#. anyways ill stop rambling- thank you for showing concern for him because not many do

[gingerlee-holds]

Do you know what happened to volleeball bo? I remember the community financially supported him a lot so it was weird to see the blog deactivated. I have not been on tumblr for a while so idk what I missed. Hope nothing bad happened!

its a bit of a weird way to remember him by- but yeah he left tumblr because of safety reasons and because other people in this community made it difficult for him to feel safe

i don't want to go into any more detail than that because this isn't a drama blog where i call out other blogs and get into the mud of everything, im too much of a coward for that

but yeah if anyone who actively made his life harder is reading this, i hope you fall in a large jumping cholla with no clothes <3

[obeiii-mee]

Heyo, this is my first time asking (im kinda new to tumblr, so please dont judge) if you would'nt mind, could you do some headcannons (or oneshots, it dosen't matter) with all the demon bros and a MC who is crippled/paralized in their legs, and has to use a wheelchair to get around? Thank you!!

——————————-

This is the first time I’ve written about a crippled MC, so I hope I didn’t fuck this up or anything. I found out that being paralysed in both legs is a disability called Paraplegia so that’s how I titled this post. And y’all are too sweet, you are more than welcome anon! I hope I can portray this properly because I am not crippled myself so I’ve opted to do some research before writing this! I hope you like it! Also, I feel inclined to add that none of the brothers would treat you too differently if you happen to have a disability because you’re their human nonetheless :)

——————————-

The Brothers with an MC that has Paraplegia and needs a wheelchair to get around:

Lucifer:

-Lucifer was in charge of choosing the final human, exchange student for the program so it’s guaranteed he already knew about your predicament before you even arrived

-Him and Diavolo probably had many meetings concerning your disability before the program could commence, considering that being unable to walk would double the chances of you getting killed since you are obviously more vulnerable

-Not to mention all the treatment you would require

-Lucifer is not well versed in human illnesses and disorders, but he makes sure that he is educated enough on the matter before you get brought down there

-It would not be easy, but he is determined to help you survive your year in DevilDom for the prince’s sake

-First problem of the day was, of course, your wheelchair

-Due to lack of time, Lucifer was unable to instal ramps around the House of Lamentation which meant that for the first couple of weeks, someone would’ve had to help you move around certain parts of the house

-He gave that highly prestigious job to himself because he didn’t trust his brothers and thought they would accidentally drop you and your wheelchair down the stairs

-He talks a lot to you, even at the beginning, because he needs to establish your needs and what he should do to make sure you don’t die for the following year

-You would have to tell him about physical therapy and how most commonly it uses heat, massage and exercise to stimulate your nerves and muscles, making it a great treatment for people with leg paralysis

-Once you two enter a more intimate and personal relationship, it’s more than likely he’ll help you perform those things himself (instead of kidnapping a human doctor from somewhere)

-Lucifer knows you have no problem getting around with your wheelchair by yourself but there are times where he’ll insist to push you along in order to give you a quick break

-I can totally imagine you two strolling around DevilDom and having cosy chats about RAD and your adjustments to DevilDom

-He has a softer side to him that he’s afraid to show most of the time, but he feels so at ease when you’re around, it’s hard for him to hold that part of him hidden from you

-Of course, your safety still remains his primary concern and he acts more like your guardian than Mammon does, even if he was originally supposed to look out for you

-He will accompany you almost anywhere. And if he can’t, he’ll have one or more of his brothers do it. And even then he’s probably lurking nearby, just in case

-He would always be willing to listen about your condition, if you wished to tell him whether you were born with the defect or why you ended up crippled later in life. Either way, he’s all ears

-If you would rather not speak about it, he wouldn’t pry and respect your decision because he knows it’s not his place to pressure you

-Because of your paralysis, it’s quite obvious to demons that you are even weaker (physically speaking) than most humans and that usually puts a target on your back

-Howver, never fear, because Lucifer is pretty quick to put lower rank demons in their place with just a mere stare

-Oop one of them passed out from the fear, haha

-In conclusion, he’s the most responsible when it comes your comfort and safety during your stay

-He makes sure you are always left in good hands and and provides most of the requirements you need

-Y’all should see how his wings puff up when he senses a threat approaching you, he looks like a peacock ready to go on attack lol

Mammon:

-The second born is unsurprisingly a bit of a jerk at first

-He stays really grumpy the whole day of your arrival because he’s stuck babysitting you stupid human

-“Lucifer c’mon, what’s all this workload for? The human can’t even walk by themselves, why do I have to help them out?”

-Wtf Mammon you can’t say shit like that

-Anyways, the following very few days, the only thing he’s thinking about is how much money he could sell your wheelchair for

-He’s the literal incarnation of greed, what else did you expect from him?

-After a while, he starts feeling a bit guilty every time he thinks about it though

-Mammon is gonna take this secret to the grave (laughs in immortal) but he actually really likes pushing you around

-Maybe it’s because it’s a clear indication to everyone around him that you are HIS human, under HIS protection and therefore you trust HIM the most since he was your FIRST MAN

-He will insist on helping you get out of that thing when you need to go to bed and stuff every night and he will get pouty real fast if you let any of his other brothers do it

-You wake up to him trying to roll around in your wheelchair one night at like 3am

-At some point, he stole a wheelchair from the human realm to match with his human. You can guess the consequences of his actions

-I can imagine you having to face a staircase or something at school and Mammon being like:

-“Fuck it, imma carry this fragile human instead; wheelchair and all!”

-Like you were a sack of potatoes or something smh

-Cue his brothers watching him from a distance as he heaves you and basically weight-lifts you up the stairs

-Ok but every now and again, he gets so sad thinking about you not being able to walk, like he starts crying kinda sad

-While you stand there like 😐 “Why are you crying?”

-He’s so quick to help if he senses you’re in danger too

-It’s canon that Mammon is crazy fast if he wants to be so if he has even the slightest impression that your life is threatened, his feet are already moving

-He will charge at your immediate threat at around 120 miles per hour-do not try him when he’s mad

-“The Great Mammon saved the day! C’mon MC, let’s go buy some ice cream. My treat! Ya better be grateful!”

-He says while the demon that tried to eat you lies on the floor with about a dozen broken bones

-Mammon is the second most powerful demon out of all of his brothers, even if he doesn’t resort to violence often

Levi:

-He didn’t really know how to react when you first teleported to DevilDom

-I mean, from the very beginning he considered you to be a human normie but at the same time, he felt bad you were stuck with his brothers for the rest of the year

-I think he would understand you would have an even harder time integrating yourself in their house because of your disability and he knows his siblings are really fucking annoying, always pushing you around and whatnot

-So, he kinda lets you hide in his room quite often

-You guys chill out in there all the time, much to the dismay of the other brothers who also want to spend time with you

-At some point, Levi definitely begged asked Lucifer to let you start online classes with him

-“But wouldn’t it be easier for MC to do online school from home rather than go to R.A.D since there aren’t any ramps or anything around there???”

-“The answer is no Leviathan.”

-“Ugh fine! What a fucking boomer-“

-For some reason, he gets so flustered whenever you ask him to push you around

-He blushes right to the tips of his ears and then he starts sputtering some nonsense that you can’t make out at all

-But he’s more than happy to do it, especially if you guys are going to a convention or if he’s dragging you out to buy new merch

-You two would get along in the sense that Levi realises the struggles you faced all your life were tough to overcome and he believes you are just like him

-Usually left out by other people, ignored even

-He knows you always listen to him ramble on about whatever he is currently obsessed with and how much you check up on him to make sure he never isolated himself

-He wants to do that for you too! Talk to him about your hobbies, please I’m begging you-he feels so bad whenever he’s doing all the talking

-If you ask him to help you with anything (getting something, helping you into bed—that sort of thing), he legally and physically can’t say ‘no’

-And he would get envious enough to stop talking to you for a day or two if you let his brothers do it instead (the second and third born are indeed similar lmao)

-S T A Y I N H I S R O O M, W H E R E Y O U C A N B E P R O T E C T E D !

-He will feel so much more at ease if you’re in his room because to him, that’s his haven

-If you’re in there with him, that means you’re not getting involved in his siblings’ endless and dangerous shenanigans

-Whenever you’re at school, he can’t help but worry about your well-being

-Because you’re human! You’re gonna get killed!! Do you know how much your organs sell on the black market in DevilDom??? 100x more than in the human realm, that’s for sure

-Would they have a black market or would it be a regular market lol

-For some reason, he also likes staying in your wheelchair when you’re not using it

-I think he just takes comfort in knowing it’s something that belongs to you and smells like you and-

-OK Levi, sit back down

-He wouldn’t treat you any differently if you had a disability tbh, but he’d be more concerned because you can’t even run away or anything

-So he’s so fuckin’ relieved when you guys are just vibing in his room

-He could die happy knowing he kept his best friend/ partner safe

Satan:

-Satan would be even more prepared for your arrival than Lucifer would, in a sense

-Out of all of his brothers, he’s most likely to understand and recognise paraplegia (either from studying human illnesses/birth defects/disabilities or from encountering humans with said disability)

-He’s a smart boy, alright?

-Always seems to be the first to notice if you need help or if someone’s bothering you

-Though in the very beginning, he was pretty tempted to just let you get killed to see how angry Lucifer could get

-Seeing dear Luci’s misery brings him great joy 🥰🥰🥰

-Once you two manage to build a very honest and strong relationship, he feels more and more inclined to keep you out of harm’s way

-Pls, he would feel so honoured if you let him push you around (it’s like you asked him to h*ld h*nds or something)

-If you require treatment of any kind, he would be so happy to help

-But in a subtle way...?

