of notches, anticipating the clatter of the wheels against the tracks. The red lights flashed over their faces. Luka drummed on the wheel and hummed along to the song. A few drops of rain started splattering on the windshield as a storm made its way in. Time seemed frozen, even though everything was still moving forward.

“It’s like a movie,” Marinette said, then blushed as she realized how ridiculous that sounded.

“Hmm?”

She hadn’t meant to say anything out loud. She looked out the window, feigning interest in the oncoming train, while she let her blush cool. He reached over and tugged at her pigtail. When she turned back, he was smiling at her, encouraging her to keep going. She smiled back before she dropped her eyes to her hands twisting themselves together in her lap.

“It’s like those romantic movies, you know? Where there’s always that moment when the guy and the girl get stuck somewhere together and it rains and lightning strikes and somewhere in the background the thunder crashes, and…” Her eyes bounced up to his before she could stop them, and her blush flared again as she realized what her next words would’ve been. The wake coming off the train as it passed by them felt like it rocked the truck back on its heels.

“And?” he prompted after a moment.

She shifted in her seat and the leather squeaked against her thighs. “And it’s like… they’ve known each other forever, you know? But something changes in that moment and they both realize they’ve wanted to be with each other since forever, but the timing’s never been right before. But now one of them is recently heartbroken and one of them is—for whatever reason—happily single, and—” She sucked in a breath and stopped herself. Too far, Marinette. Too close to home.

He quirked his eyebrows up and smirked at her. “And?”

She didn’t dare to hope that he was doing anything but teasing her. But his hand had fallen on her shoulder and his fingers were brushing against the sensitive skin at the base of her neck and she couldn’t stop the goosebumps that raised up on her arms.

The rain started pattering more insistently on the windshield. Huge raindrops that bounced off the hood and warned of a summer downpour. The flashing red warning lights were starting to blur, until the cab was awash with a soft purple-ish red hue. The train rumbled the floor of the cab under the soles of her shoes.

“And their eyes meet,” she continued, locking eyes with him as she spoke, “and they know why nothing else has ever worked out with any other person. Because there’s one person they were always meant to be with.”

He hummed in agreement, unintentionally harmonizing with the radio. “Sounds like a great story,” he admitted. She nodded and fought back a shiver as he continued rubbing comforting circles into what she hadn’t realized was a tense muscle. “So what happens next?”

“Well…” She didn’t mean for her voice to fall to a murmur. “There’s always this dramatic pause. Where the music swells and it’s like a drum roll as they both lean towards each other.”

Was he leaning towards her or was she leaning towards him? Either way their faces were suddenly much closer, their foreheads almost touching over the seat in between them. His hand had shifted on the back of her neck, cradling her as he pulled her close to him.

“And?” he asked, the question so full of breathless hope that she almost didn’t hear it over the crash of thunder in the distance and the rumbling train.

“And they kiss,” she said, or at least started to say because before the words were out of her mouth his breath was fanning over her lips and his eyes had fluttered closed and she had closed the short distance to press her lips to his.

They kissed with the tender timidity of something new, something fragile. Although his fingers found their way into her hair and her hands had somehow ended up clasped around his neck. He pulled away, all too soon, and she chased after him before he chuckled and glanced pointedly out the windshield.

The train had passed. The flashing lights had stopped. The gates had lifted. She hadn't even noticed.

Marinette shifted back into her seat and touched her fingers to her lips in disbelief. Luka didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t seem to stop smiling as he shifted back into drive and the truck lurched into forward motion again. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and they had missed her curfew already.

“Guess you’d better work on learning to climb those drain pipes,” she managed to say, her tone half-teasing, half-bewildered.

His hands tightened around the wheel—a subtle sign that not only the implication, but the actual possibility had hit him full-on this time. When he’d recovered, he glanced over at her and shot her a bright grin.

“We could always say the movie ran long.”

He laughed as she probably turned beet red, then reached over to grab her hand and twine his fingers through hers. After another glance over at her, he brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

He held her hand the rest of the drive, only breaking his grip to shift when he needed to, and when they got home her dad took one look at their joined hands and swept Luka up into a giant bear hug.

She thought she heard her dad mutter something like, “About damn time,” in Luka’s ear as he set him back on his feet and Luka gravitated back to her side.

Luka shrugged as she tucked herself back into the familiar place under his arm, and he squeezed her to him. He hadn’t stopped smiling, and neither had she. He turned his head to catch her eyes before he tucked a finger under her chin and stroked her cheek gently.  

“What can I say?" he asked softly, "when it's right, it's like a movie.”

[dragonselfship]

day 24; protect

ship; winter x kai’sa

“And it includes tons of re-printed cards from past sets,” He explains excitedly, pouring over the information on the back of the Elite Trainer Box with reverence. “Which is awesome, because there’s so many good cards that are so hard to get from those sets!”

