#made my fic brain whirr

[thlayli-ra]

Punk fancied himself the Phantom as he walked the darkened back rooms… unaware that he was in fact the haunted primma donna!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

I've been telling myself FOR YEARS that i need to rewatch twilight and i can't believe that your modern!eddie fic is what pushed me to do it. someone could write a fic about him taking care of his s/o after they get their wisdom teeth removed and that would convince me to finally make that appointment

“Babe,” Eddie smothered his grin behind a hand, watching with big, fond eyes as you struggled with the door handle. “Baby.”

You made a strangled sound, cheeks stuffed with cotton and your face still numb, your brain foggy from the drugs the dentist had coaxed you into taking. You hated the dentist.

But Eddie had held your hand the entire time, just like he’d promised, from when you’d made the call, to driving you there, in the waiting room, hand in his and leg bouncing, to the time the dentist tilted you back in the chair with a slow whirr.

And when it was time to sit up and spit, the boy held your hair back and dabbed at your poor, dry lips, frowning softly when he saw your dazed expression, your flushed cheeks and watery eyes.

“Y’okay, princess?” He’d whispered, watching you carefully as the dentist fussed with your painkiller prescription.

You’d nodded, trying your best to smile with your chipmunk cheeks, leaning closer to the boy until it was clear your perception of space was skewed. Your forehead butted against his cheek and Eddie had grinned when you mumbled “fuck, you’re really pretty.”

Now you were staring at his van door like it was a level on Crash Bandicoot that you hated. You had a furrow between you brow, a pout on your lips similar to the one you wore when you were trying to ‘make the stupid orange fox jump.’

“Eddie,” you whined, voice wavering. God, Eddie really hoped you weren’t about to cry. He hated it when you cried. “Eddie, the doors broken.”

The boy smothered another laugh, knowing the sound would probably send you over the edge. So he brought his keys out from his pocket, clicked the fob and watched the van lights flash.

“Try now, princess,” he coaxed gently. You pulled at the handle again, gasping excitedly when the door opened and you turned back to him, puffy cheeks and pleased at your accomplishment. “Atta’ girl,” Eddie praised.

You didn’t stop talking the whole way home, hell bent on making sure your hand stayed in Eddie’s, even when he needed to change gears or indicate. But every time the boy brought your hand to his lips for a quick press of a kiss, you hummed happily and forgot about prodding at your sore face, fingers dropping from your mouth to gaze at him all sleepy and fond.

When you were nearing your street, you gasped again, all panic and Eddie almost slammed on the breaks at the shock of it. “What? Shit, babe, what?”

“Did they take my tongue?” You asked, wide eyed and fearful. You dropped Eddie’s hand to poke at your mouth, tongue very much there and sticking out. “I specifically told them they weren’t allowed to take my tongue. Eddie!”

The boy managed to manoeuvre into your empty drive with one hand on the wheel, the other catching your wrist to stop you from pulling on your tongue. “Baby, baby, hey, nonono.”

Oh god, no, you were crying.

“Hey! Hey, sweetheart, look, no, you still have your tongue, okay? See?” Eddie gently took his chin in his hands once he put the van into park, coaxing your lips apart as if he was inspecting what was inside. “Yup, just like I said. Still there. One tongue, still attached.”

You sniffed, lip wobbling, chipmunk cheeks making you look entirely too adorable. Eddie was trying so, so hard not to laugh.

“It is?” You asked breathily. Another sniffle, a trembling chin.

“It is,” Eddie assured you. “Promise.”

…

[teencopandthesourwolf]

SNIPPET SUNDAY

tagged by the lovely @outtoshatter to take part. but it's monday! i hear you cry... yeah, sue me. this is a stiles's-perpetually-open-bedroom-window sterek wip fic that is growing incredibly s l o w l y but growing none the less.

.

"I'm gonna buy you a bell to wear around that thick neck of yours, 'wolf," Stiles threatens, and thinks he might actually mean it.

"You'd have to buy me a collar, first."

And—what?

Maybe Stiles isn't actually awake yet.

He thought he heard the sourwolf making a dog joke. Actually, forget the canine inclusion, that part doesn't even matter...

Derek Hale just made a joke.

Stiles must look incredulous as fuck because Derek's face softens a little. Hell, the big guy almost smiles, his smooth lips twitching adorably.

Stiles's frazzled brain needle scratches dramatically.

Then, it backtracks a little.

"Wait, how did you know I was having a nightmare?" he asks, momentarily puzzled. He wipes a clammy arm across his clammy face, waiting for his mind to whirr into action.

Derek must've—

Oh.

"Dude, were you hanging around outside my window?"

Derek looks shifty.

Well, shiftier than usual.

.

tagging, play or nay: @shealynn88 @sharkfish @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @ohhalefire @jmeelee @wolfspurr @nerdherderette and any others i can't think of rn that i should be tagging plus anybody else at all who wants to do the thing; just feel free to say i tagged you xp

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @cha-melodius and @stereopticons for the tags! I know I’ve done this in the past, but it’s been a hot minute…

How many works do you have on ao3?

239!

What's your total ao3 word count?

822,937—but that’s a collaboration-boosted lie. Per my writing tracker, words that I have personally written and published on AO3 is 693,613

What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly RWRB these days, but the majority of my back catalogue is Schitt’s Creek, with a few others sprinkled in for fun. The Pairing definitely made my brain whirr… we’ll see.

Top five fics by kudos:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), RWRB, 65.5k, the Much Ado About Nothing stage actor AU

Kinda think that I might be his type, RWRB, 12.8k, Alex and Bea fake date and Alex gets a little distracted by Bea’s brother

We were supposed to find this, RWRB, 3.3k, soulmate AU

We always walked a very thin line, Happiest Season, 2.7k, Riley character study/alternate ending

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, RWRB, 5.8k, barista Henry repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth in front of his coworker crush

(This is how I learned Puck It has been knocked out of my top five 😭)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! And absent a Schitt’s Creek resurgence of some kind that sees me absolutely inundated I don’t see that changing.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Five ways it could have ended (and one way it still could), Schitt’s Creek, 1.2k, for the love of god read the tags

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like… most of them? I love to end on a good HEA haha. For sheer joy, though, it’s probably With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

Do you get hate on fics?

From time to time. I’m very free with the delete button. Weirdly, it occasionally pops up in the AO3 comments but mostly seems to come to me via anons on tumblr??? I have no idea why.

Do you write smut?

It’s been known to happen, I guess 👀

Craziest crossover:

I haven’t written any AO3-era crossovers! A few fusions/media AUs, but no crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I’ve only been asked once, and they wanted to post off AO3 which is a big heck nope for me (and my permissions statement has now been updated to reflect that)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Heck yeah I have. I’ve done several anthology-type collaborations where we each wrote a chapter in a fic, and I’ve fully cowritten fics with @ships-to-sail several times. We have another collab coming up for @aroyallybigbangrwrb and I’m also cowriting The Big Secret AU with @indestructibleheart which is essentially us one-upping each other on emotionally devastating ideas until someone writes them down. Good system 😂

All time favorite ship?

Stop making pansexuals choose things.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the chances of kinktober 2021 being finished at this point are slim 😂

Schitt’s Creek kinkverse… I don’t know. I have little snippets written of future fics and they’re great but… idk. Maybe I’ll write one vignette-y wrap up fic one day.

What are your writing strengths?

Narrative POV, dialogue that feels like the characters, epistolary bullshit, smut apparently.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Coming up with actual plot lmao. Visual descriptors — I’m not even remotely a visual person so I really really struggle with writing the sorts of things people can visualise. Also like… the passage of time? A scam.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I’ll shoulder tap a fluent speaker if I need an actual sentence/anything Google isn’t super reliable for. Forever heartbroken that there are no fics in my second language in AO3 and no reason for me to be able to sprinkle it into my own writing (though one of the subscriber shindig prompts might be about to change that 👀)

First fandom you wrote in?

HP

Favorite fic you've written?

Stop! Asking! Pansexuals! To! Choose! Things!

I don’t know there are 239 of the bloody things 😂 I’m far more interested in what other people’s favourites are than what my own is!

I have no sense of who’s done this already so apologies if this is a double up but tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise @getmehighonmagic

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @nontoxic-writes

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play!

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

HI UM i'm so sorry if this question is strange, but do you have any advice on getting into writing fanfic? i simply CANNOT find anything on my silly little rockstar of choice & i fear i must take matters into my own hands 😭

your jpj fic is immaculate, so i thought i'd ask you! sorry if i'm being a bother asjskshsk

No apologies necessary, I'm honored to be asked :)

Taking matters into your own hands is a worthy cause when it comes to fanfiction and I'm glad to be of help on your FF journey.

What I would suggest is finding tropes, themes, or milieu that interest you to act as a springboard.

For instance, Wildflowers was born out of the simple thought, "What if the OC was the nanny?" Of course, we know how out of control that's gotten since.

Posing these ideas as questions to yourself allows for an entry point. Yes what if...

Since we're working with real folks as well, there's plenty of tinkering and googling you can do to give yourself even more jumping off points. For instance, I found a real estate agency that was selling Warren House at the time I started writing WF which provided me with a layout of the house as well as a setting that made my brain go whirr.

Thank you for your compliment as well, I appreciate your feedback 💝happy to share more on the subject should you have more specific questions etc.

[kb1301]

My brain calls forth for some Lord Shaxx loving Max... So I'm making another fic.

Special Treatment

"Only one minute left."

Lord Shaxx’s announcement echoed through Max’s sensors, his face in a grimace beneath the helm he wore as his team was losing to the opposing side.

It was a match of Control. Capture zones, protect them, and eliminate opponents. It was at first simple but only ever got more complicated as abilities were used and guns were firing about.

The battleground took place at The Citadel, within the Dreaming City. It was picturesque. The architecture was sublime and the environment proved to be wondrous— “Gah!” And he’s dead.

“Damn it.” Max had been too caught up with the scenery to even notice the approaching Titan and their strong jab to his head, knocking him to the ground and ending his momentum. And now he was revived by Spinner, his Ghost, back to their only territory. He let out a synthetic sigh at first before giving his gratitude to his greatest companion. “Thanks Spin.”

“Don’t mention it Max. Just do what you can!” His Ghost disappeared as he looked at the circumstances. He had his hand cannon at hand and a grenade launcher on the back. He scored some kills with the weapons, but even then he died more than he could’ve counted with only his digits. Then he took a moment to see the score, a sixteen point difference, and their opponents, fellow Guardians who honed themselves within the Crucible, were getting close to what they needed to win this match.

Another announcement came from the Crucible Handler, but Max was too focused to give a damn what his partner would say. He needed to get there and capture zones with his allies.

Looking decisively, he pursued a zone with his fellow Guardians, a Hunter and a Warlock, entering the middle ground to face off enemies attempting to capture B. Preemptively, he threw a suppressor grenade to his left, its trajectory bouncing and landing perfectly at two opponents he had yet to see. Feeling the impact, he raised his hand cannon and slid through to try and get a good shot at their heads.

One… two! “Ugh…”

Max had unfortunately, died again. His reflexes were subpar to not have seen a shotgun shoot at his face before getting stabbed with a knife from a Hunter.

In returning to the match, he had only heard the word that just made him grumble and shake his head.

“Defeat.”

He let out air through his mouthplates, the whirr of despondency.

“Not my element at all.” It was true. The Exo considered himself more of an explorer, a dutiful Warlock that went on his way to complete objectives for the sake of the Vanguard, the City and its people, and their allies throughout the solar system. He wasn’t a powerful brawler, an expert duelist, or an eagle-eyed marksman. He’s just him.

He already felt the presence of his fellow Guardians leave the battleground, leaving him alone at the moment.

”Well, might as well enjoy the place to myself.”

Max wandered through the Citadel, allowing himself to indulge in it without having to worry about zones or slapping Guardians with his palm. He paced around, summoning Spinner to accompany him as he viewed the scenery.

“This is nice—“ Ping. Ping. “That’s peculiar.” He turned to look at his Ghost. “Spinner, help me out with whoever’s trying to communicate with me?”

“It’s Lord Shaxx, Max.”

“Let’s talk then.” His optics conveyed a small joy from his partner calling him. He activated the comms between him and Shaxx through Spinner.

“Max! Where have you been my dear? You haven’t gone back to the Tower in a while.” A sound of concern can be detected from his voice.

The Exo chortled. “You don’t have to worry love. I’m just staying by the Citadel, enjoying the view.” He looked at the endless wisps of clouds that the Dreaming City had.

“Why are you still there? You know what, I’m going there. The Crucible will have to wait.”

“W-wait, you don’t have to—“

“Don’t tell me what to do Max. I’ll arrive shortly.”

The communication line ended between the both of them.

“Sounds like he really wants to see you.” Spinner suggested.

