#only to find that the chest was literally in my back yard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 18 days ago

Text

a/n: holiday fic #2 and william fic # 3 in the last few weeks 😭 this fic was wholly inspired by his commercial because i couldn’t stop imagining his difficulty putting UP the lights it that’s how he reacted to taking them down 😂 i know the fic takes place in november and is getting posted in december but fuck it we ball. anyway, i hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 2.4k

tw: dirty talk, innuendo

summary: it’s only november, but you insist on taking advantage of william’s presence by having him help put up the outside lights

Toronto weather can be unpredictable, which is why you’re fully taking advantage of the warm front that’s gracing the area to start putting up the outside Christmas decorations.

Yes, it’s only November 1st, but it could snow literally next weekend and then you’d be shit out of luck.

Plus, William is off for the next two days, minus practice, so you have to take advantage of the extra pair of hands.

“Älskling,” William murmurs, hands on your waist and lips on your neck, “we could do something more fun than hanging lights.”

You lean back against his chest, your fingers working to unknot a string of lights. His hips work lazily against yours, the bulge of his cock obvious against your ass. Especially when he pulls you close and holds you firmly in place to grind against your ass.

“Mmm,” you hum, shivers running down your spine with each rasp of his beard against your skin. “We can do that later. I want the lights up before the weather starts to suck.”

William’s mouth turns up in a smirk against your neck and his fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. “How about we skip the lights and I suck on your clit until you see stars instead?” He huffs a laugh against your skin, ruffling your hair, and nips a little mark on your neck.

Your nipples pebble tightly and you suck in a shaky breath through your teeth. William’s words combined with the steady, rocking pressure of his cock against your ass are overwhelming. Abandoning the lights and with a more steady voice than you thought you were capable of, you turn in William’s arms so your ass is leaning against the counter and you can look into his eyes to say, “if you help me with the outside decorations, I’ll suck your dick until you beg for mercy.”

William’s throat bobs as he swallows, his blue eyes turning dark. He whines a little, pulling you close and burying his face in your hair. “You drive a hard bargain, älskling,” he grunts. With one final kiss below your ear, William pulls away and smirks at you, “hand me the lights.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” you chirp, pushing the bundle of lights into his arms with a bright smile.

Your boyfriend laughs and mutters, “only for you,” before wandering off to find his boots and a jacket.

Maybe buying a house in the beginning of the season wasn’t the smartest idea, since you’d been left on your own to unpack the contents of two apartments and decorate, but now that you’re settled in, it’s nice to have the room. Pablo and Bansky love the yard and running around the open concept first floor. William’s had fun christening the house by having sex with you on every available surface.

Besides the sex, your favorite part of the new house is the wrap around porch with its room for oversized outdoor couches and armchairs - the perfect place to curl up on a gorgeous Toronto fall day with a mug of coffee and people watch.

You’re beyond excited to get the outside of the house decorated for the holidays. You have big plans that are likely bordering on delusions of grandeur, but you’ll deal with that if and when it comes.

Right now, you’re focusing on wrapping the extra long fake pine garland you’d bought to wrap around the porch railing with lights. You settle everything on the floor and drop into a cross-legged position to twist the lights and garland together. Pablo pads over with a stuffed dragon in his mouth and settles at your side, one paw on your thigh.

“Hi, buddy,” you murmur, scratching at his ears. “Where’s your brother?”

“Fuck, Banksy, no!” William’s shout carries through the screen door and you press your lips together to smother a laugh. Found him.

There’s half a dozen things the other dog could’ve gotten into, you just hope neither he nor William is hurt. You can hear a bark and William laughing which is probably a sign that everything is fine out there, so you return to your work on the lights and garland.

“You picked the better decorations to help with, Pablo,” you laugh, stroking the dog’s soft fur for a few minutes before returning to twisting the lights and garland back together. Pablo yawns and chews at his toy, clearly agreeing with you.

It doesn’t take too long for you to get the dozens of feet of garland ready to be hung. The faux greenery coils across the floor and Pablo’s batting at it with his paws, yipping excitedly. Whenever you try and tug it away, he lunges for it, totally all-in on this new fun game.

“Okay, cool it,” you sigh, tugging at his collar to get him to disengage with the garland. “William!” You shout for him through the door, needing him to come and help you get the garland outside.

“Little busy!” He shouts back, followed by a string of curses. “Can you whistle for Banksy? He’s right up my ass and it’s making this harder.”

You whistle for the other dog, calling his name and clapping until he comes trotting into the house with a delighted little bark. You drop to your knees and scratch his head too, cooing, “hi there baby, were you driving Daddy crazy outside?”

“These lights are driving Daddy crazy,” William shouts on a laugh.

“Don’t refer to yourself as Daddy,” you reply. “It’s weird.”

William’s head appears at the screen door, a shit eating grin splitting his face. “That’s not what you were saying the other night,” he reminds you as heat rises in your chest and cheeks. “I think I remember the exact opposite coming out of that mouth of yours.”

“I was delusional,” you cross your arms. “I had no idea what I was saying. Come take this garland.”

He comes inside, grabbing the garland off the floor, saying, “want me to remind you? Let’s see, there was ‘fuck, harder, Daddy’ and ‘come inside me, Daddy.’ Not to mention all of the pretty noises you were making.”

Arousal pools low in your belly, slicking your underwear. Your clit twitches and you cough to hide your sharp intake of breath. One of the dogs licks at your ankle, but you’re laser focused on William and the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

Smirking, he continues, “does that jog your memory, älskling? Or do you need a more hands-on reminder?”

He takes a step towards you and accidentally steps on a piece of the garland, fake pine needles crunching under his boot and reminding you what your plan for the day had been. You shake your head and narrow your eyes at him, “no way! You’re trying to distract me so you don’t have to help decorate.”

“Guilty,” William laughs, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He darts forward and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Is it working?”

Yes.

“No,” you murmur. “I want the house decorated and then we can do whatever you want after that. Otherwise, I’m going to have to get up on the ladder during the week.”

You poke your lower lip out at him in a pout and William chuckles. With his free hand, he reaches out and thumbs your lower lip, murmuring, “such a bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” you hum cheerfully, a smug little smile on your face. William kisses your puckered lips and gathers up the garland.

“At your command, my little brat,” he teases, sweeping out of the house with the garland and two dogs trailing after him.

“Thank you, karastë,” you shout after him, giggling.

You give up on any pretense of helping William with the outside decorations, instead heading for the kitchen to make cookies as a reward for him when he comes back inside. You experiment with a new to you recipe for oatmeal cookies with dried cranberries and white chocolate chips since it feels festive. While the mixer works, you dance absently at the counter to the constant stream of ABBA music playing in your head.

Your two favorite things to come out of Sweden are definitely the ‘70s band and the man outside hanging lights.

Once you pop the trays in the ovens, you decide to check in on William and see how everything is going.

“Oh!” You yelp, nearly stepping on your boyfriend. “What are you doing?”

He’s laid out on his stomach on the porch, head buried in his arms, lights tangled around his legs, and the dogs nowhere to be found. He groans and rolls onto his back to look up at you.

“I quit, I can’t do this, älskling,” he complains, kicking at the lights around his legs.

You cover your mouth to muffle a laugh. Taking a look around the porch, it does seem like William’s been defeated by the lights. The garland is on the porch railing, crookedly hanging off. The lights are uneven where they’re actually attached to the house and hanging off in most areas.

Squatting down next to him, you brush your hand through William’s hair, frowning sympathetically. “Maybe your talents don’t extend to outdoor decorating,” you murmur.

“The stupid shits don’t stay where they’re supposed to,” he grumbles. “I don’t care what it costs, pay someone to do it. Please.”

William pushes himself into a sitting position and tosses the lights off to the side, shaking his head and muttering to himself. You’ve never seen him this frazzled about something. Usually he’s calm, cool, and collected.

“I think you’ve earned the cookies I made,” you comment, standing up and stepping into his side. William wraps an arm around your shoulder and you nuzzle your nose against the flannel of his shirt.

“I’d rather the blow job,” William replies cheekily, yelping a laugh and jumping away from you when you pinch his side. “Ow, älskling, you promised!”

“Only if you hung the lights,” you gesture behind you at the carnage as you step back inside. “The quality of that job only gets you a dry hand job at best!”

“I’ll take it,” William deadpans, holding his expression for a second before bursting into laughter. It’s contagious and you start giggling too.

Still laughing, you lean your arms on the counter and shake your head. “You’re definitely not that desperate,” you murmur. But still, you curl your fingers loosely and give the air a few pumps, miming a hand job. “I could use some practice though, it’s been a minute since I made you fall apart with just my hands.”

William smirks at you and leans in across the counter. He raises an eyebrow and tracks the movement of your hand. “You know I’m not going to say no, love. You want to get those hands on me, you just have to ask,” he teases.

“Oh,” you drag the syllable out, “in that case…”

You step around the counter and into William’s space, your palms flat on his chest. “William,” you purr, smiling sweetly.

He hums, bringing his hands up to wrap around your wrists. He lifts each hand to his mouth, kissing your palms.

“Can I put…” you say slowly, “one of those giant Snoopy inflatables on the lawn?”

It takes a minute for your words to sink in and by the time it clicks in William’s brain, you’re laughing and dancing away from him.

“Hey!” He shouts your name on a laugh and gives chase, making you shriek every time he gets close. “Dirty trick, you little tease!”

William chases you into the living room and tumbles over the couch to catch you, pulling you flush against his chest, the both of you breathing hard. You’re laughing, gasping for air, and wriggling against him.

“Stop that,” he laughs, biting at your earlobe. “You, my love, have been a brat all day. It’s time for a little punishment.”

You can feel the bulge of his cock against your hip and your stomach flips with excitement. “What do you have in mind?” You ask, breathless with arousal.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” his voice is a low rumble, hands roaming over your stomach and breasts. “Starting with those lights outside.”

William captures both of your wrists in one big hand and holds them against your stomach. “Can’t have you moving when you’re getting a spanking,” he murmurs, kissing behind your ear.

Fresh heat pools in your stomach and your underwear are getting uncomfortably wet. You grind your ass back into William’s groin and he grunts, thrusting his hips forward.

Even just the thought of William tying you up has you creeping towards the edge, combined with the hard heat of his body at your back, you’re not sure you’ll last too long once he gets his hands on you.

“William,” you whimper, heat jackhammering in your chest with each press of his cock against the seam of your ass.

Any answer is drowned out by the sudden piercing shrill of the smoke alarm.

Acrid smoke hits your nose next.

You startle, realization that the cookies are burning like cold water to your system. You jump away from William, shouting about the cookies and grabbing an oven mitt to take the charred dough out of the oven.

William has the alarm turned off just as you’re tossing the ruined cookies in the trash.

You both stand in the kitchen, staring at each other in the sudden silence for a few heartbeats before bursting into laughter again. It’s that kind of crazed laughter that doesn’t stop, intensifying every time you look up and lock eyes with William.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, clutching your stomach. “Literally nothing has gone right today.”

You feel lightheaded from all the laughing, the faint haze of smoke still in the air.

William clears his throat and chuckles again. “How about we take the dogs and go out for dinner?” His eyes twinkle. “Wouldn’t want to risk burning down the house again.”

“I think that’s the best idea all day,” you agree, still laughing even as you gather up the dogs and load them into the car.

Later, while you’re eating dinner, you point out the lights that are strung up around the restaurant. With a cheeky smile, you comment, “maybe we should ask them who hung their lights? They did a good job.”

William just rolls his eyes at you and tosses a piece of bread in your direction.

Two days later, with William out of town for a game, you come back from work to find the entire outside of the house decorated and lit up. There’s even a Snoopy inflatable on the lawn.

Tears fill your eyes and your phone vibrates in your hand. You look down to see William’s text.

‘surprise, älskling! i love you, even if i never got that hand job 😂❤️‍🔥’

#william nylander #william nylander x reader #william nylander x you #william nylander fic #nhl fic

76 notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 2 months ago

Text

As we know, Oda made the original seven warlords all animal themed. With Doflamingo -duh- being a flamingo 🦩💖. But in this post I wanted to add the additional reasons I find it funny that my favorite warlord is indeed, a bird. Because most birds are chaotic, evil trainwrecks if you didn’t know! Do not be fooled by their elegant propaganda of the American bald eagle, peacock, and such.

Far more bird species are of the hissing/unpredictable/possessive/oversexed/homicidal/drama queen variety.

And as part of my example, I will be introducing my pet cockatiel! He is a male, lutino color variant. I took him to the avian vet recently to get a quick nail trim (he treats my arm like a bloodied ski slope with his little feet razors otherwise).

The likeness is uncanny, right? Spiked up blond hairdo and all. 🤣

But here is my rambling list below of why Doflamingo fits the bird theming beyond just his aesthetics. Note, all species are different. These are just generalities.

1. Birds are needy, attention whores. Realistically, this comes from wanting the attention and safety of their flock. And my bird gets plenty of out of cage time with us. But oh my god, sometimes if he hears me so much as sneeze and he can’t see me…WHY AM I IN THE HOUSE, BUT NOT WITH HIM!? WHY!? RED ALERT. He starts flock calling for me, and I must respond with at least a whistle or he will begin screaming. Because surely, someone must be murdering me if I don’t come to him immediately.

2. They are complete horndogs. Seriously, everyone thinks humping inappropriate things is a male dog exclusive problem. Nope. There are professional bird behaviorists that people literally pay to come teach them how to calm their pet birds’ sexual aggression and the nightmare that can become. You have to be mindful of how you interact with them, lest they start thinking YOU are their mate and begin attacking anyone else in the house who is not you. Because they are jealous. So jealous. I only pet/preen my bird on his head. As that is perfectly platonic flock behavior. But touching anywhere else (back or chest for example) can make them think it’s sexy time. Male birds will hump the utter hell out of “favorite” objects. Birds kept with others must be monitored that no one is getting ganged up on. But it happens in the wild too. Female ducks need pepper spray or self defense classes. I’ll just leave it at that.

3. They are murderous/violent, and easily overstimulated. So my bird weighs around 80 grams give or take. As an adult human, he’s not going to take me down anytime soon. But if he wanted to, he likely could bite me hard enough to go to the bone. He never has truly bitten me, but I watch his body language. He runs up wanting to be petted. Or sits on me long enough that he falls asleep. He likes to be together, but always on his terms. If I touched him too much, or when he didn’t want it, he’d definitely bite me. People have lost eyes to larger birds. People have had to have reconstructive surgery from parrot bites. They can crush whole nuts in their beak. So what do you think they’ll do to your face when they are sitting on your shoulder and suddenly get triggered (which they very easily are)? Humans have been drowned by swans. And forget it when it comes to something like the Cassowary. You’re already dead if they really wanted you to be.

4. They are opportunistic. Oh look, more murder! People think only birds of prey are the true meat eaters. But a pelican would eat you if it thought it could swallow you. Even the smallest birds have been observed killing other birds and small mammals if they can. Food is food. They are not cute to their victims. They are survivalists. No mercy. Ever. Some baby birds actually eat their own nestmates if one sibling is stronger than the others (sorry Rosi, there really was a precedent for that 😰).

5. They are territorial. And still more murder! In my own yard we have birdhouses made for Eastern bluebirds. They’re a species that legit benefits from human intervention as bluebirds will only nest in cavities, which they have less of now because of deforestation and competition with non native species taking said cavities. Non native species (for the US anyway) of the European house sparrow in particular. House sparrows are tiny. Smaller than a bluebird. But they will slaughter a bluebird family. All over territory during breeding season. They enter the bluebird nest and will peck even the adult bluebirds to death if they can catch them on the nest. They killed a male bluebird of ours this way. Now we put up “sparrow spookers” on our active bluebird nests once eggs are in the box. It’s just mylar streamers that blow in the wind, and the sparrows are afraid to fly through it. But every breeding season we have to go through this again. Basically Riku dynasty versus Donquixote dynasty in our backyard with the invading house sparrows.

And I could go on and on really, about greed, mood swings, vanity, etc. But you get the idea now. Murder, sex, and bright plumage. Heavy emphasis on the murder especially. He really is a bird in every sense of the word. 😅

Edit: Oh! And I forgot grudges! Some birds will hold a grudge for ages. Just ask a crow. I thought my bird would be over my betrayal of the vet visit by today. Nah. He’s still pissed. He won’t come to me right now. He fakes me out to offer my hand to him, then says, nah, bitch! And opens his mouth like he rather bite. It’ll be a few days I guess. 🤣 Never betray a Donquixote!

#donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #op doflamingo #doffy #doffy one piece #one piece #one piece doflamingo #one piece fandom #op doffy #doflamingo op #cockatiel #birds #birds of tumblr #shichibukai #warlord #birdlovers

68 notes · View notes

deadlynavigation · 2 years ago

Text

Satan's My Fuckbuddy

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Pairing: Blitzø x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, brief mention of smut in the beginning and end.

Author's Note: Sorry Lilith. More of this to come, guys. I may turn this into a series.

I do not own Helluva Boss. Pls don't come after me.

Do not copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works or their assets.

Navigation

"You know, you could've told me you and the big boss himself used to fuck," Blitzø pants, his head turning to look back at the city's firey ruins.

"Oh, sorry," you respond breathlessly, a sickly sweet smile spready across your face. "I wasn't aware that little bit of information would lead to us running from a burning city after almost being banned from everything Hell has to offer!" By the time you finish your rant, you're almost screaming, and Blitzø's put another foot of space between you two.

A boom sounds from behind you, followed by a large crash. "How many times have I told you-" your boss yells over the noise. "Sleeping with rich assholes that live six fucking rings down never ends well!"

"You think I listen to your rants about rich assholes?" You shout over another boom. A boom which sounded way too close for comfort, so you pick up the pace, Blitz doing the same.

