#and instead of going that's clearly gibberish

[wahbegan]

I didn't know ouija board is a self selected name that's hilarious

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[keferon]

Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:

They don't.

Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].

Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.

Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?

Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.

Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.

Machines don't bleed.

So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.

Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.

Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].

Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.

Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.

He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).

It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.

He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.

He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.

OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,

[lovelaetter]

Please miss ma'am, I need a you to write about ning trying to teach you where the clit is, like you act dumb saying clits aren't real and just made up but little ole Miss know-it-all has to be right and gets so frustrated she strips her skirt and panties just to show you it's real, and you take it from there

Please, doesn't have to be Ning but I just need a pretty and dumb girl doing it😮‍💨

you said ning but you also said it could be any other girl and this is so yuna, it hurts. this is also kind of a follow up to a post i made once and an anon mentioned a few days ago, about her, perv bff reader and noncon.

DUBCON but only if you really think about it.

sleepover that has you both tipsy, or better, you tipsy and her running her mouth already the way she does when she had more drinks she can handle and the subject lands on sex— her sex life, which you don’t really care. you are not interested in what she does or who she does unless it involves you but seeing how much she talks and talks, you realize you won’t be able to get your hands on her sleeping body any time soon so you have no choice but hear it.

until she starts to yap about masturbating and your ears perk up, her whiny blah blah blah “i can’t really cum by playing with my clit only, i always have to fuck myself and it gets kinda annoying sometimes” and your brain fills so easily with images of her sprawled in her bed and stretching herself open with the toy you found once in her drawer that you short circuit briefly and it definitely takes a moment for the idea to come to your brain but then it does and you interrupt her with a “wait, you said you can’t cum by…?” and she blinks, cocks her head to side and repeats what she said previously and you just stare at her like she is saying gibberish and it’s so funny, you have to hold back your laugh at her face and the confused “what?!” she lets out when you say “your… clit? what the fuck is that?” and you both go back and forth on “it does exist” “no, it doesn’t” “yes, it does!” “no?!”.

and listen, it was supposed to be just a joke, to piss her off a little, but if there’s something she becomes when she is drunk is extra dumb and if she used her brain just a little she would realize you were just messing with her but instead she goes “i will show you!” and it totally catches you off guard. if you knew it would be so easily to get her to undress for you willingly you would’ve pulled that shit up long ago. you probably don’t get much say in it because she is fast in taking her clothes off, sitting back on the couch naked from waist down and pulling her legs up and open.

asks you to come closer and you obviously do, kneeling in front of her, so good at playing the role of the skeptical friend and asking “so?” just to see what she does and she unashamedly uses her hands to give you a good view of her pussy, pretty and glistening as always, unbeknownst to her that you’ve already seen her like this more than once. single finger sliding between her folds and over the visible bud there, whimpering at the touch, mumbling something you can’t make out when you ask if it feels good when she touches it. stupid, stupid girl, hips bucking when you push her hand out of the way and let your thumb do the job, always asking her things like “am i doing it right?” or “is this how you like it?” and she is so gone she doesn’t recognize the condescending tone of your voice even if you’re clearly smirking and mocking her, only nodding and whining. protests a bit once your other fingers reach her entrance but you are quick to remind her she herself said she can’t cum without fucking herself, you are doing just what she said.

it’s such a sight to have her coming for you and being aware of it, the noises, the expressions, even her taste is different and it just serves as fuel to your obsession with her. i’m a firmly believer that the alcohol + the orgasm make her pass out almost instantly, barely has a chance to say something to you before her eyes are closing and you are having to carry her to bed. and obviously you wouldn’t let the opportunity of getting another taste of her pussy pass, it’s been so long since you last had the chance of feeling her on your tongue… and since she is already naked, no problem, right?

[brailsthesmolgurl]

LOSING YOU HURTS

Preview: What have the boys done that got you to go MIA? What lengths would they go to get you back?

Warnings: ANGST, teeth-rotting fluff at ending.

P.S: This is a request from one of you lovely readers. I hope what I had written shall suffice your love for angst and fluff. Rafayel's take is always and always will be and shall be the dramatic route imo, Zayne's just radiating care-bear energy in forever, Xavier? I decided to do him a little dirty and make him a salty boi :3

RAFAYEL - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜

The young artist came home to the smell of alcohol reeked across his living room. The mellow balsamic, saccharine scent created a trail for Rafayel to tail towards his room. The wide span of hallways suddenly seemed so narrow due to the lack of lighting. However, the moonlight provided just enough of a shine to prevent Rafayel from kissing the walls as he led himself towards his bedroom. The scent became more pungent as he got closer to the door and he was wondering if someone had managed to break into his mansion just for a couple of bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot. Opening the door with a slight creak, he popped his head into the ajar door to take a peek of the thief. Only to find you, sprawled out on his bed. He could not see your face as your legs faced him but he could see the slight rise and fall of your chest. You are asleep.

Relieved, he walked over to your sleeping figure, studying the situation. A bottle of Merlot emptied out on the nightstand while another half bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon stood still on the floor, next to a wine glass. Someone is clearly in the mood to drink for the night and does not even bother to wait for him. But he did wondered why would you down one and a half bottle of red wine when you have a barely existent alcohol tolerance. Rafayel took a seat next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear and he smiled to himself.

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto your cheek, feeling the warmth of your face from your drunkenness. “Mmm…” You hummed out at the slight pressure on your cheek. “Is that you Rafayel?” Your hushed whispers made him pressed another kiss to your cheek again, and another to your jawline.

“Yes, it’s me my love.” Rafayel pressed yet another kiss to your lips, slightly excited at you waking up. Seeing your eyelids opening to reveal your gaze, he leaned back, holding himself up by his palm, taking in your sleepy state. “You want to tell me why you chose to drink all of these yourself instead of waiting for me to come home and toast with you?”

His question only dissolved from words into gibberish as you were too drunk to handle such a heavy topic for the night. “I’m tired.” With a couple more slow blinks, the room disappeared and you travelled back to your dreamland.

The next day came about with you waking up to an empty bed. You slowly sat up, eyes shutting closed when your head cracked a whir and the world started to spin out of control. “Good morning.” A familiar voice tuned in and you opened your eyes just enough to catch sight of your boyfriend walking in casually, a silver tray well balanced on one of his palms. “My beauty is awake.” Smell of pancakes and something spicy filled the air and your tastebuds started salivating. Nothing like a good hungover meal to get things kickstarted for the day. For the talk the both of you are going to have. “I made some breakfast for you. Based on the amount you had drank, you are to be called a drunkard from now on.” He leaned down close enough, nose tip caressed against your cheek. “You’re most welcomed for my care.”

“We have to talk.” You had sat yourself up, hand rubbing your forehead a couple of times when you tried to calm your throbbing pain in your skull and the itch in the back of your throat, begging you to stop what you are about to say. “I want to break up.”

“Awe, is my beauty still—” Rafayel reached his hand out to touch your cheek, a cheesy smile still hung on his handsome features. He had just woken up, shirt messily buttoned, hair tousled and spiking in different directions and face still slightly oily from the sleep he had enjoyed next to you in bed. Nevertheless, his beauty remains inexorable.

You turned your head to the side, leaving his hand hanging mid air with the phantom touch of your warm cheek, and his smile faded when he denoted that you were being serious. “I want to break up.” Your lack of tone and facial expressions led Rafayel to return to his original posture.

“Why?” Rafayels’ eyes narrowed and he knitted his eyebrows together. He was frustrated. Not telling him the reason and just wanting to break up gave the young man a good enough idea that he is no longer wanted in your space. He could have begged, asked, nagged you to stay but he chooses to respect your boundary. “Why would you want to break up suddenly?”

"Have you not seen the news Rafayel?" You grabbed your phone off of the nightststand and unlocked it, revealing a news titled 'NEW MUSE OR NEW COHORT? RAFAYEL FOUND SHARING LIPS WITH THE MYSTERY WOMAN'.

He looked genuinely shocked, grabbing your phone to continue scanning through the article. Hazy from your hangover, you cannot tell if he was being upset or he was actually shocked that he got caught. "Love, that is a mistake. I did not know she—"

"I'm done." You interrupted, snatching your phone out of his palms and pushing yourself off of the bed. Rafayel mimicked you, getting up off of the bed and holding onto you to prevent you from falling and to stop you from leaving. "I should have known earlier given how you had not been coming home recently. All of the promises that you made, it's all just a lie."

"No, it's not a lie y/n. I did not manage to come home because I was busy curating my artworks for the upcoming exhibition. The kiss with Aiki, it was nothing. We were both drunk and—" He started rambling, eyes darting everywhere except meeting yours and face turning red. The lack of detail present within his explanation only pushed your buttons further.

"It's the fact you kissed her and you did not tell me anything the next day, or the day after, or today! That's what made me disappointed in you Rafayel!" You raised your voice, unable to calm yourself anymore. You recalled the night you caught on to the news. Crying became your last resort and you figured by chugging down alcohol you could pity yourself less, seeing the picture of the mystery woman he calls 'Aiki' being so much more alluring than you.

Possessing long blond hair with big wavy curls, tall stature with right amount of curves on her figure. Any man would dream of a model-like woman like her laying in their bed. Not to mention, she possesses the same interest for art, seemingly the only daughter to a family tree of artists. There is no doubt on why she would be hired by Rafayel and why they would end up having an affair.

You squared up against him, pushing him by his shoulders and he stumbled backwards. "I hate you." Your last sentence jabbed him more than anything, maybe it was the tears that ran down your face like streams, maybe the way you bit your lip after you had finished your sentence realising that you had said the ultimatum, or maybe it was your tone of defeat that made him feel utterly useless.

"I'm sorry y/n." Rafayel held onto your wrist, with just enough amount to beg you to stay and not to force you. "It was a mistake of mine, I should have told you about it. I was scared you were going to leave me."

"But apparently not saying it does not change the ending either." You removed your wrist out of his grip and you walked past him and out of the premises of his abode. Your tears streaked your cheeks immediately when the heavy doors closed behind you. Your feet felt heavy with every step you take, secretly hoping for Rafayel to be dashing out of his house, shouting and begging relentlessly for you to not leave him. Despite with that expectation, it remained eidetic to your imagination and you dragged yourself as far as you could. Away from his mansion, away from his island, but primely, away from Rafayel.

Days followed by weeks and then months. That was how long you had disassociated yourself with the purple haired lad. The memories of him are dissolving just like the news of his has dissipated. The last you had seen his name on the news headline was when he chose to cancel his exhibition. The same exhibition that he spent a lot of time trying to curate his artworks and the same exhibition that got him to commit a mistake with Aiki that costed him his relationship. Although the reason behind his cancellation was unknown to the paparazzi, you knew full well that his 'I am moody hence I do not feel like going through with this exhibition' kinda excuse is pure bullshit. But of course, you did not want to jump to conclusions. More like, you are in no position to possess such an assumptive nature towards his acts anymore.

Here you currently sat, on your kitchen table, with a cup of tea in hand and eyes fixated on the hologram showcased in your living room. The holographic news reporter casually stood at the corner of your living room, reading from his cue cards and occasionally pointing towards the graphics that appeared on his left on demand, providing you details on what is going on in the outside world. You were thinking of going out for a shopping spree today as you had been holed up in your home for the longest time ever. Mostly due to paperwork, partially may contribute to the post breakup blues.

The doorbell rang and you swiftly got up, tearing your eyes off of the man in a suit in your living room and you walked yourself towards the door. You clicked the lock open and pulled your door towards you to open it. Rafayel towered in front of you, still looking as dashing as how you always expected of him. His left eyebrow raised, presumably surprised at you opening the door for him. The tension amongst the both of you started arising, one mostly out of anxiety while the other mostly out of frustration.

"What do you want?" You quipped, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed the young man in front of you. Rafayel clad a suit that puts the reporter's neatly pressed outfit to shame, with the usual combo of black and white, added on with a red tie, there is really not a lot of work required for him to look good. Yet, you could not bring yourself to admire his outfit now.

"I came to apologise." His tone was lighthearted, pressed to crack a joke amidst this tension. You however, caught a whiff of a scent that you do not often smell on him. It smells tangy, fruity even. "I know you do not want me here, but I will not stop like how I had not stopped contacting you for the past months. It took Thomas three months to locate where you are staying and I just had to risk coming here." He pressed one of his palms to his forehead and closed his eyes, body swaying slightly as if there was a gust of wind that blew him. "Can I at least come in? My head is buzzing."

You stood aside to give way to him. His lanky stature nearly manage to fit through your standard door frame and you manage to sneak a whiff off of his cologne of the night. He reeked of alcohol. "Are you drunk Rafayel?"

The man stumbled forward and you lurched towards him, arms secured around his waist to hold him up, not wanting him to kiss the floor just yet and you slowly guided him towards the sofa. Moans and groans and hushed mutters kept tumbling out of his mouth, but you barely focused in on his monologues. The way his rubicund cheeks presented itself, accompanied with his groans; he must not be in a good mood. Although the both of your paths had came to an end, you could not just let him falter to the ground. "Here, lay down." You low-key flopped him onto the couch and hurried off into the kitchen to fetch some water.

It has been a while of silence, with the window opened for maximum ventilation and the curtains that pranced along with the rhythm of the winds. You twisted the handkerchief in your hand, squeezing the water out of the cloth and laying it onto Rafayel's head, repeating the same motion for the next few handkerchiefs that you would use to cover his neck and his chest. He was rather persistent in not wanting you to undress him as the moment is not right and he does not want to be taken advantage of. But again, it seems like you are the one that was getting taken advantage by your ex-boyfriend even after the breakup.

You managed to make him comply by comforting him and telling him that you only want to cool down his body temperature. The permission to remove his blazer was granted with a nod and you unbuttoned three buttons on his button-up shirt, unfoldingthe cotton piece and slowly placing it onto his smooth yet hard chest. Rafayel hissed in response, hands enveloping yours immediately and your cheeks burnt at the touch. "I'm sorry y/n." You looked up to see the man is already looking at you, lids heavy and lips slightly puckered, guilt written all over his features. "I didn't mean to cheat on you at all."

"You should rest." Your dismissive attitude got Rafayel to wrap his arms around your waist in one-go and he pulled you onto him, so you are laying right on top of him. You were frantic, wanting to get out of his arms as soon as possible but his hold was solid. "Rafayel, please. We had gotten over this." "I had never loved anyone like you y/n." His soft voice a total opposite of his iron grip. "Hell, when I kissed her that time when I was drunk, all I could think about was you. I'm sorry I did not tell you about my mistake earlier. I am sorry I let you walked out. I should have tried harder, I should not have gotten drunk that night..." The warm light that hit his face outlined the tears that brimmed around his eyes. He trailed off, words swallowed by the silence. "I'm very sorry my love."

You could not deny it. Seeing him being drunk, standing at the front of your unit that he had searched for relentlessly ever since the parting, apologising being the only thing he could manage to put into a conversation for tonight and the amount of guilt that surrounds him as thick as the smell of alcohol on his body. You could not deny that he melted your heart. "Rafayel, it's okay." You succumbed to your own regret too, revealing the sensations you had felt for the past few months. "I should not have acted so recklessly. I should have listened to you and not let my insecurity consume me. I am sorry too."

"Don't be sorry my love." His finger snaked over to the bottom of your chin and he lifted it up. Your lips only a few inches away from him. "I will always love you, and if you ever plan to leave me again, I will chase you to the ends of the earth even if I have to." Watching him closely, you realised the redness on his cheeks are gone, and the glint of teasing in his nebula-like orbs is back.

Scrunching your face in observation, you asked. "Are you faking yourself to be drunk?" He whined like a toddler and 'fainted' back into his laying position, making you raise your eyebrows in return at his usual mockeries. "Do you even mean anything you said earlier?"

He snapped his head back to you, eyes widened and he pushed himself up with one arm, jaw slackening. "The audacity to assume that I came here just for a show." He pressed a hand to his chest and looked down, the redness creeping onto his ears. "Everything I had said is sincere, I wanted to apologise and wanted to show you just how much you actually matter to me. Because, y/n, losing you really pains me. It affects me greater than what you may think." You did not reply to his laments, but instead just watched this man in front of you conveyed a soliloquy that is so wrapped in sincerity and love for you that it really made you reconsider the word 'break up'.

A snap of a finger made you jolted awake and you realised how stupid you could have looked, with a wide grin stapled onto your face as you admired your suitor in front of you. Rafayel however, has a pout on his lips and he crossed his arms, unsatisfied with the lack of succor he received from his all-time lover. "You are lucky I love you, or else I am suing you for making me look like a fool when I am the least bit interested in theatrical acts." Then, the both of you burst out into laughters, filling the void of the dead silence.