“Probably about my performance.” He looked down at the cliff, sitting down onto the ground and letting his legs dangle on it. He swung them about as he lounged, similar to what he had done back at the Bazaar’s rooftops.

“Maybe it has to do something about that, but I’m sure his concern is of you. Not how you did here.”

Max only nodded as an answer, his Ghost taking the hint as he hovered by him, the both of them gazing at the endless horizon of the Dreaming City.

And he stayed like this for a few more minutes… Until he heard Shaxx’s transmat onto the location, his boots stomping on the grass, approaching him. He then felt the former Warlord’s gaze. “Maximus.”

Spinner was summoned away as the Warlock stood up to meet his lover. “Hello.”

“Oh don’t ‘Hello’ me dear! I know you too well that you would brood yourself over your mistakes!” Shaxx immediately grabbed the smaller man into an embrace, resting his helm onto the metal pauldrons of Max’s battle robes.

“Y-you’re not upset?” The Exo said tentatively, surprised by the grabbing before melting into it.

“Why would I? Whether you were victorious with your allies or faced defeat against your opponents, what mattered to me the most is that you tried. That you fought. That you stood your ground.” Shaxx lifted him to further the embrace, letting their helmets face each other on the same level.

“I know. You’re very considerate love… but what I wanted was to make you proud. To show you that I can fight as well.” Max removed his helmet and let it fall onto the ground to pin his forehead (with his own horn) onto Shaxx’s helm, grabbing both sides of it with his hands.

“You did fight. As best as you could. I’m proud of that. I’m proud that you even tried to wrestle control of the zones despite the odds. I’m proud that you achieved defeating three of your fellow Guardians with that Nova Bomb!”

Max felt that if he could visibly blush, he’d blush right now. Instead, his cheeks heated up from the words, the temperature rising on the metal surface.

”You are?”

Shaxx brought the man down as he laughed warmly. “Of course! You are my favorite Guardian after all.” He felt the gloved hand caress his cheek as the Warlord gazed at him, presumably an affectionate one.

“Besides my Max, you already make me proud by being yourself. Whether it was in the Crucible or outside of it, like those missions you did for the Vanguard involving the ADUs, I’d still be proud of you.”

”I do tend to do better there.” Max chuckled, placing his hand onto Shaxx’s caressing one, closing his optics as he leaned into the comfort.

“I know you do.” He felt the thumbing over his features, making him weaker for the touch.

A moment of comforting quiet came, as Shaxx continued to thumb over the ridges and features of Max’s face.

“I’ll still… try.” The Warlock broke the silence. “Try and do my best at the Crucible.” He mumbled, moving the hand away to interlace it with his.

“That’s all I want from you my dear. To see you try. To never give up.”

Max’s mind was brought to peace with his lover’s words.

The partners looked at the clouds and the horizon of the Dreaming City, and faced each other one more time before they left the Citadel, keeping their hands locked together as they left for Earth.

[starkerhowlter]

Princess Parker -- 8

Rating: M Ship: starker (tony stark / peter parker) Tags: Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fashion Designer Peter Parker, Engineer Student Tony Stark, slow burn, stolen moments Summary: Tony Stark’s in love.

But not with the conventional. Instead, his soulmate is known for temper tantrums about pink lemonades that are too sour and scuffs on the toe of his Louboutin shoes. He’s materialistic, superficial, and cares way too much about his face.

So why can’t Tony stay away?

Read below or on AO3

As Always, this fic was beta'd by my favorite human in the world: @cozysafechaotic and I couldn't be more thankful! A special shout out as well to my sprinting goblins in the Super Starkers Discord for their believing in this fic and helping me through writing it and nailing down these crazy kids into their lovely selves. Thanks so much, guys.

I apologize for the lack of posting!! It's my last four weeks of university!! :o

8-- Advice Comes From Strange Places

        As soon as the door clicks shut, Tony’s mind is spiralling. "Fucking shit." He looks at the poster of Freddie Mercury, "What the hell was that? What did I just do? Did Peter fucking Parker come into my dorm and make out with me against the wall for..." He glances at the clock, "Forty-five minutes? Is it possible to hallucinate something that realistic while hungover?" He stares at the poster, hoping the rock god will reply with answers to the universe. "Fuck I'm not hungover, he's right. Which means... Peter fucking Parker came into my room and made out with me against the wall. Holy shit." He closes his eyes and the memories of the last hour replay in his head. One of his machines whirrs around, providing something for his brain to latch to as he thinks. 

He lays back on his bed, hands running through his hair. "March 8th, I called Peter art. March 9th, Peter comes to my dorm and calls me out on my feelings." March 9th, Peter Parker kisses me for forty-five minutes against the wall." he rolls over and looks at the wall, "Now what?" When he meets Freddy's eye again, he glares, "You are no use, y’know that?" He smiles. He is well and truly fucked.

Peter glances back at Tony's seat for the sixth time. By this point, Bucky is raising his eyebrow and giving him a "Can I help you?" expression. He blushes, turns back to his textbook and continues highlighting his notes in pink highlighter. Tony never came to class at all. Gwen, Nat, and Pepper keep glancing at their friend, what happened in the last hour? 

At the lunch table, Peter sips his pink berry smoothie, texting quickly. His manicured nails tap against the screen as he texts, they pause briefly and he sets his Starkphone down, the back of the crystal case glittering in the sun. "What was that about?" Loki asks, sitting their panini down in its container, "Is Harley giving you shit again?"

"No, no nothing like--" The phone chirps again, and without finishing the statement, Peter is absorbed in the phone once again. 

"Surely you're not texting--" Loki pushes.

"No. It's just my aunt." As if to prove itself, the offender chirps four more times in succession. He continues typing, smoothie melting on the table. "My collection just arrived. She was asking how I wanted it delivered." 

"Okay. I was just checking on you, you've been so secretive, Peter." Loki stands and hugs Peter, smiling softly, "I will come to see you later if you want to talk?"

"Yes," he whispers back, "Please do." 

"Bye, guys! Love your faces, see you for dinner?"

"I have a date!" Gwen shouts, "But raincheck! I will tell you guys about him tomorrow at brunch!" 

"Good luck, darling!" Peter cheers as he walks off the patio and to the sidewalk. He waves at his friends and heads to his dorm. He needs to think.

Tony's losing his ever-loving mind. Since Peter left, all he can seem to smell is Peter's cologne, and hear the echo of his gasps. He feels pathetic, trying desperately to wipe the feeling of Peter under his hands from his mind. 

Bucky is going to have to kill his friend. It's going to happen and no one will find his body. He shakes his head, opening the door to their dorm hall to hear Tony blasting rock from his room. "T!! Open up, it's Bucky!!" He smiles, hearing Tony's music shut off as he opens the door.

"Hey." he smiles, allowing the brunette into the now messy room.'

"Tony, when I said put on clothes, I meant real clothes. Not a tank and jeans." 

"I had on a shirt earlier. I took it off when I started soldering! I swear! It's literally on the chair!" Tony holds up the shirt, and smiles, "I was wearing a shirt!" 

"Why didn't you show up for class earlier?" 

"I was... Uh--"

"Don't you dare lie to me, Stark." Bucky only uses last names when he's serious, "I mean it." 

"Okay... fuck. You can't tell the guys." 

"Scout's honour. What's wrong?" He leans forward from his place on the bed and stares at Tony.

Tony takes a deep breath and the words start flowing, "Petercameoverandtoldmehelovedmeandthenwemadeoutandnowmylifeisfuckingruined, okay?"

"One more time, honey. I didn't get any of that."

Tony sighs deeper this time and tries again, "Peter came over and told me he loved me and then we made out and now my life is fucking ruined and I can never leave this room ever again." 

"Okay, I need you to breathe before you panic worse than you already are." He breathes along with the scientist, smiling gently. "Did you try that thing your therapist taught you?" Tony nods and shows him the paper, "And did that help?" He shakes his head. "No. Okay, um... can you walk me through your thought process as to why you can't leave your room ever again?" 

"Peter Parker. That's why. Weren't you listening?" 

"I am. But why can't you leave anymore, and don't just say Peter again." 

"Because if I see him again, I can't guarantee that I won't just jump the poor kid right then and there! You saw how I was at the party, I can't fucking do this anymore, Bucky. I can't just admire him from afar, I need him up close. I need him to be mine! I fucking love him, Bucky!" His heart is pounding as those words leave his mouth, "And I don't mean it in the "one and done" hookup way, I mean it in the "I want to wake up next to you and drink coffee and have mind-blowing sex on the counter way."

"Right. Remind me never to eat anything from your breakfast bar." 

"This is serious! I never felt this for Bethany, Pepper, Joan, Kenneth, or any of the others."

"I'm impressed you remember the one night stands."

"Of course I do, Bucky, I'm not an oaf." 

"I never said you were. But with the way this whole Peter thing is happening, I wonder if you have more than one brain cell. There is something there, and clearly, you two need to face it. Now, I have one question for you: Do I rent a hotel room for you or Do you want to suffer your whole life." 

Tony sighs, "Can I sleep on that?" 

"No. I need an answer now, you can't use your tricks on me." Tony sighs in defeat, flopping down on the bed next to Bucky. 

"Fuck. Um... Not yet but I will address it. It's only fair to him." Tony rises, replacing his tank with the t-shirt and heading to the door, "I will talk to him, Bucky. It might not create a relationship but it would be nice to have some connection with him or something."

"I will be back tomorrow. Go." His phone rings, proving his statement. "Hey, Stevie, I'm on my way out of the building. Yes, he's fine. I will see you shortly. Love you too." He hangs up the phone and smiles at Tony, "I will see you later. Talk to him, T. Please."

"I will." 

A soft knock at Peter's door startles him a few hours later. "Who is it?" He asks, slipping on his robe over his oversize t-shirt and shorts. 

"It's Loki!" they reply, "Can I come in?"

"Just a second!" He pauses his movie and unlocks the door, allowing his friend into the room, and inviting them to sit on the white chaise in the corner. "Sorry, I was watching a film." 

"It's alright. Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to make sure you were okay earlier. You said you needed to talk?" 

"Yes." He sighs, the events of the last 24 hours pouring out into the lap of his best friend. 

The black-haired fashion god sighs and squeezes Peter's knee, "You're gonna be okay. I know it's overwhelming. That's a lot to have happen to you in a 24-hour period. What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, Loki, but I need to see him again. I can't do this. If I see him again, I can't guarantee all of my feelings won't rush out into the space between us and ruin what we have built together. I don't think I can do this longing from a distance thing. I need to see him again, Lo. Can you help?" 

"Let me see what I can do." They smile, hugging Peter, "I will make it work for you guys and protect your social status. I know you worry that it'll be social suicide for anyone to see you. I don't think that's true. We're in college, Peter. No one cares." 

"I know but I just don't want people to ruin this. I want to have Tony but I don't want to ruin this magic that exists between us. It's a secret, like crossing enemy lines. I just want it to stay pure." 

"That's fair. I mean, I understand that. I know when Tony's friend Steve and Bucky first started dating, everyone wanted to know all the details."

"They hooked up in a bedroom at a party," Peter says, disinterestedly.

"That's true. But everyone was asking Bucky what Steve did to make him scream so loud."

"Like it matters." 

"That's fair. But in all seriousness, I will figure out how to arrange for you to  see each other in private." 

"Thank you, Loki." 

"No problem, Peter. It's what friends are for." They hug Peter, before heading towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Bye, Loki. I really do owe you one." 

  Peter smiles, shutting the door and turning the lights off. His movie watches from the TV as he flops on the couch and picks up his phone. Why didn't he think to add Tony's number to his phone? 

"I wonder..." Peter smiles and opens Instagram, hoping that typing the boy's name in will show his page. "Tony... Stark..." He presses search and a few moments later Tony's page appears in the results. He rolls his eyes at the bio 'Legacy is for losers' and scrolls through the different photos and snapshots from Tony's life. He clicks on one picture of Tony underneath a car and finds himself staring for longer than he'd like to admit. He sighs and shuts his movie off, crawling into bed. 

--

Thank you so much for reading!!! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are MUCH appreciated!

[flowers-of-io]

for the ask meme: 🥳💕🌻?

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

Haha—the sims! I’m not kidding. At first I was just hooked by the crumbs of lore strewn here and there, in characters’ bios or neighbourhood objects, this world attracted me so immensely with its mystery; it felt like there was something there, a story untold that I could only attempt to dig out but would never fully know. It was a very… sorrowful experience? And I was barely seven when I started playing, and so many things in the game confused and overwhelmed me, and in some way that too added to the mystery. Then TS3 came out and it introduced book titles! An open world with props like an abandoned mine entrance with two red eyes peering at you from the darkness! I remember the wall posters, with their funky object descriptions telling little stories, and how inspired I was by that. The book titles made my brain whirr. I got TS3 World Adventures for my 9th birthday and just—man, the vibe of three different locations you can’t “normally” play in, with their secrets and side quests and new books and the terrifying dungeon locations with traps and mummies and skeletons (that you couldn’t remove even with cheats) on the ground. Sims Medieval, and all the hidden bits of untold stories there (plus the amount of lore that came with that game, I mean—we got a confirmed DEITY now!). I discovered Simspedia and the machinima/filmmaking community in 2011, and began reading up on the canon stories, and by then my fate was sealed.

