#also not to sound like there's something wrong with me but i had a blast painting all the tombs 🪦

[valahelart]

A Midnight Dance

first version and notes under the cut!

So a little while ago, this concept came to me - of an 80s/early 90s goth girl who'd fall in love with a Victorian ghost she's accidentally summoned (or maybe she's the only one who can see her.) At first, I wanted to try a different style, lighter and more cartoon-y I suppose, which began to look like this:

But as I was struggling to render it, I realized it wasn't working and I didn't like the result at all - so I completely changed the whole sketch and vibe, and switched back to my usual style - which was for the best I think! 👻👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏼

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

How would the LADS men react to their MC being really sweet and soft spoken but become toxic during video games (screaming, cursing out players, laughing when they lose)

Crash Out

You were so composed and well spoken in public. Little did your man know what he was in for when it came to you and video games. A/N: I watch a whole lot of CoryxKenshin, Berleezy, Joeiaco, PeegTV, and Britani so I kinda (hella) be screaming and crashing out everytime I play video games CW: Strong language

Zayne

Zayne is the type thats worried about your cortisol levels as he’s watching you yell at the tv. He would definitely brings you cold water and some fruit while trying to gently coax you off the game for a while, but would only end up doing as you say which is to leave you the hell alone.

You currently have a death grip on your controller and trying very hard not to yell into the mic on your headset. You failed.

MC: You fuck ass camping bitch what kind of bullshit is this?!

Zayne: Uh honey?

MC: Yes baby?

You leave the match — slamming your headset to the ground — and focus on Zayne giving him with the most innocent look

Zayne: Are you alright?

MC: Im good why?

Zayne: You sound like you’ve forgotten yourself

MC: Oh because this musty PT Cruiser built bitch was camping the third floor during the entire match pissin’ me the fuck off

Zayne: …

MC: …

Zayne: Why don’t you take a break?

MC: I will

You give him the sweetest smile before grabbing your headset and slipping it back on your head

MC: Right after I blast this little bitch to hell and laugh in their face

Zayne: ……….ok

Rafayel

Rafayel is the type to just check in sparingly to avoid being the one in the line of fire. He was not trying to catch a stray when you were raging, but he also just wanted his girlfriend back, but instead he had hot headed Hades on his hands. Rafayel comes in to find you at your PC set up he can tell something is wrong even with your back to him

Rafayel: You seem angry

MC: I CAN’T BEAT THIS STUPID FUCKING GAME

Rafayel: WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?!

MC: I’M NOT YELLING AT YOU

Rafayel: YES YOU ARE

MC: *Heavy sigh* I’m playing this game Scrutinized and I'm supposed to file all these reports while also making rounds around the house because there's two killers trying to kidnap me and I don’t fucking understand how this lucky charms bitch keeps getting in the house

Rafayel: Have you tried taking a break?

MC: I DON’T NEED A FUCKING BREAK I NEED TO BEAT THIS MANS ASS WITH A SKILLET AND HOT GRITS

Rafayel: ……..I miss my sweet girlfriend where did she go?

MC: Im sorry Raf

You pull him how down by his collar and give him a quick kiss

MC: Check back in an hour I should be done with night 1 by then

Rafayel nods and leaves you to scream at your computer. He silently leaves littles treats on the desk for you. He’s scared he might be the one to receive your wrath if he bugs you too much.

Rafayel: Done yet?

MC: BITCH GET UP OH MY GOSH

Rafayel: nervermind ._.

Xavier

The type that tries to help, but only ends up pissing you off unintentionally. He just wants to help, but you don’t want his help because you know the second he gets his hands on the game he’ll not only beat it, but would beat it in record time.

MC: I’m about to rage I'm about to rage I’m about to rage

Xavier brings you a glass of water and sits it on your desk

Xavier: What's wrong baby?

MC: I have yet to beat this fucking game this damn Nun from hell keeps spawning everywhere

Xavier: What game is it?

MC: Nun Massacre

Xavier: You don’t seem like yourself want me to try?

MC: Xavier I love you however if I let you try this game and you beat it in one go Im not eating with you for a week.

Xavier: I just don’t like seeing you stressed

MC: and I don’t like seeing this refrigerator built bitch get the best of me

Xavier: and you don’t want my help?

MC: No

Xavier: Are you sure

MC: Yes

Xavier: ……you’re sure?

MC: Ask me one more time and see what happens

Sylus

Sylus is so amused seeing you get so mad over a game. He’ll be egging you on for sure he’s not even trying to make it better. He wants to see your anger practically radiating off of you. You’re on the brink of raging? He’s chuckling in the background. You’re about to slam your hands on your keyboard or throw your controller? Go ahead he’ll buy you a new one.

MC: *yelling into the headset* FUCK YOU BITCH …. YOU SOUND LIKE YOU’RE EASY TO DRAW SHUT THE FUCK UP TALKING TO ME TURN YO MIC DOWN

Sylus: *Chuckling* like they’re easy to draw?

MC: YES! That bitch was just mad because I found her camping spot and sniped her ass

Sylus: You should do it again just to make her mad

MC: Oh trust me I'm on her ass now her play style is corny I'm not letting her team win this match

Sylus: Would you like me to bring you anything while you show her who’s boss?

MC: Water and some cherries please

Sylus: I’ll be back in a minute

Sylus walks out and can still hear you yelling all the way in the kitchen

MC: GET FUCKED BITCH SUCK MY DICK

Sylus brings backs what you asked for and kisses your cheek before making himself comfortable to watch you cuss people out over a game.

Sylus: A dragon growing her horns

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[angelsberrymilk]

I had never thought about shipping Soldier Boy and Sam, and now they won't leave my mind 👁️👄👁️

I need more of them!!!

soldier boy is mean and crazy, especially after being held captive for like 40 years and so when he finally escapes he realises everything changed and ppl have forgotten him as a hero. and it seems like the only person who genuinely cares abt him is this bright eyed guy who's freakishly tall and has princess hair, Sam, he said his name was.

the thing is, soldier boy's name is Ben, not freaking dean, and who's Dean anyway??? but that doesn't matter when Sam is there looking after him and is like, so glad he found him and hugs him so tight, and soldier boy misses the physical contact, misses human affection.

don't get me wrong now, soldier boy is a bad man, he's really shitty and everyone would be safer if he died, but luckily Sammy is there to distract him from committing crimes, or at least some of them.

Sammy knows that's not his brother, but that's a version of his brother, he wears his face and sounds like him, and he likes greasy burgers and shitty diner food, as it happens, so there's similarities after all. Sammy doesn't care that the more he looks into this guy, the more scary, and fucked up shit he finds abt him, this version of Dean is NOT good, he's a total maniac. but the only reason he's like this is because he doesn't have sam in this universe, doesn't have Bobby or Castiel or even Baby.

Soldier Boy drags Sammy with him whenever they go and Sammy follows, he listens to Sam trying to explain he's from another universe and that in the other universe they're brothers, and all soldier boy says is, "I'm not your brother," Sammy is a bit confused but keeps going and tells him abt monsters they hunt, demons, angels and soldier boy listens, and all he takes away from that speech is that Sammy is definitely on something, and soldier boy WANTS some from what he's having.

Sam also quickly realises that in this universe, people have superpowers, so gets cornered once at a gas stop by someone who can turn their skin into burning lava, and Sammy quickly realises he's vulnerable here, he doesn't know the first thing to fight off these people, it's a scary world, but then soldier boy shows up, and he's furious, blasts that person away and goes to town on them, he's animalistic, sadistic and brutal, with every hit, with every crunch and every rip, Sammy flinches, blood and fire flying everywhere.

and when soldier boy is done he has a wild look on his face, he's satisfied with his work, so he drags a shaking Sammy back in the car and Sammy just starts crying, he doesn't make any noises either and the man doesn't even know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think off and hugs him tight, and as soon as he wraps his inhumanly strong arms around Sammy, Sammy starts to sob. and soldier boy thinks of how to calm him down, so he thinks of westerns he's watched where the main lead would comfort the girl after she gets kidnapped or hurt, so he does just that, rocks them a little, runs his hands down Sammy's back and stroked his hair, shushing and cooing at him, that nobody will hurt him, not if soldiers there, not if deans there.

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

Hi everyone

So i hate to do this again, but due to both personal stresses and the state of the world I’m officially going on an indefinite hiatus. I love running this blog and helping people but one, i have a ton of stressors happening in my personal life, and two, it feels wrong running a silly little gimmick blog when people are being needlessly slaughtered, persecuted against, and dehumanized in huge numbers for simply being, in the US, in Palestine, Sudan, Ghana, and so many other places. I’m black, trans, AFAB, and neurodivergent living in the US, so daily I’ve had to deal with trauma personal to me in the states while trying to do what I can to take action against the atrocities happening overseas. All that to say there are significantly more important things I think should be being done than running a gimmick blog on tumblr. As much as I love this platform and have had a blast with it, it’s also kinda terrible for my mental health, and something bad for my mental health has to go before I completely break down. I love y’all and have had a great time. If ever the world calms down, perhaps I’ll come back, but for now I’m deleting tumblr and stepping back.

It might sound selfish but I’m also not gonna be offering to hand off this blog to anyone else, this was a really fun personal thing for me to explore my special interest and as somebody who doesn’t have a ton to myself and is not interested in chasing any sort of legacy, I don’t feel any urge to keep it going under someone else’s moderation. I’d never had a platform before this so I’d like to keep it 100% mine, even when I’m not in a place to run it. I know that might be a bit of a controversial choice but it’s the one that feels right to me.

Thanks for coming along with me on this fun little project. Sorry for the things I said I’d do eventually that never came to fruition. Keep loving cars and learning about them, I hope at least a couple people who follow me here pursue that interest.

Love you all. Free Palestine.

- Alyx/identifying-cars-in-posts

[lilyswritings]

called it !

synopsis: academic rivals to lovers with jordan li. need i say more?

author’s note: i watched gen v lastt fall and fell absolutely head over heels for jordan li, and ever since then i've had the brainrot of thinking non-stop about academic rivals/enemies to lovers with them, and.... well, anyway, here's the result of that! took me a ridiculously long amoung of time so i hope you guys enjoy — it's actually my birthday today, so here's my birthday gift to you all! <3 also, in case the powers get confusing i figured i would explain ahead of time lol : reader’s powers are energy absorption/redistribution — when skin on skin contact is made, reader can absorb energy from others, and can redistribute it through blasts of energy/heightened strength <3

wordcount: 4,390.... buckle in, i'm insane.

Jordan Li x Reader

"God, they are so fucking annoying." You grumble, sinking lower into your chair as you watch Jordan Li tug some pretty new freshman into one of the rows of bookshelves, signature smirk plastered on their lips as they seek somewhere private. The freshman giggles and blinks up at them with big doe eyes as they disappear behind the stacks, and you roll your eyes dramatically. "Like, get a room, am I right?"

It's insufferable.

Your table is suddenly quiet, too quiet, and when you look back over at your friends they're exchanging sideways glances with each other, lips pressed together. "Okay, what's up with you two?" You demand, exasperated, and Emma shrugs, biting her lip.

"Sounds like someone's jealous." The last word comes out in a sing-song voice and your mouth drops open, aghast.

"What? Why the hell would I be—?" You sputter, glancing between them, and Marie raises her eyebrows at you.

"Oh, come on, it's like you two are... Magnetic, or something. They walk by, you watch, you enter a room, they appear moments later. It's kind of sweet." Marie tucks a braid behind her ear as she talks, brown eyes blinking at you.

"Uh, no, no no —" You're flailing, taken completely aback by what your friends are saying. Okay, fine, you might have had a crush on Jordan for a good two years at this point, but it's not like you ogle them whenever they're in the room with you, or, well—

Okay, so maybe you do, but they definitely aren't ogling back at you, and that's what matters. "That's so entirely not what's happening here."

It's no secret on campus that you and Jordan don't like each other — ever since Brink decided to hire you as another teaching assistant for him, Jordan has taken every possible chance to fuck with you, and vice versa.

A stack of papers you graded for Brink will disappear only to helpfully be found by Jordan a day later, filed in the 'wrong place' — you know damn well you filed them correctly — or you'll swoop in and pick up Brink's coffee order before Jordan has the chance to, smiling widely at your boss when he tells you that you always get his order 'just right'.

