#and he didn't even look up onto that this weird line of wires that are halfway rotten or burnt or oxidized. one is certainly ripped in half

[interstellarvacuumcleaner]

the electric wiring in houses usually consists of phase and the neutral wire, my guys, don't forget about neutral wire

[duskier]

Sorry thinking about mechanic Ghost and his stolen military weapon robot Soap rn 🫶

cw for dubcon & robot gore but no human gore

Ghost having his arms buried in Soap’s torso, fixing some wires that got pulled loose because Soap definitely pushes himself out of his parameters/limits often- he discovers some of Soap's sensors are, well, sensitive.

It was like any other repair. Soap was sat up on the work bench, so his innards were eye level for Ghost, his chest plate popped out and set to the side. It still weirded Ghost out a little to see a bot look so uncannily human, to be open for display like this as if it were normal. Soap sitting stiller than death with an empty dark metal hull filled with wires and flashing lights instead of flesh.

There was cleaning, troubleshooting, and finally, Ghost had a flashlight buried in his torso to find where the last wire was loose. His scanner read there was still one hiding somewhere.

He was blindly fumbling for the wire, just hoping he would get lucky and he wouldn't have to pop out Soap's back plate as that would take more time.

Listening to the steady electrical buzz that Soap has instead of a heartbeat suddenly turn louder, more intense, and suddenly Soap’s got his metal hand around Ghost's wrist like a vice.

Hydraulics systems hissing, the sound alone reminded Ghost that at the core of it all, despite the sunshine-y human personality, Soap was a machine made to kill and could easily crush his forearm.

He's programmed to have expressions on his head display to increase depth of human communication, and when Ghost looks up, he sees that Soap looked confused. Pixilated brows furrowed, mouth a flat line.

"....Status?" Ghost asked, frozen in place, meeting his eyes. This was strange, even for a rebellious bot like Soap.

There is a long pause, electrical buzzing and Soap's cooling fans whirring being the only sounds while Soap calculated.

"I am... fine." The hand released Ghost's forearm.

It drove Ghost up the wall that a robot like Soap could use such vague human language instead of numerical data like he was supposed to.

"Fine? That didn't seem fine."

Determined to find more out for himself since the bot was useless, he proceeded. Ghost reached his fingers in deeper, the leather of his glove brushing a ribbed metal plate when Soap made a sharp, rapid clicking sound.

"Please..." Soap’s voice was less smooth, more audibly robotic, as if he were shorting out. The buzzing sound was growing more intense, and Ghost ran his knuckles along the metal plate once again.

This time it had Soap’s spine shooting straight, a distressed vibration noise rattling in the bot's chest.

"Does it... hurt?" Ghost asked, fingers stilling for a moment but never pulling back.

The buzzing continued, Soap's face display flickering. "I don't know what it 'feels' like to hurt, Ghost. You know that. This... I don't know." The voice synthesizer was cracking more now, but Soap showed no signs of concern for his CPU.

Ghost felt heavy warmth pooling in his gut, knowing that Soap wasn't programmed to feel- well, anything really, beyond the sensors to improve his dexterity. The batch of bots Soap came from certainly weren't designed to feel pain.

Then again, Soap was so easy to steal because he was defective since his creation.

It was common for humans to project their own feelings onto robots, especially the more humanoid looking ones. Ghost felt himself growing hard in his jeans, mouth going dry. He was certain he was getting the robot off, the idea setting his blood ablaze in his veins.

Even with all of his artificial brilliance and programmed personality, Soap had no idea what this new feeling was. It was overwhelming, like he was getting electrical surges through his entire being. Gears grinding, neural processes pausing and halting. Ghost had asked him if it hurt- from what little of pain Soap could understand he didn't think that was it. It felt like... more.

"Please," Soap said again, but he wasn't sure what he was even asking for. It was like he was being dismantled, put together, and dismantled again. He could hear himself, as if his CPU was separate from his robotic body, making noises he'd never heard from any robot of his make and model.

"Yeah," Ghost replied, both absent and present in the moment, fingers running down the ridges again, pressing a little more insistently.

One of Soap’s hands gripped the table he was sitting on, the force of his grip causing a distinct cracking sound as the wood splintered in his hand. A deeper whirring sound thrummed from the core of his chest, thin vibrations rolling up his spine as Ghost pressed on. Ghost's thighs flexed as he fought to keep his mind straight.

He considered pulling his hand away- wasn't as if robots could cum, right? But it was as if Soap could feel the moment's hesitation and suddenly his hand was around Ghost's forearm again. Pulling him closer, holding him firmly there.

"Gh-" Soap's voice cut out entirely, a spark flying from his neck joint as he let out a flat tone.

Immediately, Soap's face display went blank entirely, the arm locking dead. The buzzing sound of Soap’s heart stopped, the room falling entirely silent.

"Soap? ...Shit, Soap?" Ghost tried to pull his arm free, but the joints were locked.

Seconds felt like minutes but finally a fan kicked on, slowly kicking on processors, and the metal fingers digging into Ghost released one by one.

"You with me?" Ghost asked gently, watching as Soap’s display kicked on.

"What the fuck did you just do to me?" Was Soap’s first question.

The second, "...Can you do it again?"

[opluffys]

Mentor + Mentee-

-second part-

somethin quick, this was posted to my archive first as usual. pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. enjoy!!! :)

tags- thigh riding, vaginal sex, creampie, rough sex, toxic relationship, fem reader.

3.5k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-nsfw/smut-

Hanging up and tossing the heavy wired phone onto your desk, you groaned in pure exasperation. The paperwork on your desk seemed endless, the monotonous and drab of black ink on bright white paper burning your irises, enforcing a migraine on you.

You've just gotten off the phone with, whoever the fuck, discussing the possibility of getting an assistant to help you with the excess of paperwork you've been filling out as of late. You were a doctor, your main job consisted of ensuring your patients didn't bleed out under your steady and careful hand. It was already hard enough, and now you had the added stress of the sneering stack of papers mocking you.

You clicked the ballpoint pen, bouncing your leg as the tip of the pen hit the paper, dark ink pooling and bleeding through the thin material. Your grip tightened just then, the bouncing of your leg increasing tenfold as your thoughts ran wild.

And as you continued to think, you remembered a crucial detail.

The Task Force, fuck, they're coming back today. From some mission, and you're sure Gaz told you all about it while you gave him a routine checkup, but for the life of you, you couldn't remember the main gist of it.

You didn't want to face them, face him.

•

Biting back a wail of pain as you removed the intravenous line from Soap's arm, you heard Gaz howl in laughter from the spare cot he rested on. Which had garnered him an angered stare by Soap.

"You're such a baby," Gaz laughed, turning on his side to stare right at both you and Soap.

"Fuck off." Soap gritted, hissing in agony as you continued to stitch up his lesion.

"You gonna make me?" He teased, his stare not faltering on Soap's. He glared at him, about to retaliate with his own quip before you proceeded to wipe his wound clean, the sterile stench of the antiseptic flooding your nostrils. He let out a muted scream, his good arm covering the top half of his face.

"Keep still, Johnny." You huffed, adjusting the surgical mask pulled over your features. Gaz seemed to be having a field-day at watching the scene unfold, a smug smile on his lips.

"Gaz, I can stop the morphine drip, you know." You hummed, a hidden smile of your own forming. He looked at you, a glint of fear striking his honey eyes. You held back the urge to laugh, you enjoyed teasing both of these boys in your office, and you knew the three of you were aware that you'd never do anything to bring them more pain.

"Sorry ma'am."

Now it was Soap's turn to laugh, and you discarded your surgical gloves while hearing the two hurl crude insults at one another. They provided decent white noise, and you'd take that over the deafening silence of your rampant thoughts whilst your pen danced elegantly over the various documents.

The two eventually quieted down, a tranquil silence over them as you watched the pain medication take effect on their bodies. Not even five minutes passed before you heard them snore loudly, all cuddled up into the scratchy hospital blankets.

It'd been a couple of days since the entirety of the Task Force had returned. You've only been treating Gaz and Soap, your full attention on them. Usually, you would treat them all, but you honestly didn't want to face Ghost one on one. So, to take some heat off of you, you asked another medic to tend to both Price and Ghost. Just so he didn't feel like you'd singled him out.

But, your attempts would be in vain.

•

Stretching and hearing your joints and ligaments pop in relief, you slumped over the desk, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you filed the last group of papers. Both Gaz and Soap had left your office today, thanking you for taking care of them (after raiding your lollipop drawer).

So, you sat alone, the small swooshes of air against your body feeling welcomed, the ceiling fan above creaking with every spin. All you'd have to do now was stamp the final line of the packet, ensuring you've read over the contents carefully, and then you were free. Free to run into the uncomfortable and ill-fitting confines of your bunk.

You were lost in the work, so much so you hadn't even noticed the hulking figure taking up most of the space within your office.

"You're avoidin' me."