I kept the stories in my head, mostly, and played them in my head before sleep (oh boy the Pleasantview one had so many parts and all of them were titled. Do you ever keep notes for stories that are only supposed to existi in your brain? I did—). I had a playlist of songs to imagine very detailed AMVs to. I got into video editing because of that game. I don’t remember which story was the first to actually be written down, but my best guess is that four-parts one (I think I only ever wrote part 1, BUT I did finish it!) going with the theory that Murder in Pleasantview had actually been written by The Alexander Goth and sent back in time, and in the fic Bella gets her hands on it and finds out about the inevitable tragedy that’s gonna befall her in the future. It was so over the top and I made Jocasta an absolute monster of a mother while in reality all she did was trying to protect her 10 years old daughter from an existential crisis, but tbf I was 11 at that time, so my point of view was a bit skewed. I wrote that story in a notebook, mainly during classes (because that’s what I did in classes for most of my school life to be honest), and I’m pretty certain I’ve still got that cringefest somewhere bc I never throw anything out. So, there. TL;DR Bella Goth made me write fanfics (sort of).

💕 What is your favourite fic that you’ve written?

AAAAAaaaa I don’t know! It’s so hard to type one, and me coming from The Sims fandom makes most of my fics end up suspended in this no man’s zone between original and fanfic… It’s so hard to decide because most of those I’m the most soft and nostalgic for are not even good. Strangetown, maybe, because it ran for 25 chapters and taught me so much about how (not) to write? That scene from PLU with Frances McCullough femme fatale’ing Bella, definitely one of the best scenes I ever shot? The colours there—! Oh and the Hawaii evening one. I think that’s my favourite favourite. Just a handful of demigods, dead people, and anthropomorphised concepts meeting up to drink and play cards in a Hawaiian tavern. I wrote it in one evening solely for myself, never to publish it, and it still makes me smile with nostalgia when I remember it.

Out of my recent Destiny ones, because I assume that’s what y’all are here for, I’d say… Eugtutghsth don’t make me choose it’s a tie between nothing’s fair in love and war and Small Knives. Neither of them is perfect and I already see so many things I could improve, but the premise of each—and the ‘missing scenes’ kinda vibe—wins my heart over, and now that I’ve written them I can’t imagine not having written them, you know? Love & War in particular. There just doesn’t exist an AU where that scene didn’t happen, it’s the nexus of my personal canon.

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

Quite often, I think! I like coming back to the older ones once I’ve forgotten the details a bit, and I’m genuinely proud of my writing atm (a rare occurrence), so it’s like, wow good phrasing there Izzy! *pat pat* Oh no this line is so cringe, change it right now or I’m gonna have a stroke.

[horanghoe]

warm milk & honey - SKZ fic

A/N: I just realised I forgot Han ^ I am screaming

Pairing: OT7/reader

Rating: PG friendly (with a friendly warning of poly / multiple person relationship).

Genre: POLY!SKZ / Fluff / Very slight angst & mentions of bad sleep patterns.

Word Count: 3.6k exactly, my doods

Summary: A restless night, ultimately remedied by your sweet baby man angel boys. Or alternatively: Istg if Jisung makes one more weird noise imma end this man’s whole life no cap, Binnie hold me back -

Back to ~ SKZ Masterlist

Back to ~ Main Masterlist

Special Mentions <3

 @domjaehyun​ for being a yoghurt eating legend that takes a year to respond ASKDJF ILY BICH//

@seowoos​ for inspiring this whole damn thing & helping me feel more comfortable w publishing more niche content models. Even if it’s just cheesy enough for the two of us <3 //

@chocolvte​ for being another OG on this list, n just generally being a sweet bean <3 baby girl ur reactions were the second inspiration to get me INTO SKZ in the first place. ily uwu // 

and lastly, surprise @mikoto-ica-fics​ !! You were the last part of the equation that got me to write smin for these boys. I binged practically all your fics in two nights bby, keep making michellin star fics <3

Tonight wasn’t working out quite as you had expected.

To be honest, it was fucking shit.

Well, the night itself was okay. In terms of activities. An evening in with your boyfriend, Chan.

Just you two versus the world. The poor boy was so tired that honestly, it had only consisted of a walk through the park to grab snacks, and returning to the empty dorm to laze around the whole evening. A Netflix date with some *ahem* late night fun to settle you both into a deep, restful state.

It was brilliant, fantastic. Until it wasn’t.

Until you lay painfully awake in his bed and suffocated in the dark silence and space between you. It wasn’t Chan’s fault; the obnoxious whirring of electronics made your head spin, tiny flashing lights and minute feelings of unease at the cupboard door leaning open; all made it virtually impossible to sleep.

It was too cold. Too hot. You were so comfortable, melted into the mattress. But it was swallowing you and your claustrophobia was starting to make you twitch. Moving off of your angelic boy’s limbs, you shimmied to the cooler side of the bed.

He stirred a little, before settling on turning away, onto his side. Phew. At least you hadn’t woken him. It wasn’t like you were trying to be selfish, but fuck. This was insufferable.

Every time you looked at the clock you were sure it slowed down - balls, at this point it could’ve skipped back an hour and you wouldn’t have batted an eye. Mostly because if they weren’t checking the clock, they were staring dead straight up at the ceiling.

Eh. Ugh. Fuck. I can’t sleep.

That’s all your brain could think. Stuck - monotone and on a never-ending loop.

It seemed like everything you had ever thought was swimming around in your brain like some kind of primordial juice. Feelings and emotions swelling and bloating in your belly until they settled.

And then a car passed outside, and everything started to swell up again.

Chan was on his side, turned away and peacefully gaining some shut-eye. He was only lightly sleeping though, that much you could tell. His body gently lifting, then falling with breath. Like you; he often struggled to sleep deeply, usually not lasting very long when he did manage to.

You were so pissed.

How dare he sleep. And look so good doing it. Even just his bareback looked hot as shit - here you were, a messy, greasy big toe wrestling with your stupid ape brain to shut off the useless brain thoughts, next to this slice of heaven - just, ugh existing so perfectly.

“Oh my god, this is torture.” You cursed quietly into the dead space.

Maybe the frustration was all from hormones?

Nah, fuck that. Feminism and all that jazz. That’s just part of the human condition, babycakes. Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.

No, what it was, was the constant whirring coming from the TV screen and Felix’s PlayStation tower and large monitor. The tiny little flashes, whirrs, huffs from the fan and rotating lights. It was driving you abhorrently insane. FUCK.

“Chan? Channie, baby, are you awake?.” You whispered into the air. His breath faltered a little, stirred mostly by your movement to groan, gruff and flip the duvet off your hot, sticky body. Gentle though you tried to be, it was still enough to wake his fuzzy brain.

“Chan, please. I’m sorry babe but that TV is driving me fucking insane.” Your voice was too alert and frustrated for him not to stir. His heart panged a little at the distress laced in your tone.

“Please, Channie. I’m so sorry…”

He rolled on his back to look at you. Slowly, and with much effort. He groaned softly before wiping his eyes and leaving his arms above his head.

“Hey.” He whispered, warmly smiling.

“Don’t be sorry – can you not sleep again, baby girl?” Chan asked softly, watching you sit stiffly upright. His deep voice made your heart flutter, nodding as he groaned. He smiled despite any resentment you may have allowed him to feel. Resting his warm palm against your rib as he muttered a response - you excused his fumbled words for definition - so tired he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You can turn it off, yeah?” Chan sighed.

What he meant was ‘You know how and where to turn it off, without messing up the whole system like last time, right?’. You nodded quickly, squeezing his bicep lightly before slipping from the exposed mattress.

Dashing up to scramble behind the low TV unit and find the one wire to end it all. Your infernal pain that was.

He watched you, letting his eyes rest occasionally. Truth was, you looked so beautiful to him when you were concentrating on something. For example, pulling out the HDMI cord triumphantly. And holding in a small squeal (scream), of relief when the high pitched buzzing cut out with a slight electronic fuzz. He chuckled, not missing your little feet pattering in step with a tiny little victory pump.

“Yes. Fuck. The noise, it’s gone!” Chan chuckled softly, keeping his arm outstretched until you landed beside him. Pulling you toward him, under the covers.

“Yeah, you really got that wire Y/N. Showed it who’s the boss, huh?” His tired enthusiasm outweighed his sarcasm, owning a soft kiss to the cheek as you clambered over the bed, only to flop with a weighted sigh straight down onto his shoulder.

He giggled, smiling with a yawn as he tucked his arm against your ribs, tucking you up against his chest in a bearhug.

You fell asleep quickly; soft breaths and just the presence of Chan's being, enough to satiate the gnawing ache in the back of your brain.

And it was peaceful. Restful. Warm, and so pleasant.

Until it wasn’t.

Turns out tonight wasn’t your night. The clock read 1:28 am – and the boys were due to come home from practice any moment now. To be honest they were pretty late.

Chan had originally had the day off, hence the chance for you to be led here in his arms. But you were starting to think it really hadn’t made that much of a difference.

It wasn’t just the high pitched whirring that had aggravated you, but now the uncomfortable heat radiating from Chan's body. The small whoosh of cool air against your neck at any vehicle that passed by. Or just the evening breeze. You groaned softly, dropping your head back to Chan’s chest with a soft thud, lulling back into a light and unrestful sleep.

Ten minutes or so passed. Waking from a fuzzy dream, you were disorientated. The worst dreams always happened in short little bursts. Like little hellish fever dreams.

The clock now read 1:39 am and the time between minutes was becoming unbearable. Too long to bear . You had to move. Speak. Scream. Cry. Kick. Do something.

Peeling off Chan’s arm, and replacing yourself with a large fluffy pillow, you left your lover to rest. You dread to think that it would be able to replace you, but hey, at least it wouldn’t move like one big fat sweaty ferret, right?

Sigh. Sad times.

You abandoned Chan for the disgustingly bright hallway. Seeking new comforts, from whoever would take you. The boys were home; noises of beings floating down the hall, past Chan’s room.

By the time you had gathered the strength to rise off the bed though – blinking away the stars and excited little lines in your vision and raising enough chi to move your soul, and body upwards off of the bed – an inkling of tiredness was starting to itch into your consciousness.

You ached to be held. Loved.

You weren’t sleepy enough to get back into his bed though. Though; you missed Chan’s body as soon as you had tumbled yourself away from it.

---------

Fetching your favourite fluffy square pillow and putting on one of Chan’s big shirts, you padded out and into the hallway. The door closed behind you with a soft putt, pillow tight against your belly.

The tired but comfortingly loud voices of your other lovers were coming from the kitchen.

You wobbled forward, groaning to yourself as your thighs began to ache. Just from being alive, you guessed. Your thighs tingled your skin into little chilly goosebumps, a shiver sparking down your spine.

Maybe the heat of Chan’s bed wasn’t so bad, you began to consider. Before a voice echoed down to where you were slowly walking from.

“Ya – hold up, I’ll grab my jumper then we can watch that stupid shit-film you were on about earlier?” You heard Jisung shout over the kitchen to the boys gathered on the sofa.

The boys muttered some form of agreement and before you could process it, the firm but soft body of Han Jisung had swung right around the corner and straight into your zombie path.

Being conscious, and not half-dead like you, he was able to stop abruptly in front of you and step back a little. The shock of a body blocking his path was quickly masked with warm love as he cooed at the sight of you.

“Y/n-ieeeeee look at youuuu~” He whispered loudly, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you firm against his body.

His presence eased you, despite the chaotic energy he may have appeared to have. He was just one big squirrel with muscles. The perfectly-right size to pull you against him, your neck flopping so skin met skin, cheek to shoulder in that white sleeveless shirt of his.

You melted into his caring touch, groaning when he gave a squeeze and actually, not hating how firmly he held you. For a moment, he seemed to be just quietly accepting your unspoken words. Night-long grief expressed in the way you clung to him.

Eventually, he asked the inevitable questions, though.

“Baby, why aren’t you asleep? Hmm, pretty? It’s like, 2 am already!” He exclaimed softly, somewhat conscious of Chan’s sleeping presence down the hall. And your zombie-eardrums.

You couldn’t answer, instead, you let him pull you away so he could peer down at your head against his shoulder. The pillow was a soft barrier between you, though he removed it to place it softly on the floor.