Yes, it's petty, but they started it. They can't stand not being Brink's favourite anymore, so they take it out on you. You, in turn, wreak your own little havoc on their life, having attempted the agreeable and polite route first, only to be scoffed at and ignored at every turn — so, if they want to play it like this, then so be it.

Marie and Emma sneak a glance at each other again and you scoff. "Oh my god! Seriously, you guys! That's so not what's going on there, and— I don't even know where you got that idea in the first place."

"Okay, sure, whatever you say." Marie holds up her hands in a surrendering motion, reaching down to pick her pen back up, and you nod, glad that they're finally dropping the matter, until you look back up and catch your blonde friend peering over her laptop at you, a mischievous look in her big blue eyes.

"It's adorable, though, really, that you think you're hiding it." Emma tacks on unhelpfully, and you toss your pencil at her, her ensuing giggle only succeeding in riling you up even more.

"You guys are way off base." You finally muster up your composure enough to retort, gaze focused firmly on the assignment in front of you. "They're the bane of my existence."

You do, however, sneak a sly glance up as Jordan and their cute little companion exit the bookshelves, smirking, and you can't suppress your nose scrunching up at the sight of their hand resting on the curve of the freshman's back.

So annoying, you think, turning back to write your paper, completely missing the knowing glance exchanged between your friends as Jordan peeks over their shoulder at you right before leaving the library.

A few days later, you find yourself in the training room, trying to channel your frustration into something productive. The poor defenseless sparring dummy in front of you is taking the brunt of your anger, but the real source of your irritation is fueled by an interaction you had with Jordan earlier that day.

It was during your Combat Tactics class, a course where you and Jordan are both top students, constantly trying to outdo each other. The two of you had been paired up for a demonstration, something that tends to bring out the worst streak of competitiveness in the both of you.

The exercise was supposed to be a simple takedown — no powers involved — but of course, nothing’s simple when it comes to you and Jordan. The instructor had barely finished explaining the guidelines when Jordan had shifted to their female form, quick as lightning, darting towards you to try and catch you off guard.

You barely managed to counter, blindsided, briefly side stepping out of their path, but before you knew it, Jordan had doubled down, shifting into their male form and using their superior strength to pin you against the mat.

“Too slow." They’d taunted, dark eyes glimmering with victory as they leaned down, keeping you immobilized.

Your blood had boiled at the sound of their smug tone, and with a surge of your power, your eyes had lit up and blasted a bright light in their face, managing to flip the situation and pin them beneath you. You smirked as you leaned down, eyes still aglow, and caught Jordan looking at you with something that could almost be construed as admiration.

Your instructor's voice cut through the tension, telling you off for using your powers, and your heart dropped as she informed you that you'd failed the exercise.

The smirk on Jordan’s face as they got up told you everything — you might have won the round, but they’d gotten under your skin and made you fuck up in front of a teacher.

“Tough luck.” They’d said, acting as if they had no part in what just happened, and your brow furrowed.

“It wasn’t luck,” You’d shot back, your voice low and tense. “You goaded me into that.”

Jordan had simply shrugged, a smug smile on their face as they backed out of the room, an action that lit your blood on fire.

Now, as you throw yet another punch at the dummy, you can’t stop replaying the way they’d looked at you — like they were enjoying pushing your buttons and causing you to fuck up in front of the whole class. It drives you crazy, the way they always manage to get a rise out of you, no matter how hard you try to keep your cool.

There's a gust of air that alerts you to the opening of the door to the training room behind you, and you don’t even need to look to know it’s them.

Jordan saunters into the room, their presence filling the space with that same infuriating confidence as they quirk an eyebrow at you, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail and workout clothes on that leave nothing to the imagination about their feminine form.

God, focus.

“Still working on that form, rookie?” They quip as they lean against a pillar, their tone light but with an undercurrent of smugness that makes your teeth clench.

“The form that beat you earlier?” You retort, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice as you raise an eyebrow at them.

Jordan smirks, clearly amused. “Should I be impressed that you're winning the fight against the inanimate object?" They push off the pillar and saunter closer. “You know, if you want to get better, you should train with something that can actually fight back.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing full well this is just another one of their games. “Thanks, but I don’t need your help.”

“Scared you’ll lose?”

“Scared you’ll get your ass handed to you again.” You retort, your competitive streak flaring up.

Jordan’s eyes gleam with a challenge, and before you know it, they’ve beckoned you into the ring with them. Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline already raised from the tension of the earlier fight and your sparring before they’d arriver.

They cock their head at you, raising an eyebrow, and you grit your teeth. As soon as they go to land a blow on you, your hand latches around their wrist, your powers kicking in as you begin to draw energy from them. 

Your eyes start to glow, alerting them to your move, and they tug their arm away from you and blast you with a beam of light, something you just barely duck out of the path of. You manage to shift your weight and throw a punch back at them, but they switch forms at the last second and it your fist lands on what feels like a concrete wall. 

  The sparring match lasts a while, an intense match where neither of you are willing to back down first. Jordan is quick, but when in their masculine form you’re faster, landing blows that surprise even yourself. But Jordan catches on to some of your moves and soon the match devolves into a close-quarters struggle.

At one point, you find yourself beneath them, their hands locked around your wrists, pinning you to the ground, dark eyes locked on yours. The proximity is overwhelming, and for a split second, something shifts in the air between you. 

You can see the glint in their eyes, a mix of triumph and something else — something that makes your heart pound in a way that has nothing to do with the fight. Their eyes dart down your face, their grip on your wrists faltering, and you take seize your chance to tug out a hand and latch onto their wrist, absorbing some of their energy and temporarily breaking their super strength advantage over you. 

With that burst of energy you maneuver out from under them and roll away, getting back on your feet.

Jordan’s eyebrows are raised when they stand back up, seemingly impressed as they look down at their hands, clearly feeling weaker than usual. “Not bad, rookie.” 

“Was that a compliment?” You smirk, and their own lips curve in response.

“Was that a smile?” They gasp dramatically, and you force your face to go blank again as you spin on your heel to leave, finding it harder to keep the smile off your face.

“Don’t get used to it.” You shoot back as you leave the gym, but your words hold no venom and you miss the bright smile that cracks open Jordan’s face as you disappear down the corridor.

Three days later, Brink announces that he wants you and Jordan to work together to plan an upcoming fundraiser for Godolkin, much to Jordan's dismay. Normally, this sort of thing would be left entirely up to Jordan, but for some reason Brink wanted you in on it as well.

Which leads to now — you, stood in front of your locker, attempting to get in contact with Jordan for the umpteenth time. They're throwing a tantrum at having to share the project with you, and it's really starting to piss you off. You try their phone again, cursing when you get voicemail yet again.

"Look, Jordan, this wasn't my decision, so stop punishing me for it. It's what Brink wants, and we have got to get together to start planning. This is my fifth time calling," You tack on, getting irritated. "Pick up the fucking phone, you're acting like a child. You can't ignore me forever." You finish, ending the call with an exasperated sigh.

You curse again, your eyes beginning to glow faintly as your anger begins to get the best of you, but you take a calming breath and will your eyes to fade back to normal. Making a scene in the hallway isn't going to help anyone. You've just about calmed yourself down when you spot a familiar head of black hair a few feet down the hallway and your mouth drops open when you spot Jordan and their friends.

"Motherfucker..." You curse, the visual confirmation that they are indeed ignoring you relighting your anger.

"Jordan." You call after them, brows furrowing as they begin to disappear down the busy hallway. You scoff as you continue after them, irritated by being lured into a chase. "Jordan!"

You know they can hear you when they half-turn their head and shift into their female form, now shorter than most of the crowd, causing you to lose sight of them and pissing you off even more as they continue their brisk pace down the hallway.

You stand on your tiptoes, trying to get a good look at them again, when someone grabs your arm and roughly tugs you towards them. When you look up, your eyes land on campus sleazebag Rufus, a smug smile plastered on his face, and your eyes glow immediately at the sight of him.

"Nice light show." He snarks, stepping into your personal space, and your hands begin to emit light as well, your built-up anger from the day coming to a head.

"Fuck off." You would hope your building powers make him get the memo, but he just steps closer to you, effectively backing you into a locker with nowhere to go.

"Do you also light up when, you know..." His eyes dart down the length of your body and your nose scrunches in disgust as you tug your arm, trying to get out of his grip, but his stupid advanced strength means he keeps a firm grip on you.

You open your mouth to tell him where he can shove it, when—

"Back the fuck up." Jordan seems to materialize at your side, suddenly almost a foot taller in their male form, glower plastered to their face. Rufus' smug expression drops, definitely not prepared to go head to head with the second ranked supe at God U.

"Yeah, whatever." Rufus scoffs, dropping your arm and practically high-tailing it away, leaving you rubbing at the spot on your arm where he was holding you.

Once he's gone, Jordan turns back to you, peering down at you with crossed arms. "You good?" Their dark eyes search yours, and you roll your eyes dramatically in response.

"Oh, so now you're not ignoring me?" They look taken aback, and you take the opportunity to plant your hands on your hips.

"I wasn't ignoring you, I was busy."

You scoff. "Too busy to check your phone?"

"Whatever." They turn to walk away, and you can't help yourself from opening your mouth again.

"I didn't need your help, by the way. I was handling that just fine."

They stop, facing you again and folding their arms together, one dark eyebrow quirked. "Sure you were."

"I was! I didn't need you to swoop in, Number Two. I'm not some civilian in distress."

"Yeah, well, you're lucky he didn't get into your head and fuck with it."

"Oh, please. If he'd even tried I would have blasted his ass all the way to the Vought-A-Burger." At that, you spot their mouth curl up at the edges, a sight that makes warmth fill your stomach.

Just as they open their mouth again, their dark eyes land on something behind you and their mouth clamps shut. You spin to find Emma and Marie approaching, the two women glancing between you and Jordan and you can practically smell the avalanche of teasing you're about to endure.

"I'll text you." Jordan nods as they practically spin on their heel and disappear, and you purse your lips together just as Emma appears in front of you, jaw dropped in a dramatic expression as she turns to watch Jordan leave.

"They'll 'text you'?" Marie quotes, eyes wide, and you roll your eyes.

"For an assignment from Brink. Seriously, quit it. It's not what you think." Right as you're in the middle of scolding her for her assumption, your phone pings, and when you glance at the lit-up screen, a text from Jordan awaits you —

Lunch tomorrow?

Your lips twist into a smile before you can help it and right as you realize your mistake your phone is snatched out of your hand. Emma gasps, turning the phone towards Marie whose eyes light up as she reads the text on the screen.

"You liiiiike them, you wanna kiiiiiiss them." Emma teases, her voice lilting in a sing-song tone, and you snatch your phone back out of her hand.

"What are you, twelve?" You roll your eyes, but there's definitely a flush rising to your cheeks, one that neither of your friends lets go unnoticed.

"I knew this was going to happen, I just didn't think it would be so soon." Marie comments, and you groan, knowing the two of them are never going to let this go.

Lunch the next day does not go as planned.

Brink, at the last minute, decides to tag along and 'listen in' to your brainstorming session, nullifying the brief camaraderie sparked between you and Jordan the day before. Sitting opposite them in an empty classroom, going over details for the fundraiser, it’s been nothing but tension from the start — you figure that their switch up in attitude it due to their role as Brink's TA, their competitiveness just can't let things be.

“I think a good idea could be a silent auction. Maybe we could get some of the alumni to donate—” You begin, but Jordan cuts you off with a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at them across the room.

“Silent auctions are so overdone. We need something newer, something more exciting for the donors.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your gaze fixed on them. “Silent auctions bring in a lot of money, which is kind of the point. And it’s not about excitement, it’s about class.”

Jordan smirks. “Class doesn’t have to be boring.”

The tension is palpable, and Brink’s eyes dart between the two of you, clearly amused by the back-and-forth. “Why don’t you both try to combine your ideas? Maybe add something 'exciting' to the silent auction?”

“Fine,” You say through gritted teeth, glaring at Jordan. “How about... We let people bid on experiences instead of items? Like a day with a famous supe, or… A tour of a Vought movie set.” 

Jordan nods slowly, almost as if they’re surprised by the suggestion. “That could work…”

You share a brief, almost reluctant, moment of agreement before the tension returns, both of you battling for Brink’s approval over the smaller details still left to work out.

A week later, the day of the fundraiser finally arrives, and you find yourself swept away in organizing the final details right up until the event begins. The halls of Godolkin are flooded by well-dressed snobs, both supe and human alike, and you lose yourself amongst the crowd, ensuring everything runs as smoothly as possible.

