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4dtk · 3 years

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NCT127 falling in love with a s/o with a time-consuming job like a lawyer or a doctor

NCT 127 with an s/o who has a time-consuming job

this is so cute, thanks for requesting! i made this in a format in the ways that the boys might show their care when you’re so busy with your job :) long as hell LOL enjoy!!

brief spoilers for shang-chi if you haven’t watched! i just watched it this week lol it was really good

→ TAEIL would direct conversations to a more neutral stance. it’s not that he wants to talk about himself, but sometimes if you don’t want to talk about your case or patients, he easily slips into conversation about theories or his favourite tv show or your rundown of what groceries to take for the next time you head to the supermarket. just really normal small things that take your mind off the stress, especially at night when you’re laying in bed and just before you’re drifting off to sleep, the two of you would engage in a topic that you both know fairly well about and then you’re usually the first to succumb to sleep. taeil purposely picks out topic he knows will excite you (and bc he knows you’re passionate about it, he reads up on it which allows a well-balanced convo). if you’re rambling on about a topic, then he’ll occasionally play the guitar while laying down, just simple melodies that bring a lot of peace to the room.

“wait- how d’you like this melody?” taeil softly says, changing it instantly when you commented on the previous, discordant one. your nod encourages him to carry on with the plucking of his fingers while you yourself continue with your rambles. “so i’m saying right, it seems totally unfair for him, and you’d think that, right? but all he ever does is whine and moan about his misfortunes, plus his character is so terribly written i kinda feel sorry for-“

the halted melody prompts a sharp turn of your turn to the guitar, which you almost collide with, “what?” taeil only shrugs. “nothin’. just like how passionate you get about the show, it’s cute.” your boyfriend smiles after, ignoring how his words affect you and how your cheeks heat up at it.

→ JOHNNY is one to take you out after your work. it’s not to a super intense, high-energy place like a club or anything, but small little dates that won’t take up much time. eating dinner at a restaurant, walk in the park, small cafe trip, strolling through supermarket to make fun of brand names. if you’re too tired that day, he always finds a way to make your time at home fun. from setting up a small karaoke session, to maybe making a pillow fort, to trying out new cuddling positions, he has everything on his mind. always showing you things to cheer you up if you happen, from memes to funny videos. is low-key down for you to review crime/doctor shows too, just to see how accurate they nail it. your time at home is consuming endless pieces of media until your tummies hurt or you’re sniffling at a movie together.

“hold on- lemme show you this video,” johnny’s hand is outstretched to you once he finds the video and your spoon full of food is left near your mouth. you proceed to watch the low quality video which your boyfriend claims to be the funniest video on earth.

W-HOR? WAH? the girl’s finger in the video traces over the word “who” as she struggles to pronounce it, with presumably her sister in the background prompting her. the repeated pronunciation of the word makes you snort, while the wheezing and the loud NO in the background causes you to fully erupt into laughter. johnny simply smiles at another successful attempt to make you smile.

→ YUTA always has a hand on you when you return home. he brings you into a hug, he guides you by your back, you have to eat with one hand bc he can’t keep his hand off of you. he hopes his little touches will ease your tiredness even by a bit and if you don’t want it, he’ll stop, but it’s yuta’s way of showing he cares without words. busy days with yuta usually involve just sitting in silence as you catch up on a show or a series, or even listening to a song in silence and enjoying each other’s company. he will talk if you want to, but if not that’s fine too, preferring more to stroke your hair in silence and think about how much he loves you. becomes very sappy when you’re in the quiet of your room and generally is very fond of the small pockets of time you get to spend before you two fall asleep. likes that you’re so resolute in your job but can be soft around him behind closed doors.

“you comfortable?” yuta calls out, barely above a whisper as he wraps an arm tighter around you. there’s comfortable ministrations that his does with his fingers, massaging the skin under your pajamas while you snuggle deeper into his chest. humming, you tighten your hold around his top.

“i am, yeah,” you can’t care much for the tv show on the screen now, with empty takeout boxes and tissues littering the coffee table. you feel the gentle kiss of yuta on your head before you’re drifting off to dreamland to a scratchy, 60s jazz song playing through the speakers.

→ TAEYONG would always welcome you back with a table set and food ready, always. he knows that food is the way to someone’s heart and you eating his food always makes him happy and offers to clean-up. lets you shower first if you come back together, puts you before himself very often that sometimes you have to tell him to tone it down because you don’t want him ending up more tired than he already is. following up on this, taeyong would show his love by cooking your lunches for you. when he has the time he makes the effort to put it in a nice bento or box for you to eat. he also does the general chores around the house (assuming the two of you live together) so the bed will be a little less messy when you come back, the floor’s cleaner, the countertops aren’t so cluttered with stuff. even if there’s nothing to clean up, he always these small little things before you come back, and even if you don’t notice it, he sees the way you’re able to navigate the space or when you’re more at ease and it makes him smile.

“do you want to shower first?” taeyong calls out softly, admiring the clean house he’s managed to do up before he went to meet you, “i’ll just hang around until you’re done.”

“you need to prioritise yourself too, yong,” you pout, rubbing a hand up and down his forehead as you toe off your shoes, “how ‘bout we shower together? you did clean the house up pretty nicely.” that earns a grin and a kiss from taeyong, who goes straight the prepare the bath. you chuckle, “he’s already forgotten what i’ve told him.”

→ DOYOUNG supports you silently and listens to your day when you return home and talk about your patient or a case you’re working on. he gives you his own input when he sees fit but other than that he wants you to explain the details. being a doctor and lawyer is crazy and hectic and just wants you to know that you’re appreciated in the workforce. the way he might show his love when caring for a busy s/o like you is when he brings you stuff that you might’ve forgotten like an umbrella or your lunch since you were rushing out of the house earlier. he doesn’t mind going the extra mile to you literally bc it’s a win-win! you get your food, he gets to see you, etc. if not he’ll send someone over to pass it to the receptionist, or he’ll make up for it by meeting you outside the office to apologise and then ask you what you wanna do so he can make it up to you.

“did you manage to get the bento i bought you?” doyoung asks worriedly through the phone, holding up a hand to the staff member who was beckoning him to his photoshoot. “you bought so much!” you exclaim, with a shoulder to your ear, phone perched in between, “thank you doyoung.”

“’m sorry i couldn’t come over to give you your lunch today, angel. i’ll see you after you’re done with work, okay?” you smile at that, shooting a quick reply before you delved into your food.

→ JAEHYUN would honestly serve you once you come back from a busy day tbh. where taeyong does the chores around the house, jaehyun helps by doing the chores on YOU and only you. giving you massages, bringing you dinner on a tray, other unsaid things… and maybe even carrying you from room to room lol he’s relentless and just goes you need to rest, lemme help. big gentleman even when you reject him, doing smaller things like constantly checking up on you, pulling the blanket higher onto your body, cuddling you closer to his body when it’s cold. on top of that jaehyun also one that would meet you at your workplace and take you out like johnny, but those dates are extremely chill. he lets you choose, and when you’re not sure, he takes you on a night picnic at the field or a rooftop, just dinner, but outside bc the view is really nice and he likes the way you look even after a long day of working.

“where should we park our mats?” your head moves from left to right, looking for a suitable spot while you tug on jaehyun’s hand. he hums at it, searching for a spot just like you are. the wind’s blowing gently when you settle near a tree, mat occasionally flying up which you counter with your heavy laptop bag.

“any idea where we can get desserts later?” you call out as a half-joke, not expecting jaehyun to pull up his phone to instantly search for a baskin robbins. “there’s one close-by, wait here for a minute and i’ll go get one for you-“ you laugh before pulling him back down, “don’t worry! we’ll go together, plus i don’t want to be left alone.” jaehyun softly smiles, nodding along as he takes out the food he packed.

→ JUNGWOO has similar intentions like johnny, except he would just wanna stay home. where johnny’s goal is to make you laugh, jungwoo just likes doing things together at home. playing board games, folding the clothes together, making dinner together. it’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, but when he’s given free time he sometimes just likes to laze at home and rest from schedules. he sometimes takes himself out of bed to help before you come back but he’s lazy lolol. loves it when you’re both equally tired and living off 5h of sleep. it’s not romanticising the lack of sleep but your schedules just don’t allow you to sleep equal amounts of hours of sleep. through that, you’re at least able to connect over sleepy talk and droopy smiles while you make the bed or assemble a lego piece or playing video games. if jungwoo’s energetic enough he doesn’t mind doing the crazier activities but he generally prefers those activities done in semi-silence while you exchange jokes and funny videos.

“noooo- no! you only need to move three times, you’re cheating-“ jungwoo pouts and moves back your playing avatar back three spaces on the board game. you purse your lips, not expecting him to see it since he was particularly invested in the movie playing on the screen. knowing it was a shitty film, you tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. with eyes glued to the screen a few seconds earlier, you took your chance to move down one more space in order to get the benefit on the game board.

“you’ll get to buy a house soon, honey,” jungwoo grins cheekily, laughing even more when he’s able to move four steps, landing on the square that you wanted. now it was your turn to pout as he flips the card for property purchases, happily placing it next to his five other houses. “you’re so annoying!” you say as you fall back on the bean bag, but jungwoo doesn’t believe it when he sees a smile poking out from behind the hands shielding your face..

→ MARK sends you a looooot of texts. your convos with him are just him spamming questions or sending you memes. on every platform LMAO he has tweets sent, ig dm’s are blowing up from the weirdass nct memes that some of the fans make, he uses the official nct tiktok account to send you viral trending videos and he’s like we should try this!!!! and it’s a couple doing acrobatics or some shit. he’s crazy. anyway, he just likes to share things with you, from songs, to playlists, to youtube videos or interesting topics like crime psychology or movie theories etc. he knows that you’re hardly going to see it in your job but he sees the way you react across the room when he sends you stuff so he’s sure that you’ll like it after you get off work. sometimes likes to rickroll you, he knows it’s an old trend/troll thing but the thrill of seeing your frustrated replies always make him laugh out loud. when you’re back home, the both of you review whatever you send each other and then laugh together at them.

“hey, babe, check out this video,” mark says in a text, pasting a twitter link to a video. the video starts out interesting enough, mentioning something about a fun fact with stunning visuals has you wanting to learn more. when the guy in the video starts on his first word, the video immediately changes to rick astley with never gonna give you up. you mutter a small fuck under your breath, gaining a bit of attention from your colleagues during lunch break.

under the table, you flip him off in a picture, which he responds with a big smile of his that’s obviously teasing you for falling for it. you’re going to get it when i get back home!!!!! on a new high, you text the message and set your phone down, already excited for the evening where’d you be able to spend your time with him.

→ HAECHAN is a mix of everything kinda. he’d bring you out after work sometimes and other times likes to stay at home, mainly takes you out to eat after work, but that’s the extent of his after-work-escapades, he doesn’t want to tire you out too much. i think one prominent things he likes to do to is vlog to you, send you videos of what he’s doing on set or at home and just treats your convo like a bank for endless videos. y’know how there’s this video feature in telegram? he sends sooo many of those that you have the time of your life watching those on the ride back home. if you have time, you HAVE to facetime him during your lunch break and tell him how you’re doing and how’s your work coming along. do i have to kick someone’s ass for making you feel uncomfortable? is that patient being creepy again? and you have to explain that haechan, no, that patient is an elderly you cannot beat his ass. he’s like i don’t care, creepy dudes are not excused!!! and you can’t help but smile at that. always wants to be talking to you, close to you. if one day, you’re able to bring him to your job, this man follows you around like a lost puppy and just admires what you do, it’s endearing.

“ah, wait- you know how the sister, xia ling was sent to shut down the ten rings army? well… i just reviewed some of the articles and-“ the video cuts into the next one, haechan’s face zoomed in as he looks straight into the camera, “y’know, she might become a villain one day, i don’t know. maybe i should review some of the comics too?”

“anyway! come look at our set for the music video! it’s sexy, outfits are fire, sets are so good, the choreo this time isn’t too hard, either.” haechan asks the other members to wave as he passes them by, no doubt going his own make-up and hair after the others were already done, “okay, gotta go- love you bye!” you smile at that, texting a quick reply before you open up a video of your own, whispering through the speaker with a promise that you’d see him tonight.

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thedamageofherdays · 3 years

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This week's (16-08-2021 - 22-08-2021) reading log is here. This week's reading log is super duper long and filled with lots of good things (my apologies for the long post, I really could not find a good spot to do a read more). I discovered some new favourites and re-read some old favourites and while I had an intense week personally at least the fics I read were absolutely phenomenal. I do recommend checking out the warnings as some fics are a bit heavier/angstier and you might wanna be prepared. Most of these fics are Stucky but there are a couple of other ships in between.

If you are looking for more fun and/or good things make sure to check out the @marveldisabilitycelebration as well to see all the awesome art, fics, meta, etcetera people created! And while I am mentioning events I am a mod for let me also just quickly mention that sign-ups for the @stuckygiftexchange are still open until the end of the month <3

Favourites are marked with a 🌻 Fics that are only available to AO3 users are marked with a 🔒 and Tumblr fics are marked with a 🍀

🌻 The Bends by dreamsinthewitchouse @dreamsinthewitchouse [Danbeau, side Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Memory is not a house you can just walk back into after finding the key you thought you’d lost. It’s a thing you wade into and out of, rewriting it as it rewrites you.

It’s not without its rewards, either - recovering a memory about Maria and Monica, about her life, feels better than socking a thousand bad guys in the face, better than all the photon blasts in the world.

Then again, realising there’s still memories she can’t access, even after all this time, feels like drowning in space.

Not the one out there - the one inside her.

🌻 Sweet & Salty by musette22 @musette22 [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Idiots in love. That's it. That's the fic.

When life gives you lemons by moonythejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 34k words, Explicit] (11/15 chapters)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

🍀 SamRhodey Tumblr Fic by ipoiledi [SamRhodey, ? words, Teen?]

“Wilson, this is Rhodey; Rhodey, Wilson,” Tony Stark says, and suddenly some six foot tall sexy guy is shoved right in front of Sam, and they both stumble a little, bumping into each other. This is a crowded party. “You guys have things in common, right?” Stark asks. “Uh, Army stuff. Talk about that. I hate wallflowers; stop wallflowering and talk to each other.”

Shorteralls by moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 6k words, Explicit]

The first time Bucky ever saw Steve Rogers, he was struck by how Neanderthal-like his response was. It was immediately followed by a bout of mental scolding. The second time was just about the same. The third time, it was actually appropriate for Bucky to start a conversation with him, at which point he was determined to be the gentleman.

No such luck. Steve Rogers is, always has been and always will be, a relentless flirt. These days, Bucky's Neanderthal-ist feelings about Steve are consensual and highly appreciated. More so now that they're having a baby.

what the fuck are perfect places anyway by tigerlilycorinne [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Steve clears his throat and stands. “Well, I should head in. I might want to begin packing.”