“As cute as you look in Chan’s top right now, baby, this hallway is pretty cold. Gosh damn, your legs are shaking so much. How long have you been standing out here princess? Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” He squeezed you against him once more - rubbing his warm palms against your trembling, shivering thighs.

As he stood back up you groaned again, reluctant to articulate how badly you just wanted to be softly touched. Not aggressively rubbed. Even if you appreciated the notion, it was cutely awkward. Your expression made him laugh softly, tucking hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your cheek, head, forehead.

“You okay though? Wanna come sit with us?” You nodded quickly, body flopping into his hold as soon as his arms went to lift you. Your head rested on his shoulder, Jisung’s body dipping to lift you and wrap your knees around his hips. He was such a careful, sweet baby boy.

“Ya – come on you big baby, you. Who do you want to be delivered too for the meantime, huh? I gotta go change out of my gym stuff.”

“Hyunjin-ah... please...” You mumbled airily. Despite how unused your voice was, it was sweet as honey. He smiled, responding with a soft “Sure" before turning back to where he had come from. Heart warmed by the opportunity to care for you, even if for just a moment.

And even though he was a bit sticky – and the thought ‘yuck' registered quickly in your half-conscious brain – you didn’t mind the smell. Or the languid way he carried you.

You nuzzled against his neck, groaning once more as his entrance was announced to the room. A loud “Han Jisung's Special Delivery Service!” was projected, I.N. slipping by with a quick ruffle of your hair before moving to turn down the hall, into his room. The boys looked up at the noise and your entrance into the room, immediately softened by the sight.

You, entirely snuggled against a buoyant Jisung, that held you so carefully against his chest. Messy hair tucked under his chin; your eyes were puffy, sore, and barely open as he came into the centre of the soft-lit room.

“Nawww – cuuuutieeee~” Changbin cooed, Lee Know giggling as Seungmin stepped forward to kiss your cheek, sweetly brushing hairs away from your face. The proximity to Jisung didn’t seem to spook his intimacy.

Your eyes fluttered close from the embrace, Seungmin smiling to himself at his ability to soothe you. Even just a little.

“That’s a funny looking jumper, Ji.” Seungmin quipped, before adding a quick “Hi Y/N.” With a small squeeze of your cheek, before heading toward the kitchen.

“Hyunjin-ah you have a special request delivery here, where shall I put her?” Jisung questioned, approaching the sofa nimbly.

Hyunjin smiled, shuffling a little before holding out his arms, patting his lap.

“Right here~” you heard, before feeling gravity weigh at your back. You got off early, aided by Jisung and Hyunjin’s hands on your hips. Quietly you yawned, turning to a barefaced beautiful boy, smiling at you cutely.

Jisung pecked a kiss on your shoulder before passing, leaving to go sort himself out.

Hyunjin smiled up at you with a coo, pulling you down towards him with his long limbs. With you laying, legs tangled above him he wiggled back so you could lay comfortably on his chest.

He kissed your cheek before tucking your forehead against his chin, your eyes slowly bobbing open and shut as his calm vibe washed over you. Changbin shared some of your weight on the somewhat roomy sofa; kissing your hair softly and curling against you to keep you warm.

The television was on a late-night MC show playing. Though it registered to you as white noise. The boy’s voices over you were soothing, even if they edged a little loud occasionally.

At some point, you had started to drift off again. For the most part, Hyunjin was a gentle giant anyways. So despite his resistance to skinship, your body (and some of the boys), was never left out in terms of body-pillow-comforts.

Meaning, he treated your limbs like a very bony pillow he could encapsulate entirely.

You weren’t sure where the others were. Or what part of the sofa you were even on. You figured the end since the guys had their feet up. But you didn’t mind. It was safe. Here, in their arms. Against their bodies.

Even the bright overhead lights of the kitchen and hallway weren’t enough to stop you lulling into sleep.

At a later point, you awoke again with a startle – Jisung shushing your tired whines with a kiss as he jumped onto the sofa to your left, a little too enthusiastically. Hyunjin moaned like a brat, ultimately having a play fight underneath you until you mustered up a death stare to end all squabbles, ever. Period. Jisung settled, intertwining your fingers on Hyunjin’s belly until your breath softened. Falling into a weak slumber once more.

Once again; your sleep was great. Perfect. Until it wasn’t.

An abrupt jostle of Hyunjin jolting to stop spilling the food he held above your head, was met with an unattractive grunt of pure disgust on your part. Eyes squinted, head wrinkled and body tense, you were once again awake.

“Sorry baby! I didn’t mean to wake you!” Hyunjin whined, too loudly next to your throbbing head. Changbin noticed your tense limbs and pulled you backwards against his chest. This merely caused another squabble to ensue between them - who held the right to hold you, like a fluffy comfort blank.

Suddenly everything was bothering you again.

Their constant jostling and boyish movements were just too much. You pulled up from Changbin. Avoiding the tugging, whining, needy arms and hands from Hyunjin to stand weakly once more.

Frustrated. Tired. And all coupled with a reasonably ugly scowl weeping over your face.

They were so engrossed in their silly little arguments, little kicks, punches and teasing laughter, that they barely even noticed your sluggish movements to get up.

Until you were on your feet. Your body heat sapped from them in a bitter attempt at being sour. Hyunjins hands immediately flew out to steady you. Changbin pouting but ultimately letting you retreat once more.

“Y/Nieeee~ Come baaack, I didn’t mean it. Come lay back down, baby~” Hyunjin whined warily, the other two boys still giggling amongst themselves. You swatted against the tiredness on your face, grumbling before stumbling backwards.

You made it a few steps before you folded over on impact at hitting the kitchen table. The table thudded on impact and the boys winced, watching your face scrunch up in pain immediately.

A new pair of hands caught you this time, stuttering before lean arms caught you.

“Woah! Careful there pretty girl, nearly took the whole bloody table out. You okay?”

Felix's. Soft, caring and most importantly soft voice and calm motions of support waved over you in a way that gave you immediate comfort. You rested your head against his chest as he tugged you up, body slumping into him with an inaudible impact. He giggled, despite your weighted movements, speaking lowly with that deep, tired voice of his.

“Y/N, you silly sausage, are you alright?” He prompted quietly, leaning his head down to capture your whines and huffs of pain.

“Owww, my butt… That hurt~” You groaned, not minding his giggles but sending a puffy glare to the others snickering away on the sofa.

The table (or your idiot bulldozer body), had set a deep ache right into the cheek of your butt. Your hand kneaded it gently before Felix’s hand quickly replaced yours, rubbing and squeezing softly until your face scrunched, the pain subsiding.

“Ouch.” You whispered, peering up at him with a pout. He kissed your nose cutely with a little eruption of giggles, helping you crack a pouty smile.

“Come on, cutie.” He mumbled before grabbing your hand to guide you slowly into the kitchen. “I could kiss it better?” He prompted, ultimately softening at your lack of response. You were so morgue-ish you hadn’t even registered his words. Letting him tug you blindly as your eyes struggled to stay open.

You could barely register his hands, pressing at your waist. Weakly managing to hold on as he lifted you on top of the counter. Squinting, you could see the clock read 2:23 (am) on the cooker. Ugh. What a night.

You’d feel shit in the morning. But that was nearly impossible to think about with the way Felix was holding you right now. Like a baby. Or a puppy. A little ball of fluff.

He kept some form of contact as he moved around you – a hand to the knee or his hip between your legs. Or even lips against your hairline, using the counter space around you to do something. What he was doing, you were tired to even care.

“You know what used to help me Y/N? When I couldn’t sleep at night?” He prompted gently. You shook your head, pulling back with a weak sway

“Warm milk and honey!” He exclaimed quietly. Too cute for his own good. You smiled, and he pulled you against his chest to kiss your cheek and giggle delicately.

“You want some? Then we could try to sleep? You look like you need some shut-eye, baby. Don’t wanna miss out on that beauty sleep! If you want - we can always sleep in – just call in sick? Your boss is honestly so nice, I'm sure she won’t mind. You say you’re always working through lunch breaks anyway?”

Despite his rambling, you just nodded. Tired eyes once again resting as the hum of the radiator, the vibration of his chest eased your brain. Your head tucked so right underneath his chin. His palms folded behind your lower back.

At some point, Changbin had appeared. Sweeping a thumb over your forehead before kissing you sweetly, cheek resting on Felix’s shoulder.

“I love you, princess. Sorry for waking you.” He had whispered against your lips. “Mmm-I-love-you-too-Binnie~” You managed in one tumbling sentence. In fairness, the touch would've probably led you both somewhere (the bedroom), if you weren’t in such a zombie-like state.

“Sure thing, pretty.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your puffy cheeks before retreating. He let you both be, cold marble beneath your thighs now warmed by your constant body heat. You passed out pretty quickly against Felix’s chest. Cocooned, safe.

What you did miss in your deep, deep sleep was the way they carried you.

Felix physically, to their shared room. Changbin carrying your drinks and fetching your favourite pillow from the hall.

And what you heavenly missed in the night; they made up to you in the morning.

And the next night. And the night after that.

Because even though you occasionally suffered restless nights, you knew one of them would always be there to catch you.

And you’d do the same for them.

P.S. Fuck Chan’s wiring system. Extension cables were the bane of your nightly living. *holds up fingers in a cross and hisses*

well would you look at that: updated 03/OCTOBER/2021

[disastrouslyyours]

Hi! Same anon from earlier today. Thank you so much for the warm welcome! As for a drabble request, let me think here… To me Spamton Neo makes such a good switch. 😳 Despite his intimidating appearance and size, it’s so cute to see him be the lee but as soon as the tables turn, oh boy… 😳💦

I haven’t really seen any tickle fics of Spamton Neo with the Addisons yet. 🤔 What if for whatever reason Spamton Neo is caught up in those strings and he’s found by one of the Addisons. At first the Addison tries to help free Sneo but accidentally discovers a little weakness. So they have a bit of fun at Sneo’s expense until he can’t take it anymore and rips himself from the strings. Now Spamton Neo is free and has some spare ropes he could use… That would then be a good time for that Addison to RUN! 😆 (Not so sure they can outrun a vengeful robot with way longer legs than them though…) I dunno, just an idea… 😳👉👈 😆

BESTIE THIS TOOK AGES BC IDK HOW TO CONTROL MYSELF. Drabble Requests more like "Catt can't write less than 1k words" Challenge smhhh.

Also for reference Del is a blue Addison and Surv is an orange one. Idk man my brain gave them names and I haven’t been able to change them?

Hate myself for starting this like a real fic and then making it Cursed. /j (im kidding this was fun!!)

When whispers spread through the city about a certain washed up sleazy salesman finally getting the “big break he deserved”, Del tried his best to ignore them. That lasted all of five minutes before he abandoned his station to go and find Surv, the only other individual he figured he could convince to scope things out with him. Luckily Surv agreed, having heard the rumors himself, and was en route to find Del to ask him the same question.

The pair tried to convince themselves that it was just gossip, that there was no way he actually was able to scam some poor soul into going through with his outlandish plan, right? As they charmed their way past mansion security, there was no ignoring the anxious hushed whispers from the various mansion workers.

They’re saying he finally made it, I don’t know how he would’ve managed to sneak by us.

He’s not exactly a quiet or subtle man, it’s probably a false alarm.

Still, Swatch did seem a little extra…reserved when I asked them about it. They denied it, of course…

I didn’t even think we had a basement! This is probably someone’s bad idea of a joke.

Although…what if it’s not?

The “what if’s” were all but suffocating Surv as he tried desperately to swallow his own guilt. Wordlessly the pair descended the stairs to a basement they never hoped existed, neither one wanting to admit their hand in the series of events that led them to this moment. If this moment was anything; they still had yet to find evidence to support the rumors.

Their answer came in the form of a deep rumbling sound accompanied by two different colored spotlights flooding the hallway, casting long shadows of themselves behind them. Del felt his heart shatter and turned to look at Surv for guidance, who had an unsettling grimace tightly drawn on his face. Before either had a chance to speak up, an all too familiar voice rattled out of the massive figure dangling at the end of the hall.

“GOD [&@$%*^!] DAMN IT.” There was no denying that, even if bass boosted and reverberated to hell and back, this voice belonged to none other than Spamton G. Spamton. Del found the strength to take a couple steps closer, wincing at every industrial whirr and hiss that came from the massive robot in front of him. It appeared to be tangled in a mess of thick, green cords, desperately twisting and turning in attempts to free itself. He nearly faints when the robot turns to face him head on, its face confirming that the rumors were definitely true.

“COME TO [Laugh Track] AT YOUR [Old Pal-] SPAMTON G-G-G S-SPAMTON?” A thick puff of steam hisses out of the corner of his mouth as he fitfully tugs at an arm, only managing to ensnare himself in his own wires even more so than before.