You find yourself in an outfit entirely out of your comfort zone, both fitting the upscale theming of the event, as well as highlighting your best features. You can thank Emma and Marie for this one — they'd practically squealed when you'd tried it on, insisting you buy it. You’ve received more than a few compliments, but the one person whose approval you’re secretly hoping for has also been lost to the crowd, and you haven't managed to spot them yet.

You finally find a moment to duck out as Brinkerhoff takes over and starts the auction, and you find yourself slipping outside, needing a moment to breathe after the chaos. The cool night air is a welcome relief, and you lean against the brick wall to catch your breath.

There's a shift in the atmosphere, the subtle awareness that comes when someone’s eyes are on you. You turn your head and your eyes fall on Jordan, standing near the entrance, their dark gaze locked on you.

For the barest of moments, they remain frozen, eyes widened slightly — your heart stutters a beat when you notice the way they're taking in the sight of you, something dark and admiring in their gaze.

A flush of warmth spreads through you like wildfire, paired with a simmering satisfaction at knowing that you've caught the untouchable Jordan Li off guard, and even rendered them speechless. They make a quick recovery, but the way they begin to approach you feels — different. Changed.

"You... You look good." They swallow, nodding as they approach you, and your lips twist into a smile at their awkwardness. You can't blame them, though, as your mouth dries out when you get a good look at them in a tailored suit, dark and figure-hugging, with a dangerous plunge in the front.

“You too." You nod, attempting and failing to recover smoothly. "Came to gloat?" It's easier to slip into your well-worn rivalry, and after Brink celebrated Jordan in front of most of the party earlier tonight, you figured they'd be feeling rather smug about finally winning over you in a way that mattered.

“Actually, no.” They say, gaze falling to the floor, voice unusually soft. "I don't think that was fair — and also, to say, well. Thank you. This went off without a hitch, and... That's because of you. It's been... Good to work with you."

You blink, entirely taken aback by the compliment. “I mean, we both made it happen,” You admit, glancing at them. “You had some good ideas too.” You throw in a tease at the end, for good measure.

They huff out a laugh, their gaze coming back up to meet yours, an unexpected intensity there, before they take a casual step closer. “You always have to get the last word in, don't you?"

"Someone's gotta keep you humble." You retort, cheeks flushing as they step even closer, and they roll their eyes dramatically.

"If you would just listen for a moment..." Another step, and your breath hitches entirely. "I've enjoyed spending time with you. Even if you're a pain in the ass sometimes."

Despite the rising intensity between you, you find yourself retorting anyway. "I'm a pain in the ass? What about all the times you—" They raise an eyebrow, and your brain seems to finally catch up, noting that they are now standing barely two feet in front of you.

“Christ, rookie, you ever gonna let me finish?” Jordan curses, eyebrow raised, stepping even closer into your space, and your breath hitches as you fully catch on.

“Oh- oh.”

“Oh.” They mimic, dragging their hand up your side to rest on your hip.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Their voice is barely more than a whisper as they lean in, and you nod, unwilling to risk ruining this. "Yes, you're a pain in the ass," They mutter, their voice low. "But I've been an idiot as well."

"How so?" You utter, heart still stuttering in your chest as you glance between their eyes and their lips. Your line of sight doesn't go unnoticed, and Jordan's lips tug into a knowing smirk.

Jordan's dark eyes drop to the ground for a moment, smirk dropping as they tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “I think I’ve been using this... Rivalry, or whatever, as an excuse to keep my distance from you."

At this, your brows furrow, still intensely aware of their hand on your hip and your proximity to each other, but their words confuse you. "Why do you need an excuse to keep your distance from me?"

A scoff from their lips. "Jesus, you are gonna make me spell it out. Well... Because I wasn’t sure how to deal with how I feel about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits. “How you feel about me?”

Jordan nods, their expression softening. "I've never liked someone this much, and you act like you wish I would drop off the face of the planet half the time, and.... Well, it’s been driving me crazy..”

You stare at them, trying to process what you’ve just heard. You can practically hear Marie and Emma screaming in your ear "I told you so!", after you've spent your whole time at Godolkin pining for someone you thought you'd never have a chance with, only to prove they've been doing the same thing.

“We're both fucking idiots." You confirm, a breathy laugh escaping your lips, your hand coming up to hover in front of your mouth incredulously.

Jordan chuckles, the sound light and genuine, their eyebrows raising as they take in your reaction. “Does this mean you don't actually hate —”

Before they can finish, you close the narrow distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as your lips seal against theirs. It’s excited and awkward and tentative at first, but when Jordan responds by deepening the kiss, the tension between you melts away and you find yourself wrapping your arms around their neck, pressing your body into them as months of heated exchanges come to a culmination.

When you finally pull back for breath, the two of you panting softly, still enveloped in each other's arms, you let out a soft laugh that Jordan echoes.

“Guess we were both wrong.” They utter, leaning down to seal their lips against yours again briefly, their eyes shining with something new, something real. “And I guess this was a good time for me to have been wrong for the first time ever.”

You laugh out loud, shoving at their shoulder, feeling weightless in this moment.

Your phone pings in your pocket, and you sigh, reluctantly pulling it from a hidden pocket in your outfit — believe it or not, you're still technically at your job, and if Brink needs you, you need to be available. "Sorry." You utter to Jordan, before opening the text you'd received and gasping.

"Motherfucker!" Your head whips around to glare into the darkness, bright screen of your phone illuminated by a blurry photo of you and Jordan mid-kiss, sent by Marie in your groupchat.

The text underneath from Emma reads simply,

'Called it!'

[21280]

SECOND DATE UPDATE!

izuku midoriya got ghosted by you after the first date! so, he turns to mic's radio show segment in an act of desperation to know what happened... fem reader (pronoun only used once), y/n had mic as a homeroom teacher before. post war.

midoriya is incredibly nervous as he stands by on the other line as mic's cheery voice blasts through his ear and through the radios of thousands, mic's words sounding incoherent as his mind races on the possible outcomes. though, he's sure there's only one.

he's going to be absolutely humiliated.

"so midoriya here had a nice at home date with a person named y/n, and according to him, everything was super fun! when he asked for a second date, he's been hit with nothing but excuses! so he’s waiting here in the other line while we ring up his date…"

riiiing.

it's an unknown number. you shrug, choosing to answer the call.

"hello?"

"hey hey hey! is this y/n?"

you recognize the voice coming from your speaker, your lips curling into a smile. "is this mr. yamada? oh my, yes this is she! it's been a while."

you can hear him chuckle, "how're ya doing, kiddo? i've seen you pop up on my newsfeed the other day—but we're here on official biz. i'm calling from put your hands up radio because there's this listener of ours that you went on a date with..."

"oh shoot" you say, "um, who is it?"

"do you remember going out with midoriya?"

oh god no, you think. your mind suddenly becomes flooded with images and memories of the past week, where you spent a few hours over at midoriya’s apartment. what was the purpose of all this—did he spill the beans to your homeroom teacher?

you sigh as you shake your head, "yes, i do remember him."

"that sigh tells me it wasn't a good date, now, was it?" mic asks, his curiosity is evident. "wanna tell me what he did wrong?"

you awkwardly chuckle, "midoriya's a really good guy, i swear!"

"but you've been blowin him off ever since your date! i've seen you on the papers, but are you reaaally busy or is that just a load of cap?" mic pressures, and you can only imagine his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"i did? my bad, i've been real busy with the agency i haven't had the time to reply to anyone.."

there's a few seconds of silence, before mic speaks up. "producer here told me you posted on your socials a few hours ago, so unless you have a team who posts selfies of you buying tea, you've been on your phone, my dear y/n" he laughs, "now spill. what happened with midoriya?"

"well, we had a nice dinner at his house, and we played some board games and watched three all might documentaries."

mic scoffs and laughs, “that does sound like a midoriya, alright. but hey—that seems like a nice date—what happened?”

you were unsure of whether or not you wanted to speak up, but decided to do so. “he just wouldn’t stop talking about all might! and, i know he’s his father figure or something but come on! even during dinner he kept mentioning how all might liked cedar from yakushima so he got a cedar scented candle because of that. we played all might themed board games. geez—even when i went to the bathroom he had an all might towel and soap dispenser. i damn nearly fell asleep during the second documentary and he shook me awake because i was missing the best part of it.”

by now, mic is exploding in laughter, the faint sound of his fist banging the table being heard. there’s a couple giggles heard in the background too, from his producer and other guests present.

“oh my god i didn’t know.”

your eyes widen in shock as you realize who the voice belonged to. mic clears his throat, “so, midoriya’s on the other line because he wanted to speak to you and know what he did wrong, and also to ask for a second date! surprise!”

you nearly choke on your spit as you hear his voice through your phone’s speaker. “i really didn’t know you didn’t like all might, but i mean you should’ve said something! we watched the top three documentaries!”

“did you ask me if i wanted to watch three documentaries about all might, midoriya?”

“you’re right—i’m so sorry” midoriya apologizes, and it seems genuine. you know he’s the type of guy to be oblivious at times, so you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“is there any way i can make it up to you? a dinner at a restaurant, a trip, we can even watch documentaries of your favorite hero in return! i really like you, y/n, and i would like another chance.”

you can’t stop your heart from beating quicker when those words left his mouth. he’s a lover boy through and through, and he’s truly devoted to what he likes.

“edgeshot. i want an edgeshot interview compilation marathon.”

you can practically hear midoriya smile, “okay, great! i actually know a lot about him, did you know that during the war he—“

“oookay! looks like it’s all settled” mic chuckles, “i think it’s the first time we’ve had a second date update success!”

[rechorites]

ao3

The first promise Hermione ever makes to Draco is an innocuous one.

He’s been annoying her all morning: drumming his fingers against his desk; fussing at the tea trolley about being out of cauldron cakes; tapping his quill against parchment in a way that is both highly irritating and also bad for the quill, by the way. They’ve only been working at the Ministry together for three months, still both considered fresh new employees, not yet worthy of any serious projects.

It’s—Well, Hermione’s bored too. If she’s honest.

“Malfoy, I swear, if you just stop making noise for ten minutes, I’ll take you up to the cafe and get you a bloody cauldron cake.”

He shuts up after that, so quiet it’s almost eerie. Hermione finishes reading the report she’s working on (23 mistakes! She’s not sure how any of these so-called ‘managers’ got hired in the first place, truth be told) and puts down her quill.

She tries to forget about Malfoy’s presence, as she always does.

It’s very hard when he’s suddenly looming over her.

“Can I help you, Malfoy?” she asks, not looking up at him. He’s very tall, she’s noticed lately.

“I believe I was promised a cauldron cake.”

Hermione huffs. She was rather hoping he’d forgotten.

“Fine. But we’ve got only got 15 minutes before the meeting with Transportation, so you’d better not dawdle.”

“I don’t dawdle, Granger.” He gives her a smirk.

She gives him a look that she hopes comes off as scathing, and not at all charmed.

They are, in fact, late to the meeting with Transportation.

---

“Granger, if you send this one owl for me, please…”

The please is tacked on as an afterthought, the sound of it from Malfoy’s mouth unfamiliar in the extreme.

“If I send this owl for you, Malfoy, everyone’s going to get in touch with me about this bloody… shindig.”

“Exactly, Granger.”

She frowns at him. Malfoy had been much less irritating lately, in general, and sometimes she found they actually got along.

“What do I get in return, then?” she asks reluctantly, halfway ready to just send the owl to stop his wheedling.

Malfoy smiles devilishly at her. “What would you like, Granger?”

There are quite a few inappropriate responses she can think of to that question, the way he’s been brushing his hand on her shoulder when he walks past her desk the past few weeks, the figure he cuts in his well-tailored robes. She blushes, and his smile seems to get wider.

“You’ll take Percy’s reports for the next… three weeks,” she says, scrambling for something politic.

“My pleasure.” Not enough of an ask, then.

“…and you can answer every stupid request that gets sent to me for the next week.”

He gives her a confused look. “Do you get many of those?”

She laughs. “Are you serious? Malfoy, I get about five a day. Don’t you?”

“Not a one.” He swings his feet up to the desk, looking at her amused. “You’re not scary enough, Granger. That’s why. I promise that after this week, you’ll never get another stupid request again.”

Hermione purses her lips in disbelief. That’s a big promise.