You nearly shrieked in terror, almost developing a fatal case of tachycardia as you held your hand over your rapidly beating heart.

"What?" Part of you wasn't really surprised that Ghost had managed to sneak up on you, it was his job, after all.

"You're avoidin' me," He repeated, stepping closer to you in large and fluid strides.

"No, I'm not avoiding you. Don't be ridiculous." Yes, I am.

"Actin' all innocent on me," He was right across from you now, his large hands resting on the cheap and fake wood of your desk, hearing it creak under his weight, "we both know that's not the truth."

"It is." It isn't.

"Get up." He commanded, and you knew that tone, that authoritarian inside of him being twisted and used against you in a way that it shouldn't.

"I'm busy." Liar.

"I won't ask again."

You shuddered lightly, telling yourself that it was just because of the excessive air from the ceiling fan skating across your heated skin. But you knew such a thing was a falsified truth.

"What? What is so important that-"

"Come over here." He hushed you before you could even finish your sentence, seating himself on a sterilised and neatly prepped cot. It was all too familiar, to the point where that same damned familiar throbbing and heat was felt in between your legs.

Your legs shook, hesitating to even take a single step towards Ghost, your mind and body both telling you different things. It was tearing you apart in the most agonising and tortuous way.

Still, you'd made you way towards him, standing idly as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. A scowl formed on your lips, eyes flickering to his chilled demeanour. You hated how he was always so calm- so tranquil and at ease, like he wasn't feeling the same things you were, maybe because he's not, at least not for you.

"Sit." He spread his massive legs, indicating exactly where he'd wanted you. You listened wordlessly, taking a seat on his muscled thighs, your hands fisting into your scrubs.

"Make it quick," You huffed, now attempting to remove your uniform, "I have a lot to do." You sighed, fingers hooking at your waistband and pulling down, or at least you'd attempted to do so, being stopped by a harsh hand encapsulating both of your wrists.

He held your hip with his lone hand, beginning to slide you over the thick muscle of his thigh, hearing you gasp in shock. His eyes pierced your own, roughly continuing to move you atop him, the material of both your scrubs and panties against your clit overwhelming.

The both of you continued to stare at one another, your breath quickening as you felt that cursed familiarity of your orgasm creeping up on you with silent strides. Your hands were still stuck in Ghost's firm grasp, wanting nothing more than to grab at him, to pull his mask forward and kiss him like you'd perish without it. Without him.

Just thinking of such a scenario had you reeling, your hips jerking as you felt your clit being rubbed just by his thigh alone. The feeling of his as well as your uniform dragging against that sensitive nub making your mind go hazy.

As you felt your release become imminent, he stopped his movements, unshackling your hands from his grip. He hastily tore your uniform, something of which he'd only done when he was particularly angered. With you or his mission, you had no clue.

His cruel stare on you was discomforting, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat- something subhuman. Just a body to warm his cock, and how fitting your thoughts were- because he quickly slipped his own bottoms down, revealing his erect cock for a split second before burying himself inside of you.

Always so rushed, hurried and lacking any control. A crude opposition to him on the field.

You suppressed a high pitched moan, hands itching to touch him, to ground yourself against him and ride him until your thighs would burn akin to hellfire. He let out a deep grunt, his hand slapping the excess flesh at your ass, bouncing you atop him like you had been weightless.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were familiar with the fact that you were just Ghost's stress reliever. How he'd prowl into your office during the late hours to bend you over any surface and fuck you until muted screams left your lips.

For a while, you didn't mind it at all.

In actuality, you'd enjoyed such a thing. You felt an odd sense of honour swell in your chest, at the sole fact that he'd chosen you. He chose your body to hold onto, to whisper vile and cruel things in your ear, to grab at your body like that was all you were- a body. Void of a soul, a conscious, anything.

Being his personal fuck-doll had its ups and downs, where he'd make you orgasm more times than you could count, fucking you until you cried. But the polar opposite, of when he'd leave dark purples on your thighs, your hips, neck, fucking everywhere.

Like he was doing now.

You felt his hands roam around your softer body, catching at the fat of your hips, anchoring himself to you and bouncing you atop his thick and girthy cock with fervour. It was as if he didn't know the extent of his raw strength, already biting dark hues of purple into your soft and delicate skin.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body struggled not to slump forward, flush against his strong chest. You didn't touch him, you swore you wouldn't. He didn't deserve it. A pathetic little thing you told yourself, just so you didn't get attached, because there was nothing more you'd yearned for to hold him like a lover did. To wrap your arms around him and feeling him lovingly piston into you, to kiss your cheek tenderly while your wet insides squeezed him with a vengeful grasp.

It's all too late, anyway.

He stopped, grabbing your chin and watching as your eyes popped open in disillusion.

"Eyes on me," Low, accented tone gravelly as he commanded you.

How dare he, your eyes met his instantaneously. Watching intently as his platinum lashes rested on his zygoma for a millisecond before opening back up to look at you. To look into you, to pick you apart, seemingly, until you turned to nothing. An obedient creature glued to his side, aching knees and jaw being ignored as you served him, like the good little thing you were.

His strained sounds were heard, quiet groans and animalistic sounding grunts as he thrusted upwards, bashing into your womb again and again. It hurt so good and you fucking hated it. You hated how just sole eye contact alone would have you naked and pressed against his clothed chest, fat cock stretching your insides.

Fuck, you loved it.

You absolutely adored it, being stuffed full of him, his mushroom tip pressing flush against your womb. Loved the bruises, the blemishes he's caused. His markings, claiming you as his, his plaything. Like an infants grubby hands over a shiny new toy, slobbering all over it and showing everyone that it was theirs.

No, you'd repeat, whilst being lifted off of him, your hands linked with each other behind your back, before being brought back down to him. Heavy cock twitching inside your tight walls, slick coating his dick, veiny and big, always reaching new spots inside of you. Spots that had searing stars incandescently tug at your vision.

Conflicting emotions, a curse, something that'd have you lay awake at night. Lay in your own cot, or sat next to an ill patient. Thinking about him, wondering, perhaps he was thinking of you, too.

How laughable.

Your eyes wandered, the interminable connection of your irises to his inadmissible. His eyes were always so eloquent, nearly showing what he'd been thinking. You couldn't stand it. You enjoyed the mask, enjoyed not seeing his face, because then, it'd be that much more personal. He wouldn't be Ghost to you anymore, he'd be someone, someone more than just a bed warmer.

Would you, though?

He squeezed your hips, garnering your attention to him once more. His brows furrowed, a thin sheet of sweat encompassing the two of you. He continued to fuck into your slick heat, revelling in how you always took him so well, as he said. Drunk off of you alone, and it was one of those nights.

"Fuckin' made for me,"

Just a slip of the tongue.

But no, you took that and ran with it, lungs burning while your legs continued to sprint. Oh, how you wished that was the case. You were tethered to him for a single purpose, for him to empty himself into you, to lay you across the hospital cot and fuck you from the back, always feeling him so deep. A place where no other man could dare to traverse, could never reach, anyway.

Was it on purpose?

Moulding you to his shape, getting you accustomed (it was always impossible anyways, taking him) to his cock. To spite you when you settled down, found a man who would love you, who would care for you. He wouldn't be enough, because Ghost already left his mark.

You were knocked out of your thoughts, thankfully, when you felt his gloved fingers begin to rub tight circles into your clit. His eyes now studied where the two of you had been joined, watching as your greedy pussy would always desperately pull his girth back in for more, a pathetic beg, don't leave.

You suddenly wailed, your hands grabbing his broad shoulders for purchase as your body shook. Toes curling, back arching as your eyes etched shut, sparkly tears trailing down your heated cheeks. You came hard against him, your essence coating his cock as he fucked you relentlessly, low and deep growls rumbling through his chest. He cursed, feeling your velvety insides continuing to take him deeper inside, he's already giving it all to you but fuck, you want more, you want it all.

"Such a greedy little thing."

He always knew what you were thinking.

"Love when I fuck you like this, don't you?"

Yes, no, yes, no-

"When I fill you up, fuckin' love it, don't you," He groaned, throwing his head back as he buried himself deep within you, nearly invading the inside of your womb as his warm and thick seed filled you. Marking you so that no other man could ever- would ever, do something striking even to him. Such a cruelty, acting like you'd belonged to him. You didn't know what he'd looked like, only aware of his name from medical records.

"Always so good for me."

And you hated how that had been the unvarnished truth.

•

You stared at your hands, ungloved and bare. Soft, skilled, shaking.

Why?

You'd touched him, in a way you swore you wouldn't ever. You'd expected to be thrown off, to be looked at as scum, worse than such a thing.

It was an accident, you didn't mean to. You weren't thinking straight, it was unfeasible with him splitting you open atop his lap. You just needed to ground yourself against him, for fear of falling, pathetic excuses.

A rueful thing you'd been over the next days, your usual adept hands quivering and trembling as you'd treated some of your patients.

You heard the click of a door open, and your posture snapped up, glossy eyes searching for who entered your space.