“No…no.” Del clears his throat, struggling to find his voice as he turns his head back to a frozen Surv. He nods his head to signal Surv to join him, who reluctantly makes his way closer. “We came to see the rumors were true. Which…” He swallows thickly as Spamton twists his neck at unnatural angles to look him in the eyes. “I-it seems like they are.”

Spamton’s expression lights up at the mention of rumors and he cries out in delight, the sound piercing and shrill as it reverberates off the walls.

“YOU DOUBTED ME, DIDN’T BELIEVE I’D ONCE AGAIN BE A [BIG SHOT].” Spamton continues to contort his body, most likely in an attempt to free himself, and it’s becoming too much for Del to stand.

“No, I never doubted you.” Del gingerly takes a step forward, trying to steal his nerves as best he can. He doesn’t necessarily have a plan outside of “try to cut him loose”, but he figures he’ll think of something in the moment. Addisons are nothing if quick witted, he reasons with himself as he continues to shuffle closer to his former friend. Spamton manages to free an arm and uses it to scoop Del up in his hand. Del nearly faints from the whiplash alone, never mind out of basal fear, as he is held right in front of an uncanny valley rendering of his friend’s face.

“DON’T LIE T0 M3, DEL.” Spamton shakes the man in his hands a little. “YOU ALWAYS D0UBTED ME. NEVER WANTED TO SEE ME [Make It Big], YOU WERE [Make Your Friends Green With Envy] JEALOUS.”

“He’s not lying, Spamton.” Surv calls from the ground, hoping to mask the nervousness in his own voice. “We might’ve been jealous, but we never doubted you. We always just wanted what was best for you…and right now, this doesn’t seem like a best case scenario.” Surv gestures towards the numerous green cables tangled around Spamton’s limbs.

Spamton grunts and tugs at the restraints. “I AM NOT [Case Closed] TANGLED.” He does not prove his point as another cable ensnares itself around his ankle.

Del attempts to wriggle out of Spamton’s grasp, surprised when he’s able to do so. Balancing himself on Spamton’s closed fist, he leans against his head for support. “Let us help you, please. Big Shots deserve to be free of their strings, don’t you think?”

Spamton considers this for a moment, the only sound in the hallway that of the oversized cooling fans inside his new body working overtime. The implication of ridding himself from the one thing standing between him and his freedom was all too tempting an offer.

“D34L.” He chirps, and Del scrambles onto his head to assess the situation. He stares up at the ceiling only to find it missing, the thick green cables seeming to descend from an impossible height. The only way would be to cut them, and he hoped that would be enough. Del crouches on Spamton’s back, grabbing a string in one hand and giving an experimental tug while he steadies himself by holding onto a massive wing with the other. As soon as his fingers curl around the inner corner, Spamton shudders with a shriek.

“Does this hurt?” Del releases his grip on the cable, worried that Spamton can feel the force he exerted on it. Spamton shudders again when Del tightens his grip on his wing, and for a moment Del thinks that it looks like he’s laughing.

“He isn’t hurt, he’s just the same old sensitive Spammy he’s always been.” Surv snickers, squeezing the soft plastic that made up Spamton’s knee. He attempts to jerk his leg away, but finds it more or less stuck in place with the unnatural angle the string suspends him at.

“NO, [Wait There’s More!], LET’S CONSIDER THIS!” Spamton rattles his body, attempting in vain to free himself before the Addisons can continue down this train of thought. He can’t stop himself from flinching when he feels Del hook his hands under each wing’s inner corner, nor can he stop the static-filled giggles from rumbling out of his voice box when Del’s fingers start to scratch.

“You’re right, Surv, he is the same old Spamton, even in this garish form.” Del teases, laughing a little himself at the absurdity of the situation.

“How lucky for him that we came to his rescue. Look how happy he is to see us!” Surv continues to press into the soft part of the back of Spamton’s knee, as Spamton tries to twist his leg out of Surv’s reach.

“NO, W-WAIT, [Ceasefire Requested]!” Spamton laughs as he tries to shake off the two prodding figures, not quite finding the humor in this discovery the way they did. He feels Del scratch the spot directly in between his wings and he shrieks, twisting himself in a way that his sharp sheet metal wings slice through several of his suspensions. Thrown off balance, he somehow manages to catch himself (albeit by lying on the floor) while also managing to secure Del in his hand so as to not accidentally crush him. The three are quiet for a moment, Del and Surv in a horrified silence as they wait with baited breath to see the consequence of their actions. Spamton shuffles himself, horrible noises of metal scraping metal filling the air, until he is kneeling with Del still trapped in his hand. He shakes and stretches his wings, genuinely surprised that he can move after severing the strings. He turns his spotlight eyes to Surv, who exhales when he sees Spamton is more or less alright.

“Rescue him we did, wouldn’t you say, Surv?” Del calls out as he feels Spamton’s grasp slightly tighten around him.

“I’d say so.” Surv swallows as Spamton keeps an unwavering gaze on him, slowly bringing his body to a standing position as he adjusts to the feeling of being 30ft tall and drunk on freedom.

“IF TH<AT’S WHAT YOU [Call For You!] IT.” He cracks a wicked grin that sends shivers down both Addison’s spines. Surv briefly debates turning to run, but Spamton was quicker on the draw and scooped him up in his other hand. “GRANT ME [FREEDOM] YOU DID, BUT IF YOU [Asking the Big Questions] ME, I’D SAY WE HAVE A [Overstock] LOT TO CATCH UP ON. A LOT OF LOST [Time is Money] TO MAKE UP FOR.”

Surv and Del exchange nervous glances, for once in their lives neither of them can think of anything to say. Luckily, Spamton helps them out, and they find their voices in the form of laughter as he digs an oversized thumb into each of their midsections.

Lots of lost time to make up for, indeed.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XVI

Jason is a CEO: Part XVI

okay wow it has been a hooottt minute since i’ve updated a multi-chap fic and an even hotter minute since i’ve updated this one. so here’s a recap:

jase and zoe broke up, because she is being forced by her father to marry someone else (who that may be is yet to be revealed). jason has finally had enough and at the insistence of his friends he packs up on a holiday to Panarea (in italy) where he is delightedly shocked to discover Percy Jackson is currently working, and oh no.....would you look at that......the hotel messed up their reservations and now they have to share the same room, and the same bed. lmao they’re dorks.

here’s how the last chapter ended:

“Let’s just stay together? We’re friends. We know each other, we trust each other, and it’ll be less hassle than trying to find a room for either of us.”

“But there’s only one bed?” His brain was short-circuiting.

It shut down altogether when the man before him smirked. “Well i can keep my hands to myself, if you promise to.”

“I-” What is stopping him from saying yes? Why should he say no?

“It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Percy’s expression was so gentle, and it turned every weathered rock in Jason to gemstone.

“Yes.” He said firmly. “Let’s share the room.”

It was only when they got back to the hotel did Jason realise they were still holding hands. He wondered if they’d find each other like that in their dreams too. They did.

masterlist; my links

Jason awoke to an arm slung over his waist and soft breaths fanning the bare skin of his back. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing with it the heat that was sure to get unbearable. He thought he’d feel uncomfortable with someone touching him in weather like this but Percy seemed to be cool, and gods did he look cute with his messy black curls, and brown skin that absorbed rays of light and turned it into magic.

They had promised each other that they’d keep to their sides of the bed and refrain from mauling one another in the night, but it seemed like they had gravitated together anyhow. And Percy was certainly a cuddler. 

A knock sounded and with groaning realisation he saw the clock on the wall read ten am. They were out later than either of them had realised. 

“Jackson,” He nudged the man gently, “I think you need to get up.”

A mumbled response sunk into his skin as soft lips brush against his back. Jason went completely still, the sensation running along his nerves like hot wires. 

“You okay?” Another mumble filtered through his delirium. 

“I’m fine,” He managed to choke out, “I think we need to get up though. Room service is already here.”

That sparked movement. Suddenly green eyes were wide open, and cheeks, streaked with the creases of the pillow, were red with panic. “What is the time?” 

“It’s ten am,” He pointed to the clock. 

“Fuck!” Percy practically leaped out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the door frame as he skidded into the bathroom.

Jason heard the shower go on, and an electric toothbrush whirr to life, and then he heard a multitude of curse words, a loud bang and some groans of pain.

“Er,” He should go in there and make sure his friend was still alive. “Jackson?” He stepped into the bathroom and was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him.

There, tangled in his pants, toothpaste stains on his face, and the shower soaking the bathroom floor was Dr. Percy Jackson.

“Do you need help?”

“This is not how this morning was supposed to go,” The dark-haired man garbled, looking hopelessly at the mess he had created.

Jason hid a smile as he bent down to help tug Percy’s pants off him, “And how was the morning supposed to go.”

Green eyes clashed with his, the toothbrush still whirring in his mouth. “I was supposed to wake up early and order a buffet for breakfast and then as we stuffed ourselves-” he cut off, choking on the toothpaste. 

Jason couldn’t hide his amusement, and burst out laughing at Percy’s subsequent glare. Standing up and tossing the pants in the wash basket, he offered his hand to his friend, who took it gratefully before heading to the sink to finish brushing his teeth.

“What were we going to do while we ate?” He asked, leaning against the basin, one leg crossed over the other.

“I was going to feed you maple-covered waffles and answer some emails, and you were going to read that book I know you brought.”

“Are we an old married couple in this scenario?” He quirked a brow, lips twitching.

Percy frowned, stripping off his underwear and stepping into the heat of the shower. “I’m just trying to start our future early.” 

Jason watched those glorious back muscles ripple, as water streaked down, but he refused to follow its path, not daring to go lower than the small dip of that spine. He didn’t even know why he was still in the bathroom, why he was being such a creeper, but his feet were superglued to the floor. He couldn’t move even if a crowbar tried to pry him away.

“Are you not agreeing with my vision?” A muffled voice drifted around him.

He attempted to come back to reality but it was proving near impossible. “Uh no-” He stuttered, “I think it’s a solid plan.” His eyes traced the sharp angles of that jaw, and the strong-bridged nose, and black hair matted to beautiful brown skin. He was sure he was dreaming. There could be no other explanation for the surrealness of the moment.

“Jase?” Percy touched his arm gently, skin hot from the shower. “You okay?”

He startled into the world so fast he felt dizzy. Where on earth had he gone? To another dimension it seemed. “Oh gods i’m so sorry,” He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I just watched you shower like a complete pervert.”

His friend smirked, and then he was laughing. “Who says i didn’t enjoy it?”

The blush that raced across his skin was enough to dull rubies. He didn’t know where to look, or how to breathe, or what he was made of. He was simply an untied balloon barreling towards the nearest thorn bush. “You,” He managed to choke, “Are going to be the death of me doctor.”

“Good,” He heard the smirk like violins, “Maybe then I won't feel like I'm falling straight to the bottom of the ocean all by myself.”

Jason peeked through his fingers, watching as Percy finished up and flitted around the room, trying to still the heart that threatened to beat out his rib cage and into a drum set. It was an ache in his chest, how much he felt for this man. How much he wanted him.

“So i’m going to be in and out for the next few days but i’m going to work my butt off so i can have Thursday and Friday off. I’m sorry for being a terrible roommate but i don’t think i’ll make meals until then.” He could see the regret in the doctor’s eyes, turning that vibrant green a shade like dying leaves.

“No,” He shook his head, “Seriously it’s not a problem. You do what you have to.” He couldn’t believe his friend felt bad for leaving him, when they hadn’t even known they’d be here together. It said enough about Percy's character that Jason was trying very hard not to bundle the man up in blankets and kiss his cheeks until the guilt of the past stopped carving valleys between his brows. Instead he hugged him, accidentally letting his lips brush against Percy's neck, just above his collar as he pulled away. Accidentally. The squeeze at his waist let him know his accident was well received.

“Goodbye Jackson.” He smiled as he watched the doctor race down the hall. A ringed wave was the response before he disappeared around the corner.

Jason closed the door, leaning against it with an expression made from coffee foam and whipped cream. He couldn't imagine a morning as peaceful as that one, not in days, months, years? With a satisfied sigh he flopped back into bed, inhaling the ocean scent of Percy that lingered across the sheets like cool waters on a summer evening. The plan for the day was that there was no plan. Thalia had chosen well by booking this little place. He wouldn’t be distracted by touristy things ergo he couldn’t possibly do anything else but relax. So he snuggled into the pillows and stared at the ceiling and fell half asleep and listened to the wind and felt the heat creep across his skin and he just let himself be.

His thoughts were as wild as the tides and sometimes they spilled like ocean water across his cheeks. But then he’d drift off to a dream and wake up to the sound of people laughing and cars sputtering and footsteps stomping past his door and all of a sudden nothing felt too far away.