Kai’sa hums, pulling him a bit closer to her as they approach a crosswalk. “Akali would probably know more about this than me.” Despite her words, she’s looking down at him affectionately, watching his excited expression. He’s looking at the box and she’s looking at him and neither of them realize that they’re actually stepping onto the crosswalk until a horn blares right beside them, and Kai’sa’s head snaps towards the sound.

“Winter!” She blurts out, pulling him towards her and practically jumping back onto the sidewalk. A truck flies by them, roaring over the cement where they were just standing. She presses him to her chest, thundering heart jumping into her throat as the panic sets in. Her symbiote crawls restlessly over her arms and shoulders, metallic scales shifting in and out of her skin. Suddenly the sound of traffic, the roaring of engines and hum of people is much too loud.

Winter remains silent, waiting for her to make the first move. He knows all too well how bad Kai’sa’s fight or flight instinct can be. When she remains frozen, he turns towards her and nudges her gently. “Kai, it’s okay.” Her eyes flick towards him, posture softening ever so slightly.

“Let’s get out of here.” She mumbles, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to call back her second skin. Her shoulder pods remain arched upwards, however; ready to strike. If she notices the stares people are giving her, she doesn’t show it.

They like to joke that Kai’sa’s symbiote is like a dog who barks at everything, fully prepared to defend and attack at the sight or sound of anything it considers mildly threatening.

This includes, but is not limited to; Near death experiences, people it doesn’t know, situations it’s unfamiliar with, one of its mates being injured, sudden noises, and threatening postures.

It’s a little bit of a pain in the ass, but the superhuman abilities kinda make up for the inconvenience.

“Hey, look, I’m alright, see? We’re both fine.” Winter passes a hand over his body as if to feel for injuries, and then nudges Kai’sa again. She doesn’t reply, simply pulls him into her side and continues walking.

“Let’s just get home.” She sounds distant, but he knows she’s just trying to process everything- the sounds, the lights, the incessant chirping of the void creature in her spine. The adrenaline from almost getting run over.

Winter nods, content to be ushered home by the strong arm wrapped around him. He nuzzles his face into the hand on his shoulder, a silent I love you.

[librius]

you're problematic because [a loud truck passes by, obscuring my words] and also [someone having a brief gunfight in the background], as well as [the sound of a few cats getting into a spate and taking everyone else down with them]. furthermore, [a firetruck and several police cars pass by, horns blaring], and lastly [the sound of water from the firetruck's hose putting out the fire caused by the cats who were having a gunfight after crashing a truck into a building]. i cant believe u didnt know

tell me why im problematic

oh god ive been fucking Found Out holy shit 😔😔😔 sorry boys the cancel train has entered the station

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 14)

A loud crashing, like broken glass, pulls Mila back to the present. Like a bull who’s seen red she looks around, only to see Juri standing in the bedroom window. He wears the foam headphones over his ears, holds his walkman in one hand and points downwards with the other. Mila’s eyes are drawn to the broken vodka bottle, scattered across the street. Well, and the Wolf, bolting towards her like a lunatic. 

Mila puts her finger on the trigger just as the man raises a big army knife at her. Being high on adrenaline, Mila reacts faster. The bullet digs itself into the “W” in his sweaty forehead, and he lunges backwards, as if he’s being hit with a wrecking ball in the solar plexus.

“Juri!” Mila calls towards the boy in the bedroom window and lowers the rifle to the ground. “Get back inside!” 

Her small rescuer in distress gives her a thumbs up over the windowsill and makes the sign for ‘you're welcome’, before disappearing inside again. 

Mila takes one last look at the unconscious, bloody man at her feet, then the millions of pieces of what once was a bottle of Russian standard, sighs and starts running down the street. There’s no time to mourn spilled vodka. 

Over the Safe-Zone a loud truck-horn is heard. That can’t be good. On her run, Mila quickly realizes that the situation is somewhat chaotic. Numerous Wolves have entered Alexandria; all of them with the letter “W” carved into their heads. Mercilessly they kill any Alexandrian’s they come across with knives, axes- 

In the distance Mila catches sight of Carol, clenching a bloody knife in her hand and a gun in the other while scurrying down the street towards her. The kind woman’s eyes are vigilant, ready for battle.

“We have to get people off the streets.” Carol calls. 

“Where's the kids?” Mila shouts to Carol. “Carl and Judith?”

“On their way to the house, with Judith!” Carol calls back.

A Wolf approaches them. Mila lifts her rifle and pulls the trigger. The man stumbles down on his knees and lands, nose first, on the pavement. Blood runs down his head into a puddle around him. 

“They're gonna look for guns.” Mila says and rubs the sore, pulsating bandage.  

“I’ll go check the armory.” Carol replies. 

“Yeah. I'll check the main gate.”

Just like when she ran the New York Marathon before the outbreak, Mila sets off toward the gate at a fast pace, tall spine and eyes ahead. She calls on every Alexandria resident she runs past to get inside the houses and barricade the doors. In the distance, she sees Deanna’s son Spencer up in the watchtower, focused on mowing down- oh fuck! 

