#one of them started cleaning the other one for no reason?

[classjezter]

DINOLINGS!

Tiny drabble about when he found them below ⬇️

While out on one of his usual scrapyard runs, grabbing spare parts to recycle or slap into his next project, Wheeljack definitely did not scream when five pairs of glowing optics blinked at him from the shadows. Nope. Not a single yelp of surprise. Once he got a closer look (after maybe tripping over a broken exhaust pipe and landing more at eye-level to them), he realized they were… they were sparklings. Tiny, beastformer sparklings.

They seemed to be alone.

No creators or guardians in sight. Just five scrappy little things huddled among the junk.

…Well he- he couldn’t just leave them there, right? it was getting dark, the scrapyard was no place for sparklings, they looked to not be in the best state, they were in need of help. And since nobody else was around, he was going to be that help.

After some bribery with some energon snacks he found in his subspace, and enduring a few bites and scratches from the biggest one (who seemed to be trying to protect the others), he finally managed to gather them all up, shove them gently into an empty crate, and drive home.

Once at base, he made a beeline to his and Ratchet’s quarters. Still processing. Definitely not panicking. He just… wasn’t sure what to do or say yet. So he waited. Waited for Ratchet to get off shift. Not because he was stalling, no, of course not, but because he needed time to figure out what to do with the sparklings, he was the one that found them, he felt kind of responsible for their wellbeing now.

And in the meantime… well, the sparklings were filthy. A quick wash wouldn’t hurt, right? And while he was at it, they probably needed actual energon, not just leftover snacks as bribes. Feeding them seemed like the logical next step. Oh, and names he couldn’t just call them One through Five, that felt wrong, so temporary names it is. Placeholder names. Nothing serious. Nothing official.

Now they were full, clean, and drowsy. Naturally, the best move was to keep them close, they calmed down when near his EM field just like a sparkling with their creators, snuggling into his plating like he was some kind of walking heater, which made him think they probably couldn’t fully regulate their temperature yet. The tiniest one, Swoop managed to claw his way up to snuggle next to his neck cables, where it was warmer, that was adorable okay. He went to sit in his berth while keeping them close, it’d be better, more comfortable for them. It seemed like they liked it, they were starting to settle down, well, all except Grimlock, the biggest one, who was fighting recharge for some reason, and gnawing on Wheeljack’s pedes just to stay awake, which ow. But the others seemed content though, just a few more breems and they’d-

Whoosh. The door slid open.

And there stood Ratchet, frozen in place, optic twitching as he took in the sight: Wheeljack in their berth, covered by five beastformer sparklings.

alt version without the text because they look cute

[rimzaaa]

YOU BELONG TO ME

Series!

Chapter Two: The One Rule He Broke

Pairing: Dark!Inho(Frontman) x Fem!Reader (y/n)

Fandom: Squid Game (오징어 게임)

Summary: Y/n enters the games just like everyone else — broke, desperate, and unaware of what lies ahead. But what she doesn’t know is that someone behind the scenes has already claimed her. Watching her. Obsessing over her. Ready to break every rule in the game just to keep her safe… because she’s his. Always!

Warnings: Violence, murder (Squid Game canon-style), obsessive behavior, possession, power imbalance, controlling behavior, psychological manipulation, mentions of debt, implied threats, and unhealthy attraction

Author's Note: It’s getting darker and juicier now. We’re starting to get into In-ho’s obsession and how far he’ll go to keep y/n safe… whether she wants him to or not. Thank you all so much for the love on Chapter One — you’re making this series so fun to work on! Reblogs, feedback, and comments mean everything.

Words Count: 1039

Tag list: Let me know if you want to get tagged in this series or other LBH fics.

@weakh3rokdrama @salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1 @watasinekoru @nightlark100 @yosoylaprincesa2004 @drewstarkeysrightarm @thehellhaveubeenloca @filthygalli

Y/n’s eyelids fluttered open, the harsh white lights above blinding her until her vision slowly adjusted. Her head throbbed faintly, and for a moment, she couldn’t recall how she’d ended up here.

The last thing she remembered was stepping into the van that picked her up from the bus stop near her apartment.

And now… she was here.

In a vast, warehouse-like room, filled with rows of steel-framed bunk beds stacked to the ceiling and hundreds of people, each in identical green-and-white tracksuits.

Hers read 222.

Her heart pounded as she sat upright, trying to ground herself. She glanced around — everyone else looked just as disoriented, just as terrified.

What the hell is going on? She thought.

Before she could piece together her thoughts, the front wall split open with a loud hiss. A group of masked figures marched in. Dressed in bright pink jumpsuits and holding rifles, their faces were hidden behind black masks, each bearing a shape — circles, triangles, and one with a rectangle.

The rectangular mask stepped forward. “Welcome to Squid Game.”

The players exchanged confused glances.

“You’re all here for the same reason: money. And we will give you that opportunity. All you have to do... is play and win. The final prize is ₩45.6 Billion Won.”

Gasps rippled across the room. Y/n's lips parted in disbelief. That much? For just… playing games? It sounded too good. Too easy.

Someone shouted from the crowd, “Why should we believe you?”

Without answering, the lead guard pressed a button. A large screen descended from the ceiling. A familiar video began playing.

It was them.

Each one of them, playing dakji with that man in the suit. Slaps echoing. Cash exchanging hands.

Y/n felt her stomach twist as she watched herself on screen, taking that slap, holding the money… and the card.

Gasps turned into silence. The tension thickened.

“As you can see,” the guard continued, “you all came here willingly. Some of you have debts. Others face lawsuits, medical bills, or worse. But here, you all have one thing in common—desperation.”

Y/n’s gaze slowly lifted to the giant display of the prize money on the wall. It glowed like salvation. Her mind started racing — it could change everything. A new apartment. A clean slate. A debt-free life.

The guard’s voice rang again. “Step forward and sign the contract. We begin shortly.”

One by one, players approached the table. Y/n grabbed the pen, eyes narrowing at the fine print.

Clause 3: If the majority agrees to end the games, all players will be dismissed. The prize money gathered until that point will be equally distributed.

Why would anyone want to leave? It’s just games…

Still, a strange unease curled in her stomach.

She signed.

After every signature was collected, the players were led down a maze of colorful stairwells and Escher-like hallways. The walls screamed of childish whimsy, a sick contrast to the dread thickening in their throats.

Y/n stood in line for her photo. A camera clicked. She gave her best awkward smile, forcing the nerves down.

But nothing — nothing — prepared her for what came next.

---

They stood in an open field. In front of them, a towering robotic doll with lifeless eyes.

The first game: Red Light, Green Light.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh. “Seriously?” she muttered. “This is what they’re starting with?”

The doll began to sing.

“Green light.”

Movement. Footsteps.

“Red light.”

Stillness.

Then—

BANG.

Blood sprayed across the ground. The man collapsed.

Gasps turned into chaos. People screamed and scrambled to run — a wave of panic crashing through the field.

And one by one, they were shot. Dropping like flies.

Y/n froze.

She had seen death before. Being in the police, she’d witnessed more than enough. But this? This was a massacre.

Her body locked. Breath shallow. Not a twitch.

The rules were clear: move, and you die.

When the song resumed, players crept forward with fear-tensed limbs. One misstep meant death.

Y/n’s instincts kicked in.

Step.

Stop.

Step.

Freeze.

Over and over, pushing her body forward until the line drew closer.

---

Somewhere deep inside the facility — behind steel walls and a dark room — the Frontman sat silently in a leather armchair, swirling a glass of whiskey. His black mask lay beside him, his sharp eyes glued to the big screen.

But when the camera zoomed in on one of the players…

He leaned forward.

His heart dropped.

“…What the...”

He reached for the thick file on the desk, flipping through until he found the sheet labeled Player 222.

And there she was.

“Y/n,” he breathed, voice dark and low. The name felt like a ghost returning to haunt him — or rather, save him.

The girl who used to visit his house. The girl who laughed in his kitchen with Junho. The girl who never even knew he existed.

But he knew her.

He always knew her.

She was the secret obsession that took root in his soul years ago — the only light in the years of blood and darkness. And now she was here.

In his world.

In his game.

And no one — no one — would take her from him.

He snatched the walkie-talkie.

“Command. Player 222 — she is not to be touched. If she breaks a rule, you do nothing. If she fails, you wait for orders. I want her alive. Unharmed.”

There was a pause.

“But sir, she’s just another—”

“She is not ‘just’ anything. She is MINE!” His voice dropped like steel. “If anything happens to her, you answer to me.”

The line cut. The room went silent but for the soft clink of his glass as he set it back down.

He leaned back, gaze returning to the screen — to her.

Y/n had nearly reached the finish line. Her breathing was shallow, panic in every step.

But she made it. Just in time.

She crossed.

And on the other side of the screen, the Frontman smiled — not with kindness, but with a possessive satisfaction that curled deep in his chest.

He whispered, almost reverently,

“Don’t be scared, angel.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“…Always.”

He never broke a rule as the Frontman. But now, he was going to break one—for her.

Chapter 3

[marlynnofmany]

Good Food and Bad Smells

My crewmates generally got along, which was why I was so surprised to hear the tones of a disagreement as I headed toward the exit. Most of the crew were out getting food at the spaceport; what kind of argument could be happening in the halls?

One related to food, as it turned out. I heard the personnel door close right before I turned the corner. Once there, I found Kavlae and Wio walking towards me.

“What’s up?” I asked, looking between the two pilots. They didn’t look like they’d been arguing with each other.

Kavlae waved her blue frills diplomatically and started with, “Nothing really—”

“Paint’s food stinks,” Wio interrupted, standing indignantly on tentacle-tips. “Had to tell her to eat it outside the ship.”

“Oh,” I said. “Why was that a big deal?”

Wio curled a tentacle. “Search me. Apparently she was surprised neither of us want that smell soaking into the air filters.”

Kavlae looked apologetic. “Even with a sealed package, eating it only in her quarters, we’d smell it all the way down the hall. I’m familiar with that Heatseeker delicacy; it’s almost a biohazard.”

I added, “Which probably hurt her feelings.”

Kavlae winced. “Probably.”