“I’ll hold you to it, Malfoy.”

---

“For fuck’s sake, Boot, if you come and bother Granger again I’m going to turn you into a Blast-Ended Skrewt and shove you down the lift shaft.”

Hermione smiles behind her cup of tea. Malfoy’s threats had become much more amusing throughout the week, escalating as the array of people who thought she knew everything about everything—which, to be fair, she often did—sent owls, were disappointed, sent more owls, and finally came to visit her when Malfoy’s hastily (and rudely) penned notes weren’t enough.

She’s grown to quite like him, actually.

“Cauldron cake, Malfoy?” she asks, pulling one out of the drawer that she’d brought down earlier from the cafe. The tea trolley on their floor always runs out by nine, and Malfoy was fastidiously on time, never a minute early.

He plucks it out of her hands and sits down heavily on his chair. It squeaks alarmingly.

“Bloody hell, Granger. What is wrong with these people? These—” He narrows his eyes. “These men.”

Hermione sighs. “You tell me, Malfoy. Ever since I started here they’ve sent owls.” She frowns. “I try to be helpful, I mean, it’s good that they’re asking about the Muggle world. But Terry’s dad’s a Muggle, so I’m not sure how he doesn’t know what a helicopter is.”

Malfoy looks at her suspiciously. “Are you—Do you seriously not know?”

“Know what?”

“Granger—” He gives her an odd look, disbelief clouding his handsome features. “They fancy you.”

Hermione snorts, running her quill under a particularly poorly worded statement. “You’re having a laugh, Malfoy.”

“I’m having a—” Malfoy’s eyebrows raised high in vexation. “I’m very much not laughing, actually. All these poor bloody wizards fancy you and you don’t even know it. Salazar, we’ll have to put a note on the door.”

“A note? Saying what? All those wizards trying to woo me, please form an orderly line?” She scoffs. “You’re off your trolley, Malfoy.”

“So you’d be interested, then? If one of them asked you out?” he presses.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Malfoy.” She stops writing. “I mean, I’d probably consider it. No one’s asked me out since Ron, not properly.”

He stares at her again, looking dumbfounded, his blond hair falling perfectly—as usual—and those bloody unfairly long eyelashes wide. He’s got nice lips. Not that she’s been looking.

“Go out with me.” He says it so quickly she almost misses it, her quill scratching to a stop and leaving a big blotch on the page.

“Shit.” She reaches for her wand, wanting to get rid of the mark before it settles through the page. Her brain processes the ink faster than his question, the words only beginning to penetrate once her wand is in her hand.

“Good grief, Granger, it’s not that serious. If you want to say no, just say no, you don’t need to hex me.”

“Hex—Go out—What?” She blinks at him, the page clean once again. Did he seriously just ask—

“Go out with me. Tonight, even.”

Hermione gapes at him rather unattractively for several seconds before shutting her mouth with a click. _“_Malfoy, if this is some kind of joke…”

“It’s not a joke. And even if it was, those tossers will stop owling you if they think you’re dating me, and I did promise, so…” He looks remarkably earnest, all of a sudden, as though he really hopes she might go out with him. Hermione feels something strange happen in her stomach, like she’s swallowed too much butterbeer all at once.

“I—Alright, then.” He grins, this wide, self-satisfied smile that makes Hermione feel—Well. She feels a bit giddy, actually. Lightheaded. She can’t help but smile back, a nervous little thing that feels out of place on her face.

Maybe someone’s poisoned their cauldron cakes.

---

“Hermione! Long time, no see!” calls out Cormac McLaggen from across the Quidditch stand.

Shit. Fuck. Hermione looks around desperately for someone to talk to that might save her from this interaction, but Draco, Ginny and Harry are all playing in the interdepartmental match, and Ron’s off canoodling with Lavender in some dark corner.

She sighs. “Hi, Cormac. How are you?” The players are gathering on the field below, Draco’s blond head talking animatedly to Ginny, presumably in their usual snark. He glances up in her direction, quick, and then looks back. She can’t see from here, but if she had to guess, she’d say he was glowering at Cormac.

They’ve been dating for two months, now. It’s going quite well, she thinks. The thought of it makes cheeks hurt from the want of a smile. They haven’t told anyone officially, yet, and certainly Cormac McLaggen is not going to be the first to know.

He sits down next to her, too close for comfort. She scowls down at his leg.

“You look lovely, Hermione, really nice.” He turns down to the pitch. “Supporting anyone in particular today? Last I heard you’d broken up with Weasley.” Hermione rolls her eyes to the sky.

True to Malfoy’s word, the influx of stupid questions, inquiries, and bother from the wizards of the Ministry had stopped rather abruptly after that week. There were several… rumours (truths, in fact, but that was their business and no one else’s,) circulating about her and Draco that stopped most of them, and the others were quickly dealt with by an Incineration Charm.

She let Draco burn them. He seemed to enjoy it.

“I—I’m here with Ginny, and Harry, and Draco. Why are you here?”

“I’ve just joined the League Headquarters. Would have played, of course, but they said it wouldn’t be fair for the other departments. You know, having a former professional on the team.” Godric, he was such a twat.

Below, they release the balls, the Snitch hovering up into the sky, the players all kicking off to scattered applause. Draco starts circling immediately, eyes scanning. He looks at her every few seconds, and each time he does it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Ginny’s a professional, and they let her play."

“Right. Well, next match, then.”

“Right,” she says doubtfully. Hermione lets the awkwardness linger for a minute, hopeful that it might spur Cormac to piss off. She’s never particularly liked Quidditch, but it’s certainly more enjoyable when you have someone to watch. Draco looks good in his Quidditch robes, truth be told.

He stayed over for the first time last night, and well—She’d rather like a repeat performance.

Cormac clears his throat, and Hermione feels her face twitch in irritation. Suddenly Draco is hovering several feet away, back to them like he’s looking for the Snitch, definitely within earshot.

“Listen, Hermione. If you’re not seeing anyone—”

“I am,” she says abruptly. “Seeing someone.” Draco’s broom tilts up in the air, floating. She can practically see his grin through his perfect hair. She can’t help but smile.

“Oh? Who is it?”

Hermione bites her lip. She should tell her friends first, surely.

But she’s also certain Cormac will absolutely go away right now if she tells him.

“Draco, actually.”

The look on Cormac’s face is so, so worth it.

---

Her left leg is tangled in Draco’s sheets (green, predictably, which she’s teased him about several times already and has no intention of stopping) and his arm is slung across her waist, warm and comforting. She can feel sleep dragging at the corners of her mind.

“Hermione,” he murmurs, low enough that it wouldn’t have woken her.

“Mm?” she replies, eyes still closed.

“Promise me something?” he asks quietly. She tilts her head up so she can look at him through one eye, his hair all mussed and out-of-place, mouth pink.

“You’ll tell me, won’t you? When you get sick of me?” Hermione lets out a huff of air and moves closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Draco.” She opens her eyes fully now, brushing her eyelash against his cheek, a butterfly kiss. “I won’t get sick of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[porcelain-gal]

random things i've scripted

i never embarrass myself.

no one ever throws up on me.

no one ever hears me pooping.

everything works out in my favor.

all parties i go to are fun and lively.

people are always willing to help me.

i have my house address memorized.

i don’t get bad second hand embarrassment.

i’ll never get a tattoo or body modification that i’ll regret.

i never get a stiff neck from laying, sleeping or sitting weird.

whenever i get cocky, it’s perfectly justified because i am that bitch.

my nails (both hand and toe) don't catch on or scrape against things.

i am never an angry or abusive drunk (i'm taking no risks with my bloodline.)

my ears never get damaged when blasting anything at a high or full volume.

grease isn’t hard to wash off of stuff and doesn’t leave stains on any of the dishes i use.

i can tell when an animal is showing specific kinds of behavior (e.g., casual, affectionate, hostile, etc.)

you can't shame me for shit. i always own the shit i've done with my chest and can acknowledge when i'm wrong.

all the places i stay, especially hotels, have completely soundproof walls unless i don't want them to be for a reason or i scripted a scenario or whatever.

the majority of humans commonly can live up to 200 (i'm not human in most of my drs and ion want my human friends just dying on me too quick.)

i'm pretty good at regulating my emotions and i never let them get out of hand to the point where i'm impulsively or thoughtlessly hurting someone or something.

i enjoy rollercoasters, fair rides, etc., and have no fear of them. plus all of the ones i go on are completely safe, stable, and fully-functioning and no one ever gets hurt on them.

my disorders rarely cause me issues with physical intimacy (sexual and non-sexual) and if they do, there's always simple ways around the issues that doesn't really inconvenience me or anyone else.

whenever i commission someone or pay for a service, i always pay exactly on time or sometimes even before. i never allow people that work for me or give me any kind of service go unpaid or unsupported.

none of my friends, followers/fan, family members, or anyone i am currently aquatinted with or will be aquatinted with ever had a racist/homophobic/sexist/etc phase nor do they support/defend that type of thing.

i never slam any part of my body into doors, windows, books, and vice versa (i slammed my finger into my grandma's front door once and it took literal years to turn back to its normal color. plus it hurt like shit so NEVER again.)

any online creator who has harmed, is harming, or is attempting to harm any other creator without valid and justifiable reasoning has their platform taken away and can never get said platform back nor are they able to rebrand and start over.

i always give the best advice for people when they ask me things. like the advice i give leaves people with new perspectives and hope and all. and i also deliver it in a very good way that doesn’t offend or make people or uncomfortable or feel like they’re being berated or whatever. it’s just incredible advice delivered in the best way without sounding bad or sketchy.

anti-shifter, proship/profic, ageplay, pro ana, bigot/incel, and any variation dni

[vacayisland]

Can I request a floyd x fem!kpop troll who was in her own group and Floyd’s reaction when he finds out? (If you need help w groups I suggest girls generation/SNSD or twice :D)

@!; I never knew! Floyd / Fem!Kpop Troll! Reader

"Tag list"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq

ꨄ︎ Having met Floyd after your group had blew up, you were hesitant to tell him about your career. Not because you didn't trust him nor were you ashamed of yourself or your group members, yet... he was one of the first people who didn't know who you were. He didn't know your K-pop group, he didn't know your stage name, he didn't call you or fangirl over you when he saw you. It was honestly refreshing, really refreshing.

ꨄ︎ You had joint your group for fun, at first; you thought having a group of other like minded people to rise to fame with would be fucking amazing. And while it was, the amount of fans you guys got swamped with was, well, unbearable. You loved the support, you loved your fans, yet finally finding someone who didn't know who you were was like finding a needle in a hay stack. Especially when your management had managed to get your groups music in every tribe after the events at the Hard Rock tribe. It not only blasted your popularity within the K-Pop trolls group, and their following, yet throughout the other tribes. And you didn't want to ruin the thing you had going with Floyd; so you kept your mouth shut.

ꨄ︎ Every time you had to do something with your group, you always made up an excuse for Floyd. Little yet believable things, like "Oh my sister is sick, I have to take care of her", "I'm spending time with family", "I had a long day and need a moment to myself", "I'm baking with friends", "girls only sleep over sorry", "I'm not in the village right now!". You know, simple white lies that had some sort of truth behind them. You hated lying to Floyd, especially when you two were really clicking, yet you also couldn't tell him the truth; not yet. And Floyd always seemed to not mind, always respected your plans and you, so you thought it was alright.

ꨄ︎ Meanwhile, when you weren't hanging out with Floyd, Floyd was hanging out with his brothers, Poppy, and Viva. It was always casual hangouts either in Branch's bunker, Poppy's pod, or else where around the village. Yet, one day while hanging out in Branch's bunker, Poppy brought out Branch's record player. She began exclaiming, basically shouting and springing with excitement, with how Branch had got her a new vinyl of this band that Poppy loves! Bruce encouraged her to play it, and well Poppy and Viva squealed and danced around while listening to it. "Oh hey, it's that new band." Bruce mumbled, recognizing the tune and lyrics, as well as the voices, of the k-pop band that was currently running a rampage in his house. "My kids love these girls."

ꨄ︎ That was the first time Floyd was exposed to your music, or k-pop in general. He enjoyed it, so he had asked Branch where he bought it and went to go buy himself a copy so he could listen to it at his own pod. He even sent you a photo of the vinyl after he got it!

ꨄ︎ "Hey, look at this new group my brothers introduced me to! Do you know them? They sound really good."