You're almost to the elevator that will ship you back to Imp City. The isolated building that holds such transportation is in your line of sight, only a few yards or so away. And if your luck holds, you'll get there with minimal injuries-

It's too easy. Blitz's eyes widen as he realizes this, and turns over his shoulder to glance at the literal devil chasing you both.

Shit.

"Time to start sprinting, toots." Blitz turns back in a panic. Even from your peripheral vision, you can see his wide eyes and anxious expression, which prompts you to look where he had seconds ago.

What you see has you moving faster than you've ever moved before. Lucifer himself is on your tail, his devil form taking the place of his standard, human-like form. His feathered wings are spread, blocking the red sky from view. His horns are larger than usual, and his face could make any sinner fall to their knees.

Hot.

After a moment of staring at Lucifer in all his glory, you stop running. Your breaths slow and your heart stops trying to escape from your chest as you blink slowly in realization.

Blitz turns around once he notices the absense of your footfalls, only to find you completely still with Satan quickly catching up.

"Are you fucking insane?!" Your boss shrieks.

You shake your head. "Nope, just realistic. We're not gonna outrun the Devil. Why try and get in even more trouble with him?"

Blitz looks at you like you just said Moxxie was right about something. After he stands like that for a long second and comes to terms with your statement, he sighs, walking up to you as he rubs his forehead.

"If we get killed by this guy, you're paying for my next horse-riding lesson."

Your snarky response is droned out by Lucifer dropping to his feet in front of the both of you. He looks ready to rip every limb from your body and then feed them to the other's corpse, but he restrains himself, taking a deep breath and folding his wings in.

"Have you any idea what you've done, imp?" He says in a deep voice, his every syllable sending chills down your spine.

Blitz goes to respond, but you know him talking will only worsen the situation. So, you jump in, shoving a hand over your boss's mouth and speaking.

"Yes, My Lord. And from the bottoms of our hearts, we apologize, but we really must get going-"

Lucifer holds up a hand, commanding your silence. He blinks at you, tilting his head and furrowing his brows. His true form slowly melts away as he studies you.

"Y/n?" He questions softly, as though he thought he'd never see you again.

You purse your lips, half in fear, half in annoyance. Lucifer has always done things on his own time (not including his fall, of course), and that doesn't seem to have changed.

"Yup." You eventually force out. The Devil blinks one more before a smile starts to dawn on his face.

"Heyy, how've you been? Long time no see," And he brings you into a bro hug like you're long-lost friends and not past fuckbuddies.

"I've been great," you respond hesitantly once he releases you from the hug. Maybe being casual, playing it cool, will release you from the Devil's clutches. "Got another job, made some new friends. What about you?"

Lucifer beams with your reciprocation of friendliness. "Yes, I've heard of your developing social life. Al says hi, by the way. And life is great; Charlie's in on another project- I think it's a hotel -and no demons have caused an uproar. It's practically paradise."

"Good, good. Listen, it's been a good chat, but could we schedule for another time? I kinda have somewhere to be." It's not a lie- you do want to get home soon. Where there are no Satans chasing you down for small talk.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Do you still have that number? I'll text you the address of a nice little tea shop for next week."

"Looking forward to it," You laugh nervously and start backing away, grabbing Blitz while doing so. "All righty, I'll see you then!" And with that, you're off, walking as quickly as possible without running.

It's silent until you get into the huge elevator that'll ship you back to Imp City. Blitz is next to you, giving you a weird look.

"What?" You snap.

"Was he good in bed?"

"BliTZ-"

"Hey, he almost blew us up. I deserve an answer, at least."

You sigh. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes, it is." Your boss responds, slouching into his spot as though preparing to wait you out.

The elevator is quiet while your resolve holds for a solid two seconds.

"He did this thing-"

"Fuck yeah he did. He's Satan." Blitz interrupts.

You hit him with a glare. "Do you want this or not?"

"I do, I do. Sorry. Go on."

You stare at him a moment longer before continuing. "This thing with his hands-"

"I'd be disappointed if he didn't."

"BLITZ."

What do you think? Series or no? OR I branch out and do Hazbin Hotel oneshots? Let me know!

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #blitzo x reader #blitzo x y/n #lucifer #helluva boss x y/n #x reader #fanfiction #lilith #satan #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel

922 notes · View notes

cf8wrk4u-us · 1 year ago

Text

How The Lost Light Canceled The Hunger Games

Summary: To a Cybertronian, 200 years is nothing, barely a foot note in this peaceful time where bot are trying to rebuild their world and society.

But 200 years is a lot to humans though, 200 years is a lot for Earth in general.

Things change, humanity changes.

And as Cybertron will learn, not for the better.

But this is something the members of the Lost Light wouldn't stand for.

(Based on these ask given to @yes-i-write-fanfiction

https://www.tumblr.com/yes-i-write-fanfiction/735322098308890624/in-honor-of-the-ballad-of-songbirds-and-snakes?source=share

We're on a flat, open stretch of ground, a plain of hard packed dirt.

Behind the tributes across from me, | can see nothing, indicating either a steep downward slope or even cliff. To my right lies a lake. To my left and back, spars piney woods. This is where Haymitch would want me to go.

Immediately.

I hear his instructions in my head. “Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water”

But it’s tempting, so tempting, when I see the bounty waiting there before me. And I know that if I don’t get it, someone else will. That the Career Tributes who survive the bloodbath will divide up most of these life-sustaining spoils. Something catches my eye. There, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a silver sheath of arrows and a bow, already strung, just waiting to be engaged. That’s mine, I think. It’s meant for me.

I’m fast. I can sprint faster than any of the girls in our school although a couple can beat me in distance races. But this forty-yard length, this is what I am built for. I know I can get it, I know I can reach it first, but then the question is how quickly can I get out of there? By the time I’ve scrambled up the packs and grabbed the weapons, others will have reached the horn, and one or two I might be able to pick off, but say there’s a dozen, at that close range, they could take me down with the spears and the clubs. Or their own powerful fists.

Still, I won't be the only target. I’m betting many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl, even one who scored an eleven in training, to take out their more fierce adversaries.

Haymitch has never seen me run. Maybe if he had he’d tell me to go for it. Get the weapon. Since that’s the very weapon that might be my salvation. And I only see one bow in that whole pile. I know the minute must be almost up and will have to decide what my strategy will be and I find myself positioning my feet to run, not away into the stir rounding forests but toward the pile, toward the bow.

I notice Peeta, he’s about five tributes to my right, quite a fair distance, still I can tell he’s looking at me and I think he might be shaking his head. But the sun’s in my eyes and-

CRASH!

A symphony of broken glass and metal erupted across the arena, the once sunny and clear blue sky darkens into a mess of pixelated screens and crumpling scaffolding. But that's not what had our attention.

From the growing crack in the forcefield was a large aircraft, far bigger than the Capital hovercraft that had brought us to the arena. It was colored in a bright orange red and yellow with tinted dark glass on its front, so massive was its size that it literally scraped the sides of the entrance it cashed through. Sending more of the broken structure to crash down.

My breath picked up, heart hammering in my chest as I saw the craft get closer and closer to us, I noted absently how its shadow easily shaded over me the rest of the tributes. Practically eclipsing the whole arena.

A part of me screamed to move, to run, I thought of images of a hawk as it swooped over a desperate rodent. But the rational part of myself firmly and calmly reminded me that I needed to stay still on the circle before me or I would end up in pieces from the land mines.

But even that became a physical struggle as the aircraft landed sending a heavy gust of wind that threatened to blow tributes back from their stands. I braced my knees and even as I couldn’t stay on I grasped to stay right on the circle. In fact I noticed how others did the same , but a few weren’t successful. Such as one male tribute, from District 5 I believed, who was sent tumbling off. I gave a quick look from my position, ready to hear and see a mess of explosions…but nothing happened.

Even the District 5 tribute, whose face had paled, was now looking confused at the fact he wasn’t a mess against the grass.

The gong hadn’t gone off, yet the mines were not active, so what had the trigger time run out?

Has the Hunger Games begun?

In my head the passing thought came of how this could just be a scenario made by the Gamemakers.

That perhaps the games already started and here I was just standing like easy prey.

But as I heard another groan of metal from the collapsing field above, even I had to admit that was a stupid idea.

Even so, then what was happening?!

Finally the craft opened and a bridge slid down, then stepping out with a thump of metal and heavy footsteps were what I can only name as giants.

Giants covered, no, made of metal!

Then it barely took me a second to recognize what these beings were.

Transformers.

In our history books it always seemed that throughout Panem past and even before the creation of the country, humans have always been each other's greatest enemies. But as stated in our history books, thousands of years ago, there was another race of beings that almost wiped out the planet and the entire human race with it.

Aliens from another world, giant transforming robots known as Cybertronians.

Beings of metal brutality and cold indifference, a warring species who brought their conflict with one another to Earth and put humans right in the crossfires of it.

Only leaving once almost irreparable damage was done to the planet.

As a child and learning about them in class I sometimes would look to the night sky in terror at the thought that these aliens were still out there. Just hiding among the deceptively beautiful stars.

But after losing my father, struggling to hold what was left of my family together, and the helpless dread that came with the annual Reaping; I learned rather quickly that the monsters in real life were far scarier than that of thousand-year-old metal terrors that hadn’t been seen in ages.

What was there to fear of beings who hadn’t been interested in Earth for centuries?

How ironic that my only fear had been my fellow humans when it came to surviving the arena.

Four stepped out from the ship, taking the lead was a fiery red and orange mech whose colors matched the design of the ship. Next to him came the largest of the group was colored a deep blue and red with white high shoulder guards on each side. Besides them was the shortest of the group of Cybertronians, his dark armored body barely reaching the orange one's waist and who unlike his companions didn’t have a visible face of sorts but a blue visor that fitted their red and white helmet. And finally from behind was an imposing gray and black figure, whose armor may appear more subdued in coloring and design than his group, his helmet a simple flat triangular design, nonetheless was buff and strapping. Power practically screaming from just his image alone, and when his red eyes gazed over to us I couldn't help but shiver under their intensity. Not feeling any better when I noticed a sort of dark blaster on its right arm.

He seemed familiar, his image perhaps one I had seen in my aging textbook?

I didn't have the time to ponder further as they finally stepped away from the ship and made it to the grassy field of the arena.

Like earlier I shifted my legs for a sprint, forgetting all about the food and weapons, my eyes shifting to the large expanse of forest that would be the only way to try to avoid whatever these stalking giants had in stored for us.

It was the only plan I could think of, the safest choice, and I’m sure Haymitch would agree.

Is he seeing this? Is the Capital? The whole country? Do they know where being invaded-

“Hello, there”!

I was taken off guard as the orange and red Transformer, the presumably leader of the group, called out to us. His voice was jovial and the smile that spread across his metal face was friendly.

Nothing that gave me a reason to trust him.

His grin persisted as he marched closer only shifting as several tributes cried out and scrambled to escape.

“Wait! Wait”! The giant robot hurriedly said “It's okay”!

I didn’t stop in my sprint till I made it to Peeta, not complaining as he firmly grasped my wrist and pulled me into a hurried pace.

We needed to leave, put as much distance as we could from these metal monsters.

“We're not here to hurt you”! The Transformer said in a surprisingly desperate tone “We're here to help you! Save you! Too Stop The Hunger Games”!

I nearly fell as Peeta stopped.

“Peeta”! I hissed trying to tug him towards the forest, but he refused to move instead looking dumbfounded at the robot. As if he believed what it was saying.

But as I looked around I could see the other tributes had stopped as well, with the ones who made it to the woods actually peeking from the edge of the treeline.

The red and orange robot's face morphed into a softer expression before he went down on one knee.

I gestured I couldn’t help but recognize from my sister Prim when she approached the small scared animals she nursed back to health or in my mom to the anxious sickly children that were brought to be treated at our home.

This Transformer, this giant of a being, was trying to make himself smaller so that the tiny humans before him wouldn’t be frightened.

That…didn’t sound like the hostile warring species from my history class.

I stopped trying to move Peeta.

Seeing that he had our attention the robot spoke again, his voice soft but clear.

“We're here to save you, you won’t have to die today, not for some game, and especially not for your Capital” he stood up before looking at the smaller Transformer “Rewind, are we ready”?

“Just about” they, Rewind, answered “Though before we start mind stepping a little to the left”?

“Huh, why”? Asked the leader

“Because captain, if we were trying to sell the whole “we don’t mean any harm” image maybe we shouldn’t be showing how we trashed their enclosure”? Rewind said

The apparent captain looked to the shattered entrance they had created before sheepishly smiling “Yeah…better not let them see that yet”

“Doubt it will make much a a difference” said the gray and black Transformer, his voice was sharp and curt “No doubt their Capital already knows about the damage done to their little arena”

“This difference is Megs is that we're making a statement” said the Captain “One that has to be said as soon as possible, ready Rewind”?

“Whenever you are” said the smaller bot, tapping the side of his helmet.

I was confused why he did that till I noticed a redlight shinning on the side of his helmet, a video recorder perhaps?

With that the red and orange giant stood straight ahead, his gaze intense as he looked at Rewind “Citizens of the Capitol and Panem, we come in peace”!

CRACK! CRASH!

At that moment more scaffolding and material decided to come tumbling down into the arena as if to loudly object to the statement.

I winced at the noise and off to the side I could see the largest of the Transformers actually pinch his brow in an exasperated manner. A scene I could almost find funny.

Despite this though the captain gave only a nervous chuckle before speaking again “This is Rodimus Prime, and despite our rather abrupt entrance, we have only the best of intention for our arrival” he face then became more serious “While I understand that as of now most of the citizens of this country recognize us in a hostile light, we Autobots, many members of the Cybertronian race have viewed Earth and its people as sentient like minded beings. Ones who needed protection and safety when our war did unfortunately touch your planet. With some humans even becoming valued allies who fought besides us during such a perilous time” Rodimus stopped then, his blue glass eyes dimming even “After the war we left Earth, both out of a need to protect this planet from any further conflict we may have had and out of respect for humanity who wanted to independently run their society once it was rebuilt, a wish we were determined to honor” his voice then harden as he continued “But recent discoveries and findings have forced us to decide to break this arrangement, this biggest being your so called Hunger Games” Rodimus practically spat that word out “A society whose higher caste who not only feeds greedily on it’s citizens but demands blood tributes out of its children, making a game out of their very lives! It will not continue! Not if I can help it”!

I watched transfixed as he raised a fist to his fiery chassis “I call an end to the Hunger Games! Starting now”! He calmed “Again this isn’t a message made out maliciously, I want more than anything to resolve this peacefully, I hope you can believe me citizens of Panem”

Rewind then made a gesture and Rodimus visibly relaxed, even giving a small laugh.

“So did we get all that”?

“Sent it right to our sources, hopefully it was enough to get it to the other Districts but you can bet those big cogs in the Capitol must have seen it”

“That's good” Rodimus nodded before beginning to walk “All we got to do is wait for now”

“You know Optimus Prime isn’t going to be happy about the stunt we pulled today” the gray and black one, Megs, spoke again.

“Well Optimus shouldn’t have been dragging his pedes over this,” responded Rodimus “But if anything just say you were following the captains orders, I’ll take the fall”

“I highly doubt he believed that” the blue and red Transformer said

Rodimus actually shrugged before looking our direction again, he gave another reassuring smile “Just hang tight” he said “I almost got you all out of this”

No one responded for the longest time, till in a quiet voice spoke out.

“Is this really happening”?

I couldn’t pinpoint who spoke, but that voice echoed a question I was asking myself.

Was this really happening?

I recalled the proclamation made by the Transformer not even a minute ago.

An end to the Hunger Games.

No more Hunger Games.

The games were canceled.

Was this really happening? Barely a few minutes earlier I was ready to run for my life and fight against my fellow tributes in a bloody arena, but now I was being told that we didn’t have to fight by a giant metal alien.

I felt Peeta shudder beside me and when I looked at him I could see how wet his eyes were getting, he covered his mouth trying to muffle a sob. Without thinking I pulled him close and let his weight sag against mine.

I was ready to let our time in the tower be our final goodbye, knowing that the chances of us making it from the Cornucopia was slim at best and remaining allies had an even smaller chance.

But saying I wasn’t relieved would be a lie, I was relieved that the games hadn’t started, relieved that Peeta and I were still together, relieved that we were going to be okay.

And if a few tears and raspy breaths left my mouth I wouldn’t find myself ashamed for it.

When we were calm enough to pull away I looked to the other tributes; most stood with their Districts. Some crying and clinging to one another, a few who decided to look through the packs of supplies littered around the arena, but most just staring at the Transformers that stood by their ship.

Well most of them.

The apparent captain, Rodimus, was actually walking leisurely towards the pond. Then literally popping open his chest cavity pulled out a pole of some kind that had a string at the end of it.

It took me a second to realize what he was doing.

“Is he…”? Peeta started

This Transformer, a giant metal warrior, a captain that led his own crew, and just broke into the Capitals arena and called an end to the Hunger Games; just plopped himself at the end of the water and began to fish!

Peeta actually coughed a laugh besides me “Can robots even eat fish”?

I didn’t know and wasn’t sure to find out.

But surprisingly enough Peeta let go of my hand and actually got towards the robot!

“Peeta”?! I whispered harshly “What are you doing”?

“I want to get a closer look at them” he said

“Peeta, wait”! I said urgently “They’re Transformers, it might not be safe too-”

“They saved our lives Katniss and you heard them, they don’t want to hurt us” Peeta said but before he kept moving he held out a hand to me, encouraging me to take it.

I hesitated though.

Despite what these Transformers had done for us, despite their promises, I still didn’t feel comfortable putting myself in a squishing range of them.

Peeta gave me a disappointed yet understanding look and continued on. Surprisingly even some tributes began to take his lead, forming a small crowd.

The bot, Rodimus, began to notice their approach and gave a large smile at them.