-Satan makes it seem so smooth too like he doesn’t mind lending a helping hand when in reality he’s all giddy inside

-*Kinda wants to rub it in his brothers’ faces but at the same no, because he’s definitely the bigger person here

-He wants to know how your wheelchair works

-It’s got all of these neat mechanisms and he wants to learn how they’re constructed because he never had the chance to inspect one before

-He’s such a sweetheart about asking you as well and never pries about your disability unless you start elaborating yourself

-Most of the time, he acts all charming and very gentleman-like

-So people have a hard time spotting and acknowledging the building rage inside of him every time he sees you are threatened by some moronic low rank demon

-Satan’s usually chill when it comes to injuries, unless he can see you’re in horrible pain

-There’s nothing a few spells can’t accomplish

-But when others purposefully try harming you?

-It’s like he loses all the self control he’s been trying to perfect over the centuries and he can’t help himself from at least breaking someone’s rib cage

-Satan’s a weird one because he’s protective of you even though he’s more on the relaxed side when compared to his siblings

-He very much acknowledges that you made it this far in life with your predicament so he doesn’t feel the need to baby you or anything

-You’re strong and he knows this

-It’s one of the many things he clearly loves about you

-That one time you rolled over Mammon’s foot with your wheelchair on purpose, he was wheezing

Asmo:

-Even now, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be stuck inside a wheelchair for the rest of his eternal life

-I mean, he’d obviously still be absolutely fabulous, have you seen him? He’s gonna be gorgeous either way

-But after the two of you meet, he definitely starts thinking about how he takes his feet for granted all the time

-It would be so difficult to complete his daily tasks without the ability to walk or run around

-That’s why he gets sad every time he remembers that’s your reality and on days like that, you’ve noticed he gives you a helluva lot more attention than usual

-He knows you don’t need pity or anything so he’s just making sure his human has all the support they can get

-Paraplegia or not, shopping trips are still a go-go

-He loves buying you clothes! And he loves helping you try them on! Asmo takes it very seriously

-Might have a go at the employees if they’re being rude to you

-You don’t even ask him to, but he subconsciously starts pushing you around himself whenever the two of you are out together

-“MC! Look at that new shop that’s just opened! Isn’t it adorable? We have to check it out!”

-He can’t help it! There’s so many places he wants to visit, he sort of just drags you with him wherever he goes

-Even at home, he always pops out of nowhere to coax you into coming to his room

-Y’all have so many skin routines to do each day

-Like he’s in your room most nights to greet you goodnight and tuck you in, with the rest of his brothers it gets so awkward at times

-Asmo just wants to see you smile, ok? He thinks you have a beautiful smile and laugh and he wants to remind you that you’re marvellous, disability or not

-And if anyone does anything to put an end to your self confidence, he will swiftly put an end to their life

-Please, he’s a pro at ruining lives, he’s been doing it for centuries

-Asmo has such a huge influence over the people in DevilDom, he just needs to make this one post on Devilgram to end said demon’s whole career

-I mean, who is he compared to him, Hmm? So don’t worry MC, scum like that don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you :)

-That one time Mammon tried lifting you up the stairs and Asmo started shrieking, like put them down! Don’t manhandle them like that, poor human :(

Beel:

-I know I sound repetitive, but he would be an overall sweetheart to you no matter the circumstances

-If Mammon is not by your side, then Beel definitely is

-His big, scary aura and figure usually scares off any threat in a 10 mile radius

-Most demons don’t fancy being eaten by the Avatar of Gluttony, ya know?

-Idk why but I feel like he’d be the type to ask for oral consent every time he wanted to push you around

-He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable :(

-Surprisingly also the type to lift you and your wheelchair whenever an obstacle gets in your way

-You basically weigh the same amount as a paper plate compared to him, so he has no problem doing so

-He doesn’t really understand your condition as well as Satan may do, but he’s trying his best

-You mean so much to him and he feels it’s only fair he learns more about your disability as a thank you for what you’ve done for him

-He has a rough time keeping up with you when it comes to stuff like physical therapy because he’s very unfamiliar with it but that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna help

-Of course, Beel believes that this is the second best way to show you how much he cares for you besides the obvious ‘I love you’

-Giving you a hand whenever you need his support the most

-That’s his way of saying “I’m not going to let you down. I want you to trust me, the same way I trust you.”

-And knowing him, he will try to do everything in his power to keep you safe and sound

-After a while, you’re bound to notice he’s the first one to pull you out of his brothers’ pranks before you have a chance to get hurt

-Beel is always the one handing you stuff from high places you can’t reach, without teasing you for it like Mammon might do

-Always the first one to remind you to get plenty of rest and to eat enough

-He wants to protect you and his brothers because he knows he failed to do so with Lilith so yeah, he’s a bit overprotective at times

-He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but he gets so anxious knowing you’re by yourself

-After a few months of getting accommodated with him, your disability is no longer brought up in the conversation

-Because he doesn’t care that you are crippled and forced to use a wheelchair

-You are part of his family and he loves you no matter what

Belphie:

-He didn’t really care, even when you first met and his hatred for humans was at its very peak

-It didn’t matter that you had a disability

-All that mattered to him at the time was killing you to satisfy that deeply rooted need of vengeance inside of him

-Though he was sort of surprised his brothers didn’t get to you first

-In general, he’s pretty chill about you being crippled in both legs

-It takes too much effort to worry about your well-being 24/7 after all

-Surprisingly, he does keep an eye out for you if his siblings aren’t nearby

-It’s his redemption arc people, he’s trying to be nicer

-But he has such an irritating way of showing his affection for you

-Do not let him push you around

-He’s either going to a) fall asleep after 30 seconds and slump over you in the middle of RAD’s halls

-Or b) be annoying and fling your wheelchair in every direction possible just to piss you off

-He likes messing with you because you give him the best reactions and he thrives on that

-You’ve almost fallen off your wheelchair multiple times because of this asshole

-Not that he’d actually let you fall, he just wants to see how easily he can get you to yell at him

-Speaking of said wheelchair, like Mammon and Levi, he also loves using it when you’re not

-You’ve woken up to him curled up and asleep in that thing quiet often and he’s gotten in trouble over it every time with Lucifer

-But he doesn’t care

-And at this point, I don’t think even he knows whether he’s doing it to get a reaction out of you or because he somehow found a way to make himself comfortable there

-He would low key use you as a mode of transportation every time you go to RAD

-Just clings the damn wheelchair and almost topples both of you over

-“Belphie, there’s nothing stopping you from walking 😐”

-“Shh, just bring me to class and let me nap until then.”

-He doesn’t mention your legs but he still lays his head on your lap often

-Might make you hold him like a bride every time you stroll around the house

-It’s done out of love, I promise 😌😌

———————————

Al~

[gay-otlc]

Keepers of the Chaos (Chapter 2)

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing, food, L*ura

Word count: 2005

Notes: Check out the beautiful theme song here!

(Read on AO3)

Sophie rolls her eyes as she opens the link her girlfriend sent her and puts in her earbuds. Biana has been incessantly pestering her to watch Keepers of the Chaos for so long that Sophie half wants to watch it just to shut her up, but she's always tired, or busy, and she doesn't really like watching new things. Still, Biana asked her very nicely to listen to this one podcast, and she looked very pretty when she asked, so Sophie's dumb omni ass couldn't refuse.

"Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," it begins after loading for an obnoxiously long time. The girl speaking has a pretty voice, Sophie has to admit- sweet and melodic and vaguely amused.

Maybe listening to this podcast won't be so bad if she can listen to that girl's voice the whole time.

But another person speaks, adding "Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," and his voice is not as pretty. She continues listening anyway, since Biana may or may not murder her if she stops.

The two voices- whose names are Linh and Tam, apparently- start talking about Keepers of the Chaos some more, giving Sophie a summary she's heard tons of times from Biana and Fitz- though the twins explain it slightly more coherently and with less... whatever the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing is. Biana usually starts rambling about her favorite characters, like Lynn- not "Lynn the fandom mom," but the other Lynn- and Avery, or sometimes Nora and Darwin. Sophie doesn't understand any of those names and loses track of the conversation as soon as it involves too many unfamiliar names.

But Tam and Linh are making more sense, at least for the most part, until they start mentioning specific couples. The conversation gets again comprehensive soon enough, though, and Sophie does smile at the name "The Dark Duck."

By the end, when Tam says "half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement," Sophie is curious enough to be mildly intrigued. She listens to their outro music, and before she can regret it, types out a text message to Biana.

Sophie: fine

Sophie: ill watch it

Biana responds instantly with an array of heart emojis. Sophie blushes.

Biana: can i come over and watch with u?

Sophie: ok!

Sophie: moms making mallowmelt

Sophie: but u cant have any

Biana: >:(

Biana: hope u like being single then

Sophie: fine u can have some mallowmelt

Biana: yayyyy!

Biana: ily

Sophie: ilyt

Sophie: now lets watch ur stupid show

Biana: on my way!!!

Sophie smiles, shaking her head. She's a little annoyed, but fine, it sounds interesting enough from the podcast. And what else would she be doing? Studying? Having US history as an alternative would make even the most horrible of shows seem good. She stuffs her textbooks into her backpack and shoves some things out of the way so her room looks a bit neater before rushing downstairs. The mallowmelt smells good enough to make her mouth water.

"Mmm..." she sighs, barely taking time to let it cool off before taking a large bite. "That's so good. Thanks, Mom."

Edaline  smiles. "You're welcome. Just save some for your father and I."

"Fine, fine. I have to share with Biana, anyway." Sophie huffs and takes another bite. "She's coming over, is that alright? We're going to watch a show together."

"Sure, just make sure to get your homework done."

Sophie rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And keep the door open!" Grady calls. Edaline laughs as Sophie's face flames.

"I'm going back to my room," she grumbles, taking a plate of mallowmelt with her and walking up the stairs. She manages not to trip over her own feet and drop the mallowmelt, thankfully, as she grabs her laptop and opens Netflix. Sighing, she searches for Keepers of the Chaos and clicks on the show that comes up before waiting for Biana to arrive.