ꨄ︎ As soon as you got that message, and looked at the vinyl record, you freaked out. You scared the shit out of your fellow members, who stared at you so confused and concerned; Even your make-up stylist was concerned. "Hey, hey! What's wrong?" One of them would asked, panickily rushing to your side. You were sure they thought that you just got a message of Floyd cheating on you with another guy. But nope, "He bought one of our vinyls! He knows about our music!" "Oh. you know I thought this would be more serious-" "THIS IS SERIOUS!"

ꨄ︎ You accidentality left Floyd on read for 10 minutes as you explained to the others that you had never told Floyd about your association with this group. You had never told him you sang, or you were apart of this big K-pop group that blew up globally and you weren't sure how to tell him and it's not like you want to tell him incase that somehow ruined your current relationship! It was a lot to confess, especially when you all were getting ready for a show. Your other members stared at you like you were a little mental for your line of reasoning. And maybe you were, but you didn't want to out yourself now! You've been keeping this up for 7 months!

ꨄ︎ That's when Floyd texted you again: "Hey, are you okay? I saw you read my message and you don't usually leave me on read. Unless something happened?"

ꨄ︎ And you had no choice but to respond! You couldn't leave him on read twice. "Hey, sorry something just came up. Yeah, I've heard of them they're pretty good."

ꨄ︎ "Did you really just call us good?" Your group was now peaking over your shoulder, silently reading the conversation to themselves as it played out. They had always been curious about you and this Floyd fellow, and now they understood why you never introduced them. "That's either really egotistical or just sad you think we're so bad." Commented one of them to your left, and you would have agreed with her in you weren't under a lot of pressure right now! "I don't know, I'm panicking!"

ꨄ︎ You somehow managed to get through that conversation without outing yourself, but you couldn't spare yourself from your groups disappointment about your actions; And, to be fair, you were disappointed in yourself. They would pull chairs around, forming a circle around you that kind of made you feel like you were in rehab, or in some sort of intervention. "You know you're going to have to tell him at some point, right?" They would point out, "You cannot possibly keep all of this a secret forever. I don't even know how you've managed to hid it from him for seven months!" You would only sigh, "I know! I know... I just don't know how to say it without sounding..." "Insane?", "Mental?", "Like you're a big fat lair?" "Okay rude- but yes!"

ꨄ︎ "Invite him to a show!" Was the agreement you had all came to, even thought it made you queasy even thinking about mixing your K-pop life with your personal life. You were so comfortable with Floyd and you didn't want to mess anything up; You also didn't want to accidentally out your relationship to your fans and cause some sort of havoc that had to be cleared up by your PR team. Nor did you want any of them to go to Floyd's way and do who knows what. But, knowing you also couldn't lie to him forever, you caved in and sent him the tickets in the mail along with a letter:

ꨄ︎ "Floyd! You have mail." JD called from the elevator as he came back into the bunker with mail. Everyone was gathered around in the kitchen, talking and slowly waking up; JD only dumped the pile of letters, party invites, and anything else that got stuck in mail onto the counter. He handed Floyd' letter to him personally, with a playful wiggle of the eyebrow. Confused, but a little intrigued, Floyd opened the envelope and read the letter, taking his time and not minding the peeping eyes of everyone around. His brothers, seemed to interested with this letter. "It's tickets?" Floyd mumbled when he reached the end of your letter, noticing the lipstick kiss on the bottom. His cheeks flushed a little, a dorky smile wobbling onto his lips before he coughed and tried to compose himself. He knew he would never hear the end of it from his brothers, who were already snickering! All but for Branch, "Tickets to what?" "Tickets to that band you introduced us to." Floyd mumbled, pulling out 7 VIP tickets to your next concert in Pop Village. Poppy nor Viva could contain their screams as soon as they saw the tickets!

ꨄ︎ Floyd texted you later in the day, thanking you for the tickets. Yet, just as you knew he would, he couldn't help but question where you got them (and if you bought them, how he would pay you back) and why there was only 7 and not 8 (where you not coming?). You could only text him back that he would understand during the concert; which was in a few days time.

ꨄ︎ And then you may or may not have ghosted him... Listen, you were completely freaking out about this new change. Even if it hadn't started yet, you had so much fear you half hoped that you ghosting Floyd would end in him thinking you hated him and he wouldn't come and you never will have to face with the consequences of your own actions. Wow, that actually not sounded so shitty thinking about it. "Oh hey, lover boy is here!" "WHAT?!"

ꨄ︎ Your plan didn't work, Floyd sort of figured everything out after hearing Poppy infodump about the group a day before the show. He was still a little iffy about his assumption that you were a member of this group, yet thought he might right. After all, it would explain a lot about your odd schedule and your recent ghosting. And while Floyd was sitting down, getting comfortable next to his brothers and the ever so excited Poppy, Viva, and surprisingly Clay and Branch, you were freaking out! The others literally kept having to splash water in your face to keep you from backing out, or maybe even passing out. You couldn't believe this was happening, you couldn't believe that he actually came, you couldn't believe- "Come on ladies, we need you on stage now!"

ꨄ︎ During the performance, you kept glancing over where Floyd and his brothers were, so nervous about his reaction. You saw, on several occasions, Viva and Poppy shouting and cheering, dancing with both Clay and Branch and between themselves. Bruce acted like any other dad that was brought to this concert because of his teenage daughter, and Floyd... Oh you were too nervous to get a good look at him. Yet, what you didn't see was that Floyd was your biggest supporter. He was shouted your name with the biggest smile, singing your lyrics (that he so didn't memorize since he got the tickets and even more so when he pieced things together).

ꨄ︎ He's so supportive! <3

ꨄ︎ He was slightly shocked when he first realized who you were, but quickly became your biggest fan! Literally ran to you after the show, couldn't hold himself back from pulling you into such a big hug. Literally was gushing over how amazing your performance was and he was so sorry he ever made you feel like you had to hide this from him. You had to reassure him it wasn't because of anything he did.

ꨄ︎ "Wha- Floyd no! I didn't keep this away from you because you were the problem!" You rushed how instantly as soon as you heart Floyd apologize. You couldn't even believe he would even begin to think that this was somehow his fault, when it was the opposite. "It.. it wasn't?" His look of confusion pulled at your heart so much. The way he pulled away from the hug for a moment, hands still on your shoulders, as he gave you a confused wide-eyed look. You cursed yourself for not telling him earlier! "No, of course not! I was-..." You paused for a moment, biting at the edge of your lip. You thought over your words carefully, "It was... nice to have someone who didn't know who I was. It felt like I could be, you know, normal around you. I didn't have to worry about being stage me because I could just be me!" "Oh..." Floyd seemed like he understood that feeling all too well. You stared at him, your eyebrows scrunching a little in confusion. "What?" "Why do you look like you know exactly what I'm talking about like you've experienced it before?" "Because I do!" Floyd would give you a small smile, "Back in my Brozone days-" "YOU WERE IN BROZONE?!"

ꨄ︎ Floyd may or may not have forgotten to mention he had been a member of BroZone; Whoops!

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[httpvomitello]

I GOT AN IDEA :D

Ok so, reader is 2012 April's best friend but reader is male so the turtles think they are dating.

After donnie gets jelous one day after april brags about what reader made for her (also thinking wielder reader, like working with metal so thinking jewelry and or small weapons , the turtles and casey ask if they are dating when april let's it slip that reader is gay.

Maybe there could be a think where reader gains a crush on one of the turtles and starts making small things for them like rings that fit their hands, bracelets, small pocket knives hes made just for them, ext, I think it would be pretty neat

You don't have to do this ask of course, your writing is so much fun to ready, I always have a blast reading your work :D

Hello, hello! Thank you for enjoying reading what I write, it makes me very happy! Although requests are CLOSED at the moment, reading your request made me want to write about it, so... Yeah, I did. But guys, please read the rules, so you know when it's okay to ask! Anyway, I hope you like it ~ ♡♡♡♡

Do you want to go out with me? *⁠.⁠✧

It was a normal evening in the lair when the conversation turned toward April. It wasn’t unusual—she was a frequent topic of discussion, especially for Donnie—but this time, it wasn’t her escapades with school or her time spent with the Turtles that got them talking. It was you.

You, April’s best friend, had recently made her a stunning bracelet, one of your many custom metalwork creations. She’d shown it off with pride during one of her visits to the lair, gushing about how thoughtful and talented you were.

“You should’ve seen it, guys,” she said, holding out her wrist for the hundredth time. “Y/N made it by hand! He even personalized it with little engravings—look, it has my initials!”

Donnie’s mood visibly soured as April raved about your talent and kindness. He crossed his arms, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sounds like you two are pretty close,” he muttered, trying (and failing) to sound indifferent.

“Of course we are! Y/N’s been my best friend for years,” April replied.

Raph smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, but is he just your best friend? 'Cause it sounds like Donnie here’s thinkin’ otherwise.”

“Shut up, Raph,” Donnie snapped, his face flushing a deep shade of red.

April blinked, then let out a loud laugh. “Oh my gosh, you guys think Y/N and I are dating?”

“Well, yeah,” Mikey said, popping a slice of pizza into his mouth. “I mean, you’re always talking about him, and he makes you stuff. Kinda sounds like boyfriend material to me.”

Casey chimed in with a snort. “Can’t blame the guy if he’s into you. You’re a catch, Red.”

April waved her hands frantically. “No, no, no! You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N’s gay!”

The room fell silent.

“Oh,” Mikey said, pizza halfway to his mouth. “Well, that explains a lot.”

Donnie’s eyes widened as he processed the information, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” April confirmed, laughing. “I can’t believe you guys thought we were dating. He’s like my brother.”

From that moment, the tension eased… or so it seemed. Donnie couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for assuming the worst about you. When you visited the lair a few days later, he kept his distance at first, unsure how to act around you now that he knew the truth.

But you? You were completely unfazed.

“Hey, Donatello,” you greeted with a warm smile as you approached him. “April’s told me all about your tech skills. Pretty impressive stuff.”

Donnie blinked, caught off guard by your casual friendliness. “Uh, thanks,” he replied, fiddling with the edge of his staff.

“You know,” you continued, “I’ve been thinking about making something for you guys. April says you’re always busy saving the city, so I figured you could use a little appreciation.”

Donnie’s face flushed slightly. “That’s... really thoughtful of you.”

True to your word, you started crafting small gifts for each of the Turtles. It started with practical things—like a custom pocket knife for Raph and a set of throwing stars for Mikey—but over time, your gifts became more personal.

For Donnie, you made a sleek metal bracelet with subtle engravings of his favorite equations. He stared at it for a long time when you gave it to him, tracing the intricate designs with his fingers.

“This is... incredible,” he said softly.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s nothing, really. Just thought it might be your style.”

Donnie looked up at you, his heart skipping a beat. “It’s perfect.”

It wasn’t long before the others started picking up on your growing interest in Donnie. You spent more time in his lab, asking questions about his inventions and offering to help where you could. You even started bringing him snacks when he got too absorbed in his work to eat.

Mikey was the first to notice.

“Dude,” he whispered one night when you’d stepped out of the lab. “Y/N totally likes you.”

Donnie nearly dropped the tool he was holding. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

“C’mon, it’s so obvious!” Mikey insisted. “He’s always hanging around you, making you stuff, bringing you food. That’s love language if I’ve ever seen it.”

Donnie tried to brush it off, but the more he thought about it, the more Mikey’s words made sense.

One evening, as you were finishing up a new project in your workshop—a custom screwdriver set for Donnie. You found yourself wondering if Donnie notice the little things you did for him? Did he even like you back?

You decided to take a chance.

The next time you visited the lair, you handed Donnie the screwdriver set with a shy smile. “I made this for you,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

Donnie took the set, his eyes widening as he examined each piece. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. “I figured it might come in handy for your lab stuff.”

Donnie looked up at you, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Y/N, this is... amazing. Thank you.”

You hesitated, then decided to just go for it. “Donnie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, setting the tools aside.

You took a deep breath. “Do you... I mean, would you want to go out sometime? Like, just the two of us?”

Donnie’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you thought you’d completely misread the situation. But then he smiled—soft and genuine—and nodded.

“I’d like that,” he said.

Your heart swelled with relief and excitement as you returned his smile.