“Hello there,”! he said

None of the tributes worked up the nerve to greet him back verbally but I could see Peeta giving his own smile in return along with an energetic wave of his hand.

A part of me had to keep myself from rolling my eyes, it was just like Peeta to try to get people to like him. The games may have been over and these giants claimed not to mean any harm but Peeta was still trying to play it safe.

He really was clever like that.

But ultimately it wasn’t Peeta who opened up to the metal giant.

“You know how to fish”?

This came from the young 12 year old from District 4.

“Yup” Rodimus said “Back when I was stationed on Earth a good friend of mine taught me, I got really into it after that” He ended that by adjusting his line a little.

The District 4 boy's eyes widened before giving a curious gaze at the pond next to them.

“Do you think there’s anything in there”?

“I hope, in either case I’m just glad to be fishing again”! The robot said “I told myself that if I ever came to Earth again it would be one of the first things I did”! He stopped before asking the Tributes besides him “Do any of you fish”?

Again most stayed silent but the District 4 didn’t hesitate to raise his hand and say “My district is responsible for most of the fishing done, some of my father and uncles are even allowed on the boats to go to sea for the bigger stuff, we even have competitions during the season”

Rodimus' eyes seemed to glow brighter “Oh, so you're a bit of an expert huh”? He asked leaning closer “So what's the biggest fish you’ve caught so far”?

The young boy's face went red, from the freckles of his nose to the bouncy curls on his head.

“Um, just a couple of mackerel with my dads old fishing rod ” he said quietly almost embarrassed “I catch a lot more with nets with my friends”

“Mackerel! Wow that impressive”! The giant robot expressed eagerly “Most of my fishing is done in freshwater, I say the biggest I got was just 5 pound bluegill but boy was he a tough one-hey I didn't catch your name by the way”

“Luca” said the boy “Luca Alberts”

As the red and orange Transformer continued to chatter on about his fishing experiences the group of huns around him seemed to relax more and more, feeling at ease his casual attitude. And it seemed to affect some of the other tributes too who had previously kept their distance.

I moved closer to where Peeta was in the group, catching more of the conversation made by Rodimus to the District 4 tribute.

“So do you really hope to catch anything”? Asked the boy, Luca

“Who knows? Best way to pass the time anyway” Rodimus responded

“You might want to be careful” a voice suddenly said

It was one of the male tributes, I didn’t recognize him initially given he looked like another of the 14 year olds that were taken into the games. Then recalling a yellow suit I realized this must have been the tribute from District 3, his bright yellow dress shirt being the only thing that stood out in his rather dull interview with Cesar.

“You don’t know what might be inside the pond” the District 3 Tribute explained “The arenas are supposed to be set up with all kinds of traps, ones operated by the Gamemakers and ones set loose like the Mutts”

“Mutts” Rodmius said quietly “Right, those lab made animals they make” his happy expression turned into a somber one before his smile returned “Well, it’ll be fine! If there's anything dangerous lurking in these water, just trust your friend Rodimus to help”

He added a thumbs up that honestly felt corny, but seemed to please the younger tributes.

“I’d like to fish too”! Luca announced

Rodimus hummed unsure “Well, I only have one-”

“It’s fine” he stated before going to the nearest pack and rummaging through it “There pretty simple to make if you have the right supplies”

Rodimus nodded “Then I'll trust the expert on this”

The boy gave a proud grin though mad a disappointed sound at not fighting anything before moving onto the next pack.

From where I stood I gave another glance at Rodimus and his robotic teamates.

To be honest it wasn’t enough to say these were robots, the Capital miniature cleaning or delivering drones definitely fit the definition. There movements stiff and uniform, moved with purpose in their singular task.

But these Transformers, they moved as a human would. Maybe not with the same fluidity but unrestricted, like the armor they were wasn't just something attached to their bodies but actually a part of them. Even the metal on their faces, despite how alien they looked, moved so easily. And given Rodimus examples, with so much expression and versatility.

How could metal and gears and inanimate material move and soften so much like flesh, like actual breathing beings.

Because they were alive obviously….

For years I had it in my head that these aliens were nothing but cold hearted machines of war. That's what our history books told us, showed us.

But then again those books were written by the Capital.

And the Capital says a lot of things.

I looked at the large Transformers before me; Rodimus chatting with the other tributes, the smaller one Rewind holding the side of his face as he gazed around so obviously still recording, and finally to the two largest bots who stood rather detached from the rest of the group.

I part of me wondered how different things have been if Rodimus and his people had come sooner.

Would the first Rebellion have been successful, would the Capital still have demanded to Hunger Games, would their even have been a Hunger Games, would-?

My hypothetical thoughts were cut short when a piercing scream went through the air.

Turning I could see some of the tributes scattering away from the Cornucopia as the male District 2 tribute came barreling out of the entrance swinging a large sword.

“Stop! What are you doing”?!! cried Rodimus, quickly getting up and abandoning his fishing pole “Why are you fighting! Your free now! No one is making you kill anyone”!

The brutish tribute, Cato if I member his name, looked at the robot and actually gave a snarky smile.

“Are you stupid”? he asked “Do you really think you can stop the games? That we'll let you”!

From behind him I can see more of the Career Tributes gather behind him, each brandishing their own weapons.

“We're here for a reason! And I'm not about to let you take that away from us”!

More tributes scattered as the pack of Carriers ready their weapons and stalk forward.

Despite everything, despite all of Rodimus hopeful promises, I'm sure that there's going to be death even if these aliens did call for an end of the games.

Really how stupid was I to believe them, how stupid I was for not grabbing a weapon, or not just running when I had the chance.

“That's enough”! Rodimus ordered taking a step forward, barely restrained anger in his voice “Stop this now or-”

But already Cato was rushing forward sword already at the closest, hapless target.

Luca.

The District 4 tribute quest for fishing line and other supplies had put him just close enough to Cato line of attack, he kneeled by an open bag, to startled or afraid to run.

Rodimus quickly moved , the ground quaking in his hurried step forward. Avoiding get accidentally trampled on I didn't notice when Peeta left my side till I saw him rushing past Rodimus bright orange feet right for Luca.

The instance was too fast and too slow at the same time, Peeta running to the boy, taking him his arms to try and pull him away from the attack, the sword swinging down and blood sprinkling out.

I can feel myself yelling, Peeta name clawing its way out of my mouth as I saw the sword about to swing back down again.

BOOM!

A roaring blast echoed through the air as a bright hot beam of purple shot over the heads of the Carrier tributes.

The arena grew hot, it felt like the very air was singed from that one blast. Leaving A smoking crater in the far off distance that no doubt could have easily sizzled away any puny human in its path.

It felt hard to breath and my stomach threatened to lurch the meager breakfast I stomached back at the tower. But still I turned my head to look at the cause of the blast.

The gray and black mech.

Everyone was silent, afraid too move. Even the Carrier tributes, who had been a savage pack thirsty for our blood were left shaking. The District 1 tribute actually scared off his feet, ass to the ground as he look terrified at the glowering red eyed Transformer.

"You wanna try that again”? the Transformer said, his voice like a rumbling storm, his still smoking cannon leveled at the group of Carriers “I came here because I thought I was saving innocent humans from a cruel game made by a tyrannical society, not a rabid creature who sees fit to attack his own kind"

Cato stupidly tries to argue "Its the Hunger Games-"!

"And as my captain stated, there are no more games from here on out" said the bot, but his face actually looked to soften a bit "Your a Carrier tribute, from what I understand, you were raised for this, all of you" he cast his eyes to the rest of the group "Raised to murder, slaughter, and entertain...but understand that from here on out the games are done….but if you feel so free to continue fighting than do it"

The cannon lights up.

"Come forward and strike, make your District proud, make your owners proud"

Cato seemed to be hyperventilating, he turned to his fellow Carrier tributes but they were all shrinking away under the gaze of the giant robot aiming their weapons at them.

All of these Carrier tributes, made into these roughness killing machines for the benefit of the games, reduced to scared children.

I find it laughable if I wasn't fixed on a moaning Peeta lying on the top of a silent Luca.

But I didn't dare approach till Cato, with an almost wheezy cry, squeezed his blade one more time before throwing it away.

The others following his example.

I rushed forward trying to evaluate the damage, kneeling besides Peeta I carefully tried to move him on his back and off of Luca. The boy looked fine but I startled to see that Peeta had a long slash cutting across his right arm. Cutting deeply by his elbow before becoming shallow by his shoulder. Bleeding very heavily.

I did my best to press on the wound, the warmth stickiness of it pooling between my fingers.

Peeta eyes were open with pain but still he managed a strangled “Katniss…”

“You idiot”! I couldn't help but snap “What were you thinking”?!

He was so close to getting out! Getting out alive at least!

A shadow overtook us and I looked to see both Rodimus and Rewind staring down at us.

Rodimus was clear with horror as he looked at Peeta's wound.

“Scrap” I heard him mutter, I didn’t know what it meant but couldn't help but share his sentiment.

The sleeve of my coat was already soaked with blood. I knew I couldn't continue on like this, then stupidly I member there was a pack besides me.

I grabbed at it hastily looking through, cursing as I only found a few crackers, a empty canteen, and a pair of socks.

Despite this I stretched the socks as far as I could, rembering from my mother and Prims work that no matter what I had to press to keep the blood in! Huh, even with something so obvious I still was failing.

“Here” a voice said and I felt a weight besides me.

It was the young girl from District 11, Rue, and in her hands was a roll of bandages.

Quickly grasping it I thanked her and made to work trying to wrap the wound. Rue wordlessly held up the arm gently to let me encircle it further, though Peeta gave painful gasps still.

“Let's try tying part of the arm” said Rue tapping just above his elbow “It'll help with the bleeding”

I nodded following her instructions, just like I would if it were my sister and mother. I was never a gifted healer like them and I didn't have confidence in the wrappings as I still saw red peaking through the white of the bandages. But I was still too glad that it stopped spilling on the grass.

The shadow above us got bigger and I felt Rue press up to me while Luca fliched.

“Will he survive”? asked the gray and black Transformer

“I-I don't know” Rodimus said “Oh, slag, we really should have brought Ratchet”!

“To be fair he may nor have been as helpful considering this is a human and not a Cybertronian patient”

“Yeah but-will you put that thing away Megatron”! Rodimus suddenly yelled in frustration

Megatron.

I felt my blood run cold as I finally realized why I recognized this specific Transformer.

Images of him, him and his Decepticons, littered the chapter of my history book.

Describing one of the leaders of the two waring Cybertronian factions, this bot name was meantioned as to put a face to the carnage that was the species of Cybertronians. Deemed so evil and callus for his not only his utter disregard of human life but in his delighted in the utter suffering and destruction to the organic life on this planet. Pictures and accounts left no room for nightmarish imagination.

He barely looked any different, I could still recognize him.

This was him.

This was Megatron.

I didn't hesitate to push myself in front of Peeta and the younger two. Despite knowing I was helpless to anything he want to do to us.

“It was just too prove a point” said the metal ravager “Wasn't even looking to maim”

“That's not the point Megs-”! Rodimus would have continued if the whole arena didn't begin to shake causing even the giant robots to become unsteady on their feet.

Suddenly the forest erupted in a burst of flames! And the once tranquil pond bubbled ominously, growing inside till literal waves were sloshing closer to the field the stood.

“I believe the Gamemakers are not too happy with us interrupting there game” said the blue and red bot named Mags as he approached his captain.

Getting a serious face Rodimus loudly ordered “Grab the humans, were getting out of here”!

Rodimus kneeled before us “We got to leave” he said before cupping his metal hand and holding it low “I know your friends hurt but we gotta move you guys”

There's a lot I can distrust Rodimus for, being a Cybertronian for 1. and having Megatron on his crew for 2.

But seeing the earnestness in his blue glass eyes and knowing staying in the arena meant only death, I could only silently shuffle Peeta onto the bright red metal with Rue and Luca following behind us. The metal felt oddly warm beneath me.

“That's it little buddies ” Rodimus said encouragingly “There we go”

His fingers curling as the only warning before Rodimus lifted us up to a dizzying hight, from their I could see the other bots Mags and Rewind collect the rest of the tributes with surprising gentleness.

Something I also noticed is Megatron himself, simply standing there and staring at the Carrier tributes who panicked as the ground around them began to muddy as the tide of the water lapped at their feet.

I guessed that the metal destroyer maybevwanted to finish the job,but to my surprise he leaned down and scooped up the scared tributes.

Soon enough Rodimus and the others rushed us towards their ship

It started dark before opening to a control room full of machinery and screen monitors.

“Magnus, get us ready for lift off” said Rodimus before going towards a large glass tank and gentle settling us inside there. Rewind did the same to the two tributes he held and the bot Mags/Magnus set down the rest.

There was some hesitancy as Rodimus saw Megatron with the Carrier tributes but he only made a clicking noise before jumping into one of the seats, no doubt the Captain chair.

“Are we ready”?

“Thrusters on captain”!

I barely felt the ship move but on the monitors is clearly showed us soaring above the almost decimated arena and lift towards the dome. I shuddered and continued to hold Peeta as once again the ship jolted as it scrapped against the size of the force field.

“Rodimus, I'm detecting several hostile flight carriers coming our way”

“Guess they really didn't appreciate our little peace demonstration” Rodimus said dryly as he gripped the steering device.

The monitors showed what was obviously Capital shuttles coming at the ship.

There was a violent shudder from the side of the ship.

“Rodimus…should we engage” said Magnus quietly

Rodimus voice was determined as he said “No, we agreed we weren't taking any lives today” but then an almost cheerful tone came to his voice “But I got something else in mind”!

The ship gave a jerk and I felt myself bracing against the surface of the tank.

“They want to chase us, then we'll go somewhere they can't follow”!

Despite the optimistic way he spoke it was becoming worryingly hard to breath.

“Rodimus” Megatron said in a stressed tone “Rember the elevation, the humans-”

“I think I know how to transport humans” Rodimus said sarcastically, but I couldn't help but notice that it was getting easier to breath.

I coughed and checked on Peeta, concerned how paled he was though with how alert he looked I was still hopeful.

The jostling stopped and soon it was a smooth ride. Though not a comfortable one as Megatron gazed at all of us within the tank.

I did my best to meet his gaze fearlessly, my eyes flickering to the scared Carrier tributes still in his hands. The squirmed and cried, terrified to be in the hands of a titan who could easily squish them.

The one-sided stare off was broken by Rodimus hysterical laughter “We did it! We did it”! the bot practically leaped from his seat to fist pump the air “We saved the humans and showed those higher cassette up”

“Yes” Magnus said in a tired voice “With 23 anxious young humans and 1 injured tribute in our care”

“Well, we can figure it out” said Rodimus jovially “Doesn't this prove we can do anything”?

“Rodimus-” started Magnus

“Oh, we need to get ready to dock”!

The way Magnus sighed you would think he was a tired parent to a rambunctious child and not the crew member following his captain.

There was another shudder and soon a bright light entered the hall we had come from, soon Rodimus left his seat to the tank we were in.

He was all smiles as he began to roll the very platform our tank was on towards the entrance.

“Your safe now, your safe” he kept murmuring.

I wondered if it was more for his assurance then for our sakes.

The light at the end of the hall was blinding but when we emerged from it a roar of cheers followed.

“WE'RE BACK”! yelled Rodimus

As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see we were in a large hangar of some sort and inside it a group of Transformers stood, bots of versions colors and sizes all whooped and hollered in congratulations to Rodimus and his group.

Once we got closer several of them surged forward.

“You actually got them”? said one with sharp helmet a grey face and red marking around his eyes.

“Ha! I wish I could have seen the faceplate of those Capital jerks when you burst in there” said one bot who only had a single yellow glass eye that made up his greenish blue helm.

“Are these humans”? one small white and blue bot asked as they struggled to look at them from the height of our platform “They're so cute”!

A purple Transformers with a narrow face and red eyes leaned forward “One of thems injured”

“Scrap”! Rodimus said “Ratchet?! Where's Ratchet”?

“I'm here”! called a gruff voice, a red and white mech pushed through the crowd “What happened”?

“Um, we ran into some complications” said Rodimus gesturing to Peeta “Can you help him”?

“A human patient” the robot frowned “I can try, but I can't promise I'll be as much use given how long it's been and what supplies I have ir should I say don't have”

“Haha, he just being modest” Rodimus said nervously looking at Katniss “But he'll be in safe servos”

That obviously didn't assure me and both bots could tell as I held Peeta close to me.

The one called Ratchet came forward before lowering his hand into the tank, tributes did scramble back till it was only me and Peeta before the metal hand that was as big as a storage door.

“I see your worried for your friend, I understand” he said “ But I need to take a look at him, it's the best way to ensure his wound is properly treated”

“Your not a human” I found myself saying “You don't know what your doing”

“This isn’t my first time with an injured human, it's just been some time and I don't exactly have what I need….” He stopped before saying “He looks like aid was administered, was this your work”?

I nodded but admitted “I had some help”

Ratchet hummed and nodded before nudging his hand more instantly towards me “You can come along, perhaps you could help me treat him”

I gulped looking between him, the hand, and a grimacing Peeta. Then finally helped push Peeta onto the outstretched hand before placing myself onto the cold metal of the palm. I braced myself as once again lifted by a metal giant.

Ratchet began to quickly walk away with us, but I could still hear Rodimus speaking.

“Megatron make sure you keep those tributes separated” he instructed curtly, obviously talking about the Carrier group.

His voice became more lighter as he said “As for the rest of you, I want to welcome you all to the Lost Light”!!!!