He was sad. He was sad enough to wonder if sadness was all he knew. His ex boyfriend, who he had loved like stars loved darkness, had broken down his dream and rebuilt it as a nightmare. He managed to wake up. His girlfriend, who he could have loved given time, had tied all the fraying parts of his heart to the wheel of a car and pressed accelerate. He managed to cut himself free. His girlfriend, who he had loved outright and bold, had danced him to the edge of a cliff and left him with one foot already going over. Had he managed to catch himself before reaching the bottom?

It was a question that kept him occupied through the day. Through the breakfast he ate slowly. Through the sleep he found restlessly when his mind wouldn’t focus on the book he’d brought. Through the very late lunch he gobbled down like his stomach would start a rebellion if it didn’t get it’s due. Through the golden sunset he sat at the window and watched.

But it was finally when he sunk to the floor of the shower, letting the water hit his back like welcome rain, that he had an answer; and with it the question of “What came next?” That answer, he knew, would come later. Clear and bright and ready to be grabbed with teeth and hands and love.

So he finished his shower, and changed into loose cotton pants and a shirt that he didn’t bother to button. A walk on the beach didn’t require formality.

The sand was soft on his feet, different to the way New York beaches felt. And the ocean was a richer blue, as if he were being introduced to colour for the first time and this was how water was supposed to look. He supposed places like this weren’t called paradise on earth for nothing. The last dregs of sunlight skittered across the water, as if playing with it. His fingers itched to paint the scene but with nothing but the sand at his fingertips he simply took in the view, and let his mind form the painting he couldn’t.

The air was cooler here, not as sticky, but that didn’t mean the heat wasn’t ever present, scorching the sand like coal hearths. His feet would be blistered if it weren’t so late into the evening. Any earlier and he may have been hopping around like a scared crab. The image was enough to make him giggle to himself. It’s a sound he misses, and one he loved enough to leave him smiling.

“Care to share, comedian?” A smooth voice called from behind him. 

He turned around, whipped faster than the wind, to see Percy walking towards him, a grin on his handsome face.

“I was picturing myself as a scared crab.”

Dark eyebrows raised in confusion, before rich laughter burst into the air. Jason swore it turned the night into magic. “Maybe I should have left you in peace.” The doctor shook his head. 

“Who says you’re disrupting it?” He tilted his head, before starting on his walk once more.

He didn’t see the look that crossed his friend’s face, like comfort turned to being.

“What did you do today?”

“Self reflection,” He said into the air, into the world, into himself. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, a little lab work here, a little analysis there.” Percy shrugged.

“Tell me more,” He prompted.

The look of surprise on his friend’s face made him want to throttle anyone who’s ever stopped this man from talking.

“You sure?” It was hesitant, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t promise to understand everything so I may have questions but if you’re willing to indulge me I want to hear all about it.”

With a look that spoke of worlds beyond their comprehension Percy launched into a detailed play-by-play of his day. He answered every question with patience and sparkling eyes, and there were many questions. By the time they got back to their hotel the crescent moon was their only source of light in the inky blackness of the sky and his stomach was growling enough that he knew he couldn’t afford to snack for supper.

“Want to go to the restaurant for dinner?” He tilted his head to the opposite side of the lobby where grand doors opened and closed periodically. 

“I uh,” His friend winced, “I have some work today so i’m going to head to the room.”

“Okay,” He shrugged smiling, “I’ll meet you up there later.”

“Uh yea,” Percy’s face held an expression he didn’t quite know how to interpret. “See you then.”

“Want me to bring something up for you?”

“No, no, don’t worry about me.” Black curls bounced as he shook his head. 

They parted ways, Jason only slightly confused by the weird turn his friend’s mood took, and decided he’d bring back a chocolate brownie if nothing else.

As he sat down at a table, observing the grand balustrades and curtained windows he felt suddenly alone. It wasn’t a feeling he let himself be consumed by but just the fact that it was there had him reaching for his phone. With a few taps he was calling Leo, knowing it’d be early morning for them.

“Hello,” A cheery voice crackled through his earphone. It was enough to settle all the worried nerves hidden between his ribcage.

Their conversation was bright and energetic, Leo being a morning person; he even got a few grunts out of Annabeth, who was decidedly not. Everything was okay with his company and more importantly his friends were fine.

“I found a person we know here,” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice and excitement quiet.

“Who?” Leo was practically vibrating. Even Annabeth looked at the camera with blurry eyed curiosity.

“Uh Percy.” He scratched the back of his neck, shyness crawling across his skin.

“Oh,” His friend’s eyes widened. “What is he doing there?”

“Work,” This was fine. This was safe. Nobody was jumping to any conclusions.

“Are you sure you didn’t run away to get married?”

And there went all his hope of having reasonable friends. “No!” He hissed. “And besides I didn't run away, you guys forced me to go.”

“Well it’s done you good. I can finally see some colour in those pasty cheeks.” Brown eyes sparkled with mischief. 

Before Jason could respond another call was interrupting. “Zoe Nightshade” flashed across the screen.

“Uh Leo,” He frowned at his phone. “I’ll call you back.”

“Everything okay?” He heard the worry like tv static.

“I hope so.” The furrow between his brows didn’t disappear. 

And then he hung up on his best friend and answered the other call.

“Oh Jason,” Relief flooded in his ear like water in a drought. “Thank you for answering.” The smooth voice of his ex-girlfriend reached him.

“Zoe,” His nerves were bow-string taught. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

“I need your help.” She answered. She sounded desperate. “I can’t marry Octavian.”

Jason Grace nearly falls off the cliff.

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[thestarsoutofyourwindow]

11th Doctor x Reader - Slip off into space

Ask: “Request for 11 where their in space and yk when people usually dangle their legs out the doors but readers to scared to do it so he hold them or sumth? fluffff”

I didn’t particularly try too hard to do anything in particular. This is just a cute little comfort fic which i got a little carried away with but, oh well! The gif isn’t mine, as usual!

Word count: 937

Includes: Mild anxiety, fluff - a lot of fluff

"Doctor?" You call into the Console room from the elevated corridor. You quickly walk down the steps and find yourself in an empty console room, the dim amber lights illuminating the console room. You look at the time rotor (the middle thing) and smile. It is beautiful.

Your little moment of silence was cut off by the Doctor's quiet voice, "Yeah?"

"Where- Oh!" You see the Doctor, and he's sat with his legs hanging out of the TARDIS, just looking out at the contorting, luminous colours and staggering emptiness that could bewilder and corrupt even the clearest of minds. He had a duvet over him and was hardly visible underneath it.

The Doctor peeks over at you, beckoning you over. You amble over to him, sitting cross-legged quite a few inches from the edge.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" The Doctor spoke, his fatigue evident in his tone. He gestures to you again- "Don't worry you won't lose your slippers, not that you're wearing any but."

"Ah- yeah It's not that- just, eesh." You say hesitantly. He turns back to look at you again, with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can manage.

"Oh alright. You're lucky I like you." You shuffle forward, knees still a good inch away from the edge.

"You can hang your legs over you know, you don't have to of course but, I promise you it's safe. The TARDIS would never let that happen, would you old girl?" The tardis whirrs reassuringly in response. "See? If it'll help I can always hold your hand."

You breathe shakily, the Doctor assuming out of nerves, but you were internally anticipating holding hands with him. You also realised at that moment he was wearing white pyjamas, which he looked really cute in. He shuffles over so he's even closer to you, and throws half of the duvet over your shoulders, "Can't have you getting cold," He mutters.

His arm was briefly over your shoulders, but then returned to his side, his palm upwards, making a grabby gesture. Your hand curls around his, the first thing you note is how cold his hands are, and how soft. You wouldn't expect that. That's another surprising thing about him, I suppose. Your fingers interlock and you shift awkwardly, hesitantly letting your legs fall over the edge.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you slip off into space. Not that it’s possible but.

"Huh..." You exhale. "Cold." You grab your side of the duvet and wrap it as much as you can. The Doctor realises this and pulls his side over too, and rests his head on your shoulder.

"You're lovely and warm." The Doctor whispers. You let go of his hand. He lazily lifted his head and you snaked your arm around his waist. He made a sort of happy hum and buried his face in your neck. You press your lips against the crown of his head affectionately. Well, this is one way to distract yourself, you thought, having the Doctor curled into you like this took your mind off the physical fear. You started thinking, your brain running at speeds that could rival the Doctor, that was until he spoke again.

"You're really comfy. Please don't get up, I haven't been able to sleep in weeks and I'm... dozing off," The Doctor whispers.

"Are you sure there isn't a more comfortable place to sleep? Like in your bed?"

"Are you asking to sleep with me? Bit of a bold move, especially for you."

"D-DoctoR?!" You whisper-shout, hiding your face in your hand.

"I mean you could." The Doctor spoke, dead seriously, a small bit of embarrassment in his tone. "I wouldn't say no if you were to... just end up in my bed. Or if I'm just a little too tired to make it to my room..."

"Well I'm sure my bed would feel a little more at home if you were in it," You laugh at that, but you weren't joking.

"Well. I warn you, uh... Once I sleep with you, I don't think I'll ever want to sleep alone... or without you, again."

"Good, because neither will I." You hush gently.

You both knew you were agreeing to something that you could very well regret, but that made it all the more exciting. Knowing didn't stop you from wanting each other, even just for physical comfort, from a friend. A very friendly friend. Completely platonic. Although, you really didn’t want it to be strictly platonic.

So the two of you moved to your room, where you had a double bed that always seemed too big to you, and it floated ever so slightly off the ground. It was cool, but it always felt so lonely.

You had got into bed first, and the Doctor joined you under the covers after you. He immediately curls into you. You're both facing each other, and you're so close, you could very much feel his breath against your collarbones.

He had his head resting on your arm, and your hand was running through his hair, your other arm was around his waist. His arm was draped around your shoulder, firmly holding you as close as he could.

He snuggled into you happily, and you knew you weren't going to be able to move for a few more hours now. Not that you were complaining.

The Doctor looked so adorable when he was curled up in your arms. You admire his face for a little, in your very exhausted state you whisper.

“Oh, I love you.”

To your awe, you hear his comparatively exhausted voice mutter, nearly incomprehensible, respond. “I love you too.”

[owl-with-a-pen]

(SO, Last night’s Doctor Who episode gave me some major inspiration. I decided to turn that inspiration into a quick fic that may be expanded upon ever so slightly in the future.)

SUMMARY: The Doctor has always hated endings. She shouldn’t be sad about it. She isn’t sad about it. No, instead, it gives her an idea.

After all, she isn’t bound by Time Lord laws anymore. And there’s one person she had always been meaning to save...

It’d been a long two decades.

Maybe not the longest two decades she’d ever lived, maybe not even close, but in the grand scheme of things, it had certainly felt longer than most.

All that time to think, and… what conclusions had she made?

Well, for starters, intergalactic prison food was terrible. All the nutrients required for a dozen or so assorted species packed into one solid brick of barely ingestible material. Honestly, she would have preferred to go without. But then it would’ve been harder to think. And she’d really needed to think.

Okay, what else?

Angela? Terrible neighbour. Literally the worst. Couldn’t get a wink in with her buzzing about. Plus, having Silent Bob next door had made thinking very difficult. Couldn’t focus on a single thing without it washing away the second she glanced in the wrong direction.

At least she’d been able to hold a conversation with the Ood.

Love an Ood. Even an ill-tempered one.

Doing it again, Doctor. She was missing the point. The big ol’ elephant in the room that she was getting particularly good at avoiding.

Had she seen any elephants in that prison? Bit odd. Odd as the Ood. Did they have something against elephants?

Focus.

Two decades. No closer. She was no closer to figuring out who she was, the identities that were hers and hers alone. That had been taken from her. Erased by higher forces just to keep her in check.

And it burned. Deep inside her chest, igniting both her hearts, making it difficult to breathe.

Or, maybe that was just prisons for you. Not like they made it easy for you to do anything. Although, she supposed breathing was pretty necessary to live out your sentence.

Seven thousand offences. She would’ve needed to breathe for a very long time.

She’d lost Ryan.

Lost Graham.

Her fam. Gone in an instant. Quicker than a blink, really. Faster than a Weeping…

“They’re not gone,” the Doctor said.

It was the first thing she’d said in a while. Out loud, at least. No one to talk to at the moment. 

The TARDIS rumbled affectionately beneath her hand, sending a calming pulse through her fingers as she continued to fiddle with various dials.

Well, maybe that wasn’t necessarily true.

The Doctor’s lips twitched. She ran her thumb along one of the TARDIS’s nodules, grinning when it flashed an encouraging blue. “Been a while since we talked, hasn’t it mate?”

Yaz was somewhere within the TARDIS. If the Doctor had wanted, she could have opened a psychic link with her ship, noted her exact coordinates. They could’ve talked, too.

Maybe the TARDIS was prodding her to do just that. Maybe she didn’t want to be prodded.