Mila brakes as she sees a couple of walkers, climbing out of a truck that’s been driven straight through the fence of the Safe-Zone. Its horn blares loud and clearly over the area. 

”Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mila sputters, like a broken record.

“Shut the horn off!” Spencer shouts at her. “Door’s blocked, I can’t get out.”

Before she gets the chance, Morgan rushes past her, towards the truck and the walkers and Mila is approached by two Wolves, a man and a woman equipped with what looks like homemade swords, who decide to attack her. Two against one feels unfair. She’s also visibly damaged, with the bandages and the bruised skin peeking out of it, that shifts in blue, purple, green and yellow. But they don't seem to care. Mila starts swinging the rifle at them like a baseball player trying to hit a ball. In the corner of her eye she sees Maggie and Deanna scurry past her and Spencer getting out of the tower, heading towards the truck. 

May Rick and the others be back soon, she thinks. Where the hell are they? Has something happened? She fends off the Wolves and starts running towards the houses, leaving Morgan in control of the situation at the main gate. She must make sure no one has entered the house where Carl, Judith and Juri are hiding. But she doesn’t reach the street, or the house. Commotion and gunfire is heard from the main gate, where she was just minutes ago. Have the Wolves got hold of firearms at last? Mila simply has to run back. 

She passes Rosita and Aaron on her way back, in the process of warding off two Wolves. At a distance Mila sees Morgan, inside a circle created by a group of Wolves. He circulates the circle with the staff in a tight grip. His steps are vigilant, his dark eyes are sharp. Mila has seen him handle that staff, knows he’s lethal, if it hadn’t been for his stupid philosophy that ‘All life is precious’. And Mila’s had it with philosophy. She marches towards the circle. 

“Mila-”

Morgan doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Mila fires the first shot and a Wolf, standing with its back against her, drops in the ground. It’s like the starting signal for a sprint race. Two Wolves against her and the other three attacks Morgan, who goes full blown ‘karate kid’ on them. One thing is certain; Mila prefers Rambo. Without blinking, she kills the two men on the spot; bam-bam, done! She reloads and looks up. That's when she sees him. The bastard who sliced her with a machete in the forest, with a fire axe in his hand, that he swings over his head towards Morgan. 

One thing is certain; a fire axe beats a wooden stick. Mila once again lunges the rifle through the air (why waste ammunition) and hits the stock in the back of the head of the man. He wobbles and turns around, right when Mila points the rifle at him and-

“Fucking hell!”

The young man roars in pain as the kneecap explodes by Mila’s bullet. He falls to the ground, screaming in agony. 

“Mila, no-” Morgan starts to protest.

“Oh shut up!”

Mila walks up to the screaming man, kicks him in the side so he rolls over on his back, in a puddle of blood. With the muzzle aimed at his forehead, towards the bulky “W”, Mila puts her boot against his neck and puts some weight on it. He starts to cough. If he thinks Mila’s done with him, he’s wrong. By this time, she has embraced crazy.

“Do you remember me?”

The man doesn't answer, just gasps and looks at her with eyes filled with disgust. 

“Mila, this isn’t the way-”

“Morgan, I swear to whatever god you believe in-” Mila snaps and meets her friend's gaze. “I got this.” 

In the distance, Carol, Rosita and Aaron approaches the scene. Mila turns her attention back to the man on the ground. She looks at his knee. The fabric in his pants is completely shattered, as is his kneecap. Blood pulsates from the wound. Without breaking their eye contact, Mila squats next to the young man, still holding him down by his neck with her boot, whereupon she digs her index finger into the bleeding bullet hole. It is difficult to decide which one sounded the loudest; the truck horn or his scream of pain. Mila chokes his scream by putting her entire weight on his neck. His cry ceases and she removes her finger.

“Yeah. Hurts, doesn’t it?” she says calmly and nods at her wrapped abdomen. “I know. Almost as one wants to die, right? But luckily for you, I haven’t been drinking in days, so I’m kinda’ clear. ‘cause you see, when I’m drunk and angry, I’m fucking crazy. However, unluckily for you, I haven’t been drinking in days, which means I’m in a terrible mood. You also tried to kill me and I didn’t like that.” Mila shocks her head at him and grins. She puts her index finger back over the bullet hole. ”Wish you killed me properly now, don’t you?”

[thepom-eranian]

The Penguins go for coffee

(a oneshot. human au with my oc, Gwen)

The hot pink car flew down the street, narrowly missing other cars and pedestrians as it went. It was havoc.

Inside the car, it wasn’t much different. All four of its passengers and the driver were screaming at each other, trying to determine what the best way to get to their destination was.

“I’m telling you, you take a right down 5th  Avenue and then turn left!” Kowalski yelled, looking up from the GPS app on his phone. 

“You’re wrong; it’s a left down 5th Avenue and THEN a right!” Private glared at Kowalski.