“I’ll tell her you’re sorry but haven’t changed your minds, shall I?” I suggested. “I was about to go visit the food stalls too.”

“Please,” Kavlae said with a nod and flap of her head frills.

Wio said, “Don’t let her convince you the door to her quarters would contain the smell. Those doors are designed to NOT be airtight, for safety reasons.”

“Righto,” I agreed. They walked past and I headed for the door to the outside. I was already breathing shallowly, braced for stench.

But the air outside was clean — well, spaceport-level clean, with tinges of exhaust and sun-warmed pavement. Other ships sat in their designated landing spots.

Paint stood a few steps away from the door, holding a small plastic tub and looking sulky. She lashed her scaly tail and glared.

“Hey,” I said, though she was already talking over me.

“They said it smelled bad!” Paint exclaimed, in the aggrieved tones of someone whose favorite thing had been deeply slandered. “This is the best smell of all foods ever! I followed it across town!” She waved the tub around, which was thankfully still sealed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Geology cake,” Paint told me. “I used to ask for it at every celebration back home. It’s called that because of the layers.” She held the tub with one hand, using the other to gesture in horizontal slices. “Made with perfectly ripe bitterfruit, and fermented worm cream. Plus a few other flavors that I forget. I was never the one to make it back home. I’d love to learn how! Though SOME people would apparently have a problem with that.” She huffed and turned a lizardy glare toward the closed door to the ship.

“They say sorry for the offense,” I told her. “And you know, they probably like some foods that you think are gross too.”

“But it’s my favorite!” Paint said plaintively. She held the tub close like someone might try to take it away from her. “I’d eat it every day if I could. My parents never let us have enough; they said it was unhealthy to have too much.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there for sure,” I said. “It feels like all the things that taste the best are the ones that are bad to eat too much of. Which makes sense, I guess, since probably every civilized species figures out what flavors they like, then maximizes them.”

Paint nodded. “You told me about that aisle of salty snack food in your home store.”

“Right! Salt tastes good because we need a certain amount to be healthy, and in nature it can be hard to find.” I waved my own hands, warming to the subject. “But we’re not in nature anymore, and we’ve made tons of delicious things with more salt in a meal than we need in two days. Such a problem to have.”

“It’s unfair,” Paint agreed. She looked sadly down at the tub. “This really is my favorite, though. That’s important. Do you have a favorite food? Probably one of those toxic ones, right?”

I laughed. “Chocolate is pretty darn tasty, I won’t lie. I don’t really have one single favorite food, since there are so many good ones. I usually just say pizza.”

Paint nodded as if that was what she expected. “You told me about that. Every ingredient takes multiple stages of processing, and two of the most common ones will give most sentient species intestinal troubles.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” I admitted. “I didn’t used to think bread stuff was strange at all until I got to space, to say nothing of cheese.”

Paint made a face and shook her head. “The less said about cheese, the better.”

“Did I tell you that some humans can’t digest it properly either?”

“Yes! Which makes it all the more baffling that it’s so popular in human spaces!”

I shrugged. “There are pills that you can take to help with lactose intolerance. It tastes good enough to be worth it. Especially with all the other ingredients.”

“Toxic ones. With blood-red sauce that causes organ failure.”

“Not for everybody!” I objected. “Some people can eat tomatoes. Just not everybody.”

“I am not about to try,” Paint said. She looked down at the tub again. “I am going to eat this, though, no matter what those two brainless noses say.”

I didn’t comment on the Heatseeker phrasing. I was curious. “Before I go get my own food, can I smell it? Will it put me off eating all together?”

Paint was delighted by this, and assured me that of course not, it was a lovely smell, the best around, etc etc. I just nodded as she opened the tub.

She held it out. “There! Isn’t that amazing?”

I only got a glimpse of beige frosting before getting nose-punched by an odor that was both sharp and rotten. I tried to keep a neutral expression as I stepped back, exhaling forcefully and hoping the stench wouldn’t follow me.

“Hm. Not for me, I think.”

“But it’s so good!” Paint repeated. “Where’s Captain Sunlight? She’ll back me up. Clearly all of you just have inferior noses.”

“Possible,” I allowed, breathing through my mouth. Ugh, I could taste it too.

“Wait, there’s Eggskin! They’ll like it!” Paint waved at the approaching cook/medic, who was also a small lizardperson with apparently horrendous taste in cake.

I tried to sound normal when I joked, “They’ll probably just caution you not to eat it all in one sitting.”

“They’d better not!”

When Eggskin got a little closer, I could see that they were carrying a bag that might have come from a food stall.

When they got a little closer still, the wind changed and I honestly almost threw up. “What is that?” I demanded, covering my nose.

Eggskin approached and sighed. “I probably should have just eaten this back there, shouldn’t I? The chairs were all full.”

I suggested, “Did you try waving that around and waiting? I suspect they would have cleared out pretty quickly.”

Paint just cocked her head curiously. “What is it? It smells familiar.”

Eggskin managed to look guilty. “Three-month pneumonia. It’s not the healthiest choice, I admit—”

Paint pointed. “That’s why it’s so familiar! It was my cousin’s favorite!”

“Three-month what?” I asked, certain I’d heard wrong.

“Pneumonia,” confirmed our ship’s medic. “Whoever invented it got creative with the naming. I would have preferred something less ominous.”

Paint hurried to explain it, waving the lid of her own still-open food around. “It’s knife-wing lungs! Filled with fermented greedbeast-fat sauce!”

Eggskin nodded. “And slug garnish.”

“Wow,” I managed. “That sounds special.”

“It is! A rare treat.” Eggskin turned to Paint. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, no thank you; I have my own food,” Paint said politely, finally putting the lid back on. “Also I can’t stand knife-wing. Sorry.”

I made a rather gurgling laugh and pointed toward the edge of the spaceport. “I think I see some empty tables over there. Maybe you two would like to eat and reminisce about parties and strong-smelling food?”

Paint perked up and followed my finger. “Oh! Yay!”

Eggskin gave me a knowing look. “You’re going to run off in the opposite direction, aren’t you?”

I was already walking. “I think I spy something promising way the heck over there.”

Paint headed for the tables. “Enjoy your toxins!”

“You as well!” I said. “I hope your biohazard is delicious.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[ofstarsandvibranium]

End in FriENDS

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joaquin have been friends for years, yet you often swing the line between friends and something more. It's come to the point where Joaquin is tired of it. Based off the song FRI(END)S by V.

Joaquin Torres Masterlist

Joaquin was just about to head out the door to meet up with some of his Air Force friends. You were out on a date right now and he didn't want to stay home and sulk. He was ready to go hang with them at a bar, but then you texted him:

Angel: you doing anything tonight? ended the date early.

He pauses at his door and looks at the text again, volleying back and forth between telling you the truth and lying. He sighs and scratches his head. He types out:

Joaquin: I'm free. Come over?

Angel: cool. i'll bring pizza.

Joaquin: sounds good. see you soon!

He steps away from his door and closes it. He pulls up his group chat with his friends and tell them he's backing out. Using the excuse that some stuff come up.

They all gave him shit, rightfully so, but in a more playful manner. Some tried to convince him to still go. Others teased him about him cancelling either due to Captain America or you. But Joaquin didn't respond to those allegations. Instead, he puts the group chat on mute and cleans his place up a little bit.

You're his best friend, so he'd do anything for you...even delaying anything and everything he can do to get over you.

________________________

You and Joaquin are curled up in a pile of blankets and pillows on his living room floor. Love Island plays on his tv and the pizza you brought is nearly finished.

You sigh, pulling a blanket higher up and snuggling into Joaquin's chest.

"So...the date?"

"He was nice...until he started talking about how John Walker should still be Captain America instead of Sam."

Joaquin snorts, "And another one bites the dust."

"I think that's a valid reason to not want to see him again."

"I'm not saying it isn't. Just, ya know, none of these guys are good enough for you. You deserve someone who's kind, who gets you. Someone who's willing to do anything and everything to make you smile."

You look at him and poke his chest, "You do that for me, Quin," you give him a smirk and he hums.

"Yeah but we're-we're just friends. I always had your back. Always will."

You feel a drop in your stomach and you slowly nod, "Yeah. Right, same." You set your head back on his chest and try to put your attention back to people competing for love on television.

_____________________

You don't tell Joaquin the real reason all of these guys don't work out. You don't tell him that every guy you date doesn't compare to him. They don't smile like him, laugh like him, make you feel butterflies like him. You can't tell Joaquin any of that because you two are just friends, best friends. But, fuck, did you wish you were more than that. Friends don't make you feel the way Joaquin makes you feel. He makes you feel complete. Loved. Seen.

But you and he keep reiterating to each other that you're friends.

What if you stop that? What if there's something there? What if you put the end in being friends?

There's a knock at your door and you open it to reveal Joaquin. He's wearing a denim jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans, and Docs. It's a simple outfit and yet he looks so handsome in it.

"Ready?" You nod and follow him to his car, where he opens the passenger door for you and helps you in.

You and he were having dinner with Sam. Sarah, AJ, and Cass were visiting and he invited you two to his place.

When you arrive, Joaquin helps you out of the car, placing his hand at the small of your back. You keep a straight face as he guides you to Sam's door, but you feel your cheeks heating up.

Sarah opens the door and you give her a hug. You then pull out the bottle of wine from your tote bag and hand it to her.

"This'll go perfect with dinner! Thank you!" you follow her to the kitchen, offering up any help, while Joaquin goes into the backyard where Sam is grilling.

"Hey! There he is!" Sam gives Joaquin a pat on the back, "You bring your girl?"

Joaquin blushes, "She's not my girl, man. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Sam gives his protege a knowing look, "I know how you look at her, dude. You guys would be cute together! Why don't you say anything?"

Joaquin sighs and shrugs, "Just don't wanna mess things up. We've been best friends forever. What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"Then at least you'll know and you can move on. Come on, the yearning puppy look isn't good for you."

Joaquin furrows his brows and pouts, "...I don't look like a yearning puppy....do I?"

Sam snorts, "Big time," he hands him a plate of barbecue, "put this on the table and let everyone know I'm almost done."

"Sure thing."

_____________________

"So...you and Joaquin?"