A breath of relief as it had just been Price.

You snapped a fresh pair of gloves on, bright blue going well with your dark scrubs. You led him to a cleaned cot, asking him just what the problem had been.

"Nothin' much, love." You loathed yourself for how your heart desired him to call you more pet names. To fill in Ghost's shadow and take care of you, as the natural leader he was. You were sure he'd be excellent at doing so.

"Missed your stitches, though." He huffed, relaxing into the bed as you ran an intravenous line for him just in case.

You looked at him, a quizzical glint in your eye. "My medic didn't take good care of you two?" Just you-

"Oh, no, didn't mean it like that." He looked penitent, kind eyes trailing over you before returning back to your stare. "Just meant that you know me better, sweetheart."

It was the truth, you were the Task Force's doctor, after all. It was just an innocent compliment of how good of a physician you'd been. Yet, you felt dizzy, the room a pirouette as you forced yourself to become calm.

"I'll keep that in mind next time, Price." You smiled, motioning for him to lift his shirt to check his lesions and other deep gashes that required attention. Your medic had done a good job, stitching and sterilising his wounds. But, the stitches were beginning to loosen, and you didn't need the wound becoming infected.

Your touches on him were always solicitous on him, more so than the others. Your gloved fingertips gentle on his muscled body, your stare wrongfully looking at his abs, lower and lower to that mesmerising trail of h-

"Gaz and Soap again?" He questioned, his gruff voice shaking you.

You looked at him confused, before he nodded towards the empty jar of sweets. You hadn't even noticed, they must've done so when you were out of the room, those stealthy bastards.

"Had to be," You laughed, making a mental note to restock the jar, "sorry you didn't get one."

"S'alright love." He hummed, his striking blues closing as you redid the stitches over his abdomen, watching as his stomach twitched in response to your careful and airy touch.

You finished quickly, removing your gloves and tossing them in a spare bin. You questioned if he'd wanted the extra fluids and medication, but he'd declined, thanking you for patching him up.

You motioned to clean your station, grabbing the bag of saline fluid before it had popped open, spilling all over your top. You cursed in vexation, more angry at the lost supplies rather than your soiled uniform.

Price quickly was at your side, spare cloth in hand as he attempted to clean the saline from your scrubs. "It's fine," You said, not used to being so close to him. His scent was intoxicating, that hint of smoke already having you feel utterly addicted to his presence alone.

He brushed you off, offering his services as he continued to dry you off. The cloth caught on the neck of the scrubs, pulling the material just below your clavicle, just where that array of purple lay, unperturbed on your skin. He let out a rushed apology, fixing you to look decent, his demeanour so focused on you.

Normally, it was the other way around.

But it felt nice being the one taken care of, for once.

•

Tossing your uniform into the laundry, you felt nice in a new set of clothes. No longer being confined to scrubs, but instead a comfortable cotton outfit against you. You eyed yourself in the mirror, clicking your tongue in distaste. Dark rings of purple running around the underside of your eyes, looking as if you haven't slept in years. Hell, it felt that way, too.

You'd had a long day, full of monotonous paperwork, sobbing soldiers who had flooded your office, crying for their mothers, and the thoughts of both Ghost and Price so tiring. You were giddy to finally be able to curl up into your bunk, drifting off into a dreamless sleep before your day would repeat at dawn.

And that was exactly what you had planned to do, to forget the days contents and reset and rest for the next.

But there Ghost was, at your door and telling you something, his words lost on you as you stared at him, balaclava pulled securely in place. Your eyes were fixed on his shoulders, right where you'd touched.

He beckoned you on to follow after him, and you wanted to plant your feet to the floor. To tell him no, to tell him that you had better things to do than to get fucked by him tonight.

Of course, you didn't do any of that.