“Okay,” the Doctor relented. “They are gone. But, just from me. That’s not too shabby, now, is it? They’re safe. Ryan and Graham. Defenders of Planet Earth.” Her smile weakened. “Maybe Jack can push ‘em in the right direction. Didn’t wanna get too involved, thought it’d be best for them to find their footing on their own. Although, maybe a couple of calls wouldn’t hurt.”

The TARDIS made a soft whirr, a clanking groan following soon after from somewhere at her centre. The Doctor’s fingers clenched across the console. “Too soon? Maybe they need space.” She blinked. “Then again, we are already half a galaxy away.”

She felt the TARDIS’s thoughts probe gently against her mind. They weren’t thoughts in the predominately biological sense of the term. It was an impression of thought, really, like warm water tickling her brains. She knew what it meant, what it always meant.

And, distantly, the TARDIS procured something recent of hers. A fresh memory, still buzzing at the surface.

It’s okay to be sad.

The Doctor shuddered. “No, mate. Don’t play that game.”

The TARDIS groaned again.

“Why?” the Doctor asked, baring her teeth. “You know why. I’m not sad. How can I be? They’re off doing their own thing. They’re happy.” The last word travelled morosely around the room, punctuated by every metal wall it bounced across.

The Doctor reached restlessly for something to fiddle with, turning a gear that offered no further progression to their journey. They weren’t positioned for time travel right then, after all. Just space. Just… exploration. Idle movement. Something to do while Yaz caught her bearings.

She needed time. Plenty of that about on a time machine, after all. She’d be okay. Just needed some human comforts. Food and sleep – both of which the TARDIS was happy to provide to her in abundance. Maybe the Doctor should have gone to her.

It’s okay to be sad.

No. No, no, she wasn’t opening that one. It was silly, really, not something worth focusing on. Besides, there was so much more she needed to think about.

“Ten months,” she murmured. “Lots can change in ten months. Ten years. Ten decades. Ten…” She stopped, her mouth falling open. “Ten,” she repeated, a little surer of herself. Her lips twitched fondly. “Haven’t thought about you in a while, have I?”

She glanced up, narrowing her eyes. That was something to focus on. Something she quite liked, actually. No, even better. This was a plan.

And a plan meant she could think.

The Doctor skirted around the TARDIS, trailing her fingers along every bump and notch until she found what she was looking for. One of the data screens, reeling information about their current location. Nothing too fancy for the moment.

The Doctor grabbed at its handle, pulling it down towards her. Her mind was beginning to whir again, that familiar clank of gears not too dissimilar from her own ship’s. She caught the flash of her own eyes in the screen’s reflection, a ghostly image with a toothy grin, ready to enact a plan. The best plan.

“Y’know,” the Doctor said, engaging with her ship once again. “I used to play it safe, always so considerate that I had these set amount of lives. It was the Time Lord way.” She reached out blindly, wrapping her hand around a familiar lever. “But, it got me thinking. I’m not a Time Lord, am I? Actually, I don’t know what I am. But… time is still the same. Same rules apply. My rules, though?”

She caught something in her reflection. A darkness settling comfortably behind the shimmer of her eyes. She looked away, staring adamantly at her console. Her TARDIS.

“Ryan and Graham are safe. But I saved… I saved someone else. A long time ago. Too long ago.” She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. A sharp pulse shot through the Doctor’s chest, teasing her hearts with a new fire.

She could do this.

“I saved her. But, that wasn’t enough,” the Doctor continued. “I could’ve done more. Could’ve…” She sucked in a breath, shaking her head. “But I can now, can’t I, mate? ‘Cos I’m not who I thought I was. I’m more. More than any of ‘em.” She clenched her free hand, lifting it towards her chest, feeling both hearts thrill inside. “Maybe I still don’t know everything. Maybe I’ve got a lot to learn. But, one thing I do know is that I have exactly what it takes to bring her back.”

The Doctor’s hand tightened firmly around the lever, pushing it down with a rattling thud.

“I got more lives than I ever thought possible,” she murmured. When she looked up at the screen again, she no longer saw her own eyes staring back at her. Instead, a new face took up every inch of visible space. Or, should she say, an old face.

River’s eyes, both old and young at the same time, stared back at the Doctor. An abundance of densely packed curls framing her face, a crease in her eyes as she grinned out from the photograph she’d given her a good century ago, at least. 

A face the Doctor hadn’t seen in so long. A face she ached to see again.

“Guess what?” the Doctor asked, bracing herself as the TARDIS shuddered into action. She grinned tightly, a power she hadn’t felt in quite some time resurfacing within her. “I’m gonna use one of them to save you.”

[livelivefastfree]

have you been working on any new fics?? (your stories are wonderful, ive drowned myself in polyburners thanks to you 😔 its a good place to be)

Not really anything new, although I’ve been picking away at some older ones that I never finished!  Namely the plot-heavy sequel to my telepathic soul-bond superhero AU, the intimidatingly complicated sequel to Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon, and my Burnerswap AU where the villains are all our new Burners and the Burners are villains.

Unfortunately since I’m a nurse work has been kind of stressful recently and also my brain only likes to focus on one thing at a time which is currently original novel things.  So process is pretty slow, haha.  But I’m glad I could bring more people into the polyburners fold!

I do feel bad that I haven’t had the energy to post much for a while; revamping my burnerswap doc is the most recent thing I’ve gotten work done on, so here’s a little bit of scene-setting!

Deluxe is a mass of spires and platforms, shimmering in the sunshine outside Red’s window.  Red stares up at the ceiling, at the pale golden glow of sunlight on the pale polymer.  He can hear the sound of someone loudly imitating an electric guitar, and faint thumps and thuds through the wall; Duke is taking his traditional lengthy shower and using up all their precious hot water.  From the smells drifting up from downstairs, Jacob is already up and in the kitchen experimenting.  Kaia is probably upstairs on the roof, tending to her plants, and Abraham had to go back down to the undercity last night.  His absence is a hole; no sound of him talking to Jacob in the kitchen, working out irritatingly on Red’s balcony, yelling at Duke for using up the water.  There’s always something slightly off, a little bit wrong, when part of their team is missing.

Red sits up, buckles his patch on over the remnant of his left eye, and pushes himself up out of bed to see what’s for breakfast.

Jacob is stirring something in a pan when he Red arrives.  There’s a heaping basket of miscellaneous vegetables on the counter next to him, so probably Red’s in for some kind of veggie abomination this morning—but it’s a veggie abomination Red doesn’t have to make and then burn, and he doesn’t really have a sense of taste anymore, anyway.  Red drops into a chair, and Jacob piles up a plate of fried vegetables and sets it wordlessly down in front of him.

It’s quiet for a while. Red eats as much as he can manage, and Jacob knows him well enough not to frown when Red has to push the plate away half-eaten.  

“Quiet night?” he says, eventually.

“All quiet in the pit,” Red says, and goes to the cooler to fish out a nutrient shake instead.  “No calls from Abraham.  No alerts, no bots, no Dragon.”

“Mm.”  Jacob shakes his head, making an unconvinced grumbling noise.  “They’ll come.  They always do.”

Red can’t argue that. He stayed on the edge of the platform until the small hours of the morning, looking down into the dark city far below, watching every gleam of light and flicker of movement, waiting for the first flash of red glass eyes or matte metal claws.

The others drift downstairs eventually, one at a time; Duke grimaces at the vegetable mess, but Kaia piles in with every sign of enjoyment.  Red sits back and listens to Jacob and Duke bicker, Kaia’s laughing jabs at both of them indiscriminately, and lets the sunlight soften some of the harsh, nauseated fatigue.

He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to drift off, but when his comms light up red with an urgent chime, it startles him badly enough he almost drops his drink.

“Come in,” Abraham’s voice says, flat and low.  “Red.”

“Copy,” says Red, and pushes himself up, already moving. The rest of his team reorders around him, Jacob heading for the garage, Duke and Kaia immediately running for their rooms, their weapons.  Red picks up his gloves, feeling the circuitry inside thrum hotly against his palms. “Incoming?”

“How did you guess,” says Abraham dryly.  “Three Climbers.  Two on North Side, one coming up from the East.  And she’s sending up the Dragon.”

Red falters in mid-step, then growls and heads down the staircase to the garage, taking the steps two at a time. “Can you make it up?”

“I can try,” Abraham says, but Red knows that tone to his voice, rough and grim.  “I think she’s targeting the medical complex on platform 18.  Don’t get distracted.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red says, and Abraham gives a brief bark of a laugh and then cuts the call.

--

Deluxe looks beautiful in the sunlight, if beauty is something to pay attention to; Red has seen it a thousand times, growing up from the old undercity of Detroit like an indescribably huge tree made of silver and marble.  The platforms that make up the city itself look almost fragile from a distance, hovertech and superlight polymers, gleaming with solar panels and greenery.  The massive support structure that holds the city up grows dirtier and more patchwork as it descends into the bristling thicket of ancient, blocky concrete buildings.

Whole civilizations have made their homes on the platforms along that winding trunk.  Around its base, built onto the rooftops of old skyscrapers, Red can see the distant gleam of the Casino King’s sprawling compound, gaudy with red and gold floodlights.  There are urban legends about an entire lost city, one that made its living in among the building-sized struts and cables themselves, before some unspecified calamity cut all communication with them short.

Some of the midway settlements are against Kane, some of them are only indifferent, but Red can only assume that trying to bargain her way through was too much trouble.  Kane took matters into her own hands, and had her R&D invent the Climbers.

Red has eyes on one of them now; a long, low shape, slinking across the platform.  Six-legged, with four glowing eyes each, moving with an unnerving, artificial grace—the mechanical nightmare-offspring of a wolf and some kind of insect.  The tips of their claws hum faintly, lit up—plasma-cutter edges, sharp enough to sink into the polymer like hot knives through butter.  Red is a platform above them, out of their field of vision, but he’s seen the way the things scale vertical surfaces, faster than anything that size should be able to move.

As Red watches, one of them opens its mouth, showing hundreds of needle-sharp fangs lit hellish red from the inside, and lets out an awful, scraping snarl.

“I’ve got eyes on one,” Red says, keeping his voice low.  

“Yeah, yeah, we see ‘em over here too,” Duke says, tight and sharp with bravado.  “Easy.  Let’s get it done!”

“I’ve got your back,” Kaia says.  “Let’s show these things what—”

“Hey, Red,” says a voice, and something taps Red on the shoulder.  “Tag.”

The moment of shock is enough to freeze Red in place for a single fraction of a second, and that’s a hesitation he can’t afford.  A blunt edge slams into his ribs, knocks him over off his feet; he rolls, comes up on his feet again and sends out a blind shockwave of energy—throws himself to one side as a staff sweeps past where his ankles were, and this time when he lashes out he feels the impact strike true.

The Dragon of Detroit takes the hit and lets it bowl him backwards, turns the motion into a back-handspring and comes to a skidding halt, shaking overgrown brown bangs out of his dark eyes.  He’s laughing, smiling as wide and wild as he always does; the deep scar that stretches crookedly from his cheekbone to his chin twists his smile into something just slightly crooked and bitter, but his laugh sounds irritatingly, insultingly genuine.

“Chilton,” Red snarls, and the man spins his staff behind his back and sweeps a bow, grinning.  

“I’m guessing you’re not interested in doing this the easy way, kid,” he says, and Red clenches his fists, lightning crawling up his arms.  “Yeah, I didn’t figure.  Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“The fuck I can’t,” Red snaps, and Chilton huffs out a breath and shakes his head, ever-present smile never fading.  “If you really cared about not hurting anybody you wouldn’t be working for that—”

It’s the flicker of Chilton’s eyes that gives it away, and the faintest sound of scraping metal; Red dives to one side on instinct, just in time to avoid the snap of jagged metal jaws and six sets of wickedly-clawed feet.  He comes up swinging, lands a few solid hits; the Climber shrieks as one of its legs spasms and cracks, red lightning and dented metal grinding in one of its back legs.

“Backup!” Red snaps into his comm, and then there’s only the fight.

He’s being distracted, he knows it even while it’s happening, but he can’t break his focus away long enough to care.  Chilton is gone, he has to be raiding that medical compound, and Red is stuck here, fighting some stupid robot—

“Heads up!” yells a voice, and Red glances up and then back-pedals abruptly as a huge, blocky shape comes rocketing off the next platform up and drops like a comet onto the Climber’s head.  The back half of the bot gives a meaty crunch as Jacob’s construction rig lifts back off of it, leaking nasty, thick, black fluid as it tries to drag itself forward on its two remaining legs; Red steps forward, grimacing in distaste, tears a dented plate away and buries his hand in the things neck to deliver one final, merciless jolt.  The Climber whirrs, gives a gurgling growl, and finally goes still.

“Jumpin’ Josephat,” says Jacob, from inside the clunky, ugly cube he calls a hovercar.  “You still in one piece down there?”

