#*DISTANT CRASHING AND SCREAMING IN THE BACKGROUND*

[blackkatdraws]

"GET IN LOSERS WE'RE GOING SHOPPING"

Narrators featured: (but both drawn by Vellichorom)

Arthur - @indigo-art / Thierry - @vellichorom

[truethes]

i love YOU mydeimos the true god of strife!!!!!!!!

[amoressb]

───── TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ just two best friends being oblivious to their love for each other ｡｡ bestfriend!riki x reader . fluff & wc. 1.0k ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki and you had been best friends since middle school. the type of best friends who communicated through facial expressions alone, who texted each other memes at three in the morning, and who had an entire language of inside jokes no one else could understand. you two bickered like an old married couple, stole food off each other’s plates without permission, and shared your wildest dreams without hesitation.

too bad you two were completely oblivious to the fact that you were in love with each other. so when riki surprised you with tickets to universal studios, you had tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking him over.

“you are officially my favorite person ever,” you declared, eyes sparkling. “i better be, these tickets were not cheap,” riki joked, though he looked pretty pleased with himself.

the moment you two stepped into the park, the chaos began. both running from ride to ride like little kids, shoving each other playfully as you two argued over what to do next. you screamed the loudest on roller coasters (riki swore you shattered his eardrum on jurassic world), while riki attempted to set a new personal record for how many butterbeer flavored treats a person could consume in one day.

“are you sure you should be eating another one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as riki took a huge bite of a butterbeer flavored churro.

riki waved you off, “please, my stomach is built for this.”

not even an hour later, he was groaning on a bench, his head in your lap as you laughed mercilessly at his misery.

“laugh it up,” he grumbled. “oh, i will,” you teased, poking his cheek. “this is what you get for underestimating butterbeer.”

by nightfall, you two finally made your way to super nintendo world. the moment you stepped in, both of you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. the neon lit mushroom kingdom surrounded you and riki, the familiar game music playing softly in the background.

“riki.” you grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement. “we’re in mario land!”

“i know,” riki grinned. “this is literally my childhood dream come true!”

“okay, we have to go on mario kart : bowsers challenge,” you said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“oh, absolutely,” riki agreed. “and i’m so ready to destroy you.”

“in your dreams, loser.”

as soon as you got into your karts, the competition began. you threw yourselves into the ride, dodging banana peels, throwing shells, and laughing way too hard when one of you got hit. by the time you two stumbled off, breathless and giddy, you and him were still arguing about who had won.

“i definitely won,” you declared.

“you literally lost at the finish line,” riki shot back. “just accept that i’m superior.”

“please yeah right—” you groaned and shoved his shoulder.

it was supposed to be playful, but riki, being the clumsy guy that he was, lost his balance. instinctively, he grabbed onto your wrist, but that just made you stumble too and suddenly—you two crashed into each other.

your faces were way too close.

neither of you moved. you could feel rikis breath against your lips and you were very aware of the fact that your hands were gripping his hoodie while his fingers were curled around your wrist.

everything around you—the neon lights, the distant game music, the sound of other people laughing—blurred into the background. the only thing that existed in that moment was him.

and then riki, looking dazed and definitely not thinking straight, mumbled, “if i kissed you right now, would that be really stupid or only kind of stupid?”

your brain short circuited. “wh—” you opened your mouth, but no words came out. “did you just—”

riki blinked, his own words catching up to him. his face immediately turned bright red. “i—i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered.

you stared at him, your heart pounding. the worst part? you didn’t hate the idea. in fact, it was like something clicked in your brain—all the teasing, all the lingering touches, all the everything suddenly made sense.

“oh my gosh,” you whispered. “what?” riki asked nervously.

“i’m in love with you.” the words slipped out before you could stop them and as soon as you said them, your eyes went wide. “oh no.”

“oh no?” riki repeated, staring at you. “why oh no?”

“because..” you groaned, covering your face. “because now i can’t pretend i don’t have feelings for you and now our friendship is going to be so weird, and i—”

“y/n.”

you peeked through your fingers. riki was staring at you, wide eyed, looking like you had just revealed the greatest secret in the universe and then…he grinned.

“you love me,” he repeated, and he sounded way too smug about it. you scowled, “shut up.”

“no, this is amazing,” riki said, his grin widening. “because guess what?”

“what.”

“i’m also in love with you.”

you blinked. “wait…what?”

“you heard me,” riki said, rocking back on his heels. “i love you. i have probably always loved you and if we weren’t in the middle of mario land, i would definitely be kissing you right now.” you gaped at him, “we’re in mario land, riki.”

“i know,” he smirked. “which is why i’m gonna kiss you right here and make it the most iconic confession in history.”

you barely had time to react before riki leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you—warm, soft, and so so long overdue. eventually you melted into him, your hands fisting his hoodie.

when you pulled apart, your face was on fire. “that was—”

“amazing?” riki grinned. “i was gonna say stupid, but sure.” riki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you totally lost mario kart, by the way.” you groaned, “you’re lucky i love you.”

“yeah you do” he smiled. you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile as you lean into his arms, head sort of resting on his shoulder/chest, his hand that was around your shoulder intertwined with your right hand.

and just like that, two oblivious idiots in love finally got their happy ending…at mario land, of all places.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz

[oathbips]

I'm Sleeping On The Couch Pt. 2 - Gun, DG

summary: how they'll react to you saying you'll sleep on the couch after an argument

part 1, part 2

content: angst to fluff, reader x gun/dg

author's note: this took longer than i expected so there's only 2 instead of 3. it was a lot harder writing these two especially james so i apologize if he feels too ooc

You can feel your nerve rising the more this argument was dragging out but you were trying your best to not let it show. The last thing you wanted was for him to see how much he was getting to you because in contrast to you, Gun was more nonchalant than ever right now. He’s sitting there, taking hits of his cigarette while wearing this unbothered expression as he stares at you with a look that’s silently asking if you were done with whatever this was that you wanted to make a big deal out of. Which just ends up angering you even more. 

“Gun. This is ridiculous.” 

“It sure is.” 

“No, I mean how you’re not listening to me.” 

“I heard you.” 

“You’re hearing me but you’re not listening!” You finally had enough. All the effort of not trying to let him get to you failed, and he actually got to you. It has always been like this. Every argument you both had always ended up with only you being riled up while Gun on the other hand stays unfazed. It makes you feel like you’re the crazy one, always yelling and screaming at him. He never yells back or even gets angry at you for snapping at him but you honestly wished sometimes he did because that way, it’ll show that he at least cares just a little bit. The constant nonchalance and monotone replies he returns hurts you. It feels like he never takes you seriously, that he never cares. 

In response to your outburst, Gun took the last remaining hit of his cigarette before huffing out the smoke — putting it out once he was done. He then discarded it in the ashtray before finally standing up, making his way towards you but you swiftly turned away. You wanted to quickly make an escape to the bathroom as you felt tears threatening to spill out of frustration. A sigh leaving your lips as you try to collect yourself and hold back the tears.

“Whatever. Let’s just go to sleep.” You stated before shutting the bathroom door behind you. 

It was now Gun who was in the bathroom doing his night routine while you’re in the shared bedroom, finishing the last remaining steps of yours. The fight flashed through your mind as you got on your side of the bed. You sneakily avoided him when you got out of the bathroom earlier, so he couldn’t see your red puffy eyes and stained tears from crying but no doubt he will notice them once he joins you in bed. You didn’t want him to see you like this but more than anything, you didn’t feel like sleeping next to him after everything that just happened. It seems so childish and you know it is but you simply can’t help getting up from where you laid, collecting your pillow, grabbing a small blanket from the closet, and making your way down to the couch in the living room. 

You laid there, twisting and turning trying to get comfortable while the distant sound of the sink running could be heard in the background. It took a good minute or two before you finally settled, getting comfortable. All the stress and tension earlier soon follows, crashing down on you and your body gives in to exhaustion. Half lidded eyes finally close as you drift into a slumber sleep. 

A sudden jolt shook you awake from your slumber. You tried stirring around, heavy eyelids fighting to open and see what’s going on. To your surprise, you soon realize your attempted stirrings are futile once it finally kicks in that your body is currently being lifted up in the air right now, held tightly by a pair of strong arms. All drowsiness finally subsides as your widened eyes finally lay on the person causing all of this. 

“G-Gun?!” You yelped, surprised.

“You’re awake? Go back to sleep.”

“What are you doing?” 

“What are you doing sleeping on the couch?” His question made you remember the fight you guys just had earlier, why you were sleeping on the couch in the first place. 

“Oh…”

“The bed is this way.” He said before you could even find an appropriate reply to his question.

“I know that.”

“Didn’t look like you did.” A pout formed on your face from that and you decided to just stay quiet the whole way to the bedroom. When you both finally arrived at the bed, he gently placed you down on your side before going back out to fetch your pillow. Coming back, he walked towards you and placed it under your head while you stared at him longingly. You really wanted to try once more to talk it out for once instead of getting brushed off like always. 

“…Can we please talk about it tomorrow? Seriously this time.” 

He paused at the question and the room fell silent for half a minute before he finally let out a sigh. “Fine. But go to sleep first.” He stated, then plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Gun.” 

“Goodnight.” He said when he finally made it to his side, laying down and pulling you towards him as he placed another kiss on your lips this time.

“I thought you said you wanted to start anew and leave your past behind you?” 

“I do.” 

“It doesn’t seem that way to me, James.” 

It’s been 30 minutes since you and your boyfriend have been going on about this. You were one of the few that knew the truth behind his identity and his life in the past. You knew that he has abandoned that old life and has been starting anew or so he said he was. Because looking at him right now, it looks like he is still very much involved in indulging his past life, and you hated it. It was dangerous and you’re not particularly proud of the choices he was making back then. When he told you before you both started dating that he wanted to forget his past, you were in full support of it. You would not have agreed to even be by his side like you are right now if that wasn’t the case. So, you’re having a hard time trying to understand why these days, you’ve been catching him in the act of meeting up with Eugune and even involving Daniel in whatever it is he’s trying to do involving his old past. You tried confronting him about this before but your attempted confrontation always ended in vain with him dodging and changing the subject. 

“It doesn’t involve you, so don’t worry about it. Just trying to clean up some mistakes in the past.”

“What mistakes are you talking about? You said you were done.”

“If I was actually done, I wouldn’t have to be doing all this would I, Y/n?” 

“Then what are the mistakes that you’re not done with, James? Why won’t you tell me?”

“I told you it doesn’t involve you so don’t worry about it.” 

You really didn’t have the energy anymore to keep continuing this argument after that statement. That’s what he always says and if you have to hear that sentence one more time, you really feel like you’ll lose it. Truth be told, it hurts you every time he would say that. You’re more than aware of how shady his past was, but if it was all behind him now, why can’t he trust you enough to tell you? 

“Okay, whatever. That’s fine. I’m going to bed now.” You stated, ending the argument there. It was no use trying to push an answer out of him when he has been avoiding it for months now. Today wasn’t going to be any different. 

From where James stood, he could see your defeated expression as you started to walk away from him. He felt a pang of guilt rising in him. Of course, he trusted you, more than anything if he were to be completely honest. It’s just he doesn’t want to involve you in his reckless past, especially this one. James told you he was a changed man and he meant it so he didn’t see the need to bring his old sins into your life. He’s about to follow you to apologize until he sees you walking out of the bedroom with your pillow and a blanket around your arms. He couldn’t help but widened his eyes in shock and confusion as to what you were planning to do. 