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers mtmte #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #rodimus #rewind #ultra magnus #megatron #ratchet #crossover #the hunger games

112 notes · View notes

st4rb3rries · 1 year ago

Text

STAN MARSH and KYLE BROFLOVSKI friendship hc's!! ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

pairings; stan and kyle x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; goofy friendship head cannons!!

warnings; cussing, underage drinking

a/n; my first time writing so lmk if theres any mistakes

YOUR FRIEND GROUP WITH THEM

you guys try to start a band. stan plays the electric guitar and you play the drums. but kyle.... oh sweet kyle. this orange head plays some type of classical instrument. my boy be playing the cello during a mcr (my chemical romance) song i swear😭😭.

stan: "dude c'mon this ain't the 1700's your piano doesn't belong here."

y/n: "yeah pack it up bethoven"

kyle: "DUDE IM SORWRY YK MY PARENTS MAQDE ME PLAY THIS GAY ASS INSTRUMENT!!!"

you and stan just giggle

there's always sleepovers at your house 24/7. your house is a safe spot for them. like y'all always snuggle and cuddle together in your bed. its so comfy too because you have so many plushies. you guys always watch movies and take naps after for sureee.<33

baking bro. kyle is the best baker out of y'all. one time stan and you tried to bake premade cookies. hell nah the fire department came. kyle was so mad that day becuase it was his oven and his parents were out of town... you and stan had to get summer jobs to pay off his oven. you guys still owe money whoops. you guys really hope kyle forgot about this accident. (he didn't.)

you guys go stargazing!! and it's the best thing to do too. kyle would bring his telescope and. you and stan would bring the snacks, flashlights, and blankets. one time you guys went and there was a mediator shower. all of you guys were in awe as you saw the mediators flash by. lowkey wanna of the best and rememberable moment you guys all have together.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH STAN

sometimes when stan is having a bad day with his parents he sneaks into your room and brings some beer to drink with you. kyle doesn't know you guys do this at all. but you guys drink A LOT whenever he comes over. it's literally a problem but #yolo😜. the conversations are worth it though. you guys talk about the meaning of life and. say some random ass shit. for example you both confessed that you had a crush on each other at some point in your guys life. nothing but laughter after that.

one time stan decided he wanted you to bleach his hair. he only wanted to dye it cause he didn't wanna look like his dad. he was having a mental breakdown about it. he never really shows this side to anyone but you, his bestie. he cries into your chest for a long time after venting. once he looks at your shirt (filled with snot and tears) he says "sorry" so much it's literally so cute. once you were done comforting him it was time to bleach his hair:D. (Y'ALL WERE STILL DRUNK) after bleaching his hair it looked good to y'all at that time... when he got sober he literally said, "y/n what the fuck happened to my hair." clearly you remembered what led to his bleached hair but he didn't. stan dyed it back to black himself ha.

he always plays his guitar to you. if he had a crush on you he'd definitely write a love song for you to listen to. definitely hasn't wrote one before. he play's all these catchy riffs for you and loves to see your face in awe. always tries to teach you to play but you get distracted cause he's so close to you😏. you listen to music with him 24/7 and share headphones!! radiohead, deftones, mcr, my bloody valentine are y'alls go to music artists. music is therapy for y'all.

THIRFTING!!! y'all go thrifting everyday bro i swear. he always finds the best stuff too. he finds all the embroidered jeans, vintage tees, and hella cool jewelry. LIKE HELLOO SHARING IS CARINGG!!! nah but you guys do be sharing clothes and accessories. since you guys have the same style. you guys also be pulling up to them yard sales. that's when your luck happens and. that's when stan gets jealous. you guys are depressed but well dressed.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH KYLE

you always play with his hair. since its so cute and fluffy. he often gets insecure cause of cartman. but it comforts him when you play and style his hair. when you style his hair i'm talking about pigtails, braids, space buns all that cute stuff. to go with that you add clips, headbands and bows. he looks goofy as hell but anything for his best friend. sometimes when he's so stressed he asks if he can come over to your house. you say yes ofc. he only comes just so he can get his hair played by you. once you guys start chatting away and his hair is getting played with he get's so relaxed. this is what heaven feels like to him!!

starbies and studying at the library. ok out of the 3 of y'all you and kyle are the smartest. when you go to the library you guys always go to your go to spot every time. if someone is setting there. kyle asks them to politely leave. if not his short temper comes out. once the person finally leaves you guys set up everything organized. you guys borrow fancy highlighters for notes and. big wordy text books to read to each other. you guys always go over the answers if you have tests at school. kyle usually is the first to one to passout. so you have to carry him out of the library sometimes. he looks so peaceful why would you wanna wake him up😭. stan secretly gets jealous that you guys study at the library without him. like come on guys he's smart too.

PLAYING DREIDEL WITH HIM!!! he adores when you play dreidel with him! you always loose though🙄. no one can out beat him. when he first asked you to play with him and. you asked him what it was. he was so excited to tell you. you fell asleep because he told you the whole ass history of the dreidel. like you just wanted to learn how to play😭. whenever it's getting close to hannukah you make dreidels out of clay for everyone. you decorate them and stuff. sheila is tearing up cause y'all so cute together making dreidel's. she defenitly takes a photo of you two. after you gave everyone their dreidel. the last person to receive one was cartman.... it didn't go so well.

since you guys are nerds. you guys definitely write emo poems and. it always be late at night too. this is when y'all become so sensitive and emotional. trauma, bullying, blood, sweat, and tears. go into these poems omfg. you guys also write books for ike!! he loves them!! especially the ones from you. you and kyle also write dumb ass books for each other too. they even have lil crayon drawings lmaoo. for example: kyle wrote on called, "jew on the boat". it was one page that said, "jew on the boat". with a silly drawing. HELPPP YOU GUYS LAUGHED AT THIS FOR HOURS AND. IT WASN'T EVEN THAT FUNNY.

#south park x reader #south park hcs #south park x you #south park x y/n #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski #- kye writes!

161 notes · View notes

tinyfishtits · 7 months ago

Note

Micah Bell, the same Micah Bell that receives little to no sleep every day, and probably sleeps on chairs and tables. Imagine that same Micah Bell being sent on a mission with whomever . They have to hide out in town, and in some dingy hotel with a semi-comfortable bed. This man receiving what would be one of the most comfortable rests in a long time.

Enjoy THAT FishTits🤭

😩 Micah deserves a comfy, good nights sleep and it’s my mission to give him such every chance I get… so here cowpoke, have some fluff

His chest pressed into my back, his breath hot on my neck as we both held the door to the little hotel room shut, listening for lawmen on the other side. It was chaos in the saloon below, a bloody bar fight turned shoot out. The sheriff and his cronies had shown up just moments ago to put an end to it all. We had managed to slip out unseen, but the mess downstairs would take all night to clean up at least. We were stuck.

“Won’t they come check the rooms?” I whispered, Micah’s face only inches from mine. He looked exhausted. We’d spent all day out in the unrelenting sun of the bayou, shooting up and robbing every raider camp we could find. Having stopped into Saint Denis purely to rest our bones for a moment and drown ourselves in whiskey, fighting our way out of the mess below had taken every last bit of energy we had and it showed.

“In a nice place like this?” He answered, stepping back from where we were huddled against the door and giving the room a proper once over. “No. They got enough to deal with downstairs.” Rubbing sleepily at his face he eyed the large bed in the center of the room and raised a brow at me. I knew that look.

“In your dreams, cowboy.” I scoffed, taking a seat across from the door. Despite his confidence in our safety here, there was no way I’d be able to rest as long as lawmen were just a few yards away. Let alone do anything else.“You should get some sleep though.” I added, stifling a yawn.

“If anyone’s gonna keep lookout it should be me.” He said, his stance challenging as he rested his hands on his hips and cocked his head at me. I just rolled my eyes.

“Save whatever bullshit you’re about to spew for later and rest.” I continued, standing and striding over to him, “We both know you never let yourself sleep for whatever stupid reason. So…” I pushed him back onto the bed, his heavily lidded eyes staring hungrily back at me. “Go to sleep!”

He groaned, seemingly torn between pouncing on me and sinking back into the plush mattress. The mattress won. By the time I made it back to my seat by the door he was already snoring. His legs dangled off the foot of the bed, arms sprawled out to either side taking up the entirety of the beds width. I’d never seen him look so peaceful before…

Despite my job to listen for lawmen, I found myself watching Micah as he drifted deeper and deeper into a sound, restful slumber. His eyes shook beneath their lids, golden lashes fluttering softly. His mouth twitched, the occasional snore or soft sigh escaping his lips. It hadn’t been more than ten minutes before I left my post and gently sat on the mattress at his side.

It was like watching a sleeping kitten. How they would run and play until their little legs couldn’t support them any longer. And they’d literally fall into sleep wherever they were, little limbs still twitching with unrest, sprawled out just as the gruff outlaw before me was. I found myself, before I’d even realized I’d moved, stroking his long hair from his face. He breathed a soft, sweet moan, nuzzling into my touch.

I sat with him for a while. Idly stroking his hair as I pondered what dreams flashed behind his busy eyes. Whether or not he was the kind of person to dream of the day he’d had, or perhaps he had an imagination none of us knew about, and it was fantastical images of faraway lands that lived buried in those bright blue eyes.

My daydreaming was interrupted by a soft whisper from his lips. “Stay…” I froze, unsure if he’d awoken. “…boy.” He continued, “Baylock..” He was dreaming… of his horse. “You’re such a big softy.” I laughed, resuming my petting of his hair when he suddenly rolled onto his side. One arm wrapped around my lap and his face buried into my hip as he curled into me, still fast asleep by the sound of his even, deep breaths

“Stay” he repeated. And though I knew the command wasn’t for me, I settled into the bed with him. “Shhh.” I hushed, as if calming my own restless horse. And fell into a deep sleep by his side, my post by the door fully forgotten wrapped up in his warmth.

I had, on occasion, booked myself hotel rooms while I was away from camp. Though even I had to admit the beds in Saint Denis were far superior than any I’d enjoyed further west. I wasn’t sure Micah had ever indulged himself with even that simple luxury. I didn’t even want to begin to imagine how sore he was, always slumped in chairs and drooped over hard wooden tables when he finally drank himself to sleep.

By the time rays of sunlight reached our tangled forms on the bed it was midday. We’d slept a good ten hours at least. A blanket was lazily strewn over us both, having somehow dragged ourselves to the middle of the bed during the night. Micahs arms were around me, still clad in his leather jacket, his face tucked into the crook of my neck, warm breath licking at the sensitive skin there.

I tried to wiggle free of his grasp but with every slight movement I made he squeezed me tighter against him. “Micah…” I whispered, his only answer a drowsy groan. “It’s nearly noon we-“

“Five more minutes…” his scratchy voice barely audible. Rolling my eyes I teased, “You sound like Jack.” his only retort was to squeeze me tighter, a long sigh escaping his lips. “Fine.” I whispered, pulling him even closer still and continued my lazy petting of his hair as his soft snores resumed. A deep yawn overcame me, “Five minutes…” I murmured into his hair, before sleep consumed me as well.

enjoy THAT vanderlindepounder 😌 not a dingy bed but eh, he deserves some luxury 🤠

If you liked this, check out my other Micah works!

★ My Masterlist ★

#sigh #this man #reader calls him kitten after this 🤭#red dead redemption 2 #micah bell #Micah bell fic #Micah bell fluff #fish reqs

25 notes · View notes

nonclassyparty · 1 year ago

Text

man with the plan (j.wy) - chapter 2.

Summary: "Don't forget Pretty, I'm serving life plus one. So if I get busted for attempted escape, I'll throw in a homicide in there as well with no problem, that’s like a parking ticket to me." When your brother ends up in jail for a murder he didn't commit, the only thing left for you to do is to find a way to break him out. But after a perfect plan is set in motion, you don't expect a romantic variable to get added into the equation.

Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem. reader, jeong yunho x reader (but if u squint)

Status: in progress

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: idk for this one, still some cursing, nothing too heavy

Taglist: @tinyjuni @hazysan @atinytinaa @tenebrisirae @doggopepper @dazzlingstarrs @lavishloving @cherrypandora @silentcry329 @jeagerist-20 @myunvillage @manipulatedstars @bitteryu @maru-matt @bubbleteakittyy @joonsthethicc

A/N: hi guys! welcome to chapter 2 of man with the plan....i don't really have anything to say so enjoy lmfao!! wait i do!! if u find any plot holes LITERALLY do not tell me i don't want to know kjfgjkdfhgjkf

my main masterlist // playlist // moodboard // ao3

chapter 1 // masterlist // chapter 3

Chapter 2; How’d I get here, sitting next to you?

The sun is high up in the sky by the time you're walking across the gravel, eyes combing through the yard filled out with men in blue prisoner uniforms. The October air embraces you, it's still chilly despite it nearing noon now but the little bit of sunshine makes the whole place feel more alive and less eerie.

"Hello." You greet, a couple of feet away from the wired fence stopping to stand behind a man occupying an empty lone bench with a Calico cat gently held in his arms that he strokes as he watches out at the yard.

He turns to look over his shoulder, faint surprise etched across his features. His dark hair almost covers his eyes, "Hello."

You sniffle, giving him a faint smile, "You're Park Seonghwa, aren't you?"

His eyes scan you from head to toe, not in a lewd matter whatsoever, but more so in curiosity. "Yes."

His voice is gentle. In fact, the man looks entirely misplaced in an environment like this with his soft and pretty-like features. Not to mention the pet.

"I knew your older sister." You tell him, noticing the way his eyes sadden a little at the mention of his older sibling that passed away a couple of months back from lung cancer.

And well! You didn't exactly get to know her by accident, you purposefully sought her out but Seonghwa here doesn't need to know that.

He pursues his lips, turning to face the yard again and giving you his back, "You knew Nayeon?"

You cock your head to the side, "You mean Sooyoung? Yes, we were members of the same book club. The one in our neighbourhood."

"Ah, the one in Myeongdong." He comments with a nod and your lips quirk up.

"You mean the one in Seongsu-dong? Yes." You bounce right back to him and finally, he turns to look at you again with his own mouth pulling up in an intrigued smile.

"Alright, no more quizzes." He slides around the bench, turning to face you fully with the cat still in his arms, his thumb running across it's head, "What do you want?"

You throw a glance behind you just to notice that there are no guards around before nodding towards the Calico in his lap, "How do they allow you to have it in here?"

"She's not an it, her name is Mijoo." Seonghwa says protectively holding the cat against his chest, "And she's a comfort pet, they allow us to have one or two of those. Only to the ones who are on their best behavior in here, though."

Ah, so he's a goody two-shoes.

You nod with a hum and Seonghwa's eyes leave the cat, Mijoo, as he picks his head up to look at you, "Now you answer my question, what do you want?"

You chuckle, mouth pulling up in a grin as you look to the side in little embarrassment before bringing your attention back to him, "I heard you were Park Ha-ru."

Now, it's Seonghwa's turn to chuckle, "You know, every time they bring a new con in here, he'll approach me and ask the same question," He tilts his head, "Why do you want to know though? Who even are you?"

"I'm Y/N," You motion to the rubble and workers on the other side of the compound, "New supervisor of the construction site."

"Ah," He eyes the building site over your shoulder before looking at you again, "This isn't exactly the place for you, y'know? Surely you must've known that before taking the job and I don't think any boss would be cruel enough to send a young woman to supervise a construction site at a level one prison."

You smile, "I volunteered."

He seems peeved by your response, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he looks you over before sighing.

"Well, I'll tell you the same thing I told everyone else," Seonghwa pursues his lips before placing a small kiss on Mijoo's head, "I'm not him."

Your stomach feels like it's in knots as you stare at him, looking for any signs of dishonesty. Either Park Seonghwa is one hell of a liar or...he just isn't the guy.

...and you got it all wrong.

You think you'll go with option number one, simply to save your brain from going in overdrive with panic. He has to be the one.

"That's too bad," You sigh with a small shrug, smiling, "It would've been kind of cool if you were."

He laughs at that, "Trust me, no-one is more sad about that than me." Seonghwa snorts, eyes squinting from the sun as he stares up at you from the bench, "Having 1.6 billion won hidden somewhere, waiting for me to get out so I could claim it. Unfortunately, all I have is a re-modelled basement in my parents' house and a shitty car waiting for me when I get out."

You chuckle with a nod as your eyes fall to the grass below your boots, "Right."

"Sorry to disappoint." He adds quietly, eyes burning into your profile.

You shake your head with a smirk, "Didn't disappoint." Taking a couple of steps further back when you notice a guard appearing on the other corner of the fence, "It was nice talking to you, Seonghwa."

You know he's puzzled by you, it's easy to read his face but he doesn't voice it, simply nods. "You too."

You walk up the gravel with your hands dug deep into the pockets of your coat until you near the entrance of the building and let out a low groan, remembering you had an appointment with the warden to help him out with the present for his dear wife.

The buzzer followed up by the sound of the door opening and feet shuffling in causes you to look up from the surface of the table in front of you.

Two guards lead Jongho towards you and cuff him to the table, as per usual. He looks like he's gaining some muscle in there, the color of his cheeks is back and hair is shorter but other than that, he looks like the same old Jongho. The only difference is that your brother looks at you like he's about to give you the scolding of a lifetime.

You're both silent, Jongho cranes his neck subtly to watch the guards walk back to the other side of the room before turning towards you, looking absolutely furious.

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?" Jongho hisses out, leaning close to the glass separating the two of you.

You let out a small huff, innocently looking around the room. A full row of glass windows with inmates on one side of the glass with their families on the other surrounded the both of you.

"I don't know what you mean." You tell your brother in a relaxed manner, watching his eyes fall shut in frustration at your purposeful denseness.

"Drop the bullshit." Jongho commands you in a low tone, eyes set in a glare. Except there's no anger in his words but worry, "Whatever it is that you're doing, just stop."

You press your lips together, placing your trembling hands in your lap. "I can't do that."

Your brother watches you in confusion through the glass, mouth lightly hanging open as he shakes his head at you, wondering what you've gotten yourself into.