ZAYNE - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝

You flicked your wrist to stare at your new watch that Zayne had gotten for you. It is almost lunch time but you still did not managed to catch sight of Zayne anywhere. You scanned the crowd, watching staffs and patients zooming across the lobbies in various speeds. Weekdays are not an excuse for this famous hospital to have barren hallways as you have figured.

Heavy footfalls against the marbled flooring made you turned your head and you noticed Zayne standing near one of the pharmacy counters, with a girl right next to him. You knew all of the people your boyfriend is associated with but the absence of a memory for the girl's face suggested that she may be new around here. Your eyes started to study this stranger occupying herself right next to your boyfriend.

She has short, neat brunette hair that sits right below her ear lobes. Certainly well-dressed within the premises of the building; with a lilac blouse on and well-fitted jeans, with a pair of low pumps. Her clipboard in her arm and the blue tag pinned against her lovely blouse gave away her position as an intern. Then, this would explain why she would be around Zayne.

But, it does not explain the scenario when she said something with a grin and your normally emotionless boyfriend smiles back, all the while adjusting his necktie. Arbitrarily, you were not really affected by his reactions. He is human afterall. Although humourless most of the time, but it still does not deny him the opportunity to take in a good joke and react naturally to it. The young man nodded his head and you watched the intern walked off before you looked back to Zayne, noticing he already has his eyes on you and is already strutting over to you.

"Hey Zayne." You greeted him warmly, a smile on your face but not lurching forward to hug him as the both of you had agreed to not display any PDAs when he is still within his work premises. "Who's that just now?"

"An intern I was assigned with two months ago." He spoke, eyeing the watch on your wrist. "I see you are making good use of the Rolex. It's about time an adult like you keep track of your own time." You shot him a look of discontentment at his usage of puns but still laughed either ways. "I've gotten us a table at a nearby restaurant, let's get going."

"How's the steak?" Zayne asked, his hazel orbs glided from your face to your plate and back to your face again, expecting an answer.

The restaurant looked amazing, elegantly decorated in shades of white and gold, mirroring the decors and theme from those mythical stories that hailed from the ancient Greek and Roman mythologies. Gargoyles made of porcelain fitted within the alcoves of the vined halls, recessed within the stilts that holds up the ceiling.

"It is good, as per usual from your choice." You catch his eyes briefly and diverted your gaze back onto the meal in front of you. "What is the name of the intern?"

Zayne paused, taking a moment to sip onto the orange juice he had ordered and dabbing the napkin over his lips. "Azalea."

"It's funny how she was never mentioned to me before." It is your turn to lay down your cutlery this time, repeating the steps as what Zayne had done but the only difference is that you sipped onto lemon tea rather than orange juice. "Despite it has been two months."

The man that sat in front of you eased back into his chair, sighing. "I just figured she is an intern and that what goes on between me and her on a daily basis are not worth to be mentioned about. It seemed unnecessary." Your question was not meant to be an argument starter but with the way how Zayne sounded so dismissive about this intern of his, you could not help but to grow suspicious of things between them. When you are about to say something else, a subtle vibration was heard and you caught sight of Zayne's phone screen lighting up. "I have to take this." He got up and left the table to take the phone call outside, leaving you within your own realm of questions.

The phone call took a while. Much to your surprise, the name that flashed across his screen was none other than Azalea. Furthermore, the other surprise factor is that the phone call is taking such a while that you are beginning to imagine fishes appearing in your cauliflower soup. When Zayne came back to the table, he looked apologetic somehow, picking up his coat in a swift motion. "I have to return to the hospital now. I have an immediate surgery scheduled at 3pm later."

Walking beside him, you could not bring yourself to ask who was it on the phone as the name showcased on the screen was bright as day and it would not stop flashing up in your mind. You intertwined your own fingers, mentally encouraging yourself to not worry much about the issue as Zayne had always been loyal to you. However, this is where the devil starts pulling its strings when you started wondering was it because of the fact he had always been so loyal that he got bored? Maybe Azalea turned up to be a whole new, fresh, brilliant individual that may have managed to tempt Zayne. Your confidence in the relationship is immediately questioned at that moment.

"I'm sorry I can't fetch you back. Once you're home, drop me a text." Zayne rubbed his palm on the small of your back but his warmth seemingly non-existent. "I will see you soon."

After the last time the both of you had lunch, Zayne started getting really busy while you, you just got more and more isolated. No, things did not exactly ended between the both of you but at this rate, prepping yourself for the end of days may not be exaggerative at all. The both of you still do have phone calls everyday, but it was textbook-like. The usual greetings and casual singular-sentenced conversations before either one has to run off to work. Maybe sometimes, you might get the luck of hearing Azalea in the background, chattering and laughing off with that nurse that manages Zayne's schedule for the day.

Slowly but surely, the phone calls slowly turned into texts and eventually, your texts became haphazard, even going as far as you having to weigh your mood to determine your willingness to reply. You just could not bring yourself to ask him the question marks in your head, and yet, breaking up is not an option as this may just be a stupid thing to fight and end things up for. So, you struggled alone allowing yourself to be raptured within the palms of your own worries for the future of your relationship. It is also saddening to see that your thoughts now are only full of Azalea; with the memories of you and Zayne but your face being replaced by that intern's features.

A knock on the door made you jolted and you spilled some water onto your shirt. "Tsk, come on. Really?" Muttering to yourself, you got off of the sofa and made your way towards the doorway. Hands hurriedly dusting off the stain the best you could before you came face to face with the person standing at your door. "Hi, how can I—Zayne?"

“I figured you would be at home.” Zayne welcomed himself into your house and you willingly step aside, palms and forehead dripping with cold sweat. His presence has not been exactly expected, but maybe because it was unexpected, you find yourself flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. “You had been very…” He shrugged off his coat, his movements languid but slow, his words churning at the tip of his tongue as Zayne does not want to sound rude. “Distant lately. I came over to check up on you.”

“I was just busy.” You mumbled, toes wriggled against your wooden flooring to trick yourself int thinking time might speed up with this method. It has been a fair amount of time since the two of you had last met up. It has been a fortnight exactly. You missed him dearly but with your own Azalea dilemma, you could not make the judgement for him. Pessimistic one might say and sadly, you admit that you are a prime example for the term.

“Busy catching up on those reality shows of yours I see. That is one way to define busy.” Zayne stepped up to you, his height providing him an advantage to corner you towards your wall. “What’s the matter? You do not look so well. Do you need me to check—”

The extension of his hand was stopped with your grip before he could feel your forehead's temperature. Your cementing grip causing the doctor to raise one of his thin eyebrows. “I don’t need you here.”

“Why?” Subtle but pushy. His deepened voice hinted curiosity. Zayne has never been the one to bear the trait of being assumptive but with how things had developed between the two of you, Zayne himself started realising the amount of doubts that has been growing on him. He is not fond of his particular messy thoughts and he was ought to get an answer out of you tonight.

You released your grip on his wrist and the doctor did not move back, but stayed stagnant in his spot, still staring down at you, hoping that you would at least look up to meet his concerned gaze. He only got slightly disappointed when you lowered your head even further. “You had been cheating on me with Azalea haven’t you?”

Zayne’s eyebrows tilted upwards again, watching your figure growing smaller and smaller in front of him. You are literally shaking, melting, gnawing at yourself for wanting to confront him when your good conscience is asking every bit of you to not mess up what is left of the relationship. Still, a relationship without clarification via communication is as good as not being in a relationship. “Why would you think so?”

You can hear, no. You can feel your mind pushing your heart out of the way like how rugby players be doing on the field, roughhousing the shit out of every opponent they see. “We barely talked, we barely made plans, you are always at the hospital and I had to result to getting updates from your nurse about your schedule and all I see is that intern’s name on most of it. And usually, you would not even have interns on your surgery schedules. What makes her so special?” You wanted to stop yourself but your mouth was no longer yours.

“Not to mention, the way you smiled at her that day when I came by to visit you. It took me a year to get you to at least crack a smile at my stupid jokes but it only takes her two months. Your one-worded responses about her made it seemed like you are really hiding something from me. But, with how things are recently, I am starting to question the basis of our love for one another.”

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes after your yapping came to an end. “When I bought that watch for you to get a sense of time, I do not mean you should be wasting your time on having to crack your head and heart at such wringing issues like this y/n.” His sudden defensiveness made you snapped your head up towards him. How dare he! “I am a man of integrity y/n and I am sorry.” Your anger immediately dissolved, watching Zayne getting down onto one of his knees so that you do not have to crane your neck the whole time while having this conversation. He held your hand slowly, the soft and calloused palms of his matching the heat of yours and he pulled you to sit onto his thigh. “Allow me to explain.”

Apparently, the reason why they are both stuck to the hip is because Zayne was pressured by the medical board to provide her an ‘all-access pass’ to his treatments, surgeries and also anything related to his responsibilities. Zayne is not an advocate for someone who rises through the ranks with nepotism but he was also surprised that she is not just a nepo-baby, but she actually has the brains to be a capable doctor in the future. Hence, Zayne was more willing to overlook his moral judgement for a bit and to actually tutor her according to his own will to create a successful doctor for the near future. When he spoke of the incident whereas he was caught smiling at her, his response is straight. “She is a lesbian and she has a girlfriend.”

Slouched on the couch, you leaned in, nestling your face into his collarbone and you felt the pads of his fingers pressed against your chin and he guided you to look at him. The dashing young man that you are more than glad to acknowledge him as your boyfriend looked extremely seductive under the low light conditions. Zayne’s lips tugged up into a subtle smirk and you noticed the way his eyes flicked in between your eyes and your lips. Perhaps, he owns the talent of being a psychic. “Y/n. From now on, I do not wish for you to worry yourself with such ridiculous thoughts anymore. It concerns me that you are holed up only to yourself when my heart is opened for you and only you my darling. I need you to know that you can always rely on me and I will always be here for you.” The man then leaned down to press a deep kiss onto your soft lips.

XAVIER - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

The last thing you expected was to be attending the reunion party held by Captain Jenna on your long-awaited off day. Several other divisions are invited for this reunion as one of the main purpose for this party is to encourage everyone to let off some steam as well. You tugged lightly at the collar of your turtleneck, feeling like the outfit is not only choking you but your lack of motivation to conduct social interaction is having a grip at your trachea too. "It's nice to see you here." A familiar voice rung past your hearing and you watched your boyfriend approached you.

He is rocking his usual hunter outfit but this time it is in white-grey combination rather than the usual white-navy or full-white sets. He took his stand beside you and covered his mouth immediately, a yawn setting into his palms. Even your boyfriend is rhyming to the same mindset of yours of wanting to just have the day to himself or to spend it only with you. "I suppose you did not want to be here either?" You chirped, taking a deep breath and stepping into the hall, with Xavier tailing your shadow.

"Nothing ever beats a good nap. But, I guess I have no choice when Captain Jenna told me that you are obligated to join." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Situating himself right next to you. "And I suppose it would not be a bad idea to accompany you in case you get lonely."

The normally neat, simplistic-looking hall is now decorated with colourful streamers and balloons. Standing cocktail tables are aligned near a temporary bar stand that was themed like a Hawaii beach-side bar while fancier banquet tables were placed at the end of the hall. But you gave the party the benefit of the doubt when you noticed a DJ is placed at the very end of the hall, spinning records on their devices. This party is a fun mess.

"I guess this is Captain's idea of a fun party huh?" Xavier asked, question indirectly directed towards you, but mostly towards himself. Cannot blame either one of you as none of you are known to be the best party goers amongst the division. If you both were to be placed into a category for the type of party-goers, the two of you would definitely fit right into the 'non-existent' type.

"Either ways Xavier, I know at least I got you." You turned to him and flashed him a smile and the blond man did the same, patting you on the head as well for his usual comforting gesture. "I think I will go ahead and look for Tara first. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay. If you get overwhelmed, you can always find me and we can always make an excuse to ride home alright?" His azure orbs were tinted with a shade of baby blue under the garish fluorescent lights. Your nod rewarded you another pat on your head and you dived into the crowds of people, in search for your best friend Tara.

Honestly, at this moment, you wished you had not been looking for Tara as now you are stuck in this awkward social circle of hers. Conversations consisting mainly of newest fashion trends and celebrity gossips are such new grounds to you, more like never-will-touch grounds of conversation. "Hey, you alright?" Tara's pat on your shoulder snapped you out of your boredom and you blinked a couple of times.

"Y...yeah I am fine." Jeez. You should have asked for an opportunity to leave when you got to but your people pleaser attitude does not really grant you the will to just spit out an excuse and peace out. "I am just not the best at these kind of conversations." At least some parts of the truth managed to be rolled out.

"Girls! Girls! The dance is starting." One of the girls came joining the small circle, her smile stretched from ear to ear. "Let's hit the dance floor!" Then you watched as the freckled girl dragged Tara and another girl --whose name you do not recall-- through the crowd and towards the empty space in the middle of it all. The music suddenly had a drastic warped tune to it and it went from sentimental, lovey-dovey songs straight into songs one would blast in the gym or a nightclub.

You looked around and figured maybe this is the best time for you to plan your escape so you started to squeeze through bodies to get to the exit. As you passed by the dancefloor, a familiar figure reeled your attention and you focused in on the figure only to find Xavier standing in front of a girl, talking in the middle of the dancefloor. With the amount of people occupying the dancefloor, there is no doubt some form of physical contact would occur.

Speaking of which, you watched as a man bumped into Xavier and then he hit against the girl, arms reaching around her shoulder to steady himself. The fluorescent lights suddenly went off and laser-like pointers and stage lights becoming the main source of lighting. It is dimmer for sure, but not dim enough for you to figure out that Xavier and the girl are a little too close in each other's personal bubble.

"Look at that couple there." You overheard someone talking behind your back. "I heard they used to date back in the day but then things did not end well."

"Why? What happened?" Another voice chimed in right when the sentence finished.

"The girl got pregnant or so I heard." Your eyes widened in horror when you heard the story. Why have you not heard of the existence of Xavier's ex-girlfriend? He sure is and always have been a man of mystery but you did not expect that he would refrain to tell you such an important information. Here you thought him telling you about his most embarrassing memories of his younger self is considered intimate enough. You could feel your tears welling up, your gaze blurry as you tore your eyes off of the 'couple' and you stomped off and out of the hall, pushing through the crowd like a loaded bulldozer.

You got out of the crowd by jamming yourself through any visible gaps you can see in the aphotic surroundings. Once you got out of the doors, you took in a deep breath, taking in the smell of fresh air that held hints of sourness. Then, you got onto your bike and zoomed off into the embrace of the darkness.

Panting, you wiped the ichor off of the sides of your face, hissing at the gash on your wounded arm. A parting gift from the golem that you had just managed to defeat all by yourself. You flipped your wrist over and looked at your hunter's watch. "No more missions assigned to Agent y/n at this moment." The watch reported, the stiff robotic voice eliciting a huff of annoyance from you. Well, it is late in the middle of the night and you should really be on your way home.

You looked up into the skies as you navigated your way back to your vehicle. Stars littering all over the deadened skies provided a sense of relevancy to your self-isolation for the past few months. Your breakup with Xavier was done through a phone call, with you calling things off without even providing a explanation and blocking him right after. Following up, you requested to be switched to another branch and got yourself moved to a new location. Just like this, it was as if Xavier was never a part of your life.

But, he has been such a part of your routine for the past one year that it had left you in a state of bereft, seeking solace within the past fond memories that you had once shared with him. Before your trail of memories gained access to your mind, you halted your footsteps, eyes studying the three separate routes in front of you. Which one had you taken previously?

"Lost?" A voice startled you and you immediately drew your guns out of your garter belt, aimed directly at head shot level towards the source of the voice. But, you lowered your gun eventually when you came face to face with your ex-lover. "Or you just got caught up in your own thoughts?"

Your act of abnegation was shown with you not entertaining his question and instead, takes a step past him. Xavier however, held onto your arm to get you to stop and your wince alerted him of the laceration on your arm. "I'm fine, I do not seek for your care. I can handle it myself."

"Just like how you handled our breakup. Which is not the most mature I'd say." Xavier loosened his grip and sighed, turning to face you and his voice came off softer. "I have been searching everywhere for you, do you know that?"

"Like I'd said Xavier, there is nothing I wish to clarify to you. A breakup is a breakup." You stood your ground, eyes digging its way through the soil if that is an eligible euphemism amidst this awkward moment.

"You not having the wish to clarify the reasons for our breakup does not mean that I do not wish to know about it y/n. So, are you going to break it to me or would you wish to be left alone?" Desperation came upon his voice as he spoke. If you have a better sense of hearing, you might just be able to catch the slight change of octave in his voice. Oh, how you wish you could just disappear right now, just evaporating up into the night skies. "Y/n."