You sigh, "No, nothing like that. We're childhood friends. We're close."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Sarah says with a smirk as she tosses the salad in the big bowl in front of her.

"But I would like something more with him. I think he's the only one who gets me."

"And the chemistry you two have," Sarah whistles, "So much tension between you two."

You groan, "I know. Some day I may just grab his face and kiss him and yell in his face that I'm in love with him."

"You are?"

You whip your body around to see Joaquin standing there with a plate of barbecue. You two stare at each other, frozen in place.

Sarah looks between you and Joaquin and rushes to Joaquin, "I'll grab that and set up the table. Let you two talk," behind Joaquin Sarah gestures to Joaquin and mouths, 'Tell him now!'

Your whole body is buzzing with anxiety, "Um, you weren't supposed to hear that."

He looks at you confused, "How long have you been in love with me?"

You shake your head, "It doesn't matter, Joaquin-"

"-because I've been in love with you for years now."

"-we can just-wait...what?"

He slowly approaches you, "I've been in love with you for years, Y/N, and it's been killing me seeing you go on these dates with guys. Getting treated like you're not the best thing to walk on this planet. I hated wishing that it was me that was taking you on those dates, treating you the way you deserve."

"But we're friends, Joaquin."

He can't help but chuckle, "Baby, I don't think we've been just friends friends for a long time." He reaches out and grabs your hand, "Are you afraid?"

"A little."

He softly smiles at you, "Me too, but...we've lasted this long. We'll be okay."

You shake your head, "What if things change?"

"The only thing that'll change is that now I can tell everyone you're officially mine and I'm officially yours. And I get to hold your hand and kiss you whenever I want. Speaking of which, I'd like to do that right now, if that's okay?"

You giggle, "Yeah. That's okay."

"Finally," he murmurs before cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours.

[rosenclaws]

Not Fair || Worst Logan x Reader

summary: Worst Logan is trying to start his second chance but you seem to hate him and he has no idea why.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, talking about og logan :(

a/n: I had this super angsty idea and idc if its over done I wanted to write it so bam here it is. Plus I miss writing for worst wolvie

Logan was used to dirty look. In fact that was pretty much all he got for the last 20 years or so. But for some reason the look of absolute hatred on your face stung more than usual. He didn't expect a warm welcome when Wade dragged him into this new world. The last Wolverine may have been a hero but probably wasn't always the nicest guy. But so far everyone has been pretty nice.

Yukio was sweet but didn't say much. He likes Negasonic a lot, she's got the same no bullshit attitude that he does. Peter is uh, interesting but not terrible and having Laura here was a new but fun feeling.

The only problem was you. You seemed to hate him. He doesn't know why but the way you look at him really stings. Your eyes are full of hatred it makes him feel so small. Maybe it hurts more because the two of you were something back in his world.

Calling it a relationship would be overstating it but you and Logan had something special. Maybe if he had gotten his head out of his ass and done something about it things would have turned out differently. That seemed to be a common factor with all the Wolverines. Too stubborn for their own good and refusing to let themselves be happy.

Seeing you again was like a slap in the face but maybe he could change something about his timeline. Fix his cowardice and make you feel loved and cared for like he should have. But perhaps he was too late. The other Logan might have already done the damage and he was here to suffer the aftermath.

He sees you across the room. You're uncomfortable. It's Laura's birthday and she had invited both of you. It was weird. The last time you saw Laura she was just a kid. She told you she was okay to go off with her friends and so you let her. You of course offered to help those kids but they declined. Instead you'd send them care packages whenever you could. You didn't know Laura was zapped to the void.

Now she's here and all grown up and just. So perfect. Logan was invited too. Laura knows that he's not the one who saved her but she wants to know him. She's a version of Logan and honestly, he's grown very fond of the kid too.

He can see Laura trying to balance it all. Mingle with her friends while spending time with you and with him. The least he can do is try and reach a hand out. Try and apologize for whatever the other him had done.

He slowly makes his way over to your side of the room. The large group of people and small apartment was not in his favor. As fate would have it Logan does not smoothly appear at your side asking if you want to talk.

Instead he trips over Mary Puppins and sends your drink right onto your chest. Spilling all over your clothes. Fuck. Logan stumbles to his feet. Everyone is staring and he has the overwhelming urge to tell them to fuck off.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Your voice so sharp he nearly flinches. He reaches out to try and wipe away some of the wine. Of course his dumbass would go and make you hate him even more.

"I'm really sorry I didn't mean to-"

"I said I was fine!" Logan shrinks back at your harsh tone. His hands fall limply to his side. You storm away from him into the bathroom.

“Fucked it up again.” He groans.

"It's not you. Well not really." He looks to his side to see Laura offering him a towel. He grabs it and lays it on the floor, cleaning up any mess.

"Logan, my Logan was very important to them and I think seeing you is just a lot is all." She says.

Logan nods, he knows it's weird for him to have shown up here but he's trying to make things right. He's trying to make this second chance worth it. He can't help that his heart seems to be drawn to you. You want nothing to do with him but for some reason he still cares how you feel and how you feel about him.

"Thanks kid, sorry about the mess on your birthday." He ruffles her hair and she shoves him off.

"Don't worry about it old man." He smiles as she's pulled away by a few of her new friends.

He spots you slinking your way back to the party. Moving through the crowd to the door and out of the apartment before anyone could notice. His feet move before he can think. He just wants to apologize and see if you're okay.

He's pushing it but he can't stop. He follows you all the way to the roof. He almost laughs. Of course you'd be here. That's where he'd always find you back in his world. The roof of the mansion was your safe spot.

"Why are you following me?" You turn to look at him. A tired but pissed off look on your face.

"I...I just wanted to say sorry for spilling your drink and to see if you're okay." Logan says gently. He approaches you slowly, like a wounded animal.

"Well I'm fine so you can go." Logan sighs, just walk away Logan he tells himself.

You clearly don't want him there. But something in him won't let him. He walked away from you before and you ended up dead. He just can't do that again.

"I'm sorry, for whatever I've done to you. I get that this whole thing is weird but I just want to make things right with you." Your jaw clenches as Logan continues to stay. Stubborn. Always so damn stubborn. You get to your feet and walk right up to him.

"Can't you take a fucking hint? I said to leave me alone!" You shout and Logan just stands there. That stupid caring look on his face.

"I'm not gonna leave you when you're hurting." He says firmly and it makes your heart hurt even more.

"Still the same stubborn stupid man, you could never listen to what I wanted. It was always what you thought was best." You snap.

Logan always swore he knew best. When he tried to leave you when he got old, he tried to force you away because he thought he was saving you and he never seemed to listen when you told him otherwise.

And this, this Logan seemed to be just like him. That same face, the same voice, the same sharp tongue, the same kindness with Laura, the same laugh.

It was driving you insane.

“You know what Logan? I can’t stand you." His eyes flash with hurt but he doesn't fight back.

"I can't stand even being in the same room as you because you look at me with these sad eyes and I hate it.” Those sad eyes were so familiar that it's just another slap in the face when you realize it's a different man.

“And I can’t stand you because you're messy and you drink too much and because…because-“ You struggle to speak as you try and piece the words together. Everything is building up and the flood comes before you can stop it.

“Because it’s not fair! It’s not fucking fair that you’re alive and he’s not!” You shout. The whole street could probably hear you but you don’t care.

“You are the worst wolverine. You let your friends die!” You shove his chest hard and he lets you.

Staying silent as you fall apart in front of him. Whatever was festering deep inside of you was finally coming out. You needed this. So Logan just stays quiet.

“He wasn’t perfect but dammit he tried. He was a teacher and he protected his friends and he had finally found peace.” You let out a frustrated yell as you kick a rock into the street.

“We were happy. He had fixed everything and we were so fucking happy. Then everything went wrong. Like the world looked at him and decided that some sins couldn’t be forgiven. It killed our friends, our family. It poisoned him. Slowly changed the man I loved into a shell of himself. But fuck I still loved him with everything I had.” You cry as you mourn the man you knew.

The Logan you met that day in the mansion who was so handsome and so cocky. Even as his hair turned gray and his powers weakened you still saw the man you loved. You loved him so much.

“And he died. He wasn’t supposed to die! We were supposed to be happy.” You fall back onto the cold concrete of the roof.

Staring up at the stars as you laid exhausted. The anger had fled your body and now you’re just tired. Tears still falling down your face as you cry and cry. Logan slowly sits down next to you. He isn’t sure if you even want him here. But something compels him to stay.

He’s not the man you knew but he is a variant and every variant of him is destined to love you. He can’t walk away while you’re in pain. Even if you hate him. He can live with that.

"Sweetheart." Logan places a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him and before you can stop yourself you throw your arms around him. Hugging him tight as you cry into his shirt. He wraps his arms around you tightly. Letting you find comfort in him for as long as you need.

He smells different. That's the first thing you notice. It's a nice smell but it's still different. It pulls you out of your spiral. You pull away to look at him, really look at him. He was Logan. But there were small differences that almost made you cry again. Why? You don't really know. His eyes had more green than blue and he had more wrinkles. He was still just as handsome though.

"Thank you. For not walking away." You say quietly and he nods in reply.

“If I could, I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.” Logan says. You look at him, tilting your head at his words.

“Why?” You ask.

“If it would make you happy. I’d do anything.” He says like it was nothing. Like he wasn't offering to give up his own life to make you happy.

“You don’t even know me Logan.”

“No, I don’t. But I knew a version of you and I know how much he must have loved you too.” He says as he cups your cheek in his hand.

He knows what that Logan must have felt because he feels it too. Not as strong because he doesn't know you as well but it's there. Maybe it's always meant to be there. That love between you two.

“He was the luckiest one out of all of us you know.” He says.

“How can dying be lucky?” There must be Logan's out there who are still alive. Surely there's no way your Logan had the happy ending.

“He was lucky to be loved by you." Logan whispers.

He's a hard man to love and he's sure that carries on through every timeline. But you still did and you stuck by him through it all. How lucky was that man to have you. Your lip wobbles as you take in his words. The sincerity of it all. Is that really how he felt?

“I’m sorry for everything. I was punishing you for something you didn’t even do.” You say, offering him an awkward but apologetic smile.