The doorbell rings soon, and Sophie carefully sets down her laptop and her plate on her bed before rushing down the stairs. Panting slightly, she opens the door for her girlfriend. Biana's wearing a t-shirt with the Amsterdam flag on it. Sophie has no idea why. Maybe Biana likes the country? Her girlfriend is pretty weird. "Come on in," she says, realizing she's been staring. In her defense, Biana is pretty and Sophie is very omni.

"Ready to go watch Keepers of the Chaos?" Biana asks. She bounces on her toes slightly.

"Alright," says Sophie. "I set it up on my laptop in my room."

"Awesome! You'll love it."

Sophie follows Biana up the stairs and into her room. They sit on the bed together, Sophie leaning against the wall and Biana leaning against Sophie, and Biana presses play. Somber kazoos begin playing in the background as the theme song starts.

We're on the edge of chaos

No one is straight

We're making fanart

Because L*ura we hate

And we're gonna have teal eyes in the end!

We must be weird, and we must be gay

(We must be gay!)

We will find every bit of sanity that we have

And give it all to Lynn

Ohhhh

We must be gay!

Biana dances a little along with the song, and Sophie can't help but smile. A curvy, round-faced person with short dark hair and colorful earrings plays a few notes on the piano, and then a KEEPERS OF THE CHAOS logo flashes across the screen. Then, a group of students sit in a classroom.

"Shai! Tater! Lynn! You three finally got together?" says the same person who just played piano, gesturing to a redhaed wearing a Sappho lesbian flag cape. She's holding the fingerless-gloved hand of a lanky person with brightly colored hair, and they're holding hands with a tall girl who has chin length brown hair. The rest of the class applauds the fiancees before returning to their own conversations.

"Yep! Thanks, Ink," says Tater.

Ink smiles at them and turns to a person with light brown skin and golden hoop earrings partially covered by long dark hair. "Hi, Kiri, how was your break?"

"Good! Here's to a good 2021?" Kiri turns to the person next to them. "How about you, Ref?"

Ref has short brown hair and red glasses. "Yeah, my break was dOPE," she says, leaving everyone to wonder how he did that with their voice. "oH, and happy belated Hanukkah to Shai!"

"Thanks, you too. And guess what! I didn't set my hair on fire this year!"

A short guy with strawberry blonde hair looks concerned. "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, Sam!"

Sophie looks away from the screen and at Biana. "There are a lot of characters..." she mutters.

"Yeah, but you get to know them well enough eventually," says Biana. "Now shh, let's keep watching!"

A lot of other characters are introduced in various conversations, and Sophie's brain has a hard time keeping track of them all. She does remember Tara, a curvy, bored-looking girl with long sideswept bangs, and Blue, a bisexual who may or may not be an arsonist. She doesn't know either of their personalities very well yet, but she likes them so far. Lucat, a pale, blue haired asexual, who later joins the Hanukkah conversation, also seems cool.

Once quite a bit of introductions are done- Sophie lost count at around twenty something- are over, an announcement comes over the school's loudspeakers.

"Welcome back, Tumblr High School!" announces a voice. "I hope you all had a good break. Now, the Tumblr staff have an important announcement for you all. High schools in this county, like ours, Pinterest High School, and Instagram High School, will be holding a competition. All members of the winning team will receive a scholarship to AO3 college. If you are interested, meet in room 69 after school. Now, onto other announcements..."

Somber kazoos play again as the principal's droning voice fades into the background. A montage of the previously introduced characters wishing they could go to AO3 college moves across the screen. After a few minutes of them zooming through school and talking about how fucking boring it is, all of them gather in the room (some of them with more jokes than others) to discuss the competition.

A blonde woman welcomes them into the room. They wait a while to make sure no one else will arrive, but once everyone is there, the woman clears her throat. "Hello, everyone! I'm glad you're interested in joining the competition. My name is Shannon Messenger, and I'm in charge of admissions at AO3 College. My coworker L*ura and I designed this competition."

Sophie gasps and looks at Biana. "L*ura? But isn't that the person they hate? They said that in the intro!" Biana smiles at her, and she blushes as she realizes that she's kind of... maybe... invested in the show now. She decides she'll endure the "I told you so"s later and looks back at the show, trying to telepathically tell the characters not to trust this L*ura person... and perhaps not Shannon either. It's too early to tell whether Shannon will be an antagonist or not.

"All of you will be working as a team to write a story together. The main premise is that a twelve year old girl named Sophia is a telepath, but she can't tell anyone her secret. Then, she meets a teal-eyed boy named Finn, and he tells her that she's an elf. She travels back to the elf world with him, where she struggles a bit at the elf school Firefox, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. There are other details to be included into the story, which will be given out to the participants as a packet. The object of this competition is not to determine your ability at coming up with story ideas, but your ability to work in groups and execute well developed ideas. Does anyone have any questions?"

Someone raises their hand- a short, tanned girl. "Lynn?" prompts the principal.

"Did you say the rebel group was named the Dark Duck?"

"And the Rarelynoticed?" adds another person, with rectangular glasses and a red bracelet.

"Raise your hand before speaking, Auran," scolds the principal. "But yes, those are the names."

"Alright then," Auran mutters.

"Unless anyone else has questions, we'll be sending out sign up forms for everyone interested, and then we will distribute the information packets about your story. You can talk to each other and start planning."

No one else has questions, so once they've all filled out the sign up form, they gather in small groups and flip through the packets, making sarcastic comments or mocking names ("'Rarelynoticed' though-" a stylish hijabi named Raiin sighs as they come across a page of information about the group) as they try to form some semblance of a plan. Once they all agree that they've made a lot of progress, they make plans to meet up again soon and walk back home.

Unbeknownst  to them, a pair of ominous teal eyes watch from above.

Somber kazoos play once again, and the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?" Biana asks as Sophie closes her laptop.

Rather inaudibly, Sophie mumbles "It was good."

"What was that?"

"It was good! I liked it!"

Biana grins. "I told you so." She leans over and kisses Sophie on the cheek. "Thanks for watching it. I have to go do some homework, awesome seeing you!" As she walks out, Sophie hears her singing under her breath. "We must be gay..."

[sylvie-writes]

Darling

a/n: So this was originally gonna be part of a series on wattpad, but I can’t log into my account (ahhhh) anyway I had some writing in the drafts (I’ve lost all of them now), but the only one I could get was this b/c I wrote this on Docs. Sorry for rambling about my personal problems, anyhoo enjoy!

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom, Sickness, any grammar mistakes and repetitious wording.

It was around 11:00 AM. Harlan had been working diligently to finish a few chapters. He let you leave to go help Ransom, after all it was part of your job. Harlan worked on writing while making small conversation with Marta. Although you were his assistant and typist, Marta was the one who took care of him while you took care of his things. You bid goodbye to Harlan and Marta before leaving the huge estate.

Pulling into Ransom's driveway you knew he was there, only guessing what hell he'd put you through today. The spoiled brat sat at the island counter, waiting for you.

"You’re late." He stated matter of factly.

You scoffed, he didn't own you. "I was working with Harlan if you couldn't remember." Walking towards the island you grabbed one of the many pans and cracked a few eggs into a bowl. It was your job to be at his beck and call basically. Ransom just sat there watching, being of no help, like usual.

"Omelette?" You looked up into his tired blue eyes. Ransom just shook his head.

The pan was on the stovetop, heating up, as the eggs were being scrambled by you. Harlan had treated you and Marta to an early breakfast this morning at a nearby brunch restaurant. The pancakes were amazing and by far the best ones you had ever eaten.

Once the pan was properly heated, you poured in the eggs along with some herbs, shaking the pan till the eggs set. When the omelette was finally cooked, you set it on a plate, folding it. You had assumed Ransom would want cheese, so you dropped some shredded cheese on top. Turning around, you grabbed a glass from the cabinet, then walked to the fridge to pour Ransom a glass of some fresh orange juice you bought the other day. You and Marta had gone to a local farmer's market to get some things for Harlan when you saw the orange juice and remembered how much Ransom had whined for it. Pushing the plate towards him, you walked around the island and stood behind his chair, placing the glass in front of him.

"It's cold and dry." He opened his mouth, but not to thank you. So many times you had gone out of your way for him and always thought about him, yet he never once thanked you. Treating you like you were the help. No you weren't, you were a person with feelings that obviously weren't respected.

This morning had been a bad one. You woke up a little stuffy and had a huge headache. Not wanting to worry, you just brushed it off as allergies. Harlan had noticed you weren't feeling like yourself, because as you typed, you struggled to focus, impending headache making it impossible. Harlan, being a considerate boss, told you to stop and take it easy, but you were stubborn, insisting you were fine.

You could normally take Ransom's shit but this was the last straw.

"Could you ever just thank me once?" The headache that was growing was not helping the situation. He just looked up at you. At this point you were crying from the pain in your body and his bullshit. Your arms were flying around as you talked.

"You know Ransom, could you ever be nice to me? Just once! Maybe even appreciate all the things I do for you? I'm trying to help you even when I feel like shit!" Now you stormed out, going up stairs to clean his room. Another one of your chores.

Ransom's bedroom was a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, between his sweaters and the random feminine clothing laid on the floor, his room was a pigsty. In his closet was a laundry hamper that he seemed to miss every time. You grabbed the hamper and rolled it out of the closet. Lifting the lid, you threw all the clothes inside, including the ones that were once laid around the basket. It was infuriating that this 30 year old man's room was messier than a five year old's. While throwing the clothes in, you were so lost in your thoughts and the growing headache, that you didn't even notice Ransom staring at you from the doorway.

For once he wasn't smirking, but instead his face showed... concern and remorse? You stripped the bed of its sheets and he walked over, his brows furrowed, looking down on you. For a split second, you stopped working and looked back up at him, it looked as if there were two of him, things kinda blurry. You hadn't noticed before, but it seemed to be getting hotter in the room. Just shrugging it off, you continued working, Ransom still standing there. The sheets and comforter were on the floor and you were now throwing the pillowcases in the hamper. As you did so, the lid slammed on your hand. "Shit!" Some would call it reflex but he'd call it instinct, Ransom grabbed your hand and gently kissed the back of it. "Darling, you need to sit down. Your cheeks are flushed and you look weak." In his voice there were no ill intentions. Hugh Ransom Drysdale being kind, to you? Yeah, you were definitely sick.