Instead, you followed his lead, not asking a single question the entire way.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Raiden x Reader: Plasma Ball

~~~~~~~~~~~~ The clock on the coffee table to your side read in bright red 5:13 p.m, and all you could hear outside is the light showering of rain.

That wasn't what stopped you from perhaps ordering a delivery, but maybe because you're aware of it being a frequent habit you spend money on, and rent was about due soon.

Resting your arm on the edge of your leather couch and placing your chin on your palm, you just looked around your living room, thinking of what to do to alleviate the burning boredom in your mind.

Television was of course an option, but there isn't any interesting show you could watch and you were procrastinating to catch up on the anime, overwhelmed how far you were behind with the six hundred episodes you at least had left. Shit, maybe more, the show never ended yet.  (Damnit, Oda.)

Eyes lowering to the game console below the TV, you thought about it, but that was also a no-go. Games aren't that fun anymore, especially if your internet pals got lives as well.

Last but not least, the bookshelf next to the TV stand. Immediate no.

But thinking of books, you looked to your right looking at your godly partner, his attention completely confiscated by the huge novel in his hands.

You couldn't help but gaze at his face, zoning out in thought. One could say you're admiring him. Though he wasn't a man of fun, you could interact with him and enjoy yourself.

Letting out a sigh, you waited for him to look at you and speak up. But the only movement from him was just him turning a page in the book. So, you tried again with a more forced one.

Yet, there was still no response from him, his faded eyes locked in the story. And you know he heard that one too.

"Raiden!" You yell, disliking not getting his attention.

"What is it, Y/n?" The Thunder Lord questions, not even looking at you.

Moving your body against his larger one, your head rubbing against his shoulder, you answered honestly with a soft utter. "I'm bored."

"Read a book." Was all he said, which makes you more frustrated. You groan and clung onto him more. "Pleaseee, why are you so boring?"

Raiden raises an eyebrow at you for a millisecond before going back to reading. "I'm not an entertainer."

You backed off a bit and thought what you could do to mess with him for a bit, and you got a good idea. A funny one that already made you snicker.

"Wait, I'll be right back!" Raiden looked at you confused, wondering what you thought was funny, or more so, what you were planning.

Jumping off the couch, you ran to your closet to dig for an item that you haven't seen in years.

The long white-haired man could hear you shuffling things around, items crashing on the floor, making you swear from your clumsiness. It didn't take too long for you to find the object you looked for, though.

Running back to the living room with a smile, Raiden sees you carrying some weird glass ball stuck to a small black stand. He could classify that it was something relevant to technology, as a black wired plug trailed behind you.

Carefully bending down to plug the device in beside the couch where he sits,  you chuckle and turn the device on, the center globe inside the glass glowing pink.

"Watch this." You smile and set the ball on the table before using your fingers to touch it, causing bright static lines to appear beneath the pads of your fingers.

Raiden watched with a blank look. Nevertheless, he was somewhat intrigued.

"I'm like you!" Your corny comment makes him give the typical unimpressed old man look on his face.

Another silly idea grew into your head and you looked at the switched-off lamp. You grabbed the shade off it before going back to the plasma ball, putting the shade on your head and touching the device again. It would seem Raiden knew where you were going with this.

Smirking with the conical pretended hat, you mimicked with a deep voice, "I mUsT cOnSuLt WiTh ThE eLdEr GoDs!"

After that, you just couldn't keep a straight face and burst with laughter. Laughing hard enough, you were snorting and not even making regular laughing noises, which makes yourself even more amused.

Raiden, on the other hand, got enough of your shit real quick and swiftly stood from the couch to remove the lampshade off your head. With one finger, he uses his power to send a brief shock to you, which makes your hair stand up and frizzy.

You shut up and stared at him with a taken aback look.

It was all in great fun. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 40)

It was weird, being alone again.

Uzi was in her workshop, wiring up key parts of her railgun with the precision only a drone could have, Tera was curled in her lap upright, gripping onto her like monkey would it's parent, purr emanating from her core periodically.

N had left that morning brimming with excitement about asking her dad for a job at the WDF, he'd said something along the lines of “what's better then a living weapon to protect the bunker?��

She'd wanted to argue, to tell him he wasn't a weapon, but he'd been giving her a chaste kiss goodbye and was out the door before she could even say a word.

“Mama?” Tera's voice wafted up towards her, causing her thoughts to immediately get lost in the sea of her consciousness, she looked down, one hand already on the toddlers back.

“Yes, Jellybean?”

Tera didn't know any more words yet, but she did know that she had her mother's attention, and opened and closed her mouth, a bit like a baby bird, only with less terrifying open mouthed screaming.

“Hungry?” Uzi laughed, and Tera flashed her a big grin, clearly proud of her communication skills.

“Alright, come on then.” Uzi put down her tools and lifted her daughter up to her chest as she stood, Tera giggled, though it was intermingled with a low trill that sent a pleasant haze through the older drones system.

Kit is happy.

Don't need your freaking input.

She made her way to the fridge, the appliance didn't get much use, but it did allow her to preserve several bottles of oil for Tera, keeping it cold. It didn't seem to help cool her down anymore, but it did give her side a much needed break.

Which was helpful, if she was going to doing this for the next six years. Ugh, her systems recoiled from that, maybe her side would eventually get used to it.

Speaking of, she was checking her oil for any signs of being contaminated, considering the head wound she had gotten bled, but the oil coming out of her side panel seemed to be normal, thankfully.

She was still a little wary, Tera had been showing signs of… solver bullshit. But nothing entirely concrete had cropped up yet, and she was hoping it would stay that way. What she knew of it, it was code, something genetic or the closest thing drones had instead, Tera had none of her code, so she should be safe.

At least, Uzi really, really hoped so.

She gripped one of the tiny bottles and tipped it into Tera's mouth, and while Tera's hand rested on the side of it, she made no attempt to grab at it, her moter functions were about the equivalent of a 8 month old human baby, just… combined with JCJenson industrial strength hydraulic grip.

“There you go.” She cooed, slightly embarrassed at herself, she'd never thought of herself as being maternal, not really, she knew how to care for a baby from her mom and the time they spent in the nursery, but she had fallen into this quite… naturally.

She couldn't ever imagine leaving her daughter alone, not when the droneling looked up at her like she was the greatest thing ever, even when she was working, Tera was with her, or, at least, so long as what she was working on was relatively safe enough for her to be nearby.

Right now, her railgun was completely depowered, and whatever parts could discharge were now housed safely in the railguns frame, leaving the only one to get shocked if Uzi misplaced a wire, was herself.

Tera finished up her meal, and Uzi took the bottle away from her mouth, wiping what was left away with her finger, Tera giggled at the ticklish sensation, before blowing a raspberry and sticking out her tongue.

“What? Tickle?” Uzi smirked, before poking the toddler in the stomach lightly, causing several more giggles to erupt from the droneling, which of course, caused Uzi to rapid fire a couple more until Tera began to try to swat her away (clumsily and unsuccessfully).

“Mmm.” Tera made a noise, before pouting with a look that Uzi probably made this morning, all that was missing was the crossed arms.

“Jeeze, I hope you're not a mini me. That would be depressing.” She commented, she'd turned out the way she did through the absence of her parents, and Tera would always have her and N, so at the very least, she wouldn't be alone.

As long as she could help it.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

N got to the front door of the WDF office extremely quickly, aided in part to his height but also his extreme excitement in being useful again, both to colony and to Uzi.

After all, isn't that what he was supposed to do? Provide?

He blinked, before smiling, Yes! Yes that's exactly what he was supposed to do, provide for his family, protect them, and this way, he could do both!

He was given weapons for a reason, right?

He knocked on the door, it being a deep, ancient wood instead of the automatic steel ones of most the bunker, a bronzed plaque pinned on the front; Worker Defense Force HQ.

“Comin’!” A gruff muffled voice came out from behind the door, it wasn't Khan, the voice wasn't deep enough, but it did sound like a throat destroyed by years of drinking battery acid.

N felt nervousness bubble up into his core, he'd come here to talk to Khan, but he'd entirely forgotten that there were more people who were actually in the WDF, which made sense… now that he thought about it.

The door opened to reveal dull blue eyelights, permanent stress lines below them, speaking of battery acid, he smelled like it, it radiated off him like a particularly strong colone.

His eyes went hollow for a moment, having to look up despite the fact he was fairly tall for a worker drone, but still N eclipsed him entirely, N's tail wagged idly as he tried to make himself slightly smaller, trying to be non-threatening with a brilliant, sunny smile on his face.

“Hello!” He waved, both hands held in front of him to show he wasn't going to attack unexpectedly, his head tilted to the side.

The worker in front of him went from startled, to visibly annoyed.

“What do you wan’” His accent was comicly southern, bordering on unintelligible, N blinked for a moment, running the gruff voice through his processors another time before he really understood it.

“Uh- I wanted to talk to Khan, is he here, Mr….?” The need to be polite had been programmed (and beaten) into him, regardless of how hard to understand the drone in front of him was.

“Baylef, Yeah ‘es here, why you askin’ for him?” The older drone squinted at the taller one, N did his best to not let it get to him.

“I wanted to see if he would let me get a job here! I've been living here awhile, and it feels kinda bad to not give anything back.”

“Yer a Murder Drone.” The drone said back dryly, as if he wasn't just pointing out a fact.

“Ah- Disassembly Drone, please. But y-yes.”

“The WDF was founded to keep th’ colony safe from you lot, and you wan’ a job here?”

Well, he should have expected something like this to be honest, it wasn't like those many years spent killing every single worker drone on sight just didn't happen.

“Uhm… Yes?”

The drone just about shut the door in his face, but another voice called put from further in the office. A very familiar, fatherly one.

“Dale, who's at the door? They sound familiar.”

“Err.” The drone stopped mid-shut, looking like he'd just been caught trying to steal cookies from the top shelf.

“It's me Mr. Doorman!” N called into the room, hoping it was loud enough for Khan to here.

“N!”