“What are you doing?”

“I think I’ll sleep out on the couch tonight.” You replied, deadpan. New waves of shock overtake James’ expression as he stares at you in disbelief. “...Seriously?” Was all he could ask in return. This issue was bothering you that much for you to do something so petty as sleeping on the couch instead of with him? He thought it was childish, he really did, but he felt more sad than anything that he had upset you this much. For the first time in his life, he finds himself scattering his brain to find anything he could say to reverse this. 

“Wait.” He managed. You looked at him in expectedly, waiting for him to continue on with what he has to say. You’ll be lying if you said you weren’t hoping for him to finally tell you what you’ve been wanting to hear, for him to finally open up to you. But a part of you knew better than to get your hopes up. Still, you patiently wait for him to elaborate himself as the silence continues to drag out. 

“... I’m sorry.” You stayed silent to that, expecting more than just a “I’m sorry”, but before you could speak up, he beat you to it, cutting you off.

“Just trust me. Please. Once this is all over, I’ll tell you everything you want to know but for now, just trust me. That’s all I’m asking.” 

You stood in silence, taking in what he just said. His statement held such a desperate plea and he looked more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him right now. You’re sad he’s not telling you more, but you can tell that this meant greatly to him and whatever he’s doing must have a bigger purpose than you can understand. You finally exhaled a sigh, accepting the situation you’re in.

“Okay. I trust you but please, be careful.”

“I will, you don’t have to worry.” 

A smile finally appears on his face before he pulls you close to him, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Still going to sleep on the couch now?” He said teasingly, resulting in you rolling your eyes. “And if I said I am?” 

“I can’t let that happen.” He countered and reached out to place his hands on your soft cheeks. He gently strokes them and then leans in to finally plant a deep kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless.

[earthsparked]

Four hummingbirds, who also had never met

Chapter 1/2 (You are here) | Chapter 2/2 | (Story on A03)

Don't step on the organic!

You're crouched under a giant table, shivering with reaction despite the soft blanket thrown around your shoulders. It smells slightly of what you think might be silver polish, but it's tight and warm. The pressure around you, holding you to earth, is a small kindness in the wake of what you've just been through.

Huge metal bodies come crashing through the door in a ballet of moving parts that is dizzying to watch. The red and white robot who'd plucked you away from the tangled wreckage is helping the three larger ones, who haul in your metal person-that-was-a-car who started this whole mess. You watch, frozen, edging further under the massive slab of a table when they come clattering toward you with their smoking, sparking, dripping burden. It's alarming how much this one, they'd called him Bluestreak, both does and doesn't look like a corpse despite First Aid's promises that he wasn't dead.

What are these people?

You'd been minding your own business, delivering pizzas to make a few extra bucks. You were on your last leg of the day, picking up an order to an address way out in the middle of nowhere. You'd had your tunes cranked up, singing along and thinking of making something non-pizza for dinner. You cursed and flinched when a very fancy car blew past you in the opposite direction, going at a lethal speed. Who in the absolute fuck -

You glance in your rearview mirror to track them for a beat. Only for you to slam on your brakes and fishtail when a god damn fighter jet descended like an angry dragon, chasing after the car and flying way lower than any air traffic control would ever allow.

For a heartstopping second you're sure you're about to die. The stack of Hawaiian and barbecue chicken pizzas in their keep-warm bag go flying, and there's one order you won't be getting a tip for delivering. You head whips back against the seat as you fight physics and death and the steering wheel. The jet blasts over you and past, there and gone like a hallucination, if not for the dirt and roadside trash that gets thrown up against your car from the force of its passing.

You only start breathing again when your car's come to a halt, half on the shoulder. Your music's turned from some nonsense in the background, to the full soundtrack of your heart pounding out of your chest and the roar of jet engines. It was going slow, you realize, because there wasn't a sonic boom.

But you have no time to ponder that or anything before there's a noise that's not a sonic boom, but also like nothing you've ever heard before. And then your car, the pizzas, your entire body, the ground, the world shakes like a giant hand has picked the earth up and dribbled it like a basketball.

You scream as there's a massive WHUMPF. All the windows and both windshields blow out in a shatter of safety glass, and the force of it all knocks your car forward and a few dozen feet off the road. The wheels tilt and you think for a sickening second you're going to roll, but then the car crashes back town on its tires. One of them pops, because of course it does.

You hear the sound of jet engines growing slowly more distant. You're shaking and bleeding from tiny bits of glass as you slowly open your door, nearly forgetting to put your car in park and turn the engine off. You all but crawl out and look for danger, for shelter, but all you see is a tangled pile of metal. Glinting silver turned to sootstained black, twisted wreckage splayed out across the road a few hundred meters behind you.

Oh, god.

The - the jet. It had been chasing whoever was in that car. It had fired a missile at it.

You crouch down by the rear tire of your car, not quite hiding. You can't make yourself walk over there, you can't. Your active imagination makes it possible to envision what you might find...but then the scene in your head switches to someone gasping out their last breath, while you wait here for them to die alone and afraid. You can't do that, either.

You force yourself across the distance. Dripping small drops of blood on the blacktop as you go, the adrenaline drowning out any real pain. It's the most hellish walk of your life. But you get there.

You're not sure what you're looking at. There's shrapnel everywhere. It doesn't even really resemble a car anymore, though you can see a shredded tire and broken glass. There's something pink all over the place. If you weren't already so shocked, you might have noticed the way it made a little current run through you when you stepped in a puddle of it. But you hardly notice.

Where would...the driver...? You're fighting down nausea now. You step closer. You start to think there's no way in all the hells that anyone could have survived that. Not and be in anything like one piece. But you call out anyway, tentatively, as if the jet might hear you and come back.

Hello? Can you hear me? You're not alone. I don't know how to help you...can you see me?

You slowly circle around the wreckage, feeling incredible heat baking off it. There's all sorts of weird smells, and you're scared to get too close in case it bursts into fire. Or, well, more fire. You've gone from thinking about survivors, to desperately hoping you don't find one, because what would even be left of them? A quick death, at least –

-llo? skrrzt ye-

A voice speaks up from the wreckage, or you think it's a voice. You inhale sharply and close the last remaining distance, wincing at the heat. Where are you in there? Can you - maybe stick your hand out, wave to me? Can you move at all?

Maybe then you can at least spot what part of the car they'd ended up in? Your eyes are wide, watching, expecting - hoping - dreading to see a hint of skin, a flash of bright or dark red. You jump back and let out a shocked screech when a huge hunk of the wreckage itself twitches toward you.

And then that marvelous pattern-recognition software that is the human brain does its thing, and the magic eye puzzle in front of you, abruptly comes into awful focus. It's a person. The whole thing's a person, a giant metal person. You'd call them a jaeger or a robot or something, but you can see their face. There are eyes there, blue, barely visible. And as you stare in horror, it twitches again, making you realize it's a hand reaching toward you. You had asked them to move. You stand in the road, bleeding, terrified, and start crying.

You don't know exactly how you know this is a person, but they look like one, they have a face, what's left of it. And they moved. And they tried to speak. Then they try to speak again, static lacing the words as they cut in and out.

-don't- bshhts -afrai-

You clasp a hand to your mouth. Now you're openly weeping.

You had always been afraid that you were alone. That this life, this world, these people were all that would ever be. You'd dreamed that there was more out there. Someone, anyone. Whatever it took so you weren't just one faceless insect in a hive of eight billion, drifting through space.

The day you find out you're not alone, is the day you become more alone than you could have imagined. You rush toward them, heedless of the heat, the sharp edges, the broken glass. You grab on to what might have been a hand, and you hold it tight. You get one single moment of the hot metal twitching under your palms, a precious glimpse when your eyes meet theirs. And then the light dims, and the limb you're holding is wrenched out of your grip as it falls heavily to the ground. You follow it to your knees, getting even more of that pink stuff all over you, and other fluids too. But the agony in your heart drowns it all out, as you sob and crumple over this person you'd just met. This person who died trying to tell you not to be afraid.

Maybe that's why, a few minutes later, when a caravan of emergency vehicles comes down the road at Mach Jesus, all lights and sirens, you hunch over your metal person as if you could protect them from the questions that were to come. The dissections, the desecration that would follow whenever the people in power got word of this being's existence.

You can hardly hear anything but for your own sobbing cries, but it's impossible to miss when the ground shakes and deep shadows fall over you. You can feel attention on you. You steel yourself and whip around, fists clenching, ready to do god only knows what.

Don't fucking TOUCH him! Go away! you shriek through your blurred vision, stumbling a few steps forward. Only to be caught, gently as a plucked dandelion seedhead, in a cage of giant metal-and-rubber hands. They steady you, and you look up into an echo of blue eyes. But these are bright and vivid, and the hands that hold you are strong, and the deep red paint that covers the being looks like they'd just stepped out of a spray tan booth for robots.

Oh, oh no, please don't be injured. There's such dread in their voice as they kneel by you that it catches you off-guard. I can fix Bluestreak, I can't fix an organic! And you're the first one I've ever met! Please, little guy...oh, no, no.

The other giant beings rush to the still wreckage and doing things to your metal person. One is big, stocky almost, and white and red. Kind of like the one steadying you, but not exactly. You push weakly at the enormous fingers that prod and press against you with a sort of worried care, gathering information about you from the touch.

I'm not. I'm not hurt! There was a jet, and it came out of nowhere, and it - it -

The tears return, and you're wrong that you're not hurt, because your heart's broken. You'll never be the same. The red and white being makes several alarmed noises, their face a startling picture of empathy.

I'm sorry. I tried to help, but they d-died, you hiccup. Are they your friend?

The being looks surprised, then confused, and by the time you have grasped that their facial expressions are similar enough to yours that you can read them effortlessly – they're smiling, and you can even read the nuance in it. You can see they're a little sad, but a little happy too.

His designation is Bluestreak, and he's not offlined. Not "dead," the being tells you, as if he had to find the right word to explain. His smile grows to something bright and beautiful as you choke on your tears and shake your head in disbelief, but feeling hope rise in your chest. You look over to where the other giant metal people are doing all sorts of weird things to your metal person.

He's not? But -

He will be if we don't burn rubber to get him back to base, one of the other metal people says, and it's short-tempered enough to make you cringe into the shelter of the one not-quite-holding you.

The grumpy one seems to notice, and those blue eyes land on you with the intensity of a pair of lasers. You get the feeling this one doesn't miss much. You're not sure you want to know what they - he? is seeing of you. You startle and squirm when they actually sweep you off your feet, effortlessly, as if you're an unruly kitten getting a vet exam.

Oh, Primus. Now you've gone and done it, 'Aid. You just had to go picking up strays, soft-spark. AND this one's damaged, of course. That red fluid's supposed to be on the inside of them...I'm pretty sure. The grouch is nevertheless gentle as he moves your limbs, glowering at the spatters of blood from the glass that cut you. He heaves what is clearly a disgruntled sigh. Well, you found 'em, you can take care of 'em. And YOU can explain to Optimus and Jazz. Take them and let's go before more of the natives show up.

Now you're trembling as the world flips wildly and you're unceremoniously handed over like a beanbag. The red and white nice one doesn't restrain you, just cups you to his chest. His expression turns worried again as you struggle to get your balance, and have to sit down or else fall down. Suddenly you're feeling awfully dizzy, and your head is throbbing. Aw, fuck. Whiplash. Maybe groucho there wasn't wrong after all.