When you didn't sit down, Ransom then pressed his wrist to your forehead. "You are burning up." You were still in shock. He had never been this nice to someone. Just minutes ago he was a complete jerk, just for his own entertainment. You didn't budge, at all. Maybe this was all a sick joke, maybe he was going to be an ass and leave you there for dead, but instead Ransom swooped you up, earning a slight gasp from yourself. He set you down in the chair beside the bed, putting up his finger, signaling you to stay put. He rushed out and into the hallway. Minutes later he came back with new sheets, and you expected that he was going to make you do it, but nope. It was a sight, Ransom Drysdale actually making his bed. He set up the pillows and pulled down the covers. You tried your best to focus on what he was doing, but the raging fever didn't really allow you too. Before you knew it, Ransom was standing in front of you, hands out. You placed your hands in his and he helped you up, putting you in his bed. Fevers are the worst, for one, never in a thousand years would you let Ransom Drysdale put you in his bed, let alone take care of you. In other circumstances you would have gone home, but you were way too sick to drive.

'I must have died and this is heaven.' The statement almost felt true. You were just laying there, in Ransom's bed. Sick, and helpless.

Ransom had gone to the bathroom to grab a thermometer. A few months ago you had bought a mercury thermometer for his house after a visit from a little thing called bronchitis. The dumb ass had gone that night to the country club with his snobby and condescending friends. Later he came home with some giggly blonde. As they made out, the girl quickly pulled away from his lips and coughed madly, but then resumed, reassuring him it was just a slight cough. A total lie, because that slight cough, was more than just a cough. Yeah, it was a frickin' infection, and guess who got it too? Ransom. And guess who had to care for him? You.

Your fever-induced daydreaming was over. Ransom came back with the small stick in hand. You willingly opened your mouth, attempting to keep your heavy eyelids open. Setting a fifteen minute timer on his phone, leaving it beside you on the nightstand.

"(y/n), darling, you are dehydrated. I'll be right back."

This was so weird. Ransom had always called you 'Darling'. At first it was to irritate you, then it gradually changed to an occasional pet name, but now, now he used it with no ill intentions.

Your voice was raspy, words barely able to be understood. "Ran, it's very hot in here." The heat was your body trying to fight off the fever. Barely minutes ago you complained about being cold, but now you were a sweating mess. "Here, try this." Ransom got up out of the chair and went into his closet. In the corner you had stacked the folded clothes of the many one night standees. He's never going to see any of those girls again, so you just left them there as a reminder of his recklessness. Ransom grabbed the pair of blush colored dolphin shorts and the white camisole that had lace on the top and bottom of it. The rest of the clothes weren't made for lounging at all. It looked like it would fit you and he walked out of the closet, sitting back down beside you.

"I hope these work for you." Ransom gently laid down the clothes in your lap. All you wanted to do was sleep, and that was what you had been doing for the time being. Earlier, you could tell Ransom was uncomfortable in his chair, but he didn't want to leave you. It was...

It was sweet. It was endearing. It made Ransom genuinely charming...

Upon waking up from your mini nap, you saw the clothes laid in your lap. With all your might, you pushed your arms, trying to sit up. The fever had made you so weak, it felt like your whole body was aching.

Ransom noticed your struggling and came over to help you sit up.

"Thank you, Ransom, these will fit fine." You tried your best to give him a smile, after all this wasn't the usual Ransom Drysdale. He returned the gesture, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You don't care about this sicky thing?"

In all honesty, you weren't sure if the words had properly come out of your mouth. After all, it sounded correct in your mind, but your brain was all flustered from the new found debility, messing up your speech. What you were really trying to say was, "You aren't scared of catching this thing from me?" Ransom just sweetly smiled. He knew you were trying so hard to fight the sickness, but your words still dragged on. Each one lacing over the next. Luckily, he knew what you were trying to say.

"Of course not, you were here for me, now it's my turn to care for you, darling."

There he goes again, 'darling', gets you every time.

"I think we have a problem."

His eyes shot wide, with more concern.

"Too weak." You pointed towards the clothes, your eyes drooping slightly. Ransom got off the side of the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. He gently pulled you up. Once you were standing, he held you by the waist, your legs feeling like jelly, wobbling slightly. Ransom had one hand on your waist to keep you stable as the other one grabbed the clothes.

"May I?" It was almost sheepishly. Hugh Ransom Drysdale, nervously asked if he could remove a girl's clothing. Normally the smug son of a bitch would just rip it off any other woman, but he had an ounce of respect for you in his body, surprising.

If you were in the right state of mind, you'd never let him, but it was hot and you were tired of your jeans and your wool top. Combined with the heat your body was emitting, it was like someone had turned the thermostat to the setting of hell. It was either the heat or your dignity, and at this point you'd rather not be any more miserable than you are.

"Please." Ransom nodded at your agreement and helped you remove your wool top. He tried to keep your modesty intact, looking at your face as he changed your top instead of staring at your chest. It did tempt him, but he wanted to treat you right. He may not have a good track record with women, but he wanted to change that with you. The same with your pants. He made you sit on the bed as he pulled down your jeans, still trying to be considerate. He too knew very well that if you weren't sick you'd never agree to this.

Finally your shorts and top were on. But your cheeks were still flushed, sweat still on your skin. Ransom had brought up another Gatorade not too long ago, trying to keep you hydrated.

"I'm still hot." You laid on top of the cool sheets now, the ceiling fan running too. Your words weren't meant to be demanding, more of, asking for help.

If this were just anybody, Ransom would be pissed for such a great deal of complaining, but he understood that you were sick and you just wanted relief. Believe it or not, but Ransom hated to see you suffer. Yeah, I know, hard to believe.

You had a hair tie on your wrist and Ransom lightly picked up your hand to grab it. He brushed the sweaty hairs off of your forehead and tenderly moved your heavy limbs. His warm hands rested on your bare shoulders as he turned you ever the slightest.

Ransom then pulled your hair into a ponytail, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. He didn't want to overstep and instead went with the sweet and tender kiss, not one full of lust and passion. After all, you were sick, and he didn't want to take advantage of you. Again, surprising.

Well, it was only surprising because the man was such a player. If one were to look up the man on any news website. His name would be right there in bold, probably beside a picture of him and some random girl. Maybe it was possible for Hugh Ransom Drysdale to have a change of heart and attitude.

You weren't sure if you were hallucinating or just feeling things, but you did feel something on your head, and it felt like a kiss. It would be a lie to say you didn't find Ransom attractive. You may have been harboring a small crush, before, even when he was an asshole to you, however, after today when he showed his soft side, your crush grew three times larger. Like the Grinch's heart. Come to think of it, Ransom was basically the grinch. His heart had grown in size, in a matter of hours. Just hours ago he was being a complete pain in the ass to you.

It was getting darker now. From all the naps you had taken, one might've thought it was the next day if it were not for the date on your cell phone. Apparently sleep when you are sick feels like hours when it was only minutes.

Your phone had gone off, a special ringtone you knew all too well. It was Harlan, he needed your help finishing typing up the chapter he had just completed.

"Could you please get that?" You threw your arm, weakly pointing to the phone. Ransom checked and it was Harlan, setting the phone back down.

"Please call him." At this point you couldn't talk anymore, barely able to think of the next word to leave your mouth. Ransom was smart and put the pieces together. He called Harlan and gave him your notice. Harlan in return wishing you a fast recovery. Surprisingly, Harlan wasn’t shocked when Ransom answered the phone. He always wanted you two to be together anyway. You were the girl Ransom needed.

By now, it was 6:00 PM. You had been in bed for over a little more than four hours. Ransom had been in that same chair for the last four hours, occasionally readjusting, clear discomfort on his face. He'd leave every so often to get you a drink or some Ibuprofen to keep your fever down. Your body still hadn't really adjusted and it was still hotter than you would have liked, although the cold drinks and cooler outfit did help.

Sometimes when you'd come over to help Ransom, you'd make him dinner, if not he'd go eat out with his friends at the country club. Just to be a pain in the ass, he would drag you along at times. Tonight was different, Ransom knew you'd weren't that hungry, another effect of the fever, so he cooked you some good old fashioned chicken soup. The same one you had cooked when he was sick. He wasn't sure at the time if it was the illness-induced delirium or not, but that soup seemed to make him feel better.

At the time, you had left the recipe on a small stick note, your beautiful handwriting as you had inscribed the recipe. It was another well kept secret that Ransom Drysdale could cook.

He came back up around 6:30 with a cold glass of your favorite soda and the soup on a wooden serving tray that could sit in the bed. He lightly tapped you, waking you from your 50th nap. Lifting your head off the pillow, you sat up, glancing down at the delicious food in front. It was like he knew. You weren't starving nor were you full, this seemed to be in between and perfect. He sat back down in the chair, after turning the ceiling fan up a notch, knowing the soup would warm you up again. It pained him seeing your frail hand shaking as you fed yourself. The glass was so heavy for your aching hand that Ransom kindly picked it up for you, allowing you to drink from the straw he had included.

After he put away your food once you had finished, he came back up. This time you were awake. As you slept before, he had been on his phone, texting friends and cancelling plans for the night, but now he had nothing to do. You were awake and had noticed his discomfort once again.

"Ransom this is your bed too." With all the strength you had left, you patted his side of the bed and he slowly walked over, as if you were going to change your mind. With nothing to do, Ransom asked if you wanted to watch a movie and you both agreed on a classic movie. Another terrible thing to come out of your sickness, was that your ears were clogged. You could still hear but not as well and when you laughed it made your head rattle. Ransom was glad to see you finally smile amidst your rough day. He would love to see you like that all the time.