Dale, the drone that had not-so-politlely nearly told him to fuck off, opened the door all the way before Khan came into view, a smile on his face as he held a clipboard in his hand.

“What are you doing here? Is my daughter hurt? Oh! Is Tera-” Khan was already working himself up, but N stopped him with a friendly laugh.

“Uzi's fine Mr.Doorman, and if my daughter wasn't, I'm sure the whole bunker would know!”

“Daughter?” Dale grumbled out confusedly, looking surprised.

“Yes! Dale you remember me talking about my granddaughter? This is N, my daughter's fiancé.”

N blushed heavily, finding some of the words in his throat dying there before he could say them.

“Boyfriend… we're… not, I haven't uh-” He tried to quickly clarify, but Khan wasn't having it.

“Bah, you love her, she loves you, if it hasn't happened yet it will soon and I'll be ahead of the curve!”

“You can't- uh, you can't just tell people we're engaged though! That's not true!” Even if he agreed with the words coming out of Khans mouth, and he did, he did want that… eventually. But he hadn't thought about it in any degree of seriousness aside from how Uzi would look in a wedding dress.

Which was incredible, but he didn't think either of them were ready for that… yet.

Khan just shrugged, N was left embarrassed, Dale, standing back a few feet from the two, looked like someone just dunked him in a bath of coolant.

“Why are you here then?” Khan carried on the conversation like it was nothing, so N had to gulp down whatever emotion he was feeling to continue as well.

“I uh, wanted to ask for a job.” He repeated what he'd told Dale, only now more sheepishly.

“You? Want a job? Here?” Khan repeated slowly, eyes slowly growing hollow as he turned back around to face N.

“Yeah?”

“Oh! Absolutely! This is great news! I'm gonna teach you so much about doors!”

Oh… great…

Next ->

[path-of-blue-eyes]

yuugi seems a little distracted, almost mesmerized. his eyes are locked onto seto’s hands as he types at his computer—like he always seems to be doing—but this time, yuugi simply can’t look away, despite there being nothing different about this particular scenario.

well. almost nothing. they are sort of boyfriends now.

“you have such beautiful hands,” he finally says, attention fully shifted away from whatever he’d been working on. if he doesn’t say it now, he’ll be thinking about it all day. “like, nail polish model hands. which, maybe you’ve never seen, but trust me, they’re gorgeous.”

he’s a little jealous, actually. seto’s long, elegant fingers and wide palms are to die for, not to mention his perfect nail beds are always neatly kept.

then, the wires in yuugi’s brain spark. “ooh—you should let me paint your nails sometime!!” he pipes up, almost vibrating in his chair. “they’d look so pretty. and you don’t have to do black, like i always do—i know you like blue, or maybe silver. orrrr we could match and do the color of each other’s eyes!!” very pointedly, he omits that he saw a couple on the internet do that, once. “you still like purple, right??”

Blue eyes were focused as he was coding a software update for his duel disks, glancing over now and then to Yugi's pretty face as he simply can't help but admire and feel a disbelief they were actually dating now. It's weird to think of in his mind, he never thought he'd find himself dating or much less the one he's been obsessed with since high school.

"You think so? I didn't think hands could be beautiful." He stops typing, finishing a line of code as to not break the scripting if he forgot a line, looking down to his thin hands. Admittedly, he raises an eyebrow to think about what a model hand actually looks like.

"I've never had my nails painted before, I'm curious what it'd look like." He's not opposed to it as one would think, even Seto has some style to him when he's asked about it. Besides, it makes him give a rare little smirk to see how happy Yugi is in his chair just talking about it. "Blue is still my favorite, but I still like purple. Why wouldn't I? It's your eyes." He didn't mean to be smooth, but sometimes his blunt nature ends up being that way.

[devilsupdates]

Update Time

Defensemen Simon Nemec and Daniil misyul are out tonight for the Devils against Red Wings

Jacob Markstrom leads the Devils onto the ice for warmups in Detroit. He's your starter tonight against the Red Wings. Jake Allen is backup

Here is tonight's lineup

Meier - hischier - Mercer

Palat - Hughes - Bratt

Cotter - haula - Noesen

Tatar - lazar - bastian

Dillion - Hamilton

Siegenthaler - kovacevic

Hughes - Pesce

Markstrom

Allen

Luke Hughes and Pesce are in, Nemec and misyul are out. Everything else stays the same.

My best guess in we will see Luke Hughes on PP2 tonight. Seamus Casey first held the spot, then Simon Nemec. Luke seems the obvious choice while keeping PP1 together

The Devils powerplay has been pretty solid ( 25% - 10th in NHL) and feels like they're still working out some kinks. With Dougie on PP1 and Hughes on PP2 wonder if they'll go on another great run like early last season

Starters

Meier- Hischier - Mercer

Siegenthaler - kovacevic

Markstrom

Puck drop in Detroit

Period 1

Timo just fell awkwardly on the ice and took a second to get up. He skated gingerly back to the bench but is being looked at by a trainer. Weird play, didn't see anything really happen there. Staying on bench for now

First shift for lake Hughes and Brett Pesce this season

Meier seems okay, taking his next shift

Talbot has had to be real sharp early on. Devils with a good start here

So far. The Devils have had much better breakouts. Which is allowing them to play far more in the offensive zone. They are getting them to the perimeters.

Devils going to get the first power play of the game. A penalty drawn by a board battle by Paul cotter. Markstrom to the bench

Seider will go to the box for the Red Wings and Devils deploy PP1 to start

1-0 Devils! Nico goal!

Jesper Bratt with the lone assist on the Devils power play goal by Nico Hischier. That's his 9th point in his 10th game of the year

Devils have scored first in each of their last six games. Major difference from last season su far

Luke can thank Markstrom for bailing him out after that turnover. The sophomore is shaking off the rust

Pesce hits the ice for his first shift on the penalty kill.

Tie game. Detroit ties it 1-1

2-1 Red Wings

DeBrincat wires one from far out on Markstrom

This is really unfortunate. Turnof events. The Devils have been playing such a strong first period

End of one.

Devils trail the red wings 2-1

Hischier (Bratt)

Fischer ( copp )

DeBrincat

Shots: 18 -8 NJ

Notes after first period:

To make matters worse, the Devils were called for too many men as the period expired. Now they'll have to start the second period with A two minutes pk against a lethal Red Wings PP

Period 2

Puck drops

Brenden Dillon nearly scores off a shorthanded rush. Dawson Mercer with a nice feed there. He had no angle to shoot at Dillon did.

Tartar out of the box

Jack tried the goal line goal. Save, Talbot

Paul cotter just caught an elbow right to the face. He goes down on the ice and a training heads out to help. Quite a bit of blood on the ice.

Paul cotter to the locker room for repairs. Lots of blood

Devils power play!

Nico wires the puck Off the cross bar

Cotter back on the bench

Tie game! Erik haula in this 700 Th NHL game

Kane off for roughing

Another Devils power play coming up they're 2 for 2 so far tonight

Luke Hughes earns his first assist of the season on the Erik haula power play goal. Goal reads haula from Meier and Luke Hughes.

Brett Pesce just played a Red Wings 3- on - 1 with so much confidence and calmness. Read the play perfectly and cut off the cross ice pass

Nico Hischier (7) and Dougie Hamilton ( 5) have combined for 12 of the Devils 30 shots on net

Red Wings have 16 shots

It would be in the Devils best interest to slow this game down

End of two.

Were all evened up at twos.

1. Hischier (Bratt )

1. Fischer (copp )

1. DeBrincat

2. Haula ( Meier. L. Hughes )

Shots: 31 -16 NJ

Period 3

Puck drops

The Devils will need to shutdown Detroit's top line to have the best chance at a victory

The Devils need to find A way to beat Talbot

Brenden Dillon is hit hard into the boards. He stays there for a minute before bouncing up and dropping the gloves with Christian Fischer who had just laid him into the boards

Both will go to the penalty box. But we will see if there's any other call on the play. Nico is waiting patiently by the refs. All that while Fischer and Dillon are yelling at each other

Should've been boarding, dangerous hit from Fischer on Dillon but no call

Red Wings 3-2 Devils trail by 1

Devils have every right to be irate there. After the goal Keefe continued to berate the officiating crew

Devils Power play coming up. Big moment here.

Once again Nico doing everything.

Kovacovic joins Dillon and Meier in there sin bin

Nico scores! 3.3

Dawson takes a penalty with 3:54 to play

Red Wings 4-3 Devils behind by one

Cotter draws a penalty Devils to powerplay

2:37 to go score is 3-4 Red Wings

Final score 5-3 redwings

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | SEVEN

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,000

warnings: fluff. angst. language. not even sure why i warn for angst anymore this whole story is just angsty af

18+!!! minors stay away!

In the following few weeks, you realized two things. One: Peter Parker was definitely not subtle. The other being that you were definitely in way over your head. There was no denying the stupid butterflies in your stomach anymore, or the way you found yourself expecting his touch before it even came.

It seemed as though the two of you were like magnets; a constant tug gravitating the pair of you back to each other with an unstoppable force. If you weren't together, he was on your mind, and like he could sense you thinking of him he'd be quick to reach out in some way or another. Be it appearing at your side, all happy grins and playful eyes, or calling your phone no matter the time with his stupidly adorable stutter--Peter seemed to think of you just as much as you thought of him.

The more that you thought of him, the more that you wished you didn't. It was terrifying. You wished that you could pull away again, to push him back out of your heart and lock those iron bars tight once more, but your heart had grown selfish and stubborn. It was as if you were the one locked out anymore; the control over your feelings slipping further and further from your clutches with every toothy smile Peter sent your way.

Like a magnet, he held you in place. Oh, to be held by... You slapped a pillow over your face and screamed, holding it so tightly that your nose ached and you couldn't breath. Peter Parker was like a disease. A stupid, all-consuming, utterly infatuating disease of the mind and the spirit.

You knew that you were wasting time, undoubtedly causing yourself to risk being late for school with every minute that passed as you continued to lay in your bed, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up. Already, your mother and father both had knocked at your door on multiple occasions and questioned if you were sick, and now you were regretting saying no. It would have been so easy to avoid him if you'd just played hookie.

But, with midterms in the near future, you knew it wasn't the best idea. The realization had come to you in the night. A moment so insignificant, so mundane, but it had been as if a switch were flipped in your mind. A light was turned on, so to speak, and illuminated all the thoughts and emotions you'd been so tirelessly repressing.

Talking on the phone with Peter was like a drug, and talking on the phone to him at night was a dangerous game. Under the dull light of a crescent moon and the ridiculous teddy-bear night light that was plugged into your wall, a lingering remnant of your sister's presence in the space, your inhibitions were always low. With sleepiness your walls were always lowered, and he'd unknowingly put a fatal crack in the foundation.