...I might be hurt a little, you admit, and the metal person who's not your metal person, but is pretty nice even so, starts cooing over you like a mother dove with a single, slightly toasted chick.

Poor thing. We saw your vehicle. You were in that when Starscream...? Merciful Primus, how are you even alive? He seems to realize that's not terribly comforting, and gives himself a little jolt.

Ratchet's right, you're coming back to base with us. Don't worry, I just want to help. And you can see Bluestreak when we have him repaired. He's in stasis lock, which isn't good, but Ratchet's the best medic we have. He'll be all right.

He's taken to gently rolling the pad of his thumb over your shoulder and down your arm, and you're not quite sure if he even realizes it. Um. Do you- have a name, too?

Oh! Yes of course I do, it's –

FIRST AID! Get a haul on! the one called Ratchet bellows. And then you see the metal person change and shift, collapsing into a...oh, god, that's an ambulance. It's so stupid that you start laughing, only to almost immediately start crying again. This is all way, way too much.

Shh, no no, it's all right, don't cry, First Aid croons. Look, see? Trailbreaker and Hoist are ready to go with Bluestreak. We're going to go back to base, and I'll get you cleaned up. Whatever you need. Are you in pain? Where is it? How bad? Are you cold? Hot? Is your airway clear? There are so many things that can go wrong with organics! he nearly wails.

You pat him awkwardly, but you hope it's at least a little reassuring. It seems to snap First Aid out of his worry-cycle enough to carefully put you down and turn into another, different ambulance.

Can you get in on your own, or do I need to call one of the others back - oh, good, he says, relieved, as you tremblingly haul yourself up into his cab, correctly guessing the popped-open door was an invitation. He stops hesitating once you're in, a seatbelt sliding around you of its own accord, pressed right over your heart. You wonder if he can feel your heart juddering wildly. Probably? He seemed to have very good pressure sensors in his hands, at least.

Which only made things worse when you catch a glimpse of Bluestreak being hauled away. He must have been in so much agony. You wonder how they feel pain. If it's anything like the way you do.

We're going, all right? First Aid gently questions, though you're not sure what the hell else you could do. You're in no shape to drive, physically or emotionally, with your headache coming in something fierce now, and who knows if your car would even start. So you just hiccup and nod, as First Aid closes his own door and tears off. Lights and sirens going, but the sound is muffled in his cab.

I don't even have proper materials for securing you. I should have something bracing those cervical struts - bones of yours, he mutters. If you start feeling very ill or having a lot of pain, you speak up, little one, and I'll divert to get you to a human medic. No matter what Prowl or Ratchet say about it.

You drift a little, mentally, on the drive back to "base," whatever that was. Not asleep, but not quite in your body. You get the feeling First Aid notices, because he keeps up a soft, meaningless patter of talk, low and quiet. It's a while before something he's saying actually breaks through to your conscious mind.

Blue's going to be so glad to see you when he's back with us. He's been pestering Jazz and Prowl for ages to let him sneak out and play with the cute organics, but, well. They didn't want anyone in the general population to become aware of us. I suppose that turbofox is out of the metalmesh sack, now. Blue's going to just love you, really. You'll like him, too, I'm sure. He's a very nice mech...

Why- why are you hiding? The world turns to a bit clearer picture. Is it because of that jet? or is it because of us?

Bluestreak had told you not to be afraid. They were certainly self-aware to know, humans could be clannish and reactive. Prone to shooting first, shooting second, continuing to shoot and then picking up whatever pieces might remain. But you didn't like the idea of them having to hide.

First Aid makes a sigh-sound far less grumpy that the one Ratchet had made. That jet was Starscream, a Decepticon. They're on the other side of a war we're fighting. We're Autobots, from the planet Cybertron. And we came to Earth, some would say by accident. But maybe it was providence.

Even with your throbbing headache and slight nausea and dizziness, you manage to learn a lot about your new metal people in the half-hour it takes them to get back to base. Which, it turns out, is a crashed spaceship half sticking out of the side of a mountain. You're so tired by now that everything's a bit of a whirl.

Next thing you know, you're being set loose and swaddled in a warm cloth smelling of something like silver polish, being asked to wait just a minute while Aid helped get Bluestreak settled on the table. Don't step on the organic! he reminds them as they bring the badly injured metal person in for help.

You want to watch what they're doing to Bluestreak, as if you can help him be okay just by fact of not taking your eyes off him. But the many clomping feet feel incredibly threatening. Before you know it you're backed up against the struts of the table, huddled and shivering like a tiny purse dog with a chill. You start to wonder if something might actually be badly wrong with you.

As if they could read your thoughts, Ratchet, his hands already wrist-deep in Bluestreak's innards, and First Aid both peer under the table at you at the same moment.

Adrenaline crash. Too much of a survival hormone being dumped from their system all at once. Shock and a rattled processor, Teletraan says. Some fluid buildup, surface abrasions. Painful, bad, but not fatal. Usually. You get the feeling this Ratchet person is half expecting you to drop dead any second, despite his words.

Caught in a hellish place of jangled nerves and exhaustion, you can't help but flinch back even from First Aid's gentle hands when he reaches for you. You're in a strange place, surrounded by strange metal people, and YOUR metal person is currently undergoing like...five or six kinds of surgery. Most of which seemed to involve a lot of sparking wires, fluid spraying everywhere, and mechanical cursing in what must be their own language, as Ratchet goes back to his work.

Go on, get 'em cleaned up, 'Aid. You're not going to be any use here, distracted like that. Gruff, grumpy. But for the first time you sense a spark of something else when Ratchet says, I commed ahead and had the scouts grab some human-sized med kits from ...somewhere. They're over in exam room four. That one's got running hot H20, at least, even if half the ship's still a disaster area. They're homeothermic mammals, they won't like being cold or dirty. And Primus only knows what all that energon is doing to them.

You stare up at Ratchet, feeling him out. Reevaluating. Then you shrug off First Aid's hands to toddle, wobbly as a foal, to drape yourself across Ratchet's foot. He goes immediately still, looking back down under the table, blue eyes bright and surprised.

Thank you, Ratchet, you tell him. You hug him until you're scooped up again, blanket and all, by First Aid. He's smiling down at you in wonder as he carefully carries you off to the exam room, so he can finally treat your injuries.

Hmph, you hear behind you, and then whirring and clanking of metal-person surgery resumes.

First Aid waits until you're safely seated on another enormous table in the exam room to say, I've never met an organic like you. You're so familiar, but so strange at the same time. Your servos are so tiny. How can something like you even be alive? But you are. You're so very much alive.

You let him drape your hand over his, admiring his fine control despite the size difference; as much as he's admiring the delicacy of the tiny system of calcium strut and sinew-pulleys and muscle that let you flex and close your fingers.

I've never met metal people before, you tell him. So I guess it's a new thing for both of us. This time when he smiles at you, you're able to meet it with a shaky one of your own.

[islakaliko]

— Chapter 2: Breaking point

disclaimer: a/b/o universe, alpha john price, male omega reader, very self indulged, violence

< previous | next >

The mission was simple. In theory.

Stakeout. Confirm the target’s location. Wait for the green light. Move in. Clean, quick, efficient.

John had done this kind of op more times than he could count. His team was positioned nearby. Eyes were on the building. Comms were clear.

Then the truck pulled up.

Wrong license plate. Wrong timing. Too fast.

Everything went sideways in seconds.

“Captain, we’ve got movement—armed, multiple,” Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms. “Looks like they’re heading toward the corner shops.”

John’s eyes snapped toward the storefronts—(y/n)’s coffee shop. And just as he looked, the door opened, and the omega stepped out.

Holding a tray of drinks, smiling gently to himself like it was any other afternoon.

John’s blood froze.

“Ghost, confirm—targets are headed toward the coffee shop.”

“Affirmative, but—wait, Price, don’t—!”

He was already moving.

Sprinting across the street, coat flaring behind him, instincts roaring to life. Not the mission. Not the orders. Just (y/n).

He hit the pavement just as the first gunfire cracked in the air.

People screamed. Glass shattered. (y/n) flinched, stumbled, the tray of drinks crashing to the ground.

John reached him in three long strides, grabbed him by the waist, and pulled him hard into the alley beside the shop just before more bullets sprayed the sidewalk.

(y/n) gasped, wide-eyed, heart pounding under John’s palm where it pressed against his chest.

“What—?!”

“Stay down,” John ordered, shoving him gently behind a dumpster. “Don’t move. Don’t speak.”

(y/n) didn’t argue.

His body shook, but his eyes stayed locked on John’s. Not panicked—just trusting.

John turned back toward the street, gun drawn, covering them both with methodical precision. His comm buzzed in his ear.

“Price, what the fuck are you doing?” Soap snapped. “That was reckless—”

“There was a civilian,” John barked. “He was in the line of fire.”

“Understood. Gaz is rerouting to sweep the area. Keep your position.”

The chaos slowed. Sirens wailed in the distance. The targets had scattered.

But John didn’t move from where he crouched, one arm still out protectively in front of (y/n) like his own body could block the world.

(y/n)’s voice, quiet behind him: “You came for me.”

John didn’t look back. “Couldn’t let you get hurt.”

“I’m just a barista.”

John finally turned then, his face unreadable, his voice a low growl. “You’re not just anything."

They stared at each other. The world still buzzed with distant noise, but for a moment, it felt quiet again.

The omega blinked slowly. “Are you alright?”

John actually huffed a breath—half disbelief, half fondness. “You’re the one who nearly got shot.”

“Yeah,” (y/n) said, offering the smallest, shaken smile. “But you look worse than I feel.”

John didn’t answer right away.

Just reached out and gently brushed a shard of glass from (y/n)’s sleeve. His hand lingered, just for a moment.

Too long.

Too soft.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said, voice suddenly thick with something he couldn’t name.

(y/n) nodded.

And when John helped him to his feet—his touch still firm, still careful—something shifted between them. The tension remained, but now it was charged.

Like the first pull of a current.

Neither of them knew what would come next.

But one thing was suddenly, irreversibly true:

(y/n) (l/n) was no longer just part of the background.

[chrepsi]

ˇ ⋆ ╱ sugar water - m. sturniolo

highschool!matt x highschool!reader

wc ; 800+

it started with a glance.

not the cliché kind, not the one where your heart drops and violins play in the background. no. it was quieter than that—less fireworks, more like the fizz of a soda can cracked open in a silent room.

matt sturniolo was the kind of boy you noticed without realizing you were noticing him. he was soft-spoken, eyes always flickering like he was halfway between dreaming and listening. he moved like music on low volume, like the hum of a song you forgot you loved.

and i was... me. i blended in. i stayed in the quiet corners of the school hallways, chewing pen caps and pretending to be too busy to care that no one said hi.

we had third period english together. he sat two rows to the left and one ahead. i spent most of that class pretending not to look at him. pretending i didn’t wait for the moments he laughed at something the teacher said, or the rare times he tapped his pencil to the beat of a song only he could hear.

on a tuesday that felt like a thursday, it happened.

he turned around.

"do you get what she’s talking about? this poem?"

i blinked. swallowed. looked down at the page like it could give me the answer.

"sort of," i said. "it’s about... wanting to feel something. even if it hurts."

he looked at me. like, really looked. not with the wide-eyed curiosity most people wore like a mask, but like he could see through the layers. through the silence. through the sugar-water sweetness i tried to coat myself in.