Bucky stills. “You won’t,” he says, trying to sound commanding. It only comes out uncertain. “Don’t.”

Steve shakes his head. “Maybe not tonight,” he says, and Bucky knows they’ll be discussing this again soon.

“Then stay. Play… play cards with me or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows jump up, his mouth tugging up in another of his bemused smiles that do things to Bucky’s insides, but he drops his hand from the doorway and steps back into Bucky’s room. Somehow, Bucky feels as if he’s won—not the war, just the battle.

Steve won’t stay forever. But he’ll stay for cards.

Steve and Bucky, on the run after Civil War (with a few alterations to canon), are laying low in Wakanda. But they can’t stay there forever.

🌻 honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch by moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 105k words, Explicit]

Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA.

Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI.

Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further.

Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.

Deep Sea Diving by Aida Ronan [Stucky, 5k words, Explicit]

Steve's wallowing in heat-related misery under a shade tree in Central Park when a man walks by in bright red booty shorts and a crop top. RIP Steve Rogers. It was nice knowing you.

honey, make this easy by steebadore [Stucky, 8k words, Explicit]

Bucky likes the way he looks. His silk button up with the tiny gold polka dots feels soft on his skin and is tailored perfectly; no pulling at his chest or belly. His hair falls in shiny dark waves and his skin is smooth and dewy. He looks expensive. He looks taken care of. He looks like Steve’s.

🌻 let's take it back to the start by howdoyousleep @howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

How it all began.

This sleepwalking through my life. by barthelme [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

The internet is an interesting place and when Bucky came home (or, when he came to live with Steve), Steve did a lot of research. Apparently, it’s not safe to wake a sleepwalker. He assumes that waking a sleepwalker with traumatic dreams and PTSD is beyond just being frowned upon.

And he tells himself--has told himself--that this is safer for Bucky. That if he were to stop him and wake him up, that Bucky would be mortified to be slurping on his best friend’s cock. That all of the improvements he’s made would be lost, would be repressed, would be just--

They’d be back at square one.

So he lets Bucky do it.

🌻 the way i've been craving by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

"Lunch break at 12:30. My office. Hope you’re hungry…"

It’s the ellipsis that sends Bucky’s insides swimming warmly, his heart beating twice as fast against his ribs where he sits in class. Senator Rogers is concise, direct, to the point. Without an ellipsis this is lunch, this is a meeting. With it though?

This is a booty call.

nasty but classy by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

“No, you don’t have to know the purpose, that doesn’t matter. Nat showed me this challenge where couples drink a lot of wine and get drunk together but they can’t touch each other. And whoever touches the other first has to...has to give the other head.”

🌻 Put It on Repeat, It Stays the Same by giselleslash [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Steve and Bucky have a one night stand that turns into a friends with benefits situation. A weekend snowed in at Bucky’s apartment brings to light how much that really doesn’t suit either one of them.

Greetings to the New Brunette by victoria_p (musesfool) [Stucky, 10k words, General]

"You said he should have a hobby. That it would help."

"I meant, like, knitting or coin collecting. Motocross, if he was feeling antsy. A baby's not a hobby. It's lifetime commitment."

🌻 Rogers & Barnes: Partners by triedunture [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky have to pose as a couple for a mission. Nat insists it really is the only option. She's checked.

The complication: unbeknownst to even Natasha, Steve and Bucky's friendship has been rocky ever since Bucky confessed his tender feelings and Steve left him out in the cold. Can asexual, completely-in-love-with-his-angry-best-friend Steve complete the mission and win Bucky's heart?

(The answer is yes. Yay!)

this will be our year (took a long time to come) by biblionerd07 [Stucky, 4k words, General]

Bucky's therapist is worried he's using Steve as a crutch and wants him to try going on outings without Steve. It wouldn't be terrible, honestly, if Bucky could just manage to open his mouth and say something to Steve.

I'll hold my breath by Little_Lottie (tfwatson) [Stucky, 8k words, Mature]

Sometimes Bucky’s hands flex in Steve's direction. Neither of them knows exactly why, but at least one of them has a hunch.

Bucky touches everything but Steve, even though Steve is all he really wants to touch.

Start from the Beginning by Mumble_Bee [Stucky, 13k words, Explicit]

What about a sex pollen fic where the pollen-ed one doesn’t remember getting hit in the face with a sex flower, and wakes up midway through the depollenating?

Or: the one where Steve wakes up on his back with a stranger buried balls-deep in his ass.

Match by emphasisonem [Stucky, 4k words, Mature]

The situation’s actually kind of funny from the right perspective, Bucky thinks as he reads the message for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s finally matched with a hot, funny guy. Tall and broad and clean cut. An absolutely breathtaking smile. Bucky’s walking wet dream. And he’s good. They haven’t messaged on the app, but Bucky already knows him.

He knows him because Steve Rogers is an art history professor at his university. His art history professor.

Best friends and married since childhood by StuckySituation [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Inspired by @/peterssquill's post in tumblr: "bucky and steve got married on the playground when they were like eight and though neither of them would ever admit it to anyone, even each other, they still consider it official"

~♥~ ♥~ ♥~

“Natasha, stop trying to set me up with every woman you meet, I’m-”

“Too shy? Too scared?”

“No, I’m-”

“Too busy? You’re mostly retired these days, not a good excuse anymore.” Natasha smirks and then drawls: “Or just too gay?”

Steve flushes at that, even if isn’t true -- he’s bisexual, not gay. “Let it go, Nat, I’m not looking for anything. I’m already married, for fuck’s sake.”

Clearly not what she expected. “What.”

Steve grimaces. He didn’t mean to tell anyone that, ever.

“Sorry, can’t talk about it right now!” he says and jumps out of the plane.

Nobody Should Be Alone on a Holiday by emphasisonem [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

“So, um-” Bucky begins speaking again, pulling Steve from his less-than-work-appropriate thoughts. The brunet has shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks, and he’s shifting from one foot to the other as he smiles shyly. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” Steve grins, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Bucky swallows deeply as one of his hands comes up to pull at the collar of his button-up, and Steve can’t help following the motion of his Adam’s apple.

“I was, uh-” Bucky continues- “That is, I heard you don’t have Thanksgiving plans?”

In which Bucky finds out that Steve's going to be alone on Thanksgiving and invites his coworker to spend the holiday with him.

🌻 It's Been A Long Season Through by thiccbuckybarnes @thiccbuckybarnesfic [Stucky, 49k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes is in desperate need of a change in scenery, which is why he makes the foolhardy decision to quit his job, leave his asshole of a fiance, pack up his life, and move to his grandfather’s old farm all within a single day.

He expects confusion, hardship, and maybe even failure. But love? He wasn’t expecting that.

Or, a Stucky Stardew Valley AU that nobody but me wanted and that’s ok.

oh, peach pit, where'd the hours go? by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 10k words, Explicit]

Can't see the forest for the trees.

Or, Steve learns that just because he and Bucky got their happily ever after, it doesn’t mean the past won’t come back to bite them.

I'll find my way by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 725 words, Teen]

Steve had watched Bucky fall, and nothing had been the same since.

AU-gust day 19: Daemons

special delivery by glim @glim [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

It's not that Steve's bad at taking care of himself when he gets sick; he just wishes he didn't have to all the time.

At least he can order most of what he needs online. That's some small comfort, that he can have soup and ice cream and everything else brought to his door.

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 8k words, Explicit]

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

🌻 Rock On! by millesable @marvelousescapism [Clintasha, 700 words, General]

“Hey, Romanoff!”

He lifted his hand, index finger and pinky finger raised, thumb out, all other fingers tucked. Their secret sign; their confession for the world to see, safe in the knowledge that the world wasn’t listening.

“Rock on!”

🌻 You Like the Way I Look by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

Bucky sidles up to him, hand boldly coming to rest on his chest. “What about you, big guy? Care for a dance?” Steve watches Bucky’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction, somehow already knowing he’s got Steve on the hook.

A decade out of the ice, Steve Rogers returns to New York. Reeling from a battle against the Chitauri, a night with the troublesome Bucky Barnes might be just what he needs.

Join the Rebellion by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 765 words, Teen]

Bucky knew he shouldn't be out after curfew, but he couldn't resist the urge. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew it was where he wanted to be.

AU-gust day 20: Dystopia

🔒 Five Days in December by mywingsareonwheels @mywingsareonwheels [Evanstan, 4k words, Teen]

“Shit shit shit shit...” muttered Chris to himself, glad that the sound of piped Christmas carols was drowning out his swearing amid the picture books. Most of the store was heaving even though it was Sunday, he’d been recognised at least three times, finding presents for all of his nieces and nephews was proving far more of a headache than expected, and he’d just sent a pile of copies of "Strictly No Elephants" tumbling off the bookshelf.

He scrambled about trying to pick them all up, and then dropped them again as someone bumped right into his backside. He lost his balance, caught himself against a bookcase, and a landslide of "Carter Is a Painter’s Cat" joined "Strictly No Elephants" on the floor. He yelped.

“Ah fuck, I’m so sorry… Chris!”

* * * * * * * * * *

London, December 2021. Amid cats, books, and the cold English drizzle, Chris finds everything he was hoping for and thought he would never have.

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

Reaching for Fire by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit]

Bucky has always felt a fire in his heart (and other body parts) when it came to his boss, Steve Rogers, but he's made sure to never feed those flames. When he finds out about Steve's second job, though, he's tempted to let that fire out.

i've been dreaming of a face like yours by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

Bucky is about to busy himself with making a small dinner for himself when he stops in his tracks at the figure drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and smirking at him.

It’s Steve.

“Surprise, sweet boy,” he says before setting his cup down.

Or, PWP reunion sex

🌻 Somewhere, Under Your Skin by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 16k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes treats himself to a one-night stand after having a very bad no good day.

The sex is good--great, even. Might be the best sex of his life.

But Bucky wouldn’t have slept with the guy if he had known that he was going to continuously run into him every day for the next fucking month.

Or, a Big Grump Bucky has a hot one night stand with a college kid who is popping up everywhere in his everyday life and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

(Written for HYBB Bingo Square: Grumpy Bucky)

i've played heartstrings before but not in your key by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 11k words, Explicit]

He glances down, seeing a folded couple of papers, before peering up at Bucky. The older man is biting his bottom lip, making it pretty and red. Steve wants to run his tongue across where his teeth are digging into his flesh.

"What's this?" Steve asks, setting his phone down, emails forgotten. Bucky shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno. You tell me, genius," he says, sounding bratty enough that it makes Steve's dick twitch in his pants. Jesus, there has to be something wrong with him.

Steve glances once more at Bucky, who now has his arms crossed against his chest and is pointedly not looking at Steve, before picking up the stack of folded papers. He opens them, seeing a collection of maybe five or six sheets of paper. His eyes immediately land on the list of familiar words with negative next to each one. -- Or, Steve Rogers is a jealous, possessive little shit that wants nothing more than to mark up his boyfriend and stake his claim. And Bucky knows it. (And he likes it.)

🌻 I'm Home (With You) by BonkyBornes @padfoot-and-the-marauders [Stucky, 2k words, General]

In any other circumstance, the apartment would've been perfect. But it was today, and the fact that he was here meant he wasn’t out searching. He knew they hadn’t had any leads for weeks and he knew Natasha was right; all three of them were exhausted and a break would do them good. It just felt wrong to Steve that he was comfortable while Bucky was still out there—somewhere. Probably cold. Probably hungry.

The knock came again. Sighing, Steve unwrapped his hand from the dog tags and remembered how to move. Cold wind and snow greeted him when he opened the door. The solitary figure was walking down the steps, collar popped against the chill.

“Did you need something?” he called.

The person stopped. They were still. And then they turned. *

Or, the Christmas Steve deserved after Winter Soldier.

The portrait by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 915 words, General]

Steve Rogers has a Gift. He can help people find their soulmates, all he needs is some art supplies, a quiet place, and eye contact.

AU-gust day 21: soulmates

Maybe A Muse by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 2k words, Mature]

When Bucky Barnes needs extra money, he’s appalled that his best friends think he should become a model for the art department on campus. Shy, nerdy, and socially awkward, he’s not sure that’s something he feels comfortable doing. Still, he needs money, and he likes the idea of becoming someone’s muse. The problem is he had no idea two things would happen. First, one of the students in the class is exactly his type; second, he has to model nude.

#my reading log #r's reading log #fic rec #stucky fic rec #fics recs #stucky #danbeau #samrhodey #longpost #long post #clintasha #evanstan

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hournites · 3 years

Text

Hands Off the Wheel

Hournite fluff ~ ❤️

~.~

When she gets there, Yolanda shoves his bag on the coffee table over to dump her own, giving Rick the boot on the sofa to make room for her.

“Where’s Beth?” She reaches for the blanket throw, tossing it over her legs and pulls out her phone.

“Library.”

Yolanda glances up from her Instagram feed.

Rick scowls, her unsaid words irritating him. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“I know,” Rick bites out. “I mean it this time.”

“You can’t hide this forever.”

“I can, actually.”

Courtney walks in with the cookies from her mom. Yolanda picks a soft one from the corner while Rick scoops up five at once.

“Are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?”

“Yes,” Yolanda says at the same time Rick says, “No.”

The girls share a look.

Courtney teeters on the arm of the sofa, something she’d been scolded not to do five hundred times by Pat but has yet to listen. “We can help you if you want.”

Rick stops eating cookies to lick at his chocolate-stained thumb. “How?”

“Well…” Courtney crosses a leg over the other. “We can drop hints about it, warm her up to the idea…”

Rick leans back against the sofa and closes his eyes with a soft groan. “You make it sound like it’s something she needs to be warmed up to.”

“No!” Courtney backtracks when Yolanda lets out a little laugh.

“No! That’s not what I mean!”

“It’s what you said, Court.”

Courtney throws a half-moist cookie at Yolanda, earning a high shriek in response as she wipes chocolate out of her hair.

Rick lets out a weary sigh, palms still pressed over his eyes. “Maybe I’m overthinking this and it’s just something I’ll get rid of. I don’t need to tell Beth at all. We can forget it ever happened.”

“Tell me what?”

They all jump.

“Jesus!” Rick yelps as his face warms. “How long have you been there?”

Beth stands in the doorway next to Pat, Chuck perched on top of her coiffed hair. She slides her backpack down her arm to smile confusedly at her friends. “A few seconds?” She looks up at Pat. “My bike had a flat. Pat drove me in.”

“A flat!?” Courtney exclaims. “Are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” Pat says, heading into the kitchen for the source of the cookie scent, the plate between the teens empty with crumbs.

Beth waves off her concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. What does Rick want to tell me?”

Yolanda looks at Rick who looks at Courtney who looks back at Rick.

“Um,” he says.

“He likes your outfit?” Yolanda fills in. She gets up and leaves the awkward room.

Beth doesn’t buy it, folding her arms over her blue striped blouse. “What’s so odd about that?”