You rolled onto your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet through the air like a little kid as you fought back the grin that always seemed to worm its way across your lips when you were talking to him. "So, how do you like Ned and MJ?" Peter asked, and you could almost picture him mirroring your position as you heard the quiet rustle of blankets over the line. A little giggle bubbled out of your mouth at the thought.

What a sight that would be, Peter kicking his legs to and fro like a school girl in love. "They're cool. I kinda like that MJ doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that she thinks I'm weird. I don't--I don't know, it's refreshing I guess. Ned's sweet." you rambled, and it was the truth.

Ned and MJ were easily slipping into the fortress that shielded your heart with every passing day. Somehow, it wasn't as terrifying as you'd expected it to be. Perhaps that was because they didn't harbor a secret identity with which they risked their lives every single night, or maybe it was just because you'd come to realize that letting people in wasn't so bad. Not everyone was going to die on you.

Michelle Jones really didn't pretend not to think you were weird, not even a little bit. Her blunt and honest nature was a nice change from the quiet stares that seemed to follow your every move; MJ wasn't much for staring. Rather, she boldly told you what she was thinking without any shred of doubt.

And Ned, sweet Ned Leeds, was like a puppy personified. Always happy, always smiling, and always waiting to offer you compliments when you approached. You couldn't remember the last time someone had dared compliment your hair, your smile, or your outfits. Ned made it impossible to feel anything but comfort and joy in his presence, even his awkward nature was endearing.

"I'm glad." Peter hummed, "They really like you. To be honest, though, I kinda like it when it's just us. Maybe I should have waited a little longer to share you."

There was a pang in your chest at his words. Peter had been subtly flirting with you for days now, but this was more direct. He didn't have to come right out and say it for his implications to come across loud and clear, and that magnetic pull grew stronger.

So strong, in fact, that you murmured back, "I like it when it's just us, too."

If you had just kept your mouth shut, maybe he wouldn't have been so bold as to say, "Not gonna let them steal your heart from me, are you?"

The words were right at the tip of your tongue. Your heart was screaming, never! Nobody could ever steal me away from you, Peter! Yet, your mind was racing with a million and one horrible thoughts that made you feel as though your mouth was full of mud.

The silence between yourself and Peter grew thick as it drew on, no words escaping your lead-like lips. The voice in your brain, the one that sounded like your sister yet you knew was not her, was ringing in your ears. How could you ever fall in love, when she never could? How could you give your heart away, when she never had the chance?

You took that chance away from her. You stole it. This thing, whatever the weird force between the two of you was, was all stolen time, stolen opportunities, and stolen lives.

"Good night, (Y/N). I'll see you at school?"

You whispered, "Yes." The line went dead, and you felt cold.

Those simple words from Peter, with meaning and intention that was far from simple, were all it took to send the walls, bars, and barbed wire around your heart crumbling into nothing. With no protection, no barrier between yourself and the dangers of everyone else, your mind was working on overdrive. It would have been so easy to let him in, had that voice remained quiet, and yet you were steadily building those bricks back into place.

Now, all that was left to do was to steal your heart back. When had he managed to take it from you? Had he snuck in during the night, slipping through the strategically placed cracks and weak points he'd created, and stole away with it undetected? Had he taken it that first night, without you ever noticing?

As you finally released the pressure over the pillow on your face, sucking in a shaky breathe and letting all the heavy things crash over you again, tears burned your eyes. You didn't want to push Peter away. You didn't want to be the reason he was hurt, upset, or angry--you weren't ready to be the villain in his story.

"Mom?" you called out, knowing she was lingering close by.

Proving you correct, the door to your bedroom cracked open only seconds later and your mother's worried eyes fell upon your blinking ones. She definitely saw the troubled look on your face, the tears in your eyes, yet she held back from mentioning any of it as she asked, "Are you sick, honey?"

You nodded, the lump in your throat aiding your act as you croaked, "Yes. I don't feel good."

She frowned a little, knowing that you were bending the truth of the matter. Your mother was perceptive, and with the emotion all over your face, it easy for her to know that this wasn't some stomach bug or sore throat. To your relief, though, she resigned, "I'll call you out of school for the day. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Tomorrow, you could be the villain. For today, though, you were content to avoid your troubles and wallow in your self pity. At least this way you had some time to slip back into your stoic, cold demeanor before you had to face him. Time to prepare yourself to be alone again, because you knew that once you pushed Peter Parker away, Ned and MJ would be quick to follow him.

Sleep didn't come for you like you hoped it would. Well, it did, but then you found yourself dreaming of Peter and woke with a start. School had started an hour ago, and already there were a flurry of confused and increasingly alarmed messages from him lighting up your phone screen. Even though you couldn't hold back from reading them, you locked it before you found yourself replying as if on autopilot.

Pete: are you late

Pete: i'm at your locker

Pete: hello?

Pete: i'm going to class... see you there?

Pete: are you okay? you said you'd be here

Pete: at least let me know you're aldkhdkfj

You spent the day in your room, ignoring Peter and ignoring the world. Occasionally your mother would crack open your door to check on you, fussing over feeling your forehead despite the fact that you both knew you didn't have a fever, and tittering little comments about getting rest and staying hydrated. She knew you weren't sick, yet you were grateful she didn't try to pry.

As much as you wanted to tell her all of the things that were on your mind, the reasons that you were upset, you couldn't. You couldn't tell her all of the awful things you were thinking, and see the way her face would contort in anguish over you. You certainly couldn't listen to her telling you that it wasn't your fault, you weren't wrong for liking a boy, and your sister would want you to be happy. Even if you knew, in some deep part of your brain, that it was true.

Pete: got my phone taken in calculus sorry

Pete: I'm at lunch now, are you okay?

Pete: are you sick?

Pete: like... actually sick?

Peter really was relentless. You wondered how long it would take for him to catch onto what you were doing, or if he would at all. Would he understand why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder? Would he understand, and be okay when you pushed him away again?

Pete: I'm in speech now.

Pete: we got the class to work on the speech and you're not here

Pete: not that we could do much anyways since you're so stubborn but still

Pete: okay what is going on

Pete: (Y/N)

Pete: please talk to me

Reading all of his messages kept the ache in your chest alive, stopping the numbness from creeping back in. You wished you could put your phone down, turn it off even, but it was like a cruel an addicting game to read each message as it arrived. You found yourself watching the little three dots as he typed another message eagerly, even if he was far from happy.

When school ended, he called. You let it ring each time, watching his name scroll across your screen over and over again until it ended. Once, twice, three times--he finally stopped calling, not leaving a voicemail.

For awhile, you wondered if that was it. Was he done? Had he caught on? Had he figured you out just as easily as he always seemed to do? Had Peter given up?

Pete: i know what you're doing

Pete: i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable

Pete: we can just be friends if that's what you want

It wasn't what you wanted, and that was the problem. You didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. Well, you didn't want to just be friends with him. You wanted to know what his touch felt like when it was deliberate and welcoming, not the fleeting and curious brushes of his skin on yours. To be held by him, to taste his lips, to hold his heart in your hands like he already held yours--you wanted so much more than friendship with Peter, and that made you a thief and a fraud.

You: that's not what i want

You were weak. A weak, cowardly idiot is what you were, and you threw your phone on your bed with a groan as you realized what you'd done. The voice in your mind whispered insults, taunting you for being so easily broken.

Pete: what do you mean

You: i don't want to be friends with you Peter

Pete: oh

One simple word, and you realized he had taken that in a completely different way than you had meant it. Yet, you didn't correct him. You didn't explain that you meant you didn't want to just be friends. Maybe this was your chance--an easy way to kick him outside your walls without having to see it firsthand.

The chance didn't last long. A quiet knock sounded on your window, and your heart froze in your chest as you tried to sink deeper into your bed. It was the wind, you told yourself, until the knock sounded again and slightly louder. You could see the shadow on your floor out of the corner of your eye, and you buried your face into your pillow to block it out. If you ignored him, he would go away, and this would all be over.

After a few more knocks, it was silent for awhile, and you tempted a look at the floor only to frown at the sight of the shadow missing. He was gone, and you were alone again. Your lip quivered at the thought; what had you done? It was a mistake. This was a mistake.

You didn't want to push him away. You wanted him to hold your heart. You wanted Peter Parker as your friend, as more than a friend, hell, as anything as long as it was with you. But now? Going back on your word and dragging him back in again would be pathetic. He didn't deserve such treatment, especially not from you.

So, you pulled your pillow back over your face and let the tears fall. Your hot breath burned your eyes and made you feel sticky and gross, but you didn't care one bit. It felt cathartic to cry, like returning to a familiar place you'd been skirting around for ages. Crying over Peter was different than crying over your sister; the hurt was different, but one thing was the same: both were all your fault.

"Go away, mom." you whined, barely hearing the sound of your door unlatching over your muffled sniffles. It creaked further open, and you groaned, pressing the pillow harder onto your face, "Mom, please, I just want to be alone."

A throat cleared, and you froze. That wasn't your mother, the voice was deeper. The sound was still too light to be your father's, though, and that left one option that made your blood run cold. He didn't--did he?

He did. Peter pried the pillow out of your hands, all red cheeks and sad eyes as he stared at you in a sullen silence. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered, "Why are you pushing me away?"

You blinked at him, too paralyzed by the sight of his fluttering eyelids and pouting lips to speak. It must have been a sight to see you like that, your face red and blotchy, streaked with tears and snot that you'd been too lazy to wipe away. He didn't look away from your eyes, though, gazing into them with an intensity that dared you to look away.