“HOW could the GPS be wrong, Private?!” Gwen exclaimed from the back middle seat. “It’s literally showing us where we are right now, and which street we’re on! And look,” She shoved Private to the window. “It’s the same street!”

“THANK YOU, Gwen.” Kowalski sounded smug. “At least someone—RICO TURN LEFT HERE!”

The scientist suddenly yanked Rico’s arm to veer to the left.

“HEY!” Rico shouted and threw Kowalski’s hand away from him. He barely managed to avoid a jaywalker as he tried to get back into his lane. “WHADDYA THINK YA DOIN’ K‘WALSKI?!”

“Yeah, Kowalski, are you trying to kill us?!” Gwen leaned forward and smacked Kowalski upside the head.

“OW! You were just on my side of the argument!” Kowalski rubbed the back of his head in pain.

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN MESS WITH RICO WHILE HE’S DRIVING, YOU IDIOT!”  

“WHY YOU—"

”Look, I don’t care how we get there, I just WANT TO GET THERE!” Skipper’s loud voice shut his team up immediately. 

Skipper pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Ugh, all of this just for some fancy-shmancy coffee…”

The car was silent for a moment before Private mumbled, 

“Well, to be fair, if Rico didn’t forget to buy coffee at the store, we wouldn’t be in this mess…”

“WHAT?!” Rico turned to glare at his younger brother.

“It’s true!”

Kowalski turned to glare at his brothers. “There’s no sense in argu--”  

"RICO, TRUCK!” Skipper screamed.

Ear-splitting screams and blaring horns filled the air as both drivers swerved to avoid each other. 

Around ten minutes later, the doors to Starbucks swung open, revealing the five Penguins. Their eyes were wide with fright, obviously having seen their whole life flash right before them. Skipper and Kowalski even had twitches in their right eyes. 

The barista stared at them for a moment before saying, “...So...the usual?” 