“Nothing,” Rick reassures her, wiping his sweaty hands against his jeans. “It’s um. Can I talk to you, outside? Alone?”

Beth tilts her head at him. “...Why?”

“Because I want to tell you that thing. That I need to tell you.”

Courtney stares at them, fixated.

“It’s nothing bad!” she blurts out when Beth catches her eye.

Her shoulders relax and she agrees, walking back out with Rick.

“Did I say something to bother you or something or maybe Chuck went out of line? Because obviously I’m missing something and everyone else knows and I get that I usually miss some stuff sometimes but this feels really weird and I’m sorry if I—”

“I built you a car.”

Beth blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

Rick swallows. “A car. I fixed one up for you. I know you didn’t ask but you’ve been studying for your license and then I had a few parts and then a few weeks went by and suddenly I had a Dodge Challenger in my driveway...”

Her expressive eyes are round and wide, Rick can’t tell what she’s thinking when her mouth parts like that. He shifts his weight from one foot to another, trying not to panic. “Look, Beth, I know you didn’t ask for a car, certainly not from me, but it just sort of happened, so....”

The gears turned slowly in her head. “You built me. A car. From car parts. For me.”

“...You don’t have to accept it. I can probably sell it off or something—”

Beth’s hands are in her afro, processing Rick’s words at last and shrieks. Rick startles, taking a step back. “Are you kidding?” She cries. “You built me a car?!”

“I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry!?” Beth launches at him, hugging him hard enough for Rick to stumble backwards. “Don’t be sorry!”

Rick wasn’t yet prepared to have her in his arms, but she’s squeezing so fiercely he can’t help but hug her just as tight. “So you’re not weirded out?”

Beth laughs and pulls away, staring out across the street before turning back. “I don’t know what to say!” She hits his arm excitedly. “Rick!! That’s crazy! You’re amazing! Why would you do that for me?”

“You’re the only one I ever really want to make things for,” he answers honestly.

A huge grin breaks across her face and then she’s reaching up to hug him again. “What colour is it?”

Rick fights back his smirk. “Green for Dr. Mid-Nite? It matches your suit.”

“Riiiiick!” She squeals, jumping up and down in an exuberant happy dance and puts a hand to her face and sits down. “I need a second.”

Rick watches as she stares wide-eyed at her shoes, processing the information.

“It’s just a car.”

“It is not just a car and you know it! It’s a car!” She slaps her hands over her cheeks. “Oh my gosh!”

“Do you wanna see it?”

“Yes!”

They get ready to go. Courtney and Yolanda peek out the front window of the living room with a second batch of cookies, giving Rick very annoying, very knowing looks.

Yolanda’s nose scrunches up with amusement when Beth runs out with her purse and straps herself into Rick’s passenger seat, honking on the horn to get Rick to pick up the pace and drive her to West Farms.

“Sounds like she’s pretty happy ‘bout that car,” she says.

They toss his keys through the window. Rick twirls them around his hand with a half-hearted eye roll when Courtney starts making kissing noises at him.

~.~

“You pushed the seat up!” Beth palms at the steering wheel as she gets a feel for the make, grinning from ear to ear.

Rick watches with his chin propped up by his hand, elbow over the black horizontal stripes on the hood with an easy smile. “Course I did. You’re tiny.”

He’s rewarded with a splutter behind the dashboard. “And it’s safe?”

“Pat looked it over after I did.”

She checks for herself anyway and Rick is proud of her for it, scanning the interior, exterior and engine with the X-Ray vision mode of her goggles.

They go for a test drive around the wide roads of the Farm Lands, Rick answering her questions as they pop up. She still needs to pass her final test for her licence next month, but he’s not worried about that. Beth had a round of anxiety behind the wheel when she first started learning, but with Rick and, surprisingly, Mike’s encouragement (definitely not Courtney’s), she managed to push through. Beth parks along the dirt stretch of Rick’s property and sighs like a dream.

“You were great. You looked comfortable.”

Beth ducks her head with a timid smile at his praise. Her hands fall to her lap and she squeezes her fingers together over her navy blue flared pants. “I can’t believe you did this all by yourself.”

Rick shrugs, somehow more embarrassed now than before trying to choke the words out on Courtney’s front porch. “It’s just a 2008. It’s not fancy.”

All of the parts might’ve come from Zeek’s junkyard but Beth doesn’t seem to care how it was made by her reverence. “Yes, it is.” Her hand runs along the leather seat and rests it on the centre console. “It’s beautiful, Rick.”

She laughs. It’s contagious and strings him along until her giddiness simmers down and looks at him some more with that appraising eye of hers. Rick wants to look out the window to diffuse the sudden heat when she does that. He can’t. He wants to suffer in it.

“I think I’m in love.”

Her smile is soft and light and as the sun sets orange outside behind her, Rick is compelled to agree.

“Good. I’m glad you like it so much.”

Beth bites her lip and nods. Her fingers start to tap, and Rick frowns at them, wondering why she’s picking up the tick she developed before she was at ease in the driver’s seat.

“What?” he prods when Beth goes silent, concerned. “Beth?”

“Yeah, um…” Beth looks out the window, at Rick’s house and his yellow Mustang a little further ahead. The expanse of field and the dusk horizon overhead. Beth meets his caring gaze. And the power in it pulls him forward unwittingly. Her intensity has him breathless.

She takes his hand to squeeze. “I’m not talking about the car.”

~.~

“Did it work?” Court cajoles when Rick comes back through the front. “Did Beth kiss you?”

He blushes, moving past her to get his bag.

“That’s not why I built it,” he complains for the hundredth time.

“She kissed him,” Yolanda decides without even looking up from her phone, still snuggled into the spot she stole from him on the couch. “Beth just posted the relationship on Facebook.”

Court sticks out her tongue and fake gags. “Beth still uses Facebook?”

“Hey.” Rick swipes the final cookie from the counter as she continues with her theatrics. “Pat uses Facebook.”

Courtney groans. “That’s my point!”

Rick walks out. “Later.”

Yolanda sits up straight. “What? Where are you going?”

“Well...Beth took the car to her house so....” Rick stops at the doorway, donning a stupid smirk as it properly sinks in. “I gotta drive my girlfriend’s bike home.”

#beth chapel #rick tyler #hournite #rick x beth #hn fic #hournites fic #fluff #stargirl

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dc41896 · 3 years

Text

Goodnight and Go

Something quick I thought of inspired by “goodnight no’ go” by Ariana Grande. Hope you guys like it☺️!

Pairing: handyman!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Mentions of drinking, brief mention of an injury/blood, fluff💕!

Tell me why you gotta look at me that way

You know what it does to me

So baby, what you tryna say?

Lately, all I want is you on top of me

You know where your hands should be

So baby, won't you come show me?

Chris: You have enough water right? And food in case the storm gets too bad?

Y/N: Yes dad I have everything I need lol

Chris: Smh the thanks I get for caring😤

Y/N: Aww you really do love me🥰!

Chris: ....go to bed Y/N lol

Y/N: What about you? If you need anything I can share

Y/N: You don’t have any jobs tonight right?

Chris: I’m fine, but thanks for the offer😊 and just one. It shouldn’t take long though

Chris: Aww is someone worried about me??😏

Y/N: 🙄 No...I just didn’t want you to be out in the middle of all the snow and get stuck somewhere then I’m left trying to dig you out

Chris: That sounds like you were worried 😉

Y/N: 😑 I’m going to bed now, goodnight sir lol

Chris: Lol goodnight. I’ll check on you tomorrow💙

Reading the message one last time before tucking your phone under your pillow, you softly smile imagining the way his pink lips were probably curled into a smirk with his teasing and little jokes. And how his voice tended to drop a couple steps above a whisper whenever he told you goodnight, leaving you flustered with tingles spreading over your body.

Oh, why'd you have to be so cute?

It's impossible to ignore you,

Why must you make me laugh so much?

It's bad enough we get along so well

Things had been this way for a while now. Specifically since college.

Although you knew each other in high school, due to him and your older brother being best friends, it wasn’t until college that you both started this unspoken “flirtationship”. You could go back and forth all day, but still neither of you would make the first move. Lately though, you could feel yourself inching closer and closer to finally taking that risk.

However, the thought of you two just being something fun to him and nothing more quickly halted your progress making your stomach queasy. You knew he wasn’t a player and had seen up close how sweet and caring he was, not wanting to hurt anyone, but still what if he didn’t want anything serious right now or to be tied down?

Before your anxious thoughts could take over, you force your eyes shut burying your face into your pillow with a sigh, letting the howling wind brushing against your window drift you off to sleep.

One of these days

You'll miss your train and come stay with me

(It's always say goodnight and go)

We'll have drinks and talk about things

And any excuse to stay awake with you

And you'd sleep here, I'd sleep there

But then the heating may be down again

(At my convenience)

We'd be good, we'd be great together

Knees up to your chest and comforter pulled as close as possible to your chin, your shivers make it impossible to go back to sleep. You could’ve sworn you turned the heater on before getting in bed, and even double checked.

So why did it feel like you were trapped in a meat locker?

Padding across the cold carpeted floor with your purple comforter tightly wrapped around your body, you find your thermostat indeed set to 75 and heat, but the temperature inside reading 57 degrees.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you say to yourself pressing the arrows up and down to see if anything would happen. Unfortunately, it remained unmoved showing you that your thermostat was definitely broken.

Rushing back to your bed before your feet could freeze anymore, you recover your phone from its hiding place quickly pressing Chris’ number.

“Yea?,” he asks, voice laced with sleep making you feel guilty for waking him.

“Oh, uh sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. Everything alright?”

“Um well my thermostat is broken and it’s freezing. But if you can’t make it till the morning-,”

“No I’ll be over in a few, just sit tight,” he yawns. You can hear the phone shift against his ear as he moves about collecting his things.

“You sure? It’s one a.m. and I know you’re probably tired.”

“Y/N it’s fine, plus you just live down the hall it’s nothing for me to come by and look,” he chuckles.

“Alright see you in a few.”

Within the next minute, he was at your door in his navy blue sweatpants and plain grey long sleeve shirt that seemingly clung to every muscle of his arms and chest with his toolbox in hand. If it wasn’t for the unbearable cold and your involuntary shivering, the sight would’ve had more of an effect of you than it currently did.

“Well, good news is that it’s an easy fix,” he speaks placing the wires back inside before screwing the cover back on the thermostat. “Bad news is I need to get the piece you need from the store which won’t be open until the morning. That is if they can with all the snow.”

“So basically I’m stuck being a popsicle for the night.”

“If you want to stay, yea. Or you can stay at my place. Unless you’re not comfortable with that then I completely understand.”

“Chris I’ve known you forever, and honestly would choose you to share a room with over my own brother,” you answer quickly getting your phone and keys before putting on your slides.

“Really?,” he asks amused.

“Yea. I know you won’t try to stick anything in my ear or mess with me somehow while I’m sleeping. Unless you’re now thinking of doing said things, which in that case I have no problem sleeping in my car.”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it sweetheart.” His deep chuckle as he wraps an arm around your shoulders rubbing up and down your arm trying to warm you bring back those familiar tingles as he leads you down the quiet hall to his apartment.

Entering the familiar space, you instantly sigh as your body begins to thaw in the warmth of his apartment. His body leaving your side to grab the couple throw blankets he had draped over his couch brings a sudden chill, making you hope he’d come back soon.

Wrapping both blankets around you, his arms bring you into his broad chest as close as possible tightly, but comfortably, trapping you in a hug.

“Better?,” he asks, head resting on top of yours while his large palm moves back and forth on your back.

“Mhm, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Standing there breathing in his faint woodsy scent still lingering after being worn all day, it’s the most comfortable you’ve been all night.

Well, looking past the current ache in your legs beginning to set in that is.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“Although this is nice, my legs are starting to go numb,” you softly giggle watching as he pulled away with light red cheeks.

“Oh right, sorry. Um you can take the bed, I’ll stay out here,” he answers moving towards his couch.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, just come on we can share. It’s not like we haven’t before.”

“That was an accident though, and on your part,” he smirks.

“No, it was actually you who ended up in the wrong room. Figures you don’t remember correctly since you were a bit under the influence,” you smirk back making him shake his head.

In truth, both of you were a bit drunk. Not enough to completely forget the entire night, but enough that any and everything was hilariously funny and sentences were a little difficult to get out clearly. What started with the two of you trying to watch a movie in your brother’s guest bedroom, turned into both of you knocking out in the middle of your conversation having not even pressed play.

A couple hours passed before his blue eyes peaked through his lids. He couldn’t stop the sleepy smile that crept on his lips noting how yours lied pouted against the pillow and nostrils would occasionally flare in the most adorable way from your breathing. He didn’t mean to stare, but how you could look so perfect while sleeping just made him want to hold you closer.

“Now that I think about it, all this isn’t some plan to get me in bed is it?,” he jokes sliding into his king sized bed at the same time as you.

“Wow, you caught me. I messed up my own thermostat nearly giving myself hypothermia just so I could get to you and these striped sheets. Gee, you’re better than Sherlock Holmes,” you retort sarcastically as his head falls back in laughter. Gathering your half of the sheets around you, you lie on the blue pillow gazing at Chris fluffing his before lying down as well.

“You still have it.”

“Have what?”

Taking his hand in yours, his eyebrow rises and heartbeat quickens watching you extend his arm to trace over the discolored scar still near the fold of his arm.

You could vividly remember that night as if it happened minutes ago. Him attempting a keg stand with your brother holding his legs while cheering him on, along with everyone else watching, before ultimately falling awkwardly. Somehow his arm hit the nozzle leaving a gash that oozed blood, and you trying your best to dress his wound using tape and bunches of toilet tissue in the host’s bathroom.

“Oh that,” he smiles as your thumb continues to graze over the spot. “It’s my little reminder.”

“To make sure your spotter has a good grip next time?,” you ask making him chuckle.

“That...and other stuff. Like how it’s nice to have someone there for you.”

Feeling him shift closer to you, you look up to meet his eyes gazing at you in a way you’d never experienced from him before. The usual softness was there, but as his lips curled into that adorable, heart melting tired smile, admiration seemed to be there as well. Something similar to watching the sunset and the sky transition from blue to the lightest shades of pink and purple.

“And that not all dumb decisions end in disaster,” he adds in a husky whisper.

Know you're thinking' 'bout it, baby, just one kiss

While you're lookin' at 'em, baby, read my lips

“It would’ve been nice for you to realize that before we had to play ER,” you whisper back.

“Then what would’ve been the fun in that?,” he smirks. “Plus deep down, I think you like always being there with the bandaid for us...or one of us at least.”

You’re not really sure which one of you leans in first, but soon your lips are connected moving in perfect sync. His thumb runs back and forth against your cheek bone as you cling to his shirt closing the remaining gap between you. Finally pausing for air, you stay close lifting your finger to trace his now swollen lips.