"that makes sense," he said, and turned back around.

i didn't breathe for twenty seconds.

we didn’t talk again for a week. then two. then suddenly, he was waiting for me outside class.

"hey. you like music, right?"

i nodded.

"wanna hear something cool?"

he handed me one earbud, the wire warm from his pocket. i took it. the song was slow, sad, and beautiful. lyrics like diary entries. like things you think but don’t say.

we didn’t speak while it played.

and just like that, i started living for third period. for the moments between bells. for the way our silences didn’t feel awkward, just comfortable.

like sugar melting in warm water.

the first time he made me laugh so hard i cried, we were sitting under the old bleachers, hiding from gym class.

"do you think if i just walk into traffic i can get out of running laps?"

"only if I come with you," i said, and he grinned.

he had that kind of smile. like he didn’t know it could break people. like he didn’t know it was rare.

"deal."

the laughter came in waves, crashing over us until i was clutching my stomach and gasping for air. and he just watched, eyes wide and lit up like i was something worth seeing.

we never labeled it. what we were. we didn’t need to.

there were days we barely talked, days when he sat with his head in his hands and i didn’t ask why. i just sat beside him. let him be quiet.

other days, he showed up at my locker with a piece of candy or a sticky note that said something like, "you looked sad yesterday. here’s a dumb joke to fix that."

i kept every note in a shoebox under my bed.

one day, he asked me what i wanted most.

"to matter," i said, too fast. then i looked away, embarrassed.

he didn’t laugh. didn’t tease. he just nodded slowly.

"you do. even if you don’t always feel it."

and that night, i cried in the shower. not because i was sad. just because someone finally said it.

the cracks started small.

he stopped answering texts. started showing up late. the music in his earbuds got louder. his eyes got quieter.

"are you okay?"

he shrugged. "just tired."

but tired turned into distant. into cold. into gone.

the last time we spoke was under gray skies. i found him behind the school, hands in his pockets, head down.

"you’re pushing me away."

he didn’t argue.

"why?"

"because you see too much. and i can’t handle being seen right now."

i wanted to scream. to shake him. to say i didn't care how broken he felt, that i wanted all of it.

instead, i whispered, "i miss you."

he looked at me, eyes shining. "i miss me too."

and then he walked away.

now, third period is just a class.

i sit in the same seat. i read the same poems. but it all feels like static.

sometimes, i listen to the song he played for me that day. let it wash over me. let it sting.

because sometimes, sugar water still hurts going down.

because sometimes, people leave.

but they don’t disappear.

they echo.

and i still hear him in the quiet.

<3 taglist ; @trevorsgodmother @pr3ttylittleslutt @v4lsturn @wildfluer @delilahsturniolo @courta13 @kisses4chris @chrispycremedonut @chrisspussygang @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @baebadoobee4ever @emely9274 @mvkyis @mattsbug @sturniqloo @mattsleftball @tits4matt @mothstvrnz @joanakaulitz @mialovesyouchris @belle-ee @owenstar @sturnsalcohol @joanakaulitz @cherryystemm @angeliolo @sturkneeohloww

( reply here to be added )

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

Fight For Us - Mattheo Riddle (1/?)

The tension in the air was suffocating. Something was wrong.

You’d noticed it all day— the way Mattheo had been acting. He was restless, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break, fingers twitching like they were waiting to wrap around his wand at a moment’s notice. He had barely spoken, which was unusual for him. Mattheo Riddle was many things— reckless, sharp-tongued, passionate— but quiet was not one of them.

You caught him staring at you more than once, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable. It was unsettling, and when you finally confronted him about it outside the Slytherin common room, he only shook his head and muttered something about needing to be careful tonight.

Careful of what? He wouldn’t say. And it gnawed at you.

The castle was eerily silent as the sun set, painting the sky in streaks of red and gold. Something about the way the torches flickered felt unnatural, and the usual background noise of Hogwarts— the distant chatter, the occasional laugh— had all but disappeared. A storm was coming. You could feel it.

Mattheo had barely left your side all evening, his hand hovering near his wand, eyes constantly scanning the corridors like he was waiting for something.

“Mattheo,” you whispered as you both sat in the library, the heavy tomes in front of you forgotten. “Talk to me.”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “You need to stay in the common room tonight. No sneaking around. No wandering. Just— promise me.”

You frowned, reaching for his hand. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

He hesitated. That alone scared you. Mattheo never hesitated.

“I can’t— I can’t tell you,” he said finally, voice strained. “But please, just this once, listen to me.”

Later that evening, you were sitting in the Slytherin common room with Astoria Greengrass. While she contentedly flipped through the latest issue of Witch Weekly, your mind was consumed by Mattheo’s warning. Something didn’t sit right with you. Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from somewhere in the castle. You immediately stood up and headed toward the sound, pushing away Mattheo’s voice in your head as he pleaded with you to stay put.

As you reached the entrance hall, the chaos became overwhelming. Screams echoed through the corridors, spells ricocheted off the stone walls, and the unmistakable, chilling green glow of the Killing Curse flashed in the distance.

Death Eaters. Inside Hogwarts.

A spell barely missed you, shattering a column inches from where you stood. You gasped, heart hammering in your chest as dust and debris clouded your vision. Before you could move, a firm grip yanked you backward, pressing you flush against a familiar chest.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Mattheo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his breath hot against your ear. His grip on your arms was tight, almost bruising, his entire body rigid with tension.

“I— I had to help,” you stammered, but the moment you met his gaze, you realized just how furious he was. His dark eyes blazed with something primal— fear masked as rage.

“Help?” he echoed incredulously. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

Before you could respond, an attacker lunged toward you both, wand raised. Mattheo was faster.

“STUPEFY!”

The Death Eater crumpled to the ground. Mattheo didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a side corridor, moving fast, too fast for you to keep up.

“Where are we going?” you panted, struggling to match his pace.

“Somewhere safe,” he muttered, eyes darting around wildly. He was thinking ten steps ahead, his grip on you ironclad.

You had a million questions, but before you could voice them, Mattheo had pulled you into an alcove, immediately turning to hold you in his arms. His hands cradled your face, his breathing uneven as he scanned you for injuries.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he admitted, voice raw. Before you could respond, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it was like he was trying to shield you from the entire world. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, his lips crashed against yours. It was desperate, unspoken fear and relief spilling into the kiss.

You barely had time to process it before a deafening sound shook the castle. The ground beneath you trembled, and in the distance, a terrible, heart-stopping scream echoed through the halls.

And then, silence.

Mattheo’s whole body tensed. His grip on you tightened almost painfully. You barely registered the way his breathing had changed— the way his entire demeanor had shifted from protective to something far more terrifying.

You had never seen Mattheo Riddle look afraid. Until now.

You swallowed. “Mattheo… what—”

“He’s dead,” he whispered, voice hollow.

A chill ran down your spine. “Who—?”

“Dumbledore.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The world tilted.

No.

And that’s when it hit you. The way he had been acting all day. The way he had begged you to stay in the common room. The way he had known something was coming.

Mattheo had known.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He wouldn’t meet your gaze now, his jaw locked, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

And for the first time since you had known him, Mattheo Riddle looked truly, utterly lost.

[glamourscat]

HAIKYUU HCS

-> HINATA, KAGEYAMA, YAMAGUCHI, NOYA, OIKAWA, SUGAWARA, BOKUTO

HINATA

When Hinata moved to Brazil alone he was excited, he had dreamed of this for months. The training, the beach, the sand… But that first night, everything came crashing down.

He waited for his mother to call him for dinner, but no one called. He waited for his sister to barge into his room, but no one did. He waited to hear the crows outside the window as the sun set and old Japanese couples chatted on their porches, but none of it came.

Silence was thick.

And then everything blurred as tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop the sobs as he stared at his phone background, at the Karasuno photo with Kageyama, Tsukki and Yamaguchi.

He fell asleep with wet eyes, panic slowly easing from his chest, replaced by something heavier. Loneliness. Because for the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

KAGEYAMA

Sometimes, he wonders, what if? What if he had been nicer to Hinata? To the others? What if he had just tried to open up?

He watches old videos from training camps and summer retreats. Everyone else is laughing, joking around, tangled in the warmth of what Karasuno used to be at the end of the day, a family. Not just a team. And yet he sees himself in a corner, quiet, distant.

He remembers what they said, word for word. His mouth moves on its own, echoing them as if he knew all the pauses, all of the words by heart. But it doesn't matter anymore. Because it's something he can never get back, he is not that Karasuno kid anymore, and neither are them.

NOYA

The wind runs through his hair as he walks down the narrow, old streets of a city he barely knows. Laughter stops him in his tracks. He turns just to be meet with the sight of a group of guys (around his age) all in uniform, shoving each other playfull. One of them throws a volleyball in the air as he walks, two are bickering with each other and one, who he presumes is the captain, is running behind them as they head into the gym.

He watches them for a second too long. He’s sure he made the right choice, he tells himself. He wanted freedom. No more volleyball, no ties, just the open world. So why does his chest ache like this? Why does it feel like something is missing?

YAMAGUCHI

He cannot stop staring at the TV. One day it's Hinata's match. The other, Kageyama's. Then Tsukki's. And another day, it's people he used to know from high school.

His eyes find a sequence of framed pictures on a shelf in the living room. Him and the others during first year. Him and Tsukki. Him and the others at summer retreat. Third year graduation.

"Let's all keep in touch, guys! Do not disappear!" He remembers Hinata screaming happily, in that cheerful tone he always had, right after getting their diplomas. That smile, always bright and full of warmth.

Yes. Let’s all keep in touch. Right. And where are you all now?

OIKAWA

Where is he? Where is he, damn it. He tries to control his breathing. He needs to be on the court soon. He has to focus. He cannot afford to screw this up. He cannot screw this up. If he does, he can say goodbye to the Olympics. And yet, his mind seems focused on only one thing. Him. Iwaizumi.

He promised he would be here.

Oikawa's eyes scan the court, row after row. And yet his figure is nowhere to be found. Five minutes before the start. He shouldn't. He should get his head in the game. But he can't. So he allows himself to check his phone.

FROM IWAZUMI → hey, i can't make it. something came up. catch you soon though, yeah? good luck.

"Oikawa? On the court. We're about to start," one of his teammates calls from afar.

And as he puts his phone away, all he can think is "he promised."

SUGAWARA

The school is quiet. He's stayed back again to finish grading some papers and to help to organize the gym for an upcoming match. It's peaceful, familiar. And yet there's an ache that he can't explain. He picks up a whistle from the bench. Coach ukai used to yell at them with it. Daichi would scold the first years. Asahi would panic. Hinata would laugh.

He holds it in his hands a little too long. He knows he's not supposed to miss it this much. He's moved on. He decided to become a teacher, just like everyone else decided to do their own thing. And yet, sometimes, he turns a corner and still expects to see Tanaka shouting or Kageyama brooding or even Noya jumping on someone's shoulders.

But now. It’s just him and the silence that seem to hold more memories he can remember.

BOKUTO

He laughs loudly as usual at dinner with his new team. They all cheer when he makes a joke and it feels good. It really does. But when he goes home and the door clicks shut behind him, the silence feels heavier than it used to. He tosses his bag aside and flops onto the couch, scrolling through old videos without thinking.