[aliwritex]

can you do a smut for oscar? literally anything thank youuu

just a little something i already had laying around. also, pussy eating oscar <3 i am so sorry

F1MASTERLIST

You had been unquiet all night, for some reason you couldn’t sleep and it was driving you insane. Oscar was already sleeping and you didn’t want to wake him up so you just picked up your phone again, scrolling through social media until you stumbled across a video, blasting the background music. Before you could turn the volume down, Oscar lifted his head from the pillow.

"Babe? You’re still up?" He asked half asleep.

"Go back to sleep, angel, I didn’t want to wake you up, I’m sorry."

"No. What’s wrong? You can’t sleep." He shifted to you, sniffing your neck as you hugged him.

"I don’t know, I close my eyes but I can’t sleep, it’s not like I’m overthinking something. I just can’t fall asleep."

"Okay" he kissed your neck, hand cupping your heat through your underwear.

"‘Okay’ ? So I tell you I can’t sleep and you try to fuck me?"

"No. I’m gonna make you tired and relaxed so you can sleep. Can I?" He said between kisses on your neck and you nodded.

Oscar slid his hands into your underwear, opening your folds and catching your clit between his fingers. Before actually starting anything he went completely under the covers, making you giggle as he placed himself between your legs. Your legs formed a tent with the covers, you could only see your boyfriend’s eyes shining and his silhouette in the dark room.

"What you laughing at?" He looked up at you.

"Nothing. You’re just so pretty." You said, turning on the lamp on the night stand, so you could actually see his face.

He shook his head and started pulling down your underwear, kissing your inner thighs. As soon as your underwear was gone his mouth was on you, his tongue licking a long stripe up your folds, opening you for him. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it as one of his long fingers teased your hole. Soon you were being penetrated by two fingers, curling inside you. You pulled his hair back, making him turn his gaze to you, you whispered an almost silent ‘kiss me’. Oscar’s mouth left your clit to press a gentle kiss on your lips as he worked his fingers inside you.

"I love you so much."

"I. Love. You. More." he said kissing your neck with each word.

He pulled the collar of your shirt down to leave a kiss on your collarbone, his left hand going up your waist under your shirt. You moaned loudly when his fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“Sound so beautiful for me, baby” he whispered against your lower stomach, lips soon attaching to your clit again.

His tongue flicked against the sensitive nub as his fingers sped up making you arch your back, hands going down to his hair moving it off his face making him look up at you.

“So beautiful. Fuck, Oscar” you praised as he sucked your clit back into his mouth. “So close, baby.” you pulled harder on his hair.

His free hand pressed down on your lower stomach making you feel his finger movements with more intensity. All of his actions overwhelming you until you let go of your orgasm, feeling your whole body relax. Oscar stopped when he felt your hand letting of of his hair.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked you in a sleepy voice.

“Fuck yeah. Better and tired.” you said running your hands through his hair softly.

“Yeah, me too. Good night, love” he said snuggling to your thigh, right where he was.

“Oscar, come here. You’re gonna have a backache tomorrow.”

“Nah, this is nice.” he kissed your thigh, bitting it softly.

[creepswrites]

DIRT ROADS | Lester x Reader

rereading some of my old writing renewed my love for writing this scruffy man <3 this is also slightly self indulgent oops

LESTER SINCLAIR X GN!READER

SUMMARY: The coat he wore was rough and the necklace he wore dug slightly into your skin. But he felt warm and alive and you felt his laugh more then you actually heard it. It felt strangely magical and the mere thought of that baffled you. What about this situation was remotely magical?

The sound of the sputtering of your car engine made you groan, your forehead bumping against the steering wheel in quite frustration. Overhead, raindrops pattered harshly against the top of your car like small marbles and you heard the way your wheels dug into the muddy roads. This was not the place you wanted to get stuck in.

"I told you we'd get stuck out here!" Your friend Sadie huffed in exasperation, throwing her hands up in defeat. "If we had just turned back and asked for directions," She trailed off, shooting a pointed glare at the two guys in the backseat, "We wouldn't be in this mess!"

Robbie - Sadie's long-term boyfriend, though you weren't exactly sure why, seeing as they argued more often then not - just scoffed at his girlfriend's frustrations. "Look, let's just get out of the car and fuckin' push, alright?"

"Can't," You sighed as you lifted your head up. "The front wheels are trapped in the mud. Pushin' will just get us more stuck."

"Well what the fuck else are we supposed to do?" Robbie shouted before swinging the door open and stomping out into the pouring rain, uncaring of how his hair and clothes quickly became soaked.

When he did, his friend who sat beside him - Leon, you think was his name - quickly shuffled out to join him. Leon was nicer than Robbie but was a bit of a pushover. This camping trip the four of you planned was mostly Sadie's attempts to pair you up with Leon despite both of your resistances on the matter.

"Honestly," Sadie sighed, "That guy just can't take no for an answer."

You hummed, disinterested in her latest "Robbie Rant" as you'd taken to calling them. "I still think this whole camping thing is a bad idea. Even if we'll be in a cabin." You weren't exactly enthusiastic at the idea of listening to Sadie argue with her boyfriend for a long weekend while you sat awkwardly next to Leon.

"Don't be such a downer," Sadie said as she poked your cheek with a pointy, baby blue nail. "The rain'll pass, babe. It always does."

When you heard the sound of your car door open, a blast of cold air hitting your body, you turned your head and were met with a worried look on Robbie's face. "Hey, uh, there's... some dude over here." He gestured with a thumb, arms crossed over his chest to try and protect himself from the chilled rain. "He's, uh, offerin' to tow us to the nearest town."

You perked your head up. "Oh! Sure, okay, yeah." Frankly you were just relieved the four of you weren't going to have to camp out in the car or, god forbid, walk through the rain and dark foresty area in hopes of finding civilization.

"Yeah, I wouldn't get too excited." Robbie mumbled as you poked your head out to look behind your car. "Dude's kinda weird."

A scrawny looking man stood slumped against a silver truck chatting to Leon, seemingly unbothered by the rain. When he caught your eye, he tilted his green cap in greeting and gave you a wide gap toothed smile as he made his way towards you. Outwardly, you didn't see anything wrong with him. Maybe a little scruffy but nothing outwardly strange. "Hey there," He said with such a heavy southern drawl it made your eyes feel droopy, "Saw y'all got stuck. I might be able 't tow ya back to town. It ain't far, but you folks'll probably wanna ride with me. 'Case stuff gets too bumpy."

You considered his offer for a moment. The idea of shelter was too tempting to ignore, however... "That's awfully kind of you," You said slowly, watching his smile soften into something more genuine, "What's the catch?"

"Ain't no catch, honest." He said as he slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Robbie gave him a weird look but you ignored it, keeping your focus on the stranger. "Jus' happened to be in the neighborhood on my way back home. Saw y'all broke down 'n figured I'd lend a hand."

Your shoulders dropped slightly. As in most situations, you had to trust your gut. And your gut said that you could trust him. So you held out your hand to shake his, introducing yourself. "How close is this town?"

"Jus' a few miles back down this road here 'n a few left turns." The stranger offered a hand to help you out of your car and you flinched at the sight of thick mud below you. "'m Lester, by the way. Lester Sinclair." He said, noticing your apprehension at the dirt. "Ain't one for mud?" He gave a light laugh.

"Not if I can help it," You sighed. It wouldn't normally bother you but you hadn't worn shoes you could afford to get dirty. The storm had caught you all by surprise.

Before you could step out, Lester gave you a nudge. "Here, put'cher arms 'round me."

You flushed and stared at him with wide, confused eyes. He just gave you a grin as he hooked your knees in the crook of his elbow. "I- You don't have to- I can-" You stammered out nervously. Sure, you didn't really want to get your shoes dirty, but Lester didn't have to carry you!

"Up we go!" Lester said with a dramatic flair, causing you to shriek in terror as you were lifted out up of your seat. You clung to him tight to avoid falling into the mud and he gave you a little spin, making you bury your face into his shoulder as you begged him not to drop you.

The coat he wore was rough and the necklace he wore dug slightly into your skin. But he felt warm and alive and you felt his laugh more then you actually heard it. It felt strangely magical and the mere thought of that baffled you. What about this situation was remotely magical?

"Hey, put 'em the fuck down!" Robbie said. You'd honestly forgot he was there for a moment. But he stepped towards you two like he intended to yank you from the other man's arms like a toddler wanting its toy back.

Lester shot him a look before glancing down at you, as though silently asking if Robbie was bothering you. Like Lester himself wasn't the stranger in the situation. "Alrighty then. Why don't you grab the girl so we can get on outta here?" He said before carrying you back towards his truck without looking back.

When you saw the truck, you understood why Robbie and Leon looked so anxious about going inside. You could see what looked to be small animal bones dangling like strings of beads woven together with feathers and rough strings. They all looked very homemade but pretty in their own way. At least to you they were.

What really caught your attention was the deer skull sitting on the dashboard as the pride of place. "You hunt?" You asked Lester as he walked around to the passenger side door.

He noticed you eyeing the deer skull and shrugged. "That depends."

"Depends?"

"Well I gotta impress you, don't I? Ain't every day I get to carry some pretty thing to my truck. Can't letcha think 'm a bad guy if I do hunt." He said casually before gesturing to the door handle. "Can you grab that?"

You opened the door and let him set you on the seat, his words not quite registering as you focused on the skull, fingers grazing it but not quite touching. "I think it's cool," You said with a quiet awe. "I like taxidermy, so bones don't put me off."

Lester seemed surprised by that. You could hear the sounds of Robbie and Sadie arguing again - likely because he wasn't offering to carry her like Lester had done for you - but you hardly cared with him looking at you like that. Like he was swooning.

"So y'ain't gonna be bothered by the roadkill I got in the back?" He asked, leaning against the car door as you admired the bones hung around the interior.

"Nope. Not even a little. Do you make these yourself?" You asked, fingers dancing lightly down a particularly pretty string of feathers and bones.

Lester swallowed and nodded, a little breathless when he spoke. "Yeah. Yeah. Make 'em myself, yeah." He sounded a little nervous, trying to hide his excitement at your genuine interest. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna get yer car set up for towin' 'n whatnot. You alright if I borrow your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." You shrugged before focusing back on him. "Much less Robbie. He's kind of a douchebag."

"You don't have a boyfriend?" Lester looked genuinely shocked.

You laughed a little. "You sound like my parents." Your tone was light, teasing, and a sharp contrast to the sudden hurricane that was Sadie climbing into the backseat of the truck, arguing loudly with Robbie. As suspected, he had not want to carry her and she had to walk.

You and Lester shared an exhausted look before he stepped away to get the cables to tow your car. Meanwhile, you tucked into the front seat, admiring every knickknack and oddity you could see. It felt almost cozy. Lester likely spent a lot of time in here to warrant such a comfortable, familiar space. He'd mentioned roadkill in the back of the truck so you figured he drove around for long hours picking it up.

He was utterly fascinating. You'd never met anyone like him.

"Dude, this guy is a freak," Sadie whisper-yelled to be heard over the rain as she slammed her door. You left the your own door open to enjoy the cool air a bit longer after being stuck in a stuffy car for the past four hours. "His car's full of dead things!" She hissed at you.

"Doesn't bother me." You said absently, far too focused on the skull again. It was in beautiful condition, clearly well taken care of. If Lester did really hunt, you hoped it was humane. But you reassured yourself that he didn't seem like someone who hated animals.

Sadie scoffed as she slumped in the backseat. The anger from her argument with Robbie was starting to leak into your conversation with her and it pissed you off. But you held your tongue, knowing better than to push her. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't mind your new weirdo boyfriend and his freaky shit." She laughed with a mocking tone. "Must be nice to meet some random fucking guy on the side of the road and he's soooo perfect and thoughtful and carries you to his car. Definitely matches your freak."

You ignored her.

It didn't take long for the guys to finish attaching your car to the truck and everyone piled in the truck, Lester closing his door with a dramatic flair and giving you a smile. "Alrighty, lets head on back. Town's just a couple minutes away." He said, making sure to take wide turns to avoid scratching up the car too much.

"Is there a hotel in town there?" Sadie asked, fidgeting with a strand of her wet hair.

"Yeah, should be. The inn ain't get much business this far out here so there oughta be rooms." Lester said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Where ya folks headed?"

When the three in the back said nothing, you spoke up after an awkward beat of silence. Just because your friends didn't like the dead things didn't mean Lester was a bad guy. "Headin' towards Arkansas. We've got a little cabin there that we want to stay at for a few days."

"Special occasion?" Lester asked curiously.