“There might be a teeny, tiny possibility you’re right,” you smile before feeling his lips on yours again.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

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goryroyalty · 3 years

Text

One of *Those* Days

High school au, (though it's never specifically said in the story.) Angst/some fluff.

Depressed Roman, self-deprecating(?) thoughts (Idk, just depressing and insulting thoughts), food mention, only one swear, I think? Did I miss anything?

Roman is having a rough morning and Remus comes to comfort them. (Also, both of them fall somewhere under the non-binary umbrella, though their exact labels are never stated.)

(I'm venting a bit tbh. I don't do this as much anymore, but I used to do it almost everyday. It sucked.)

Copper eyes fluttered open to find their room lit up with early morning light filtering through the gap between the room darkening curtains. Funny, last they remembered it was five in the morning and now- their phone screen lit up- it was almost eight o'clock. The house was silent as their parents had already left for work. They weren't aware their child had only just woke up eight minutes before school started. They had no intention of going either.

Roman sighed, a heavy feeling in their chest, and rolled onto their side. They shoved their phone under their pillow and stared at the wall blankly. Simply rolling over had taken every ounce of motivation they had. Now, all they could do was lie in bed and let their mind wander. The heavy feeling had spread throughout their entire body. It almost hurt. Their thoughts weren't focused on anything particular for a long time, just wandering aimlessly. Their phone vibrated from under the pillow, but they made no effort to grab it. At least not for a while. A few more vibrations later, their arm moved slowly when curiosity gave them some motivation to grab their phone and unlock it.

ChaosBabe (idk, I'm not good at coming up with nicknames)

u not at school 2day?

8:01

btw it/its 2day

8:01

ur missin out on Nerd gettin heated bout the way i txt again

8:03

u ok? pls respond

8:10

Roman thought of words to reply back, but their fingers didn't move to text them. Typing 'Yeah, just want to stay home.' felt like too much work, even just typing a simple yes or no was too much. Roman sighed and exited their messages, clicking on Tumblr. It didn't take long to scroll down to where they had started last night. They went to the top, refreshed a couple times, and exited the app. They stared at their wallpaper, which was Disney themed, of course, until their phone locked. They opened it again and went to Instagram. They scrolled through every social media they had with a blank stare.

15% of battery remaining

Roman dismissed the alert, getting another notification immediately after.

ChaosBabe

Ro, pls let me know if you need anything. I mean it: anything.

12:27

The teen in bed hummed, wondering how it'd passed noon already. Still, they didn't move from where they lie. Well, they did finally roll over onto their other side. They found them-self back on Tumblr again, scrolling through the posts they'd already seen. Their phone screen flashed with the screen that said the phone's type before turning completely black. Roman let out a long sigh and let go of their phone, not caring much when it slid off onto the floor.

'Well, this is pathetic, isn't it?' Roman thought, 'I can't even drag myself out of bed. This is so stupid. Just get up and get going. Why am I so lazy all the time?'

Roman's train of thought continued on that downhill track. Soon, the track ended and it was just free-fall. Tears came to Roman's copper-colored eyes but didn't fall. They felt tired, but sleep did not come. Was it really a sleepy tired, or was it simply just...tired? Roman thought it might be both. Their stomach growled, pulling their thoughts to some coherency again. They focused on food for a few moments before their mind wandered off into a daydream.

The front door opening jump-started Roman's brain. 'Did Dad come home early or is it really already five? I didn't do any chores today. Shit.'

Roman rolled over and buried their face in their pillows, not wanting to hear about how they hadn't done dishes or vacuumed or whatever hadn't visibly been done. 'Maybe, just maybe, he'll think I'm asleep and leave me alone. Or even realize something is wrong and try to comfort me? But what is wrong and how would I want to be comforted by him?'

Roman's bedroom door opened and footsteps neared their bed. They were a bit confused when the person slid in bed beside them until they heard the slight groan as they stretched, "Mm, your bed is so soft. Feels amazing."

Roman relaxed at the realization it was only Remus. They immediately thought how they wanted to turn and cuddle it. They did at least shift onto their back, staring up at the ceiling. Remus draped an arm across them, "So...one of those days? Any way that I can help?"

'Hold me. Drag me out of bed. Slap me. Shake me like a rag doll until I stop this pity party of mine.' Roman replied in their head, but their mouth felt like it couldn't move. They wanted so desperately to say something. Anything at this point. Remus sat up and shifted to look down at them, smiling softly and running a hand through their auburn hair. Roman cringed inside at the realization it was most likely greasy. They hadn't showered for a few days. Same with brushing their teeth. Their breath was going to be awful too. Roman closed their eyes as tears came to them when they thought: 'I'm disgusting.'

"Love, if I ask yes or no questions, will you answer them? You don't have to speak. You can find another way to say yes or no." Remus stroked their jaw, studying them for some movement that could be a reply. Roman's tears disappeared and they focused their thoughts on Remus' words, trying to find some will to move. They shifted their arm to rest their hand on their stomach, tapping their index against it once. "Okay, first let me make sure: what is yes?"

Roman tapped once. Remus nodded and hummed, "And no?"

Roman tapped twice. They felt a little silly if they were honest. Remus kissed their forehead, "Good, good. Okay, have you eaten today?"

Two taps.

"Do you want food?"

Roman hesitated, knowing they needed it but did they really want it? They tapped three times.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe' or 'don't know'. Next question, is there something you want me to do for you?"

Another three taps.

"Cuddle you? Carry you out of bed? Bring in food to you?" Remus rambled off the first ideas that came to its mind.

One tap. Pause. One tap. Pause. Two taps.

Remus lied back down, pulling Roman close and kissing their head a couple times. Roman felt the tears come back again, a couple escaping this time before they went away. They hated how pathetic and lazy they felt. Remus sat up with Roman still in its arms, lifting them up as it got to its feet. Roman wrapped their arms around it and buried their face in its shoulder. "Want food, Ro?"

Roman nodded, relieved at the slight progress already. Remus carried them out to the kitchen and set them on a bar stool, "Know what you want?"

Roman shrugged, looking down at the counter with a feeling of guilt and shame building up inside. Remus rubbed their back, "I'll look at what you have and list stuff off then, yeah? Or do you want to look with me or by yourself?"

Roman bit their lip as it trembled a bit. They rested their arms on the counter and buried their face into them. For the first time all day they spoke, though it was only a whisper: "Sorry."

"It's okay, Love, you don't have to apologize. I promise, I really don't mind." Remus hugged them, kissing their shoulder. "I told you I'd do anything for you. I love you, Roman."

"Love you." Roman whispered back, having to clear their throat due to not using their voice for so long. They sat up a little, "I'll look."

After a while of looking through the fridge and pantry a few times, Roman was finally settled on the bar stool with leftovers in front of them. Remus sat beside them, rubbing their back as they slowly ate. Halfway through, Roman spoke again, "I don't like that feeling. I feel so heavy yet empty at the same time. I can't move or speak or do anything. I hate it. I couldn't even reply to you, even though I really wanted to. Everything just feels...too much. It all feels like too much."

"Do you think you could even just text one letter? I was thinking we could come up with a code for when you felt like this. Like one letter means you want me to leave you alone, another for if you just want me to text or call, and another if you want me to come over. I'm honestly not entirely sure how to help or make it go away, but I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll always be here for you. No matter what, 'kay? Just say the word and I'll do it."

"Thank you, Remus." Roman hugged it, sniffling a bit. "You're more than I deserve."

"I disagree. I think we're practically perfect for each other." Remus hugged them back tightly.

"Practically perfect in every way." Roman mumbled with a slight chuckle.

"Exactly, Mary Poppins." Remus smiled, "Exactly."

Weird ending, sorry.

#remrom #romrem #romantic remrom

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sammyxorae · 4 years

Text

Falling For You - Chapter 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: cussing, kissing, fluff

Summary: This chapter is literally a filler chapter, it kind of sucks but oh well. Spencer x Y/N learn they have more in common than they thought when it comes to life experiences, but they also learn more about each other and their feelings. :P

***

Spencer came back into the living/family room. He looked upset but in deep thought.

“Hey, are you ok?” you asked as he came over and sat down next to you.

You could tell he was really holding back, but you stayed quiet now. Spencer rubbed his face and began talking about his Mom going missing.

“I’ve had some stuff go on in the last couple of months and because of the nature of my job, sometimes the people I care about also get affected by it. Now she is missing and we can’t find her,” he went on, you could see tears running down his face. You lightly put your hand on his knee, not wanting to startle him.

“You don’t have to tell me everything if you’re not comfortable, I understand. Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone to be around,” you said in a calm, soothing voice. This was one of those times that you were glad that empathy was a natural gift for you, but not because of being a therapist, just that you really did feel for Spencer.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic and although many individuals who aren’t being treated are more likely to leave where they’re staying and get lost, she is getting treated and staying somewhere. She was being watched by someone, who I was paying to stay at my house while I was working during the day. It was safe there…” he quietly spoke, doubting his own words, “or so I thought…”

“I’m sorry Spencer, I really am, but I also understand what you’re going through. My mom has schizophrenia and I’ve seen her have episodes and run away, even when she was on medications and being treated. Growing up I had to pretend that my mom was just on vacation somewhere and that no one could come over. I also know what it’s like to have someone go missing. My best friend had a habit of doing that when we were kids, but one day she was finally taken from her Dad and placed with someone else. Losing someone regardless is scary.” You empathize with him and share a very deep part of that you didn’t normally let out. It felt like taking a breath of fresh air, someone who wasn’t going to judge you.

“I hate to do this to you, but I do have to leave. I have to go into work even though I’m supposed to be on ‘leave.’ Hopefully I can find my Mom,” his eyes showed exhaustion but looked at you as if they were smiling. It made you blush and you couldn’t hide it, making him chuckle.

“Of course you can go,” you smiled, still blushing by the looks that he kept giving you.

“I’m going to stay a little bit longer, they said they don’t need me until 8am and it’s 5:30am. But when I leave, I could always come back later. It shouldn’t take long. Here’s my number though,” he took out his phone and grabbed yours on the table, putting each other's information in both. “As long as that’s okay of course. I don’t want to intrude,” he looked at you again.

You can stay as long as you want with the way you keep looking at me. Stop Y/N. Reel it back. You smiled at him, grabbing his hand again, “of course you can come back over. I’d love that. Again, I’m really sorry about everything you’re going through.”

Normally you don’t just hug someone randomly, especially because some people don’t respond to touch well, but you just had this instinct driving inside of you to hug him. At first his response was to jolt, to the point you almost stopped, but then he put his arms around you, pulling you into him like you were when you woke up a half hour ago. Have you ever just met someone and immediately you feel comfortable with them? No matter what is going on and how upset you may be, they find a way to soothe you, to the point you couldn’t get mad at them? Well, that’s how you felt with Spencer.

“You know, I don’t normally do well with touch. It normally bothers me, but I didn’t feel that way with you,” he looked at you again, and damn was that man making you melt into a puddle of water.

You decided to be brave, reached for his face and kissed him. His lips were soft and he was more than willing to return the kiss. You smiled as you pecked a few at each other and you could feel the heat rising in your body.

Spencer began to speak softly, “There’s a possibility you may be feeling this way because of me saving you. I’m sure you’ve heard of transference be-” you shut him up by kissing him more. This time with more force and moving your body up so that you could straddle his lap. You felt the pain on your knee and leg from the day before, but told yourself to shut up and continue before the boy genius decided to talk again.

That was until he threw his hand into your hair, gripping it enough to make you moan on his lips, but also gentle. You did the same to his hair, and slowly peppered kisses over to his ear, breathing hot air into them. The light giggle that came out of your mouth coincided with the moans that came from his mouth. He pulled your hair to have control of your head with one hand to get access to your neck, while his other hand wrapped around your body, pulling you in as close to him as he could. You honestly felt as if he wasn’t going to let you go, but you really didn’t care if he did or not.

You started to feel something underneath you and you smiled knowing exactly what you felt.

“Hmm.. wonder what that is?” you whispered into his ear, now biting his earlobe and then moving quickly back to his lips with even more need than before. You slowly started to move your hips against his, both of your kisses sloppy with one another.

“Y/N, I want this more than anything, but I want to do this when you’re ready. I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he spoke quietly, stopping you and holding your face. “I met you less than 24 hours ago and there is something you’ve done inside of me that I can’t even explain.”

“I feel the same way as you do,” you leaned into him as your heart rate started to slow down. You put your head on his shoulder and he hugged you again.

“I want to do this right, if that’s what it is. Please,” he begged you and whispered into your ear.

You heard what he said, you weren’t upset, in fact, you agreed with him. As much as you wanted this man to take you and show you what he’s made of, you needed to go slower and at this point, you felt as if your body was about to give into another bout of sleep.

He didn’t need to hear your response, he got your answer when you kissed him gently again and slid off into his arms to cuddle him. Slowly, you began to fall asleep again.

***

The two of you fell asleep but this time you were woken up to a body not behind you and Spencer’s voice talking. You tried to listen, but decided against it. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, it really wasn’t fair. If he wanted to tell you, he would.

You grabbed your phone and saw that you got another couple hours of sleep in. It was now 7:30am. Spencer hung up the phone and came over to you.

“They may have a lead on my Mom, more than they did just a few hours ago,” he spoke. “I really need to go.”

“Go, go. Let me know what happens or call me before you come over, I might be sleeping,” you laughed.

He kissed your forehead and was out the door.

Still a little sore and tired, you went and took some tylenol, noticing that you could at least walk better today, and you felt like you should probably try to sleep again and in bed this time. Walter came over and licked your face as you laid down in your bed. Again, you felt sleep hit you like a brick.

***

After a few hours, you woke up noticing that it was around 12pm and that it was going to be a long unproductive day. You got out of bed and tried to clean whatever you could without hurting yourself and finished up some session notes from the few days before, but that time it was 3pm. You called your friend and told her about Spencer. She, of course, harassed you about it and told her to shove it, but that you definitely had an interest in him. She ultimately told you she would kick his ass if he hurt you.

You let Walter out, managing to get down and up the stairs without much of an issue and fed him. You sat down on the couch again, noticing it was around 4:04pm and thought you should probably eat, but when you started to think about what to have, you fell asleep again.

*KNOCK* KNOCK* *KNOCK*

You woke up, not knowing what was going on. “What?” you grumbled to yourself.

*KNOCK* KNOCK* *KNOCK*

You grabbed your phone and noticed that it was 7:34pm and you had no phone calls or texts, so you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. You stumbled off the couch in clumsiness and reached the door. You rubbed your eyes and opened the door. If you weren’t awake then, you sure as hell were now.

Spencer was standing right in front of you, but this time he looked different. He was wearing an FBI jacket, still looking handsome as ever but there were 3 others behind him. Two girls and a much older, fatherly-looking, handsome man.

Spencer walked into your apartment, the other three introduced themselves. The brown headed one being Emily Prentiss, the pretty blonde was Jennifer Jareau, or JJ, and the older man was Dave Rossi.