“It’s alright sweetheart. Sometimes we just need to let it out. Even if it hurts.” Logan takes your hand and you let him. He squeezes it softly and you squeeze back. You two sit on the roof for a little bit. Watching the stars. You used to do this back at the mansion.

“I’m not trying to replace him, I’m not him and we both know that.” Logan starts.

“But if you’d give me a chance, I’d like to get to know you.” There's no expectations, just a need to be close to you. How ever you'll take him he'd accept it. He just, he really missed you.

“I’d like that.” You whisper quietly.

The love you have for Logan will never go away. His new variant could never replace him. But maybe…just maybe your heart could be big enough to love them both.

“We’ll take it slow. Here, What’s your favorite color?”

“Okay slow down there, thats very private information.” You say with a soft smile. Logan chuckles and raises his hands up.

“Mine is blue." He says.

"Blue like the blue of your suit or a different blue?" You ask and he shrugs.

"I don't know, just blue."

"Logan there's more than one shade of blue."

"Okay well then I like all of them."

You talk for hours. About anything and everything. Some small things and some big ones. But it's nice to have someone to talk to again. You truly missed this. You missed him.

The man beside you is not the man you loved but he is someone you could learn to love. You both each other before, you don't want to lose him again.

[xnackery027]

I’ve noticed that when Moon, Monty, and Sun are hanging out, the conversation almost always turns towards making fun of Sun for being too girly and feminine. This dynamic has been around since the early days of the show, like early early. I want to try and elaborate on canon a little, by showing how Sun’s behavior was one of the first things Moon and Monty could bond over. This is supposed to be after separation, but before Eclipse fronted.

When Moon separated with Sun, he finally got to hang out with Monty without Sun around to hear. Right now, they were fixing a go kart together, Monty under the cart and Moon taking apart the motor. “-Fuck, Y’know, it’s just so stupid! I have all these great ideas, ‘cause I actually know how to do my damn job, and they’re too busy sucking each other off to pay attention!” Monty growled, discarding a piece of broken off metal from the cart’s engine. “I could take any one of their jobs, hell, I could take all of ‘em! Stupid pricks…” Moon let out a sigh, leaning against the cart. “God, I wish I could have a maintenance officer’s job. That’d be so much better than whatever they try to make me do in that damn daycare hellhole! I don’t know how Sun got it so good to be born into a perfect job and I have to do all the hard work.” Moon’s voice rose into a mocking falsetto. “Oh, I can’t wait to cuddle with a bunch of snot nosed brats tomorrow! I’m so happy that I get to skip around and snuggle up to humans!” He mimed a vomiting motion with his hand. “God, it makes me sick just thinking about it.”

“Sun’s always been a little soft, though. Not built for the tough stuff, Y’know? He just likes stuff like that. Cleaning, caring for children…”

“Psssh. You don’t know the half of it. He’s such a sissy. Always has been. Y’know, he spends a good two hours just looking at himself in the mirror and ‘fixing’ himself. Just sanding away all the paint bumps and filing his nails. He calls that fixing!” Moon cried, nearly tugging the fuel pipe out of its socket. “I bet you he doesn’t even know how to lube his own ray casings. ‘Fixing’, Jesus Christ.”

Monty chuckled. “Y’know, I always wondered if he was actually supposed to be a girl, the way he acts. Maybe Fazbear just made him an ugly dude so people wouldn’t hit on him.” He grunted, tightening a bolt with his fingers. Moon laughed, then hummed like he was considering it. “Y’know, he’s always been such an emotional mess, too. Crying over the dumbest shit. Maybe he was just on his period or something! God, could you imagine him trying to actually fix something?” They shared a laugh, imagining it. “He’d drop a screw on the ground and then start bawling until someone helped him! What a joke.”

From then on, when Sun would complain to Moon about something someone said or a child did, Monty would fan his face and mime tears behind his back. Moon would let out a poorly concealed giggle that Sun never could find a reason for. Moon would send Monty videos of Sun sitting at his vanity, gently cooing to himself as he preened in the mirror.

She’s so full of herself Moon would caption. Monty sent back a lipstick emoji.

a girl’s gotta look good for her crush~

oh holyshit try to get him to wear those magnet pins on his rays. Like earings

Earrings*

shut up just do it

KK

“Sun. Don’t you have those little magnets in there somewhere? Like those pink hearts for Valentine’s Day?” He asked, making Sun perk up in his seat. “I think so! Do you want them?”

“Nah, I think they’d look good with your uniform. Really impress Roxanne.”

“Really?” He asked, digging through his overstuffed vanity filled with metal paints and stickers. “I dunno. They’re not really on-theme. She doesn’t even like pink.” He held up one of the heart-shaped pins to the mirror, like he was trying to imagine Roxanne complimenting him on it. “Sun, think about it. Yellow, red, pink, you’d look like a sunset. Girls go crazy for sunsets.” Sun thought about it, then frowned. “Won’t I look a little…mmm?” He shrugged, miming a limp wrist. “Whattt? No. Freddy’s got all sorts of rings and stuff on. He’s manly. Just try it, it’s not like they’ll be glued on forever.”

“Oh, what’ll it hurt?” He stuck the magnets on his upper rays, carefully sliding them until they were even. “How does it look?”

“Brother, it looks awesome.” Sun smiled so wide he didn’t notice how many pictures Moon was taking with his shutter eyes. They were all instantly sent to Monty, who nearly doubled over laughing.

she looks so girlypop~

Lmfaooooo

He’s doing it to impress Roxanne T.T

no fucking way

doesn’t he know roxy’s a butch?

Moon tilted his head a little.

A what

y’know

like a lezz

a girlkisser

a scissor sister

What the fuck does that even mean

SHES A LESBIAN DUMBASS

SHE DOESNT LIKE DUDES

Oh.

Moon watched Sun pull his uniform pants over his skinny legs, humming happily as he prepared to hop down from the balcony and start accepting kids inside. He paused by the mirror one more time, wiggling his heart earrings around. “Alright. I just need a windup, and then I can start. Ready, Moon?” Moon snapped out of his thoughts, nodding. Windups were something they started after they separated. It was hard for Sun to go out alone, and they developed a ritual to help with it. Moon stood up, moving to him. Sun stood still, like a giant toy, with his arms slightly raised to his sides.

“All the kids are going to behave,” Moon started as he made a loud ker-chunk noise, pressing an imaginary key into Sun’s back. “And you’ll be the center of attention all day long,” he twisted his fist against Sun’s skyhook, turning the ‘key’. “Nobody’s going to make fun of you…” He recited, feeling his phone guiltily buzz in his pocket. “And…” Sun hummed unhappily as Moon’s grip got a little tighter. He wasn’t playing correctly. “And…”

“Moon?” He asked, confused.

“…and Roxanne’s gonna love your earrings. Go Sun, go!” He let go of Sun, who quickly giggled and lept off the balcony with the speed of an automaton. He heard his brother’s voice get farther away, and he looked back down at his phone.

maybe he’s trying to act like a girl so roxy gets confused lol

she’s so dumb it just might work

they’re like

made for each other

Lol

u good man ?

u stopped responding for a min

Moon squinted.

Had to get Sun ready for work

ugh

he’s so annoyjing

i bet he was trying to put mascara on lmao

Annoying*

It’s not that bad. It doesn’t bother me

sybau

also that’s cuz u were inside him like a month ago

Gross

Don’t say it like that

ayo???

Shut up

anyway do you wanna fuck around in p&s and get high in my glam room 2night

i found this new oil flavor i wanna try

Sure what is it

it’s supposed to taste like pizza

Gross

I’ll be there in 5

fuck yeah

[demigodsanswer]

More of grandma sally and grandpa paul please

Came up with this idea a few days ago ~ Sophia is almost two, Nella is almost five months.

~

Percy had a parenting secret that had made his and Annabeth's lives easier from the moment Sophia was born.

Grandparents.

Sally and Paul were the keys to their success and time management, and this summer, they had really been vital. As high school teachers, Percy and Paul had the summers, and Sally had found enough writing success that she didn't need a day job anymore. That meant the girls didn't need day care. It also meant that Percy was spending nine months of his year teaching high school, and three months of the year teaching preschool.

Actually, Sophia still went to daycare two days a week for the socialization, and to keep her entertained while Percy did things like cleaned the apartment and went to the grocery store. Sometimes Nella would stay with grandma while he did, or she'd just join her Daddy as his little helper.

Technically, it was a daycare day, but the weather was simply too beautiful to let Sophia stay inside all day. The sun was out but there was enough cloud cover and breeze that it wasn't oppressively hot. Percy picked Sophia up at Noon and went to meet his mom and Paul in Central Park for a picnic.

"Nanny!" Sophia said, kicking her feet in her stroller to try and get out the moment Sally came into view.

"Hello, baby!" His mom said, picking her up out of her stroller.

Sophia instantly started talking about how Percy had picked her up early, and how she was so excited that Nanny and Poppop were her surprise. They'd set up the blanket under a big tree for some extra shade, but there were still some warm sun spots poking through the leaves.

"That girl sure can talk," Paul said as Percy set up the little sun tent to keep Nella in the shade. She wasn't even five months old. His baby girl did not need a suntan.

His other baby girl was still, somehow, remarkably, chattering away to a very attentive grandma.

"She's far and away the best talker in her class," Percy said proudly. "It's that big brain of hers."

"She's gotta be way ahead of the other two-year-olds," Paul said.

"She's not two yet," Percy corrected. "But yeah, she is. She's off the charts, literally. Tippy top percentile, the pediatrician said."

Sophia's second birthday was in five days, and Percy definitely wasn't freaking out about it at all. He wasn't constantly thinking about how quickly the two years had gone, or how big Sophia was, or that she was almost not a baby anymore, but a toddler. Percy wasn't thinking about any of that. He certainly hadn't cried about it after ordering her birthday cake. Nope, not at all.

"Any pregnancy announcements this birthday?" Paul asked with a smirk.

Annabeth had discovered her second pregnancy at Sophia's first birthday party. Paul was not the first one to wonder if she and Percy were planning to start a trend.

"Not as far as we know," Percy said. "And I think Annabeth would kill me if that happened again."