"Just a double date weekend." Sadie chimed in, smirking a bit in Leon and Robbie's direction. "We've been meaning to take a break together.

You flinched at the implication you were dating Leon. Lester seemed to notice that and gave you a reassuring smile. "Sounds fun." He said aloud, though you could see the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. "Robbie, was it?"

"Yeah?"

"How long've you been dating 'em?" He tilted his head towards you, smiling at Robbie in the rearview mirror. "Hope I didn't give ya the wrong impression when I carried 'em over. I know you got defensive 'bout it 'n all."

The backseat erupted into absolute chaos. You turned to level Lester with an unimpressed look and the man had the audacity to give you an innocent little smile.

Jerk. You snorted, rolled your eyes, and turned your head to look out the window, watching the raindrops fall on the slightly fogged glass and the brush of the forest passing by in blurs of murky greens and browns.

Ambrose wasn't far, true to Lester's word. The town was small, only a few dozen houses and no major chain stores, much to Sadie's disappointment. Just little mom and pop type places. Lester towed your car to the nearby gas station outside the auto shop and you became suddenly aware of how empty the town felt. No one was outside but you didn't think it was because of the rain.

Your friends got out of the truck, eager to get away from the bones and the smell of rot, but you stayed in with Lester for a minute. "Where is everyone?"

"Hm?" Lester asked, looking innocently curious. "Whaddya mean?"

When he didn't say anything else, you just sighed. "Nevermind," you mumbled as you reached for the door.

"Wait." He said, his voice low. You turned to look at him and he seemed... guilty? He chewed nervously on his bottom lip before making a gesture to the glove box. "Open it."

So you did. Laying atop some piles of paper was a simple, silver pocketknife. "What the-?"

"In case." Lester said, pulling it out and handing it to you expectantly.

"In case of what?" You frowned as alarm bells began to ring in your head. "What do you mean?

Lester's eyes darted quickly over your shoulder before he looked back at you. You didn't get the chance to look over your shoulder when he reached up, cupping your face with one hand to keep your eyes on him. "I ain't- I ain't s'pposed to do this. Y'can't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?" Your fear must have been obvious at this point, seeing as Lester flinched.

"Look," he sighed, taking your hand and squeezing it in his own. "I can't- I wanna tell ya, believe me. But I ain't s'pposed to 'n it kills me." He looked genuinely sorry for whatever it was he was doing, which only scared you more. "But if ya take it, you'll be-"

A loud knock on the window made you scream, scooting away from the door with a look of terror, not even care that you practically slammed into Lester's chest as you threw yourself across the center console. Staring at you from the window was a man dressed in a mechanic jumpsuit with a baseball cap on. He opened the door without prompting and gave you a smile that made you feel greasy just looking at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." The stranger said with a warm tone. "'m name's Bo. I work at the autoshop here."

You introduced yourself cautiously, glancing out the windshield and noticing the way Sadie practically swooned over Bo while Robbie and Leon looked ready to punch the daylights out of this guy.

You didn't trust him. Not one bit.

"Pretty sure that's my brother you're sittin' on." Bo said with another acidic smile.

"Oh." You said, still pressed against Lester's side with no real interest in moving. The pocketknife was still clenched tightly in your fist and you still didn't feel safe.

Lester just laughed. "Aw, it ain't no problem Bo. We were chattin' 'bout their car actually. Might need ya to check it out, just in case."

Bo hazarded a glance at your car. "Yeah, alright, I'll take a look. Wanna come with me?" He asked, offering you his hand.

Everything in your body screamed at you to stay away from this guy.

"Actually Bo," Lester spoke up, your saving grace, "I was plannin' on chattin' 'bout taxidermy with 'em. If ya don't mind."

Bo did, in fact, seem to mind. His perfect facade seemed to flicker, an annoyed look passing his over his face as quick as it came. "Lester, ain't it a better idea for them to be here with their car?"

"I trust you!" You nearly yelled, grabbing your car keys and stuffing them into Bo's extended hand. "You seem like you know what you're doing! Any questions and you can ask Robbie, he's better with cars than me anyways."

You felt Lester relax when Bo just sighed loudly. "Alright, if you insist," He clutched the keys in his fist and the look he gave you made chills run down your spine. "Enjoy your date, lil' bro."

"Thanks man!" Lester said as Bo slammed the door shut, rattling the whole car. "You alright?" He asked softly once his older brother had stormed off in the direction of your friends.

You scooted back slightly to give him some space, sliding back into your actual seat. "I know he's your brother but... he's so..."

He laughed. "Aggressive? Yeah, he can be. Ain't his fault but it does make bringin' people here tricky." Lester said before gesturing out the window towards your friends, watching Sadie hang off Bo's every word. "Seems to work on your friends jus' fine."

"Not me." You hummed, watching the four of them go inside the auto shop. "I usually have a good read on people. And he's, uh, not good."

"Is that so?" Lester said softly. "Well, y'sure as hell got a good radar then. Figured him out real quick."

You gave Lester a glance, noting the somber look on his face. "What do you mean by it being safer to bring the knife?"

The man chewed on his bottom lip, seeming to mull his options over in his head. "I can't tell ya," He said slowly, "Because then I'd have to kill ya." When you laughed nervously, he just gave you a serious look. "'m serious. I ain't s'pposed to tell strangers what's goin' on."

Cold dread seemed to drench you instantly. "What?" You whispered in horror.

"I can tell ya if you promise not to do anythin' though." He soothed, taking your hand in his. He kept glancing over your shoulder as though expecting Bo to reappear at any moment. "If ya wanna know, you can't get involved."

"Just tell me!" You pleaded, the pocketknife still tight in your fist.

Lester sighed, letting go of your hand and staring out the window, letting the muffled sounds of rain pass through you two as though trying to literally clean the air. When he looked up at you, his eyes once again darting over your shoulder. He let out a soft gasp of surprise and fumbled to turn his car back on, letting it spur to life as you turned to look.

Robbie stumbled out of the auto shop, covered in blood and screaming. He was beelining for you, his screams drowned out by the car engine and the storm. You went to unlock the door but you watched the locks engage. Robbie yanked on the door handle frantically, screaming something about Bo having killed Leon.

But you didn't even have time to react as Lester threw the car in reverse and took off, leaving you horrified and confused. You rounded on him immediately. "We need to help!"

"I can't get involved!" Lester said, looking as panicky as you. "I- I ain't a fan of what they do either but I-" He stammered, torn between focusing on the road and trying to placate you.

"Did Bo kill Leon?!" You gasped in horror.

Lester gave you a helpless look. "I- Maybe? I- I dunno, he's killed a lotta people at this point." He squinted, trying to navigate the rain that began to streak across the windshield with how fast he was driving, obscuring a lot of the vision outside. "He 'n Vinny've been doin' this for ages now!"

"Doing- Doing what?!" You felt frantic, yanking on the car door with no real luck. What would you even do if it opened? Where could you go?

"Killin' people!" Lester said, slamming his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. "They've been killin' people and I don't get involved. 'n if you value your life, you shouldn't either."

He slammed hard on the breaks just before the front of the car slammed into a tree. The two of you let out a shared sigh and slumped over.

"'m sorry sweetpea." Lester said quietly, leaning against his steering wheel as exhaustion seemed to set in. "Was followin' y'all. 's how I found ya. Was gonna ship ya off to Bo 'n Vince but you were so..." He lifted his head to look at you with soft, glassy eyes. "'m so sorry."

You trembled, still breathing heavy. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"No." Lester's answer was immediate. "I ain't a killer. Not like my brothers are." He looked like he wanted to reach for you again, remorse clear on his face. "'m really sorry. Honest. I-"

"Are my friends going to die?" You asked, your voice warbling slightly. "Did- Did you just drive away from my dying friends?" He turned his head to look at you and gave you a slow nod. You let out a quiet gasp, scooting away from him until your back was up against the door. "Let me out! I need to go help them!"

Lester shook his head helplessly. "I can't. Bo's already seen ya 'n if you go after him, he'll kill ya too."

"Then why give me a knife?!"

"I just-" Lester sighed. "I just didn't want you to go down easy. Ain't no one ever escape my brothers. They're brutal 'n dedicated. I... I didn't want you to get hurt."

A lapse of silence passed between you two, the only sound coming from the rain. Lester buried his face back into his arms while you tried to come to terms with what you'd learnt. Lester's brothers abducted and killed people. And Lester had just served your friends up to Bo on a silver platter, but not you.

You had a knife, still clenched in your fist, and you could probably get the jump on Lester if you had to. You could steal his car and go rescue them or, at the very least, escape.

But you didn't want to hurt Lester...

"Why didn't you let me go with them?" You finally asked with a resigned sigh.

Lester looked up with tired, sad eyes. "Didn't want em to have ya. 'Cus you're a good, kind person 'n you trusted me. Felt like I was betraying ya. So I saw an openin' and I took it."

You nodded slowly. "So what now?"

"Well, ya got a few choices actually." Lester said as he straightened up. "You could go back. Try your luck against my brothers, try 'n save your friends. Or," He said with a shy glance your way, "You could come with me."

"Where would we go?"

Lester motioned out the windshield. "I got a lil' house in the woods nearby. We could hold down till the storm passes." Big brown eyes focused on you as he nervously wrung his hands. "I'd, uh, have to introduce you to my brothers in the morning. But I'd protect ya. Let 'em know you're with me now."

You felt your face heat up and you hated yourself for it. Your friends were being killed and the guy who led them to their deaths was making you blush like a schoolchild with a crush. You couldn't help it though. Lester was sweet, in the short time you'd met him. He didn't want to see you hurt and did what he could to protect you.

"With you?" You teased him with a wet chuckle. And your smile grew when you saw the way the tips of Lester's ears burned with how hard he blushed.

He gave you a shy nod. "Y-yeah. If you're with me, then- then they won't bother ya. Not killable anymore." You reached over and took his hands gently, uncaring of the dirt and roughness there. "You couldn't leave though."

A sigh left your lips. "I either stay or die?"

Lester looked close to tears when he nodded. "'m really sorry, sweetpea, I really am. Should'a never gone after ya." He freed one of his hands to cup your face gently, his touch soft despite the roughness of his hands and the guilt in his eyes.

You two sat there for awhile before you nodded, swallowing back a sob of your own. "Okay," You sighed, "Okay, I'll go with you."

He gave you a look of utter relief, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll keep ya safe, sweetpea. I promise."

When you pulled him in for a hug, your face buried in his shoulder, you let your shoulders relax. And you let yourself believe him.

[littledovesnow]

the sound of snow

request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?

a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?

also italics are when there's sign language being used :)

also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best

-----

Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.

Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.

All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.

When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.

During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.

His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.

Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.

One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.

It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.

-----

Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.

He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”

You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.

“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.

“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”

Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.

“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.

“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.

“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”

You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”

Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.

-----

 Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.

Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.

“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.

Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.

You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.

Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.

As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.

“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”

Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.

At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.

“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”

Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”

The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.

“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.

“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.

You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”

The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”

Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”

Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.

 Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.

“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”

You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.

“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”

You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.

Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.

When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”

Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.

-----

After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.

Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.

“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.

You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”  

The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.

Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.

It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.

You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.

It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.

“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”

Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.

-----

You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.

“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.

Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”

You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”

Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”

“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.

-----

a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know

[crowsofdarkness]

Solace-One Shot

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: roughly 3K

Warnings: language with a smidge of angst.

Summary: When the past comes knocking, will reader give up her perfect, quiet life to be with the one man she vowed never to speak with again?

*originally posted on my old blog*

The sound of rain slapping against large, glass windows, eased my body and consciousness deeper into sleep. My soft snores echoed in tangent with the rain and I could feel my body sink further into the mattress, the last day falling away around me. It hadn’t been an exciting day, just spent working in the garden and working on my art; the same thing I had done so much of the last handful of years. It may not have been exciting to some but to me, it was my own solace. 

To be honest, the world past the treeline of my back yard scared me, even after all this time. I thought I had adjusted well but every time I went out into public for whatever reason, I was proven wrong. 

I never found myself complaining, however, with everything I had gone through and seen, I ended up retreating to this small cottage in the middle of nowhere Washington, away from civilization that scared me. Washington had no meaning to me, the farther I got away from him the better. I hadn’t seen him in over six years so I knew that I might have been over reacting in how far I tried to get away but I could never be too safe in something like this. 