You let them in and looked at Spencer as he was walking around your place.

You walked over to him, stopping him and looking him dead in the eyes. This was something you hadn’t seen in him before, though only knowing him for 48 hours, that would make more sense. But no, this was something sinister, anger, and you were a bit frightened.

“Spencer!” you yelled with your hand on his chest, “What the hell is going on?!”

“We need to talk.”

***

taglist - @spnackleholicswainer @alexa-ann-blog @crazysocklovingfangirl@totallysupernaturaloneshots @crowleysplaythings @i-dont-understand-that-url @baritonechick @samanthasmileys @sammys-angel @dont-hate-relate-pls@thegameison97 @growningupgeek @ive6669 @your-favorite-emo @fandom-has-ruined-my-life @youcanhavit @hillface89 @angelkurenai@letmewriteyourlove @fangirl1802 @robbenedictxreader @ellienovak@psycho-moose-sammy @ashiewesker @hudine @paddy121996-blog@wayward-mirage @zymmas @evyiione @heatherhoney2000-blog @gabriels-trix @your-not-invisible-to-me me @carry-on-my-wayward-girls@reigningqueenofwords @writings-of-desire @haylaansmi @justanothetfangirl

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dave rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #cat adams #falling for you

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

butterflies • mike hanlon

(mike hanlon x reader)

requested: Can you write something for Mike? Whenever you have time of course😊 I don’t mind if it’s smut or fluff, imagine or head cannons. I just really need more Mike in my life💗 thank you -🃏 p.s ilysm

warning: swearing, brief mentions of sex thx richie (and stan and bill), just fluffy stuff, underage drinking, unedited

[losers + reader are 18 in this.]

i wrote this rly quickly bc i just had an idea and im in love w mike, i hope u guys enjoy! i also made this gender neutral

♡

1.8k words

"what're you staring at, toots?" a cheeky voice pulls you out of your daydream.

you look to your left and stare at richie, cheeks heating up. "what are you talking about?" you ask, feeling flustered. your friend chuckles, the lenses of his glasses glinting in the midday sun.

it's hot today - you, eddie, and richie had just crawled from the quarry to rest on blankets, your skin warm and hair dripping onto your bodies as you watch the others swim.

in the distance, a bout of laughter grabs your attention and you focus on your friends. mike's got bev in his arms as he tosses her through the water, flying and both of them laughing. you smile, watching mike's back muscles move, his blinding smile as he wipes water from his eyes.

bill socks him on the shoulder lightly in jest and mike turns his head with a laugh. and then mike's warm eyes are locking with yours from far away and your stomach flutters. he waves, and you softly wave back.

"uh, that."

you look back with a frown to eddie, who's staring at you with a straight look. richie's got the same one on his own angular face and you scowl at them, crossing your arms. "i don't know what you're on about. you guys are assholes, anyways." you mutter the second part, toe nudging the sand at the edge of your towel.

"it's okay, y/n.

your eyebrows lift and you sigh, surprised by the moment of sincerity from the boy who's always joking.

"then you can finally fuck him all you want."

"wait, now. y/n fucking who?" stan asks, walking up with a grin and flanked by ben and bev on either side. they all fall to the ground and shake their hair out with towels or grab their phone.

"obviously mike. who else?" eddie adds, tossing you a smirk. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. a quick glance proves that bill and mike are still in the water, making their way over slowly but in deep conversation. at least they're out of earshot.

"yeah, she's been hung up on him since the seventh grade. we're eighteen now, doll. it's time." richie says this with a half-full mouth of beer, prompting you, ben, bev, stan, and eddie all to give him a grossed out look.

"oh fuck off, tozier, leave her alone." stan mumbles, digging through the cooler to pull out a beer and handing one to eddie before pulling his keys to open his own. "you jealous, stanny?" richie mutters, making kissy noises. you roll your eyes and crack a grin despite your embarrassment.

"please. y/n's all mike's, none for me. he's just as hung up on her." stan mutters with a grin and you toss a rock at him in annoyance. god, they're the worst.

"she's also a person, you know." bev says, sending a pointed look to the boys just as bill and mike walk over, towels around their shoulders.

"y/n? a p-person? not so sure." bill teases, winking at you. you stick your tongue out at him, just glad they'd only caught the tail-end of that conversation. mike sits next to you, handing you a cold beer with a warm smile.

you feel those stupid butterflies again.

"i don’t know. y/n's pretty human to me." mike mutters as he wipes his face with his hand. you grin into your knees, feeling flustered and very, very, very infatuated with the boy next to you.

richie groans with a teasing smile, "see! that's what im talking about, are you guys j-" he makes a loud grunt then as ben whacks him in the stomach.

later that night, two more beers and four slices (you were so hungry) of pizza later, you find yourself gazing up at the stars. being at mike's house was one of your favorite things ever. besides the most obvious reason, the one that makes you flush, you do like coming to the farm because it's far enough away from the town that the stars are clear and you can lay and stare at them for hours.

luckily, mike kept his window screen removed so he himself could go on the roof, so after everyone had fallen asleep, you'd tip toed up to his room to crawl onto the roof. you'd also tried to hide your disappointment as you opened his door and he wasn't there - he hadn't been asleep downstairs with the others so you'd assumed he'd gone to sleep in his own bed.

nonetheless, you were up here now and it was perfect - the crickets chirping and frogs croaking in the creek a few yards to the left of the house, close enough that you can here it gurgling as the water flows past the rocks you used to jump across as kids.

you sigh. when did you grow up?

a breeze ruffles your hair lightly and you can smell the remnants of smoke in the air from the fire mike and ben had lit although that was hours ago.

mike. the thought brings butterflies all over your body and you curse yourself and your anxious crush. he was just so... so soft. he was strong and soft and careful and carefree - he was his own opposite and that thought itself confused you but you don't really care because every time he speaks, you want nothing more than just to listen for ages. you sit up, eyes wide and breaths halting at your own thoughts. wait.

that's love, isn't it?

"want some company?" a voice calls, prompting you to turn back and look towards the window, your heart skipping a beat at the familiar figure.

"hi mike." you say timidly, your face somehow feeling warm against the cool summer night. perfect timing. "hey, y/n/n." he mutters as he pulls himself through the ledge and out onto the roof, plopping himself next to you. he sits close enough that you can smell him and feel him against your leg - his smell is one of mint, wildflowers and some unknown cologne that makes you feel tingly.

"i thought you were asleep." you say, hating that you feel so damn nervous around your friend. if only these feelings would go away. he chuckles, looking at you, "no, i was getting water in the kitchen and when i came back, you weren't with the others. i knew you'd be up here."

something about his words make you feel very mushy and you give him a smile, "how'd you know?" you ask softly. he shrugs, his eyes darting quickly from yours to your lips and your heart freezes.

"i know you more than you think, y/n." he says equally as soft and then you notice how close he really is, how honest he sounds. and then your eyes flick away, taking in the soft rustle of the leaves in the distance, a lone car tumbling down the road into town, the left taillight blown out. you chuckle; it looks sort of like the car richie bought sophomore year that you all used to pile into to drive into bangor.

you then think about all your memories with the losers; how every single one always circulates around a familiar smile, a certain laughter and the kindest person you've ever known.

and then mike's arm lifts to rest around you and you quickly snap out of your stare at the grassy field of his farm to look at him. he's smiling back and you realize his voice and body next to yours might possibly be the one thing bearing the weight of your mind as your head threatens to join the shining stars and clouds above you. he takes care of you in ways that neither of you notice, in ways that you'll forever be grateful for.

"i just want to say something." he says, cutting out the silence with his crisp words, looking out towards the skyline where you can just make out the main street of derry over the fields.

you lean your head slightly onto his shoulder and hum, nervous that if you tried to speak no words would come out but just the sound of your racing heartbeat.

"y/n, i really like you."

it's said with no other inflections, nothing but the raw words doing so much to overpower your brain. your heart stops beating then starts again at a thumping, resounding pace. you think you're short-circuiting.

"oh... what?" you ask shyly, feeling extremely flushed. there's no way that mike likes you back. he smiles at you and god, those butterflies are about to escape from your chest. "you're not joking, are you?" you ask, biting your lip as your eyes navigate every feature of his face as he watches you. you dont even know why you said it - it's mike you're talking to. he would never lie or joke about something like this, he would never, ever hurt you like that.

"i have never felt this way about anyone.” he says honestly, a smile still on his face and your heart thumps wildly in your chest, a smile splitting your face in two as you shake your head. "y/n/n, i would never lie to you." but you already knew that.

your heart is swelling with so much antsy happiness that you almost huff a laugh, shaking your head as your cheeks flush. he's just watching you, half-smiling as he waits for you to fully react. he knows you so well, you almost cry, but instead you speak.

"i like you too, i think i lo-" you cut yourself off and suck in a breath, realizing that you haven't taken one in over thirty seconds. "i have for a long time. do you-do you think i could..." you trail off, feeling awkward.

he smiles gently, the hand that isn't around your shoulders reaching to softly cup your jaw. you can't speak as he pulls you closer and shit, even if you could you don't want to because you would ruin this beautiful moment, the way you're breathing each other in.

you close the gap.

his lips are warm against yours and the arm around your shoulder moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss. he tastes like vanilla ice cream and you whimper slightly, your hands falling on his chest as your heart pounds in your own. he's smilling, then - you can feel it.

you laugh with happiness as you realize that you can feel him smiling against your lips and that you'll be able to feel that for a very long time. he pulls back and pecks your lips again, staring into your eyes and then you peck his lips. he laughs and it makes you beam.

his arm pulls you into his side and he lays his head on yours as you stare out into the countryside. "are you tired, mike?" you ask, concerned that you've kept him up. you feel him shake his head and you smile softly, hand lacing with his against the tiles of the roof.

"no. i think i could stay up here forever." he whispers.

//tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @toziershmozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @beauregard-s @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell //

#🃏#mike hanlon x reader #mike hanlon is my boy #losers x reader #losers club x reader

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years

Text

Captive Love 19

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sweetheart enjoys flustering Papyrus, and he tries to educate her in the greatest of performers; Mettaton... Aka, share his interests with her. Also... other stuff happens.

A/N: Important stuff! So! While looking through stuff, I looked through the bookmarks to this story (on Ao3, for multiple reasons) and saw a comment in the bookmark saying that they weren't sure why she hadn't gotten her voice back, yet. This is honestly a good question. I guess it wasn't clear enough, I mean, a lot of stuff has happened. I tried to put the speech indicators to show that her voice is getting better, but then she'll yell and scream at Sans or someone on the phone (her idiot boss) and it'll get a bit worse. Also, I did a count of the days (quickly scanning through the whole file so I could be a little off) and at the beginning of the next chapter she's only been there for two weeks (13 days actually) and only been awake for 10 of them. Even if we give the benefit of the doubt and say three weeks (pretty sure that's the time frame I was aiming for about the point they had sex), she's basically gotten her voice back, its just a bit wobbly and squeaky. I dunno 'bout the rest of y'all, but last time I got sick (actually right before I started writing this story) I lost my voice for about a month and a half. I started getting it back after a month, had two weeks of the squeaky voice of a dog toy, and then a week of where it was mostly back, but still wobbly and had to clear my throat a lot because of it cutting out and squeaking. This is for informative purposes, not to be a jerk. Even though I feel like a jerk... lol God damn it! Do you know how hard I tried not to make it so he had a sock thing?! Maybe a preference or soft spot, but not an all out fetish. Like, 'ooo, yeah, those're sexy,' sure, but not, 'oh god, I'm so hard 'cause you're wearing socks!' *sigh* I fail at life... Enjoy an about double length chapter!.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story

Papyrus tries to be... friendly? Maybe. Is that what he's doing? Yes.

Contrary to what Sans had said, the two spent the time until Papyrus came back not having sex, but cuddling and making out.

“SANS!” Papyrus called from downstairs, knowing too well not to go near his brother’s room unless he was interested in an accidental show.

Sans pulled back from the kiss he was tangled in with (Y/n), glancing to the door before giving her another kiss and climbing from the bed to go down to his brother.

(Y/n) laid back, biting her lip and smiling.

Ok… so it hadn’t started out great, but, really, even if she left now, the sex was amazing, and she wouldn’t have a problem messaging him. Who knew about a relationship, but what they had was pretty sweet.

A sudden realization hit her.

What did Sans think of relationships?

Was it something monsters did? It seemed like they avoided showing that they had feelings or emotions at every turn, and she could see how having a relationship would blow that out of the water.

Did she want a relationship?

Yes, sex was nice, and it was nice spending time with him, but… it was entirely different than having a relationship. Right now, they were basically almost friends, with benefits. Maybe closer to fuck buddies who liked hanging out.

It was a strange gray area to be in.

(Y/n) stretched and climbed from the bed, hurrying to grab some clothes and head to take a quick shower to wash the smell of sex from her.

How long had it been since her body had felt so well used? So nicely taken care of?

...How long had it been since she’d been a willing participant in it becoming this sore?

She shook her head to get that thought out of her head.

It didn’t matter, anyway, that bastard was gone, and she was here.

She needed to enjoy her life.

She instead focused on washing up, bemoaning that her legs had gotten so hairy and that there was no razer around here to shave. How could she have forgotten to tell Sans to get one when she sent him out for everything and the kitchen sink?

After her shower, she went into Sans’ room and found the bag he’d brought back on the off chance that he had gotten one and she’d just missed it.

No luck, though she did find a pair of really cute over the knee socks. They looked like they were either from a halloween display, or from a store that sold punk and goth type clothing, having a print of tiny scattered skull and crossbones, and a bit of lace and back ribbon at the top.

Well… at least they’d cover the hairs on her legs and she wouldn’t be so self conscious about them.

She pulled on a shirt, the pants she’d originally been wearing, and did her best with her hair before she walked downstairs.

Papyrus was making a lot of noise in the kitchen, and Sans was nowhere to be seen.

He must have gone out for something…

(Y/n) went to the kitchen and stopped next to Papyrus.

He looked down at her with a suspicious glare, but she responded with a friendly grin.

Papyrus quickly looked away with a bit of red growing over his cheeks.

Embarrassment… that’s right; being nice flustered him.

A mischievous grin lifted her lips.

This was going to be fun.

As Papyrus started trying to make the shepherd's pie again, she stood near, pre measuring things and handing them to him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HUMAN?!” He demanded, his hands going to rest on his pelvis.

“He-ping,” she told him, then shot a huge grin. [helping]

Papyrus' sharp teeth gritted hard and he turned away with a glare.

(Y/n) held back her laughter.

So much fun.

As Papyrus was starting to layer, the door opened and Sans came back in.

“SANS! COME GET YOUR HUMAN! SHE’S UNDERFOOT!” Papyrus demanded.