Sensing that you weren't going to speak, he pressed on, "(Y/N), what is going on? I don't--It's okay if you don't like me back, I can deal with that. I want to be your friend, though. I thought you wanted to be mine, too."

Voice scratchy, you muttered, "I don't."

Something changed in him, and suddenly Peter was raking a hand through his hair as he frowned deeply. You wanted to smooth the crease between his brows, but you felt frozen. He was angry; he was angry with you, and he didn't hold back as he snapped, "That's bullshit, and you know it. If you didn't want to be friends, then why did you make that deal? Why did you let me make a complete fool of myself just to get your attention? Why did you let me introduce you to my friends? Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not!" you yelped, sitting up frantically and wiping at your face, finally. "I'm not lying, Pete!"

He threw his head back at the nickname, a sigh of exasperation forcing its way from his lips, nostrils flared. "I don't get you, (Y/N). I don't get you at all." he growled, facing you again with a heavy brow.

You gripped your blankets tightly, bunching them around your waist as you blinked at him with wide eyes. "I don't want to just be your friend, Peter!" you burst, "I don't want to just be your friend, and I don't know why. You make me feel all these things that terrify me, but I keep chasing after you and whatever those things are! It was so easy being alone, okay? Then suddenly you came swinging into my life and made everything so--so complicated!"

Your mother's face peered into your room, eyes blown wide in surprise, but the moment you glanced at her she backed away with a bitten smile and you flushed. You didn't get the chance to dwell on the fact that she'd been eavesdropping, though, because Peter sat on the edge of your bed and bit the inside of his cheek, blinking at you with teasing eyes.

"So, you like me?"

Eyes narrowed, you grumbled, "Are you really going to make me say it, Pete? After all of that?"

A sly grin stretched across his lips, cheeks puffing out adorably and making you bite your own to keep from grinning too. He tutted, raising his ruffled brow as he jabbed, "After everything else today? I think it's the least you could do."

You were screwed. His fingertips barely caressed the backs of your knuckles, and you shakily grabbed them before he pulled away again. "I like you, jerk." you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut as you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

Peter just chuckled, squeezing your hand as you felt your bed shift under his weight. "I don't want to just be your friend, either." his breathe fanned over your cheek, and your eyes snapped open to find his face closer than ever. If you just turned, ever so slightly, his lips would brush your own... He kissed your cheek softly, backing away with a tiny smile that you matched. "I like you a lot. Probably more than like, really."

"That scares me." you whispered, eyes still latched onto his, "Peter, you scare me."

He took a long moment to answer, weighing heavily the words he would utter next, before finally telling you, "You scare me, too, but I think it's worth it."

A gentle tapping at your door crashed through the moment, both of your faces burning a deep red as you turned to face your mother's sheepish smile. "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me--"

"Mom!" you wailed, slapping your hands over your face in mortification as she stealthily slipped into your room and dropped a box of condoms onto your dresser before racing away again. "Oh, I can't believe she--Mom! Did you really have to do that?"

Peter was laughing boisterously, head thrown back and eyes shut, though you could tell he was flustered too from the cherry red color that creeped down from his face and under his shirt. As humiliated as you were by your mother's actions, you couldn't help but to feel a little grateful for the interruption. The intensity, the tension in the air, had disappeared with the intrusion, and things felt a little bit lighter again.

You flopped back onto your bed, still pouting over the spectacle, as Peter breathed out, "That's so something Aunt May would have done, too."

At least you weren't alone in the embarrassing family department, you thought to yourself as Peter threw himself down beside you. She meant well, obviously, but did she really think that you and Peter were going to go from admitting you liked each other to ripping each other's clothes off in one night? Well, you were eighteen--maybe she had a bit of a reason to be so hasty.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Peter questioned, and you turned your head to face him, trying to ignore the close proximity of his face to your own. "Liking me?"

You chewed at your lip, listening for that voice in your head that had suddenly gone silent. "Yeah, yeah I do." you responded, and his face split in a blushing smile. You did think it was worth it, because being with him reminded you of all the good feelings you missed out on when he wasn't around. "I just wish we could have been like this before. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm stealing her life."

He grew serious in an instant, eyebrows furrowing as he stated, "I don't." At the sight of your confusion, he continued, "I don't wish we met before. Can you honestly say that you're the same person you were before?"

"No."

He nodded, "Exactly. Stuff like that... It changes you. I would know, remember? You wouldn't be the you that I like, and if Uncle Ben were here maybe I wouldn't be who you like, either."

You had to admit, he had a point. "I guess so." you pondered aloud.

"You're not stealing her life, either, (Y/N). She would have wanted you to be happy, to do all the things she never got to. It took me a long time to stop thinking that way, too, but I did. It wasn't your fault, and you can't miss out on stuff just because of her." Peter advised, and you swallowed down the lump that was growing steadily in your throat, "She didn't give up her life for you to stop living yours."

Fuck, Peter really knew exactly what to say. You, however, were at a loss for words. He said all of the things that you'd needed to hear for so long, so perfectly, and it rocked you to your core. How did he know just what you needed to hear? The answer was simple--because he knew you, and he knew how you were feeling. He knew, because he had lived it.

Changing the subject, you asked, "So, what do we do now?"

You didn't have to explain for him to understand, and he swallowed thickly, "Do you... will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah. That might be worth it."

He scoffed, "Might be? Forget it, I don't want you to be my--"

"I want to be your girlfriend, Pete!" you cut him off, laughing loudly. "I really, really want to." So, maybe you lied when you said that Peter made things complicated. In fact, Peter made things incredibly easy--and that made it worth it.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony @cherthegoddess @justsomebodyweird

[andallthatmishigas]

pls may i ask two for the fanfic ask? bc i am still stuck on them ♡♡♡

walking the wire & a new genesis ♡♡♡

(you have no idea how much your writing helps me through things and i feel weird leaving a comment every time but maybe i should start so you know)

Oh my goodness bless you. I love these questions, and I love those stories so so so so much. And you can comment 10000 times and I'll love it 10000+ times. Because I genuinely do go back and reread reviews all the time. It makes me so happy!

Anyway onto this. Walking the Wire and A New Genesis for each question:

2. What scene did you first put down?

WtW: I had the first scene written for a long time before I actually wrote anything more or even thought of any plot beyond that one moment. The idea of Lucien asking Jean out on a date and being all nervous about it and adorable. I had that saved in my notes and then the more I listened to the Imagine Dragons song (of the same name as the story), it sort of came together in my head.

ANG: First chapter. I had the plot and concept in my mind for a while and then sat down and just wrote that first chapter in one go while at my parents' house for some reason. In case it wasn't obvious, I am the kind of writer who starts at the beginning and goes from there. I can't skip around. I'm way too Type A for it lol.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

WtW:

Lucien continued, "And now, being here together, I can't help thinking that us being together, hopefully marrying one day soon…I know it won't be an easy road, Jean. For you much moreso than for me. But I just hope that if we can cling to each other, we can stay up here always. Holding each other and walk the wire together. There's no limit to how high we can go. And if anyone else has a problem with it, well…"

"Look out down below," she interjected softly.

ANG:

Lucien paused right in front of the altar table, placed his hands down flat on it, and leaned forward. Jean could not see is face, but from the tone of his voice she could hear him sneer, "What did I ever do to You? How did I offend You so brutally that You subject me to this? I was arrogant, I was oblivious, sometimes uncaring. I know that. I won't deny it. I've lived a far from perfect life. But wasn't the camp punishment enough? Wasn't losing my family in front of my eyes enough penance for my sins?" He pushed off the table and started shouting. "I have served you faithfully! I have led your flocks! Why have You tempted me with love and happiness that You have forbidden me to possess? Is it a test? Well, surely I've failed. Surely I would fail any test because of her."

11. What do you like best about this fic?

WtW: The first half, I think, is really good. It falters a bit towards the end. But I love the exploration I got to do with Jean's judgmental attitude towards Lucien and divorce and her lust and herself and how she overcomes all of that. I think that struggle is the thing I like best. I've got to reread this one soon.

ANG: This story combines one of my favorite things which is sexualizing and blaspheming the Catholic Church. Protestants? Nothing sexy there. Catholics? That's my shit. And I just get such a thrill over blasphemy tbh. Nice Jewish girl vibes, thank you very much. (The scene where Lucien fucks Jean on the altar in the church is what I was entirely building up for the whole entire story and I'm super proud of it.)

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

WtW: So I was making playlists for each of my major stories for a little while, but I didn't start doing that until after I'd finished each of these two stories, BUT this story is 100% inspired by THIS SONG which I was just captivated by and needed to write something for it.

ANG: This was tough for me to answer. I don't think I have a specific song or artist or vibe for this one. I looked through my other story playlists for some Blake fics (Forever in Your Arms, Ivy) and the closest I could really think of to apply to this story was THIS SONG which is less blasphemy, my favorite theme of the story, and more the sort of obsessive sacrifice that Lucien goes through so I suppose it works.

[justanothr]

Tom Holland/Peter Parker fanfic

part 2:

So, quick recap. After years of stanning, you finally get a chance to meet Tom Holland but you accidentally meet Peter Parker instead. Is this fate? The beginnings of a grand adventure? Or just a huge mistake?

Part 1:

https://justanotherfangirlpassingthrough.tumblr.com/post/173871503403/are-yall-ready-for-some-juicy-tom-hollandpeter

––––––––––––––

Alternate dimensions.

Didn't know about their existance until like 10 minutes ago. So it's not the most convenient thing to be stuck in one.