Akaashi. Akaashi’s in the background smiling in that way, small and yet so fond, thta only him knew how to. They still talk. Still see each other sometimes. Coffee before games. The occasional dinner. Polite, easy. Familiar. And yet something’s missing. The warmth. The closeness. The quiet way Akaashi used to look at him, like he understood Bokuto even when Bokuto didn’t understand himself. He stares at the frozen frame a little too long.

He knows he's doing well now, but sometimes the louder the crowd cheers, the more it all rings hollow. He presses play again, lets the sound fill the room and for just a moment he lets himself pretend.

Pretend that Akaashi is still there, beside him, and that nothing ever changed.

sorry not sorry for the angst <3

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[tinyshyteacup]

Tw: hospitals, vehicle accidents (but only if you squint) shitty ex's 😑

Part 1

Screams and Scotch - Part 2

The world was a blur when you came to.

The steady, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor. The faint hum of voices somewhere nearby. Everything felt distant, like you were floating just above your own body.

Pain settled in next—a dull, aching throb across your skull, your arms, your legs. It took a second to piece together why.

The crash. The bike. The truck.

Then you realized you weren’t alone. There were voices. Low, rough murmurs of conversation just outside the door. The kind of voices that belonged to men who weren’t used to whispering.

When you finally forced your eyes open, the light overhead was too bright, making you wince. Blinking against the blur, you turned your head slightly, vision slowly clearing.

Why where people in your hospital room ?

You inhaled sharply, and a voice—gruff, accented, and unfamiliar—immediately cut through the haze.

“Easy now, lass.” He had a lined face, sharp cheekbones, and a salt-and-pepper beard.

You blinked hard, trying to focus. The man sitting beside you, looked all leather and scruff, his arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes assessing—scanned your face like he’d been waiting for you to wake up.

And he wasn’t alone.

Two other men loomed in the background, standing near the door. a blond man—tall, broad, California-surf-pretty—tilted his head, blue eyes assessing. He looked less intimidating than the first man, but not by much.

Another guy, dark-haired, scruffy, and grinning like he had a secret, nudged the blond one. They where all clad in leather cuts that all bore the same patch—Sons of Anarchy.

You wet your lips, voice hoarse. “Who the hell are you?”

The man beside you let out a rough chuckle, shaking his head. “Well, ain’t that a thank-you for savin’ yer arse.”

Your brow furrowed. “Saving me?”

“Aye.” His voice softened, just a bit. “Name’s Chibs. Found ye after the crash. Rode with ye in the ambulance.”

You swallowed hard. “Why?”

Chibs’ expression flickered, something unreadable in his gaze. He hesitated just long enough for one of the other men—the tall scruffy one with dark hair—to pipe up from near the door. “He’s been sittin’ here for days, darlin’. Thought you might wanna say thanks.”

You stared between them, confusion twisting in your gut. None of this made sense. These men—these bikers—what the hell were they doing here? Why would this Chibs guy stay by your side?

Your head throbbed harder. Too much, too fast. You swallowed, gripping the scratchy hospital blanket.

“I… I don’t understand,” you admitted, voice small.

Chibs exhaled through his nose, shifting forward. “S’alright, lass. Just relax.”

But the way he said it—the certainty in his voice—made you feel oddly comforted.

A few hours later, when the others had cleared out, Chibs pulled up a chair beside your bed again.

You watched him cautiously, still trying to make sense of things. He was a biker, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t just some random guy who’d happened to be there. He knew things—had been there when it happened.

You just didn’t understand why.

“So,” Chibs started, resting an arm on the chair’s back. “Wanna tell me about the fella who was drivin’ that bike?”

Your stomach turned.

Your fingers curled into the blanket, you looked away from him.

“I…” You licked your lips. “I don’t know if I should.”

Chibs’ voice stayed calm, but there was an edge beneath it. “Aye, you should.”

Something in the way he said it—steady, unwavering—made you exhale shakily. The weight of the past few days pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked around the IV in your arm. “His name is Derek.”

Chibs waited.

You swallowed. “He was - well i guess n-now he's my ex?” The question was only for yourself.

His jaw twitched. “And ye thought it was a good idea to get on the back of his bike?”

Your eyes snapped up to his, defensive. “I didn’t want to. He told me—” Your voice cracked. You closed your eyes, inhaling slow and deep. “He told me if he couldn’t have me, no one would.”

The room went deathly quiet.

When you finally forced yourself to look at Chibs again, his expression had darkened—hardened. The easy amusement he’d had earlier was gone, replaced by something colder. Sharper.

“What are ye sayin’, lass?” His voice was dangerously quiet.

Your throat tightened. “I think he planned it.”

Something flickered in Chibs’ pale eyes. He leaned in slightly, his presence suddenly heavier. “Ye tellin’ me that son of a bitch crashed that bike on purpose?”

You nodded, a small, jerky movement. “He said… he said if I wasn’t his, I wouldn’t be anyone’s. That we’d go out together.”

Chibs exhaled, slow and measured. His fingers flexed against the back of the chair, and you could feel the shift in the air.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Dangerous.

“Where is he now?”

You hesitated. “I—I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since… I guess ... at home" Your gaze dropped to your bandaged arms.

Chibs was silent for a long moment. Then, he nodded, slow and deliberate.

“A’right,” he muttered, standing abruptly. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose before fixing you with a look that sent a chill down your spine. “I’ll handle it.”

Your stomach clenched. “Wait—what does that mean?”

But Chibs just patted the side of your hospital bed. “Ye don’t need to worry about that, lass.”

Something about the way he said it made your pulse jump.

And for the first time since the crash, you wondered just how much trouble you'd gotten yourself into.

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ His Fault

Drift x Reader Disclaimer: Self-harm, blood, heavy angst, loss of will to live 1/2

You paced back and forth atop the table, nerves frying themselves as boredom, restlessness, and fear consumed you. You so desperately wanted to go home, to find yourself back in your cosy, familiar living room, back to the times when you could take a ride whenever you wanted because then you could blast music and feel free.

Now you were trapped by a Cybertronian who swore he didn’t wish for things to be like this, that he didn’t want to take away your freedom, but that he couldn’t risk your safety by allowing you to roam; to be let go.

You’d rather be dead than be stuck here for any longer.

You’re trapped.

You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped.  You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You can’t get out. You’re trapped and you can’t get out. You can’t go home. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. You’re trapped.

You scream.

You’re screaming. Your lungs burn and you scream, and you claw at your head and there are shouts and thundering footsteps coming closer faster and faster and you just keep screaming as your knees hit the metallic table beneath you as trickles of blood tickle your face and burn your eyes as you scream until you’re too exhausted to go on.

Your hands fall and hit the ground, and you stare at your knees, watching the droplets of blood stain your trousers and go ‘plop’ as they trickle onto the surface beneath you.

Your throat is raw, and it hurts but you don’t feel anything, not really. It’s empty. The void in your chest grows, and the door to the room slides open like thunder as someone comes crashing inside, stopping briefly before running up to you.

A voice, frantic, speaks (yells?) In the background, but you can’t make out the words. It sounds familiar but you’re unsure about it as your vision grows hazy. Everything looks far away yet too close at the same time, too detailed whilst seeming unreal.

Shadows surround you, distant warmth closing in but seeming afraid to touch. The floor trembles as more footsteps enter, some heavier than others.

More voices, talking over and around each other. You cannot move but you don’t wish to, your body feeling numb and far too heavy.

More blood trickles into your eyes, making your vision turn red, and you close your eyelids as the world twirls and someone shouts in alarm as that warmth now surrounds you, cradling you as your mind begins to slip.

You’re turned over, your scalp feels sore and wet, and something bright and glowing is looking down at you; several. You see orange, white, blue, grey, and red, all of them quickly turning shapeless and their voices are fast and worried, and you’re suddenly being moved.

The servos that hold you are warm. Your face remains emotionless, there is an ache in your throat, your scalp, and your fingertips feel wet and sticky, but you barely register it. You’ve started to see flashes appear before your eyes, scenes that materialise, daydreams. It’s pleasant and it’s safe and familiar and comforting.

You try to fall into them.

“Little one, please!”

The voice finally forces its way through the fog, and you blink. Where are you again? You’re unsure but your eyes meet with pretty blue, and you see white, and those horn-looking things on his helm that vaguely remind you of backwards-facing bunny ears. Drift.

“Oh, Primus, little one,” his voice comes through clearer again, and you see what you think is Ratchet passing by in a near sprint. “Everything will be okay. Ratchet will treat you. You’ll be okay. It’s okay,” he said, sounding more and more as if he was speaking to himself. There was a clear tremor to his servos, you just noticed, your senses coming in little by little.

You didn’t want to be brought back to your senses. You wanted to disappear.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” said Drift, calling you back to him. You didn’t want to come back but your eyes met with him again before they could grow unfocused and distant. “Don’t be afraid, little one. Whatever it was that harmed you can’t touch you now. You’re safe,” he said, and he tried to smile but he looked too worried and afraid, and you knew he was lying. You knew he knew you’d done this to yourself.

He knew your mind was breaking, and it frightened him to see it happening right in front of him and how you appeared to just let it happen. It broke him to see you so willing to fall into despair just for a chance to escape your situation, and it broke him further to know that it was his fault.

He’d been the one to take you.

He’d been the one to deny you your freedom.

He’d been the one who’d ignored the worrying signs that something was terribly wrong with you because he’d grown attached and he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to lose you, but here he was, actively losing you to yourself because you’d been so miserable.

You’d given up, and it was his fault.

Part 2

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Because I didn’t want to stew in JayVik HELL anymore. I’m dragging ALL yall down with me-

I’m imagining Nanami is in his apartment, cooking dinner and waiting for you to come home. Music is playing in the background, he takes the cake he ordered out to settle into room temperature. A perfect stay in night for you two.

And the phone rings. It’s You on the way back. You jokingly say you want cold soba for dinner, knowing your fiancé has already finished dinner. Just waiting for you and the wine. After talking for a while he hears a loud sound, like brakes screeching.

Then there’s a crash and screams erupt from the phone. Your voice sounds distant and distorted. Nanami rushes out the apartment to the elevator, all while assuring you to take cover. The elevator stops on every floor though, forcing him to get out and run down the hall to find another. After three floors, he runs to the stairway, down and down to the lobby, all while the screaming is echoing in his head.

But once he gets there, the lobby is just his hallway again. Outside the window is calm and serene but he can still hear the destruction blaring over the phone. Your voice screaming “Kento! Kento!”

“This isn’t how it happened.”

And the screaming stops. “I wasn’t home, you were.”

“Yes.” Your monotone voice replied.

“You went downstairs to get wine, that’s when you got the call.”

“Yes.”

The calm night sky lit up in flames and a rush of wind blasted the neighboring buildings away. Nanami sighed, forehead pressed to the glass. “I never made it out of Shibuya.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“Don’t be sad Kento. You did your best, that’s all I could ask of you.”

He chuckled, “I can’t tell if that’s what you would really say or, if that’s what I want to hear.”

“That doesn’t really matter now dear.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Nanami stepped back from the glass and sat against the barren apartment wall.

“Kento?”

“Yes my love?”

“Can you tell me what you were going to tell me at dinner?”

“I wanted to honeymoon in Malaysia.”

“That’s so great honey. I would love to go there. Would you tell me about it?”

“Of course love.”