"Why did you kept a secret behind my back? Especially when it involves your ex-girlfriend having a pregnancy?" You managed to spit out after a minute of contemplation. Escaping is not an option for you either when your ex-lover has the ability to teleport within a good amount of range.

Xavier's lips opened and closed again, hesitation flashed across his face and his eyebrows knitted together now. "What?" His response to a question with another question got you curious so you looked at him. The poor young man looked shocked, eyes widened and jaws slacked. "I do not have an ex-girlfriend."

Your confidence crumbled with a big gaping hole in the middle of your heart as you stared at him with the same expression of his. "That day, at the reunion party. I saw you were chatting with a girl and I overheard the conversation from the people beside me stating that the both of you used to share an intimate connection and you got her knocked up--"

Your voice slowly trailed off when the moonlight peeked through the crevices in between the leaves of the trees, illuminating Xavier's lack of expression in front of you. Although he wears a poker face, you can tell that he was borderline amused and yet in a state of pity for your behalf. "Someone owes me a big apology I suppose." Yes, of course you do. "Just to fill in the gaps for you, the girl I was speaking to used to be my partner till she got married and have to take care of her child hence she got transferred to another division. The story that you heard of, was hers, but the guy part, I am definitely not involved."

"I'm so so sorry Xavier. I just couldn't believe what I was hearing and my emotions got to the best of me. I am so sorry." Your lip trembled as you spoke, voice cracking when you finally admitted that you are the jerk for having to pull such a stunt on him over some petty rumours that you refuse to address to him. "I didn't mean to." Your body was jerked forward and your forehead collided with his warm chest. His arms was quick to pull you in for a hug. "I forgive you y/n. It's okay, don't cry." Yet, you still failed to oblige and started to sob into his chest like a child that received her very first lecture. "I am glad I still managed to find you even after all of these months." His hand rubbed soothing circles onto your back until you regained back your composure. His palms rising up and falling down according to the undulating tempo of your breaths.

"Thank you for coming for me." Your arms tightened around his waist and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto the top of your forehead.

"I will be looking forward to you making up for this mistake of yours." He smiled, the moonlight cascading onto the both of you like a stage light. "Let's start with no more breaking up over stupid rumours okay?"

@elysiel is the lovely reader who came up with this idea hence I decided to put my own twist into things so I hope you are very much pleased my love and @prettytemis wished to be tagged when I post this up so here it goes! <3

[poppadom0912]

New Years Eve

Summary: New Years looks a little different but you don't mind at all.

A/N: After much contemplation, I decided to write this little baby as one last thing to end off the year. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and hopefully an amazing new year. Thank you so much for all the love and support you showed me this year, I truly can't express my appreciation and just how much it's helped me.

Being a surgeon meant that you had peculiar shifts and sometimes it meant working holidays. You were lucky enough to spend Christmas at home with your family but not so much for new years.

You weren't too bothered however. Your family had no plans this year as they all went abroad and you were stuck.

Despite being unable to maintain traditions this year, you and a few special people could make new ones.

The night was suspiciously quiet, allowing you and Connor to take a well deserved break and have a much needed catch up in the break room.

Laughing at Connor's unfortunate family dinner tale, you were interrupted by a knock on the door which was pushed open before either of you could say anything.

"Mama, mama!" The babbles of your child made it so that your smile widened. Their chubby legs staggering as they were supported by your husband who was helping them 'walk' towards where you were sat.

"Oh hello Daisy! Look at you!" You stood up, opening your arms as she picked up the pace to throw herself forward into your embrace that was one of her favourite places to be. "Mama missed you baby."

Her following giggles brightened up the room, it was as if she understood your words. Her smile, with a few teeth poking out, were a welcomed sight as her hand clutched your scrubs.

"Oh! And whose this?" You questioned her innocently, looking at the other man in wonder.

Connor held in a laugh at the scene before him.

Turning to the direction you were pointing, Daisy babbled nonsensical gibberish that you nodded to understandingly. "Ah I see, you picked up a stray on your way here. That's so generous of you love."

Kelly rolled his eyes, knowing fully well you were indirectly jabbing him for his soot covered face. He clearly hadn't cleaned himself after their latest call.

This time last year, the exact same thing happened. It was almost like deja-vu but instead of being pregnant, this time you had a baby in your arms and... Connor was here.

Looking back at one of your best friends and colleagues, you raised a brow at him, a knowing smile on your face.

Connor laughed, nodding his head with a certain look on his face. "Alright, alright, I know when I'm not wanted."

"You love us." Kelly said, smile filled with appreciation as the man got up.

"Yeah yeah, get out of here Rhodes. Go find Will to kiss at twelve." You half joked, was half serious, your tone giving nothing away.

His laugh came straight from the chest, shocked but also expecting it from you at the same time.

"Kiss this fine specimen twice for me instead, m'kay?" Connor asked rhetorically, firmly patting Kelly on the shoulder as he winked at you, not waiting for a reply before leaving.

"How are my girls doing?" Kelly asked, moving towards you to wrap his hands around you waist.

"I should be asking you that, you two have been having fun at the firehouse together all day." You replied, letting Daisy play with the random junk you had in the breast pocket of your scrubs.

"Little missy here had the time of her life with her aunts and uncles today. She was very spoilt and I'm very surprised they haven't tired her out."

You hummed, the baby in your arms was still buzzing with energy but the concern about her bedtime could be a problem for the new year.

The silence was welcoming. Being a surgeon and a mother meant that it was a rare thing but you relished it every single time.

"We going to make this a yearly thing?" You asked, fixing Kelly's collar. "Working every new years, you coming here to kiss me senseless and run away all smug like you're so cool. I have a strict reputation to maintain - need to keep instilling fear in the students."

"Ahh I see." Kelly nodded, lips pursed as he looked at your daughter when he replied.

"Your mummy thinks she's so scary, isn't she just so adorable?!" He said in the baby voice that he uses when talking to Daisy who knew none the better that he was making fun of you.

"Piss off." You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder away but he barely moved, stood firm on the ground even with all the effort you put in.

"Aww, don't worry baby, I still love you." He circled his arms back around you, bringing you into his embrace, holding his two girls close to him.

"No that's it, no more kisses for you." You shook your head, trying your best to be serious as you exchanged the banter that even though it was small, made days like today better.

Kelly hummed, as if he didn't believe your threats. He looked down at you and Daisy with such adoration and love that it was palpable. After such hard days, small pockets of time with just the three of you grounded him in such a way very few could do.

The countdown started, muffled voices counting down from outside, breaking the bubble of your little family was in.

"I love you."

Your smile was identical to the smile Daisy wore. She was your exact carbon copy and to have both of you looking up at him with the exact same look, Kelly was ready to fight the whole world for his two girls.

"I love you too."

"3, 2, 1... Happy New Year!"

Without a second to waste, Kelly's calloused hands cradled your jaw, pulling you into a searing kiss that you instantly melted into, getting lost into it even as little fingers tapped your face, trying to pry Kelly's face off of yours.

The laugh that came from you was unbecoming but this was quite new. Daisy pushed Kelly's face away from yours, ignoring his sour face as she kissed you instead. 'Kiss' being very loose as it was just her open mouth repeatedly smacking your cheek.

Unable to begrudge her, Kelly joined in, kissing the other cheek in unison.

Then, in sync, you and Kelly turned and drowned Daisy in kisses. The sudden onslaught of kisses surprising her, her giggles loud and beautiful, the most wonderful sound you ever heard. Her smile wide, dimples deep and eyes squinting.

Yeah, this was definitely a new years tradition you could get used to.

[laswells-ashtray]

Soooo because I can't write this properly, so I'm entrusting you with this.

Nik hurt Price comfort.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Nikolai knows he isn't a young man anymore.

He hears men in their twenties make internet references that go over his head, they all sound like gibberish but apparently, they're humorous to surrounding 20-something year old men.

There are specks of grey starting to appear when he lets his stubble grow out and one stubborn steel strand behind his left ear that he can't seem to hide when he tucks his hair back.

But the excruciating sharp pain that spreads throughout his knee more often than not when he gets out of bed in the morning is a slap in the face to the man he once was.

Realistically he'd always known that the work he does would catch up with him but something about taking that extra minute in the morning just so that he can move without his right knee going out from under him is humiliating.

It isn't just his age, old injuries have a way of making themselves known but it would seem that the older he gets, the longer the list of pains that ail him.

Nikolai is a grown man, he can admit that it awakens an insecurity inside of him that he thought buried. Is he still good enough for John? He had proven himself many years ago but he no longer has the same vitality and agility that he had so often taken for granted.

John is a man in his prime. When did he pass his?

There are many things that a man can ponder whilst waiting to regain the full use of his right knee and yet Nikolai always seems to fall back into that swirling pool of shame and self-doubt. He has yet to find a way out of the water without letting himself drown, choking back into awareness.

One hand rests on the edge of his nightstand, holding him steady as he keeps his weight on his left leg. It's a practised routine by now.

Curling his toes into the carpeted floor beneath him acts as a source of amusement, it is one of few actions that can offer him a distraction as he waits out the aching.

John's string of curses as he batters his pinky off of the doorway is as close to a greeting as he'll receive, he believes that the phrase Sergeant MacTavish would use to describe his partner's ordeal is Fucked It.

The captain somehow manages to overcome his anguish as he approaches Nikolai, stopping in front of him and offering his knee a look of contempt as if the joint had assaulted him personally.

When will it become an inconvenience to him? A flaw that he just can't see past.

"Still playing up?"

He offers John a reluctant nod, there's no use in denying the obvious.

"Why not sit down? It's clearly worse than usual and you're only doing yourself more harm standing, give it a bit of time as you sit down then try to walk around again later."

John's suggestion is deliberately gentle and by the look on his face, Nikolai knows that he's expecting a fight. Maybe he expects the pilot to blow up at him like he has before on one of his worst days, a memory that causes guilt to hack away at what little parts he has that remain undamaged.

Instead, he lowers himself onto the edge of their bed and pretends to miss John's obvious relief.

The other man is quick to park himself beside Nikolai only to fall back until he's sprawled on top of the duvet, fingers hooked on the edge of the mattress as he stares up at their ceiling.

"Back's fucked today. Was thinking of staying in for a bit but if neither of us are up to it then we could go for a lazy day. Bed and Bond, best way to go."

He glances down at his partner, catching the faint grimace on his face as he tries to shift his weight off of the lower left side of his back.

"Okay."

For both of their sakes, he can succumb to his desire for laziness in the name of pain relief.

"C'mere, lie down with me. Can get a catnap in if I've got a good-looking man in my bed and he'll let me use him as a pillow."

The sincerity in John's tone is almost sickening, as is the warm look as he lifts his head just to admire Nikolai. There's an undeniable honesty about the devotion that the other man dedicates to him, his very existence even in its worst state is something that John cherishes. It almost makes him feel bad for doubting them both.

So, he nudges John's shoulder and waits for the other man to settle back onto the side of the bed that he had abandoned only an hour ago before he makes the move to lie down. The pain in his knee is no longer torturous, throbbing lessened to a mere irritation.

The pilot feigns exasperation almost as well as the captain often hides it. "Flattery will gain you nothing."

In lieu of responding, John just plants his face on one of his tits and nuzzles into his chest hair.

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 3 (Final)

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! First up is Cinderella starring Gojo! You met Prince Gojo as a child and fell in love, but you’re sure he doesn’t remember you. When you’re forced to take your stepsister’s place as his “pleasure” for the evening, you’ll get your reunion, but it might not be what you hoped for.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty here!

Read Choso x Rapunzel Here!

Read Toji x Snow White Here!

Read Higuruma x Little Mermaid Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Fairytale AU. Gojo as Prince Charming. Reader as Cinderella. Rough sex. Semi-public sex. Mentions of abuse by the wicked stepmother and stepsisters.

Any and all feedback would be appreciated so much! There will probably be three parts. Dividers by @benkeibear and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You took the carriage Geto had sent for you back home. This time, you wanted to get back as quickly as possible so you could change out of the dress before your stepmother gets home. 

You stand in your bedroom, folding the beautiful garment neatly and placing the gloves and crown beside it. You write out a short note and stick it into the folds of the dress. 

“To Lord Geto, thanks for letting me wear this lovely costume. I’m sorry I got bloodstains on it. Please forgive me for the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Then you pack up your few scant belongings, including the glass slippers and a few books, into a bag and wait in the kitchen. 

Less than an hour later, your stepmother and stepsisters arrive, laughing merrily as they walk inside. When they see you, they don’t seem to notice the bag at your feet, or the serious look on your face.

“Oh, Cinderella, listen,” one of your stepsisters says. “That Prince you like so much is getting married! They announced it at the ball! And just two days after he slept with you. You really must have been forgettable!”

Both girls laugh, but you don’t respond. At this point, you don’t even care what they say.

Their mother has an amused grin on her face. “He didn’t seem too happy about it though. He went up to the throne and argued with his father right in front of everyone. How  crass! It’s nice to know even royalty have their problems.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of him confronting his father publicly. But it’s no use now. You won’t let him sacrifice the life he’s built up just to be with you. He’s clearly an excellent ruler, and the kingdom is thriving. This is all important to him.

Eventually your stepmother seems to notice that something is wrong. You’re not scurrying to help them remove their shawls and slippers, instead standing completely still in the kitchen. 

“What is it? Did you break something while we were gone? Spit it out so I can give you your lashings!”

“No, stepmother. I’m leaving,” you say. 

Her face crinkles in confusion, as if she heard your words but they sounded like gibberish to her. “What did you say?”

You pick up the bag from the floor. “I’m leaving,” you repeat. “You can keep father’s estate. I don’t care anymore. You should know that Prince Gojo will probably visit in the morning. If Lord Geto is with him, please give him the items I left folded on my bed. He knows they should be here, so I don’t recommend hiding or selling them.”

“The Prince?! Why would he come here?” she sputters. 

Ignoring the question, you walk past her and her stunned daughters, heading for the door. She reaches out and grabs your arm. “You can’t just leave!”

You jerk your arm free. “Actually, I can. I should have the day I turned eighteen, but I was waiting for someone to rescue me from this hell you created for me. I realize now that’s never going to happen. Goodbye, stepmother.”

Then you walk out the door, closing it behind you. 

No one comes after you. They’re probably hurrying to your room to see if the items you left for Lord Geto include expensive glass slippers. 

You don’t know where to go, what to do, but you know you can’t stay here with these people any longer. They’ll destroy your spirit as well as your body if you do. 

With no money, your options are extremely limited. You thought of going to the old servants’ quarters, but that was still on your father’s estate. It probably wouldn’t take your stepmother long to check there. So you head into town. Maybe you’ll find someone willing to hire you as a servant. But for tonight, you’re on your own. 

A drop of water hits the top of your head, and you look up. Not a single star visible in the night sky. If it’s this cloudy, rain should be expected. As more drops begin to fall, you find yourself thinking “why not?”. You have terrible luck, and your life is in shambles. You hold the heavy bag over your head like a shield and run the rest of the way to town. 

*****************************

Despite the advice of, well, everyone, Gojo is in a carriage heading for Cinderella’s house. He got held up at the ball when he told his father he was not marrying Princess Yumi (who seemed somewhat relieved - she might even have someone she loves as well). An argument broke out, in front of all the guests. Something like that has never happened before, but Gojo is struggling to spare time to care. 

After much shouting, threatening, and insults, his father finally relented. Princess Yumi would go home in the morning. But Gojo’s father demanded to meet the woman who has captured his son’s heart, and made no promises about accepting her. 

It doesn’t really matter. Gojo plans to marry the girl of his dreams, regardless of his father’s approval. 

Geto sits across from him in the carriage, looking unbothered and serene as usual. 

“How long have you known where she lives?”

Gojo asks. 

“I had my suspicions when we visited two days ago, but I only confirmed it this afternoon.”

Gojo stares at his friend. “Did you know she was being abused?”

Geto shakes his head. “I guessed her stepmother didn’t treat her well, but I had no idea she was being beaten.”

Gojo’s hands are gripping his knees. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself when I’m face to face with that monstrous old woman. I need you to keep me calm.”

“I’ll certainly try,” Geto replies. 

When they finally reach Cinderella’s house, Gojo jumps down out of the carriage before it even stops rolling, hurrying to the door and pounding on it, ignoring the rain pouring down on his head. Geto comes up behind him as the door slowly creaks open. 

Standing in the doorway is that damned stepmother, looking surprised to see him. She hurries to step aside and let him in. “My Prince! Please come in out of the rain!”