"Jongho, I only have ten minutes so you need to shut the fuck up and listen to me now." You lean closer to tell him in a whisper, glancing over his shoulder to check on the guards who were still by the wall on the other side. There were too many ears surrounding you even without any wires in the visitations room but you knew Jongho well enough to know that he won't budge until you throw him a bone, so you'll have to speak in your little code praying that he will understand; "Jay is leaving soon."

Complete and utter confusion clouds Jongho's face as he leans even closer, nose touching the glass as he stares at you with furrowed brows.

You bite back on your frustration, "Jay, you remember him?"

"Jay? You mean m-" Your brother finally remembers the nickname you had for him when you were a mere child.

"Yes. He's leaving soon. The foster home he's been stuck in, well, they told me the conditions are just terrible," You explain with a soft chuckle while Jongho hangs onto every word that leaves your mouth, you glance to your side where another visitor sits just a couple of inches away conversing with an inmate, "So he's getting out of there."

It takes a second for the words to sink in before the confusion on his face is erased completely and replaced by disbelief.

"Jongho, do you understand?"

He's silent for a short moment, swallowing nervously before his eyes meet yours again, "I understand but...but Y/N, that's impossible."

You give your brother a comforting smile, "Not if you designed the place it isn't."

Jongho's eyes grow wide as saucers, "You're break-"

"Shut up." His mouth clamps shut immediately. "There's no other way."

"Y/N-" Your brother starts again, voice lower but you're too busy noticing that the woman next to you is standing up and with that, the tables on both of your sides will be empty. You lean as close to him you can get with the glass serving as a barrier between the two of you.

"I only have three minutes left, so listen to me." You tell him and he opens his mouth again to interject but you're quicker. The guards are by the wall, unmoving, it's only a matter of time before someone occupies the empty seats. You whisper to him, "The benches in the yard, they have a certain type of bolt in them that you'll need. Use a quarter to unscrew it, you only need one and for fuck's sake, make sure no-one sees you doing it."

"Wait, you're actually serious about this."

You suck in a sharp breath, swearing that if there wasn't the glass in front of you, you would've slapped him by now. "Well, I'm not exactly on vacation here Jongho, trust me."

He looks positively bamboozled.

"Do you understand what we need?" He needs a second before quickly nodding, you nod back, "Good, now tell me, your new cellmate..."

Jongho scoffs with an eyeroll, "It's some guy named Coin. A pain in my ass is what he is."

"Coin?" You question in confusion at the stupid name before quickly shaking his head, "Doesn't matter, can you trust him?"

"Trust who? Coin?" Jongho looks like you've grown a second head before explaining. "If you sewed the guy's mouth shut, he'd find a way to talk through his ass. A thief from what I heard, robbed a liquor store armed and ended up here." He eyes you, "Why do you wanna know so much about my cellmates anyway?"

"Because it won't work without your cellmate. We need him." You whisper back, eyes on the clock as the time ticks away. A minute left.

"There's no way to trust anyone in here, let alone him." Your brother comments lowly. Your eyes fall to the surface of the table in thought before you sigh. He looks at you like you've grown a second head, "You want me to tell him?"

You press your forehead against the glass separating you, the surface cool on your skin as you murmur, "If your cellmate isn't on board, there's no digging and if there's no digging then there's no getting out of here."

"I tell Coin, he'll yapp his mouth off to the rest and then it's over." Jongho mutters back, face set in carefully disguised panic.

"Well, it's just going to have to be a leap of faith then." You mutter to yourself before looking up at him, "Find out if you can trust him first and get the...thing from the yard," You glance at the guards by the door one last time, "I'll tell you what to do next but please, just be careful."

You don't want to even imagine what would happen to him if he were to get caught.

"Y/N, this is too dangerous, you can end up in tr-"

"Don't. Get. Caught." Is the last thing you say before your ten minutes are up and you're standing up from the chair, sparing your brother one last glance before heading towards the exit.

You swing your legs lightly from the chair as you watch Doctor Jung write something down behind his desk before he slides on his rolly chair over to you, getting so close that your knees almost brush.

He gives you a playful smile, cocking his head back a little to look at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. "You went to SNU."

You smile, rolling up the sleeve on your left arm and holding it out for him, "You've been checking up on me."

He shrugs at your comment, rubbing the soaked cotton ball over your arm with one hand while holding the needle in the other, "I like to get to know my patients, I graduated from there three years before you."

Your eyes are on the floor, not being able to stand the sight of him sinking the needle into your arm. You try not to think about it, instead focus on his devastatingly handsome face as you give him a quick smile, "Maybe we met before. Drunk, at a bar somewhere."

"Doubt it." Doctor Jung responds, you can feel him pulling the needle out and placing a clean cotton ball on your arm for you to hold, which you do. "I'm sure I would've remembered you."

Your brow ticks up as a flirty grin makes way to your face, "That a compliment?"

He glances at you, a smile of his own growing on his lips and if your eyes don't deceive you, a flush on his cheeks, "It is if you want it to be."

You just hum in response, gaze not backing away from his face that it makes him squirm and he stands up with a flustered cough. Your smile grows.

Too easy.

"Sit there for a little bit, I'll get your blood tests, they came from the lab an hour ago." He tells you, already heading to the door and refusing to look at you.

Cute.

The moment he disappears from view, you throw the cotton ball on the table next to you and walk over to the drain, pulling out two tubes and hurriedly squeezing out their contents through the slates on the grate.

The smell is strong but the sizzling is immediate and you shove the empty tubes back into the inner pockets of your blazer before sitting down on the chair the handsome doctor left you in.

You glance down at your arm where you placed back the cotton pad, staring at the small bottle inked onto your skin with the words 'Cute Poison' hanging above it.

Cute Poison, rather a mnemonic for copper sulfate and phosphoric acid that you carefully poured into two empty toothpaste tubes the night before in your own bathroom should get the job done as soon as the good doctor here confirms that you are, in fact, diabetic and need daily shots.

You did a lot of research on it in the months of preparation, never been much of a chemist.

But you did know one thing, when these two chemicals are mixed together, they will react violently and corrode metal.

You cast one last glance at water drainage under the sink before your attention is snatched away by Doctor Jung walking into the room with a clipboard.

He sits down on the same chair in front of you, flipping through the papers on it.

"Hmmm." He lets out and you bring your gaze from the floor over to him where he sits with his brows furrowed as he reads off of the papers.

"What?" You ask, trying not to seem too tense although the way your foot kicks up and down might give you away.

"Your blood glucose is at fifty milligrams per deciliter." Wooyoung says in mild confusion and maybe concern.

"So?" You question obtusely, playing dense being the better option in a situation like this despite knowing exactly what it means. But you're already feeling your heartbeat accelerate at the fact that the pills weren't fucking working.

Why weren't they working? You took one this morning before leaving. Did they need more time to kick in?

Your palms are already starting to sweat.

"Your body's reacting to the insulin as though you're not a diabetic. Are you sure it's Type 1 Diabetes you got?" He voices out with his attention on you.

You nod with lips pressed together before calmly answering; "Ever since I was a kid."

"Alright." He looks down to the chart again, "And you're not experiencing any tingling sensations, cold sweats?"

You silently shake your head with a sheepish smile, the shaky hand gripping the bottom of the chair you're sitting on.

Wooyoung takes a moment to go through the papers again before the ringing of the phone on his desk cuts through the silence (and your inner panic). He stands up to get it but not before turning to you;

"I'd like to run some tests the next time you're in." Wooyoung informs you with his lips folded in a pout that you think comes naturally to him when he's serious. He might not even be aware of it. Cute. But you're in deep shit, you don't have the time to think about that. "The last thing I want is to be administering insulin to a girl who doesn't need it."

You feign a smile as you stand up as well, "Yeah, sure."

He takes a moment to gauge your face again but the phone keeps ringing. The doctor sighs, glancing at it, "Okay."

You head for the door and towards your small, cramped office feeling utterly worried.

Once you reach your office, you close the door shut and stare at your hand that shakes uncontrollably. If the pills, PUGNAC, didn't work and he discovers that you're not diabetic, the whole plan falls through.

No, no, no. You can't think like that Y/N, you tell yourself, have a little faith.

The guy who got them for you said that they were insulin blockers, the real deal.

So they're supposed to work but maybe they need more time. Wooyoung gave you your first shot three days ago, that's when you started to take the pills each morning.

Maybe they needed more time to kick in.

They'll work.

They have to.

Hongjoong deemed himself as a fairly smart guy.

Sure, he was in prison currently serving two life sentences but he did manage to get away with his crimes for years on years before he eventually and inevitably got caught, that had to count for something, right?

So, yes, Hongjoong was a smart guy.

Which is exactly why the moment they walked him into the visitations room and sat him down in front of a complete stranger when usually, only Jeongin would visit him, Hongjoong knew that something was brewing.

He stays quiet, eyeing the guy who seems to be about his age as the guard cuffs him to the table and Hongjoong sighs in annoyance, so many unnecessary precautions. Where the hell would he even go if he tried to run from here?

The moment the guard steps further away, Hongjoong turns to the stranger.

"Who the fuck are you?" Hongjoong stares at the man's face, trying to gauge if he might know him from somewhere but when he comes up blank, he waits for the man's response.

"I'm just here to deliver a message to you Mr. Kim." The man answers, he's in a suit and tie, all perfectly ironed, hair brushed back and an expensive watch hanging from his wrist.

If anyone else were to see him, they'd probably think he worked a cozy office job and drank scotch like a pretentious fuck when he visited bars but Hongjoong can recognize a thug when he sees one.

"I'm not taking any messages, thanks." Hongjoong dryly responds, already moving to call the guard over before he gets stopped by the man's voice again.

"You might want to take this message." Hongjoong freezes in place when he sees the photo the guy presses to the glass and it causes him to sit his ass back down on the chair once again.

Thrilled, he leans in closer, observing the photo, eyes stuck on the familiar face that's been plaguing his mind for the last four years.

"Gunwoo..." Hongjoong mutters to himself, eyeing the familiar man in the photo before turning his attention back to the stranger, "You know where he is."

"I don't." The stranger responds and Hongjoong almost deflates about to curse him out until the man continues, "But the person who sent me here, does."

That puzzles Hongjoong and he stays quiet, deep in thought for a long moment. "What do you want? I don't have time for games."

Well, that was a lie. He had two life sentences worth of time but he just wasn't in the mood right now.

"The person who sent me here told me to pass on a message which is that you should speak to Choi Jongho."

Hongjoong frowns at that, growing perpetually more confused the more he sits here.

Choi Jongho was brought in a little over a year ago, Hongjoong remembers it well.

It's hard to forget a kid that killed the Vice President's brother in cold blood. It was all over the news, spread even through the prison like wildfire among the guards. He was the talk of town when they first brought him into his cell.

But once everyone realized that he was kind of boring, just sticking to his cell and one and the same corner of the yard, everyone slowly forgot about him. He didn't do much of anything else to remain remembered, just a guy that killed someone and was now serving life.

Guys like that are a dime a dozen in here.

So why the hell was someone sending him a message to speak to Choi Jongho?

"And Choi knows where Gunwoo is?" Hongjoong asks. Finding Gunwoo was the most important thing for now, he honestly couldn't care less how he'd have to get that information out of anyone.

Let alone Choi Jongho. If he knew where Gunwoo was, Hongjoong wouldn't even try to play whatever game someone wants him to, just ten minutes alone with him during P.I. time and a pair of claw scissors and Hongjoong would get what he wants out of him.

"No." The stranger responds and Hongjoong has to bite back another groan, growing more pissed off by the second.

"Then what?" He snaps back, eyes set in a glare as his patience starts getting tested. "Who knows?"

"The same person who sent me here and is pulling my own strings." The stranger remarks with his lips pursued as if he's nervous.

He should be, Hongjoong thinks because if he finds out that all of this is a scam he'll make sure his people find this man.

"When you go up to talk to Choi Jongho, you need to give him something."

Hongjoong can't believe what he's hearing. What the hell is he supposed to give him? Money? For information Choi apparently doesn't have?

"What?" He asks bluntly, agitated.

The man places something on the table in front of him and Hongjoong peers at the small object through the glass before letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

Gato was snoring obnoxiously on the lower bunk and it felt like someone was grating Hongjoong's nerves as he leaned against the bars of the cell, peering up and down the long two floors of identical cells until his eyes stopped on a specific one.

Choi Jongho mimicked Hongjoong's position in his own cell on the upper floor opposite of him. His hands hanging from the bar as he stares through the bars to the lower floor, eyes empty and unfocused.

Hongjoong spent the rest of the time in the yard after visitation observing Choi, wanting to see if the younger man would do anything, give him some sort of signal, something. But the kid didn't so much as glance at him. Only kept to his little corner of the yard with his obnoxiously loud cellmate hanging around him.

Did Choi Jongho even know Hongjoong was told to approach him?

Hongjoong stared at the kid's face, his dark hair was curling around his ears and he'd look younger than he actually was if it wasn't for the obvious muscle he was packing under his sweatshirt.

"I should also warn you that if anything were to happen to Choi Jongho...or myself after this visit is over, you'll never find out where Gunwoo is." The stranger discloses and Hongjoong wants to let out a laugh.

"Like I give a fuck, I'm already serving life plus one man, I don't care for Gunwoo." That was a lie but he got caught red handed, Hongjoong's first plan was most definitely to hurt Choi for information.

"I think you have much more at stake here Mr. Kim considering that if Gunwoo testifies, your family hidden in Osaka would be left vulnerable and all the assets that allow them to live lavishly while you're in here would disappear. Isn't that why you're trying to find him in the first place? So all the enemies you've made over the years don't target your loved ones." Hongjoong's face drops and he raises his arm to slap the glass in front of him but before his anger could get the best of him, he leans in closer to the man sitting opposite of him.

"Who are you?" Hongjoong hisses, cheeks flushing in anger as he glares down the stranger.

"I told you already, I'm just someone sent in here with orders to talk to you."

Hongjoong inhales a deep breath, getting tired of playing this silly game.

"I have the people to find Gunwoo myself. I don't need anyone else playing detective for me in exchange for whatever it is they want." Hongjoong states with his arms crossed, not being used to anyone seeing him with his defenses down. Playing the one not in charge was never his forte.

"That may be but whoever is pulling my strings isn't just offering Gunwoo's location." The stranger voices out, leaning in closer to the glass window with a glint in his eye, "They're offering you an opportunity to get Gunwoo yourself."

And well, that definitely peaked Hongjoong's interest.

Hongjoong kicks Gato's leg which immediately stirs him from deep sleep and causes the bigger man to open his eyes. "Wake up, knucklehead."

"What, boss?" The man asks in a gruff voice, lightly sitting up on the uncomfortable bunk bed.

Hongjoong really can't believe that he's about to ask this, as he turns to his cellmate holding out a piece of paper.

"What do you know about making dove origamis?"

Your nerves were skyrocketing as you walked down the hallway leading to the infirmary, remembering that the good doctor was supposed to run "some tests" today as he promised during your last visit.

You were an optimist by nature, always holding onto the last shred of faith no matter how miniscule it was but your brain couldn't help but taunt you, what if the pills didn't work this time either? What if you got the wrong prescription? What if...

Hence the nerves.

"Hello." You greet quietly, walking into the room where Doctor Jung was already sitting with a kit prepared in front of him.

"How are we doing today, Miss Y/N?" He asks casually, motioning for you to sit on the usual chair in front of him.

Immediately, you find your way over there and plop down on the chair, "I'm good."

He looks at you with a faint smile, honey skin looking healthy and smooth under the sunshine beaming through the infirmary windows. "Everything good on the construction site?"

You barely register his question, too busy watching as he takes your index finger and swabs it, getting ready to administer the test.

"Uh, yeah." You respond distractedly, the fact that needles made you queasy didn't exactly help calm the nerves.

He gives you a weird look, probably expecting a flirty response but you weren't in the mood today. What happened next could make or break the plan you've spent the last year making and you can only watch as he punctures the skin, drawing blood and applies a testing pad to take the blood from your finger.

You observe his actions, clearing your throat. "How long does this take?" "It used to take hours, but we've come a long way with the new glucose kits. This'll take us about ten seconds." Doctor Jung explains with ease and you look away in apprehension when he continues to speak; "Slide this strip into the meter then we're ready to go." After he places the strip into the meter, he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'm sure you know this but, the average glucose for a non-diabetic is about one hundred milligrams per deciliter. We see a number like that here and we know you've been misdiagnosed."

You're starting to feel ill. What's even worse, you probably look ill. But you can't help but fidget around, scratching the inside of your sweaty palm as you turn your head to glance at the grate under the sink.

You could feel blood rush to your head the more you think about what the hell you were to do if the diabetic excuse fell through. With a soft sigh, you bring a hand up to rub your temple out of habit. "You seem nervous." Doctor Jung softly remarks, bringing your attention back to the fact that he can see you. Can notice you quietly losing your shit.

How the hell do you fix that?

Turn on the charm again, Y/N. It doesn't matter if you're pale as a ghost. He likes you. Your lips perk up and eyebrows raise in an act of amused surprise, you hope your face is at least a little bit distracting enough for him to let it go, "I do?" To your surprise and chagrin, he doesn't bat an eye though, "You're sweating." You shake your head, mouth pulled in a sheepish smile, "Must be the needles. Never got used to them." The beep of the meter brings your full focus from Wooyoung to the meter itself. "Somehow, with diabetes and that tattoo, I find that hard to believe." He comments quietly and it sends a zap through you, your weird behavior undoubtedly will be raising suspicion if you don't get it together. It also might be harder to have the good doctor wrapped around your finger than you thought. You pull the sleeve of your shirt down to cover your tattooed arm.

Wooyoung takes the meter, reading the results off of it as you straighten up in your chair.