Skipper shook as he nodded. Behind him, Private passed out.

~~~ (I found this while looking for something else on my passport and wanted to share it lol. think i wrote it back in 2019, added some more the other day and i edited bits of it just now)

[nalgenewhore]

come bother me

this is the longest thing i’ve written but im really excited about it!! 

TW: Car crash, hospital, surgery

Word Count: 4554

“Hi, I have a reservation for two.”

“Ok, and the name?”

“Salvaterre.”

“Of course, follow me this way, please.”

The waitress grabbed two menus and led Elide through the restaurant to a window table overlooking the Florine. 

Elide sat and only half listened to the waitress rattling off the special, her eyes fixated on the door, waiting for her husband to arrive. “- name’s Eileen and I’ll be serving you tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?”

She snapped out of her trance-like state, “Um, I think I’ll be needing a couple of minutes.”

“Of course, I’ll be back shortly.” Eileen smiled and left, leaving her to peruse her drink options. 

She twisted in her seat and fished out her phone from her purse, no new messages lighting the screen. 

Elide unlocked it and tapped on Messages, typing one to Lorcan. 

>>> are you on your way?

She waited until it said delivered and sighed, turning it off and resting her chin in her hand. 

—————

“Was that the last patient, Eva?”

Evangeline’s copper head popped out from around the corner and she grinned at him, her twin scars stretching, “Yup. Ride carefully, it started raining like crazy out there.” 

Lorcan smiled back at his niece of sorts, “Don’t worry about me, Ev. Tell your mother I’m sorry for keeping her precious angel baby late.” He strolled out to the waiting area and Evangeline stuck her tongue out at him and hugged him. 

She pulled away after a few moments, “See you tomorrow?” 

He shook his head and walked with her to the door, “See you Sunday at dinner, you have the rest of the week off to study.” 

The feisty ginger shot him a wink before pulling the door open and making her way to the elevator. 

He shook his head softly and walked to back to his office when the door opened again, “Miss me already, Ev?”

“Dr. Salvaterre,” he whirled and took in the woman standing with a swaddled baby in her arms, “I know you’re closed but she’s burning up. I’ve tried everything, please.” Her voice broke and he strode to her quickly, lifting the child from her arms, “Of course, come back this way.”

—————

Eileen appeared at Elide’s table, a sympathetic frown on her face, “Can I get you another glass of wine?” 

Elide smiled and glanced at the door one last time before turning back to Eileen, “Could I get the check, actually?”

“I’ll be right back with that.” 

She opened her phone up again and texted Lorcan.

>>> where are you???

Eileen approached and Elide paid, making her way out of the restaurant and sprinting through the rain to her car, slamming the door shut. She shook her head and turned the key in the ignition, pulling smoothly out of her spot.

—————

“Thank you so much, Dr. Salvaterre.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see you at the checkup on Tuesday, all right?” He handed her a card with his number on it, “Call this number if anything changes. Drive safe, it’s pouring out there.”

The woman smiled and left the office. Lorcan hurried back to his office, grabbing his keys, helmet and shrugging on his leather jacket. He grabbed his phone and dialed Elide’s number, the call going to voicemail, “Hey, it’s me, I had an emergency patient. I’m leaving right now and I’ll see you in a sec, ok? I’m so so sorry, baby, I love you so much.”

He hurried out of the office, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him. He passed the elevator and ran to the stairwell, sprinting down the stairs to the garage. 

His motorcycle sat in his spot and he hopped on it. putting his helmet on before he roared out to the streets of Orynth, the rain quickly soaking his jeans and jacket. 

He gunned his way through the city, weaving in and around cars, praying to every god that he would be able to placate the wrath of his wife. 

—————

 Elide’s phone rang in the center console and she glanced at it, Lorcan’s name appearing on the screen. She rolled her eyes and reached over to turn the ringer off. Her hair was wet and hung limply around her face and her makeup was running from the rain she had run through. 

She flicked her blinker on and got ready to switch lanes. A horn blared at her and she turned her head, headlights blinding her as a truck crashed into her car. Her body was thrown only for her seatbelt to catch her, her head snapping back. 

The shattered glass pelted into her, slicing her skin. 

Her car flipped and was pushed across the road, the roof scraping on the wet asphalt. 

The car stopped moving and she hung there, strapped to the seat. Her phone rang, Lorcan’s smiling face taking over the cracked screen.

The tears came now as darkness claimed her. 

—————

Lorcan walked to the awning of the restaurant and peered inside, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He called Elide and was sent to voicemail again. “Hey baby. It’s me again. I’m here but I don’t see you or your car. You probably went home. I’m so sorry I stood you up again. I’ll be home in a sec, I love you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I love you.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket and stalked towards his bike. 

His phone rang and he hastily grabbed it, picking up before seeing who called. 

“El, baby, I—” The voice on the other side was not Elide though and the tears that shook it made him on edge.

“Lor, it’s me.” Aelin’s voice trembled and he was put even more on edge when she used his nickname, something she only did when she was being gentle. 

“Ace, what’s wrong? Are you ok? Is it Rowan? Did something happen to Evalin?” He demanded the questions and picked up his pace, straddling his bike, his pulse beating faster and faster. 

“It’s El, Lor. She was going home and,” she sobbed, her cries loud in his ear. His heart stopped in his chest. “What happened, Ace?”

“Her car, someone crashed into it. The hospital couldn’t reach you so they called me, it’s bad, Lor. Really bad.”