Gojo storms in, his hair wet and hanging in his eyes. The woman’s daughters are standing nearby, still in their costumes from the ball. His eyes sweep over the room. “Where is she?” he demands. 

“Whoever do you mean, Your Highness?” the old woman asks. 

He rounds on her. “The girl you call Cinderella! I already know she lives here! Do not test my patience!”

The stepmother looks shocked for a moment, then says, “What has that awful girl done now? Is this about the glass shoes? I tried to make her tell me where they are, but she refused. She’s a stubborn one!”

“WHERE IS SHE?!” he roars. He can feel Geto’s presence behind him, close enough to reach out and touch him if need be. 

The two daughters flinch and shrink away. Gojo doesn’t know how involved they’ve been in the abuse, so he’s ignoring them for now. The stepmother’s bottom lip quivers as she answers: “She left, Your Highness. Less than an hour before you arrived.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, Your Highness! Truly I don’t!”

Just then one of the daughters approaches Geto with a folded bundle of fabric in her arms. “She left this in her room, my Lord, with instructions to give it to you.”

Geto takes the offered items and glances at Gojo. “It’s the costume, and a note.”

“Does it say where she went?”

Geto shakes his head. “No, but I do have some ideas.”

The two of them turn to leave. The thought of his love shivering in the rain, her back covered in bloody wounds, makes Gojo sick with worry. He has to find her immediately. 

The stepmother calls out to him. “I hope you won’t hold my daughters and I responsible for that little parasite’s actions! We have nothing to do with her!”

Gojo feels something snap within him, and in seconds he has his sword drawn and pointed at the woman’s throat. “That ‘parasite’ is to be your new Princess! You will address her with the honor and respect she deserves! I will be dealing with you later.” 

The woman wilts to her knees, her two daughters too frozen in shock to even go to her side. 

Gojo hurries out and finds that Geto is not in the carriage, but walking ahead, toward an old building on the estate. He catches up with his advisor. 

“You think she’s in there?”

Geto keeps walking, seemingly paying no mind to the rain. “It’s worth looking. At one point she had the glass slippers hidden there.”

“How do you know that?”

Geto’s eyes slide over to his Prince. “I stand back and observe, Satoru. You should try it sometime.”

Gojo ignores the barb as they reach the building. It looks like an old servants’ quarters. The two of them search it top to bottom but find no hint of her presence. 

Back in the carriage, Gojo doesn’t know where to look next. He sits with his head in his hands. “You should have seen them, Suguru,” he says. “Those wounds… they need treatment!”

“And they will be treated. We’ll find her. Now, can you think of anywhere she might go? You probably know her better than anyone.”

Gojo wracks his brain, going over every conversation in his mind. She never mentioned any specific places. The only times he saw her were at the castle and the inn, and he doubts she would go to either place. The inn is somewhat expensive, and he can’t imagine her stepmother gave her any coin when she left. Still, he supposes they could check it to be sure. 

Wait… there is another place he met her, long ago. He looks up at Suguru. “I know a place to look!”

*************************

When the rain got too hard to bear, you had to find a quick place to take cover. Standing in the town square, soaked to the bone and carrying a bag with all your possessions, you instinctively headed for the place you went to for refuge as a child.

Now you find yourself huddling under the stone steps leading to the flower shop, just trying to keep from being soaked any further. Your back hurts, the rough wet fabric of your tattered dress rubbing it in an unpleasant way. You wish you had let Satoru have his doctors bandage it. 

As you sit there shivering, cold and wet and miserable, you try to convince yourself you made the right decision. Standing in front of your stepmother in the kitchen, you’d felt certain. But now, sitting here under some stairs, you don’t feel so sure. You didn’t know it was going to rain tonight. You didn’t realize the universe would be so quick to show you how alone and helpless you are. 

Tears fill your eyes. You rub them with both hands as your body shakes with sobs. You’ll try to be strong tomorrow. But for now, you just need to cry. 

“Hey there,” a voice says, and you look up to find Prince Gojo, soaking wet but grinning at you. “Wanna run away together?”

You blink, wiping your eyes. Is this real? How did he find you? 

“…Satoru?”

He holds out his hand to you, and you numbly take it. He gently pulls you to your feet, then leads you down the street and stops under an awning. 

You look up at him, trying to decide what to say. He sighs and turns to face you. “The way I figure, we have two options,” he says. “We can live in the castle and rule as a couple, deal with all the challenges together, or we can run away to a neighboring country and live as hermits. I’ll let you choose. Either way we’ll be together.”

“Your father will never accept me. The kingdom will never accept me,” you tell him, turning your face away. “You’ll marry a true Princess, to strengthen ties with another kingdom, and-“

“The kingdom is plenty strong right now,” he says. “Our relationships with our neighbors are good. And my father may be a stubborn old goat but he’s not stupid. He knows I’m the best ruler this kingdom has ever had. He’s not going to disinherit me because of who I marry.”

He’s still holding one of your hands in his. With his free hand he touches your face and turns it to make you look at him. “I’m not saying there won’t be problems. There will be judgmental nobles complaining and court ladies gossiping. And you will be the one bearing the brunt of their dissatisfaction. But I won’t let anyone hurt you or insult you. I’ll stand beside you and make sure everyone knows you’re the woman I chose, the woman I love. And we’ll deal with any problems that arise, together.”

You feel your tears overflowing again. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Satoru! Every time I’ve ever gotten my hopes up, they’ve been shattered!”

His face looks pained. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have been there for you earlier, to protect you from everything that hurt you. All I can do is promise that I’ll make you happy from now on.”

With a surge of emotion, you wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself into his body. Even drenched from the rain, he’s warm. 

His hands rest on your upper arms. “It’s not fair,” he whispers. “I can’t hold you tightly without hurting your wounds.” Then he suddenly pulls back. “We have to get you to a doctor!”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” you say, though you haven’t been able to look at them properly given their location. 

“It’s exactly that serious!” he says, now pulling you toward the royal carriage parked across the street. “I’m not losing you to an infection after waiting all these years for you!”

You blush a bit at those words, but nod. “Okay. I’ll let a doctor treat me.”

“Good,” he says, “because as soon as you’re healed up, we’ll have to discuss your punishment for disobeying a royal command.”

You blink. “What command?”

He looks back at you. “I told you to never disappear on me again.”

You find yourself smiling. “I apologize, My Prince. You might have to pound some sense into me.”

A grin spreads over his face. “I’ll pound something into you alright!”

You laugh as you climb into the carriage with him. 

The next several days go by in a blur, being seen and attended to by multiple royal doctors, meeting Gojo’s father who neither accepted nor rejected you yet, and being introduced during a royal speech as the Prince’s fiancé. 

After some tense conversations, the King finally announces that he’ll officially turn rulership of the kingdom over to his son. He will be King in name only until his death, but Gojo will hold the true power of the throne. 

And finally, once you’ve healed both physically and emotionally, and are ready to face your stepfamily, Gojo summons them to the castle. 

Both you and Gojo stand on the elevated dais in the throne room. Your own throne is currently being built to your specifications, so only Gojo’s sits behind the two of you as you look down at the three kneeling figures before you. 

Gojo wastes no time getting started. “The three of you are hereby stripped of your nobility, and are to leave the estate you currently live in. Ownership shall pass to the rightful heir, my wife.”

Your stepmother looks up in shock. “Leave? But the estate belongs to me, Your Highness! My husband left it to me in his will!”

“Actually,” Gojo says, “I obtained a copy of the will and read it. You were given ownership of the estate under the condition that you take care of his daughter.”

Your stepmother glances at you, then back to the Prince. “I did take care of her, Your Highness! I kept her clothed and fed all these years!”

Gojo seems to grow tense beside you. He looks at you, as if asking if you wish to speak, but you nod for him to say what he pleases. 

He glares at the old woman. “You kept her clothed in rags while your daughters wore finery. You fed her scraps from the meals she slaved away cooking herself. You did the absolute barest minimum to keep her alive, and then profited from her labor. Worst of all, you beat her with a rod! Abuse is against the law in this kingdom!”

“My Prince, you don’t understand!” she cries desperately. “That girl is a liar! A manipulator! She has poisoned your mind!”

Gojo’s eyes flash with anger, a rage so intense that it even frightens you, his beloved. “You dare insult your Princess? You should know that the only reason the three of you still have your heads is because of my wife’s endless grace and mercy.”

All three of them look on with terrified faces, your stepsisters wisely remaining silent while your stepmother sputters indignantly. 

Then your husband turns to you. “Pass down their sentence, Your Highness.”

Three sets of wide eyes shift to you as you speak. “You are all hereby sentenced to hard labor in the work camp at the outer edge of the kingdom. Five years for my stepsisters, ten for my stepmother.”

Your stepmother hangs her head, having finally given up the fight. But your stepsisters take their turn to plead. 

“We never hit you!” one of them cries. 

“Why should we be punished?!” the other yells. 

Prince Gojo regards them coldly. “I will revoke your sentences if either one of you can tell me one kind thing you’ve ever done for your stepsister.”

The two of them look at each other, then one of them begins wailing and clutching her mother while the other glares angrily at the royal couple. Gojo signals for the guards to drag them away. 

You stand there for a moment, examining your feelings. To your surprise, you don’t feel anything for the women. Your heart is so full of love and joy that you no longer have room for hate or anger. But Gojo had insisted on punishing the people who hurt you. He stands beside you and takes your hand in his, raising it to his mouth to kiss it, and you feel only happiness. 

******************************

Gojo is tired and irritated. The ceremony to officially transfer power to him took several boring hours, and he was forced to wear the traditional Robes of the Ruler for the duration. They look ridiculous on him, he thinks, but certain traditions must be upheld. 

He stands in the empty throne room, behind his official throne, leaning over the back of it. The only other person in the room is his fiancé, who looks lovely as usual in her shimmering gown. She’s even wearing the glass slippers in celebration. 

The royal wedding is two weeks away, and the ballroom is already crawling with decorators and cooks and musicians, all planning things out. 

“Ugh, I can’t wait to take off these stupid robes,” he says. 

“I think you look good in them,” she says, stepping closer and rubbing his back. She really is a treasure. 

“I do?” he asks playfully. “Then maybe I’ll start wearing them to bed.”

She laughs. “I’m not sure how comfortable they would be, but do as you please.”

He turns to face her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “These stuffy old robes getting you excited?” he jokes, then his eyes slide over to the throne. He lowers his voice and leans in close. “Wanna fuck on my throne?”

She blushes, but smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Gojo takes a moment to summon a guard and tell him no one is allowed into the throne room, then tells him to wait outside and guard the door. His Princess looks embarrassed. “He knows what we’re doing.”

“Who cares? We’re in love. We’re supposed to be fucking each other’s brains out at every opportunity,” he tells her. 

Gojo helps her remove the heavy dress, leaving her in the thin, nearly sheer slip. She starts to step out of the glass shoes, but he grins and says, “Leave them on.”

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t question the request. She’s growing accustomed to his perversions. When he sits down on the throne and tries to pull her into his lap, she draws back, refusing with a mischievous smile. Then she lowers herself to her knees before the throne and lifts up his robes from the bottom, crawling under them. 

He feels his heartbeat quicken as she disappears beneath the fabric, only the shiny glass slippers sticking out. He feels her tugging at the thin pants he’s wearing, pulling them down enough to free his cock. Feeling but not seeing her actions is more thrilling than he expected as her soft hands stroke him. They move expertly from tip to base, then slip beneath to lightly squeeze his balls. He holds back a groan, his breaths nearly stopping when he feels her warm mouth encircle him. Her tongue teases his tip, her lips pursing around his shaft. 

“Ah, fuck, you’re amazing,” he says, his hands gripping the arm rests of his throne as she moves her head forward, practically swallowing him. He wishes he could see her face. There’s nothing hotter than looking into his beloved’s eyes as she sucks him off, but not seeing is making the physical sensations stronger. He squirms a bit in the chair, getting close to release faster than he’d like. 

Then, suddenly, the door opens. “Shit fuck!” Gojo mutters, looking up sharply and wondering who the hell the guard let in. 

Suguru strides into the throne room, smiling faintly. “The guard was acting strangely,” he’s saying as he approaches. “He didn’t want to let me in.”

Gojo feels his face getting red, feels his fiancé go still between his thighs. The poor thing, she’s probably mortified! 

“Uh, what do you need, Suguru?”

His advisor is looking at some documents in his hands. “I thought we could discuss the budget for the wedding. The decorators are asking for more funds.”

Gojo feels her mouth wrap around him again, and he chokes back a gasp. What is she doing?! Her tongue circles him, her hands squeezing, and he has to fight to keep from cumming while his friend is five feet away. 

“Any chance we could do that later?” he asks, his voice nearly breaking. 

Suguru looks up from the documents, his eyes sliding downward. He clearly notices the human-shaped lump beneath Gojo’s robes, and the glass slippers sticking out. The guy doesn’t even blush. He simply clears his throat and says, “I apologize. I didn’t realize you were indisposed. We’ll discuss this at a more convenient time.”

Then, Suguru swiftly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Gojo sighs in relief, but he’s jolted back to attention when he feels her throat tighten around him. Then she’s bobbing her head, fucking him with her sweet mouth, and it only takes a few more minutes for him to cum. 

He pulls the robes up and looks down at the love of his life. She’s licking her lips, then opens her mouth to show him the pool of sticky cum inside, nestled in the dip of her tongue. Fuck, he loves cumming in her mouth, loves watching her savor it so carefully. After she finally swallows it, she gets to her feet and stands there in her flimsy slip, looking as if she’s just begging to be ravished. 

“I can’t believe you kept going when Suguru came in,” he says. 

“There was no hiding at that point,” she tells him. “I thought it might be fun to hear how you would react.”

Her takes her arm and jerks her into his lap. “You little minx! You’re going to ruin me!”

She giggles as his hands move under her slip, one squeezing her soft breasts while the other slides down between her legs. She’s already so wet, her inner thighs slippery. Feeling her arousal is making him hard again. 

His fingers part her slick folds and find her clit, rubbing it gently at first to get her worked up. He loves how sensitive she is, how strongly she reacts to anything he does to the cute little nub. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her face to his collar bone and whimpering as his fingers move more aggressively. When he gives her a pinch, she whines and jerks, gasping for breath as he applies more pressure. 

He pinches a nipple at the same time, making her cry out. Then he lowers his voice and says, “Ride my cock, Princess. That’s a royal command.”

She’s shaking as she shifts in his lap, trying to get into a better position. “Y-yes, Your Highness.”

This is the only time he doesn’t mind her calling him that, when they’re in moments like these. 

She starts to carefully pull the slip up, but he suddenly jerks it over her head and tosses it aside, leaving her completely bare aside from the slippers. He’s learned by now that she gets turned on when he’s a little rough with her, a little domineering.

When she starts to ease herself down into his cock, he puts his hands on her hips and pulls her all the way down, making her hiss as she stretches around him. Then, she begins moving, and he feels like he’s reached heaven. 

She’s clenching so tight, her trembling hands on his shoulders, soft moans spilling from her lips, and he feels like he could die happy in this moment. 

*****************************

You don’t know how long you ride your fiancé’s cock, tossing your head back, feeling every inch of him inside you. It feels like forever, but only a moment at the same time. You can’t get enough of him. 

Suddenly he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close. “I love you so much,” he whispers in your ear. 

Your hand flies to his hair, your fingers entwining with the silky white strands. “I love you too, Satoru!”

There on his royal throne, he pushes further up into you and releases his seed, holding you in place until he’s empty. You gladly accept it, ready to bear his royal heir. 

You stay there for a long while, locked in his arms. You hear his voice, quiet and soft, say, “I’m still afraid you’ll disappear again.”

You kiss the side of his face. “Never. Besides, there’s a red string of fate binding us together, right?”

He looks up at you and smiles, the same radiant smile he wore as a child. You smile back, realizing that you would now live happily ever after. 

Tag List:

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[weemietime]

It's shit like this that people are using in their claims that there is conclusive evidence of genocide which pretty clearly demonstrates how the evidence they're working with is fundamentally contradictory, flawed and at times nonsensical.

Israel is not "evaporating" bodies with some kind of magical super-weapon. This is gibberish. This guy claims the reason why they aren't continuing to report casualties is because Israel bombs are evaporating bodies. Which would violate the first and second laws of thermodynamics.

The first being vaporizing all traces of evidence, the second being that entropy would decrease as particles decrease. And entropy increases, not decreases. Particles are prone to disperse, they don't magically vanish (with the exception of electrons which have been observed to jump forwards and backwards through time, but not on a macro scale large enough that it impacts how solid objects are).