The movie was halfway finished and you had fallen asleep. Your body trying to catch up on rest from working to fight the invading illness. At some point you had fallen asleep on his chest, his steady heart beat lulling you to sleep and he slowly ran his fingers through your somewhat damp hair. He too fell asleep. His hand softly laid on your head since he had fallen asleep while stroking your hair.

At the ungodly hour of 2:00 AM you woke up. It was hot once again, you were now sweating. Ransom had been giving you the proper dosage of ibuprofen, making sure to not miss a single time slot. It had helped relieve the fever because now you were sweating and starting to break your fever. Ransom felt you stirring and woke up.

"What is wrong?" He turned on the lamp so he could look at you.

"The fever. It's breaking." The second time you had smiled today and it made Ransom's world.

Ransom removed the sheet not wanting to make you hot and he sat up, as did you. After some cold sweats you felt your body return to a somewhat normal temperature. Ransom leaned across you to get the thermometer he had laid on the nightstand and stuck it in your mouth after shaking up the mercury. He set the timer for fifteen minutes and you leaned back on his chest and he once again kissed your head. This time you knew you weren't delusional.

The quiet timer had gone off and Ransom removed the thermometer from your mouth. He leaned towards the night lamp trying to read the small numbers. 98.4, close enough. He placed it back down and turned off the night lamp.

"It's great, darling, your fever broke." He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you once again leaned on his broad chest. You smiled, not only because your fever was gone, but because Ransom could be so caring.

"We should get some more rest." You nodded and he slowly ran his large hand up and down your arm. The both of you scooted out of your sitting positions and into sleeping ones. You were on your side when you felt Ransom's arm drape across your waist. He knew you'd push it off if you didn't want it. Hell, you wouldn't even be in his bed still if you didn't feel the same way. He had no clue that he could care about you so much, and honestly neither could you.

"Just give him a chance." You thought to yourself.

The next morning you woke up around 10:00 AM. You weren't sure if Harlan was expecting you, so you rushed to get up, Ransom's arms stopping you.

"He said you didn't have to meet him till the afternoon of the day you were ready to go back." Ransom's face was laid into the pillow as he mumbled the sentence out. He had every right to be tired, after all, he cared for you over a matter of at least six hours straight. Also something he hadn't done before.

"Well I will surprise him and meet him today." You jokingly replied to the man. Ransom didn't argue, he knew very well that you were devoted to your job.

You didn't have any clothes over at his house and your ones from last night were covered in your germs and sweat. Thank goodness for the ones from Ransom's one night stands. You went into the same corner he had grabbed your sleepwear from. Luckily some undergarments and a pair of black leggings along with a peach chiffon top some girl or girls had left behind. When you first met Harlan, you wore office attire, now Harlan didn't care as long as you showed up. He knew you were dedicated to your job and trusted you with his everything.

Ransom's shower was huge. His toiletries lined up on the tile shelf inside the shower. In the closet, fresh, fluffy, cotton towels, two of which you grabbed. One for your hair and one for your body. Under the sink, you found a few travel size bottles of vanilla shampoo and conditioner. Not sure who is once belonged to, you still used it, Ransom wouldn't care. The only body wash was his and it smelt like mint. A smell that was so intoxicating. The relaxing shower felt as if you had washed away all the germs, stepping out a new person. You continued getting ready for your day and walked out of the bathroom to find no Ransom. He still played that little game and left the bed unmade, which you pulled off the sheets and put with the other dirty ones when you noticed they were gone. Instead they sat neatly folded and cleaned on the chair where he was once sitting. Ransom Drysdale had done his own laundry? What else did he have up his sleeves?

As you walked down the steps and through the sitting room, you could smell food being cooked. There was Ransom pulling a breakfast casserole out of the oven. The laundry basket you had in your hands, was set down on the floor as you walked closer to him. He heard you put down the basket and turned around smiling.

"Darling, you didn't have to do that. I was gonna get it." He pointed to the laundry basket. 'Oh so he wasn't playing a game with you?'

"I made a breakfast casserole, I thought I'd try something new. I hope you like it." And boy did you like it.

Ransom Drysdale had cooked an amazing breakfast.

"Who are you and where did you take Ransom Drysdale?" Ransom simply laughed and took away your dishes. He was doing dishes too?!!? At this point he was basically doing all the daily things Harlan had hired you to do. He was actually capable of living! You checked your watch and it was 12:15.

Ransom had set down the dishes momentarily and walked you to the door.

"See you later?" He almost sounded worried like you'd run away. You just smiled up at him, nodding, and hoping this would never end.

"Thank you." It was all real. Ransom Drysdale had a change of attitude in a short span of a couple of days. He even had a heart, one that cared for you. After finishing your sentence, you stood on your tippy toes, kissing his cheek, sweetly and slowly. Turning on your heel to leave and go meet Harlan.

Oh if only you saw the effect you had on Ransom and how flustered he was...

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

You are the absolute best idea I ever had - part 1

Ok so I’m still not sure about doing the chapter thing because it’s been so long since I wrote anything I have no idea how long my inspiration will last (or my fingers for that matter) but let’s go for it. *bites nails nervously*

Thanks as always to @amandaj718 for listening to me ramble about this and convincing me it was a good idea. It’s based on Red, White and Royal Blue, probably fairly loosely in some bits and more in others. We’ll see.

(They’re a similar age here and about Aaron’s age on the show when they met, maybe a bit younger, but it’s not vitally important)

AO3 Link

*******

Robert looked round the room as he dumped his bag on the bed. It did look comfortable he supposed, but that didn’t mask the fact that he didn’t want to be here. The room itself was nothing special, nothing like most people would expect in the home of the British Prime Minister he had no doubt. It was bigger than he expected, no doubt thanks to the Blairs and their renovations back in the day. It wasn’t his home though. He had a flat, a perfectly nice flat in the middle of the city that suited him and yet here he was.

“You’re here then.” He turns to see his Dad standing in the doorway, suit as immaculate as always. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look casual, even when his Mum used to force him into a sweater or polo shirt during the summer.

“You didn’t give me much choice.” He’d expected the call, as soon as he’d woken up to a phone full of news notifications. He supposes it’s not every day the son of one of the most popular Prime Ministers in recent history is caught red handed with the sister of his beloved wife. It didn’t matter that in private their marriage had been over for months, that Chrissie was already with someone else. No, he was the one at fault, all manner of rumours doing the rounds, because they’d kept their separation private so as not to harm his father’s reputation.

What rankled most, as it had most of his life, was that his Dad hadn’t even called himself, not even his closest assistant had been the one to make the call, a lowly staffer was all he got, telling him that ‘the PM thinks it best you move into 10 Downing Street for the foreseeable’.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be front page news, he didn’t go looking for it like some, but ever since his father had swept to power on a promise of reuniting the country, the press had been on him like bees round a honeypot, half the time making up their own gossip without him even leaving his living room. He wasn’t like his brother, the fine upstanding Andy, who still ran the farm that their Dad had grown up on, Andy with the sick daughter who everyone doted on, including Robert, he’s not that terrible a human being. Then there was Vic, the darling of the press, who smiled and waved every time she left the building, who would often take some of her newest creations out to the waiting press gaggle for them to try. Robert was just trying to live his life, but that wasn’t good enough, never had been.

“I need you to come with me tonight. I think it would be a good idea for people to see you doing some good for a change. Diane is already attending a charity event.”

“Where is it?”

“The palace. Be ready for 7.” He turned to leave. “And Robert, I don’t want any silliness, not like last time.”

Honestly, you get slightly merry one time at a Downing Street party and you never hear the end of it. It’s not like he declared war on anyone, he just, well he might’ve broken a vase. It was hideous anyway and deserved to be broken, but apparently it’d been a gift from some country or other that the country needed to trade with. Robert really didn’t think that trade deals depended on a frankly ugly piece of china but as had been pointed out to him many many times he knew nothing about politics and should keep his nose out.

It wasn’t that he was politically ignorant, he voted, he read the news, he researched anything that might be relevant to him or his job, but after years of hearing his parents fighting because his Dad was forever away from home or spending more time sorting out his constituents problems than those in his own family, as far as he was concerned the whole thing was a pantomime. The happy family that had stood on the steps outside, smiling and waving, was nothing but a charade. He and Andy barely spoke, which was fine by him, his Dad could barely stand the sight of him and Diane and Victoria just wanted them all to get along and that meant Robert should shut up and get on with it.

“Robert?” He stops unpacking and turns to see his little sister leaning on the doorframe, hair done up in her usual braid, already coming loose at the front. She’s holding a plate in her hand, his favourite flavour of doughnut sitting proudly on top. He’s missed her. The downside to avoiding his Dad is that he doesn’t see her as much as he likes.

“Hiya trouble.” He pulls her into a hug. “That for me?”

“Thought you might need it. Dad said you were going with him tonight?” She hands him the plate before bouncing on the bed. Sometimes it’s hard to believe she’s a fully fledged adult.

“Not willingly.” He mumbles around his food. “This ’s good.”

“It’s boring is what it is. Why won’t you try some of my other flavours?”

“Because you do not mess with jam doughnuts Vic. Some things have to remain sacred in this world.” He smiles a little at her huff and licks the sugar from his fingers before joining her on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go tonight?”

“I went last time. Besides, it’ll give you the chance to stare at you know who all night.” He groans, regretting once more the late night conversation a few years ago when he was still living at home.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Debatable. Anyway I don’t want to stare at anyone, least of all him.”

“So the words His Royal Hotness didn’t pass your lips?”

“Vodka had passed my lips.”

“So you don’t fancy the second in line to the throne then?” He shakes his head at her, irritated but loving her all the same. She was the only one of them who knew he was bi, well no, he supposed his Dad did even if they’d never actually managed a conversation. He idly wonders what it’d be like to tell everyone what had happened, the see the scales fall from the eyes of the nation about their perfect leader. He’d never do it, would never hurt Vic like that, but sometimes the look on his Dad’s face if he did would comfort him somehow.