[imtryingbuck]

Thirty Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,082

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. Swearing. Fluff. Mentions of miscarriage. Cheating mentioned. Divorced mentioned. Car crash/death mention very briefly. Hit and run.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

“Georgia get here right now”

“Nooo”

Y/n sat on the soft couch laughing at hearing Bucky chase their four year old daughter around trying desperately to get her to put her shoes on. His little princess as he affectionately calls her had better ideas. To run.

“Bunny please help control your daughter”

“Oh she’s just my daughter now is she?”

“Yep” popping the ‘p’ Bucky pops his head around the door “please Bun she’s too fast, I really don’t know how she moves so fast”

“And you really think I’m going to be able to catch her with this” gesturing to her large bump “in the way”

Georgia Maria Grace Winnie Barnes. The apple of their eyes, the little spitfire with so much energy coursing through her tiny little body. Named after George as she was born on her granddads birthday, George cried and felt honoured that not only was she being named after him but she decided it was time to arrive on his birthday.

Her middle names were after her three grandmas.

Y/n found out she was pregnant again for the third time, she was scared to be honest. Two years after Georgia was born she had gotten pregnant again, at nearly three months along she had woken up to really bad cramping scared and alone as Bucky was on a business trip she rang Winnie who rushed over as quickly as she could. By the time Winnie had arrived it was too late. Y/n had sadly lost the baby.

Winnie rang Bucky his heart broke when he could hear the cries of his wife in the background, telling Steve that he needed to take care of the meeting he got on the first plane back.

It took both of them months to come to terms with the loss of their baby.

With this pregnancy Bucky handled business from inside their home, he refused to go anywhere wanting to be close by. In a way Bucky became slightly overbearing as he wouldn’t let Y/n do anything on her own, he did everything for her, looked after Georgia with little help and looked after the house. Y/n knew it was because he cared and was scared of losing the baby so she didn’t complain.

Eight months along it wasn’t going to be too long until she gave birth.

“Please pretty mama”

“You’re going to have to help me up Ducky” helping her stand he thanked her and gave her a kiss. “Georgie moo come and get your shoes on or you’re not going to see Billy and Tommy”

“Noooo” Georgia screamed shortly followed by her footsteps pattering the lamented flooring. “Wan’ see Tommy and Billy mommy”

“Well let dada put your shoes on then and we can go and see them”

Doing as her mommy said she let her dada put her shoes on. As soon as the laces were tied she ran off again, this time going to the front door.

“You ready to go Bun?”

“Yep, lets go”

Pulling up to Wanda's and Vis’s home Georgia was already trying to get out of her car seat, begging her dad to hurry up.

“Hey wifey” Wanda's soft voice greeted Y/n. “In the backyard Butterfly” her nickname for Georgia. Knowing where the twins were she ran through the house and out to the backyard where Wanda’s and Vis’ children were.

“Hey hubby. Nat here?”

“Yeah, just give you a heads up her and Clint have already had an argument.”

“Great, who won?”

“Neither really, it was Laura who put a stop to it”

Natasha and Clint got married less than a year after Bucky, Steve and Sam had met them. Everything was perfect and they seemed to have a perfect marriage that was until Clint got a new job and that’s where everything started to become strained.

Coming home late at night sometimes stinking of whiskey, he became cold and distant with Nat, secretive with his phone. He preferred to spend most of his time at the office instead of being at home and trying to create a family just like they both had planned.

Y/n had lost count of how many times Nat would ring her late at night drunk and crying, slurring and stumbling over her words. Wanda the same. Nat wasn’t stupid by any means but she refused to believe what she already knew. What everyone knew.

Clint was having an affair.

The final straw that broke the camels back as the saying goes is when Clint didn’t arrive to the high end restaurant Nat had booked a table for them at. To celebrate their wedding anniversary. Nat rang Y/n knowing she was with Wanda at the time crying and begging for them to come to hers so she could pack her things. Told them she couldn’t do it anymore. The two best friends showed up as quickly as they could, nearly two hours of being there all three of them froze when they heard the front door open and close.

The silence was deadly when Clint came up to the bedroom after seeing the suitcases and bags packed in the living room. He asked what was going off, looked at Y/n and Wanda and told them to leave, Nat told them not to move so they didn’t. Wanda’s and Y/n’s eyes burnt a hole in the side of Clint’s neck, where a hickey was. He denied Nat’s accusations, telling her that she was overreacting. Told her that she was just being dramatic and that the long hours were for them, it was for their future.

Y/n was fed up with seeing Natasha struggle, having to hear her cries it broke her heart. The truth only came out when Y/n started laughing, fed up with how someone she considered one of her best friends could stand there and lie to his wife – her best friend all while he had a hickey on his neck. Pointing to the side of his neck he sighed in defeat.

Though he claimed they never did anything, he actually swore on his life and when he didn’t drop down dead like Y/n always thought would happen if you did that and you was lying, she believed him. He did admit that he had fallen in love with someone else, that the night of his anniversary that had marked seven years of marriage he was with this other woman, he had made out with her, he swore that he didn’t do anything else. Said he couldn’t because he had a wife. He had confessed to telling this other woman everything about him and his marriage with Natasha.

For Nat it was worse than if he had just said ‘yes I’ve been sleeping with someone else’ as he was emotionally connected to this other woman. The next day with Y/n and Wanda by her side she filed for divorce.

It was a slow and very messy process. Natasha wanting more money just out of spite, Clint wanting the house… so he could move the other woman in. It took nearly two years for the divorce to be finalised, in that time Clint had proposed to the other woman and already had one kid. When Y/n met Laura she really wanted to hate her, she did for the fact that she took Clint away from Natasha. But Laura had to be really nice didn’t she making it really hard on Y/n to hate the woman.

Three years after their divorce Clint and Natasha was always at loggerheads sometimes about the most stupidest of things, always trying to outdo the other despite Clint being ‘happily’ married to Laura and Natasha ‘happily’ dating Bruce. A man that she had met one night, great guy incredibly shy.

“Laura stopped them? I’m surprised she said anything”

“So was I but apparently it was upsetting the baby”

Oh yeah, Laura was pregnant with their third kid.

Laughing and shaking her head she linked arms with Wanda as Bucky trailed behind them. All their friends were outside, the kids all playing together. Y/n had just greeted Steve and Peggy – his girlfriend, nice woman, made Steve happy. Sam and Maria – his fiancée, like Peggy she was nice and she made Sam happy. Nat and Bruce.

“Y/n? Oh my god it is you”

Turning around at the sound of her name her jaw dropped. Literally.

“Pietro?”

“Yeah it’s me. Gosh you’re still as beautiful as ever”

“Pie I’m a married woman” Y/n laughed.

“So am I-wait-I’m married-I’m a married man”

“No, no, no you’re now a married woman, you said so yourself.”

“God you haven’t changed have you?”

“Nope. How are you?”

Catching up with Pietro after not seeing him in over ten years, the last time they saw each other was for Wanda and his parents funeral, car crash. Wanda took it exceptionally hard, Vis rang Y/n one night asking if Wanda was with her when he heard that she wasn’t he started to panic. It took the group splitting up to look for her, Y/n and Nat found Wanda on the beach drowning her sorrows with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Mommy-mommy look” Georgia gained her moms attention as she ran over to her.

“What is it sweetie?”

“Hand” holding out her hand for her daughter her eyes widened when Georgia put a large spider in the palm of her hand.

“Sweetie where did you get this from?”

“Tommy tried to hurt it”

“Oh, lets get him back to his home, yeah?”

Georgia nodded as tears started to gather in her eyes, Bucky always said that she took after Y/n when it came to protecting animals, and creepy crawlies. Yes even at thirty six he still called them that. When Georgia was two she waddled in to the kitchen making Winnie and Bucky scream so loudly it made Y/n jump up and went running to the kitchen, bumping into things as she went. Entering the kitchen she came to a halt when Georgia’s tiny beautiful face, her bright baby blue round eyes looking up at her mommy, her cheeks being puffed out by her wide smile, with one hand she pushed back the same untameable hair that she got from Y/n. “Doggy” she giggled as she raised her tiny chubby arm up.

It was indeed not a doggy but a grass snake. A two year old Georgia was holding up a snake as her grandma stood in the corner of the kitchen shaking and her father well… he was standing on top of the kitchen island… holding a rolling pin.

“Okay” Pietro helped Y/n stand, thanking him she held her hand out for Georgia to take and she led her to the far end of the garden.

“Here you go baby, put him on the grass and he’ll find his way home”

“Okay. Look mommy he going home”

“He sure is bubba”

“My friend” Georgia squealed as she watched the spider walk up the fence.

Yeah she was definitely Y/n’s daughter.

“Hey Y/n/n can I ask a huge mega favour from you and Bucky, please?”

“Sure Wands, what’s up?”

“Can you both look after the twins this weekend? Vis has a work trip and ever the gentlemen he has said I could come along…so…yes or double yes?”

“If I say yes do I only get one of them?”

“Which one would you prefer?”

“Billy.”

“Wow okay you answered that pretty quick”

“It was wasn’t it? But anyway of course we’ll take the twins for ever and ever an-“

“She’s not taking our kids forever Wan” Y/n laughs as Vis cuts her off in the background.

“I’m sorry wifey its only for this weekend, Vis is being mardy”

“Shoot. Bring them around when you want-hold on there’s a knock at the door.” Struggling to stand she waddles to the front door, opening she rolls her eyes.

“Really Wanda?”

“Oh hi didn’t expect to see you here, long time no see huh. Anyway here are your godsons, boys be good for Auntie and I’ll see you both on Sunday. Love you all”

Shaking her head at her best friend, she goes to tell the boys to come in when she glances down they’re not there but behind her.

“Where is Georgia?” Tommy asks as he looks around.

“Gone to see her grandma and granddad, they’ll be back soon don’t worry”

Though the twins were a year older Tommy and Georgia were best friends. Tommy was the loud one out of the twins, the one that liked to explore and play in the mud, the one that got all the attention. It was one of the reasons Georgia got on well with him as she was just the same. Billy was the quieter one, preferred to have his head in his comics, his latest fascination was with a group of super heroes that were called The Avengers. People had a tendency of overlooking Billy because of how quiet he always was but not Y/n, Billy made her cry once when he told her that she was his favourite. Whenever he wanted a new comic book she always happily took him to the comic book store that opened on Maple Drive, always happy to spend time with her favourite godson. Don’t judge her for having favourites.

“Can I play in her play room?”

“Okay but don’t break anything!” she shouts as he started running when she said ‘okay’ “What about you Billiam, what do you want to do?”

“My names Billy Auntie not Billiam” the five year old whined with a small shy smile on his lips.

“That’s what Billy’s short for monkey, didn’t you know?”

“No it isn’t”

“It is Bilbo I’d never lie to you. So what do you want to do?”

“Ca-can we look at the photos some more please?”

The last time the twins were around Tommy and Georgia was keeping Bucky busy by destroying things and Billy was curled up in Y/n’s side as they went through the many photo albums she had.

“Of course my sweet Billiam, but you’ll have to get them, bottom shelve remember?”

“I remember Auntie”

Sitting down on the couch she watches Billy pull out two of the photo albums from the top of the pile and brings them over, handing them to her he climbs on the couch next to her.

“Who’s that?” Billy asked when he saw a black and white photo of Y/n’s mama, proudly telling him who she was his face contorted in confusion “But grandma Maria is your mom and that’s not her” the boys were just months old when Maria passed away but grew up hearing stories about her, they started to call her grandma as well.