We do not have weapons anywhere on Earth that can vaporize a human being without leaving a trace. I find it more reasonable that these people are trying to communicate that bodies are being burned, and so they don't have the technology available to keep track of the dead.

But that isn't what they say, instead they claim Israel must have developed a new technology that vaporizes people and leaves no trace of said vaporization (which even if we did vaporize a person there would still be evidence). And yet this would be no different to any other conventional warfare where bombs are being used, and people do not make the same claim that Russia bombing entire cities to rubble is conclusive evidence of genocide.

Even in the Shoah with the crematoria we have forensic evidence of human remains. In the same article they blame Israel for "empowering" looters to steal aid, without bothering to explain how that is done, by who, and shifting the responsibility from Hamas going in and stealing aid, to saying "oh well they are stealing it but that's Israel's fault."

It would be like saying it's the DEA's fault that drug cartels in Mexico are using machetes to behead people and smuggling drugs into the USA. The DEA is fighting against the cartels, and you're now shifting the responsibility of the cartel's behavior which they could stop at any time, to the the DEA for basically not fighting against them good enough?

They also make the claim that Israel intentionally targeted these refugee tents, but fail to mention that the reason why a fire broke out is because Hamas was storing weapons there (which would mean that the cause of the fire wasn't Israel's strike, it was Hamas storing weapons, and it would also mean that the strike was legal [I don't agree with the strike, that isn't what I meant by my prior word "valid," I just meant Legal] because storing weapons there removes the protection under the Geneva Convention).

So when I say we shouldn't say there is conclusive proof of genocide, this is what I am talking about. These things are not conclusive, they are circumstantial.

What we want to do is arrest all the people in charge, put them on trial, present every bit of data that we have, and then see whether or not it rises to the definition of genocide. Or even whether or not it's appropriate to expand the definition so that these things can be prosecuted not only in Israel's case but in every other case like Russia and China.

Then we will be able to say yes we have conclusive proof.

[kikyoupdates]

Bloodthirst ⭑˚💋⭑ 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜

bnha x vampire!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, my vampire!reader, slowburn

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

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All Might’s smile was blindingly bright. It didn’t falter, not even for a single moment. It was the sort of smile that made you feel completely at ease.  

You’d only just met him for the first time, but you were starting to understand where all of Izuku’s admiration came from. 

“I’m just glad the two of you are safe!” All Might beamed. “Is your friend going to be okay? He seems to have fainted from the shock.”

“Huh? Oh! Right!”

You’d been so in awe that you’d nearly forgotten that Izuku was still limp in your arms. Making sure to be gentle, you carefully patted his cheeks to try and bring him back to his senses. This was a huge deal, after all. His biggest inspiration was literally in front of him.  

Izuku’s brows reflexively scrunched together upon feeling your touch, then his eyelids lifted to reveal bleary green eyes. You could tell that his vision was fuzzy, partly from the disorientation but also the fact that he’d been choking just a few moments ago. Either way, it took him several seconds to actually take in the scene. 

But when he finally did, his reaction definitely wasn’t subtle.  

“ADSDGHIAFMNG—?!”

Instead of forming proper words, all he managed was a brief outcry of gibberish. You supposed you could understand where he was coming from. Not only had he been saved, but he’d been saved by the very man he idolized the most. 

All Might laughed with his entire chest. “Oh, good! I’m glad you seem so lively! In any case, I should really apologize! I got wrapped up in villain cleanup, and one of them managed to sneak away. I must have been off my game today. I’m not usually like this, I promise!”  

You weren’t really sure what he was talking about, because he’d obliterated that villain in no time flat. If that was him being off his game, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was like when he was at his very best.  

“Either way, thank you both for persisting so bravely until I got there. Thanks to your help, I was able to seal the villain away!”  

All Might then proudly lifted up a plastic bottle, and sure enough, the yucky slime dude appeared to be trapped inside of it. To think that your earlier efforts had proved completely fruitless, but a plastic bottle was somehow able to incapacitate him. This world truly was strange.

Izuku was safe though, and that was easily the most important part.  

Speaking of Izuku, he was currently frozen in place with his jaw hanging open. He was clearly overwhelmed with emotion and could hardly think straight. That being said, there was no mistaking the excitement and joy on his face. And to think that just a few minutes ago, he’d been so dejected thanks to Katsuki’s douchebaggery. All Might had lifted the boy’s spirits without even breaking a sweat.

“Izuku,” you prodded, lightly tapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, try talking to him. Don’t you have anything you want to say now you’ve finally met?”

“I, uh... I-I'm...”  

Okay. Still no coherent words. He was even more starstruck than you’d been expecting, so you glanced towards the notebook he’d been carrying earlier—which had fallen to the ground when he’d been attacked—and eagerly held it out towards All Might. 

“Can he have your autograph?” you asked hopefully. “He’s a big fan. No, your biggest fan, actually.”  

Thankfully, All Might seemed to be just as considerate as his image suggested. “Of course! I’m always happy to be able to speak to my supporters face-to-face. It means a lot, kiddo!”  

The hero signed the notebook in the blink of an eye, and you passed it back to Izuku, who just stared at it without even pausing to take a breath.  

“T-T-Thank you so much!” he finally managed to splutter, bowing his head over and over again. It was starting to border on excessive, actually. You worried he might end up giving himself whiplash. “I-I’ll treasure this for the rest of my life!” he exclaimed. “This will be my family heirloom!”  

How cute. 

His over-the-top mannerisms were as endearing as always. Your cheeks hurt from watching him and All Might interact. It had been an admittedly shitty day until now—being bullied by Katsuki and then being attacked by some random villain—so, you were really glad things were looking up for Izuku.

All Might flashed you both a thumbs-up. “Well, that’s that! I’m off to deliver this villain to the police now. Thanks again for all your support. When we meet next, I imagine it’ll probably be through a TV screen.”

You watched as Izuku’s smile dropped. “Eh? A-Already? You can’t stay... just a bit longer?”  

“I’m afraid not, boy. Pros are always in a battle against not only villains, but time itself. If I stand still for too long, some other people might get hurt the way you did. I can’t risk not making it in time to save them.”  

All Might was already walking away, the slime-filled plastic bottle stuffed into the pockets of his pants. You had to admit that you felt a little let down yourself. Naturally, you understood that time was of the essence, but there was no doubt that Izuku was his biggest supporter.  

Was a few more minutes really too much to ask?  

Izuku’s eyes were wide with panic. “Wait. I-I still have something I need to ask you...” 

His voice was faint, so you suspected that All Might hadn’t heard him. In fact, the hero was already preparing to leave you both in the dust. He was crouched down as if he was about to take off into the sky flying or something. Could All Might fly? You didn’t think so. He obviously had some form of super strength though, and given how destructive his punch from earlier had been, you didn’t doubt that he could probably clear the area in the blink of an eye.  

Izuku seemed to realize this too, because before All Might could jump away, he latched onto his leg and held on for dear life. If your reaction time hadn’t been as good as it was, you might’ve missed your opportunity to do the same and been left behind altogether.

You were both soaring through the sky now, dangerously at risk of dying if your grip slipped up. All Might was seriously no joke. With this much strength, he pretty much was flying. The pressure of the wind whipping across your face was daunting enough on its own, without envisioning yourself plummeting to certain death.  

“Holy shit!” All Might exclaimed. “You’re both insane! Are you trying to get yourselves killed?!”  

Izuku tried to speak—which was a mistake, because his mouth was flapping around like crazy from all the wind. Much like before, all that came out was gibberish. He also looked like he was close to fainting again. 

“Okay, okay! I get it, so for the time being, keep your mouth and eyes shut!”  

All Might mercifully landed on a rooftop nearby, which gave you and Izuku enough time to catch your breaths.  

“T-That was scary,” Izuku gasped, looking absolutely haggard.

You nodded furiously. “I thought I was going to pee myself!”  

“Then you shouldn’t have done something so foolish in the first place!” All Might fumed. You noticed that he was facing away from you now, opting to look out into the distance.

You couldn’t blame him for being angry. What you’d done had been super reckless, after all. You really hadn’t expected for someone as mild-mannered as Izuku to pull something like that out of nowhere. It just went to show how much All Might meant to him.  

“The two of you should go downstairs now,” All Might continued. “I seriously have no time to waste, and I’m not just making this up!”

Izuku tensed up. “W-Wait! I wanted to—”  

“No! I really can’t!”  

Even so, Izuku persisted. He clenched his fists, and with a shuddering inhale, mustered up what had apparently been on his mind this whole time.  

“Can someone who’s Quirkless become a hero? Can even a Quirkless person... be an amazing hero like you someday?”  

Ah. That’s what it was.  

You smiled sadly. Right. As driven and incredible as Izuku was, it was impossible not to have doubts when the entire world kept telling him he was at a disadvantage. You personally already considered Izuku to be a hero—he had all the qualities of one, after all. Kindness, bravery, self-sacrifice... if even he wasn’t a hero, then what was the point of such a term?  

But you realized he was asking the question in a more practical sense. Having the essence of a hero didn’t necessarily mean he would be able to fend off villains on his own, like with the slime guy from earlier. The only thing he was missing was a Quirk, and you were furious that the world had chosen to forsake him like this.

For just a moment, All Might glanced back over his shoulder. “You’re Quirkless?” you heard him mutter. Izuku hadn’t picked up on it, since his senses weren’t as sharp as yours, but you could tell that All Might was shocked by the boy’s confession.  

“I don’t have a Quirk, so I’m constantly being made fun of for it,” Izuku mumbled sadly. “I doubt it’s only because I’m Quirkless, but I’ve always thought saving people is the coolest thing ever. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”  

As much as you hated not to be paying full attention while Izuku was pouring his heart out, something felt off. Smoke was gradually surrounding All Might’s body. Actually, you’d thought this at the very start, but had been too caught up in things to pay it much attention—his blood smelled a lot different than what you’d expected from the Number One hero.  

It was... weak. Almost as if it was corrupted or diseased.  

“I want to know no fear and save people with a smile!” Izuku eagerly piled on. “I want to become a legendary hero, just like you—!”

The smoke dissipated, and you suddenly understood why his blood smelled off to you.  

In lieu of the hulking mass of a man you were used to was a figure that could only be described as skeletal. Calling him gaunt would still have been an understatement. He was wearing the same clothes as All Might had on earlier, but they hung loosely off his body, practically engulfing him.

And yet, the scent of his blood was unmistakable. This man was still All Might.  

“You shriveled up!” Izuku exclaimed, beyond horrified. “No, it’s—a-are you an imposter? What have you done with the real All Might?!” 

“I am the real All Might,” the man replied, and the second he opened his mouth, blood spewed out of it like a waterfall. It definitely didn’t smell palatable either. What in the fuck was going on?  

“B-But how?” Izuku gaped.  

“You know how some people will flex to try and make their muscles look bigger? It’s kind of the same situation.”  

“No way!” 

All Might let out a sigh and sat down. The version of him that you saw before you was a stark contrast to everything you’d known. Not just in the physical sense, but even his expression. His smile—or rather, lack thereof. It was a big enough of a shock just for you, who’d only been in this world for a limited period of time, so you could only imagine how Izuku was feeling.

“A smile that knows no fear, huh?” All Might chuckled bitterly. “This is why I was in such a hurry to leave. Shit. Well, I guess it can’t be helped. I have my own negligence to blame for this incident. Since both of you have seen my true form, I may as well come clean. But whatever you do, don’t post about this online or try to tell anyone.”  

He proceeded to lift up his shirt, revealing a gruesome wound that made Izuku recoil almost immediately. The sight of blood or injury generally didn’t faze you, but this one looked really, really bad. It was a miracle he was even alive, honestly.  

“This is an injury I got from a villain five years ago,” All Might explained. “As you can see, it’s left me worse for wear. My respiratory system is in shambles, and my stomach has pretty much been completely scooped out. I’ve wasted away from more surgeries and complications than I can even count. As a result, I’ve been reduced to a maximum of three hours of hero activities per day. Any longer than that, and I revert back to this form.”  

No wonder his blood smells so sickly. It’s incredible that he still pushes himself to save others, despite the horrible state his body is in. 

“The public doesn’t know about my condition,” All Might said gravely. “I’ll ask that you respect my wishes and keep this to yourselves. It’s important that I can maintain my image as the Symbol of Peace. A beacon who always saves people with a smile. Such a thing cannot be corrupted by the forces of evil. If word ever got out, villains would surely capitalize on the opportunity to try and take me down. The reason I smile and laugh is to distract myself from the pressure and terror that dwells within me. A pro must always put their life on the line. Given how incredibly dangerous this job is... I just can’t bring myself to tell you that you can do it without a Quirk.”  

Izuku’s expression crumbled. His face was pale as a sheet, and it even looked like he’d broken out into a cold sweat.  

The person he looked up to most in the world had just told him to give up on his dream.  

All Might stood up and offered him a sympathetic smile. “If you aspire to save people, there’s always the police force. Villain custody is often a thankless job, but it too is worthy of praise. There are other alternatives. It’s good to dream, but that being said... there at times when you must face reality.”  

With that last bleak remark, he left you both behind. He left Izuku, who was now gasping frantically and on the verge of a panic attack. 

He’d abandoned him, just like that. Without even giving it a second thought.  

You felt like crying, but you couldn’t afford to break down right now, not when Izuku needed you more than ever. Stupid All Might. You could sympathize with his situation, and you imagined it was incredibly difficult to work as the Number One hero, but that didn’t mean he should automatically dismiss anyone who didn’t fit into the status quo.  

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you hastened to say. “He doesn’t know that you’ve already saved me. That you’re already a hero. You trusted in me and gave me a chance. I’m sure anyone else would have thought I was crazy and just walked away. You even let me drink your blood, knowing that it would be painful and scary... he doesn’t know any of that.”  

Izuku’s face was still blank, but small tears glistened in his eyes. He sniffled, hurrying to wipe them away before they rolled down his cheeks.

“Thanks, [Name],” he just barely mumbled. “For trying to cheer me up, I mean. It’s okay. I’m... okay. I just thought... I don’t know. All this time, I kept on hoping. But now that All Might himself has told me it’s not possible, I guess I should stop kidding myself. To some extent, I knew I was chasing an impossible dream. I have to face reality, like everyone keeps on telling me.”  

You didn’t know what else to say. He’d already more than proven himself to you, but it wasn’t as if you didn’t understand that some people were simply born stronger than others. Some things were dictated early on; things that couldn’t be changed, no matter how hard you tried.  

Goddammit. Why couldn’t they be changed?  

“Let’s just go home first,” you swallowed. “We’ll talk more about it then. Maybe you just need to take some time to clear your head. All Might seemed like he was really tired. He might have just been in a hurry to get rid of us. You said we were both going to try getting into U.A, right? Let’s start with that. We have to at least try.”

“It’s okay,” he said again. “Well, you should definitely try. I know you can get in. But I think it’s hopeless for me. All Might went to U.A as well, so I’m sure he already knows I just don’t have what it takes.”  

“Izuku...”

You felt fucking useless. He’d done so much for you, and you couldn’t even bring a smile to his face in a time like this.  

Realizing that continuing to pester him might just make things worse, a heavy silence fell upon the two of you as you walked home.

A silence that, as it turned out, didn’t last very long.  

Izuku’s eyes drifted towards the source of the commotion even before yours did. A large group of people had gathered and appeared to be chattering amongst themselves, crying out, and even cheering. You didn’t understand what was going on at first, but then you remembered that Izuku told you people tended to watch pro heroes while they fought villains. Whether that be out of curiosity or genuine concern, you couldn’t say for sure, but none of that even mattered right now.  

Because you recognized the villain they were fighting.

“It’s the slime dude!” you exclaimed. “What the... but I thought All Might trapped him? Wasn’t he on his way to the police station?”

Beside you, Izuku’s entire body had begun to shake. “I-It’s my fault. All because I jumped onto him and distracted him in the middle of his work. He must have dropped the villain by accident or something!”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. After all, the responsibility was All Might’s in the first place. But you didn’t have a chance to muster up any words of encouragement. You couldn’t, because something else had drawn your attention. Something even more concerning.  

It wasn’t just the villain that you recognized. You also recognized his victim.  

Katsuki. 

As much as you wanted to say that he deserved it, and while he was one hell of a piece of shit, punishment by death was certainly too severe. The slime villain had seized control of Katsuki’s body, just as he’d done with Izuku earlier. That meant that right this very moment, Katsuki was struggling to find opportunities to breathe and desperately fighting for his life. If he stopped resisting for even a split second, he was done for.