"Ah. Bad news I'm afraid." You hold your breath, feeling like your heart is in your throat when he turns the meter towards you with his lips pressed together. "One hundred and eighty milligrams per deciliter. You are definitely diabetic."

Relief floods your body with such strength that you seem to forget yourself in front of him as you try to suppress the huge smile threatening to take over your features that you have to lower your gaze to your lap. They worked. The pills finally worked.

But then you feel his curious eyes on you and you quickly straighten out in the chair again. Doctor Jung looks at you with brows slightly furrowed in obvious puzzlement as to why someone would look so happy to find out they are in fact diabetic and you figure that you need to leave immediately. "Do you need anything else from me?" You ask, suddenly feeling rejuvenated and he looks perplexed as he shakes his head at you. "Just an arm to stick a needle in." You give him a big smile, nodding and getting up. "Okay."

But just as you're about to reach the door you slow down in your steps; the way he was looking at you, the curiosity not sitting too well with you. Because you know there will be a time when you will have to do questionable things, if something simple as this test raised suspicion then there was no hope in the long run.

You had to gain at least a sliver of his trust, grow some type of bond between the two of you where you could act a little foolish and he'd look past it without second thought because he didn't consider you to be a danger of any kind.

Only way to do that though was something you weren't awfully good at; being vulnerable.

You clear your throat, turning to him again to see Wooyoung already going through another pile of papers.

"I am scared of them. Needles." You tell him truthfully, probably the first truth you told him ever since you meet him a week ago. He looks up from the papers in surprise that you're still in the infirmary with him, his hair falling into his face that he has to run a hand through it to get it out of the way.

Wooyoung stays silent, brows stitching together and it's obvious he doesn't quite buy it as he glances down at your tattoos. The thing is, he doesn't know why you're lying but he knows that you are.

Which is a problem in itself.

You follow his eyes that are still stuck on your bare arm as the sleeves of your button up are rolled up to your elbows. You chuckle, folding your hands behind your back to hide them from view.

"It's not the same with the tattoos." You tell him and for the first time around him because you're feeling a little stupid since you can't explain yourself, you blush. "I don't know how but...I mean I think it has something to do with the veins and holding my hands out like this-" You stretch out your arms so your veins are showcased, "It makes me feel at unease."

Wooyoung listens to you carefully, papers long forgotten as he sits at the edge of the table.

"That's the most textbook example of how someone with trypanophobia would feel." He voices out, his attention entirely devoted to you that it makes you slightly shift on your feet. As much as you enjoy his eyes on you, they also make you equally as nervous.

"Huh," You chuckle, glancing away with your lips pressed together in discomfort under his dissecting gaze.

"Well, at least you know that you could never be a junkie." He adds in a lighthearted tone that you almost miss the way the smile doesn't entirely reach his eyes. Almost.

"Right." You chuckle, taking a step back as you deem the conversation to be over. You send him a small wave as you head for the door.

"See you tomorrow." He calls after you and you just keep walking without looking back.

When you walk out into the cold morning air the next morning on your way to the construction site, your head instinctively turns towards the yard where the inmates were already released to and spot a familiar figure lingering near the fence closest to you.

Jongho straightens out with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of the same jacket everyone else in the yard is wearing when he sees you walk out of the building and you inconspicuously glance around for any guards.

Once you realize that there aren't any in the vicinity nearby, you make your way across the gravel towards him.

"That outfit really highlights your figure, bro." Is the first thing you tell him with a teasing smirk as you stop to stand in front of him. He chuckles but it has no humor as he looks over his shoulder before turning to you.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not here to discuss prison fashion." He mutters with an eyeroll but you can see a glimpse of an amused smile threatening to pull on his face and your chest warms at the sight. "Listen, I got what you asked for."

He pats the right pocket of his pants subtly where you presume he's hidden the bolt and you nod in approval.

"You really meant what you said, huh?" Jongho asks again, referencing your last visit and you let out another huff of disbelief that he didn't take you as seriously as you hoped he would.

"I already told you, I'm not here on vacation."

He stares at you for a silent moment before clearing his throat, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there's still no-one around to listen in.

"Whatever you got going on, fill me in because I'm still in the dark here." He expresses quietly, eyebrows pushed together as he waits for a response. You sigh.

"Lim and Associates got the contract to retro this place in ninety nine. Four billion dollar contract, head partner couldn't crack it, so he subcontracted out. An under the table sort of deal with a former associate." You quietly explain, turning to stand sideways in front of him to not seem too suspicious while still being able to be on lookout for any guards that might be watching you.

Although that doesn't seem to be a problem since, with the exception of the officers stationed on the four towers surrounding the compound, most of them are still having their morning coffee in the break room.

"That guy was one of the partners in my firm. We basically ghostwrote the plan, crossed the t's, dotted the I's, grouted the tiles." You tell him, lips perking up in satisfaction as you watch him digest the information.

Jongho seems confused as he digests the new information, probably trying to connect what that has anything to do with your current situation of supervising a construction site while planning a detailed prison escape.

"You've seen the blueprints." He concludes before his face turns serious, "If anyone finds out you have copies of them, you'll be in deep shit. They can report you for missing documents at work, Y/N-"

You snort, "They won't find them because I don't have them on paper anywhere."

His brows furrow, "You memorized them?"

"Better than that," You disclose, subtly pulling the sleeve of your coat and shirt underneath to show him your inked arm, "I have them on me."

Jongho stares at the tattoo's lining your forearm with wide eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He hisses, glancing over his shoulder again. You imagine that you always have to be on guard in a place like this. "Am I supposed to be seeing something there?"

"Don't worry about that." You calmly respond, tugging your sleeves down before shoving your hands back into the pockets of your coat, "Your cellmate...how well do you know him?"

"Ah, as well as a man can get to know another man in a week." Jongho sighs, head turning in the direction of a tall guy huddled on the bench conversing with a couple of others. You observe him in curiosity, guessing that's your brother's roommate, watching as the guy glances in Jongho's direction before his eyes stop on you. "We can trust him."

He doesn't look much older than Jongho, you can't gauge his features that well from this distance especially with his dark fringe covering his forehead obstructing his eyes from view.

The guy, Coin, nods at you.

"At first I thought it was a lost cause, he has eighteen months left in here." Jongho states making you turn to him in concern that his cellmate wouldn't want in. If he got caught, he'd be adding years to his sentence. Jongho was already serving life but others weren't, they could lose more than they could possibly gain if they got caught. Jongho grins, "But then he found out his cousin is making a move on his girl the other day and getting out of here become his priority."

You scoff, hiding a smile as you mutter, "Men."

You return Coin's subtle nod and he immediately glances away, like he never even saw you.

"Also," Jongho shuffles through the pockets of his jacket again before he pulls out a small paper object. An origami dove. He glances to somewhere on the yard and you follow his gaze when it stops on a two toned head of hair sitting at what seems to be a usual bench for him and his cronies. "Kim?"

"Ah," You chuckle, not being able to hide a smile as your eyes fly back to your brother who seems peeved by your reaction, "He got my message."

"Y/N, being involved with that guy can't be a good idea. He's crazy." Jongho comments, frustration clear as day on his face.

"Maybe but he's your express ticket out of here." You calmly voice out, glancing at the guards room to make sure the door remained shut.

"How?"

"You ever heard of Top Flight Charters?" You ask him, shivering lightly in the cold air as you watch a group of inmates play basketball on the small makeshift court of the yard.

"Yeah." Jongho nods, confused.

"They operate flights from small air fields. Like the one ten miles from here. They're run by a shell company Kim Hongjoong owns." You explain to him, inching closer to the fence, "We get him on board there's going to be a midnight flight waiting for you the night you get outside those walls."

"You're willing to risk the entire escape on a guy you don't even know?" He hisses, hands curling around the wired fence.

You sigh, "Preparation can only take you so far, Jongho." You tell him, looking up at the Correction Officers stationed on the tower behind his back, "After that you just have to take a few leaps of faith."

Jongho chuckles in disbelief, acting as if you're not understanding the weight of the situation, "Kim is a huge leap of faith, Y/N."

You nod once again, understanding that completely, "Definitely but apart from fixing you a flight, he also runs P.I. Tell him to give you and your new roommate a job there."

"P.I....Prison Industries?" He questions and you nod, glancing over your shoulder to check the guards room once again.

Jongho stays quiet, seemingly lost in his thoughts and you give him some time as your eyes scope out the yard once again.

"Y'know, getting out of here is just the beginning." He utters, "We're gonna need money if we plan on disappearing."

Your head turns to where Park Seonghwa sits, his cat Mijoo nestled in his lap as he softly strokes her. "I'm working on it."

"They'll come for you as well, you do know that right?"

You meet his gaze straight on. "Of course I know that."

That seems to make something shift on Jongho's face, something heavy appearing in his eyes. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do this?" Your brother asks, sad expression on his face as he presses his lips together in anguish, "You're throwing away your life, everything you worked so hard for all these years."

Your eyes start to burn as you clench your jaw, anger burning your insides at his question, acting like he's not your only family. Like he didn't raise you. "I wouldn't have any of it if it wasn't for you so don't ask me stupid fucking questions. You're my brother."

Jongho seems to understand your feelings, his own eyes misting over before he nods, gaze falling down to the soft grass below his feet, seemingly giving up on talking you out of this, "So...what now? What should I do next?"

You clear your throat, "Tell Kim to hire you and your cellmate at P.I. first, he should know what for by now but if he asks anything or tries to do something to hurt you, mention 7th March of next year. He'll understand. It's the date when a witness is supposed to testify against him in court and send his entire empire crumbling down."

Jongho nods again, soaking up every word.

"You're in cell forty, right?"

After another nod, you explain to him as quickly as you can just how he'll use the bolt he stole from the bleachers.

"When you break the wall, don't do anything else. Return the toilet the way it was, screw it back on and wait." You hurriedly finish and he quickly nods in confirmation that he understood before you take a couple of steps back when you see from the corner of your eye the door of the guards room opening.

You can't even tell Jongho goodbye because you're already making your way across the gravel with your head ducked down.

But not before sparing one last glance at the yard and connecting eyes with none other than Kim Hongjoong who now stands by the fence and stares directly at you.

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst

57 notes · View notes

possumsarenice · 2 years ago

Text

Various DCA x Reader AU ideas from my list, (part 1(?))

Feel free to take what you like, but please tag me if you do

*Sun and Moon somehow get magic-ed into being human. Y/N and Faz Ent. know this and Y/N takes the boys in. I just want funny shenanigans with the boys getting used to being human, like:

Getting tired (low power probably was more like hunger)

Taste (imagine Y/N cooking for them or taking them to a restaurant they like so their first experience with food is the best they can offer)

Being weaker and pulling out your back/arms/etc. (Seriously, Moon could drag FREDDY single handedly, this would be a huge change for them)

Any other abilities they had like night vision that is now gone

Being able to not only leave the Plex whenever they want, but also being able to go anywhere they (or for the first few months Y/N) can afford

Going home after work instead of living there

Everyone always writes Y/N having bad self-care habits, which I do not disagree with in the slightest, but imagine if Sun and Moon both have difficulty taking care of their new bodies (in part because of habits built from when they could do this without something bad happening and in part because Faz Ent.’s “““incredible””” treatment) so Y/N gets onto THEM about their horrible self-care

Building off that last one, Y/N still has bad self-care habits and is a HUGE hypocrite about this, but now the boys are too

Taking the boys places, like zoos, aquariums, and planetariums to name some expensive ones

*I’ve seen apocalypse AU fics where reader the boys meet in the apocalypse zombie apocalypse, but imagine: Reader and the boys are already dating when the nuclear apocalypse starts. Sun and Moon go to charge but the start of the apocalypse cuts the power off so they’re have 0 battery. Y/N finds a base and drags the boys there before they can become scrap parts for someone seeing them as lifeless animatronics. It takes them between 6 months to a year and a half to get a safe way to charge the boys’ batteries in the long term. I’m that time, Y/N experiences the crushing new way of life all alone. Nearly freezing to death every day (no, this isn’t a Fallout styled desert, it’s nuclear winter setting) and having to fight for basic necessities tends to mentally destroy a person. Not in a insanity way (for Y/N at least) but in a “Doing things you’d thought you’d rather die then do” way. Eventually, the boys wake to a disheveled YN sobbing tears of relief and joy in a diy bunker. After calming down, YN explains what happened and also confesses they did some unsavory things in order to survive, but are vague about details. So basically, Sun and Moon are “that guy who was in a coma for the first part of the apocalypse” who also have to deal with a very broken Y/N. Bonus idea, Y/N ticked someone off and the boys, as much as they hate to admit, understand perfectly why the other person is out for vengeance (they don’t leave Y/N, but they do agree with both the person and Y/N when they say Y/N was the bad guy). Also, I could imagine a plot point where the boys leaving the base because YN was taking too long, and ending up saving Y/N after they almost died over one tiny mistake (i.e. forgetting to bring some emergency flares), while this whole ordeal making it finally realize just how cold (literally and metaphorically) their new world is

*Y/N is a dog person and runs a small rescue shelter they live in. One night, they wake up to a call about two massive dogs in someone’s yard. They go to get the dogs, only to find they look more like wolves and have weird markings, one shaped like the sun one and one shaped like the moon on the other, on their fur. But to Y/N, canine is canine, and Y/N has no self-preservation whatsoever so they take the wolves into the shelter. The next morning Y/N goes to the kennel the two wolves were in to find two guys with the same sun and moon shapes on their chest. Y/N freaks out before the two guys explain that they’re werewolves named Sun and Moon and Y/N caught them on the full moon. They do something to prove it and Y/N apologizes for taking them. The two remind Y/N that they convinced them to go of their own free will as wolves, and express that their more concerned that Y/N saw two human sized wolves and went “obviously friend”. They group makes small talk, and just as Y/N is about to let them go on their way, they learn the two are homeless and offers them a job at the shelter. While both uncertain, they accept. Funky shenanigans ensue as the trio tries to hide the fact that two of them can understand the animals and also really want the treats.

#dca fandom #sun x y/n #moon x y/n #sun x reader #moon x reader #daycare attendant x y/n #daycare attendant x reader #dcamv #Might make more

23 notes · View notes

butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 7 months ago

Text

I'm deeply ready for the days off I've planned for myself, including PRIDE night for me and wifey (and maybe some new clothes to go with? Neither of us have had a new outfit in over a year. I think maybe for wifey for sure, as her wardrobe always take harder and faster hits than mine does)

I've got a nice four day lil 4 day weekend, and a 3 day weekend to follow, so hopefully by the end of it, I will be feeling much better rested and will have gotten a few things handked around the house.

God and I have our anniversary to plan for next month already, and I'm still neck deep in initial planning for our tenth so I honestly don't even know what that's gonna look like. Maybe just a nice dinner at our favorite place? And maybe buying a new movie to watch together and cuddle. A nice jug of cider for me to spice up.

Lord I'm just tired all the time lmao, and I'm trying to get myself in order, but I'm just usually so busy or exhausted or we've run thru the paycheck for the week, or whatever the fuck.

We definitely need to buy and build the chicken run first thing during my long weekend, because it's almost butchering day for the waffles, and the ladies are almost big enough to deserve real exercise space (the hen house is huge lol, and until now genuinely has been big enough for them all to not need outdoor space at all). They can managw another week together in there with no consequences, but after that, they're gonna need their outdoor run.

I think I'll buy the berry bushes and the fencing supplies all in one go so I don't have to worry about coming back to it later and disrupting the ladies. Which really means I need to find a local nursery with native berry bushes, because I don't feel up to driving all the way down the mountain to Ream in the same weekend if I don't have to. I can save that trip for picking up our trees later in the sunmer.

Man, I really am looking forward to having the garden set up and the ladies grown enough to lay. Free fresh eggs are a huge relief on our budget, especially if we keep doing periodic waves of meat birds to keep cutting down our meat budget alongside it. I'm thinking probably 2-3 sets of meat birds per year, maybe a dozen each time? I'm never doing Cornish Rocks again tho, these little abominations are a disaster to raise. Literally every bird we lost (4 total) was a fuckin Waffle, and they always died for the stupidest reasons. One literally just ate too much and then passed out for a nap under the heat lamp until he got heat stroke because he didn't bother also hydrating???? The only other birds I've raised with this kind of mortality rate are fuckin great white turkeys and they drown in the goddamn rain. Apparently it's not just us either. If I'd taken the time to research more instead of trusting the meat and egg chick mix, I'd have seen all the other homesteaders online panicking about half their flock dying and meing warned by more experienced folks that Cornishes are really only viable for industrial scale farming that can reliably take those kinds of losses. In retrospect, now that I *do* know that, I'm almost proud we managed to keep 80% of our Waffles alive.

Point being, I'm never going through that again. There are plenty of heritage meat birds, and I'll be sticking with them please and thank you.

I've considered starting to do rabbit too? It would cut down on our pet food costs a fair bit, and then maybe I could co-graze themand the chickens in a tractor along the yard to manage overgrowth of ground cover. I'd prefer a goat obvi, but I don't think the council will let me have one, even if wifey would lmao. That's definitely a later thing tho. Gotta get the humans more sustainably fed before I can consider any new livestock lmao

I think the chicken run, the berry bushes, the first order of seeds, and a chest freezer are probably the major expenses this coming paycheck. We might be able to postpone the chest freezer? Our freezer isn't overly full at present, and I think could actually fit 20 processed Waffles if needed. We'll need one soon regardless tho, cuz it definitely won't fit the next butchering day product at that point, nor the frozen fruits, veggies, and easy preps we'll be starting to make over the summer. So if not this pay period, then the next one.

God, I guess that means I should prep all my orders so I can place them first thing on Friday when I get paid, and price out the batches. Ughhhh I'm so busy today, that's gonna be hard to make time for during my breaks, and after work it's dinner and eorzea time, plus probably some tidying.

Awww fuck i gotta bring in the washing too and maybe do another load.