Even if I hadn't seen him in so long, that didn’t stop the news or rumors of him finding its way to me. I never believed it, though. I knew who he was, truly. This life I had been living, we used to talk about how it would be for the both of us. Building our home together on a large piece of land with either the mountains or a lake in the backyard, somewhere for our kids to grow up in and us to grow old in. 

But with how things ended between us, I opted in creating this future without him. 

My body turned to the other end of the bed, the rain sounding behind me however with the knocking that echoed from the front door drained out the rain. It was a quiet but familiar knock. 

Our knock. 

Three raps against the wood then one solo knock followed by two more. 

My eyes snapped open, the drowsiness from sleep evaporating as I sat up in bed, gazing to the dark hallway outside of my bedroom door. All I could hear now was the rain until the knock sounded once more, this time a bit more persistent. 

“No way,” I muttered while letting my feet guide me towards my front door. 

It couldn’t be him. There was no way he could have found me, I made sure to cover my tracks when I moved out here. 

My eyebrows raised up in confusion when I looked out of the little peep hole, seeing nothing but darkness. 

Maybe I dreamed it?

I turned to head back to bed but when the same knock blasted behind me, I swiftly opened the door only to be met with more darkness. 

“This isn’t funny!,” I yelled. “You’re fucking with the wrong person.” 

The knife I had snatched from the table next to the front door clenched tightly in my hand. 

“Y/N.” 

Out of the darkness emerged the man that had been taking over my dream tonight, only this time he was in front of me, in the flesh, looking very different from the last time I had seen him. 

Long hair slicked back, a thick beard covering his face, and his once patriotic and noticeable suit was now worn down and almost dark, matching the way his eyes looked. 

They used to be so bright, full of life and love. But now, they were almost unrecognizable. 

“St-steve?” I stammered, stumbling away from him. 

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Hey doll.” 

My head shook, still not believing that he was in front of me. “Wha-what are you-how did you find me-what happened-is that blood?” 

A million questions ran through my mind and I didn’t know which one to ask first

I pointed to a wet spot on his suit, blood seeping through from what I was guessing a wound on his thigh; the large tear in his suit also gave me the answer I was looking for. 

Steve glanced down at it before a sigh fell through his lips. “I’m okay.” 

Our eyes locked and suddenly I felt myself become filled with rage. I hadn't seen Steve in so long that this is how he showed up on my doorstep? In the middle of the night and what looks like fresh off of a fight? 

 “How in the hell did you find me?” 

His lips parted to speak but a red head came bounding up the stairs towards us. The porch light casted over her face and even if I never met her before, I knew exactly who she was. 

“That actually was me. It took me some time, you really took yourself off of the map.” 

I raised a brow at her. “For good reason. You’re with him?” 

She nodded. “Natasha Romanoff.” 

It was my turn to nod, my suspicion of who she was proved right. 

“Y/N, we need your help.” 

Steve reached for me and I snatched my hand away, eyes sliced into him. 

“You disappear on me for years, after everything we had gone through together, and have the fucking balls to show up here asking for a favor?” I seethed. 

“We told him it was a bad idea to come here but he wouldn’t listen.” 

Another figure emerged from the darkness up my steps and I groaned in annoyance. 

“How many people did you bring to my house, Rogers?” I asked. 

“I’m Sam, Sam Wilson.” He nodded an introduction. “I’m sure Steve would be the first to tell you that we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t actually need your help.” 

I took in all three of their appearances and noticed exactly how tired they were. I wasn’t sure what the three of them had gotten themselves into but did know that whatever they were running from was important enough to come here. 

With a hesitant nod, I opened the front door allowing the three bodies to quickly slip inside. Knife still clenched in my hand, I did a quick once over of my wrap around porch to make sure that no one had followed them. Once it was clear, I slipped back inside my house and locked the door behind me. 

“So you're wanted for treason because you guys didn’t sign some kind of accords to stop you from fighting? ” I asked Natasha. 

“It’s complicated, I know. But we really do appreciate you taking us in. We won't be here long, I’m sure.” 

We were sitting at my kitchen island, two cups of coffee placed in front of us, and I glanced over to my living room where Sam and Steve were quietly talking amongst themselves; most likely their next plan. 

Steve had his back to me and in the way his shoulders tensed, whatever they had been running from had kept them on the run for awhile. 

“How long have you guys been on the run?” I asked Natasha, looking back at her. 

Her shoulders dropped. “A long time.” 

“Well, feel free to stay as long as you guys need.” I gave her hand a comforting squeeze. 

The relief that washed over her face was immediately recognizable. “I don’t know what happened between you and Steve but I do know that this was the last place he wanted to hide out.” 

“Yeah, well I’m sure he was thrilled to come here,” I spoke with sarcasm.

Natasha raised a brow. “What exactly happened between the two of you?”  

Clearing my throat, I stood from the counter and motioned behind me. “There’s a guest room down the hall next to the bathroom that I’m sure Natasha will want.” 

She smiled a thanks before nodding. 

“Uh, are you two okay with the couches?” I asked more towards Sam. 

He nodded. “Better than what we’ve been sleeping on.” 

Steve refused to meet my gaze, keeping it trained hard on his boots, so I took it as a sign to retreat back to my room. 

“Help yourself to whatever you’d like. There’s extra towels in the hall closet if you guys want to take a shower.” 

Sam and Natasha said their thanks and without another look towards Steve, I slipped back into my bedroom, the door open ajar. 

Shaky hands ran through my hair as I began pacing my room, sputtering words falling from my lips. 

“Why is he here? I’ve done so well without him,” I muttered to myself. 

I could feel my heart hammer hard in my chest and it echoed loud in my ears when I thought of Steve, sitting in my living room; a sight I never thought I would see. My feet dragged over towards the desk in my room and I pulled out an old leather bound book. It was filled with my own thoughts and some pictures, the specific one I was looking for almost slipping away. 

The edges were frayed and the color was faded but the smiles in the picture were still there, bright as the day it was taking, almost a hundred years ago. 

Steve’s small arms wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me close. My hand squeezing the other man's face, the laughter from that day was still fresh in my mind. 

I traced a finger over the other man's face, a quiet sob echoing through the room. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

This picture was taken before Steve became the soldier he was now, back when everything was easier. The three of us grew up together since elementary school and Bucky and I became close as we reached high school. Everyone said we were the perfect couple and I thought so too until I thought I had lost him. 

The night Steve had come to tell me that Bucky was gone was one of the hardest nights I had gone through; the night Steve left me behind was a close second. 

I loved Bucky, still do to this day, and will always love him. 

Guilt pulled at my heart because as much as I loved Bucky, I don’t think I could ever love him more than him. 

Steve. 

With a soft sigh, I placed the book back into the drawer of my desk and slipped underneath the covers of my bed, which had gone cold. I forced my eyes closed, hoping that the past wouldn’t resurface, however no matter how hard I kept them away, they slipped back. Loud, angry voices, bouncing around my head. 

Bucky’s alive but he’s not the same as you remember. You can’t go after him” 

Screw you, Rogers! You can’t keep him from me. 

Doll, I swear it’s not a good time for you to see him. He won’t remember you.” 

Is this part of your plan? Keeping us apart because we’re sleeping together?

With a loud groan, I turned over in bed, facing the doorway, and I found myself wondering what Steve was doing right now. 

I love you, Steve. 

I love you too, Y/N. But I have to do this. It’s the only way to keep you safe. 

Throwing the blankets off of me in an instant, I tugged on a sweater and quietly slipped out of my bedroom and back door, sleep being foreign now. Thankfully I was able to go unnoticed by the voices coming from the living room. 

The cold breeze blew past me, wrapping around my bare ankles, as I sat on the back step, allowing the sounds of the rain to ease my racing mind. 

“You always found the sound of the rain comforting.”

My heart hammered against the cage in my chest as I watched Steve lean against the post, arms crossed over his chest. 

I nodded. “Do you guys need anything?” 

Steve shook his head. “Sam and Natasha are already asleep.” 

“You can't?” I asked. 

“We’ve been on the run so long that my body is used to being on guard,” he confessed. 

I started chipping away at the polish on my fingers, nerves wrecking my body. This was the first time in so long that Steve and I were alone and there was the unsure of if he had still felt the same. 

I did, there wasn’t any doubt about it. 

“Has he reached out?” Steve asked, treading lightly on the conversation. 

I nodded. “He called me a few weeks ago to check in. He’s doing really well where he’s at. The young girl is helping him get his memories back.” 

It was Steve’s turn to nod. “Shuri, she’s taking good care of him.” 

Silence fell between us and I looked up to the sky, the large moon casting a glow over the skin of my face; Steve’s as well. 

I didn’t want to admit it out loud but he looked absolutely breathtaking, especially with the long hair and beard. 

“Does he know-?” Steve trailed off. 

“About us?” I finally looked into his eyes.

When Steve nodded, I continued with a sigh. “Yeah but if I’m being honest, it’s been so long since Bucky and I were together that the love we shared isn’t the same as it used to be. We both agreed that although we love each other, we both needed to move on.”

He pulled his sweater closer to his chest, the sudden breeze causing us both to shiver. 

“What about me?” 

I was on my feet quickly as I walked back towards my house, not wanting to have this conversation with him. 

“I’m not doing this, Steve,” I informed while walking past him. 

“Doll, please,” He reached for me. 

“Don’t,” I seethed while pulling my hand away. “You lost the right to call me that when you left me behind.” ‘

“I didn’t have a choice, Y/N. It was the only way to keep you safe,” Steve defended. 

“I told you that I loved you that morning and that evening you were gone! If you never loved me all you had to do was say that.” I spat. 

Steve ran a hand over his face with a loud sigh. “I did love you, sweetheart. I did it for you; for us.” 

“You left me behind, Steve! When I needed you the most, you packed up and left! Who does that to someone they love, after everything we have been through!” 

My screams could be heard miles away and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that Sam and Natasha had awoken, probably wondering what Steve and I had been fighting about. 

“I was with you on that plane when you took it into the water, or did you forget?!” 

Steve’s face twisted with sorrow. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day, Y/N. I blame myself every day that I allowed you to be on the ship. I thought I could have kept you safe.” 

Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. “We both went to sleep together that day, in the ice. We both woke up together, seventy years later. But you weren’t the only one that had to adjust!” 

“I know, I should have been there for you,” Steve stepped towards me. 

I stepped back from him. “The second you left, Fury took me under his wing, trained me to be his next assassin, something that I never wanted for my life. You didn’t want it for me either. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed to survive somehow!” 

Steve parted his lips to speak but I continued to rant on, everything I had bottled up all these years finally spewing from my mouth. 

“I was in this new world where nothing made sense so Fury used that to his advantage. I did things I’m not proud of and it gives me nightmares to this day which is why I had to get away. I needed to get far away from that life.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized. 

It went in one ear and right out the other. 

“Why now? Why did you decide now to come back into my life? I was finally getting over you, settling into a life that wasn’t filled with death or heartbreak. Then you came back, looking like this, and it brought everything back,” I sobbed while motioning to his new look.

Steve inched closer to me. “We needed a safe space and I knew that Fury had some place set up for you where no one can find you.” 

“So you only came to hide out, then what? Plan to make me love you again, fall into my bed, then leave before the sun comes up?” I accused with a hard gaze. 

“That was never going to happen,” He reassured me. “I knew that if I were to come back to you that I would need to do whatever it took to make it up to you.” 

I sucked in my lip. “Do you still love me?” 

The question burned deep in my stomach, spewing out like vomit in wanting to know the answer. 

“Never stopped.” 

Steve didn’t hesitate his answer for a second. 

The dormant butterflies sparked, their wings fluttering in my stomach slightly. 

“Do you still love me?” Steve asked. 

Before, I wanted to avoid this question with every fiber in my being because I never knew how Steve felt so now that I had his answer, I knew what to say. 

“Never stopped.” I repeated his own words. 

We shared a small smile but I held up my hand to stop Steve, who wanted to take a step towards me. Even though we admitted that we still loved one another and no matter how many times he apologized, I don’t think I was ready to forgive Steve. 

Yet. 

My bottom lip trembled as I let out a shaky breath. “You guys don’t have to rush out of here. Stay as long as you need. To be honest, the company will be nice. And maybe we can talk more about our future.” 

“I’d like that,” Steve admitted, his voice breaking. 

Giving Steve a final smile, I made my way back towards my bedroom, silently hoping that I wasn’t going to regret letting him not only into my home but back into my life.