You hated to offer your help to Izuku’s bully, of all people, but what choice did you have? All Might had run out of time for the day, and it looked like the heroes on-site were struggling against the slime villain since their Quirks weren’t a good match for him. Katsuki couldn’t die here. You still needed to kick his ass. 

With the intention of rushing straight into danger and trying to buy Katsuki at least a little more time, you turned.  

Only to find that Izuku had already beat you to the punch. 

“You idiot!” other heroes called out after him. “Stop! Stop it!”  

Izuku didn’t stop, of course. In fact, the heroes soon had to scream at you as well, because you raced after him as quickly as your feet would allow. You weren’t entirely sure what Izuku’s plan was—hell, you weren’t even sure what your plan was—but none of that mattered. 

Someone needed help, and that was what you’d decided to do since coming to this world. Erase the mistakes of your past and become the type of person you could be proud of. The type of person that saved those in need.  

While running at full speed, Izuku took off his backpack and threw it right at the slime villain’s face. It worked as a momentary distraction and allowed you to get in close, after which you both began desperately clawing at the slime to try and free the boy trapped within.

“Deku and [Name], you shitheads!” Katsuki cried out, despite needing all the help he could get. As expected, his petty pride was getting the best of him, even at a time like this. But he could talk up a big game all he wanted. It wouldn’t change the fact that he was afraid, and you could see it all too clearly in his trembling crimson eyes.  

“I-I’m sorry!” Izuku spluttered frantically. “My legs moved on their own! I don’t know why either, but... your eyes looked like they were pleading for help!”

Those same eyes were now rolling back into Katsuki’s skull. Fuck. It looked like he’d reached his limit. It had probably gotten way too difficult to breathe. The fact that he’d endured it for this long was a testament to his incredible tenacity.  

“Both of you brats need to get out of my way!” the slime villain roared. An enlarged hand came crashing down against you, and you braced yourself, trying to fight back against the pressure so that Izuku wouldn’t get flung aside.  

If only I could actually bite him! Then this fight would be as good as over...!  

You wished you could do more. This truly was a terrible match-up for you, and Izuku was at risk of getting hurt again.  

But much like before, when it seemed like all hope had been lost, an unwavering symbol made itself known.  

“Good grief!” All Might gritted out. “I can’t believe I would go back on my own words from earlier. A pro hero always puts their life on the line!”

Within an instant, he’d grabbed hold of you, Izuku, and Katsuki with one arm, then used the other to deliver a devastating blow—one of his signature moves that Izuku had once gushed about, Detroit Smash. 

Once again, the slime scattered from the pressure, and the villain could no longer maintain the structure of his body. In fact, you were certain that this punch had been way more powerful than the one from earlier, on account of the rain that had begun to drizzle down. 

You looked up at the sky in disbelief, droplets splattering against your cheeks.  

He seriously altered the weather with a single punch. Holy crap... 

There was no doubt that All Might was incredible, but you hadn’t expected for him to fight again. Earlier, he said that there was a limit to how long he could maintain his muscular form. You supposed he’d pushed himself over the edge in order to save everyone. This would no doubt have lasting consequences on his already withered body.  

But that was all part of being a hero, it seemed. Constantly putting yourself in harm’s way for the sake of others.  

You didn’t even have a chance to thank All Might for saving your asses yet again, because he snuck away at the first opportunity. No doubt because he needed to revert back to his true form and couldn’t risk being spotted.  

After that, the heroes cleaned up the leftover slime and safely delivered all of it to the police. You and Izuku were also berated endlessly for your recklessness, although you were tempted to point out that they’d been surprisingly useless the whole time. If not for All Might, the villain would still be wreaking havoc right about now.

Well, I guess I can’t really judge. I wasn’t much help either. I hope I can slowly build up my strength in this world. Or at the very least, learn to fight in a way that I can handle more tedious opponents like this one.  

Conversely, Katsuki received nothing but praise. They all kept on fawning over him and going on and on about how tough he was. Plus, the villain had briefly seized control of his Quirk, so they’d gotten a chance to see some of his abilities firsthand as well. They were extremely impressed, much to your dismay.

It was strange, though. You thought he might revel in the opportunity to have his ego praised, since he was almost constantly bragging, but he didn’t look particularly happy about it. He actually looked really pissed off. He kept glancing over in yours and Izuku’s direction, brows furrowed and jaw impossibly clenched.  

For a guy whose life had just been saved, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more grateful, goddammit.  

It had been a long day, put simply. You were feeling emotionally drained, and a bit worse for wear physically as well. Hunger was starting to build up in the pits of your stomach, but you hated to ask Izuku for his blood when he’d already been put through hell today. You would just have to endure and wait for him to feel better another day.  

You were both awfully haggard as you headed for home, and of course, a certain asshole couldn’t help but make things worse.

“Deku!” Katsuki cried out. You turned, letting out a resigned sigh, only to find that he was clenching his fists and practically shaking from frustration. “I never asked to be saved,” he gritted out. “Least of all by you! In fact, you didn’t save me! You and [Name] didn’t do shit. I was perfectly fine on my own. I saved myself! I won’t let pieces of shit like you two look down on me. Fucking assholes!”

He turned around and stormed off without another word. You’d been too stunned to say anything in response to his ridiculous tirade. Were there any limits to his arrogance? Sure, technically you and Izuku didn’t save him all on your own, but you’d at the very least bought him a bit of time until All Might decided to act. There was no telling what might have happened to him if the hero intervened when it was already too late. 

“He’s so dumb,” you sighed tiredly, shaking your head.  

Izuku half-chuckled. “It’s fine. I didn’t run after him expecting to be thanked. And he’s right. It’s not like what I did had any effect... but I’m glad he’s alright, at least. Oh,” he realized. “I-I wasn’t trying to say that you didn’t help, though! You’re really strong, so I’m sure if it was a different kind of villain, you would have really shown him what for!”  

“I’m not that strong,” you admitted. “I both felt and was stronger in my previous world. This is just how things are, I guess. I’ll have to get used to it.”  

Izuku looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t quite get the chance.  

“Have no fear... for I am here!”

All Might appeared out of nowhere again, in his muscular form, to boot. Although it didn’t last long. He coughed up some blood and shriveled up almost immediately.

“A-All Might?” Izuku blinked. “What are you doing here?”  

The hero pursed his lips. “Well... I wanted to set the record straight. If you hadn’t been there back then, and if I hadn’t heard your story to begin with... I might have really gone back on my own words. I was at risk of turning into a complete hypocrite.”  

“That’s not true,” Izuku frowned, lowering his gaze. “It was all my fault to begin with. I’m the one that wouldn’t let you leave and interfered with your work. If I hadn’t gotten in your way, then the slime villain wouldn’t have escaped again. I’m a Quirkless nobody, and I spoke out of turn as if I knew any better...”

“That’s the whole point, though!” All Might insisted. “You were the first to act on the scene. Out of all the people there, you raced headfirst into danger, even knowing full well that you were Quirkless and outmatched in strength. Your bravery made me act! It looks like your friend rushed after you as well. Heroes are meant to inspire courage in others, after all. You may not have heard this, but most top heroes are linked by the following line. My body moved on its own before I could think! That’s what they all say. And you did the same thing!”

Tears began welling up in Izuku’s big green eyes. You could feel yourself getting emotional as well. What All Might was saying, it almost sounded like... 

“You can become a hero,” All Might finished, and by that point, Izuku had already crumpled to his knees, sobbing without abandon.  

A smile burst across your lips. You took back what you said about All Might being stupid earlier. He was finally seeing Izuku’s worth with his own eyes. This was right. This was the way things were supposed to be.

From the moment Izuku had saved you, there was never a doubt in your mind that he would go on to save countless others too.

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[wolfertinger]

I started to write a message the other day but idk if it accidentally sent or smthn so sorry if you got some unfinished gibberish. Anyway-

I also followed Salem during his puppychan era but unfollowed when he would cycle thru suibaiting. So, I'm only newly refreshed on this drama. The reason why I'm bothering to send in an ask is cus I'm a system and have some thoughts? Obviously these are from my perspective so they're not extensive.

About alters and Salem's explanations from a system perspective: he says an old host was responsible for his puppychan era and tends to generalize his own system. This isn't uncommon, honestly. Where a current host will say something like "I used to be puppychan" as a general statement to mean "we were responsible for the Twitter famous Puppychan stuff".

However, what makes our host and cohost raise a suspicious brow is the fact that Salem IS generalizing instead of encouraging the separation of Salem vs his old host. And I think that's where a lot of criticism is hingeing on? Because most peoples conclusions are: wouldn't someone WANT to be clear that they're no longer that person? And the fact that Salem does hold onto his Puppychan fame in a defensive way makes it seem like he's personally invested.... When, in an alter sense, it is like... Defending someone elses shitty behavior.

That being said! DID is a covert disorder. Depending on the environment the system is in, the alters might not have distinctive personality differences. This is meant to protect the system. It can be hard even for the system itself to identify shifts in who is fronting. Given the situation they describe, it's not hard to believe that Salem might have this issue.

Now that I've said that, there's a LOT of their behavior that sets us on edge. Idk we've inhabited the Internet long enough to see a lot of people do the whole "it was my alter that said that DEFINITELY not me". So I've got a lot of skeptism. It might just be a thing learned through experience and time but most systems I know exercise a general responsibility. If one member of the system does something shitty or has the urge to do something shitty, the system as a whole usually kicks in to say "hey maybe don't do that".

This, again, is a safety measure. If the system is in an environment where they can't show, idk greatly opposing personality traits, they usually mask or conform to what is expected. Manic behavior is usually wrangled (most times by persecutors) so that, outwardly, the system appears normal.

Clearly being online makes these manic reactions easier to release without the system filtering... It takes a lot of learned control to stop those impulses even without a disassociative disorder added into the mix.

Idk where I'm going with this. I think there's a lot going on here but this is my perspective as someone with DID. I mean, obviously this doesn't excuse the shit that individual alters have done and I'm definitely not saying it's as simple as blaming an alter for past mistakes and calling it good. Generally, we're confused by how they talk about their own alters lol

.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Hello again! I was chatting with someone and he said "someone should make writing style hcs for the mercs", and I instantly went "I know a guy" so now i'm here. How do you think the mercs would write? (note: he also said "Scout would write like Greg heffley" which is hilarious)

How Do the TF2 Mercs Write?

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I'm smiling like an idiot rn. This is so sweet, and the promt is very cool! (Your friend is 100% correct, btw.)

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I'm going to headcanon, whay they write about, how they write about those things, and some hand writing pictures of how I think they'd write! So be prepared for a long one 😭 Can you tell I'm an English nerd?

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Demo-

You'd think he'd have super messy handwriting, but he's actually a very neat writer. Has an ink and quill pen set, loves gold ink more than traditional black ink.

He writes about his mom and his childhood. He writes very vividly and with lots of detail. I feel like this man is a walking thesaurus.

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Engie-

He has very clean writing. I'm day to day life (he has the worst writing when working on his projects). Like he'll leave a note on the door saying that the gangs run out of milk and everyone's shocked. You'd think he'd have atrocious handwriting. Learned cursive in school and never really stopped using it.

When he's writing like this, he's normally sending letters to people he cares for or trying to order parts for his latest projects. He's very formal when he writes to anyone.

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Heavy-

Heavy is also blessed with very nice handwriting, but instead of the school system forcing him into writing better it was his mom.

He likes to write about animals and his friends. He keeps a small book by his bed to write little things he learns throughout the day. Not very descriptive, more along the lines of "I heard birds singing this morning, it was pretty." Or "Scout likes brownies more than ice cream." Normally, just mundane things. (Also, he writes mainly in english to improve his ability to understand English words but sometimes defaults to Russian if he can't remember or spell a word properly.)

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Medic-

Ugh. This man writes like a doctor nine times put of ten just to fuck with people. He'll give someone a note, and it just has gibberish on it. He likes to watch them try and decipher it. But when he's not being a menace to society. He has genuinely beautiful handwriting. While it can be overly fancy, sometimes it's also easy to read.

He has two journals, he has a leather-bound one where he writes about Germany, his experiences of leaving his country, when he had his medical license, medical school, etc. Loves to write about the past. He uses that journal as a therapist. And then, of course, he has his neon pink Claire's notebook that he uses to write down every single thing that could be used against someone he's ever heard, with matching glitter pens.

When he writes, he never leaves any details out and is pretty clear and concise. He uses German and English interchangeably. Using English mainly out of habit.

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Scout-

While I do agree that this man probably writes like Greg Heffley (and honestly, his handwriting probably looks the same too.) I'd be wrong not to mention that he writes out little :), :0, >:), and other little faces on his notes, and have almost graffiti handwriting. He practiced writing to look like that, actually. He used to have decently nice handwriting, but he likes this one better.

He doesn't write much, but when he does, this man writes paragraphs about the most random things. All horribly spelled. This man can't read or write very well. Dyslexic king. He makes sure to get help with spelling, though, so he can write to his mom at least once a month.

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Sniper-

Oh, poor, poor man. Can not write clearly to save his life. Not that he's big on writing to begin with. There was never really any pressure for him to have good handwriting, and he mainly only writes to write himself reminders.

Very nondescript and straight to the point. But has a little quirk of using different dots (like • ○ ● □ ■ ☆) for his notes. He has a little dark brown book for all his reminders.

☆eat (is a common note left in the book). He also has written poetry, but he'd rather die than admit that.

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Spy-

Pretentious motherfucker handwriting and style. Could just be writing a reminder to wish someone a happy birthday and will go all out. It normally takes him 15 minutes to write a small note. He writes letters frequently, with no reason in particular. I think he just really likes writing. Uses big words but not in the same way Demo does. Like Demo will say, "The food was horrific." But Spy will say some shit like "the meal I partook in was horrifically distasteful and..." So on and so on.

I think he can also switch his handwriting at will. If he needs to pretend to have messy handwriting for some reason, he'll do it. Not without sheding a tear at how awful it looks first though.

Writes exclusively in French. One or two words in English every 10,000 words he writes.

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Soldier-

He likes using all capital letters when he writes! He feels like every word he writes is important. It also helps him remember things. I also don't think his vision is the best, so it's hard for him to see any other writing.

He doesn't write often, but he's always listing things, marking things that have changed, and writing down random questions that he'll spend the day trying to answer. Very observation based writing. You catch him writing and it's just a piece of computer paper with a list like,

THE CEREAL WAS MOVED

I SAW A BIRD

WHY DO BIRDS FLY INTO GLASS

ARE BIRDS OKAY AFTER FLYING INTO GLASS.

Very simple writer.

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Pyro-

Scarily neat and beautiful writing. Somehow, they can write like this no matter what situation they're in. I definitely think they just rewrite things they overhear, facts that they like, good memories they remember, and just odd things. Has multiple quotes written down from books they've read. They write with glitterpens, too. They have a bunch of construction paper they use to write on.

They don't really write much for necessity. They only really write to make themselves happy. Can be simple or descriptive depending on what their remembering.

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AH! I HAD SO MUCH FUN DOING THIS ONE! Thanks again for the ask! I hope your friend likes the answers :D

[georgiapeach30513]

Inside Her Fantasy, Part 3

Summary: Ransom just wants to show you off

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

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Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

Ransom watches Charlie run around the backyard. Her little legs look like a blur as she flails her arms around, letting out a yell of gibberish. She’s so tiny with such a huge personality, and a bit excited about her visitor that is only coming to see her and Maeve, so she says. He sighs, taking a look at his watch before he’s looking back at the tiny girl.

“What cha waiting on, Ranny?” Bucky teases, but Ransom swats a hand on his arm. “You got it bad. The sex that good?”

“No,” he answers flatly, still watching Charlie. Sex just hadn’t happened, and he didn’t even feel like he needed it. Just you. Eventually it will happen.

“You’re hoping it’ll get better?” Ransom looks towards his best friend and teammate, narrowing his eyes as he shakes his head no. “I’m not sure I follow here, brother.”

“She doesn’t have sex unless she knows it’s love,” Bucky’s mouth falls agape, but his wife playfully smacks his head before placing Nixon in his lap. “What?”

“Ran, I think that’s sweet. At least you know — well, you know,” Ransom’s brows furrows as he looks at the woman confused. “I mean that she’s not just jumping into this. She likes you, and you like her. And you know where you both stand, and you’re not letting anything physical get in between the two of you, and you’re not already bored with her,” Ransom doesn’t want anyone thinking less of you. He’s seen the media. He knows you’ve had various boyfriends, and he knows what everyone thinks. Clearly it’s not what he knows.

“She’s exciting though. I don’t like that her tour is taking her away from me, but it’s almost finished,” he looks back towards the little girl who had lost none of her energy. Opening and closing his mouth while he wonders if he should think out loud, or just vocalize what he’s thinking.