Sans entered the kitchen, seeing (Y/n) helpfully handing a bowl of mashed potatoes to his brother, whose skull was glowing across his cheekbones and nasal ridge.

He stuffed his smokes in his pocket and strolled over to where (Y/n) was grinning at him. He gave her a devious grin back, his sharp teeth flashing at her, and let his tongue trace his golden fang suggestively.

Sans stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling behind her ear. "c'mon, sweetheart, stop botherin' my bro an' come in th' other room wit me. i got an idea 'f how ta entertain ya." Sans chuckled at her obviously flustered form against him. “c’mon sweetheart, give ‘im th’ potatoes an’ come wit me.”

Papyrus took the bowl of potatoes from her and made a disgruntled and disgusted noise as Sans guided (Y/n) to the other room.

He sat her on the couch and sat next to her, pulling the remote out and putting on a show.

(Y/n) sniffed the air, noticing a heavier cherry and vanilla smell around Sans.

"What's that sm-ll?" She asked.

"what smell?" Sans asked, looking over at her with a brow ridge up.

"It's on you, like… vanilla, and cherry," she told him.

"oh," Sans hummed, pulling out a slightly worn box to show her. "that's my smokes."

"You smoke?" She asked in surprise.

"yeah, sometimes," he murmured, his eyelights flashing to the kitchen.

(Y/n) mentally shrugged. Smoking was bad, but who knew if it even affected him the same way… He wasn't doing it around her, and at least the smoke smelled good.

Over all, filed under 'not her business'.

After a dinner filled with Papyrus shooting them disgusted looks from his spot across the table and telling them the 'thrilling adventures' he'd had that day, Papyrus made them stay downstairs to watch Mettaton shows.

"boss, i don't wanna watch any mettaton stuff," Sans complained.

"TOO BAD; I'M NOT LETTING YOU TWO WANDER OFF TO YOUR OWN DEVICES! WHO ONLY KNOWS WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THEN!"

"heh, i know what'd happen," Sans commented, giving (Y/n) a suggestive wink.

Papyrus gave a put upon sigh and wedged his way between them on the couch.

"hey, bro, what're ya doin'?!" Sans complained, shuffling out of the way a bit so he didn't get sat on.

"I DON'T WANT THE TWO OF YOU CANOODELING RIGHT NEXT TO ME!" Papyrus declared.

"then let us go up ta my room, bro," Sans sighed, managing to hold back his irritation. "simple as that."

"NO CANOODELING!" Papyrus declared.

He spent a lot of the shows explaining to (Y/n) how their star, and sometimes only actor, was better than anything humans could possibly have, often spending half a segment explaining the ‘complicated and far superior’ bits.

After enough time had apparently passed, Papyrus decided it was time to go to bed and ushered them all upstairs.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sans let out an irritated breath before looking up at (Y/n) and letting his sharp teeth curl into a predatory grin.

Heat shot through (Y/n)'s belly, her heart rate going up.

"c'mere, sweetheart," Sans beckoned her to the bed as he reached it himself. "i have a feelin' yer tongue's been away from mine fer too long…"

(Y/n) felt a bit of embarrassment mixing with the excitement that was filling her, heat starting to build already.

"aw, c'mon, sweetness," Sans drew his voice out temptingly, the low tones somehow reminding her already wettening core what he'd done to it earlier and making it clench. "no need ta be so shy noww."

(Y/n) slowly stepped toward the bed, fluttering filling her belly.

“there ya go,” Sans praised as she got closer. “that’s it, sweetheart, c’mon closer,” he told her as he knelt on the bed and moved to the middle, sitting on his knees. “wait, this’s gonna be easier if ya take those pants off b’fore ya get up here,” he commented.

A wave of trepidation fell over her, and she thought through what was happening, trying to be completely sure she was ok with what was about to happen.

One round of sex and a day of making out, you could… maybe still be friends. Any more than that… who knew…

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Sans asked, his expression turning more toward question than the suggestive thing it had been.

(Y/n) paused, then reached for her pants and started taking them off.

“mmm, there ya go, sweetheart,” Sans commented as she started crawling toward him on the bed, his expression slipping back to that one of suggestive intent.

She made her way up, then paused in front of him, biting her lip as she reached under her shirt and worked her bra off without taking off her shirt. Her attention was drawn back to Sans at the lustful noise he made as she threw it to the floor behind her.

“i didn’t know ya knew magic, sweetheart,” Sans chuckled, leaning forward and grabbing her by the hips to draw her closer to him. His hands slid down her thighs, moving around them, then up the backs to take her panties and start dragging them down her thighs.

As she lifted one knee so he could get them off, he caught sight of the dark fabric on her calf and twisted a little around her to get a better look.

Yes, there were little skull and crossbones distributed every so often over the black of the fabric, a bit of lace nearly hidden behind her knee.

“fuck,” Sans murmured softly, his phalanges lingering over the soft fabric as he helped her off with her panties.

(Y/n) looked at him in question, following his gaze, her leg registering where he was touching.

Oh.

Oh!

Ooooooooh…

He’d bought those… maybe not even purposely for her…

Here she was wearing them, and if the tent in his shorts was anything to go by, he wholeheartedly approved.

Sans tried to stop the drool from dripping between his teeth as his fingers took in the feel of her soft leg inside of the socks, tracing the muscles that filled out the fabric and looking sexier than he had imagined.

He hadn’t even dared to hope that she’d willingly wear them, let alone put them on herself, yet here she was, calves covered in the socks, looking sexy enough that if she pressed her knees together, her legs would look good enough to- he’d have to hold on to the backs of her thighs so that he could brace himself to thrust, keeping her feet together with his knees and her knees together with his hands-

Sans blinked his sockets to clear his fantasy, gripping the backs of her thighs and pulling her up into his lap, pausing only to get his shorts out of the way. Then he was pulling her up over him, her knees on the outsides of his hips, angling and positioning them both so that as he eased her to sit down, she felt the head of his cock brushing against her.

(Y/n) bit her lip, her body giving all the signals that it was interested and ready, and one of his hands slipped between them to guide his cock, brushing against her wet folds until he found her opening.

The hand on her hip gripped harder as he encouraged her down, sliding into her, and his face turned into a grimace of pleasure.

“nnn, fuck, ya feel jus’ ‘s good ‘s last time…” He told her through gasped breaths. “fuuuuck, sweetheart… ya a’ways this hot an’ wet, or is this jus’ fer me?” He groaned as she sank down, her thighs finally meeting where his shorts had crumpled around his femurs.

“Sans,” she whispered, her hands clenching around the back of his shirt, grabbing at his ribs and making him growl needily.

One of his hands buried itself in her hair, tangling and fisting in it to point her face to his, his teeth pressing against her lips and parting them to let his tongue meet hers, and she moaned, her hips following the motions he was guiding her through to get a bit of movement going.

It was a bit awkward due to the angle, and only served to make them both want more.

Sans' hand moved from her hip to give a rough grope to her ass, holding her against him as he turned and laid over top of her.

His pelvis stayed against her as he knelt up, his hands running down her calves, the roughness of his phalanges catching a little at her socks.

He gave a squeeze to her calves, then lifted them up over his shoulders, nuzzling them, his hands stroking over them.

His hands slid down to her thighs, gripping them tightly before starting to move his pelvis.

He rocked gently for a moment, but soon leaned forward, pushing her knees closer to her chest as he did, and it seemed to open her up to him more, making her able to feel every inch of him as he moved inside her.

Sans held her thighs tight against his ribs, keeping her calves on his shoulders and nuzzling against them as he thrust. They felt so soft under his phalanges, against his cheekbone-

His eyelights stayed on her as he panted for breath, thrusting into her rhythmically. He could feel her hands grabbing and twisting around his shorts, trying to pull him into her as her hips gave little bucks trying to meet his.

fuck...

She was so cute- the socks were adorable, and they made her look even cuter…

His tongue reached out and traced over her calf, making him grunt as she clenched around him. “oh, sweetheart,” he groaned softly, nipping at her calf.

A noise escaped (Y/n), but she tried to swallow it, trying to keep quiet as he sped up.

Sans gripped her thighs tightly, pushing into her faster and faster, his pointed teeth digging into her sock covered calf, his tongue brushing over it.

(Y/n) gasped, her mouth dropped open as she tried to stay quiet, her body bouncing as he pushed into her harder.

“fuck, sweetheart- ya squeezin’ ‘round me like that- ya like what ‘m doin’ ta ya?” He asked, watching her face.

(Y/n) nodded, her hand tightening in the fabric of his shorts.

“yeah?”

She nodded again as she gasped for air, trying desperately not to make noise to piss off the other skeleton in the house, starting to get light headed at how much oxygen she was taking in.

“nnn, fuck- y’re so sweet, sweetheart,” he told her, gulping in air as he tightened his hands, holding her steady as he pounded into her.

She was going to have bruises there, though it couldn’t seem to matter to her mind. He was hitting every perfect place inside her- it felt so good- he felt so perfect inside her- every spot lighting up with pleasure- so amazing-

And then he bit her calf again, his tongue trailing over the sock that made her seem even more adorable and sweet.

“Ungh-” (Y/n) squeaked, holding back the other noises as she came, her body tightening and pulsing around Sans as she softly moaned his name.

“uuuuuuugh, sweetheart- tha’s right, come fer me- nnn- ya feel s’good- fuck- fuckfuckfuck-!” He growled out as he fell over the edge and followed her into bliss, his jaw clenched tight to keep quiet. He didn’t need his brother bursting in and ruining the mood.

As they came down, Sans leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue and teeth moving with her mouth, small noises leaving them both.

Sans chuckled after a moment, his hands squeezing her ass with her legs now wrapped around him.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, watching his face.

“nothin’, i jus’ feel bad fer humans ’s all. any guy who doesn’t get ta feel ‘is girl keep pullin’ at ‘im like this, really. can’t ‘magine. jus’ feels so good. c’mere, sweetness,” he coaxed, though he was the one who did all the work of wrapping his arms around her and rolling so that she was again on top of him before he gave a content sigh.

“Their loss,” (Y/n) murmured back with a chuckle of her own.

They started drifting off, but (Y/n) would swear she heard Sans say, “‘m glad i found ya… some a th’ best luck in my life…”

A/N: Uh... In case it wasn't clear... Yes, Sans was thinking of pressing Sweetheart's calves together and fucking the space between near her knees... um... while she was wearing the socks... I- I don't know... I was going to have him just think about licking or nipping, but, in the moment that's what came out instead... Sans does what he wants when I write, apparently... Sans: damn straight i do, doll!

#underfell sans x reader #uf!sans x you #red x reader #underfrick #underfluff #tsundere sans #reader insert #mutual pining #y/n #angst #romance #fluff #Smut

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rxn-awxy-wxth-me · 4 years

Text

The Girl makes a request

Okay so I was meant to be writing a proper fic, but then I decided I hated it and wrote this instead! I was thinking about cacti in the zones and how The Girl would definitely get attached to them, then it kinda turned into this. Anyways, hope you enjoy :D

When The Girl approached Poison with her request, they were sat on a torn up booth seat with their legs propped up on the table, watching Jet steadily as he carved notches into the table opposite with a pocket knife.

Their attention was broken as she approached them and stood back a little from the booth, hands clasped tightly together as if trying to contain excitement or nerves, Poison wasn't sure which.

Catching her eye, they saw it was likely both. She seemed to be anticipating something, and clearly had something to ask them.

“Everythin' alright?” They asked evenly, prompting her to bounce on the balls of her feet and put her hands on the table.

“Can I give some water to the cactus out there?” The Girl pointed out of the diner window towards a rocky area next to the building, “S'just that it’s dyin’ and it looks really sad.”

Poison followed her gaze and looked out at the sandy rubble of what must once have been a wall. Small trees had attempted to grow there, but had become twisted and skeletal under the sun’s constant glare. Sure enough, there was a cactus there too, looking off-colour and distinctly sorry for itself.

They stared for a moment, before turning back to The Girl, ready with a firm but regretful No. The word died in their throat however, upon seeing her face.

Poison was always stringent with their supplies, especially water. The five of them could do without a lot of things, they knew, but if they ran out of water they'd be fucked. There was only so much they could carry around with them, and Poison knew it shouldn’t be wasted on anything that wasn’t their crew, even desperate-looking desert fauna.

Still, she was watching them with such a pleading look in her dark eyes, a small hopeful smile on her face at the thought of helping this feeble looking cactus.

Surely half a bottle’s worth wouldn’t do any harm? They could drink a little less themself to make up for it, Poison reasoned.

“I reckon,” They said, sitting up and swinging their legs back down onto the floor, “you can have half a bottle, but don’t go askin’ for no more, alright?” They raised their eyebrows in a mock warning.

The Girl smiled, nodding her head vigorously. She turned to go, but paused and looked back shyly.

“Will you come help me?” She asked.

Poison was silent for a moment, regarding her. It had taken The Girl the longest to trust them out of everyone, probably because they were often, as Ghoul so delicately put it, ‘a pissy motherfucker’. Besides, it’s not like they had ever really tried to properly engage with her, not like the others. She had kept her distance, and Poison was okay with that arrangement.

But now here she was, asking them to come help her.

“Sure thing” They replied.

It wasn’t like they had anything better to be doing, riding out the midday heat as they were.

The Girl grinned and started to lead the way towards the door. As Poison slid out of the booth and turned to follow her, they caught sight of Jet watching them, trying and failing not to smirk. They flipped him off, causing Jet to break into a grin.

Poison shook their head and continued on. Honestly, this is what they got for being nice?

The back of the Trans Am contained a small mountain of junk, supplies, and other random things the five of them had picked up. It was hard to protect your shit in the zones, and having so much useless stuff to dig through to get to anything of value was as good security as anything. Not that it had been intentional. Poison and The Girl dug through it all carefully, hunting for their stash of water.

“Here!” The Girl attempted to pull out the largest water container, which was thankfully still about three quarters full.

“Hmm, not that one,” Poison dug around next to it, “a bottle'll be easier... hah!” They held one up triumphantly.

“Okay,” They turned to the girl and handed her the bottle, “Now we can get this fucker watered, yeah?”

She nodded excitedly and they walked side by side towards the cactus stood in the dust by the diner’s dirty windows.

“D’you think waterin' it will mean it'll be better next time were here?” The Girl asked, glancing up at Poison.

Seeing the plant up close, Poison saw that when The Girl had said it was dying, she really meant it. Usually cacti like that would be a healthy green colour, but this one was so shrivelled that all they could see was it’s spikes. It was dull, sad looking, and definitely on death’s door. In fact, Poison wouldn’t be surprised if it was dead already, certainly wasn’t going to last much longer.

They weren't about to spoil it for The Girl though.

“S’hard to say, but it'd better not go dyin' on us after this.” They gave the cactus a glare, which made The Girl laugh. The sound surprised Poison, high-pitched and delighted, ringing like little bells. They hadn’t heard it very often, and they had never been the cause of it before.