“Where’s Chilton?!” Red says, and then jerks and looks up at the sound of a laugh, echoing off the white walls and walkways around them.  

The Dragon is standing at the very edge of the platform, silhouetted against the sky; he makes eye contact with Red, brief and grinning, one hand on the side of a stolen transport pod. Then he throws off a brief, mocking salute, and launches himself backwards off the edge of the platform into thin air, vanishing over the edge.

“Criminy,” says Jacob weakly, because Jacob is an 80-year-old man in a 20-year-old body.  

“Fuck,” Red hisses, and slams a fist down on the ground, leaving lightning-jagged scorch marks across the white polymer.  Takes a few breaths and repeats, “…fuck,” soft and hoarse, poisonous in his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Jacob, and his boots thump softly as he slides down, his hand settles carefully on Red’s shoulder.  “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

[generallynerdy]

Hold Him (Poe Dameron X M!Reader)

Summary: Poe lands on Ajan Kloss after destroying the Final Order once and for all with only one thought on his mind; he desperately wants to find his boyfriend and kiss the life out of him. (Y/N), however, has other ideas. Like maybe punching his beloved idiot.

Requested by Anon: Disaster bi Poe = best Poe so can I get Poe x M!reader where Poe just landed after the final battle in TROS and reader smacks him for putting himself in danger and then kisses him cause GOD does he love that idiot

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: author self-projects desperately bc he wants a relationship like this, minor cursing, author still hasn’t decided on pronouns for droid characters leave me alone, Sequel Canon exists unfortunately and is prevalent in this fic :/ Word Count: 1,153

Note: technically i fulfilled the prompt by 500 words but i’m a weak bitch and my brain worms have complete power over my fingers so. ANYWAY my dumb gay ass fell way more in love with Poe writing this but i haven’t watched the movies in a while so he may be slightly OOC, Finn might be too so that’s my bad. Also wild thing that comes with realising im bigender is that it’s so much easier to write with,,,all the pronouns AND i can self project onto every single fic

    Poe Dameron practically launched himself from his X-Wing the moment it touched down on Ajan Kloss. His heart was light with victory, with freedom from a war he’d spent far too long fighting. Too many thoughts were running through his head, almost at the same rate as his pulse, which hadn’t dropped since they took off from the base hours before.

    But the one thing that kept coming to mind was that he desperately, desperately wanted to find his boyfriend and hold him for the next 20 years.

    Pushing through the crowd of exhilarated rebels, Poe smiled and greeted the occasional familiar face, but he was really focused on finding his man. He didn’t catch sight of him immediately and, in fact, found Finn first.

    “Finn!” he cried, rushing to greet his friend with a tight hug.

    “We did it-- General,” Finn said with a fond, mischievous grin.

    Poe smiled back. “General. Hey, have you seen (Y/N)?”

    He grimaced. “Uh, no, but you’re a dead man. Threatening to come pull us off the star destroyer? You’re dead.”

    “Hey, I’ll be fine,” he said, waving him off. “He loves me.”

    Finn looked over his shoulder, eyes going wide. “Yeah, uh, not that much. Good luck.”

    He made himself scarce as soon as Poe turned around. The man was met with (Y/N), his dear, dear boyfriend, and said boyfriend’s most vicious scowl.

    Poe winced, but played it off with a smile. “Hey, hon--”

    “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, Poe Dameron!” (Y/N) scolded, storming up to him and hitting his shoulder. “You’re a karking dumbass!”

    “(Y/N)--”

    He scoffed, gesturing wildly. “Oh, I’ll just fly right up beside a star destroyer and I’ll be perfectly fine! I’ll just kill myself for the sake of three people and a droid!”

    “I was protecting you and BB and Finn and Jannah,” he said firmly. “It would have been worth it-- but I didn’t even end up doing and you’re all safe. So can you please just breathe?”

    (Y/N) inhaled deeply. Poe waited.

    A moment later, he was dragged into a kiss. He made a little happy, amused hum and pulled (Y/N) in by his waist. (Y/N) would have rolled his eyes if they weren’t closed. Instead, he reached up to cup Poe’s head and run his fingers through his hair, earning him a pleased huff. (Y/N) loved playing with his hair and Poe loved the feeling of it, so it was a win-win situation.

    When (Y/N) let the poor man breathe again, he couldn’t help smacking his shoulder. “I don’t know why I love you,” he mumbled before falling into his shoulder forehead-first.

    Poe laughed. “I’m insufferable and it’s part of my charm?”

    (Y/N) muttered something incoherent against his flight suit, while Poe rubbed a comforting hand across his back. He noted with fondness that his boyfriend was wearing his jacket, which sent a wave of affection through his chest, almost like he’d been shot. 

The weight of his mother’s ring hanging on a chain around his neck fell heavy against his heart, reminding him of the promise he’d made to himself. When this is over...Well, it was over now. It was over and Poe was free to make a million promises to this man, this man that he loved with every bit of his soul. That ring was going to be his.

He noticed then that (Y/N) had tucked in closer and gone silent.

“Hey,” he whispered against his hair. “Hey, you okay? You hurt?”

(Y/N) mumbled a muffled negative, but buried his face in Poe’s neck. “No. ‘M fine.”

Poe frowned. Something wasn’t right. “What is it, baby?”

Finally, his boyfriend looked up, meeting his gaze with something that he might call bittersweetness, though he couldn’t understand why.

“It’s over,” (Y/N) breathed out.

Poe couldn’t help a soft smile. “Yeah, baby, it’s over. But you...don’t look happy. What’s wrong?”

“I just--” he paused. “Shit. We’ve been fighting for years. Everything we’ve done, everything we are is because of this war. And now it’s just-- it’s over. What are we gonna do?”

He considered this for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a smile. “I have no idea. That’s kind of great, isn’t it? We could do anything we want, go anywhere we want, and I don’t even know where to start!”

“It’s terrifying!” (Y/N) cried. “We have no idea what we’re doing!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said soothingly, caressing his cheek with his thumb and holding him close. “We’ve got each other, we’ve got money, we’ve got friends-- we’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, you’ve got me. That’s all we need.”

His boyfriend huffed a little. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love me,” he sang, pressing a finger to his nose teasingly.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “I do. Love you, I mean. Even though you’re a reckless idiot who doesn’t worry nearly as much as you should.”

“I already know what I’m gonna do for the next 20 years,” Poe said, leaning forward to kiss him chastely. “I’m gonna spend every single day with the people I love; exploring the galaxy, flying my ship, taking care of my droid, holding my boyfriend-- who I intend to marry--”

He laughed. “Take me on a proper date first, Dameron, and we’ll see.”

“See? We already have plans!” he declared. “Maybe a few rugrats in the future--”

“I am so not ready to be a parent,” (Y/N) said firmly.

Poe raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you already are.”

An indignant whirr and beep sounded in the distance. A tiny ball of orange and white rolled viciously toward the pair, making (Y/N) burst into laughter.

“Speaking of your child--”

“Our child,” Poe corrected immediately. “You were definitely involved in the raising process.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Implying that the raising process is over.”

BB-8 shrieked excitedly upon approach, bumping into Poe’s legs and then rolling in between him and (Y/N), bouncing up and down as best as a little ball could.

“Hey, buddy!” Poe greeted fondly, leaning down to properly do so.

Beebee started spouting off about the mission on Exegol, father-figure listening intently. Nearby, Finn and Rey came out of nowhere, laughing and refusing to move away from each other after the day’s events. Rose and Chewie were nearby, too, embracing and, in Chewie’s case, roaring with joy. Jannah and Lando spoke in quiet tones to each other, but (Y/N)’s gaze moved away from all of them and back to his boyfriend.

“No kidding!” Poe was saying to his-- their droid-child, glancing up at (Y/N) to shoot him a desperately lovesick, overjoyed smile.

(Y/N) smiled back and, looking at his little family, couldn’t help thinking that maybe the future wasn’t so terrifying a thought after all.

[scatterpatter]

To the Rescue (short colorgames fic >:3c)

I wrote this in like not even 2 hours wHOOP WHO NEEDS PROOFREADING

Content Warnings: kidnapping, murder, referenced drugging, pedo mention

Waking from a deep sleep was usually a pleasant feeling. To be able to sleep in, slowly wake up on your own terms, to feel the warmth of your bed… it’s usually pleasant.

This was far from pleasant.

The first feeling he could register was an intense grogginess. The type that made him want to go right back to sleep, but felt too exhausted to even do that. His head throbbed, swarming his head, the rush of blood so loud it felt as though his ears would start ringing. His throat was dry. His body was sore. His eyelids were heavy and…

And he wasn’t even in bed.

Oh, shit.

Gregory Game sighed, letting the realization of his situation kick in to get the adrenaline pumping, hoping it would help him wake up more quickly. He was somewhere dark, but the ceilings were high and the air was damp. A warehouse, maybe? He was sitting, most likely in a chair, and as he tried to move his arms, he felt a firm tug around his wrists. Okay, so arms were bound. That’s no good.

“Finally awake?”

Greg looked up, trying to blink away the fogginess his vision still gave him. Christ, how strong was that drug they slipped in his drink? He groaned, trying to force his brain into full coherency in order to see the figures that approached him. “… Who…?”

The one in front folded his arms, trying to make himself look more intimidating. As if bounding Game wasn’t enough to get the point across “… You have a lot of nerve, killin’ our boss, buddy.”

… Fuckin hell. A gang? Really? It’s always gangs. Everything’s always a kidnap and a vendetta with these types.

“You’re gonna have t’ be a bit more specific, babe.” He groaned, trying not to slur his words despite the strong influence he was still under. “… Oh, let me guess. Tall, tattoo on the right arm of a skull, blonde hair, ugly puke-green eyes?”

“Oye, watch the mouth, dipshit.” The man growled, reaching to his belt and drawing… what appeared to be a large knife. “Our boss did a lot of good for a lot of people. You’ve got some nerve trying to waltz around and just- off him like he meant nothin’!”

Greg sighed, giving a huff of air to try and blow the hair from his face. He always gets the thankless jobs… “Your “boss” liked to prey on teenage girls, so uh. Sorry I’m not a little more sympathetic. Pedos like him have it coming, just be grateful I only tortured him for a few hours and not years like the creep deserved.”

“Hey!” He snarled, stepping forward and placing the knife against Greg’s throat “You’ve got quite a mouth on ya, thinkin’ you can just say whatever the fuck you want without any repercussions? I oughta cut your tongue out…”

Game just stared forward. Unimpressed. “Well, guess I’ve had less creative threats over the years…”

One of the other men in the room finally spoke up, an audible edge to his voice “He’s way too calm. He knows something-!”

“Something?” He said, tilting his head almost curiously, as if there wasn’t a blade pressed against it. “No… Someone, however…”

The man in front smirked “No one saw a thing when we carried you off. Even if they did, it’d take ages to find you here. Trust me when I tell you that you’re all alone with no one to help~”

Greg just returned the smile, never losing the confident spark in his eyes “For anyone else, you’d probably be right. But gentlemen, tell me… how much do you know about quantum physics?”

The room fell into a confused silence, some of the men starting to reach for their weapons as a strange air of dread seemed to descend upon them.

Game, though, seemed completely unaffected by this. “I’ll be honest, I know nothing about it. All Greek to me, you know? … Lucky for me, I’m not the one who needs to know~”

As if on divine cue, a whirr was heard throughout the warehouse, echoing off the walls before a sudden vortex opened in the center of the room. Gaping and tall as a person, seeming to open into the void… but as confusion fueled to curiosity with the men in the room, an axe suddenly came flying out, lodging itself into the chest of one of Greg’s kidnappers.

While the others panicked over the strange supernatural situation, a figure stepped out of the portal, tapping at some buttons on a strange device on his wrist before rolling a sleeve up to properly conceal it. As the newcomer stepped forward, the gang members stepped back, and that seemed to get an amused smirk from him. A long, black scarf trailed behind him… but his foes seemed to be more focused on the pale skin and pure red eyes that greeted them. He walked over to the fresh corpse, then pulled the axe out of his chest, testing the handle’s weight in his hands and then giving it a small spin.

Greg just smiled, completely unphased by the bloodshed before him “Hey, darling, you’re late. I was worried you wouldn’t show for a minute!”

Mikhail, the Colorless, turned to give a fond glare to his partner. “You know Tuesdays are my slow days, asshat. You want your knight in shining armor to save you or nah?”

Game laughed, heart just warm and delighted despite the fact that they were still in a life-threatening situation “Alright, beautiful, give em hell for me~”

C smirked, adjusting his hold on his axe before going to finish off the rest of his kidnappers.

Perhaps Greg had a bit too much trust in the other to save him whenever he was in danger.

But that trust was a two way street, and after all this time, they’ve yet to fail each other.