A whirlwind. That’s what the two of you have been. It had been somewhat difficult to keep the budding romance secret, but your team did everything possible for you to spend actual time together. And if you were overseas, it has to be FaceTime. Interference with his season was keeping him from going to you, but he would, as soon as the season was finished.

“I’ve never put this much time in a relationship, and I’ve never been more scared to take something public, while also wanting to protect whatever this is,” Bucky’s wife tilts her head to the side, placing a hand on her husband’s thigh. “I wanna show her off, but our time right now is special. It’s ours.”

“Your such a typical man.”

“Hey!” Bucky protests,

“It’s not a bad thing. Ransom is just feeling some type of way because he can’t let everyone see how happy he is, and who is making him happy. Ran, have you been listening to the game commentary? They know you’re happy. You’re playing better now than you ever have, and the Pats are set to win…”

“AHHH!” Both men scream, putting their hands over their ears. Giggling, Nixon joins in, and even Charlie stops running around to copy everyone’s movement. She had almost said win the Super Bowl, and it’s something neither men liked to say out loud. “It’s bad luck to say that, babe!”

“You two and your superstitions.”

“Shh! Mama, do you hear that?” The adults all freeze, but Ransom jumps up quickly. Jogging towards the gate because he knows that sound. That sound means you. “Daddy, can I say it?” He nods, and Charlie starts chuckling. Covering her hand with her mouth, trying to peak through the gate to see Ransom pick you up, and spin you around. “Yep, he’s got it so bad. Can she have a slumber party again? Can she sleep in my bed again? But instead of Ranny can I sleep in there? Can…”

“Charlie, shh, she really needs to try sleeping in a bed that isn’t a twin size princess bed,” her mother whispers, giving a look back to you and Ransom sweetly kissing before she’s watching her giggly daughter. Hoping Charlie doesn’t watch too long when you and Ransom deepen the kiss.

“He really likes her, mama. Look it, they’re still kissing,” she gives a point over to the two of you, and has to look away quickly.

“Charlotte Barnes, would you stop,” Bucky snickers, shaking his head at Nixon, but Charlie couldn’t be contained. Dropping her whole body on the ground in a fit of laughter. “You two, no. Now Nixie is gone, too. You three are rude. It’s sweet.”

“Daddy, sing that K.I.S.S.I.N.G song again!”

“Don’t you dare, Bucky! Charlie, you keep it up, and Ransom isn’t going to bring her over here anymore,” Charlie sits up a bit. Trying to contain her laughter as much as her little body can, but then she looks to see you jumping in Ransom’s arms. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, continuing the kissing.

“Can they breathe?” Bucky’s head falls back, and he howls in laughter, and the little girl’s chuckles begin again. It’s like a cycle between her and her dad. She just says what Bucky won’t.

“You’re ridiculous. I’m surprised you haven’t brought Maeve out of her hole with this incessant — hey, guys,” you bite your kiss swollen lips, and place your other hand on Ransom’s arm. Fully sinking into him. You didn’t think about the Barnes’ already being out here, and judging by the laughter they saw you and Ransom in just a tiny makeout session. You missed him, and missed his lips.

“Hey, it’s okay. Charlie’s used to seeing people kissing, huh, sister?” Her mom gives you a reassuring smile. Her and Bucky have been together forever, of course she saw them kissing.

“Not like that. Daddy, do you think some football man is going to pick me up and squeeze my butt like that?” Oh my god! Your cheeks fire up in embarrassment and you hide your face completely in Ransom’s arm. His meaty hand presses against your temple in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks, but you feel the rumble of a laugh in his chest. “You do know what a butt is for, right, Ranny?”

“Yes, Charlie, I know that butts are for pooping.”

Bucky clears his throat, as he stands up, saying your name with a friendly nod, “Someone else is very excited to see you again, aren’t ya, Nixie boy?”

“How did,” you never know how to approach the subject of Nixon’s legs. Strong little baby with no movement from his knees down. You could see the pain in Bucky and Sarge’s eyes over their littlest love not being able to walk yet. “I mean it’s not my business, but I — I’ve been thinking about him. And,” Ransom gives the hand he’s holding a slight squeeze, and you stop speaking. Waiting on his parents to clue you in on his latest surgery.

“He still doesn’t seem to have feeling in those legs, huh, Nixie. But he will. We’re going to see him running around like Charlie one day soon. You can hold him again,” just like last time, his nose scrunches up into the sweetest little smile until you reach forward, and pull him out of Bucky’s arms, and into your own. “There, now the men can…”

“Start up the grill, Bucky Barnes. Don’t stand there acting you think the women are going to do the work. I know our babies are hungry, and I’m sure you are, too. Where did you travel from?” Leave it to Sarge to make sure the men aren’t sitting around ‘watching’ the children while you and her cook.

“The last stop was Italy. I’ve got a few days off.”

“And she chose to spend it with us. We’ll play with the kids, you two men can cook,” she wiggles a finger towards you, and you follow her over to the furniture. Slyly looking back at Ransom with a smile. They didn’t treat you like anything but human here. The girls even felt more comfortable around you. “Bucky also makes a delicious margarita. Drink as many as you like, and we’ll make sure you and Ransom get home.”

“Oh, um — well,” you didn’t fully trust yourself alone with Ransom. At least with a pink canopy above your head you could let the hormones rage, and still want to talk with him all night long.

“Charlie’s princess bed still has your name on it. Just make sure you sneak in there after she’s snuck out, okay?” Nodding your head, you give Nixon a quick smooch to his chunky cheeks before you sit down with her, and you realize why she designed her backyard like this. Perfect view of the tall men, and of Charlie who dances around with her ribbon. Putting on a show for you, so you didn’t have to perform. Being with the Barnes just felt like that. No performance. Just you.

There’s something peaceful about this family. They’re normal, but completely get the public persona. They keep things simple, despite their mansion. They give their kids a beautiful life, without spoiling them too much. They love hard, and play harder. The simplicity of being here versus in a city or even on a tour bus is the most comforting thing, and you find yourself snuggling closer into Ransom.

Your legs drape over him as you listen to him and Bucky animatedly talk about the last game or practice. You didn’t even care what they were talking about as long as you could hear his voice, and feel his breath. Your hand rubs over his belly, and you wonder why you couldn’t have found him sooner. Of all the men you’ve dated, none were such a man like Ransom. He is bigger than any of your previous boyfriends. Taller, wider, all man.

Ransom is also successful in his own field. You didn’t feel you were competing with his fame. And he isn’t toxic enough to blame you for his problems or lack of recognition. And this little family — you want to be a part of it so much. Bucky just lets Charlie’s sleeping form squish up against him while he talks, while Sarge cuddles up so close to her little baby. The only person you hadn’t seen the whole day was Maeve.

But right now you hear her. Off in the distance, strumming a guitar, and the softest sweetest singing voice. A voice so tender you crave more. You look up at Ransom, and he offers a smile, but it’s Sarge that uses her head to motion where Maeve is. You hadn’t missed the treehouse on your first visit, but you’d assumed it was Charlie’s. She nods to you, and you get up from Ransom.

Your bare feet carry you softly up a treehouse you wish you had as a child. There isn’t even a ladder, but stairs instead. Her voice gets a bit louder, but there’s an edge of timidness to it. This girl has nothing to be shy about. People would sell their soul to get that soft of a voice.

Peeking your head through the door, you hear her growl in frustration, and lean over to scratch out a few lines before she’s back to strumming her guitar. Memories of you in a studio, even younger than her, doing what you loved, and now wishing you had a normal childhood. Wishing your dad wouldn’t have pushed so hard for you to be the star you are. But then, where would you be? It’s easy to take away moments of your life, but it opens up endless possibilities for your current present life.

You step on a wrong board, and Maeve turns around to look at you, her eyes getting wider before she looks back at her notebook, and sneaks it under her leg. “That board always creaks,” she answers plainly, starting to lay her guitar down.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.”

“I can’t compare to you.”

“The only competition you should have is with yourself. We’re all different. Different lives, different experiences. Those experiences give us our stories. And you take your stories and write?” She shrugs, and her fingers tap on her guitar a moment. “It’s a pretty place you’ve got here.”

“The house was dad’s first big purchase. He’d secured a great contract, and they finally felt comfortable buying the house. Mom was so scared of going back to where we were and in an apartment with Ransom,” you sit down across from her on another beanbag, ready to hear whatever story she wanted to tell you. Charlie never had to see her parents struggle, but Maeve was a part of it.

“I wanted a treehouse so bad, and mom told me to just wait, and we’d get some extra money. Ran, picked me up from school one day, and took me to this place, and he let me design it. Told me I could work it off in songs.”

“You’ve always liked singing?” She shrugs again, but picks up her guitar. Her fingers glide over the strings, and you can tell she tries not to look you in the eye much.

“I liked writing more. Most of the songs are different versions of lyrics to yours.”

“Like a parody?”

She shakes her head no giggling. Strumming a few chords when she looks up at you, “I simplified them for a kid. You would sing about love, I’d sing about playing in the dirt, or begging my dad to buy me a guitar. The melody had the same rhythm. And no, I don’t remember them. I’m sure they have videos of me. It was just us and Ransom for years. Him and dad were unstoppable in the game. Mom became more secure with our finances, and she wanted a baby. And it never happened. They tried, and they cried, and then that hellcat of my sister was born. I was able to bond with her because I could care for her. I’d sneak into her room and sleep on her floor, until she was the one sneaking in my room.”

“It’s a good thing, I guess. Where would Ransom sleep?”

She chuckles, finally meeting your eyes. “He used to sleep on our couch when we lived in an apartment. His chest was where I slept. Everyone took turns raising me, until Mimi stepped in,” you quirk up an eyebrow, wondering who this woman was. “Ransom’s mom. Dad’s parents helped when they could. Mom’s family wanted her to get rid of me, and then kicked her out. Mimi wanted to help, but they wouldn’t let her, so she helped with her time. Pulled some strings and got dad and Ran to meet the right people. He’s very important to us.”

“I can tell. He’s very important to me, too.”

”I can tell,” the two of you sit in silence for a moment. Assessing the situation as much as possible before you point to the notebook under her leg. “I’m just working on something.”

“Can I hear it?”

“It won’t be as good as yours,” you hope this is just a thing with you, and that she didn’t lack that much confidence. Being a teenage girl is so hard.

“Do you believe the words you wrote?” This time she doesn’t shrug, but nods her head. “Then it’s perfect,” deeply sighing she strums her guitar and her soft shy voice sings out a simple but truthful song about some stupid boy. No longer singing about dirt but about emotions and pain. Stopping abruptly in the song before growling again.

“I’m stuck right there. I just can’t get that part right,” you hum a moment. Had memorized the melody that she was playing before her mouth drops open, “You already know it?”

“Not really. But you had a good flow. I liked the bit of a breakdown. What if…”

“I got it!” She yips, going on to pick it up a few bars back, and adds in a cute little line before giggling, and scribbling it down. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t do anything, that was all you.”

“Hey, can you tell mom I’ll be down in about thirty minutes?” That is your cue to leave. You understand when you get in the moment, and need your space to let creativity strike fully. Taking your leave to walk down the stairs, and only Sarge is left putting away a few toys.

“Each man had a kid. Ransom took Nixon. It sounds really cute, but it’s just that he didn’t want to clean up this mess. Putting Nixon to bed is a lot easier than this. You want to grab that trash bag?” Responding with picking it up, you help her stuff the remaining garbage in there, and she chuckles. “I always thought you would be a stuck up princess.”

“Oh, is that what you really thought I would be?” Oddly enough people thought a lot of things about you, but you mostly wanted to be left alone.

“It’s not a you thing. A lot of celebrities don’t look at the wives of football players as anything of importance. I’m okay staying in the background. And well, you — you don’t know how to.”

“Ransom’s teaching me,” she offers you a genuine smile before closing up the shed of toys. “Do you like me?”

“I like you just fine, sweetheart. You gotta understand when he brought you to meet my kids and he shows you’re in a relationship. It's more personal. I have nothing against you in the least bit. But my babies are my priority. Especially the girls. Nixie doesn’t know any better. They loved you as someone they would never meet, and now they really love you as their uncle Ran’s girlfriend. Now can I ask you a question?”

Sighing, you nod your head. She meant a lot to not only Ransom, but his mom. You had grown to have a lot of respect for her, especially knowing what she went through to get where she is. “Do you care about him? I mean really really care about him?”

“Yeah, I really really do.”

“Good. Because that man has been good to me, my husband, and my children. He’s a big brother to me. They’re more than just teammates. They’re life mates. I will never get rid of Ransom, and he’s never getting rid of us. So what is this?”

Looking up at the sky, you try and think of the right words. Choosing to shrug your shoulders when you look back at her, “I don’t know. I like it. I like it so much, and I’ve never felt so — so free. Today was amazing, and we didn’t do anything. There weren't the cars, there wasn't the glamor and the drinking. But it was the most at ease I’ve ever felt. And I just want to protect it.”

“That’s good. Now, can I offer you a piece of advice?” You nod your head, trying to ignore Ransom who had softly said your name out the back door. “Take your time in this way. The moment you two go public you know what’s going to happen. Secure your emotions and relationship before that happens. Make sure he’s ready for your level of fame. This woman you were today is not the persona on the stage.”

She is right. You want to protect whatever is happening between you and Ransom keep the two of you in this safe bubble. You aren’t sure if you want to share him with the world. Just show him off a bit. When you’re ready.

Ransom whistles as he looks around the tight little area. Leaning over behind your tech who is only slightly annoyed, so he pushes Ransom away from him. “Please, don’t ask me what any of these buttons are for. It’s complicated. Sit in that chair, sit on the couch, or…”

“Do I get to go in there with her?” You giggle as the tech turns around to glare at Ransom shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Do you sing?”

“No.”

“Are you offering any sounds for the track?”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Then stay on this side. I don’t need your breathing in the background. Alright, the boyfriend is here. Can we go again?” You want to sing and giggle inside with that word, and Ransom straightens up his posture. That word is getting thrown around a lot more in your inner circle, and you’re loving it. You wait for the ticks of the snare drum before you start singing, and Ransom moves closer to the tech, furrowing his brows, but you’re too into the song.

“Who wrote this?”

“Maybelle Browning.”

“No.”

“Yes. Saw the sheet this morning.”

“No, she didn’t. Maeve Barnes wrote this. Hey,” he walks closer, tapping on the glass, and the tech glares at him.

“She can’t hear you.”

“Stop the recording now!” You glance up at the two men when everything halts. Putting up your headphones, and Ransom says something to your tech before barging into the studio. “What are you doing?”

“Recording a song that Maeve wrote.”

“What? H-h-he said that Maybelle dipshit wrote it. What is going on?” You feel a bit guilty for not explaining the situation to Ransom, but you weren’t sure he would know it was Maeve’s song.

“Ran, Maybelle Browning. M.B. Maeve didn’t want her name on it, but she sent it to me with a recording and said she wrote it for me, but didn’t expect it on the album, but then I asked her if I could record it roughly, and send it to her for consideration. She’s getting full credit. She wants this. I wouldn’t…what — did you think I was stealing from her? I wouldn’t. I adore that little girl, and Ran — don’t be mad.”

“Sorry, I’m very protective of — she gets writing credit? And paid?”

“She’s a minor, so I want her parents present when we discuss that with the lawyers, but if she wants it on the album, I do. But I want her full approval. It’s amazing. Ask Todd. Ran, she is incredible. Did you really think I would do that?” He shakes his head no, pulling you into his body. “You promise?”

“That’s just my girl, and I think she’s the best and deserves the world, so I’ll make sure she gets it. It’s not you, it's this life. I know how brutal things can be.”

“You’re talking to a girl who has re-recorded all my past songs, so now I have ownership of the copyrights. I will make sure she gets the best contract, but I won’t be the only artist that will want her lyrics,” Ransom pulls you back, looking down at you, and you want to melt into him. “You promise you didn’t think I would do that? If I can help her achieve a goal, I want to.”

“No. I think you get taken advantage of enough. I have this need to protect everyone I love — and care about,” he softly slots his lips against yours, and you return the kiss. Snaking your arms up around his neck before he lifts you up off the ground. Wrapping your legs around his waist when the tech leaves.

He might not have said it directly, but he said something. It is enough, you’d been feeling the same things. But now you just don’t know how you can keep this all secret. You want to shout to the world that Ransom Drysdale is your man, and you don’t care about the past drama of exes. You care about his smile, and his scent, his thick fingers entwined into yours.