It was then, as she knelt in the sand and poured half a bottle of their precious water around the base of the cactus, that they realised they were enjoying spending time with The Girl. She seemed to want their company too, it’s not like the others weren’t free to come help her, but she had asked them. Poison wasn’t sure how that made them feel.

The Girl capped the now half empty bottle, and stood up, “I’m gonna name it."

There was a long pause.

“Uhh, you thought of anythin’?” Poison prompted.

The Girl sighed, “Ain't very good at thinkin’ of names.”

They smiled to themself at the truth of that, she still had yet to decide on her own name. “What about... Spiky?”

“No."

“Spike?”

“No!”

“C'mon!” Poison waved their hands in exasperation, “What about Prickles?”

The Girl tilted her head in consideration, then nodded, “I like Prickles."

“Shiny."

And that was that. Poison was about to tell her they should go put the bottle away when they heard a familiar voice behind them. “I never thought I’d get to say this, but Poison? You're goin’ soft."

They spun around and there was Kobra, arms crossed, with a teasing grin on his face.

“Won’t look so soft if y’say that again, asshole," Poison threatened, though there was no force behind their words.

“Whatever you say, Pois,” Kobra said lightly. He looked at The Girl mischievously, and she beamed at him.

“Look, if I wanna water a cactus with the kid here, then that's what I’ll do,” Poison gestured towards The Girl standing beside them, then grinned themself, “and y'can’t say shit ‘bout bein’ soft, Kobes."

“Yeah yeah."

By the time they next came to crash at the diner, Poison had all but forgotten about the cactus. They had gotten there late into the night after driving for hours, and the darkness had obscured most of the surroundings from view.

And so it was morning when they were woken unceremoniously by The Girl. She was patting them on the shoulder, whispering urgently, “Y'have to come see!”

Poison would have been worried were it not for the elation in her voice. Quietly they groaned, “can’t it wait?”

“Pleeease?”

“Okay fine, but this'd better be good.”

So for the second time, The Girl led Poison out to the scrubby area where the cactus was growing. As soon as they saw what she wanted to show them, they remembered letting The Girl water it.

Where before it had seemed old and hunched, it now looked a little healthier. They could see green on its main body, and to Poison’s eyes it stood prouder, arms reaching up toward the morning pink of the sky.

“You were right, Prickles is better!” said The Girl.

Poison could hardly believe it. They had been sure the thing was going to wilt to nothing, but sure enough, here it was. Maybe all it had needed was that little helping hand, or maybe the Witch had taken pity on it. Either way, it had managed to stay alive.

“I just said it better not die," Poison corrected, “Maybe it heard me?”

“Mmm," hummed The Girl, fiddling with the zip of her jacket and watching the cactus in front of them, “Can we give it more water?”

“I think it’s doin’ okay on its own now kiddo,” Poison nudged her gently, “We gotta keep that water for us."

“But It’s a survivor, like we are, we gotta help it out.”

“Why?”

“’Cause then it might help us out when we need it."

Poison started to laugh, “What, a cactus?”

The Girl poked them and gave them her best glare, brow furrowed, “No! The desert."

As silly and fantastical as the notion was, Poison found themself liking the idea that the desert might look after them, if they looked after it. They liked it enough to agree to let The Girl water the cactus again anyway.

How did she keep managing to coax them into letting her do it?

They cared about her, and they wanted to see her happy, that was why. So much of her life was filled with running and surviving and looking over her shoulder. She deserved to have some fun, to be a kid, to look after some random cactus in zone 5 if she wanted.

So they dug out some more water, and she watered it. Half a bottle, no more, no less.

The other three weren’t worried in the slightest about the misuse of water, it was Poison’s job to make sure they had enough, after all. They did enjoy calling them out about it though.

“Poison, lettin' The Girl water a cactus again? You feelin’ alright?” Ghoul was watching Poison from the passenger seat with an over-exaggerated look of surprised concern on his face.

They were cruising down some unnamed road, having left the diner a couple miles back. Poison could smell the sun-baked asphalt beneath them, and their hands felt warm on the hot steering wheel despite the fingerless gloves they wore.

“It was half a bottle Ghoul, it’s not like we were waterin’ every plant in the fuckin’ zone." Poison glanced at Ghoul, “why're you so surprised anyway?”

Ghoul scoffed and slapped a hand over his mouth. Glancing in the rear-view, Poison could see Jet and Kobra exchanging an amused glance over The Girl's head.

“S'just... not like you to use supplies when you don’t absolutely have to," Jet answered after a moment.

“Someone’s gotta make sure our food for the next week doesn’t get eaten in a day," Poison huffed, “lookin’ at you Kobra.”

“That was one time!” Kobra exclaimed, hitting his hand on the window ledge in indignation.

“S'gonna be worth it though, isn’t it?” The Girl piped up, “when Prickles is all healthy again?”

“’Course it is, it’ll be the tallest cactus in this desert," Poison declared.

Ghoul twisted in his seat to face The Girl, “Thanks to you our diner’s gonna look even fuckin’ cooler than before!” Her face lit up in pride as they bumped fists.

“Since when has it looked cool?” Jet teased, smile dancing across his features.

Ghoul shrugged, “Since we been usin' it ‘course.”

Poison was now only half listening to the conversation, thinking about what Mad Gear record they were going to ask Ghoul to put on.

“Just can’t believe you let her do it," Ghoul was saying to them, grinning, “but good for you Poison, you oughta have some fun."

“Who says I don’t have fun?” Poison asked under their breath, watching the road ahead.

Still, they were all happy giving water to the little desert plant was making The Girl happy. So after that second time Poison and The Girl did so, it simply became routine.

Each time they stopped off at the diner, to pick something up, or lay low for a while, Poison and The Girl would go check on ‘Prickles’. Every time they did, the cactus looked healthier. It started to grow too, which brought discussion of just how tall they could get it to grow.

“Tall as the diner?” The Girl asked one time, looking between the cactus and their hideout, trying to picture it that high.

“That'd be one tall-ass cactus, I don’t think they can get that big,” Poison said. “Though,” they reasoned, tilting their head, “it’s done the impossible before."

Although Poison would never admit it, The Girl wasn't the only one who had grown attached to the unlikely survivor. They found themself hoping it would be okay next time they saw it, not just for The Girl, but for the fucking cactus itself. Poison felt glad The Girl had saved it. It had lived, and was thriving, because of her kindness.

The cactus never did grow as tall as the diner, but it did grow to a good height. Poison had to admit Ghoul was right, the whole place did look somehow better with the cactus there. Or maybe Poison just associated it with The Girl and all the silly, and later heartfelt, conversations they had around it.

Every time they got caught in a sandstorm and survived unscathed, or realised they had ran out of water just as the heavens opened, Poison would remember The Girl’s words about the desert looking after those who look after it. They were never sure they believed it, but they were never quite sure they didn’t either.

Regardless, The Girl had helped them realise something. It felt good to maintain life in a desert that was so often having life taken from it. Not only in defiance of BL/ind, but because the desert was their home.

And maybe, just maybe, the desert would decide to repay their favour when they needed it most.

#This is the first thing I've written #Kinda don't like the ending #but I didn't know how to finish it #killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk #party poison #The Girl #Emma's writing

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packsbeforesnacks · 4 years

Text

Misguided Ghosts || Matty & Winn

TIMING: Monday, May 25th, 2020, after Unbreakable Oaths and before The Trail Begins. LOCATION: Candleton Cemetery PARTIES: @likeamattoutofhell & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: Matty and Winn are both lookin’ for an escape. Nothin’ like the quiet of the dead to liven up a conversation. Winn makes a decision. WARNINGS: Alcoholism (mention), addiction (mention).

Running. Faster, faster. Had to get somewhere quiet, somewhere safe, somewhere with no people. Couldn’t hurt anybody, didn’t want to hurt anybody. Leave. Go away. Come back? Maybe. No time to think about that. Just run. Just… run. Winn’s lupine form cracked through the trees of the nature reserve, tripping over the odd grave marker in a thunderous one-wolf stampede. The wolf howled at him, telling him to go back, to k— No. No. He wasn’t like that. He didn’t hurt people. He wouldn’t hurt people. (Anymore?) He came to a halt in a patch of unclaimed (he hoped) grass, collapsing onto the ground, breathing in the late spring air and exhaling hard, labored, shaky. The sun had set past the horizon, and night was fast approaching. Winn couldn’t change back yet but, here, he’d be alone.

Drinking in a graveyard. Drinking and — Matty slumped back from his last line of ash, drawn across the smoothest edge on a bit of tumble-down masonry. With a sniff, another, he fumbled for the bottle of tequila he’d brought along. There. Sunk in the soft dirt at the back of this crumbled-open mausoleum he’d settled into. Because, now, there was a reason, for this. A good reason. To turn up hammered in a graveyard. Not the fuckin’ ambience, for sure. No. Easy: everyone was dead, already. Meaning, he could get stupidly, dangerously trashed, and be a danger to precisely no one. That was the idea. Going great, so far. He just hadn’t wanted to be at home, where some hunter might come knocking — fuck ‘em — or out, surrounded by loud, living hearts and songs he knew the words to. Songs they’d listened to together, howled out the van window, together, Bennie and him. Not right now. Right now, all he needed was…

Not that. He flinched, shrinking back against the stonework as something big, and quick, streaked by. A sudden thump. Panting. Real close, shit. Was it, like — hurt? Matty stayed put, listening, swallowing that tequila, finally. And snuffling, abruptly, twitching as the heat of that ash rolled down the back of his scalp, his spine, bone to bone, sinking in. Clapping a hand across his mouth, he didn’t quite manage to catch a couple rough coughs, shaken out as the high dug in. Fuck — just had to hope that thing didn’t hear. Whatever it was. Besides big enough to snap him in half.

The smell of this place was a mixed bag for Winn. The earthy, fresh smell of the flowers, the trees, the grass, relaxed him as he picked himself up off of the ground. The smell of dead, of death and decay, was here too, though, and Winn knew he could never fully relax so long as that smell soaked into everything good and alive about this place. When in France, Winn had seen the Parisian Catacombs and, though it was before he’d become a wolf, he’d felt like it was a fine place for the dead to rest. There was nothin’ in those corpses, no soul to speak of. He knew that, for sure, now, and the scent of rot had only given him more cause to support it. When he died, Winn wanted to be spread across the Appalachians, the ashes of his form giving life to the world. The thought of his body, fading away slowly under the earth, repulsed him — even if he knew, rationally, that his ghost wouldn’t care (if he even had a ghost).

He heard a cough, and his ears perked up, a low growl forming in the back of his throat. Was it a Hunter? No. No, they’d be smarter than to wait for him to hear them. But, then, he was at his near-weakest, even the run from the clearing to here had worn him out. He was close to shifting back into his human form. If it wasn’t a Hunter, though, the next-worst option was a regular human. Oh, they’d try to rationalize it (a deformed moose? bizarre coyote?), but Winn would always be nervous that the truth would come out, and that he’d end his entire species because of a careless mistake. He listened for a heartbeat, trying to suss out where the cough had come from, but heard… nothing. The wolf raised itself, ready to fight (if need be). He wanted to get away, not go to an early grave. He prowled, slowly, looking around the markers and the mausoleums, searching for a sign of another living being. Could he howl? No. Too dangerous, even this far away from the Moon. Scare it away? Unlikely, if it hadn’t run already. Just leave? No. Couldn’t risk the secret gettin’ out.

‘Course, when he’d been absorbed in his thoughts was when he came face-to-maw with a scaredy-ass lookin’ motherfucker.

Oh, fuck. Was it — no. Not the full moon. Almost no moon, actually, so… well, that didn’t change the fact that that, over there, was definitely a werewolf. Matty had seen a few. Enough to appreciate how much fuckin’ damage they could do, any day of the month. Even to a vampire. Eyes wide, bloodshot, Matty watched this monster watch him, slowly raising his hands. Hand. The tequila wouldn’t do him much good, unless he had to clock the thing. Really rather not get that close, to start with. “Uh — hey, there,” he slurred, the heat of that ash starting to burn a little, like usual. Normally, it was nice. Like sunshine. Now, staring down a werewolf, all he felt was antsy, boltish. No way, though. Couldn’t outrun that. So. Just had to hope they weren’t hungry. Or in the mood for playing. Such big teeth. A laugh jangled out of him, sounding nothing but nervous, the high at work. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ll, I’m gonna…” He was sort of getting to his feet, more or less. Less. “I’ll get outta your hair, yeah?” Another snicker, dry, thin. Panicky. Goddammit, he was gonna die a chew toy, in Candleton. Seriously? Did he have to get eaten unalive, too?

Oh, Christ, the dude was nervous. Winn listened again for a heartbeat, and found none. He logged that information away for later — he’d never met somethin’ without a heartbeat, though the list of suspects was scant. He could feel the wolf, exhausted, try to slip back in, so Winn let it, changing back into his human form, not really givin’ two shits about his nudity. Sighing, Winn tore a hand through his hair. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, looks like I was walkin’ in on a party.” He gestured at the bottle of tequila in the other man’s hand. “Don’t let me stop you; drink up. Just need to… rest for a minute, and I’ll be outta your hair.” He sat down on the grass, some semblance of modesty the only reason he didn’t stretch out and think about his life some. The stars were comin’ out, thank fuck, ‘cause he really needed somethin’ to wish on right now. “Name’s Winn,” he said, always sick of silence before it had a chance to settle. “Local werewolf.” Maybe about to be less local. “Can I get a swig o’ that, actually? Been a long fuckin’... year.” Sure, he wasn’t happy in January, but his life was less… complicated. Less movin’ parts, less people to keep track of, to keep ahold of. “What brings you here, Mr. No Heartbeat?”

Honestly, that was fuckin’ gnarly. Matty cringed, finger curling at the sight of all that… rearranging. And the sound of it. Fuck, man. But, okay. No more murder-claws-and-fangs. Solid. Just, just a lot of dude. A lot. With a blink, slow and sandy, Matty kept things cool. Respectful, you know. Wasn’t like this guy had decided to let it all hang out, not really. Must be a thing, for werewolves. Just. Yeah. “No, no, you’re cool. To stay, or whatever. I mean, it’s… a free cemetery,” he croaked, wrung out from — from everything. Sliding the rest of the way up, somehow, he stepped just close enough to pass the bottle. Would’ve gone back where he’d started, but. That was too far, now. So. He found himself a perch, some cracked headstone, and shook out of his jacket, a warm flush riding over his cheeks, his chest. Like sunshine, yeah. Best burn he’d ever had. “Matty. Local…” Mr. No Heartbeat. Of course he, Winn, could hear the difference. Werewolf shit. “Dude who drinks in cemeteries, apparently.” That’d do. One of those laughs came around, again, as he shook his head, hair a mess. What brings you here. Fuck. “Nothin’ good.” Wait, wait. He held that jacket out. Not like he needed it. “How about you, man? How’s shit?” Shit, obviously. Winn seemed like he wanted to talk, though. So. Given he wasn’t going to be wolf-chow, yeah. Matty could talk. Ash made that kinda stuff easy. Didn’t it?