“No!” He could admit, if pushed that Aaron was good looking, he wasn’t blind, but so were lots of people.

“Hm.”

“The man never smiles Vic. Last year, at his cousin’s wedding, did you even see him without a scowl?”

“You took notice of him then?” He half heartedly smacks her arm, making her laugh. “I’m glad you’re here, Rob, I missed you.”

“I’ve been here.” It’s lame, because he hasn’t, not really.

“I mean more than a couple of texts and a phone call once a month. How long are you going to be here?”

“Until I’m not grounded anymore.”

“Idiot. I’m going, Adam’s picking me up at 4.” She’s gone before he can even ask who Adam is. It just proves how distant he’s been from her and he feels guilty all over again.

*******

“I meant what I said Robert, best behaviour tonight. I think you’ve made enough headlines with your dalliances for a while, don’t you?” It’s on the tip of his tongue to drag up Rachel, something else that no one knows but family, but he stops himself. It’s not worth the hassle. Hopefully if he gets through tonight he won’t be asked again for a long while.

“Just once it’d be nice if you pretended to have even an ounce of faith in me. You do know Chrissie is right now shacked up with someone else, don’t you? And was before I went anywhere near Rebecca.”

“No one cares about that. Just behave yourself. Is that too much to ask? This isn’t just some party, it’s the Queen and her family. Show some respect.”

Privately he thought that Queen Faith looked rather fun and would be quite at home gossiping over a few glasses of red rather than endlessly shaking hands but he keeps it to himself as they pull up the gates of the palace. He can’t help looking up at the building a little in awe. He’s wouldn’t really class himself as a monarchist, but he doesn’t wish any of them any ill, and he watches all the pomp and ceremony on TV like everyone else. He just doesn’t particularly want to spend the night minding his P’s and Q’s because he’s really not all that good at it.

He takes a deep breath as the car stops and the door is opened. As he watches his Dad step out he can’t help but think his world has really taken a turn in the last 24 hours.

[agentbarton12]

Old People Teenager Watchers

A/N: gonna be completely honest and tell you that i forgot i hadnt finished posting this. like, its been done and ive writen it but i completely fogot i had to post it. anyway, here you go!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

—

the invitation — 6

Teenagers, in Tony's opinion, are the strangest breed of people. He’s pretty sure when he hired one, he was not hiring their mood swings, rebellious tendencies and relationship problems as well, but, it seems “you can’t get one without the other” or something dumb like that.

Tony liked to believe that over the last three odd years, he had gotten better at handling teenagers, but apparently not.

Truly, he was too old for this. He needed to fill in his formal Teenage Babysitter Resignation forms and hand them in to the board of Old People Teenager Watchers (“Parents, Tones. They’re called parents.”).

When Steve told Tony what that idiot Peter was thinking of doing, Tony's knee-jerk reaction was to say no. But then he thought about it and sighed.

A heavy sigh.

Not because he was worried, or because he thought it was a bad idea, no, Tony was apprehensive because it would work. Like, it really would. And Tony knew that the only way it would, was if he helped.

And then he sighed again.

Despite this, Tony agreed to help because he thought he should. He thought Peter was on to something and he really needed a reason not to be mad at him anymore. Nearly everyone had gotten over Peter’s idiocy, if only because MJ did, and had moved past it. Tony tried to, but he couldn’t because Peter kept looking at MJ like the sun and the moon shone out of her eyes.

It was disgusting.

And endearing.

But mainly the first one.

The only problem with this staring was that Peter seemed unaware he was doing it. He had convinced himself that he liked Gwen and not MJ and now, refused to admit that he was being dumb.

Okay, okay, he used to refuse to admit that he was being dumb.

Because this was the whole reason of the plan. After an eye-opening conversation with literally ever woman in Peter’s life (Pepper, May, Nat, Wanda, Laura, Shuri, Hope, Jane, Darcy, Carol, Valkyrie, Okoye, Christine, hell, even those Guardians touched down on Earth for a while to give him advice), he spoke with Gwen who, surprisingly wasn’t upset at all. No, no, she was not. In fact, she came up with most of the logistics of the plan. Tony actually took a liking to her eventually. After he got past the fact that Peter claimed to like her, she turned out to be a really nice girl, and if MJ didn’t exist, he wouldn’t mind Peter dating her.

But, MJ did exist and now Tony had been tasked with the impossible feat of getting MJ to the tower. It was impossible because no one — not even Pepper on a bad day — could get her to do something she didn’t want to do. And since it was seven o’clock on a Thursday night, Tony knew she wouldn’t want to leave her bed.

Emmjaaay

Emmmjaaayyy, hurry up and get to the tower!

It’s an emergency!

Ned’s in trouble!! Come nowww!!!ii

Emmjaay

[video attached] he looks fine to me

TonyMan

Uhh...

Emmjaaay

also you text like a child

also also im curious as to why youd lie to get me out of bed on a thursday, so ill be there

tell the babysitter to pick me up

TonyMan

Auto-correct, MJ.

Please.

The video was a screen recording of a Snapchat Story Ned posted. It showed him, Sam and Thor sitting on pool chairs with sunglasses on, and the caption was literally, Living the trouble-free life.

Tony really needed to make sure he and Ned were on the same page before he did something.

He was surprised when MJ agreed to come over, but decided not to think too much about it and sent Happy to pick her up. He complied, grumpily, but complied nonetheless.

He told everyone of the success of his mission, but instead of being greeted with thankful hearts, everyone started running around trying to get everything in order, which just confused Tony because as far as he was concerned, the plan was just get MJ to the Tower so Peter could do whatever it was he was going to do. There was literally no reason for everyone to act like they were planning a wedding.

When MJ arrived, Peter took her up to the roof and everybody, like, everybody ran up to the common room and asked FRIDAY for the security footage on the roof with sound.

The Avengers and Avengers Children sat around and on the couch for a clear view of the holographic screen that was being projected up. They could see them standing on the roof. MJ, once again, was not wearing her own clothes and had put on a sweater she stole from Bruce and basketball shorts that could’ve either been Sam’s, Peter’s or Thor's. Her back was to Peter and Tony could feel how much he wanted to reach out and hug her.

“So, did you bring me out here to murder me or for the view?” MJ asked not turning back to look at Peter.

“Uh, yeah, it’s a killer view,” he responded, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

She turned to him slightly. “That was so achingly lame, my dad turned over groaning in his grave.”

He chuckled nervously. “Peter Parker: Dad Joke Extraordinaire,” he tipped an imaginary hat.

She held his gaze for a few seconds, before looking away. “Idiot.” Peter just smiled at her back and looked at for far longer than what was deemed ’friendly’.

“Oh, god,” Sam groaned.

“This is gonna take way longer if he keeps doing that,” Bucky muttered, rubbing his beard in frustration.

They stopped their mutterings when Peter spoke. “I am. An idiot. I am an idiot.” MJ gave him the slightest of gazes, before training her eyes on the skyline in front of her. “A huge one,” he went on, “for not telling you I love you too.”

The eyes of the Avengers widened and Thor choked on his Pop Tart. Tony remembered that they never really got an explanation for MJ's behavior all those weeks ago and this is the first time they’re hearing this.

“I'm sorry, but when did MJ tell him that she loves him? How did I miss this? Why did no one tell me this?” Wanda was rambling at this point and no one shushed her because she was voicing their thoughts. As if she had a revelation, she gasped and said, “Was it that night MJ — ?”

“ — Shh!” Natasha said, as MJ started speaking.

“Yeah, you did. Remember, when you then proceeded to ask Gwen out?” Peter gulped at the memory.

“Excuse me, what?” Steve asked the screen. The common room erupted in noise as everyone started yelling about how they needed to know things like these. Tony looked over at Gwen who was sitting on the floor and saw Ned put a reassuring arm on her shoulders.

Peter took a breath. “That’s what makes me an idiot. I should’ve told you before. Like, two-years-ago before. Because I’ve loved you for, like, ever, but me, being the idiot I am, didn’t realise it.

“I knew I liked you, but when Gwen came and I liked her, I thought that meant I liked her more, I guess. But, that night outside my room, I fell in love with you all over again, because you continued to put what you thought was what I wanted as your top priority. Even if it was hurting you.” Peter took a breath. The whole common room was on the edge of their seats and Tony was pretty sure that Bucky had gotten FRIDAY to Skype it to Wakanda where Shuri and her brother were no doubt watching.

“The past few weeks have sucked so much because I realised just how much I adored you. Like, sometimes it gets physically painful to breathe whenever I think about you and Tony has told me so many times how disgusting it is when I look at you like you’re the only person in the world. And I’m trying, MJ, but, honestly, I still haven’t figured out how sit across from you and not be madly in love you with everything you do.

“This is more an apology than anything else, because I hurt you and I was an idiot and you deserve better than that.”

“…I taught him that,” Sam said after a moment or two of utter silence in the common room.

“Shut. Up,” Clint said hitting him in the head.

“If that is true, Son of Wil, you did a mighty excellent job at teaching the Man of Spiders how to woo the ladies,” Thor said.

MJ looked at him for the first since his speech. “Now what?” Peter looked stunned. “I’m not about to jump into your arms because you said all that, because that’s some dumb, cliché romcom BS and I ain’t about that.”

“Yes, girl!” Shuri yelled from the other end of the call.

“And you hurt me. Like, a lot. Like, I was pretty sure that at some point, Scott was gonna kill you. But, I’m not going to stand here and say that I don’t love you either, because I’m not a liar. I do love you. But, I hate you too. So, this…thing, it’s moving at my pace, how I say it will, got that?”

Peter nodded mutely, a large grin slowly gracing his features. “You see all that cute poetry junk you just spewed a moment ago? Yeah, you should stop that. I might actually end up liking you.”

Peter grinned evilly. “Oh? So I probably shouldn’t tell you that you’re the last thing I think of before I close my eyes?”