Annabeth loved Nella, but the back-to-back pregnancies had taken their physical and emotional toll to be sure. They both wanted her to take a healthy break before the next one.

"Daddy!" Sophia said, running up to him with a dandelion in her hands. "Is for you!"

"Thank you, Love Bug!" Percy said.

She ran off, picked another one, and soon Percy had a lap full of yellow flowers.

"They all gone?" Sophia said, looking around the lawn for more, and not spotting any more yellow.

"You must have picked them all," Percy said.

"But I wan' more of them," Sophia said.

"Maybe when we come back next time, there will be more," Percy said. But Percy could see it, the inevitable meltdown that came from not being able to reason with a toddl -- baby. A baby!

"Why don't we go look for some cool leaves?" Sally said, holding out her hand.

The bomb was diffused. Sophia smiled and took grandmas hand, and off they went.

Percy laid on his back on the blanket and stared up at the sky. And almost immediately, Nella started to fuss.

"I've got her," Paul said, scooping Nella out of her tent and readjusting her bucket hat.

"She's probably hungry," Percy said.

He started to sit up to get the diaper bag and cooler, but Paul just said: "I've got it."

"You're the best," Percy said.

When Nella was fed and burped, Paul rested her on Percy's chest, so that they were, more or less, tummy to tummy.

Percy smiled at his other baby. "Hi there," he said. Nella cooed back, staring at Percy with her big brown eyes, and doing a good job of holding her head up for a few minutes. But then Percy rested his hand on her back, and she settled onto his chest, and fell right to sleep in the warm summer sun.

"Could you put her blanket over her legs?" Percy asked Paul. "I've been nap trapped."

"You got it."

Sally and Sophia came back finally, with handfuls of dandelions, leaves, and twigs.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," Sophia said to him.

"Oh no, what are we going to do?" Percy asked.

Sophia frowned and stomped her little foot. "I'm hungry!" She said again. She must be way past hungry if she's full on hangry. Percy tried not to laugh or smile, but he couldn't help it. She was so much like Annabeth.

"Here, Love Bug," Sally said, "we've got a sandwich for you. And we packed olives!"

With a little "Yay!" Sophia skipped off to the other side of the blanket where Sally had arranged a paper plate with her sandwich, some olives, and some apple slices.

After a few more minutes, Percy carefully transferred Nella back into her tent. Thankfully, she stayed snoozing.

His mom handed him the Italian sub, bag of chips, and bottle of Coke she'd brought for him.

"You're my hero, did you know that?" Percy asked, relieved to have the food. The soda in particular was a welcome relief in the warm sun.

He was a few bites in when Sophia stood up and disappeared behind the tree.

"Sophia, what are you doing?" Percy asked, standing to try and find her.

"I'm pooping!" She announced.

Sally and Paul just laughed, while Percy exhaled. He was hoping she wouldn't poop while they were still at the park. The bathrooms weren't nice. A wet diaper he could take care of in a matter of seconds, and probably just out on the picnic blanket. A one year, eleven months and 29 days-year-old's poopy diaper was another situation completely.

"I'll change her in the ladies room," Sally said. Their changing table was at least some-what nicer than in the men's room, which had gang signs, hate speech, and probably so many drugs on it.

"Thank you," Percy said.

Sophia came back a minute later, now much stinkier. "Go with Nanny," Percy said. Sophia took Sally's hand and walked off towards the bathrooms.

"You know, if she's going to hide for privacy, she's probably ready to start potty training. That's how we knew Estelle was ready," Paul said.

Percy swallowed his bite. "She can't be ready to potty train, she's not even two yet."

"How are you handling her up coming birthday?" Paul asked.

"I'm fine," Percy lied.

Paul smiled. "It's not always easy watching them get bigger. I can't even imagine having a little girl who grew up as fast as Sophia did. She'd been a toddler since she was thirteen months old."

"Tell me about it," Percy said. "I'm excited to watch her get bigger. I just wish it didn't all go so fast." Percy tried to cover his misty eyes by looking away from Paul to peak in at Nella. If she was anything like her sister, it wouldn't be long before she was talking too. It didn't not help the misty situation.

"Well, at least someone's here who maybe understands how you feel," Paul said.

Percy was about to turn, expecting to see his mom, but instead he heard: "Is he crying about Sophia's birthday again?"

Percy whipped around and saw Annabeth, still in her work clothes right behind him.

"Hey!" Percy said, greeting her and protesting at the same time. Before he could stand, she sat down next to him. His heart still picked up the pace when he saw her. She was glowing and golden in the sun, and the perfect blend of pretty and intimidating in her work clothes.

"She's cried just as much," Percy told his step-dad, pointing an accusing thumb in Annabeth's direction. Paul handed Annabeth her food as Percy asked: "What are you doing here?"

"Lied about a family emergency," Annabeth said.

"I hope it's not too serious," Percy said.

"Oh very serious. I just found out my family was having a park day without me!" Annabeth said.

"Well, at least someone in your family was nice enough to let you know where we were," Percy said, feeling a bit bad that one of his parents had had the idea to tell her where they were when Percy hadn't.

"Speaking of ... where's Sophia?" Annabeth asked.

"Diaper change," Percy told her. "Paul thinks she's ready to start potty training."

"I've been thinking that too," Annabeth said. This was news to Percy who felt oddly betrayed. "Maybe after her birthday party? We can get her a potty for her birthday, make it seem like an exciting thing?"

"Or, hear me out, we find a way to keep them both little forever?" Percy joked. He was fine. He's fine. It's fine. He's fine.

Annabeth kissed his cheek. "You're handling this all very well," she said. Percy couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"Mommmmyyyy!" A little voice yelled. Percy took Annabeth's plate from her as Sophia crashed into her mom.

"Hi, Love Bug!" Annabeth said, giving her a big squeeze. "It's so good to see you!"

Sophia grabbed the dandelions and the pretty leafs off the ground and handed them to Annabeth.

"Are these for me?" Annabeth asked.

Sophia nodded.

"I thought they were mine?" Percy said.

"Daddy, we need to share," Sophia told him, getting a laugh from Sally and Paul. "Is not funny," Sophia told them. Percy was glad to see her taking sharing so seriously.

"You're right, sharing isn't funny. It's very important," Sally said.

Sophia backed up butt first until she was sitting on Annabeth's lap.

"Why don't you sit with me so Mommy can eat?" Percy suggested.

Sophia sighed dramatically and stood back up to reverse back into Percy's lap this time.

"Where did you get this attitude?" Percy teased.

"You," Annabeth and Sally said at the same time.

[my-flesh-is-crispy]

TWOTIME FLUFF ANYTHING YOU WANTTTT ILL EAT IT UP 🤑🤑🥶🥶🔥🙏/nf

My Smile For You(TwoTime x gn!reader(fluff))

SOSOSOSOSOSOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

I had it 90% done for like a week, and procrastinated for so long sorryyy

Tw:subtle obsessive behavior. Short!

<3

You ran as fast as you possibly could.step after step, none made you feel far enough from the killer chasing you. Not a single step away made you feel safe. But running was still your best option at the moment. You checked your back to see the killer hunched over. They were stunned, so you quickly turned the corner and escaped their sight quietly.

You leaned against a wall of a room before sliding dwn to sit on the ground, back pressed against the wall as your chest rose up and down very quickly, panting as you try and catch your breath... For some reason you feel watched right now. It was probably just your partner, Two Time, they had a very weird habit of watching you randomly.

You zoned out and just stared at the wall, you were in a lot of pain, open wounds leaking blood onto the floor, red flesh fully exposed on parts of your leg, it was a miracle from spawn himself you could even run in hide here, Two Time thought as they surveyes your injures from a couple feet away. At least your breath evened out into a nice pase.They quietly sat by you, sliding a medkit into your lap. Two Time:"...spawn blessed me with a medkit earlier, but I think you're much more in need of one than me" you stared down at the medkit, feeling too weak to do anything with it. Y/n:"....uh-, do you mind doing it, times?". Two Time:"oh! How could I forget, my apologies, dearest"

Two Time was always a lot less... Manic, around you. It's why you guys were paired up a lot, and why you eventually started dating (somehow the Azure situation didn't bother you).

Two Time sat on their folded legs Infront of you, grabbing the medkit and bandaging up your legs carefully, treating your skin like it was made of waffer thin glass. They firmly held a bandage on where you were bleeding the most to get it to stop while tracing feather light padders on your other leg with their free hand. Even though it hurt a lot, the gentle pressure of their hand on your wounds and their fingers brushing against your skin was oddly comfortable and made you feel relaxed.

After some time, they noticed the wound stop bleeding, so they grabbed a new clean wrap and secured it around your leg. They looked up into your eyes, their gaze piercing through your very soul, but their eyes softened as they sat up and offered you a hand to help you up. Two Time:"alright, do you feel good enough to walk? Are the bandages comfortable enough?" You grabbed their hand and stood up. Y/n:"yeah, I think I'm fine, and so are the bandages.". They smiled, not the usual manic insanity smile, no, just a regular, loving smile. Two Time:"I found a good hiding spot earlier, we should hide out until this is over, I still don't want you running too much after that" they continued to hold your hand, guiding you to the spot they found.

You heard screams down the hall... But it was probably fine... You trusted them, but you did hold their hand a little tighter.

They pulled you into a dark corner in a hidden room at the far corner of the map. Crouching down and pulling you down with them. Two Time:"shhh, they won't find us here if we're quiet...!" They said, pulling you closer so you we're pressed against them. They told themselves they were holding you so close to keep you safe because you were a blessing in their life. But you both knew they loved the feeling of them against you. Skin on skin, it was... Comforting. Comforting in a way that made them love you even more.

You didn't mind though. It was warm and safe. And soon enough, the round ended.

[conellu]

Hiii, could I request a namgyu x reader fic. where nam gyu and reader being on oposing sides (her being on the gin hun team) but after he loses his drugs, for some reason he just starts desprately latching onto her? thanks

Is It Over (Why Dont You Kill Me)AO3 Writing blog @conelluwrites Words: 2,7k Warnings: Platonic Dae-ho x reader, withdrawal, no smut. Nam-gyu is referred as 'Player 124' until he tells her his name. Other: Nam-gyu is a pathetic wet dog here, please let him in and clean him up. Gi-hun's team was mostly evaporated by the start of this fic. I also watched this gif in another window the entire time I wrote while listening to City and Colour's cover of Hop A Plane hah... Didn't wanna make it angst so the ending does feel a lil abrupt, I'm sorry.