Whatever. Point is, I'm gonna be busy for a while. Which is good. But also means I have less time to sit and think and write which does make me a lil sad. It's just until harvest season is through tho! Once everything is planted and plucked and canned and stored, I'll be back to having time for other things. I'm probably gonna prioritize my writing and my sewing thru the winter so I can be ready for fiber processing in spring and publishing season in summer/fall. I'll want to get back to the zine soon too, because I really do want to add in the documentation I've been building around appalachian riperians

Lordt

Someone needs to tell my brain to pick a goddamn lane. This is how I end up pulled in so many directions that nothing gets done lmao

4 notes · View notes

plothooksinc · 2 years ago

Text

WIP meme follow up:

Chapter One

Extremely vague, that one. Congrats, this is one of two original fics on the list! This is my novel attempt. (I mean yes, Chapter One doesn't sound very far along, but in my defence the Prologue before this was over 45 pages and this is rewrite/replot number like three so--)

The prologue covers in flashes the life of one young girl from about age five to thirteen and her adventures with her Imaginary Friend (Narrator's Voice: he was not in fact imaginary.) Said Friend was apparently six years older, and the last time she heard from him he said "Yeah uh, actually I'm old enough to fight now and there's a war, so gotta go, I'll come back if I'm not dead," but he sounds very unsure about this and that's the last she hears from him. (Until the end of chapter one, when she is sixteen and has just attended her uncle's funeral, when he's going to turn up with literal demons on his heels and say OH HEY SO IT TURNS OUT THERE'S A REASON YOU'RE THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN HEAR ME I'M HERE TO WARN YOU OF AN ATTEMPT ON YOUR LIFE-- WAIT NO NEVER MIND TOO LATE and her life upends into utter ruin, because I'm just nice like that.)

Anyway, I haven't got to that part yet. Thus far, there is a funeral, and our heroine is beginning to think she's a little weird:

“I tell you, Rae,” he said dolefully. “Funeral directors these days have no taste. It’d be nice if your aunt just had permission to bury me in the back yard, don’t you think?”

Her heart was hammering in her chest. Rachel shot a wild look at her aunt; she was still staring into space. And nobody else in the room reacted to his presence in the slightest. Which led her to a logical conclusion. She took a breath, trying to calm down.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?” she asked.

Sol raised an eyebrow. “Did you? If you did, there’s no point asking me that.”

Rachel gaped at him.

Her uncle chuckled. “Though if you did fall asleep, I couldn’t blame you.”

“Then why are you here?” she said at last, her voice surprisingly steady.

Sol gestured around the room. “I always wanted to attend my own funeral. Though I’m not sure why. This is exactly as I thought it would be.”

tl;dr Rachel is a throwback descendant from a whole 'nother world and that whole 'nother world is about to make it very much a problem. High fantasy, dimension jumping, and bringing a gun to a magic fight. Also, demons, demons everywhere, and a war. (But screw all that, she just wants to find her not-so-imaginary friend and possibly throttle him. Or hug him. One of the two.)

#wip meme #original fiction

7 notes · View notes

rogueshadeaux · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter Ten — Settling

Was it Mom? Was it what happened in the alley? My eyes trailed off, looking away — I couldn’t stand seeing Dad like that — and instead landed on the height chart of him and his brother. Reggie. Dad never told us much about him beyond his name, a few stories about how he always bailed Dad out of trouble — but I didn’t know how he died. Did this run deeper than just Mom? Was Dad haunted by his brother? Could be his parents too — if they died from the Ray Field Plague, then that means they weren’t Conduits. He didn’t…he couldn’t be blaming himself for that either, right?

3.2 words | 10 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: familial loss

We all eventually collapsed on our various spaces in the living room, Dad taking the couch and sleeping at our heads after we had a huddled movie night around Dad’s phone. Morning came with the sudden noisy hum of the fridge and the HVAC’s heating pushing through, that weird stench of it not being used recently filling the house. “Oh, electricity’s on, good,” Dad mumbled huskily, relaxing. “We can do the basement today.”

Well, we were gonna, until Dad forced study time on us.

I don’t know how he could expect us to be able to study for exams with everything that had happened. And to think this was literally all I wanted to do — study, stress about exams, only have the mundane to worry about. It felt superficial now to frantically try to find study material for AP Lit since my textbook was a state away.

Dad made us split his phone, Brent stealing it to open up tabs on Chemistry while I sort of fumbled around. At least I had a study packet — otherwise this would have been useless. Dad took to disappearing through a door in the hall while we slummed away at our studying, trying hard to actually pretend to care.“This is stupid,” I heard Brent mutter.

“You’re one to talk,” I whispered back, “Architecture just got way easier for you. You can just make your little buildings whenever you want. How the fuck am I supposed to use water in art?”

“Watercolors.” He tried to deadpan, failing as an amused smirk slid on his face. “It’s in the name.”

I raised a hand and flicked my fingers towards him, water condensing on their tips and flinging onto his face. He sputtered, flinching with the splash and then warning me how I was so lucky he couldn’t do the same.

Betty eventually saved us from the torture, the trunk of her little Beetle full of refrigerated essentials; milk, eggs. A tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream she insisted counted. Dad emerged, a box in hand, greeting Betty with a joking, “Finally — thought you were trying to get out of helping us unpack,”

“I would never!” Betty balked. “I’m not one to pass up being nosy, Delsin, you know that.”

“And yet you’d always yell at me for it,” Dad rolled his eyes.

“Well it was my job to make sure you grew up better than me, after all,”

Dad made Brent help with moving the mattresses into the master bedroom, a task made far easier and yet absolutely hectic as he went to pull the mattress up and instead launched it towards the ceiling, knocking the spinning fan and making it wobble around.

The sound made poor Betty jump in place, her ankles popping with the sudden movement as Dad launched forward to catch the mattress before it tumbled into the fireplace. “Jesus Christ, Brent,” Dad breathed out on a laugh, struggling to balance the mattress in the air before pushing it to the side, away from the fire.

Brent was 3 shades redder than normal, muttering apologies that Dad waved off. But he wasn’t willing to drop the subject yet. “I mean, I got stronger when I got my powers, but not like this,”

“Do you think it’s his powers, perhaps?” Betty chimed in, hand still clasped to her chest.

“I mean, if his skin can turn metal, why not muscles?” I added.

Dad nodded slowly, messing with the 5 o’clock shadow that was overgrowing on him quick like a yard after a storm before suddenly slapping his hand on Brent’s bicep. “Flex.” He demanded.

“Dad—“ Brent stressed, somehow getting redder.

“C’mon son,” Dad insisted. “I’m not asking you to strip or anything,”

Way he was acting though, Dad may as well have.

Brent was the sporty one, football in the fall and baseball in the spring with weightlifting in between, and has always been on the stronger side. The bigger side. But now, with the room being warm enough to not need a carhart and with his sleeves rolled up, I realized he did look different. Not bigger, but like…defined, I guess. The muscles in his arm were showing more now instead of coexisting with his skin, straining the hem on the arm of his Akomish Rez shirt.

Brent relented, tensing his arm under Dad’s grip. His hand moved violently, his skin refusing to dimple under Dad’s grip when he gave a gentle squeeze. “Holy shit, Brent, I think Jean is right,”

Brent became our sideshow, being poked and prodded as we realized his muscles were, literally, solid steel. I copied Dad when Brent was doing his full mimicry, flicking his bicep and flinching away at the pain of hitting steel. “That’s not fair! Why didn’t I get that?” I complained. Why does he get to be the cool superhero with the pecks and the bull-like strength?

These Conduit powers better have at least erased my lactose intolerance.

Betty took my place, asking Brent and Dad a million questions like your power is steel? and are you doing that voluntarily? I moved back a few steps, leaned back against the same wall I was on when they pulled into the driveway, watching Dad and Betty fuss over him, encouraging him to go full steel to see if it would affect anything.

Dad and Brent were in the middle of seeing if he could concentrate making only a single part of his body a normal epidermis when he yelped, jumping suddenly as the little circular red magnet I threw stuck itself to his forehead with a loud CLACK.

“Huh,” I said, smirking a bit as Brent glared at me. “So you’re probably not stainless steel,”

“You couldn’t think of any other way to test that?”

“Shut up before I stick a report card on you.”

“She has a point,” Dad said, peeling the magnet off of Brent’s forehead. “Aren’t there a bunch of different kinds of steel? We should test and see if you have any limitations. In fact,” he looked over at me. “I want to do that for both of you, later today. See how far you can take your powers. After that, we’ll have to…well, we’ll have to train you to fight—“

“Oh, Delsin, you don’t think that’s necessary—“ Betty began.

“They need to. Whoever sent those Akurans to attack us in Portland isn’t going to give up.” Dad looked at Betty, something pleading in his eyes. “They’ve got to learn to protect themselves in case I…if I can’t…”

I never understood what people meant when they said silence could be deafening. Yeah, sure, there've been instances that the silence seemed to speak louder than words; that bad comedy bit during the talent show that one time, the assembly when we were told our 3rd grade teacher had passed. But deafening? I hadn’t really gotten that until now. Dad’s voice died off, his face almost distressed as he shot back to whatever memory was holding him captive.

Brent turned full human again, the action pulling Betty’s attention from Dad’s gaze and prompting her to say, “Well, let’s at least get the house more livable before you do any of that. You two move the beds to the room, Regina and I will start bringing up boxes from the basement.”

That was enough to change the atmosphere of the room, Dad nodding and then making a joke of warning Brent not to send the bed through the roof the next time he lifts it. Betty motioned for me to follow her, us leaving the boys to begin trying to fit the mattresses down the narrow hallway as she led me to the same door Dad emerged from earlier.

Most of the house was wood, a sort of vintage vibe stocked with paneling and patterned shag carpet that I imagine was older than Dad. Which is why the sudden dive into a modern looking staircase, followed by a steeled blue and gray hallway took me by surprise. It was like stepping back into the 21st century. There were three doors, Betty choosing the first on the right, which was already cracked open.

There weren’t as many boxes as I thought there’d be — sure, there were a good dozen, but they only took up half of the room. The other half was empty save for a yellow and white striped surfboard propped up against the soft artichoke colored walls, a pile of gray and white bedding absolutely covered in dust on the ground beside it. “Huh, I didn’t know Dad could surf!” I exclaimed, going to grip the board. Whenever we got to go to the beach, he’d never avoid the waves — but he never volunteered himself to try surfing, even when Brent did.

Betty, looking between two boxes and their labels, simply replied, “He doesn’t.”

Dad…doesn’t? Then whose…

I took a better look at the room: green, split halfway down the wall with a partitioned border that gave away to an eggshell shade. Dad hated green, to a comedic degree. The only time I’d ever gotten him in anything remotely green was my 6th grade Father Daughter Dance, and honestly, that was just for the fun of hearing his sarcastic quips about how he looked like Shrek the Ogre. All over a shirt! The entire suit wasn’t even green! His room wouldn’t willingly be green, not in a million years.

It was around this time that I noticed another box, a lone, small one helping hold the surfboard up. Gently leaning the board forward, I looked at the box, Reggie’s photography stuff written in a shaky form of Dad’s handwriting on top.

This was Reggie’s room.

A thousand questions ran through my head. Dad’s past was always sort of illusive; he’d shut down whenever we’d ask him about his past, would sort of trail off in the middle of a story when he did reveal anything, falling into nothing but pursed lips and sad eyes. At least, now I understood there was a layer of safety to why we never knew anything about anyone. But I just wanted to know, with the proof all right here; who was Reggie?

Betty definitely wasn’t the person to ask, though. She probably knew him, but Dad deserved the chance to make good on that honesty promise.

Instead of satiating a single question, I asked Betty, “What kind of stuff are we unpacking? What should I leave?”

She heaved a box against her hip, spinning to face me. “Any of them, really. They’re mostly old house supplies, so hopefully they will help you all settle in easier.”

“And Reggie’s things?”

Betty’s eyes trailed over to the surfboard, and the box I exposed by moving it. “Leave it for your father to decide.”

Betty began out the room, leaving me to scramble for a box and rush behind, almost tripping on the first step. Dad and Brent were just emerging from the nursery as I entered the hall, Dad immediately offering to take the box I held and sending me back down with Brent.

I led him back down, Brent cracking a joke at how modern the basement looked. “Wonder why they didn’t do the whole house? Upstairs looks like a scene from That 70’s Show.”

“Can’t imagine it’s cheap. Plus, I dunno,” I opened Reggie’s door, “Kind of gives it a sweet rustic vibe.”

“Yeah,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, “Okay,”

It wasn’t surprising when Brent rushed over to the surfboard; out of us three, he was the only one that ever had the nerve to get on one. “Woah, look at this,” he hummed, gripping the board and turning it in his hands. “Hey, Jean, think you can make waves in the Sound?”

I paused for only a moment while grabbing a box: waves? That would be awesome. But we needed to lie low, and I wasn’t sure messing around and accidentally causing a tsunami or something was discreet. So instead, I teased, “Sure you’re not just gonna sink like lead?”

Brent sort of tossed his head aside, contemplating the possibility as he looked back at the board — and down at the box. I could see him go through the same realization I did, looking around, back at the box, then to the board, which he gently replaced.

But Brent wasn’t one to be serious for so long, settling the info somewhere deep in his mind as he asked, “So is it too late to call dibs on this room? I like the colors,”

We cleaned out Reggie’s old bedroom, the only thing left being the small corner of his possessions, which grew to gain two more boxes. Unopened. We seemed to be in silent agreement that it wasn’t our right to open those. “I should get Dad,” Brent said. “Ask him what to do with all this.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, wiping my brow. Definitely didn’t gain any fun strength powers. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go start on the other room.”

So we left, Brent walking down the hall while I walked across to what I assumed was the door to the other bedroom. I entered a surprising fight with the hinges, them screaming in protest as I made them move for the first time in nearly 18 years; but finally, after a good shoulder check, I stuck my head in—

And lost all fight once I looked around.

Without a doubt, this was Dad’s room. It was graffitied to hell, only little splotches of white peaking through the blues and reds and blacks as negative space. Even the ceiling wasn’t spared, his name tagged against the texture of the popcorn, faded from who knows how long. The work around the room reflected Delsin Rowe — er, Dad’s — style found in Seattle, a bunch of tongue-in-cheek bits: a man using a red-and-blue tinged stock line as a whip on poor retail workers, a traditional Akomish with red warpaint that looked more like blood than paint, especially with the pile of bodies in the background with a politician standing atop them like that pic of Iwo Jima. The red stripes of the American flag acting as a jail cell for a black man.

It was all Rowe, but it looked…wrong? Like a case of uncanny valley. And it took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize it was because these pieces were rough around the edges, a testament of a budding artist.

These were the firsts of his work. Him finding his style, his expression.

“Jesus, these look bad,” Dad laughed behind me, making me jump so hard I knocked my head against the doorframe. I slipped up, cursing, receiving a, “Jean, words,” from Dad as he turned me to face him, checking my temple.

“You scared me,” I laughed, trying to shake away the pain in my head. What was it about door frames that seemed to increase the pain?

“Well, if you weren’t standing in the middle of the hallway,” he jokingly chastised, releasing his gaze on me and laying a hand on the door, pushing it open further with an annoyed grunt. We’d definitely have to invest in some WD-40.

I walked in at Dad’s insistence, looking at the wall the door was a part of for the bit of art I missed. There was more hiding behind the piles of cardboard, I imagine — but what I saw was enough to leave my mouth agape.

At least, until Dad cleared his throat behind me and I spun on him, crossing my arms. “So, this whole time — every time I’d talk about Delsin Rowe’s art—“

“Oh, yeah, that was uh,” Dad laughed breathlessly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Quite the ego boost, lemme tell you.”

“I hate you.” But there was no malice; the words were followed by chuckling, me rolling my eyes as Dad shoved his hands in his pockets. “And you used to yell at me about drawing on the walls,”

“Hey, to be fair, my parents weren’t exactly excited about me doing this, either.” Dad walked past, running a finger along a stream of blue paint to see if it would give away. “This room used to smell terrible, too. I probably have some kind of disease from sleeping in here with those paint fumes.”

God, spray paint smell in a basement room? I’m surprised he didn’t asphyxiate.

But Dad, the Rowland I once was convinced he was…that man never did art. Always said he was bad at it. “Dad? When was the last time you did something like this?”

Dad hummed, brows furrowing for only a moment as he processed what I meant. This. Art. “Oh. Well, the last big project I had was…well, the nursery.”

18 years. Has he not done anything else in 18 years?

Dad must have seen my shock, because he rushed to say, “I mean, I’ve done some sketches. I actually have a journal hiding in my file cabinet at COLE. But I haven’t been able to…to do anything that could be seen by someone. What if they saw my art style and traced it back to Delsin Rowe, y’know?” He shrugged, obviously bothered and trying his hardest to appear not to be. “Had to be safe.”

That list just kept growing. There was so much of Dad he had to leave behind to keep Brent and I safe. I didn’t even know he was Akomish until we rolled up on the reservation! He told us we were Italian!

He practically scrubbed himself from existence, put on this façade of a man to…keep us safe. How lonely was that? Unable to even say ‘hey, I like to draw!’ without worrying it’ll kill your entire family. It sounded so isolating. The fact that he didn’t just explode at the seams from holding so much of himself captive was a mystery to me.

But we were in the midst of honesty, right? And I think I was being too selfish, wanting all his truths for myself; maybe we needed to reserve some for him. Which is why, after another glance around, I asked, “You mind, well…” God, why was I suddenly bashful? This was Dad. “Well, I’ve always thought tagging was cool. Maybe we could…”

He cocked his head to the side, confused for only a moment at what I was asking before, slowly, a wide grin spread on his face. “Sure, if you want. ‘Course, we have to figure out a way to do it legally. Can’t tell you how many times I was arrested while tagging.” He shook his head, chuckling gently. “You sure you want to try graffiti, though? Don’t think watercolors would be a better choice?”