“Well sweetheart I’m adopted”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not really grandma Maria and granddad Howard’s daughter but they became my parents when they signed some papers”

“Where did your mom go?”

“She’s with grandma Maria and your grandparents”

“Oh. Look auntie its Georgia” he points at a picture, she laughed.

“That isn’t Georgia bub, its me” it was the only photo she had of herself when she was Georgia’s age, and even then she was sporting a black eye in the photograph.

“No it isn’t, its Georgia”

“It isn’t I swear I’m not lying to you”

“It looks like her and not you”

“She does look like me when I was younger doesn’t see?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty though”

Rude. Wait…what?

There was a bet going to see whether or not Tommy and Georgia would date when they got older, everyone thinks that they would as they are so similar to each other and always spend every chance they got with each other.

But Billy, the sly little fox might be the one who takes Georgia’s heart.

“Do you think she’s pretty bubba?”

“I do” his cheeks turn a shade of bright red “But she’s friends with Tommy not me”

“She’s your friend too Billy”

Just as he’s about to reply the front door opens and Georgia’s voice echoes throughout the house. “Honey I’m home” she giggles, it’s what Bucky always says when he returns home from work or meeting the guys.

“Hi Billy” she waves when she sees him “hi baby” she then says coming over to Y/n her hands going straight to her mommy’s belly.

“H-h-hi G-Geor-“

How on earth did she miss that? Billy always became a stuttering mess whenever Georgia was around...

“Georgia your back, come play” Tommy interrupts his twin, before Y/n can say anything Georgia runs over to Tommy and they both run out of the room.

“Hey pretty mama, hey kiddo” Bucky greets his wife and godson.

“Hi Uncle Bucky” Billy replies quietly, he slides the photo album off Y/n’s stomach closing it carefully before climbing off the couch and puts the photo album back.

The next day Y/n and Bucky treated the kids to a day out, the sun shined brightly in the clear blue sky as Bucky pushed Georgia and Tommy on the swings. Y/n sat with Billy on a bench, she had told him that he could play too but he opted to stay with her, feeling guilty at Billy’s glum expression she told got Bucky’s attention.

“Ducky, I’m nipping to the store do you want anything?”

“A bottle of water please Bun”

“Okay, I’m taking Billy with me. Come on Billy Bob, I’m kidnapping you”

“What that mean?”

“Never mind”

Holding his hand she walks across the road and up the street, he went to turn into the store that he knew sold water and frowned when Y/n told him ‘not just yet’. Further up the street was a new comic book store, she had seen it a few days back when she was driving to pick up Georgia from Howards, she made a mental note to make sure she took Billy there next time she had him.

The way Billy’s face lit up when he saw the sign warmed her heart, giving him a nod he let go of her hand and ran up to the window. “Look auntie look!”

In the store was large cardboard cut-out of the Avengers, Billy’s new favourite super heroes. “Want to take a photo with them?”

“Really?”

“Of course, and if you take a silly photo with me you can get two new comics, how does that sound?”

“YOU’RE THE BEST AUNTIE!”

“I know, I know. Come on then”

Letting him push open the door – with some help from her – he ran straight up to the super heroes, staring at them in awe. “Billy give me your super hero pose then” taking out her phone she took multiple photos of him standing next to each hero. The worker Ron came over and pushed them all together so Billy could have a group photo, Y/n asked Ron if he could take a photo of the pair of them he nodded happily.

“Right Bilbo silly faces now”

“Okay”

Billy stuck his tongue out and pulled out his ears whilst Y/n stuck out her tongue too and crossed her eyes.

“Thank you so much”

“No need to thank me Miss, it’s nice to see kids enjoy comics” and with that Ron walked back over to the checkout.

“Right Billiam since you did the silly photo with me, you can pick out two new comics”

“Thank you. Thank you”

Billy went straight to the Avengers section and picked out one before running all over the store to find his next comic. Hand in hand with his pick he came bouncing over to where Y/n was stood waiting as she sent all the photos in the group chat the group was in.

“I picked”

“Are you happy with your choices?”

“Yep”

“Okay sweet boy lets go and pay”

Standing behind a man who was being served Y/n noticed Billy’s eyes going to the second comic he had picked out to behind the counter and back again. “Bill what’s up?”

“T-they have new Avengers comic” pointing to behind the counter “bu-but I want this one” showing her New X-Men Volume 3: New Worlds comic he had picked.

“I thought you picked out an Avengers one?”

“Last one, that ones new”

“Oh, which one do you want more?”

“I don’t know…I get these” he stands on his tippy toes to place them on the counter as it was their turn to be served. Billy was always like that, he wouldn’t be screaming and having a tantrum if he wasn’t able to get all three not like Tommy, one time in a store with Wanda he threw himself on the ground because he wasn’t allowed to get two chocolate bars, Billy even told him that he could have his but that wasn’t good enough for Tommy. In the end he got his own way and got two chocolate bars, whilst Billy only got the one, then Tommy stole his.

Ron handed the plastic bag over to Billy who thanked him, he walked over to the Avengers cut out to say goodbye, just before putting her card in the machine she asked Ron for the new comic. She was going to surprise him. Paying and saying her thanks she walked over to Billy.

“Come on bubba”

“Thank you auntie Y/n”

“Don’t thank me just yet” Once out of the store Billy went to hold Y/n’s hand but something was in his way. “Oh what must that be?”

“I-I-It-AVENGERS!” his scream startled an old couple that was walking past.

“Am I the best or am I the best?”

“BEST AUNTIE EVER! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU”

“Bilbo sweetie calm down” she laughed at his reaction, the way he held the comic in his shaking hands “Hold my hand so we can get uncle Bucky his water and when we get back to mine you can read them”

Hand in hand they went to the store getting Bucky his drink, one for her and one for each of the kids, Billy talking enthusiastically about his new comics, she paid and they left. Looking over the road she saw Bucky standing by the bench her and Billy had previously occupied, tapping his watch his eyebrow flicked up, Billy had seen the gesture and held up his bag containing his prizes with a huge smile on his lips. Bucky laughed and shook his head fondly.

Looking both ways twice seeing no cars around before crossing, a loud screeching sound pierced her ears. It all happened in slow motion.

Turning her head to the right she saw a grey car speeding towards them, not thinking she pushed Billy in front making him tripping over and landing in the space between two parked cars. She had no time to move herself.

She heard Bucky yelling her name, the word laced with fear and panic

The impact was hard enough to send her tumbling over the roof of the speeding car. Landing on her back in the middle of the road her eyes desperately trying to find Billy, she breathed a breath of relief when she saw him with two elderly women, one of them on the phone the other keeping Billy’s face buried in her stomach.

“B-Bunny-baby keep those eyes open-Bunny don’t go to sleep-an ambulance is on its way-bab-baby no no keep your fucking eyes open Y/n! I mean it-Bun you c-can’t leave me”

Y/n could hear her Ducky pleading with her to stay awake and she tried, she really did but she was so tired.

So, so, so tired.

Her eyes burned as she opened them, her body ached everywhere, the memories of what happened came back in snippets. Taking Billy to the comic book store and going to get drinks for everyone, the grey car, said grey car hitting them. Billy bleeding. Billy was bleeding.

Shooting straight up she groaned in pain. Billy was bleeding. The blood on his little legs.

“Bun lay back down baby-Steve get the doctor-Bunny lie bac-“

“B-Bil-Billy” she croaked out.

“He’s fine baby, I promise just lay back down sweet girl”

“W-where’s Billy?”

“He’s just outside with Wanda and Vis. He’s okay I promise”

“He was r-ran over, blood Ducky, h-he was bleeding”

“Y/n, Billy wasn’t ran over baby. You was.”

Oh. As long as her godson was okay it was fi-

“T-the baby Bucky”

“He’s okay too Bunny, perfect honestly”

“He? Ducky…we ha-have a son?”

“We do Bun, he’s okay, Billy’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Please lie down baby”

They have a son. They decided not to know what the gender was as they didn’t with Georgia, hearing that they had a son and that he was okay, perfect as Bucky said made her listen to Bucky when he told her to lie down.

“Wh-where is he?”

“ma, dad and your dad is with him, he’s small Bun but doctors said that he’s perfectly healthy.”

“Georgia?”

“Outside with everyone. Don’t worry about anything okay? Just relax”

The doctor came in after Bucky had finished telling her to relax, he went over the extent of her injuries but she wasn’t real listening her mind on her baby boy that she hasn’t even met yet. She did hear the doctor tell her that she was very lucky to be alive, with her injuries, having to have an emergency C-section done in the back of the ambulance, the loss of blood, she was very lucky.

Hit and run.

She had missed the birth of her son because some idiot was speeding and he didn’t have the decency to stop just to check if she was okay. When the police had caught the driver he was unlicensed, drunk and high.

She missed the birth of her son because an idiot didn’t know right from wrong.

With her body throbbing despite the pain meds she drifted in and out of sleep, when Howard got word that she was awake he came barrelling through the door panting heavily. He held his daughter in his arms and cried, the thought of having to bury his daughter made his chest squeeze tightly. And it was a good job he was with George and Tony at the time he got that phone call as his legs collapsed underneath him.

She had fallen asleep in her dads arms and when she woke again he had gone back to see his only grandson. One by one everyone came into the room but under strict orders by the doctor that it could only be one at a time.

Bucky went to get Georgia who squealed at seeing her mommy for the first time in what felt like forever to the both of them. “Mommy, mommy”

“Hi baby, oh how I’ve missed you!” Georgia practically jumped out of Bucky’s arms and started to climb all over Y/n.

“Princess be careful” Bucky lightly scolded as he saw Y/n flinching at the four year old climbing over her.

“Mommy” is all she said. Taking her moms face in her tiny hands she placed kissed all over her mommys face. She’s seen Bucky do it plenty of times so of course she copies him.

“Did you miss me baby?”

“Miss you, miss you”

Georgia finally settles on Y/n’s chest and slowly falls asleep, Winnie came in an hour later so she could take Georgia home, not forgetting to give her sleeping daughter-in-law a kiss on her forehead.

When Wanda came in she burst into another fit of tears, she hadn’t stopped crying from the moment she had heard that her best friend had been ran over and not only that but she had saved her son.

“Y/n/n I-I will never be able to repay you f-for saving Billy” she stuttered, holding her best friends hand.

“D-don’t be silly Wands, he’s my godson”

“Billy wants to see his favourite auntie, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course I want to see him”

A few minutes after Wanda left the door came back open revealing her godson, he stumbled when he saw the bruises and cuts on his auntie. Bucky noticed and got up and knelt down in front of him.

“She’s okay buddy”

“R-really?”

“Yes bud, auntie Y/n is super strong-“

“Li-like an Avenger?”

“Exactly like an Avenger, do you want to come over?” Billy nodded but made no attempt to move forward “want me to pick you up bud?” nodding once again Bucky picked his godson up and placed him on his hip.

“There’s my Billiam, how are you baby?”

“I-I-I’m sorry a-auntie Y-Y/n-“

“Hey-hey none of that, it isn’t your fault sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”

“I-I saw the baby auntie”

“You did? Is he cute?”

“No” Billy giggled causing Y/n and Bucky to join in.

“Have you read any of your comics?”

“N-no”

“Well climb in and read to me then monkey” Bucky gently places the five year old next to his wife and pulls the blanket over him and nips out of the room to grab the bag containing the comic, when Billy tells him which one he wanted Bucky took it out and handed it over to him.