“No. It didn’t happen, tell me it didn’t happen and that she’s with you cause she’s pissed at me and tell me she went to your house and tell me that this is some awful joke cause she’s so mad at me and tell me that she’s sitting next to you on your bed and you guys kicked Ro out and tell me that’s she’s laughing right now and she’s drinking straight from the bottle. Tell me.” Lorcan pleaded with Aelin, his voice threatening to break, the sobs building in his chest, the pressure almost bursting. 

“You need to come to the hospital. She’s in surgery.”

“I’m coming right now. Don’t let her leave, Aelin. Promise me you won’t let her leave me. I need you to promise me that.”

Aelin’s voice was small and quiet, “I promise I won’t let her leave.” 

They both knew that neither of them had any power over it but they gave this to themselves, to bide as much time as they could. “Thank you, I’ll be there soon.” 

He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket, slipping his helmet on and pulling out of his spot, riding more carefully down the roads to the hospital. 

—————

He ran to into the waiting room, his eyes falling on his family. 

Manon and Aelin sat together, their fingers interlocked as Aelin leaned on Manon. Evangeline was pacing the room, a sleeping Evalin in her arms.  Rowan stood when he saw Lorcan and hugged him tight, threatening to break Lorcan’s steel resolve. Rowan grabbed his face and his pine green eyes met Lorcan’s onyx ones. “It’s gonna be ok. Hey, hey,” Lorcan looked away at a spot on the wall above Lysandra’s head. “Lorcan, look at me.” He did, looking back into his brother’s eyes. “Elide is going to be alright. She’s gonna pull through.” 

Lorcan hugged his brother to him and buried his face in his shoulder, Rowan’s scent washing over and calming him. “L, let’s sit, k? Come over here, I’ll get you some coffee.” 

Lorcan nodded numbly and let Rowan lead him to the chair. He sat next to Lysandra and leaned his elbows on his legs, his face resting in his large palms. Lysandra dragged a hand down his back and softly rubbed it, her hand warming his cold body. 

—————

Lorcan didn’t know how long he stayed like that, head in his hands, Rowan next to him and Lysandra rubbing his back. Shoes stopped in front of him and he looked up, a woman with umber skin and golden curls falling to the waist of her white jacket. Elide’s doctor. Her face was blank but a healing light edged in her eyes, as golden as her hair. 

She wore light lavender scrubs and the name on the jacket said, Dr. Yrene Towers, M.D. 

“You must be Lorcan Salvaterre. You’re Elide Lochan’s husband, correct?” He stood and his form towered over her. 

“Yes that’s me. How is she?”

“The surgery was very successful. She had a lot of trauma to her brain so we had to remove a section of her skull for the swelling. Her right wrist and elbow were fractured as well as a dislocation of her left knee.”

He shuddered a bit, his legs threatening to buckled but Rowan was there, steadying him. “Can I see her?”

“Not at the moment. Dr. Salvater-” Lorcan waved off the formal title. “Just Lorcan’s fine.”

Dr. Towers smiled slightly, “Lorcan, while her surgery was successful, we had to put her in a medically induced coma. We’re not certain when she’ll wake up.”

“But she will wake up, right?” He pressed her for answers, his heart slamming in his chest. 

“That is the hope. Right now, there’s nothing we can do but wait. I’ll come back later with an update.” She smiled at them all once more and left. Lorcan started breathing faster and faster, his family around him crowding and suffocating him. Rowan pulled him away, saying to the rest of them, “We’re gonna get some coffee. We’ll be right back.” 

He led Lorcan down an empty hallway and let him lean against the wall and slowly slide down to the floor. Rowan sat next to him and Lorcan rested his head on Rowan’s shoulder. “It’s my fault. All of this. It’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault, Lor. It just happened. There was nothing anyone could do.”

“I could’ve done something. I could’ve been on time, I could’ve not stood her up the first time, I could’ve ridden faster—”

“And what? Gotten yourself in a wreck instead of her? There was nothing that could’ve stopped this, L. This is not your fault. This stuff happens.” 

Lorcan didn’t say anything and the tears dripped down his face, making Rowan’s shirt wet. Sneakers appeared before him and he looked up, Fenrys’ curly golden hair popping above him. In his arms he carried a soft blanket with Evalin. He sat on Lorcan’s other side, “Do you want to hold her?” 

Lorcan nodded and was passed the baby, her one green eye and the other one, fiery turquoise with liquid gold insides, stared up at him. Freckles were like constellations across her chubby cheeks, her dimples deep as she smiled up at him. Lorcan grinned tearfully and the three brothers all stared in wonder at the littlest, most precious creation they had ever known. 

—————

“Lorcan! Lor!”

He was pulled out of his slumber on Fen’s shoulder and looked down the hall, Evangeline running towards them. “Dr. Towers says she needs to speak with you.” 

He stood up fast, Evalin still in his arms and the four of them walked as quickly as they could down the hall, careful to not jostle the sleeping baby. 

“Lorcan, could you come over here please?” Dr. Towers’ voice, thick and sweet like honey, called him over and he passed a dozing Evalin to her mother, Aelin hugging him tight quickly before he joined Dr. Towers.

“You can see her now. She is much more stable and we are confident she will wake up. I’ll take you to her now.” He nodded and followed her down to a room, the curtains shut behind the glass walls. She stood by the door and opened it, leaning her head with a supportive smile. 

“It’s ok. She’d want you to be here.” 

He swallowed past his dry throat and walked in, pausing slightly in his step when he saw her on the bed, her dark hair around her. He could barely see her face around the breathing tube. 

Her arms were laid out on top of the blanket, IV’s sticking out. Machines beeped all around her but he dismissed them as he sat next to her. “I’ll be around if you need me.” 

He looked up at the doctor “Thank you, Dr. Towers. For everything.”

“Oh please, Yrene is fine, Dr. Lorcan.” They shared a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and she was gone, closing the door softly behind her.