“Smooth,” Clint said, nodding slightly. Thor silently gave Sam a fist bump.

MJ's eyes crinkled and her mouth twitched ever so slightly, an almost smile. “No,” she said, “you shouldn’t 'cause that’s just creepy.”

“I love you,” Peter said breathlessly.

“It’s like you want me to break up with you.”

Peter shrugged. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into him. “I love you,” he said again with her face inches away from his.

“Stop.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You know why? Because I do. I love you.” He looked her in the eye before turning away and yelling into the night, “I love Michelle Jones!”

She punched him in the arm. “Don’t make me regret hugging you.”

“But you’re not — ”

He was silenced by her crashing into him and he stood stunned for less than a second, before he wrapped his arms around her and he settled his head in the crook of her neck due to the height difference.

“YES!” the common room erupted into cheers as everyone, everyone stood up in excitement. Scott called Hope and told her everything. Clint, followed his lead and phoned Laura to update her on the newest development. Hugs were given and tears were shed.

They all decided to stick around just in case something…interesting happened and so they remained in the common room.

Tony thought he’d hang onto his position in the Old People Teenager Watchers Committee just a little longer.

“How long do you think they’re gonna stay in the common room watching us before they realise that we’re trolling them and aren’t planning on leaving until they do?” MJ asked Peter as they remained hugging on the roof.

“Dunno. They like snooping. Probably waiting for us to kiss or something.”

MJ stayed silent. Then, “We should have sex. Give them something to watch, y'know?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wh-What?”

Tony jumped up and told FRIDAY to connect him to the roof speakers. “You two get off that roof right now, or so help me I will ban you from looking at each other. Get down. Now.”

The last thing he heard from the two was MJ's cackling as they got off the roof. And the cackling of his fellow teammates.

Never mind, Tony was resigning.

[antiquery]

Randolph Carter?

Good afternoon. Thank you for the coffee. I know you must be busy, so I’ll do my best to make this quick. Feel free to stop me if anything I say is unclear or requires further explanation, but be warned that I do have a tendency to ramble. Old habits die hard, it seems.

I enlisted in the war on the day I turned forty. Before you ask— yes, the identification I provided you with states my age as twenty-seven, and yes, that is accurate. I can see you’re thinking that one of the things I have just told you must be false, but I assure you that they are both quite true. It’s a longer and stranger story than you probably have time for, so I do hope that for the moment you will take my word for it. And the word of the Massachusetts Department of Motor Vehicles, I suppose.

Anyway. I joined the French Foreign Legion in 1914, well before America became involved in the war. My friends looked at me askance, when I told them, and I can see why. I don’t exactly look— or act, for that matter— the part of a soldier. [Laughs.] But I had just lost a very dear friend of mine to a terrible accident for which I was partially to blame, and I was consequently in a rather volatile emotional state, so on the kind of wild whim that drives braver men to braver acts I went to the recruitment station in Back Bay and signed the requisite papers. It was barely a week before I shipped off to Europe.

I remained in France for two years. I will not bore you with a laundry list of the battles in which I participated, or the campaigns on which I marched. Those events have all been recorded many times over, and I do not particularly care to relive them. I will say, however, that I first saw combat in the early summer of 1915, at what I believe is now termed the Battle of Artois. Strange to hear it referred to like that, even in my own voice— it is an ill-fitting name, almost heroic on the tongue, but then I don’t think that even a mind so great as dear Wilfred’s could come up with a name that did fit.

What? No, I didn’t know Wilfred Owen personally, though I often feel as though I did. I’m not as intimately familiar with his history as I am with his writing, so it’s entirely possible that we fought at some of the same battles— even that we saw one another, though at the time I obviously wouldn’t have recognized him. What’s that line from Longfellow? “Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing.” Rather. 

I apologize, I’m a bit off topic. Feel free to omit this section of the recording, if you like, it’s just— Wilfred had a way of speaking of the war that I’ve never heard anyone else quite match in visceral accuracy. There is a kind of knowing in it that I’ve come to believe can only be obtained by the experience of what it was. There’s been much written about the war since his time, but nothing that really…captures is the wrong word, you can’t capture a thing like that. Expresses, maybe. I remember the first time I read his poetry I had the odd thought that it sounded as though the war itself were speaking, with Wilfred as its mouthpiece, or perhaps its translator.

I’m rambling. This isn’t what you asked me in here for. I should describe the battle to you, such as I am able. I say that because, in the vein of the above, I have more often than not found myself lacking the words to express the things I experienced in those two years. In my former years I fancied myself a poet, but now…

But I will try my best. I can start, at least, by setting the scene. It was early May, a lovely time of year in the north of France; the winter had been harsh but short, and as we marched through the countryside we were all awed by the beauty of our surroundings. Being from New England, I was not at all used to the sort of gentle blooming that constitutes late spring in much of Europe; I associated the season with mud and slush and fervid, feverish warmth. I vividly recall the sight of the trees that dotted the field that would become the scene of such carnage positively bursting into flower. Even when we had dug ourselves into the trenches, and all the misery that comes from life within them, there was the not insignificant consolation of the world outside. 

I have forgotten— or blocked out, perhaps— the tactical details of the battle that I was privy to. I knew what I needed to know at the time, and nothing more; I have no interest in improving my knowledge now. And anyway, in the thick of the fray, there is no such thing as tactics, because there is no such thing as consciousness. You momentarily go mad with fear, and it is a mercy, for if you had to witness the savagery taking place before and within you as a thinking and feeling man, I am confident that something essential within you would be as surely murdered as the fellow soldier speared on the end of your bayonet.

I apologize for the grisliness of my language, but you must understand that I am only trying to convey to you a sliver of a fragment of a fraction of what it was truly like. I cannot show you the fullness of it, of course, nor would I want to. I would never wish such a thing on anyone. But— your aim, as I am told, is to know as much as you can about this particular moment, and so I will try and provide you with that knowledge at as little cost to your sanity as possible.

And I do mean sanity. I am not unlearned in the occult (as you may have come to suspect granted the discrepancy between my appearance, my true age, and the story I am telling you) and in my time studying those strange arts I have been privy to a great number of secrets one might consider maddening. You are an institute devoted to the study of the paranormal, so you will know the gravity of what I am saying when I tell you that there is nothing in Prinn or Chambers or even Al-Hazred that so much as holds a candle to what it was like to fight in the Great War. 

The battle waged on for what felt like years, but in fact were only days— about two weeks, all told. I remember very little of the specifics; all of it blurs together in a haze of mud and blood and screams and gore, violent and unceasing death on every side, and fear that filled me with such icy coldness that I thought I would freeze solid on the spot. Such utter and infinite horror, and all of it enacted on that pastoral field, beneath a beautiful spring sky, around trees so delicate and fragrant I sometimes thought I was hallucinating them. I wonder if all the blood in the soil changed the color of those lovely white flowers.

Eventually it was over, though I felt as though I had lived a thousand lifetimes before that day came. When my commander told the regiment that the Germans had surrendered, or that we had, or that the random and reignless turning of the war had rendered us a stalemate, I felt as though I might die with relief. Temporary as it was.

The dead were everywhere. That’s what I mostly remember, about the days after the battle— the sheer plenitude of bodies, and the weak-kneed gratefulness that I was not among them, that I had escaped with nothing but a bullet wound to the upper arm and a bayonet scar that cut from the corner of my mouth to my ear and always made me look as though I were half-smiling in polite concern. [Gestures to upper lip, though no such wound is visible.] They filled the abandoned trenches and the open field of no-man’s-land, of course, but also the places in which we living made our salvaged lives— makeshift field hospitals, filthy messes, even the pitiful “rooms” where we slept. It was like living in a cemetery, but instead of clean graven headstones the markers of the dead were their bodies, slowly beginning to stink in the spring air. I remember— thinking of that line in Eliot, in The Waste Land, where he quotes Dante. “So many, I had not thought that death had undone so many.” But for months and months there was no burial of the dead, none at all.

It was not as bad as the battle itself, this living amongst the dead, but because we were fully conscious and thinking while going about our days it was much more— impactful, I suppose. Before I had always thought of the deceased as relics to be treated with respect, but seeing them lying where they died and dying where they lay, bloated and pale and so unnameably numerous, drove home to me the unimaginable insignificance of us, all of us, you and I and Wilfred and every other human being that is or was or ever shall be. (Isn’t that the phrase? I was raised Episcopalian, but that was so very long ago.) We are such ephemeral creatures, meat and spark, flickers in a howling void. Or, at least, it is hard not to conclude such things.

It must be strange for you, hearing sentiments so bitter from the lips of a young man. By now, though, you ought to have realized that I am not fully what I seem to be, and the face I wear is not wholly my own. “Life is very long,” to pull from dear Thomas again, and mine more than most. I have known so much, and seen so much, and yet— nothing I have seen or known has touched those days among the dead, those hours underneath the spring sky, looking into the faces of men I knew that know me no longer.

I met a god once, many years ago. Not one of the petty gods, mind you, but— whatever it is that is the proper term for the ones above them. (Perhaps it’s misleading to call them gods— they’re more like forces of nature, as fundamental and ineffable as gravity. The Norse have a term for their type: “they who sit beyond the shadow.”) In my youth I was an adventurer in more lands than our world knows, and I was…reckless. Foolhardy, and often too skilled in the ways of dreaming for my own good. I got it into my head to challenge a divine mandate that had been set down before me, and spent months and months questing after a desire I had only the vaguest idea of. Eventually my seeking led me to a mountain a thousand times greater than any on this planet, atop which I met— well. I probably shouldn’t say his name out loud. 

He tried to kill me, of course, because he was— is— cruel. Though that word, too, is misleading; would you call a human cruel for crushing a particularly noisome fly between his fingers? I can hardly blame him, really. Before that, though, he strode up to me and took my face in his hands and kissed me, which I found absurd at the time and still do now. What could possibly motivate such a being to focus his attention on me? I didn’t know. Still don’t, and I’m not sure I want to be given the answer.