Peter and I (me, clinging on to him for dear life) had just swung into an open window. The room inside was dark. Peter switched on the lights, "welcome to my room!" He said with his arms spread wide. It didn't exactly look like it did in the movies; a majority of the space was taken up by his computers. There were three of them spread out across two tables. Wires tangled everywhere, also bits of hardware- some micro chips, magnets and a solder gun were scattered across the tables.

Peter tried as best as he could to fill me in on the way there about how he was wandering about New York, trying to find portals to close and how it led him to the building that I was in. My brain was swirling with the things he'd told me.

"So what I understand is, I walked through a doorway into a world different from mine and you pulled me right in before closing the doorway for good measure." I said while massaging my waist where I had been held by Peter. My whole body felt sore now, and being in such close proximity to this boy who so resembled Tom ( and not to mention, had actual super powers. I am still coming to terms with that fact.) didn't help my heart rate. I walked around in a small circle to try and calm my nerves.

"No, like I said, I closed the portal a full two minutes before you entered the room, or so I thought. When you walked in, all I was thinking of was that it was dangerous for civilians to be in such an unstable building. I didn't even consider the possibility that the portal was still open and you could be extra dimensional."

Extra dimensional. Now that was a label I would never get used to.

Peter sat down at his table and pulled out his mask, a bunch of his hair fell adorably onto his face. "These 'gates' are invisible to the human eye. The only way to detect them is through the gravitational anomalies around the area, with devices like these, he tapped the console type thing that he kept on his belt. You can imagine the fear and confusion among the public when people just disappeared into thin air without a warning. To make matters worse, the only person who knew anything about undoing this whole mess..." Peter shook his head as if to shake away a terrible thought. "Anyway, It took me three days to find a way to close these nasty portals the Shuma army left behind."

he paused, looking up at me with an apologetic smile "I don't know if any of that made sense to you. Here-" he darted to the bed and picked up all the clothes on it with one swoop and shoved them into his closet. "Make yourself comfortable."

I sat down. "No, it makes sense, more or less" I frowned as I tried to concentrate "You found a way to close portals that open up to whole other worlds in three days. To me, that sounds like you have ridiculous levels of genius. Yet you don't seem too happy with yourself."

I now saw the earnest, kind hearted boy from the comics standing in front of me and strangely, it brought back some childhood memories. As a little girl, I had a rather strong connection with the character of Peter Parker whom I'd familiarised with through reading too many comic books. Older me thought that it was all pretty silly and would sometimes laugh at my younger self for getting so attached.

Peter sighed, and years were added to his boyish face. "People call me a hero sometimes, and it's maddening because all I see are the things I could have done better. The lives I could have saved. I know I have the power to be more." He returned to the table and took the little device that he kept on his belt and started examining it with a mighty frown.

I realised with a chill in my bones that I knew what, or rather who he must be thinking about. I just wanted to see a smile on this pure boy's face now.

"Wow, I can't believe you're giving me the classic 'Great power, great responsibility' line already" I grinned. (I should have known that trying to be meta with Peter would be a fail since he didn't have any context whatsoever. Poor attempt. 0/10)

"Huh, I didn't know it was a classic" Peter mumbled as he dismantled the device and removed a small chip out of it. He inserted the chip to a slot on his computer and then began typing feverishly into a prompt on the screen.

"Iconic, if you ask me!"

"You say some weird things, Miss What." He paused. "So just to be clear, there are no Super Heroes where you're from?"

"No Super Heroes. To be fair, there aren't any super creepy monsters either." I left the part about us making comics and movies about the lives of Peter and his friends purely for our amusement out of the conversation for the moment. I wanted to get as much information out of Peter before confusing the shit out of him.

"No monsters that you know of, you mean."

I considered this for a second. Remembering just then that my phone was in the front pocket of my jeans, I took it out.

"Peter?"

"hmm?"

"I'm guessing that the reason I am in your bedroom, and not back in my own world is because you've only figured how to close a portal, not how to open one."

He stopped typing, but didn't reply.

"So basically... I am stuck here." I could feel my stomach sink as I admitted this.

Peter got up and stretched. "You know, I'm surprised at how well you're taking all this. Thought there would be more... Panicking." He waved his hands at the last word.

"Well, do you want me to panic? I am screaming on the inside already. It would be easy."

He let out a little laugh, looking right at me as he did. His eyes, I noticed were dead serious.

"It is my fault that you are stuck here Miss What. But I do not want you to worry because I have a plan. And you can trust my plans, they have a way of working."

"I'm not worried, Peter. " This was surprisingly true. "And my name is Mary Jane."

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

Stay tuned for part 3, guys! It’s about to get stranger, if you know what i mean! 

Part 1:

https://justanotherfangirlpassingthrough.tumblr.com/post/173871503403/are-yall-ready-for-some-juicy-tom-hollandpeter

[virgilssweaterpaws-blog]

Christmas Collection of Sander Side Stories

@coffeestudylive

@beholdagay

@jordandobbertin

@multi-fandom-mess-helpme

These are in alphabetical order. They're all written from the prompt located above the story. And the only warning I have is in Logince - alcohol.

Analogical:

Patton had trusted Virgil with lights this year. He was off sorting everything else and trusted Virgil with this one task. What a mistake to make. He liked a lot of the lightening and wanted to see how much he could get away with. One click and boom. The power had gone out. Everything was in complete darkness.

"Anddddd the powers out." Virgil mumbled as he listened to Logan rummage around for a flashlight. "So what do we do until the power comes back on, teach?" Logan sat down next to him.

"The flashlight makes me think of storytelling around a campfire. How about we tell stories?" He suggested and Virgil shrugged in response. "Did I ever tell you about the constellations I saw the other day?" Virgil sighed. He may have to wait for a while but he was happy to.

Lamp:

"Hey Virge. Come here a second." Roman said, trying to come across calmly. So reluctantly he walked over. Yet it amused him more than he thought it would. "Don't laugh... I need help Virge..." he cried.

"Ok fine." He put his hands in the air and walked over. Better not to annoy the man tangled in wires.

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

"Patton... we need you..." was the line that caused three grown men to become tangled into wires. If they weren't all in a relationship than it would of been far too awkward.

But even Logan, logic himself couldn't prevent further tangling. It was the night four grown men ended up becoming a lot closer physically and relationship wise. But what happened in the tangled mess will stay a mystery.

Logicality:

Patton was ill. He missed not being able to bake the most. He had everyone else running around after him, taking care of everything for him.

But one day he was stunned. "You're covered in flour..." he giggled. Walking into the kitchen. "I... I wanted to help try to make you feel better..." Logan admitted. Putting a tray into the oven.

"Thank you Logan... It does make me feel better." He hugged him, not letting go for a while.

"You know... I'd be happy to teach you how to bake. It's actually easy once you do all the measurements!" The word measurements had Logan sold. Numbers made him feel a lot better and he had never considered that to go hand in hand with baking. "I'd like that." He replied. He'd also get to spend more time with Patton. His smile could light up the world...

Logince:

A Christmas drinking game. Yet two of the sander sides were lightweights. One refused to drink and Roman, it was practically like babysitting for poor Logan who got stuck with him. At least he could follow the trail of 'WooOOOoooo"s Roman created wherever in the house he went.

In front of the washing machine he sat there cross legged going "Ooooohhhhh bubbles!!" And clapping his hands. Now he understood what Roman meant by drinking ruined how people viewed him. He'd never seen such a relaxed, cheery side of Roman that didn't care what he did or who with.

"Bedtime Ro." Logan said sending him upstairs. He made him a hot chocolate then followed him upstairs.

"Yeah, uh, alcohol doesn't go in hot chocolate..." Logan mumbled as Roman tipped his flask into it. "Shhh" he put a finger on Logans lips before mumbling, "I love you but shhhhh..."

Moxiety:

Roman had time for a snow fight before he went out one day. And this meant Virgil was with him. You could hear them. Giggling and screeching like little children.

It was adorable for Patton to watch. But when Roman left Virgils smile wavered for a second. So he went out to him. "Kiddo. Do you want to build a snowman with me?" He smiled. "Yeah. Sure." So they began to build. "But Virge, don't stay out in the snow all day... you'll catch a cold."

Virgil regretted those words looking back. He built four snowmen. One with Patton. The other three built as everyone else in snow form as a gift to Patton.

But Patton adored him even more for it. He gave him hugs and cookies while he was stuck stationery between so many pillows and blankets it was impossible to move.

Prinxiety:

"Princey, sweetie, um.... why is the bottom of the tree decorated... and like not the top...?" Roman looked defeated. "You can't reach?" Virgil assumed correctly. "Wait there..."

Virgil went on a hunt for a set of steps. But it was to no avail. "Get on the sofa and jump onto my back. I'll give you a piggy back to do the top of the tree."

After many previous months of courting Virgil, it was no longer weird for them to be this close as they were dating. Roman tried to rush through the top part but Virgil put his hand over Romans. "Slowly, sweetie. It's Ok."

After it was all over Roman cuddled him. "Thank you. You could of just been mean about it." Virgil smiled sadly.

"Sweetie. We may joke around and throw some jokey insults at each other but I will never intend to be mean..."

Royality:

Christmas. A nice time. Between those we love the most. Calm. Peace. A time where we bond. Or maybe not...

"No. These are better!"

"Blue fits best with our tree!"

"Okay... okay... hear me out. These ornaments... are way better!"

"...Th-they don't even match...."

Then Logan decided to step in. "They're both nice. So we can either have two trees up, or you guys start to comprise and act professionally." He pushed his glasses up and walked off. Knowing he was right.

It was silent for a moment. They both sat down at each others boxes of ornaments. "You know.... This is pretty."

"Yeah, red and blue might go well together... It makes purple together..."

And that's the year Roman and Parton realised their team effort was just like purple. They were just red and blue alone, but when there was a comprise they could make a brilliant purple.

And the others agreed. The tree looked the best it had in years. All down to them setting their differences aside. They were able to laugh and joke with each other having put down their stubbornness.