“Hey, babe. I’m here, finally.” He chuckled dryly, tears pooling in his eyes. He reached a hand out and brushed back the hair from her forehead, hooking it behind an ear. He gently took the hand closest to him and held it. “Now, you come back when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting right here.” Lorcan lifted her hand and turned it, resting his cheek in her palm, the pulse oximeter cold and foreign on his face. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll- I’ll be fine.” He drew in a shuddering breath and let the tears fall down, trickling on the side of his nose and over his lips. He turned his head and kissed her hand, hoping that she could feel it, feel all his love.

—————

“Do you want me to drop you off or do you wanna stay with us?” Aelin offered him the guest room, her car stalling by the turn off to his street. 

“I don’t care.” His voice was flat and numb, Aelin shooting a worried glance to the backseat at Rowan. 

“Ok, well, you’re staying with us. We need extras for baby duty.”

Her tone was playful and light, in an attempt to make him smile, even if it was fake. He humoured her, the smile that stretched his face feeling foreign and wrong. “I can’t wait.” He squeezed her hand back and let them rest on the console separating the front seats. Rowan sat in the back with Evalin and Fenrys rode closely behind them on Lorcan’s bike. She pulled into the driveway of her house, only a couple blocks away from his and parked, “Home sweet home. Do you need anything, babe?” 

He looked at his best friend and his mind jumped briefly to their first deployment, when they barely tolerated each other but did it for Rowan. “Nah, just a bed and food.” 

They all hopped out of the truck, Rowan exiting more slowly as he took out Evalin’s seat and carrier. “What are you in the mood for?”

Lorcan slung an arm around her slim shoulders as they walked to her door. “Ace, I know you. Which means I know you can only cook breakfast.”

She poked his side sharply as she let them in, turning the lights on, “Whatever. You only know how to make nachos, like that’s any better. Remember that time when we were deployed together and you had to cook for like three weeks? I can never eat them again because of you.”

He laughed at her, albeit the sound was flat. “Fine, breakfast sounds good.”

She smiled and they walked through to the kitchen. “You make toast and coffee. Do you want coffee?”

He nodded and opened the cabinet for the beans, “I got you. Hurry up, I’m starving.”

—————

Lorcan walked into the hospital wing that Elide was staying in and walked to the nurse station where Yrene stood. 

She noticed the flowers in his hand and smiled, “Those for someone special?”

He glanced down and huffed a laugh, “Someone who deserves the stars and the moon. All I got are these damned flowers.” 

She smiled at him, her golden eyes crinkling. 

“How’s Chaol and Josephine?”

“They’re good but she’s growing too fast! They’re taking me out to lunch today.” He grinned and nodded his head, “I’m just here to talk to her.”

“Of course. You can go on through, you know where she is.” Yrene walked past him and he turned, “You’re too easy on me, Yrene.” 

She looked at him over her shoulder, her curls bouncing, “And you’re too hard on you, Lorcan.” 

He turned back and saw Eretia sitting at the desk. She noticed his flowers and the usually mean woman’s face softened, “Mmm, honeysuckle. Smells heavenly.”

“I thought they were daphnes.” Eretia chuckled and nodded her head towards her door, “You can go on, she’s waiting for you.”

He walked to Elide’s room and closed the door behind him. He walked to the far side and opened the blinds, the soft afternoon sun bathing her in it’s warm glow. Lorcan took out the flowers he had brought the last week and put them in the organics bin, placing the new bouquet in the water. “I brought you honeysuckle. I thought they were daphnes but Eretia tells me they’re honeysuckle.” 

He did this every day he visited her, chatting to her about nothing and everything. “I got a decision to make, El. I’ve been putting it off and putting it off.” 

He sat in the chair next to her bed and held her hand. “Everybody’s got an opinion. It’s, like, so much harder than everybody says. But since your opinion is the only one I give a damn about, I just wanted to run it past you.” He kissed her hand, holding it up. “Do I give in and get the new Harley or do I just rebuild the brakes again?” 

She didn’t answer but he didn’t expect her to. “Rebuild. That’s great, it’s what I wanted to do anyway.” He chuckled flatly and his breath hitched, tears pooling in his eyes again. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He pressed his lips to her fingers again, “Come back to me, baby. We’re running out of time. You’re running out of time.”

A tear fell and dropped onto the bed, “Come bother me.” His chin wobbled and his mouth trembled, the effort of keeping it in too great and the damn fell, his tears dripping out of him. 

Lorcan fingered the necklace he wore, Elide’s rings hanging off the chain next to their dog tags. “Come back to me,” he whispered onto her skin. 

He surveyed the machines around them and followed all the tubes that were attached to her. He watched her chest move up and down, “I wish I could breathe for you, baby.”  He stood and climbed onto the bed beside her, careful of her knee, wrapping her in his arms and whispering in her ear, “Come back to me, baby. Come home. I love you.”

—————

“How’d you do it, Dad?” Emrys glanced at his eldest son from his position by the stove. 

“How’d I do what, Lorcan?”

Lorcan wrung his hands and ran a hand through his hair, a motion his father knew was a nervous habit. “How’d you survive when Pops died? Cause I  don’t i’ll survive it. She’s not even gone and I can’t do anything. I don’t sleep or eat.”

Emrys moved and leaned on the counter in front of Lorcan. “You don’t.” He said it bluntly, there was no beating around the bush for this sort of thing. “You don’t survive. The person you became, the person they fell in love with dies with them. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, move on. It’s not a linear process either, son. There are days when I don’t get out of bed. But then better days come along to.” A timer went off and he turned, stirring what he was making. He mused as he cooked, “Somedays, I think the good days are the worst ones. Because you start to move on and leave them and you will feel guilty. You will ask yourself why it was them, you’ll beg the gods to take you instead. There is no end to grief, dear. There is no finish line.”