Your fingers weave through his slicked back hair when he pulls off your lips. “Come to a game,” you smile, shaking your head no. You need to know he’s ready. Privacy will be a thing of the past. “Please, come to a game.”

“Ran…”

“No, excuses. I need you at a game. I need our dates not to be at home, or in recording studios. I need to…”

“Claim me?”

“Something like that. Please, I’ll have a comfy little box. Bring a friend, bring whoever. Just watch me play on something that’s not a television.”

“So you want us to go public before you’ve ever seen me naked?” You wiggle your eyebrows, giving him the sweetest smile. You’ve already decided you want to go. There’s nothing more that you want to do besides see Ransom play.

“If you want me to see what you look like naked, I’ll gladly look. But I can’t stand us not being able to be together in public. I want us to be normal, and do normal couple things, and ride off in a car after the game. Just me and you, baby.”

“You know when you’re with me things will never be normal, right? People are going to dig into everything you’ve done. All your social media posts, all your past girlfriends, everything.”

“I know, buddy, but I don’t care. What I care about is you and me. Why are you smiling at me like that? Is that a yes?” You shake your head no, grinning from ear to ear. That name. He wouldn’t know, “What?”

“You called me buddy. That's what my parents have always called me. It’s just sweet.”

“Ehh, I don’t share nicknames, Bud,” he leans back in, giving you the sweetest kiss before resting his forehead against your own, “So what do you say?”

“I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

“Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You come to Rhode Island and meet my mom afterwards,” Ransom gulps loudly, but nods his head. “Hey, I’ve been on your turf, and met the Barnes’, so now it’s your turn. And if you could not get hurt during the game.”

“No promises. It’s football, Bud.”

If silence was a sound it would be now. Putting on a bright smile, you let your bodyguards lead you to the designated area. It takes seconds for people to realize it was you, but it feels like an eternity. A simple outfit, but the Patriots jacket you’re wearing is obvious.

Smiling as you talk to the bodyguard on the right, trying to ignore the questions of why you’re here. “Didn’t Drysdale do an interview saying he was going to give her a bracelet with his number on it at a show?”

“She’s just looking for her next victim to write about.”

“Does she even understand football?”

“She’s made comments about Drysdale, and how he was hot. She always gets what she wants.”

“She’s got an 81 on her bracelet! Oh my god!”

It’s all in the details. Of course you are going to wear something that is a nod to Ransom. They just couldn’t see the other details. Holding your head high as you’re led into the box. Taking a deep breath as you look at Ransom’s stage. Everyone else could make your relationship ugly, but you didn’t have to. You are Ransom Drysdale’s girlfriend, and you’re proud of him, so you deserve to be there just like everyone else. Let the press speculate and gossip. You are here to see your boyfriend.

Trying to ignore the cameras is proving difficult. It is part of your job to notice them. Wishing they would put the cameras on the field. On anything but you. You just want to eat chicken tenders, drink beer, and hang out with the Barnes’. Is that so hard?

It’s everyone else on the team that notices you first. Bucky taps on someone’s chest, pointing up at the box, and even a little wave. It creates a dominos effect with the other teammates. Pointing, and crowing about how Ransom was able to wrangle you.

The coach hits Ransom on the shoulder, turning around to point at the box, and his crystal blue eyes spot you. His mouth turns up into that boyish grin, and he mouths, “I can’t believe she’s here,” winking a bit towards you. His focus completely gone as he smiles at you.

Everyone else’s pointing and comments fade away, and you only see that gorgeously handsome man. Your number 81. Normally you have constant flowing of words in moments like these. Trying to think of how you could tell this story with lyrics, but with Ransom there’s just him and an undeniable invisible string between you.

Each year up until this moment it has gotten shorter. Wound tighter as the two of you are pulled together. Now that string has wrapped around both of your legs, tethering you to the other. Everything else disappears but that string and Ransom. Even when you aren’t with him you feel the tug of needing to be with him.

No wonder you had bad relationships that you wanted to work, but something pulled you away. It was this amazing tie that was bringing you to right now. Right here with Ransom. The world may be watching, but all you see is him.

“I see you, Bud,” he mouths, and you get an ever bigger smile on your face. It’s like this love story was written by divine powers. And written just for you and Ransom.

“I only see you, Ran.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @kcd15 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @magnificentsaladllama @lokislady82 @rogersbarber

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Three Words (Part 1)

Pairing:Thomas x female reader

Summary:When Thomas takes you home when you're drunk you tell him something you never would sober.

I just sat back and watched everyone laugh around the fire. If I'm being honest I tuned everyone out a while ago. There were still a lot of questions I was always thinking about. If I'm being honest the way everyone just moved on could be irritating at times.

Speaking of irritating I saw Y/N dancing around the fire. She laughed as she spun Aris around. She said something to him, and he nodded while clearly holding back his own laughter. I didn't care to think about it.

Then, I did. She walked over and sat directly next to me. I stared at her like she lost her mind. In fact, I think she might have. She was never fond of me to say the least so naturally I wasn't very fond of her.

"You never really look happy,"She spoke up, her voice slightly slurred. It was then that I understood the odd behavior, but I decided against saying anything about it. It just doesn't seem worth the trouble.

"You always look happy,"I shrugged, expecting gibberish to come out of her mouth. Instead, she just laughed again, something she did a lot.

"No. I'm just like really good at hiding my emotions. It's like super cool and bad. Nobody even knows what goes on in here,"She said, tapping her head. I just looked at her, not knowing how to react to that.

"You though, are good at hiding it. It's hard to tell, but you get all quiet. You do what you're doing now."

"What exactly am I doing?"I asked, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. She isn't in her right mind, but this was just over the top.

"You're over here, and we,"She said, pointing at the fire, "are over there,"She finished.

"Yeah. Maybe I just like being alone sometimes,"I shrugged.

"No. You look solum and all that. You my dear friend are hiding,"She said, patting my shoulder.

"Do you know who I am?"I asked slowly. No matter what it has to be pretty hard to forget you hate someone while talking to them.

"Mhm. You're Thomas. The one with the soft looking hair. I wanna touch it,"She slurred, actually running her fingers through my hair. In my mind I was just asking myself what was happening.

"Yep. I was right,"She commented, pulling her hand back.

"Are you an observer or something?"I questioned, as if she would be able to give me a proper answer.

"No. I just like seeing you. I'm surprised you haven't noticed that I'm always around you. You're smart,"She complimented.

I tried to actually think about what she just told me. Sure enough that did seem to happen, but I just assumed it was a coincidence. In fact, I think it's a good idea to keep assuming that.

"You're my favorite person,"She kept going. By now she was almost completely out of it.

"You should get to bed,"I suggested. She shakily stood up, nearly falling asleep as she did. Luckily, I managed to catch her.

"Come on. You should get some sleep,"I said, placing her arm over my shoulder. She leaned against me, seeming completely fine with this. I know I've been through a lot of weird things, but this was a whole other level.

"Do you ever think about how the world sucks?"She asked, still leaning against me.

"Yeah. All the time,"I answered honestly. It's not like she would remember in the morning.

"You don't suck though. No matter what I say you're great, Thomas."

By now her words were almost incoherent. I just nodded as I helped her in her hut.

"You should stay the night,"She suggested.

"No. That's a bad idea,"I responded, helping her to her bed.

"Why?"She asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"Because,"I trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say. "Just trust me. If you were sober you would thank me,"I promised. She shook her head no.

"Out loud I would. Not really though,"She protested, grabbing my hand as I was next to her.

"Okay,"I said because what else could I say? What was even happening?

"I'd still be sad on the inside. I'd still wonder why I don't just say I love you. It's just three words,"She shrugged, her eyes seeming to clear over for a second. There was a dead silence as I kept trying to figure out what to do. The answer was obvious, right? I just leave.

So why am I still here?

"I really want you to get some sleep. You're just going to feel worse if you don't,"I settled on, helping her under the covers.

"Wait, Thomas,"She said, grabbing my wrist.

"Do you need something?"I asked hesitantly.

She didn't say anything as she just stared at me, her grip surprisingly strong. Then, she pulled herself up and placed a kiss on my lips. I froze before the reality of what was going on kicked in. I pulled away.

"Why'd you pull back?"She asked, seeming genuinely disappointed.

"You are extremely drunk right now. You don't know what you're doing,"I explained, gently tucking her back in.

At least, I could try. All I had to do was pretend I didn't wonder what her lips felt like on mine when she knew what she was doing.

"Oh. If that's what you think,"She mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut. I just stood there and watched her breathing become steady. She was finally asleep, and I could finally do the same and push all that out of my mind.

[hedgiwithapen]

Jaime coming to terms with the fact he has an alien WMD in his spine and the fact he likes Khaji Da when others do not.

(vague movie spoilers here!) Jaime ducked over his textbook again, highlighter in hand. In the study corral beside him, his notebook was a mess of notes. To any of his classmates, it would be gibberish, which Khaji Da claimed was Ideal. 

"I don't think I need to worry about my grades being ruined by someone understanding my notes," he said to Khaji Da in a low voice, highlighting a section of Latin that Khaji Da helpfully provided translations for. 

"You should be more careful, Jaime Reyes," Khaji retorted, bringing up another option for cyphers. Jaime ignored the suggestion. "It's first year, they're all too busy studying to plot against me," he said, scanning the page again. It was nice to have a scholarship that covered everything, even textbooks, so he could buy them--new, even--instead of renting.  It was even worth his Abuela's singing anytime Jenny's name came up.  Acting like this was a telenovela, instead of like it was money for his father's life, made it easier on everyone. 

"Danger," Khaji's alert voice broke through Jaime's concentration.

"Where?" he hissed, wondering if he could make it to the library stacks before suiting up. He hadn't been totally unaware, but Khaji Da's senses were a lot better than his own. 

"Three cubbies down. Brian is posting on his blog."

"Khaji, that's not an emergency. Stop spying on people," Jaime whispered. "Seriously, you can't just hack the library's wifi and, what, see what everyone is looking at? All the time?"

"Of course I can. It's easy." Khaji Da said. "And I don't look at everything. I do not enjoy looking at the porn. Brian is complaining about us."

"Khaji Da, we're going to have a talk about priv--what?"

"He is complaining about Blue Beetle. You. And Me. As if it was our fault about that building yesterday." Khaji Da paused, clearly reading something else. "I can show him a threat to humanity--"

"No," Jaime said, slightly too loudly. The student librarian at the circ desk glanced his way, trying to arch an eyebrow and not particularly succeeding. "Not in the library, Khaji. I mean, not at all. You have to let it go."

"He should not insult you. You are a good hero. I am going to give him a virus."

"Please don't," Jaime said, knowing it was probably too late.

"Too late," Khaji Da confirmed. "You are disappointed."

"Some," Jaime admitted. "Look, you can't just... react like that. Some people won't like us.  That's their problem."

"Yes, it is their problem. Now Brian has no laptop. That is a problem for him."

"That's not what I meant. We can't just attack anyone who doesn't like us."

"I did not! You were very clear that there were to be No Plasma Weapons In The Library. It is rule 47.  I will add a subsection about computer viruses. "

"Thanks. I think," Jaime said, looking back at his notes.

"You left out part of the definition."

"I used shorthand. and your code thingy. I got it. Don't worry."

[haechanhues]

chapter fifteen : na jaemin

S I D E : A

word count : 1k

It had been another lonely night in your single bedroom apartment, you were studying at your desk with the lamp on, revising and highlighting to your heart's content. If you didn’t have friends, at least you had your education going for you. 

You don’t know what god possessed you when you craved for hot chocolate that grey 3am morning, but you’re glad for it. You were cuddled up in your dressing gown and your empty flask ready to dive into the better than gold hot chocolate the hall had been practically promoting for the whole year. 

You expected to be alone, but instead you met Na Jaemin. A handsome laid back figure with candy pink hair and a cup in hand. Your tired eyes met his before your own grew in alarm - suddenly feeling embarrassed for your outfit and your appearance. But the boy just smiled, his tired eyes staring back at you with a mug in hand, “You too?” 

Your lips smacked together in an attempt to pull in your cool, social interaction so far being so minimal you’ve clearly forgotten how to form words, “Yeah.” 

“The machine is out of hot chocolate- it’s basically just hot water now,” He added, “So unless that’s what you were aiming for… you’re going to have to do it the old fashioned way.” 

“Oh.” 

He smiled as he placed spoonfuls of hot chocolate into his mug and with so much focus in his eye (and evidently in other areas of the face - if the tongue poking out of his mouth wasn’t much of a hint) he raised the jug and milk to meet the contents inside. 

With silent judgement, you placed a steady hand on the cup to which he smiled at you, and when the level of his perfection was finally in sight did he put down both the jug and milk and smiled at you, “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” You said sweetly, navigating a path in which he can make his exit smoothly without spilling on the ground or you. 

He narrowed his eyes next, “You were judging me the whole time.” 

Fuck. 

Just what you needed, a fricken argument to finish off the night. 

“Ahh-” 

“Alright, tell me how to make your hot chocolate, it seems like a prize,” Jaemin challenged, waving his hand back to his station. With uneasy eyes, you take your mug and fill it with spoonfuls of hot chocolate, the amount nearly mirroring his. 

With his silence, you felt brave. You met his eyes, raised your eyebrows before you tipped the milk in dramatically, his eyes widened as you added no hot water. Mouth opened in an attempt to form words, but only managed a few gibberish blubbers, “Whe- But- What?”

You opened the microwave, ignored the bewildered boy in front of you (and ignored the fact that you liked his bewilderment and his attention) and placed it into the microwave before setting the timer. 

1 minute and 30 seconds. 

Perfect. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

He goes to open his mouth, only to close it again. 

“No judgments, not until after it's done, please,” You teased before focusing on the microwave door, hoping to god he doesn’t pick up on how shy he’s making you. His face screwed up dramatically and his arms went straight up in the air. 

“I haven’t seen you around.” 

“Ah- yeah… I don’t really- get out much,” You mumbled, avoiding his eyes. 

“Neither,” Jaemin commented, “If you want though I’m always out here at like four in the morning. You could always join me.” 

“That can’t be healthy,” You raised an eyebrow. 

Jaemin laughs, “It’s not. But we get good conversation out of it and we’re young. Everyone young deserves a non healthy sleep deprived run.” 

You laughed back, enjoying his comfort. The microwave beeps and you pull out your now creamy hot chocolate and begin to show it off. Jaemin’s lips pucker as he considers it. 

“Looks good.” 

“It is good.” 

“Humble.” 

You giggled and the second time that night, when you expected the conversation to awkwardly turn short and eventually find that the early getaway is needed, he switched the conversation around. 

You talked for hours. 

About anything and everything. You talked about racoons, your family, the intricacies of creamy hot chocolate (You didn’t want to talk about your love life, not when he had brought up his in nonchalance. No girlfriend. Talked to a few people here and there. Sometimes things came out of it.) 

You didn’t want to bring up anyone in your romantic past. Not Nakamoto Yuta, not Jung Sungchan and definitely not the boy you still send text messages to. 

So you talked about Yves, you talked about Doyoung and Seunghan. Jaemin seemed to like them, judging by the look in his eye. He brought up some of his friends, one of which you already knew. 

“Lee Haechan?” 

Jaemin laughed, “You know him?” 

“Yeah! We share a few classes together,” You added, abandoning the thought to mention you also shared a hallway and he lived right across from you. 

It seemed to be an unspoken rule book that you both drew up that late night. You didn’t talk about your romantic life and you did not exchange room numbers. Meeting was left up to chance. 

Stupid rule, in hindsight. But it was romantic and spontaneous enough to let the tackiness of it all go. 

Weeks upon weeks, you met with him. Same time, not every night but most nights. Mostly when you felt alone. Jaemin was your first proper friend. 

So much so when you saw Haechan one morning, clambering out of his door, you couldn’t help but smile. It felt like you already knew him, even when you barely said your greetings with him. 

He smiled when he saw you, “Hey.” 

He had eyeliner on today. 

“You look good,” You complimented to which he grinned. 

“So do you.” 

You beamed back, the social interaction getting to you more than a basic greeting should. 

“You got a name, neighbour?” Haechan jokes. 

“Y/N.” 

“Ahh-” Haechan nodded, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, “Be prepared to be stalked.” 

Odd. 

But funny. 

Comfortable - in a blatantly stalkerish type of way. 

“You too.” 

You wanted to punch yourself in the face. You too? All that practice with Jaemin and all the knowledge you have about the guy in front of you and you choose the words ‘you too?’ 

S I D E : B

THE SERIAL LOVER

in which a girl farewells every boy she’s ever loved (or at least had romantic feelings for) in order to prove that her feelings for one particular boy are very real and unwavering. 

chapter fifteen : na jaemin

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