Three pages in and Billy taps his uncle Bucky on his knee, pointing and quietly giggling at seeing his auntie Y/n asleep.

Two days after waking up for the first time after the accident the doctors gave Y/n permission to go down to where her baby was, Bucky helped her in to the wheelchair and started going the route he had become familiar with over the six days since the accident had happened, the one where he nearly lost his wife and baby.

“Are you ready Bunny?” he asked as he came to a stop outside the door.

“I’m ready Ducky”

The nurse opens the door and Y/n’s wheeled in, seeing her dad and parents-in-laws standing there with smiles on their faces.

And there he was. Their beautiful baby boy, small like Bucky said but looked so strong. His hair curly and the same shade of brown as Bucky’s. It was as if he sensed his parents he opened his eyes and turned to face them.

His eyes blue as the ocean and as wide just like Georgia’s were.

“Oh Ducky he’s precious”

“He is indeed Bunny, our precious little boy”

“Have you two got a name for the little fella?” Winnie asks wondering what her grandson was to be called.

Y/n looked up at Bucky who smiled down at her, nodding. Though they didn’t know the gender that had already picked out names.

“Jamie Howard Anthony Barnes”

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af

[maybe-im-dark]

Embracing the beast

A short piece based on this post https://www.tumblr.com/maybe-im-dark/761522294450487296?source=share, where i share my theory that Logan is stronger in D&W because he has embraced his inner animal, after having witnessed the death of the X-Men

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The attic of the abandoned house was dark, the smell of dust and decay filling the stale air. Logan crouched in the corner, his breaths ragged and uneven. It was the only place he could find where he could be alone, where he could escape the world that had taken everything from him. The X-Men were gone, wiped out by forces they had never seen coming, and in the aftermath, after killing everyone that came across his path, Logan had fled, running until his legs threatened to give out, until he could no longer feel the weight of what he had lost.

Now, he sat huddled in the shadows, his mind replaying the last moments—the screams, the blood, the faces of his friends twisted in pain. His own hands were stained red, blood from enemies and allies alike, and he could still feel the warmth of it, still smell the iron tang of death clinging to his skin. It was too much, too overwhelming. Everything he had tried to bury, everything he had tried to control, came crashing down on him all at once.

Logan gripped his head, claws partially unsheathed, and let out a choked, guttural growl. He was tired—tired of fighting, tired of trying to be something he wasn’t. There was a monster inside him, always had been, and he had spent his entire life trying to cage it, trying to be a man instead of the beast they had made him. But now, with nothing left to lose, what was the point? What was the point of pretending?

He slammed his fists against the wooden floor, his claws digging in, tearing gouges into the rotting wood. “Enough,” he muttered to himself, his voice raw and strained. “Enough.”

Logan’s body shook as he let go of the fear, the guilt, the pain. He closed his eyes and surrendered, allowing himself to fall into the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface. The process was excruciating, every nerve in his body catching fire as he let the animal inside him come to life. He fell forward, muscles seizing, his back arching painfully as he dug his claws deeper into the floor.

“Let it go,” he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice barely more than a growl. “Let it all go.”

He bit down hard on his lower lip, tasting blood as it seeped into his mouth, mixing with the saliva that dripped from his fangs. His eyes rolled back, and for a moment, everything was chaos. The beast roared within him, surging forward, threatening to consume him whole. It was like a tidal wave crashing down, but instead of drowning, he rose with it. He didn’t resist. Instead, he surrendered, letting it wash over him, through him, around him.

And then, something changed. The animal didn’t take him over—it didn’t reduce him to a mindless killer, as he had always feared. It merged with him, filling every crack, every broken piece, every scar he carried, until he was no longer just Logan, or just the beast, but something more. Something whole.

His breathing slowed, and the world came into sharper focus. He could hear everything—the creak of the house settling, the faint rustle of leaves outside, the distant hum of life miles away. His heart thumped steadily in his chest, and he felt… calm.

For the first time in years, there was no inner conflict, no voice in the back of his mind whispering that he was nothing but a weapon. There was just him. Complete.

Logan lay still for a moment, the world around him fading into the background as he adjusted to this new sensation, this sense of being. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, the primal energy that had always been there but had never felt so… right. When he finally opened his eyes, they glowed a bright, piercing yellow for a heartbeat, then faded back to their usual dark hue.

Slowly, he rose to all fours, feeling the raw strength in his limbs, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. He tilted his head back and let out a deep, rumbling roar that shook the rafters, a sound that spoke of pain, of rage, of a lifetime spent running from what he was.

But he wasn’t running anymore.

Logan stood there for a moment, feeling the vibrations of his own roar echoing through his chest, before a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile of joy or happiness. It was a smile of acceptance, of defiance, of power.

He needed to move, needed to feel the wind against his face, the ground beneath his feet. He needed to hunt. The world could burn for all he cared, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be the one to set it ablaze.

“Time to have some fun,” he muttered, his voice rough and low. With that, he slipped out of the attic

[theboogiewoo]

Here’s a fluffy one-shot featuring Mitch Williams and his siblings, Audrey, Ruf, and Speck, enjoying some family time after Mitch has a rough day.

---

"Player Four Joins the Game"

Mitch slumped against the doorframe of his siblings’ house, his head throbbing from the sheer amount of noise he’d endured today at the arcade. Even with his hearing aids turned down, the din of screaming kids, blaring game soundtracks, and malfunctioning Glitches had been overwhelming.

He rubbed his temples and let out a sigh before knocking lightly. Within seconds, the door flew open, revealing Audrey with her hands on her hips, her sharp eyes narrowing in mock disapproval.

“Wow, you look like you got hit by a truck and lost all your HP” she teased, stepping aside to let him in.

“Feel like it too,” Mitch mumbled, shrugging off his jacket.

“Hey, little bro!” Ruf called from the couch, raising a can of soda in greeting. Speck was sprawled beside him, mashing buttons on a controller.

“Sup,” Mitch replied weakly, dropping onto the worn armchair in the corner. He didn’t even have the energy to kick off his shoes.

Audrey disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a can of Mitch’s favorite soda. She tossed it to him, and he caught it clumsily, cracking it open with a grateful nod.

“Rough day?” Speck asked, pausing the game.

“You have no idea,” Mitch muttered. “Bunch of screaming kids, a Glitch that wouldn’t quit, and a customer who swore I shortchanged them. Turns out they couldn’t do basic math.”

Ruf snorted. “Sounds brutal. Good thing you’re here now. We’re about to start a game of Crash Cart Carnage. Player Four is wide open.”

Mitch blinked at them, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Seriously?”

“Duh,” Audrey said, tossing him a controller. “It’s your turn to lose, anyway.”

Mitch chuckled softly, feeling a bit of the day’s weight lift. His siblings had always known how to take his mind off things.

“You wish,” he said, adjusting his hearing aids to filter out background noise but still catch their trash talk.

As the familiar startup music blared through the TV, Mitch leaned forward, the controller settling comfortably in his hands. The four of them fell into their usual rhythm—Speck and Ruf racing ahead, Audrey taking every opportunity to sabotage, and Mitch plotting his revenge with a sly grin.

For the first time all day, Mitch felt at ease. He wasn’t the leader or the guy with all the answers here—just their baby brother, holding his own in a chaotic sibling rivalry.

By the time the game ended, laughter echoed through the apartment, and Mitch’s earlier frustration felt like a distant memory.

“Okay, fine, you win this round,” Audrey admitted grudgingly as Mitch’s character crossed the finish line first.

“Damn right I do,” Mitch said with a smirk, leaning back against the couch.

“You’re lucky I didn’t throw a red shell at you,” Speck muttered, mock-glaring.

Ruf nudged Mitch’s shoulder. “See? You just needed some family time. Feeling better now?”

Mitch nodded, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Yeah. Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime,” Audrey said, ruffling his hair. “You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

“Guess I don’t mind,” Mitch replied, pulling them into an impromptu group hug.

In that moment, surrounded by his siblings, Mitch knew he could take on whatever the next day threw at him.

---

I posted it on here bc my Wattpad and AO3 are fucking broken rn 😭🙏 LETS GOOOO (I hate this😭

[worldsmessiestwriter]

I waited.

tw - just heartbreak :(

word count - idek… short?

Peter Parker x Stark! reader

inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift

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The night Peter Parker became an intern at Stark Industries, Y/N Stark didn’t think much of him. He was just another kid trying to impress her dad, his awkwardness almost charming in its sincerity. But over time, something shifted. He became more than the boy with quick reflexes and a penchant for overexplaining; he became her safe place, her partner, her first love.

For years, they built a life together in the chaos of superheroes and scientific breakthroughs. Late nights turned into mornings spent tangled in blankets, lab projects turned into private jokes, and Y/N found herself falling deeper into the kind of love she never thought she deserved.

Her father teased them mercilessly. “You and Queens over there, huh?” Tony would smirk, pointing at Peter like he was the punchline to a joke. But she saw the way her dad’s expression softened whenever Peter’s hand brushed hers, the way Tony watched Peter with a kind of reluctant approval.

Peter made her believe in forever.

As the blip began, Y/N felt it before she saw it. Peter’s hand, always so steady, began to tremble in hers. She turned to him, her heart plummeting as she saw the fear in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head in denial. “No, no, Peter, don’t—please—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his face crumpling as his body began to disintegrate. “I’ll come back. I promise, I’ll come find you.”

“You can’t leave me!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face as she clung to him, as though sheer force of will could hold him together. “You said you’d stay, Peter! You promised—”

“I love you, i promise” he said softly, and then he was gone, his hand slipping from hers as his body turned to ash.

Y/N fell to her knees, numb and broken, her father’s voice distant in the background as the world around her collapsed.

The years after the blip were a slow-motion nightmare.

Y/N refused to let go of Peter’s promise. She replayed his last words over and over, clinging to them like a lifeline. I’ll come back. I’ll find you. She left a lamp burning in her room every night, a quiet beacon of hope for the boy she couldn’t imagine living without.

Her father did his best to pull her out of the darkness, but even Tony Stark’s sharp wit and stubborn resilience couldn’t fix the hole Peter’s absence left in her heart.

Y/N was alone.

She tried to move on, to pick up the pieces, but every corner of her life reminded her of Peter. His hoodie tucked in the back of her closet. His sketches of upgraded web-shooters in the lab. The way he used to laugh when she teased him, his voice echoing in her memory like a ghost.

Every night, she sat by the window, looking up at the stars, wondering if he was out there somewhere, looking back at her.

One day, while clearing out her father’s workshop, Y/N stumbled upon an old photo.

It was of her, Peter, and Tony, taken during one of their late nights in the lab. Peter had his arm slung around her shoulders, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. Tony stood behind them, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.

Y/N stared at the photo, her breath hitching. She ran her fingers over Peter’s face, tracing the boy she had loved with everything she had.

And for the first time, she let herself admit the truth.

He wasn’t coming back.

The weight of it crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in grief she had kept locked away for so long. She sank to the floor, clutching the photo to her chest, sobbing so hard she thought her heart might give out.

“I waited,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I waited for you, Peter. I believed you’d come back.”

Her fingers curled around the edges of the photo, her tears soaking the edges. “You promised me. You promised, and you—” Her voice broke, the words lost to the ache in her chest.

For the first time, she let herself feel the depth of her loss—not just for Peter, but for the life they were supposed to have, the future they’d dreamed of.

The lamp in her room remained unlit that night.

Forgive me peter , please know that i tried.

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