After the rebellion failed, the team she had come to find comfort in was looking barren.  Gi-hun was handcuffed, Jung-bae was dead, Young-il didn’t return, and Dae-ho was… Well…  he was stuffing his face full of food.  She thinks it’s stress eating, but she doesn’t bring it up- what is she supposed to say anyway that won’t sound insensitive and vitriolic?  She sits next to him taking significantly smaller bites of her food while trying to ignore the way that Gi-hun stares daggers at him.  She knows where his anger stems from, she was there when Yong-sik said Dae-ho froze up and didn’t bring the ammo.  She looks around the increasingly less populated room and spots Player 124 looking at her.  He doesn’t look angry, doesn’t seem like he’s feeling much of anything.  Maybe he’s just zoned out or something?  It wouldn’t shock her, to be honest.  She looks away from him and focuses back on finishing her meal.

The next game’s set up is easy enough to understand- two teams, red team being the seekers and blue team being the hiders.  She was one of the first people to twist the machine’s crank.  She holds her breath while closing her eyes, letting the ball fall into her hands.  She opens them slowly- it was blue.  She turns around and holds it up to Dae-ho, who’s in the far back, before going to the blue side.  Dae-ho also gets a blue colored ball and stands next to her.  He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t need to, he just exhales a shaking breath and nods to her.  She hardly pays attention as the other players draw their balls, catching Player 124’s eyes before the eye contact breaks.  It’s easy enough to put off as an accident, so she doesn’t think about it too heavily as he walks over to the red side.  Her brain is too preoccupied with what’s next, what could possibly happen to them.  Red .  Gi-hun draws the final ball and it’s red.  She feels Dae-ho tense up drastically beside her, his hand knocking against hers.

Keys and knives.  The boxes provided to the blue team contain a key, the boxes provided to the red team contain knives.  Her stomach drops and she looks up at Dae-ho who glances nervously to his side to see Gi-hun staring at him.  She looks back down at the box, pulling the necklace out and placing it around her neck.  She knows she needs to offer some sort of comforting words to him, say literally anything, but any words die on her tongue.  When they’re told they can switch sides, she weighs her options heavily.  Wait out the time, or potentially find the exit versus having to kill someone.  She sighs heavily, sitting down and fidgeting with the box.  Her ears find his voice quickly, Players 124 and 125 are pretty close to her after all.  She doesn’t look over to the pair, but she listens in.

“You could always switch with that girl.”  Player 124 says, pointing over to her with the knife in his hand, “c’mon, a thing like you killing someone?  Laughable.  We gotta stick together, Min-su .” 

Player 125, rather Min-su, looks over to her before returning to Player 124.  He doesn’t speak, at least not with any volume that registers in her ears.

She looks around the room, not caring enough to listen to the rest of their conversation.  Dae-ho is frantically trying to convince a red player to switch with him but it doesn’t seem to be going too well.  If someone like Dae-ho can’t convince someone to switch, then she has no chance.  Slouching slightly, she shakes her head.  No use in focusing on what she can’t change, she needs to focus on what she can do.

The main room is claustrophobic, especially with all the blue team players crowded in it.  The slam of the doors behind her makes her jump and she turns out instinctively despite knowing what that noise is. 

Two minutes.

She thinks about sticking around Dae-ho, but he takes off in a direction without saying a word.  She could follow him, but she would just be dragging him down.  She gives herself a second to freak out in her head before choosing a random hallway.  Focus on finding a far away room, focus on finding the exit, focus on lasting the 30 minutes.

“Fuck.”  She mutters under the breath.  Her key doesn’t fit in the door.  She gives a glance to the lock- circle- then a glance to her key- square.  Goddammit, of course it wouldn’t be as easy as all the doors being unlockable by everyone.  She hears the audio cue to the seekers to start prowling and she feels panic set in. She’s a reasonable distance away from the start, she thinks so at least, but she’s alone.  Even Jun-hee seemed to have a team behind her.  She can’t afford to give up when it’s not even a minute into the game.  She takes off into another direction, hoping she’s not going to run into a red vest.  This continues on- finding a door, can’t unlock it, move on or finding a door, going up or down steps, and moving on.  Of course some fo the doors lead ot fucking nowhere, opening out into a big drop.

She can hear that obnoxious, grating laughter from a mile away.  His laughter, his voice floods her ears before her heart starts to pound so wildly that it blocks out all other noise.  No, no, no… She tries another door but it fails.  She can practically feel the shred of the knife going through her, feel her warm blood cooling on her skin.  She looks behind her and sees the briefest hint of a red vest and black hair behind a wall and she goes the opposite direction.   Her footsteps alert him though and she panics harder, she’s not quick enough to avoid his line of sight.  For a moment, for what feels like forever, they just stare at each other.  Then a sinister grin spreads over his lips before he raises a finger up to his lips in a shooshing motion and then fucking skips away.  She can’t hear the words he says to whoever the hell he’s with, her anxiety too high to process anything other than the fact she could have just died.  She barely registers anything when the audio of Player 388 being eliminated and Player 456 passing.

When it does hit her, she feels sick.  She knows she needs to focus on staying alive but she can’t help but wonder about her friend’s final moments being spent with a teammate… ex-teammate…  Was it quick?  Was it slow?  Shelooks down at her hands as they tremble.  She doesn’t want to think about it, she can’t bring herself to stop going through her memories of Dae-ho.  The following minutes just feel like autopilot- running when she needs to, hiding when she needs to, she even manages to collect another key from a corpse.

The dormitory is nowhere near as full as it once was as she walks to her bunk.  She glances around, trying to figure out what platers passed and which players were eliminated but her thoughts are interrupted as Player 124 starts to freak out.  Something about him losing a… thing…? in the hide and seek rooms.  He goes to grab the fucking gun from one of the triangle masks, piquing her interest even more.  Of course he doesn’t get the gun and is slammed to the ground, the gun then getting pointed at him before there’s a cry.  A… Cry?  Her head jerks away from Player 124 and towards the door.  Jun-hee had her baby.  She feels a sharp hit of protectiveness before it dwindles to nothing- she’s not strong enough to protect a new mother or a newborn, she’s barely strong enough to protect herself when it comes to the remaining players.

The time moves by surprisingly quickly, she spends the time zoned out before there’s a tap on her shoulder.

“Hey, look, I don’t usually do this but can I sit with you?”  Player 124 stammers out so shakily that she almost asks him to repeat himself but he does it on his own accord, “can I sit with you?”  He’s a fucking mess, blood on his face and hands, his jacket isn’t even on him and he’s breathing so hard that the rise and fall of his shoulders is incredibly visible.  She nods slowly before scooting over, giving him ample room.  He doesn’t offer her a thanks, hell he doesn’t say anything.  He just sits down and runs his fingers through his greasy air before wiping his sweating face.

“Are you okay?”  Her voice is quiet, just audible to Player 124.  He jumps at the sound of her voice as if he was so lost that he forgot she was there.  She feels her eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Wha- yeah, obviously I’m fine.  So fucking fine.”  He snaps before shaking his head and sighing.  “Look- it- I’m sorry for snapping at you.”  He says, his voice quieter and more subdued.

“What’d you lose in there?”

“This damn, uh, this damn necklace.”  He says, making a motion around his neck to show where it’d be. “It was Thanos’s but he died and I- I took it.  It has these pills in it, see, and I need them.  I need them so I can operate and function and I just…”  He trails off, knowing that he has to sound like some drug addict, which he can’t deny.  His words are all jumbled together and stuttering, he’s sweating like it’s a million degrees even without his jacket, and

She’s silent as she tries to soak in his words without overstepping her boundaries by asking for more information.  It’s a lot to take in all at once, but she understands the basics.  She wants to apologize, but she knows it’ll ring hollow.

“Goddammit don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence stretches between them before he rests his head on her shoulder, making her body tense up at the sudden contact.  Even between her and Dae-ho contact was severely limited and now this new guy comes over and rests his head on her?  She’s not strictly opposed, though like everyone else in this place he could go for a hair washing and shower.  She breathes out slowly to force her body to relax.

“Don’t apologize, dumbass.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  I’m just- It’s just- I’m scared, man.”  The last part, the part where he admits to being scared, is so damn quiet that she can barely hear him.  “Look, my hands are already fuckin’ shaking.”  He says, holding up his hand for her to see.  His hand is trembling like a damn leaf.  “Guess that bitch wasn’t wrong when she called me Mr. Shaky Hands or whatever.”

She nods, unsure of who that bitch is- presumably someone on his team that he had lost.

“What’s your name?  I’ll feel weird just calling you ‘Player 124’ in my head.”

“Nam-gyu.  Use it.  I’m not just a damn player.”  He says, clenching his shaking hand up tight.

“Nam-gyu.”  She repeats, committing it to memory the best she can before she introduces herself.  He nods his head, adjusting himself so he’s more or less curled up at her side as she slowly lies back on the bunk.  He’s warm, almost disgustingly so, but she doesn’t shove him away.  It’s the least she can do for giving her a break during the last game.

She can feel his body tense, relax, and tremble in a cycle like he’s trying his damn hardest to calm down but he’s just unable to.  “Look up at me, let me at least clean off your face, okay?”  Her voice is soothing and steady, a sharp contrast to his own voice.  “You’re a mess, let me do this for you.”

He grunts in response, looking up at her before closing his eyes as she tugs at her jacket sleeve until it’s over her hand.  He feels the contact of the soft track jacket and flinches away before settling back into her touches.  The blood wipes away as she pours water on the sleeve, wipes, and repeats.  It takes some effort, but he’s relatively clean when she’s done.

They settle back on the bunk, she has an arm tucked behind her head and the other is around Nam-gyu’s shoulders to hold him closer to her body.  She knocks her foot against his, rubs soothing circles on his shoulder, and hums.  It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst all the anxiety she’s been facing.