“Brent already made that joke,”

“Damnit.”

#infamous erosion #infamous second son #infamous delsin #delsin rowe #reggie rowe #fetch walker #abigail walker #infamous #infamous 2 #Betty needs a last name damnit #fanfic #fanfiction #Sucker Punch Productions #Water Conduit Regina was inspired by the Water Conduit Reggie fannon that is literally everywhere i go for inFAMOUS stuff I swear to gOD--

6 notes · View notes

astrangewoman · 2 years ago

Text

last night I stood in my back yard with my head tipped up to the sky and just stared at the stars and wept. I wasn’t sad. the tears just came. I was waiting on the moon, but she never showed. I was only disappointed for a little while. I still had my stars. the spring peepers we’re singing for a bit, too, which was really exciting. I’m so ready for spring to come.

I think I might do that every clear night��spend time with the stars. I find it hard to stay inside at night when I know the moon’s out. it’s like a yearning deep in my chest, a literal physical pulling. I can’t ignore it. I talk to the gods while I’m out there. I make them promises and ask for favors. I don’t know if anyone is listening, but I do it anyway. I talk to the moon the most.

#personal

6 notes · View notes

yourlocalcorviddad · 10 months ago

Text

How all this started, Danny wouldn't be able to tell later, he couldn't even now.

One second he was in Gotham on a pre-college vacation, next thing he knew it was like the entire sky was torn open and some alien force was deciding to claim it again.

It was messy and Danny was sure he had at least one gash in his side, but he wasn't gonna complain since the big wig heros, looked like superman, batman, the flash, some of the local anti heros like red hood and his crew, as well as killer croc, and even some of the villains that weren't entirely on the dark side like ivy, Harley, riddler, and two-face, all taking down the main crew of the alien ships.

At some point, Danny ended up in the park District, fighting there with locals as well as the vigilantes in the area, Signal somewhere a couple hundred yards from him, and nearby was Robin. Everything was going well, until it wasn't.

One of the aliens had yanked didn't power lines, normally not an issue but a different one had broken a hydrant, and while he and the local heros were edging the fight away from the risky area, Robin got thrown by an alien, which was the final move it did since the sword user cut the being's head clean off just as he was being thrown.

Right into a puddle that was in part connected to a still live wire.

"No!"

Signal rushed over, the fight being taken over by the locals who were easily finishing off the stragglers, Danny flying but far behind him.

"Shit shit, little bird if you die on me I'm gonna kill you myself, you still owe me game night!" It was a half strangled plea Danny wasn't sure he was supposed to hear as Signal tried to find a way to get the other teen out safely.

"Here, I'm immune, stay back." Danny didn't wait for a response, darting in and scoping the had-been-spasming-but-now-to-still-for-their-liking teen out of the water with careful hands, glad the gloves in his ghost form kept the electricity out now, he didn't need triggering himself.

Signal barely waited for the other to be laid down, rushing to him and starting CPR.

"Fuck, fuck, I... Wait, if you're immune, can you channel it? If we can give him a small shock we can restart his heart!" Signal misunderstood him, but in theory Danny could still do that, though without electricity and only because of Frostbite teaching him basic field medicine and emergency moves.

"I... Alright but it's not going to be the way you think it will. Stand back." Danny cautioned, taking off his one glove, it was easier to minimise the ecto he creates-thus not using to much-without the glove.

Signal clearly knew it would be fine somehow, stepping back as Danny stepped close, kneeling down and taking a deep breath, turning his hand partially intangible and plunging it through the skin of the other teen, turning his hand back to tangible when he found the heat, wrist still intangible as he carefully wrapped his hand around the organ and made sure to carefully, by feel, find the right nodes and carefully pulsed ectoplasm into them, the organ shuddering back to action within seconds.

Clearly Robin was a quick revival, as he was soon coughing and darting upright seconds after, Danny barely getting his hand out of Robin's chest in time to avoid damage.

"Woah careful the-agh!" The sudden hands around his throat, and the flood is warmth from them fitting right into the outlines wrapped around his neck, startling him into silence, even as he didn't need to breath currently, he still panicked.

"Robin! No! He saved you!"

"His hand was in my chest!"

"Which isn't injured if you look!"

"How..."

"Can you stop trying to choke me, at least without buying me dinner first?" Danny questioned, mind still working on the knowledge his soulmate has his first touch on his literal heart, and was currently trying to choke him.

Deadserious soulmate prompt idea.

Everyone has a mark somewhere on their skin that represents the place where they'll first have their fated touch them.

Danny has an unusual one, a dark green imprint of hands has taken up the majority of his throat for his entire life.

Damian isn't upset by his lack of soulmark, or he didn't use to be,over the years that changed. But as it turns out, he did have a soulmark! Just not one that was visible from the outside.

Just how did he have an icy blue handprint over his actual beating heart.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #deadseriousship #damian x danny #dp x dc prompt #damian thinks his soulmate will kill him #so does everyone else #why else would someone full on grasp a heart?#to shock it to life with magic ghost powers obvs bats come on #surgery mention #drug ment tw #tw drug mention #Danny using ecto to simulate the heart paddles without the same risk of the heart giving out days later like the actual device does

2K notes · View notes

meow-town · 2 years ago

Text

Jealous! Dee x Reader Oneshot 「Seeing Green」

Summary : Dee arrives at a party hoping to find his crush, but envy makes an entrance and makes him reveal secrets within his heart.

Requested by @chanel-lovegood !! Thank you so much! Things have really been piling on lately, so sorry if I take a while to finish requests!

Also, I’m literALLY SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TUMBLR DELETED MY ENTIRE DRAFT FOR SOME REASON AND I HAD TO START OVER

Why was he here? Dee Shvagenbagen, antisocial know-it-all, someone who absolutely despised parties and big social gatherings. He thought they were foolish, he had better things to do. He could be reading, he could be going over school notes, he could be doing anything other than being stuffed in some suburban house with horny sixteen year olds awkwardly swaying to shitty house music. Yet here he was, grabbing onto a clear plastic cup full with water and blowing off everyone who came up to him expecting to get his number.

“Not interested.”

“But I literally just-”

“I’m not interested.”

The brunette sighed, turning on her heel and sulking away to the furthest corner. He sighed and went back on his search, scouting out for the light in this dark realm of absurdity. Turning corners, climbing up stairs to a whole other side of the party, stepping out into the front yard, and continuing to push away people who didn’t know about the concept of personal space. He continued to look for them, the only thing worth being here for.

(f/n) (l/n).

A diamond in the rough. He didn’t expect them to be at party. From what he had gathered, they would much rather be at home than doing anything like this. He had seen social media posts of them reading or drawing or just staying in in general. Dee remembered how he had come to arrive at this party. Kids were bombarding the class group chat with messages about it, obviously, Dee couldn’t be less interested until he overheard someone speak at school. That’s what Dee did. He subconsciously eavesdropped, constantly.

“Yeah, I’ve invited (f/n) to the party. She said she’d go if I did.”

A slight twinge of hurt pecked at his chest, someone had probably spiked the water or whatever.

His mind scattered back, scratching into the deepest corners of his brain to think of more places they could be.

‘Upstairs? No, there’s people making out up there, they wouldn’t be comfortable. Maybe they’re in the bathroom, hiding? That sounds like something they would do.’

His breath hitched in his throat once he realized. Squeezing in between people, leaving behind a trail of ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s. He made his way back out through the kitchen door, leaving to the backyard. And once he slid the door closed, he saw.

There they were. Sitting atop the grass with an anxious dog on their lap.

“Sh, sh. It’s okay! They’re just loud noises, nothing’s gonna hurt you!” The terrier whimpered in response, backing up further into them.

He sighed into his lips, parting his sight. A rosy tint crept onto his cheeks, just by looking at them. (F/n), sweetest soul he’d ever met. And now was a perfect example. The sight of them holding the little creature close to their chest, stroking its fur gradually while whispering sweet words of reassurance - even while fully knowing the dog wouldn’t understand, it was adorable.

A distant song made its way to his ears.

You see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night.

Burning, it, down.

“Dee?”

“Y-yeah? Sorry, I just zoned out.”

He mentally striked himself across the face, scowling visibly while they smiled at him. “What are you doing here? I thought you hated these types of things.”

“I do, but I wanted to see someone here.” ‘You. It’s you who I wanted to see.’ “What about you?”

“A friend dragged me here along with him.”

A comforting silence took over them both. Silences were just different with (f/n), Dee thought. They silently gestured for him to sit next to them, patting the grass with one hand. With still no words spoken, he sat and shuffled closer to (f/n), cheeks still pinkish in color. He reached for the dog to scratch behind its ears and retracted his arms to prop himself up once more. Some stars were visible, but with all of the light coming from inside and the lamppost, they could only point some out.

The terrier suddenly jumped out of (f/n)’s arms to switch over to Dee. Hopping off, it strided to his side and jumped onto his lap. (F/n) looked over at him, giving him a closed-eye smile. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. Wrapping an arm languidly around the pup, his gaze returned to the skies. How long had it been? Bit less than a year now. Around 10 months since (f/n) transferred to his school, and 8 months since he developed a crush on them. It really only got worse from there. It was a silly little crush, at first. Evolved into him thinking about them before he went to sleep, cradling his pillow. Then he began to ask around for their socials, places they would be during the weekend. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here with them right now.

He exhaled deeply, cherishing this moment.

The scent of their hair, their usual coffee order, their playlist, their favorite flower - which they had only briefly mentioned in a school trip once. He remembered every small detail he could recollect, small and unimportant as it may seem. “Who’d you say you came here with?” He blurted out, desperate to get some form of conversation going.

“Oh, just Vitya. He’s in the school band, you’ve probably heard of him.”

His brow unconscious furrowed. Vitya. Sure, he’d heard of Vitya. Bassist and lead vocalist of the school band, as well as second hand man to Ches. He’d visited Ches’s shop every now and then only to see Vitya greet him each time. Vitya, with his ruffled brown hair and his dimples and his incredible skills in music. Who had more talent in his left pinkie finger than Dee could ever have in his entire body.

He chose to let it go, to just enjoy the time he had with (f/n) for as long as he could. Vitya could cloud his thoughts any day, but moments like these came once in a lifetime. “Why don’t you join the band? Haywire has been looking for a new member, and you seem to like the kind of music they produce.”

“Just, uh, not really interested.” Lies. Dee couldn’t play a note if his life depended on it. He tended to rush into things, to impulsively decide to learn something new and get frustrated as all hell when he wasn’t amazing at it within the first five minutes. Being intellectually gifted does that to a person. You grow up all of your life being naturally amazing at everything without having to lift a finger, and once you have to put in effort, you give up.

They sat in lively conversation for about another ten minutes, until the music re-emerged from its muffled state, as a voice shouted over it.

“(F/N)! GET OVER HERE! SOMEONE’S DEDICATING A SONG TO YOU!” (F/n)’s head darted over immediately.

“Oh shit! Really?” The dog jumped up at the sight of their agitated state. “I’m coming! Coming!” While they scrambled to their feet, Dee swiftly pulled the critter off of him.

“I’ll come with.” He grumbled, pulling his jacket back into place. (F/n) nodded and grasped his forearm to drag him inside. They shut the door behind them, placing their plastic cup onto the kitchen counter. An electric guitar being tuned, drum kits being assembled, keyboard being tried out and a bass guitar being plugged in, much to Dee’s dismay. It wouldn’t take a genius to find out who dedicated a song to (f/n). Dee felt bad for the other members of Haywire, being dragged into an entire performance because their leader was head over heels for someone he couldn’t have.

He couldn’t have them, Dee repeated the phrase in his mind, almost to convince himself. (F/n) was destined to end up with him. It was only fair. “This song goes out to someone who’s real special to me.” Dee blocked out the voice to the best of his abilities. He could just imagine the way Vitya looked at (f/n) when he said that. “You’re always by my side, (f/n). And I think this is a good way to show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This is not a confession.’ Dee thought, looking back at them. The starter riff begun and Dee internally facepalmed at the sound of it.

‘Wonderwall. Of all the songs you could dedicate to someone, Wonderwall. How basic and boring.’

Even with how distressed he was, the blonde always managed to critique something. His gaze flew from one person to another. The crowd staring at them like a pair of animals at the zoo, and the brunette’s sight caught directly onto (f/n).

He carried on through the entire song, adjusting his gaze every once in a while to be able to look at the fretboard. People were recording, as if this were a romantic comedy in which the guy on stage would drop on his knees to receive a kiss from the love interest.

But it didn’t seem to far from that. And it scared Dee.

Vitya staring deeply into (f/n)’s eyes, and them shyly reciprocating with a twinkle.

This wasn’t happening. The absolute hysteria building up in his body was too much to bear. It couldn’t end here. Dee needed to have his chance. He need to tell them how they felt. The tension is his neck was alarmingly visible, and he had to do something.

Vitya leaning further from the stage, beginning to sit on his knees to face the crowd better. Sitting on his knees to face (f/n) better. To have his face closer to theirs. To make their move. To take them away from him. To ruin him.

“Dee?!”

Before he knew what he was doing, he latched onto their frame, swooping them out of the scene.

“What the fuck, man?!” Dee didn’t say anything back, as much as he wanted to. As much as he wanted to swipe the lovesick look clean off of the bassist’s face with a guitar. Dee ignored all complaints and demands to be put down and took them into a closet, locking the door behind them. He took a breather, body pressed firmly against the door, as if someone was to barge in at any second. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shut up.”

“I- excuse me?!”

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t know why. It seemed right in the heat of the moment and he pulled her away. And now they were both inside a pitch dark closet, sharing a small space that could barely fit the both of them. His breathing calmed down, and his head thudded on the wall behind him once he threw it back. No one had seen them go in here. He made sure. “Dee…” He couldn’t see anything, just black. Pure black. “Why did you pull me in here?” His cool demeanor shattered into small little bits, as he stumbled over words and syllables.

“I-I just… Uhm. I don’t…” He was cut off by a sigh and he shut up this time.

Dark as all hell, with no ability to see anything. He felt two hands press down on his shoulders. “Oh, there you are.” He stifled a gasp when he felt their hands on him, cheeks burning hotter with each second that passed. “These are your shoulders, right?”

“Yeah.. yeah, that’s it.” He replied, voice shaky as he tensed up even more. The tips of his ear were turning pink, and for once he was glad it was dark in the room. He couldn’t imagine having to explain to (f/n) why he was sweating, face looking like a fire truck. They patted along his shoulders, gripping onto his arms and finding their way all over him. Cupping his cheeks, they tugged and pinched slightly.

“Im guessing this is your face..?”

“It is.”

They chuckled and moved to remove their hands. But his ones piled over theirs to maintain them where they were. “N-no.” He whispered. “Keep them here.” (F/n) hummed and did as he said, taking a step forward. He nuzzled further into their palm, exhaling deeply. They were now so close to each other, Dee could feel the body heat radiating off of (f/n). Although there was no light, they could feel his gaze like a touch. They pulled away.

“We should get out of here, Vitya’s looking for me. I don’t wanna make him worry.”

“Stop talking about Vitya. Vitya isn’t here. I’m here.” He husked, now managing to see (f/n) more clearly in the dark. The (hair-colored) beauty relaxed, eyes half lidded. “It’s just Vitya with you, isn’t it?” The question took both of them by surprise. (F/n) didn’t know how to respond, and Dee couldn’t imagine what he had just said. That was risky. Too risky. He could have apologized and let it go, but at this point he might as well pull through with it. “Vitya dedicating a song to you, Vitya inviting you to a party, Vitya and his bass skills, Vitya, Vitya, Vitya.”

He continued to confront them. “What about me? Why can’t you gush over me? I’ve been trying my absolute hardest for you to notice my approaches and nothing. How am I supposed to feel knowing that my best wasn’t good enough, and that some rando can win you over by doing his bare minimum? Huh?”

(F/n) blinked at the blonde’s outburst, mind clouded with so many thoughts at once they couldn’t focus on a single one. They listened to him ramble on, except their brain wasn’t absorbing any of the info he spat at them. Dee Shvagenbagen, antisocial know-it-all, and the most attractive person they’d ever met. Their body drove closer to him, itching to get closer. They’d been keeping their distance for him to not notice them falling for him. After all, he wasn’t interested in people like that. Or at least, people excluding (f/n). Maybe 8 months since she grew apart. And it was harder each day. Harder to not confess the way they felt.

Another step. And another.

And another.

They cupped his chin, pupils dilated completely. Whether it was from the lack of light, or from how close they were to him, they didn’t know. Possibly both. Dee’s rant came halting to an end, as (f/n) closed the space between them.

As they felt fireworks go off in their stomach, as they felt all nerves dissipate from their body, as they silently thanked a greater good for this opportunity.

As they pressed their lips onto his, pressing a stray hand flat on his chest. He felt them run their fingers around his hair, pulling of the hair tie to run their fingers through it. Pausing in between for breaths each time, Dee smashed his lips onto theirs, losing all control he might’ve previously had. He pulled away fro a brief second, enticing them with the promise of more. Only for him to push them back in a mere second, pushing the back of their head into the kiss. Long breaths, roaming hands and deep kisses. “I’ve liked you… Hah, for the longest time. Dee.”

“Me too…”

They clawed at his back when he forced entrance into their mouth, claiming every spot as his. Needless to say, Dee knew his feelings were reciprocated.

#metal Family #metalfamily #metalfamilyxreader #metal family x reader #dee x reader #dee metal family #metal family dee #dee metal family x reader #metal family dee x reader #dee shvagenbagen #dee Shvagenbagen x reader #dee #this took forever I’m so sorry #also kinda rushed because I didn’t wanna make you wait any longer

1K notes · View notes