But that isn’t the point. The point is that during the time I spent in his presence, with what must have been an infinitesimal sliver of his full attention focused on me, I felt as though I were— there’s no simile I could use to describe it. The closest I can come is that it was what an ant must feel, caught in a concentrated sunbeam reflected by a magnifying glass, at the moment just before it burns up. The term “under the microscope” is a pale shadow of what it was like, but it conveys the general sense. I couldn’t think or speak or move; I’ve been hypnotized before, and this was a thousand times more intense. I thought— to the extent that I could— that I was going to die, right there; I thought I would turn to ash in an instant, like Semele at the sight of Zeus. To this day I believe that if I had spent one more instant in his presence I would have been vaporized. His nearly killing me was a mercy.

That was how the war felt. That sense of ultimate, final, finitive insignificance in the face of something for which you have no name, something for which there is no name. The god I saw, the god who kissed me, he was the war made a brilliant mockery of flesh, and behind his golden eyes I saw the carnage I knew so well writ large across the whole of the cosmos. It is what this universe is made of. It is all that there is, and was, and ever shall be.

I nearly died a year and a half later, at Belloy-en-terre during the Battle of the Somme. A shell hit the ground directly behind me and flung me into the air as if I were a doll, scarring my back with shrapnel and nearly snapping my spine. As I lay there on my stomach in the mud of no-man’s-land, ears ringing and mind woozy, I could have sworn I felt a familiar hand on the nape of my neck.

After that I was too badly shell-shocked to fight. Once my wounds had been seen to, they sent me back stateside, and I finished recuperating in Boston— my cousin Ernest had graciously (for once) taken over the maintenance of my house in Beacon Hill during my absence, and I was welcomed back warmly by those of my friends who had not also gone off to war, willingly or not. And life went on, as it has a tendency to do in the world of the living. My life, strange and wondrous as it has been, continued on its course.

I dream often. Mostly of the war, sometimes of the god, frequently of both. I wonder how much of those latter dreams are my doing, and how much are his— I had a lover once who jokingly told me that I was “supernatural catnip,” and I’d thought it funny at the time. But I have a feeling I’m not being left entirely alone with my memories, such as they are.

[it-is-reigning-men]

History [Seth Rollins]

#73 "That night never happened!"

From prompt list for Anon! Gosh, this is late and I’m sorry for not posting a fic in awhile! This is to hold the space till that upcoming Roman / Finn smut comes out as well ~! ;D And I will, of course, be writing all other drabble requests <3

You weren't one to get drunk... for the exact reason that you ended up getting mixed up in after getting drunk last week.

God.

Alcohol really needed to be cleared from history. Humans would be better beings without it.

Last week you'd reluctantly gone out with a group of superstars, female and male alike, and had mostly been clinging to Naomi's side for most of the night. She was always a rock for you, even if she had been the one to force you on the outing in the first place.

But after she accused you of wasting your life and your "hottie body" as she exclaimed whilst getting you ready, you couldn't say no. You did sort of feel like you were wasting your life — granted, you were a successful star on Smackdown, but when it came to living outside of the ring you... weren't, really.

So yeah. You went to a local club with Naomi, Lana, Nia, and a handful of the guys: Rusev, Jimmy, Braun, Dean, and Seth, to name a few.

Honestly being with a few of your best girl friends and surrounded by so many strong (familiar) men did make you a bit more comfortable. If any thing did get out of hand you had plenty of people around to watch out for you.

Not that you weren't capable of taking care of yourself, but you were just unaccustomed to situations like this in the first place.

Hence why you got drunk so goddamn easily when you did start getting into things with the more experienced folk.

Needless to say, just one or two shots turned into five (ten.) Soon enough you were scooting closer to the man closest to your right, nudging into his muscular arm as you giggled and licked your alcohol infused lips.

"Never seen you like this," his voice rang, literally echoing in your ears as you blinked at him.

It was Seth.

The man.

"Yeah, I'm the Man." He chuckled, making it clear you'd said that last bit out loud. Goodness. You had never realized how much you liked his eyes.

He had long eyelashes.

"Thanks, so do you," he said, his arm grazing against yours as he mindlessly toyed with an empty shot glass on the table.

If it weren't for your equal drunkenness, one or both of you might've been disgusted with the heavy smell dancing between your close faces. Instead, the shared breath between you two became annoying - rather than disgusting - so you decided to get rid of it.

Or perhaps Seth decided.

Didn't matter once you were kissing.

His lips were warm. Shockingly soft. His tongue was gentle too.

You both got back to the hotel one way or another... and what happened after that wasn't all as gentle. You liked it. The parts you could recall the next morning, at least.

...

So. That's what got you here in the present. Last week was a since-passed headache, and you were back to your straight edge life. It was a miracle you had had the weekend to recover before the next Smackdown. Tonight was a Live show.

All was normal, up until Seth paid you a visit.

It was no secret Smackdown and Raw often visited the same places - if not the same town then a town nearby - so the intermingling happened occasionally. Even more so during Live events.

"Hey, Y/N."

You rose a brow at him, feeling horribly awkward in his presence. The pair of you had scarcely talked before that night, and now you had a connection you couldn't exactly erase.

That was likely what he wanted to talk about.

That was all he had to talk to you about, actually.

"I'm not gonna go talking about what happened with us, Seth." You scratched your head. "Aside from the people we were with," who obviously know what went down, this lil thing ain't getting out to the public gossip." You gestured briefly between you two.

His face stayed open, eyes round and mouth parted.

"Ahh... thanks."

You nodded, sweating a little.

"But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about,"

He shifted on his feet, looking mad at something. Not you. Himself.

"I mean, well, I guess it kinda is." Seth tried again, coming nearer and leaning his hip against the wall. "I wanted to... do it again sometime, if you wanted."

He didn't mean for it to come out like that, but the circumstance only made you more uneasy. You didn't like judging people you didn't know too well without finding it out personally; however, it was different when it came to relationship reps.

Needless to say, Seth didn't have the best track record with the women he'd been with.

You didn't want to be added to that list, especially since you hadn't even dated before jumping in bed together ... and now he was offering to be a booty call.

Or asking you to be a booty call?

You weren't good at this deciphering stuff.

Seth has time to relocate his mindset, starting again with a determined huff.

"Wait, wait. How I meant to say it was... do you want to go out with me sometime?"

You still weren't getting the picture, narrowing your eyes slightly.

"...A real date. And the sex part doesn't have to be part of it, least till you're actually comfortable."

He coughed.

"I mean. Unless you actually want to. I'm not gonna pressure you or anything, and you don't even have to say yes to the date part."

You'd honestly never seen him so flustered— not even when he was out acting a part in front of a crowd. You weren't sure what to think. Had he always acted all awkward at the start when he flirted with girls?

In the back of your mind all you could think of were those cheating scandals and the gossip the other female wrestlers always threw around. He did flirt with the others before. You didn't like judging based on gossip but sometimes ... when it was that consistent you couldn't help believing the lot of it.

And perhaps it didn't help that your ex had cheated on you while you were on the road.

Something surged inside you and you rubbed the corner of your eye, holding a hand up to stop Seth from possibly rambling again.

"As far as I'm concerned, that night never happened, okay? You don't have to feel obligated to ask me out just cause we were both drunk out of our minds the other night."

He blinked rapidly, thrown by your burst of energy. His eyes darted to the side.

You sighed.

There wasn't really much else to say, was there? You pressed your lips together and turned, wanting to get somewhere closer to the curtain area, given your match was coming up after the current match, which had only just started.

Somehow you already felt guilty for responding like that, even though you knew you had no personal reasons to have ill-will against Seth. Still. The sooner this blew over the sooner you could both move on with your lives.

“Hey—“

You didn’t fully stop, only slowed your steps.

“Listen, I know what you think of me. I know all the girls you hang out with,”

You looked at him with a slanted frown.

“As in, I know how they gossip. About everything.” You could tell he was trying his darnedest not to sound mean. His eyes were conflicted, but he kept them trained on your’s.

“I’m tired of people just... assuming they know all about me, when all they know is my past. Yeah. I fucked up, on more than one occasion.” He took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This definitely wasn’t the type of conversation he was accustomed to.

You wet your lips before pressing them together pensively, waiting till he was finished because, you supposed, he deserved that much.

“If you gave me a chance, I’d promise to... god,” his brows were furrowed and he looked you eye to eye again. “I’d promise to try my best not to mess it up. I like you, I couldn’t put into words why, because I’m sure you know we haven’t talked much, but, yeah.”

Your eyes fell to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed anxiously.

You really hoped you wouldn’t regret this. Maybe you were being naive. Or maybe you were being paranoid. Or maybe you just wanted to follow your damn instinct.

“...You... really are a dork.” It didn’t exactly come out as eloquently as you liked. But you meant that. Wow.

He might be a womanizer or a lying cheat - or maybe he was, at least - but a dork. Yeah. He was that too. So awkward and desperate, like you were the first girl he’d ever asked out.

“...What?” He stared on, totally lost. Was it supposed to be good ?

You spared the tiniest of smiles, not wanting to totally give in, or come off as too easy, only those big brown eyes made you smile a bit more anyway.

“Fine. Alright? One date won’t kill me, so you got your chance, Rollins.”

Seth puffed out a relieved breath, shaking his head.

“Okay, well, uh,” He scratched his beard. “I’ll text you then.” A small, nervous chuckle followed.

“You don’t have my number, hun.”

“Oh. Right-“

“Just find me after my match. It’s a phone number, not my social security.” You patted his shoulder, holding back a building laugh. “Bye.”

Seth’s eyes squeezed shut and he ran a heavy hand over the entirety of his face again; he was absolutely horrified at how bad this had went.

Thankfully, when he moved his hand and recuperated his wits, he smiled and just kept nodding his head.

“See you after you win, Y/N.”

People always say to learn from your history-- maybe this would be one of those times the future would turn out better than the past, for both of you.