“Why’d you not kill me earlier?”

“You didn’t deserve it.  A thing like you getting stabbed by me and that dickhead Myung-gi… What a sorry way to go.”

“Oh.”

Silence, then she adds, “thank you.”  The silence that encapsulates them isn’t uncomfortable, nor does she want to break it.  He puts an arm over her abdomen and rubs her side, his hand under her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin- to remind him that he’s not alone.

When it’s almost lights out, he goes to get up before she grabs his hand and tugs him back down.

“Stay here, okay?  You don’t gotta go back to your own bunk.  Stay here… please ?  I don’t wanna be alone.”  She appeals more to his ego with her please , she figures it’ll be easier to get him to agree that way than if she sat and insisted that he needed to stay for his own good.

“Yeah, sure.”  He says, tugging the thin blanket over both of them.  He’s not used to being the one getting held, but it feels damn nice.  The way her fingers run through his hair, her other hand rubbing up and down the length of his arm from his wrist to his elbow.  Her eyes are closed, but she’s not asleep yet.  She’s waiting for him to fall asleep, and sleep comes fast for him. 

It’s not a restful sleep, he makes various noises, twists and turns to the point she nearly falls from her bunk, but she makes sure she keeps some part of ehr body touching his.  Be it from her spooning him or her foot grazing his leg, she wants him to know he’s not alone even in his sleep.

When she wakes up to the damn music she feels a weight on her and pushes it off.  But the weight just holds her tighter, nuzzling up into her neck.  It takes her a moment to blink away the last incoherent tired thoughts before she realizes it’s just Nam-gyu.  He groans something in response as she tries to sit up, it’s inaudible though.

“C’mon, we gotta get this done.”  She says, hesitating before placing a kiss to the crown of his head.  “We got this if we do it together, yeah?  I got you. You’re not alone .”

He doesn’t respond back, he’s not about to get sappier than he already let himself get last night.  But her words do mean a lot to him, more than he’ll ever admit even to himself.  It’s a bittersweet feeling, he can’t help but wonder what life would have been like if they had met sooner.  Either outside of the games or within it, he’s sure she would have been his lucky charm.

Everything was so damn fast, Min-su taunting Nam-gyu and then tossing the necklace over to the bridge where it lands.  The mechanical creaking of the rope feels her ears and within seconds she’s back next to Nam-gyu who’s looking increasingly anxious as if he’s debating just running for it.

“Nam-gyu, don’t.”  She says, tugging his jacket and forcing his attention to turn back towards her.  “If you’re gonna get it, don’t be an idiot.  Grab it and make it across to the end.  It’s just jump rope, you can do this.”  She continues, “you don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to be alone.  Let’s do this together.”

He looks conflicted as he looks back to where Min-su threw the cross necklace before he reluctantly nods and takes a step forward while pushing her behind him.  He’s got this.  He’s got this if he has her.  It’s just jump rope.

[kirisjournal]

🧢 proof in pressure

| call of duty masterlist | tf141 masterlist | main masterlist | navigation |

call of duty: gaz x male!reader

summary: you’re new to the task force selection pool—quiet, sharp, and already drawing stares. gaz notices you the way he notices all potential—silently, carefully. after your third evaluation, he challenges you to a spar. it’s not about winning. it’s about recognition. when it ends, neither of you is down—but something’s shifted. maybe not trust. not yet. but the start of it.

setting: a british training facility, all steel beams and scuffed mats. filtered sun through dirty skylights. the quiet tension of a room full of men pretending they’re not watching everything unfold.

warnings: lowercase prose, male!reader, military setting, task force selection, slow burn rivalry-to-something, mutual respect, tension in the ring, sharp silences, sweat-soaked trust, no y/n used

word count: 0.8k

note: this is for the ones who don’t speak first. the ones who prove themselves in silence, breath, and bruises. this story is thick with tension—the kind that doesn’t snap, but simmers. i wrote this with your heartbeat in my ear and your gloves on the mat. thank you for reading ♡

my inbox is always open for anyone ♡♡

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

they don’t quite know what to do with you.

you’re new to the task force selection pool—a name freshly stamped on the roster, slotted between men with longer histories and louder reputations. you arrived without ceremony. no flashy intro, no stories passed around the bunks. just your gear, your silence, and a file full of combat evaluations marked with too many redacted lines.

still, it doesn’t take long for your presence to carve itself into the training facility.

you’re quiet. not in a shy way. it’s quieter than that. quieter like deep water. like the kind of silence you keep sharpened beneath your ribs. you don’t talk unless someone gives you a reason. and even then—your eyes do most of the work.

they all notice. not just because of how quiet you are—but how clean you move. hand-to-hand drills don’t look like drills when you step onto the mat. they look like necessity. like instinct trimmed down to its most violent edge. you don’t dance around opponents. you press into them. smother them. control the breath right out of their lungs before they know they’ve given it up.

after your second evaluation, people stop whispering and start watching.

and someone else watches, too.

gaz.

you know him. not personally—but in the way everyone knows him. the sergeant who doesn’t say much but never misses anything. always somewhere in the background. always watching the selection pool with arms crossed and eyes narrowed, like he’s assembling a puzzle piece by piece.

and today, he watches you.

you feel it the moment you get off the mat, your third match finished—your opponent flat on their back, groaning something halfway between disbelief and pain. you don’t show off. don’t gloat. just catch your breath and run a hand down your neck, wiping sweat onto the collar of your shirt..

and that’s when he speaks.

“you’re fast.”

you turn toward the voice. don’t flinch. don’t smile. just arch a brow and find him leaning casually against one of the load-bearing columns, his silhouette framed in dusty overhead light.

“you offering critique?” you ask, voice rough from exertion.

he gives a faint shrug. half a smile. “offering a spar.”

that… surprises you.

not because of the challenge itself, but because of who it’s coming from. this isn’t some candidate trying to prove themselves. this is gaz. the one whose nods make the difference between maybe and you’re in.

you don’t answer with words. just hold his gaze a second longer. then tilt your head toward the mat.

and that’s all it takes.

the mood in the room shifts.

a few of the other recruits catch on right away. one elbow nudges another. a whispered “holy shit, is that Gaz?” floats across the space. within seconds, the room starts to shift—trainees drifting in from the adjoining bay, slowing their cooldown drills, subtly circling the sparring mat like moths to a low-burning flame.

you notice. so does gaz.

neither of you acknowledges it.

you step onto the mat, jaw set, shoulders loose. gaz joins you, mirroring your stance with something quieter than confidence—more like precision wrapped in muscle and breath. he raises his hands. so do you.

and then—

movement.

you clash like magnets. controlled and brutal, every strike deliberate. your arms tangle. legs hook. gaz is quicker than you anticipated—fluid, sharp. you counter with force honed from fights that didn’t take place in any training facility. your elbow grazes his ribs. his knee nearly clips your thigh. your breath comes faster. sweat beads along your brow.

the crowd around you grows. murmurs ripple. but the world narrows.

you don’t see them. just him. just the next move. the next shift. the next place to land, to block, to break.

you grapple. twist. fall into a rhythm that feels less like competition and more like understanding. not a test of strength, but of awareness. survival. control.

when the spar ends, neither of you is on the ground. both breathing heavy. both slick with sweat and steel-eyed.

there’s no clear winner.

and maybe that’s the point.

gaz steps forward, claps a hand to your shoulder. it’s firm. solid.

“you fight like a damn ghost,” he says, almost breathless. almost… impressed.

you glance at him, chest still heaving. “you talk a lot.”

he laughs. and it’s real—low and rough and a little warm, the kind of sound that softens around the edges when you’ve earned it.

the crowd slowly begins to disperse, a few muttering things like “did you see that?” and “closest thing to a brawl we’ve had all month.” but you don’t pay them any mind. not really.

you step off the mat. reach for your towel. it’s warm from the sun, already damp from earlier drills. you toss it over your shoulder, slow and steady as you dry your face, then toss it again—this time onto the bench with a soft, final thud.

you don’t look back.

but you know he’s still watching.

and something inside you—something ragged, something old—settles a little. not peace. not yet.

but maybe… the start of it.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

[dorasoracle]

ice skating partners evan and regulus, who started really young around four-five. They have the STRONGEST chemistry since childhood ( evan and his passion, regulus and his precision, they were unstoppable ). Growing up they were more complex, they are siblings, a couple, each other worst enemy and best friends.

Evan was the one who hated Sirius the most, because he admired that boy almost as much as regulus did, but the day he left Evan saw the spine of regulus getting more and more straight, how pressure now is only on regulus ( who was talented as and even more than Sirius, but Blacks don't praise their kids they usually only criticize them ). Regulus who knew Evan hated skating at first, he joined only because Pandora brought him there ( their parents were lazy, the twins could do only a sport because they didn't want to move too much for their children ). Through Dora who was Evan's first parther in iceskating ( the twins there inseparable to morbid levels at times ), Evan met Regulus (who sometimes trained with Pandora ), they were paired because one day Dora had an injury and couldn't compete and their performance was so good that their coaches decided to transform them into a duo from then on. ( to be clean Pandora continued as a solo ice skater, Evan and Regulus instead continued as a duo. )

Evan was the first who regulus told about his gender, evan didn't flitch a second, regulus was his partner girl or boy, it was always regulus. At eighteen regulus decided to do the chest surgery, he left ice skating after a competition without a word. Regulus disappeared, Evan didn't even try to search for a new partner, evan's one was and will be only regulus ( evan preferred compete alone instead of trying with other people ) .

After a year and some months, Regulus returned, with a new look, shorter hair, sharper features, a stronger french accent ( he lived in Giverny, with no contact with London or his family / friends or his sport ). Evan didn't try to contact him, he didn't talk about Regulus in interviews while regulus disappeared, he knew that if Regulus wanted to be found he would make it known.

Almost other few months from Regulus comeback, Evan and him met again in their childhood skating rink, and from that on they decided to restart competing together ( people cheered and their competitors cried because their duo was a common fear ). They still have their problems, Evan still has fear that Regulus would disappear again, Regulus fears Evan would find someone else.