Lorcan started to cry, “I feel like I can’t breathe, Dad. I feel like my heart’s being torn out and ripped into a million pieces. It hurts. Why can’t I make it go away?” 

His father walked beside him and hugged him close, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, my son. I’m so sorry.” 

Emrys’ heart hurt for his son and he looked to the skies, asking Malakai for guidance.

—————

Lorcan went back to Rowan’s that night and the two of them sat on the back porch, watching the river flow past.

Lorcan’s thumbs picked off the label of his beer and when he spoke, it was the voice of a broken and tired man, “All I have left are memories. I remember everything. I remember her coming home, everyday, and just thinking, ‘I can’t believe that’s my wife. I can’t believe she married my ass.’ I remember all the times I could’ve told her I loved her. Could’ve shown her just how much she means to me.” He glanced up at Rowan and his brother’s green eyes were lined with silver. His voice hitched and Rowan moved his chair closer, his arm circling Lorcan’s shoulders. “I’d do anything, give anything, just to tell her that one more time.”

“You’ll have that time, brother. I believe you’ll have that time.”

—————

“Little Rosie is gonna be fine, Mrs. Essex. Just give her this medication an—”

The door opened and a breathless Evangeline exploded in. She moved her hands and lot and bent over, trying to catch her breath. He stood and approached her, rubbing her back, thinking it was the panic attacks that plagued her. “Love, you know what to do. Breathe with me, that’s it, in and out, in, out.” He hugged her to him and felt her arms grip his shoulders and she leaned back, “It’s not that, I’m ok. I just got a call from Yrene. They need you at the hospital.” His heart seized in his chest and he glanced at the woman and baby sitting on the examination table, utter bewilderment on her face. 

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Essex. It’s my E- my wife.” 

The woman jumped up and took the piece of paper from his hands, “These are the instructions, yes?” Lorcan nodded. “I can read so I can follow instructions, go be with your wife.” 

“Thank you so much, I’ll see you in a month, all right? Eva, let’s go, we got to go.”

She nodded and they split up, Lorcan going to his office to grab his keys and helmet while Evangeline informed patients that the office was closing for the day. He heard her light voice, “We are so sorry, I will email you all with makeup dates.” 

He ran out to the waiting room and stood at the door, herding people outside with an apologetic smile. When the last patient left, he and Evangeline ran to the stairs, flinging themselves down to the garage. 

They sprinted to his bike where he tossed the helmet to her, “Put it on. Lys will never forgive me if I let you ride without it.”

She put it on with no protest and climbed on behind him, “I’m ready. Let’s kick it.”

He nodded and tore out to the streets, roaring through downtown Orynth to the hospital. 

—————

Their feet slammed on the tiles of the hospital and the hallway to her room was lined with people. Rowan and Aelin stood with their backs turned, eyes on her room. They both turned at the sound of them and Lorcan couldn’t judge the emotion flooding their eyes. He didn’t let himself hope. Aedion and Lysandra were next to them and Aedion opened his arms, Evangeline flinging herself on her father. Fenrys and Gavriel were sitting on the floor and they both looked up at him at the same time. Connall leaned against the wall beside his twin and nodded his head. Manon and Asterin were next to the boys and they both were surveying the iron claws they called nails. Asterin’s gold head popped up and she winked at him.

At the doorway Yrene stood, looking at him with small, soft smile. He walked to the door and they hugged once before they drew back, “Are you ready?”

He nodded and she opened the door. Lorcan walked in slowly and stopped when he saw Elide sitting up in the bed, her gaze out the window, looking at the mountains. She turned her head the sound of the door clicking shut and smiled, tears forming in her dark eyes. “You’re late.”

He huffed a laugh, “I’m sorry.”

She reached her arms out and he sat next to her on the bed, hugging her tightly. “I missed you.”

Elide hugged him back tight and said into his neck, “I missed you too.” She moved her arm and gripped his chin, forcing his eyes to hers. “Lorcan, I heard you.”

His breath hitched and she continued, “I heard every word you said.” He bowed his head but she gripped his chin harder, her fierce eyes filling his vision. “You were breathing for me, baby. This whole time.” He felt tears slip down his face and they were mirrored on hers. “I love you so much, El.”

“I love you so much, my darling.” He moved her legs, one still in a cast and swung them over his. He cradled her against him and she sighed happily. She said something and he didn’t catch it. Lorcan kissed her head, ���What was that?”

“Are you sure you want to rebuild Bonnie?”

He started and peered down at her, her head tilted back, “You heard that too?”

She laughed, “Nope, I’m just playin’. Yrene told me.” 

“Elide...” His tone held a note of fake warning.

“I know, you bother me too.” Her voice was sassy and her grin cocky. They smiled wildly at each other and tugged each other close. He whispered to her, “Do you want to see anyone else?”

She kissed his mouth gently, not pulling away as she said, “Not now. Let’s just stay here.” He kissed her back, “Good. I don’t want to share you just yet.” 

She slapped his chest lightly and then shifted in his arms to look at the mountains. He rested his chin on her head and felt her fingers trace his arms and hands. “What are you doing?” 

“Is this a dream?”

Lorcan interlocked their fingers and dropped his chin to her shoulder. He lifted their hands and kissed hers. “It’s real. You’re home, love.”

im backkkkkk yalll! did ya miss me and all the unnecessary angst i give to you? just tagging peeps who i think would enjoy :)

@myfeyrelady @dayanna-hatter @schmlip-scribble @shyvioletcat @empire-of-wildfire @westofmoon @highqueenofelfhame @tinywolfofeyllwe