They are still complex not a couple but neither are just friends. Regulus dated some boys but they all thought his link with Evan was too much. Evan tried with people but for the same reason they left him. At the end Evan and Regulus remained what they were, a complex duo, but no one of them two would change it.

based heavily on Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir

[writing-girlie]

Full Throttle

Pairing: Ruben Cervantes x fem F1driver! Reader

Blurb: He didn’t wait for permission—he just made her his. On the track and off it.

WC:1.7k

Warnings: Smut, Oral (f!receiving), Power dynamics?

You kept your headphones on as you walked through the paddock, focusing on yourself. It normally deterred people from talking to you but it didn't stop them from watching. 

There was always something. A new headline. A new rumour. A new theory about whose bed you were warming this week. You'd never dared to even try but that didn't matter. 

You were the only woman on the grid. And apparently, that meant you didn’t get to just drive. No matter what you did –every lap, every overtake, every point finish– none of it mattered too much. 

No matter what you did, you were either too quiet and too serious or you were flirty and too soft. Every move you made was up for interpretation. Then there were the jealous F1 fans; they said you slept your way onto the grid while they picked apart every mistake. 

You just stayed focused, trying your best to respond with results. 

Your teammate had already been re-signed despite sitting on half your points. He was a safe option–easy with the press, popular, and just good enough. Meanwhile, your future was still “under review” like they hadn't noticed you carrying the team. Then came the speculation about you being replaced, the possible drivers, and when it would happen. 

No matter what was said–by the media, by the fans, even by your own team–there was one person who always encouraged you.

Ruben.

You didn’t drive for him. There was no professional reason for him to care but he did. A compliment in the form of a note or message was always waiting for you after a race. It started slowly after a few of them. A few late-night conversations in the paddock. Then one night it shifted, he invited you to his hotel room and you happily obliged. After that, it became routine. Every race week you'd be in his room, at least once. 

It's Wednesday afternoon, and you've just touched down in a rainy Belgium ahead of the GP. When you check your phone on the ride to the hotel you see that your team principal had gone on record in the morning –“We’re exploring all our options going into next season. Nothing’s final yet.”

And the headlines followed:

“Team Considers Stronger Lineup for Next Year”

“Is Her Time on the Grid Coming to an End?”

"Rising Star or One-Season Story?"

When you arrived at the hotel you spent the time by yourself with a gym session, a bath, and dinner. You let your eyes close before your phone's message tone disturbs your peace. 

Ruben: Room 1103

You stared at the message wondering if you were even up for it. After a moment you got up, grabbed your key card and went up. When you knocked the door open immediately. Ruben didn’t say anything, he just stepped aside, giving you space to walk in. The room smelled faintly like coffee and cleaning products. One lamp was on, casting a soft warm glow across the room. 

You set your phone and keycard down on the side table like always and before you could take another breath, his hand was on the back of your neck. He stepped closer, and guided you closer, into a soft hug. His other arm wrapped around your back. You let your head rest against his chest and closed your eyes. You weren't unsure anymore, seeing him was enough to know that you needed to fuck him tonight. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your voice soft but clear.

“I need you.” His eyes searched yours. You slid your hand beneath the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing warm skin.  “Now” His hand dropped to your hip, firm and familiar, as he began to walk, guiding you back until your knees met the bed.

He kneels between your thighs and grabs your waistband, pulling down the shorts and panties in a swift motion. His hands trace up over your legs, tracing over the tight muscles, curling around the back of your knees to coax them apart. 

You couldn’t look away from him. The way he settled between your legs like he belonged there. The way he held your thighs in his hands, spreading them open, adjusting you like you were something delicate he didn’t want to break.

When his mouth finally touched you, it was almost too soft, just a gentle kiss, his lips barely brushing over your folds. It made you gasp anyway. He did it again, a little firmer, and again, slower. 

Then he flattened his tongue and dragged it slowly up your center. You let out a shaky breath. His hands slid up to your hips, anchoring you in place as his tongue circled lazily, dipping just inside before moving back up to your clit, where he started working you in steady, deliberate flicks. It made your thighs twitch and your fingers curl in the sheets.

“Fuck-” you breathed, voice barely more than a whisper. He hummed against you and the vibration made your legs press tighter around his shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind. One hand slid down, thumb stroking the inside of your thigh as the other gently urged your hips closer to his mouth. He kept his pace slow, cruel, almost, like he was savoring every second. Like he could do this for hours.

His tongue traced slow circles over your clit, light pressure giving way to sudden, firm licks that made your hips jolt. Every time you tried to move, tried to chase the rhythm, he’d slow down again, teasing you until you were shaking, gasping, and biting your lip to lessen the noise.

Your hands found his hair, gripping gently at first but as the pressure inside you built, your fingers twisted tighter. He groaned into you again and the sound made something snap.

“Ruben-” you moaned, your voice breaking. “Please…” He looked up just enough to meet your eyes.

“I know,” he said, low and warm, lips slick, voice steady. “I’ve got you.” He didn’t stop this time. He slid two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right as he flattened his tongue against your clit, licking in slow, confident strokes. The pressure inside you coiled sharp and fast. His mouth, his fingers, the way he kept one hand on your hip, grounding you while he ruined you all added to the building pressure. 

Your head fell back against the fluffy quilt as your body clenched around his fingers. You came with a soft, desperate cry, hands gripping his hair, body writhing under his touch. His tongue didn't stop until your hips stopped twitching. He finally pulled back, kissing the inside of your thigh gently, before getting up. 

Your chest was still rising and falling in uneven breaths as you sat up. He already looked wrecked but in the best way –flushed cheeks, lips swollen, eyes dark but calm.

He reached up, brushing a piece of hair from your face, fingers dragging gently along your temple.

“Take it off” he says, nodding at your shirt. When you start, so does he, removing clothes until you're both naked. You instinctively spread your thighs giving Ruben space to stand. He tells you to lay further on the bed and he follows, holding himself above you. He didn’t kiss you, he just looked at you, as he settled.

“You’ve done everything they asked of you” he said, low. “Carried that team, scored more points than anyone expected and how do they thank you?” He ran the head of his cock through your folds, dragging it slow over your pussy, teasing your entrance but not pushing in.

“They hang your future on a press quote. Saying it's ‘under review.’” You gasped when he pushed the tip inside. Just enough to stretch you then stopped. “Mid-season” he murmured, brushing his lips along your throat. “I’m dropping Luca mid-season.” Your head snapped back, but he pushed deeper, silencing your reaction with the stretch of him, filling you inch by inch.

“You're- what?” your eyes drift to the side but he gripped your jaw and forced your eyes back to him. 

“I’ve watched you carry a shit car all year while they treat you like a PR problem. You’re going to drive for me” he said through gritted teeth. Your fingers clawed at the sheets, your whole body tightening around him.

“Fuck- Ruben! You-” Your words fell apart as he bottomed out with one slow, deliberate thrust. His hips rolled, pulling out partway before slamming into you again.

“You’re wasting your talent with them.” Another thrust. “They don’t deserve you.” Another. “But I do.” You cried out, your back arching off the bed as he set a brutal rhythm, thrusting deep with every word. “I’ve watched you give everything,” he hissed, sweat sliding down his temple, one hand locking around your wrist and pinning it above your head. “I’ve watched them take and take and treat you like a fucking placeholder.”

Your moans turned desperate, your body caught between pain and pleasure as he drove into you harder. The sound of your skin coming together filled the room, drowning out the rain outside,along with your gasps, and whimpers. He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear.

“You could belong to me. You want that?” You tightened around him, his gruff voice from his bared teeth and the groans adding to to attraction. 

“You belong to me” That snapped something in you. The way he said it was like a promise. Your body shook as your second orgasm tore through you, raw and overwhelming, your walls fluttering around him. 

He cursed, and worked on moving faster, chasing his own high. The rhythm turned rough, and relentless. Your brain felt like it was going cloudy.

“Say it,” he breathed, barely holding on. “Say you’ll drive for me.” You moaned, still twitching under him. 

“I’ll drive for you.”

“Say it again.”

“I’ll drive for you,” you gasped, eyes locked with his. “Ruben, fuck, I want that seat.” His hips jerked once, twice, and then he came hard, spilling inside you, his entire body trembling above yours. You felt it fill you, warm and deep. 

He didn’t pull out. He didn’t even move. He just braced himself with his forearms beside your head, his mouth brushing your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I already made the call,” he whispered eventually, voice rough. “You can be on the grid in my car soon as you want. Contract’s done. All that’s left is your signature.”

“You decided this without asking?” He pulled back to look at you.

“You were always mine.” He kisses you and starts to move again, slow rolls of the hips. 

[ananonymousbirb]

im not going to be cleaning up the lines bc im busy ^^”

so some inaccuracies are.. just an accident

But ummm quick ramble, I started sketching this during the stream sweet dream part 1, and then Jet temporarily stopped streaming and I started switching between the other streams instead

and it was like 4 am at that point so I fell asleep during the mellohizz - five girlnadian wedding and missed the entire part 2 stream from Jet so I wake up and see fraudsteal angsting on tumblr aaaand so this fanart feels a little late

buuuut anyway!!

A bit on the art.. the arrow is an invis arrow because Jet really likes those for some reason. One thing is that they’re both kind of using the weapons “incorrectly” in that:

Jet is holding the bow wayyy to close to its target. If it shoots here, it risks damaging its bow and also breaking the arrow and injuring itself.

Oz Mangocurist is holding his sword in reverse grip, which severely limits his range and the strength he can put into any attack.

sorry I’m a bit of a nerd about weapons

so the reason I drew them that way is to kind of.. show the performative nature of it all? These are things that happen often in media, but historical fighters typically wouldn’t do. It’s a performance, and neither of them intend to actually hurt each other.

So yea :3 I’m still really sad over the part 2 vod by the way 💔

jet said to tag u guys so umm hi @mangocurist and @jumped-for-the-yaoi !! ><

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station

[beneathsilverstars]

guys i think my depression meds are working

[bmpmp3]

it is insane how much about how music and music theory works i learned because of vocal synthesizers tho. like im not Actually Knowledgeable dont get me wrong but you have to understand. ive failed out of music class thrice before i picked up utau in 2020. Thrice. and now i know what a time signature is! maybe <3