Winn barked out a laugh at the man’s free cemetery quip. “Pretty sure the dead folks who had to pay for these tacky-ass mausoleums would wanna have a word with you, bro. Only free death is lettin’ the earth take you, or…” He shot the other man a glance, head tilted. “I mean, is it a free death if it doesn’t stick? No ‘ffense, first, uh, person-of-undead-persuasion I’ve had the pleasure to meet.” A swig from the bottle, the tequila burning as it went down his throat. Tequila made him sad, but, fuck it. Winn should be sad. Another glug, this time longer, just enough to buzz his head, make the stress headache go away. He wasn’t ‘bout to get caught drunk with his tail out… again. He stood, handing the bottle back to Matty, and took the jacket he’d been offered. He had half a mind to slip it over his chest, but figured he should cut the guy some slack. Looked like he was havin’ a time of it. There was a buzz about him, kinda like… well, Winn had known enough frat boys in college to know when someone was strung out. His head panged, sharp, decidedly not a stress headache. Huh. “Shit’s… bad,” he said, honestly. “Almost hurt a friend o’ mine. Didn’t, but… It can be hard, y’know, separatin’ the man from the beast. The more I try to push it back, the harder it fights to rip outta me.” He sighed. “I don’t know why ‘m tellin’ you this, bro, you didn’t expect a sob story when you came to, uh, drink in a cemetery. I’m… a counselor, almost. Wanna talk about it?”

Yeah, those tacky-ass mausoleums. Bennie wouldn’t have wound up in anything like that. Not that Matty knew, honestly, what she’d wanted — seemed to change all the damn time, every picture a little wilder than the last. They’d laughed about it, back then. Tie my corpse to a rocket, and send it off into space. Why not, yeah? Why the hell not? Matty scuffed a hand across his face, his nose, sniffing again, and swallowing, barely. Looking out, away. At a lotta night, and gravestones. A shit-ton of nothing. “Mm. Nah. Nothin’ free about it.” He glanced back, trailing a handle-with-care kinda chuckle. “More like some kinda sick cosmic debt than anything. And the fuckin’ interest. That shit’s killer.” Laugh it off. Had to try. God, was he ever happy to get that tequila back. Boot heels kicked up against some knocked-over statuary, knees poking through his worn-to-pieces jeans, Matty had a chug, then a sip. Just drifting, with the cool, loose breeze. Well, not just that. Listening. Seriously. Ash made that easy, too. Made everything easier. Even in arm’s reach of a werewolf. Fuck. If he were sober, or close as he got, he’d have booked it. Maybe that would’ve been the smart thing to do.

But Winn just sounded fuckin’ sad. And— Matty was nodding along, wincing, here and there. Hit close, some of that. “Fuck.” More tequila. “Yeah, it’s… you try. Trying matters, right?” It had to mean something. Not enough, maybe. Not all the time. But something, some days. “And you didn’t actually, actually do any damage, like you said. That’s—” that’s more than he’d managed, when it counted most. Not that everybody he half-or-less remembered hurting, since Arn, weren’t anything. They just weren’t Arn. Matty let that hang, and drop. “That’s good.” Another drink, then he passed the magnum back, with a weak shrug. “You say what you want, seriously. Counselors gotta get counseled too, huh? Not that I’d be, like, a good pick, for that. But.” But he was avoiding the question, and even an almost-counselor would catch that. Ground-up bird bullshit could only do so much, in the end. Tossing his hair out of the way — a bit, at least — Matty scraped up a smile. Something close enough, anyway. Folded fast, though, and crumpled hard. “I... I lost somebody.”

Winn had never given much thought to immortality. Death… It didn’t scare him, not even before he’d been turned, before he’d found out that there was something after this world. A debt. Nothing came without a price, he’d just said that to the guy, and he’d been serious, but he hadn’t considered what that might mean. “It must be… hard,” Winn tried, “to watch the world pass you by and not change with it, physically. Emotionally? All the time in the world t’ change, to really work at… whatever, but… all. Wow. ‘S almost too much, right? Our lives are so fuckin’ short, spit in eternity’s swimming pool. Most of us, we try to do everythin’ we can with that drop, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to be a bummer summer about it. Matty’s laugh was nice, considering how fake it felt. Winn hadn’t known the undead could drink themselves to death, but this guy sure was tryin’, by the looks of it. The wolf, when it was out, when the Moon was high and full, craved blood, craved flesh, and it had taken years to pull that urge to animals, stave off the uglier, cannibalistic parts of his adopted species. If this guy, what, drank blood? Had to, to keep livin’? Well, Winn could sympathize. Animal-to-animal.

“Thing is,” Winn started, taking a ‘bad idea’ pull off the magnum, “I’ve been tryin’, been tryin’ for years and years. Shovelin’ my own shit into the fire, hopin’ to burn up all the bad parts of me, to kill the guilt. And this…” He was too tired to be angry, really, and so he settled on: “This guy came into my life, recently, tried to tell me who I am, that I was… different, than I think I am, thought I was. And the thing is, I can’t tell ‘m he’s wrong, ‘cause I don’t know if he is.” He sat the tequila beside him on the ground, hands fisted in Matty’s jacket. Winn knew a thing or two about avoidance, wouldn’t have held it against him, but. Loss. How many folks did an immortal lose and care about? Would it be harder to care? Or would your heart stay open, painfully so? Winn coughed, the lingering tequila in his throat burning, just for a second. “Tell me about them,” he said. “They might be…” Winn’s mouth curved into a scowl, never an easy way to say this. “They might not be here anymore, but you remember them. I’m not sayin’ some cheesy, ‘don’t be sad ‘cause it’s over, smile ‘cause it happened’ bullshit. Naw, fuck that. You should get to grieve, and scream, and drink yourself stupid. But y’can’t keep it bottled up, ‘cause then no one gets to hear about that person, their memory stops with you. And that’s… well, worse than death, I’d think, to be totally forgotten. Stories, man. They stick with you, change you, even if you can’t feel ‘em changin’ you. So. Storytime.”

Hard. Fuck. Matty’s chest was caving in, word by word. Who just out and said that kinda shit, anyway? Like he wanted to think about how hard it was. All the time he had. What he was doing with it. That was the whole fuckin’ point of coming out here, like this, just… not thinking. Thinking as little as possible. That was the point of most things, these days. Honestly. “Yeah,” Matty started, hollowly. “It’s… a lot,” he finished. Or, almost. “I don’t know. S’what you make of it.” If that sounded like a fuckin’ platitude, it’s because it was. Because he didn’t have anything else. Just something to say, dragged off the bottom of this barrel he was seriously trying to drink dry. What the fuck was he supposed to make of this? He knew what it was supposed to make of him, had met enough real vampires to know what they all wound up as. Monsters. Those freaks who’d opened him up, laughing, and left him to die alone, with a smile. So, barring that. What? What did you get to be, living like this? Unliving. None of it made sense, on any, like, serious level. Never had. And nothing made that simpler, made it softer. Not really. Not for good. Just for long enough.

But that’d sound pretty fuckin’ miserable. For small, spiraling talk. In a graveyard. God, this must look bad.

Matty’s eyes ticked towards the tequila, hopefully. Nope. Didn’t seem to be coming back. He sure as shit wasn’t getting close enough to take it. Anyway, Winn clearly fuckin’ needed the stuff. “Sounds like an asshole.” He worked up a smile, sort of, another one of those brittle little laughs crumbling away from him. Wasn’t wrong, though. “C’mon. Maybe you don’t know if he’s wrong, but — if he was so right, if he really had you figured out, I mean, it’d… well, you’d know that. Yeah? And you don’t, so. Sounds like an asshole. People have to sort out their own shit, eventually. Nobody else can come along and fuckin’, like — tell you what you’re about.” His therapist had said something like that, ages ago. Ages and ages. Everything was ages ago. Bennie’s stories. Their stories.

With a sniff, and a brush at his nose, Matty managed a raw, watery chuckle. “Fuck, I’d have you out here all night. All week, shit…” He itched at that ashy, smoldering sensation, fingers scratching up the back of his neck. Resting there, cheek in his own hand. Eyes squeezed shut, burning in a way that had fuck all to do with all the phoenix he’d just blown through. “She was my fuckin’ hero. Like — like the best big sister you ever had. Didn’t take shit from anyone, wouldn’t let you, either. And she went out and did her thing, did her. Said stuff. What she thought. I ever wanted a real answer, about anything, I asked Bennie. Every time.” Dan, he’d be all easygoing. Key, a total enabler. Arn — Arn was always so goddamn gentle with him. Bennie, though. “She just — she kicked the door in. Everywhere. Didn’t apologize for fuck all, and, and yeah. Kind of a dick, sometimes, but.” But he’d loved her. Like they’d all loved each other, back then. When they were a thing at all. “It was like she walked around on fire, man. And I knew, if I just stuck close to that… nothing was ever gonna be too dark to deal with.” Only, he hadn’t. Not like Matty had meant to run, had — had even really been there, at all. Not like that mattered. Because she was gone, and it was done, and… he just had to smile because it happened. Sure. Smile and drink, if Winn ever tossed the tequila back.

Winn wouldn’t pretend that Matty’s words had no effect on him. He wasn’t a crier, for all of his loud emotionality. But he wondered if he had anyone like, what’s her name, Bennie? Someone like a sister, someone who wouldn’t take anyone’s shit. It sounded, honestly, like Blanche and her would’ve got on like a house on fire. Blanche… His mind wandered back to the clearing, trying to suss out what exactly had happened. Now, removed from the realness of the situation, back in his human form, Winn went through the scenario again, staring at the night sky pokin’ out from behind the clouds. He had been fine, until he hit the tree. Then, the wolf had, what, taken over? It hadn’t done that before… or, at least, not to Winn’s knowledge, his memory. Which… well, there was the rub. It wasn’t impossible that, when he’d been turned, when he’d… that the wolf had had a hold on him. That year or... two, all of it, was a blur of forests and dirt, and no specific memories stood out to him. He thought, again, of the way Salva’s scent had set him off. Was it even about Salva? No. It wasn't. But how had he come back to his senses? And… well, who would know? Winn— he needed more answers before he even knew what questions to ask.

“I’m sorry,” Winn said, lamely. Typically, he was, well, not amazin’ at grief counseling, but better than he was frankly prepared to be right now. “It sounds like you really loved her.” When he was gone, who would miss him? He had cut all of his ties, run away, lied and lied and lied. Even the folks he knew now, people he… cared about. They didn’t know half of the shit rolling around in his head. And some of that… some of that, he could keep to himself. But some of that, goddammit, he was so tired of being people he wasn’t. Winn Zhou. Winn Woods. In the space between them, that was where Winner was. The last time he’d felt real, the last time he’d had enough of himself to hold onto. Had people he loved, really loved, and who loved him in return. Hearing Matty talk about something so… final. It slotted something into place, something it felt like he should’ve learned a long time ago. He took that kernel of truth and laid it in the place in his heart next to where the wolf was caged. It wasn’t everything, but it was a start. Speaking of starts…

“Matty,” Winn said, rising from his place, holding the jacket delicately in front of his dangly bits. He left the magnum on the ground; he needed to be sober in order to drive and, even with his increased metabolism, it would take a little bit before he was ready to go. Enough time to get back to the cabin, talk to Blanche, and then some. “I’m sorry to leave you alone, and this is gonna be an extremely shitty thing to say. I’m off my game, forgive me, but you sound like you need someone to be honest with you, to tell you how it is.” He wrapped the jacket around his waist firmly, gesturing to Matty to figure out if it was alright for him to borrow it. “I don’t know much ‘bout Bennie, but I do know this: She would hate to see you drink yourself into an after-afterlife. I’m sorry she’s gone, really, I am. But you gotta keep livin’. Grieve, and push forward. Aaaaaand,” he turned to go, “come back here, same time next week. I’ll be on my game, and we can talk. You seem like you need someone to talk to, and, like I said. Almost-counselor. I work for free.” Winn turned his head back over his shoulder, winking, before walking off. “And don’t forget!” he called back. “I’m a werewolf! I can find your ass if you miss your appointment!”

No more lies. It was time for him to go home.

Yeah. Sounded like. Because he did. Always fuckin’ would. Matty just nodded, though, wrung out. At least that phoenix-heat was simmering properly, now. Almost felt alive to the touch, with enough of that stuff in him. Almost. He glanced up, barely, as Winn stood. Was that what he needed? If he’d had more in him, Matty might’ve bridled at the point. But he didn’t. The jacket, that got most of a shrug. Whatever. Poor dude needed it more.

Fuck, though. Winn wasn’t wrong. Bennie would’ve totally, fairly reamed him out for a stunt like this. The way she always did, when anyone was a good shake away from thinking right. Keep livin’. A smile snuck up on him, around there; not a strong one, but all the same. Hell of a thing to say to a vampire, yeah? Kind of funny. Kind of a punch in the kidneys. A good laugh, though. Could always use more of those. Someone to talk to — sure. He’d take that, as well. Or, at least, he might. Easier to think that sorta thing from up here, drifting on a stupid amount of everything. Yeah, from there… from there, he could see next week just fine. And that tequila. About to be unspoken for. Actually, fuck it. For later. Throwing off a loose wave as Winn ambled away, Matty took a long lean back, the world, the stars, spinning and sliding overhead. “Sure thing, man. You — look after yourself, huh?” Of all the people to track him down, honestly — Winn didn’t seem anywhere near the worst on the list. Which was saying something, at least.

Maybe something real shitty. So, nothing Matty wanted to look any closer at, right now.

Maybe next week. So long as Matty managed to drag his ass into the dark before morning. So long as Winn sorted out whatever was going on, over there. Seemed like some pretty rough shit. Maybe he needed somebody to talk to, as well. Hopefully over some more, you know. Therapeutic tequila.

#wickedswriting #para #Matty #Misguided Ghosts #Sunshine Riptide #alcoholism tw #addiction tw

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irwinkitten · 5 years

Text

to find peace | a.i

pairing: reader x ashton requested: no notes: so after the suffering @plainwhiteluke put us thru with fading (i’m so fkin proud of her omg) and the weekend from hell, this got written and it is pure fluff. enjoy. warnings: none word count: 2k

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The week was already overwhelming.

It was like the world was testing her resolve and her limit was slowly being reached.

She could feel the stress headache that was forming alongside the earache that had been building up for weeks. Today seemed to be the last straw for her temper as she reached the shop floor, a foot colliding with hers which sent her sprawling across the ground.

“Watch where you’re going shop girl!” A sharp voice snapped and she pulled in a deep breath, willing herself not to snap or cry.

“Sorry.” She managed to convey an apologetic tone, despite the bubbling emotions under the surface.

“Bloody useless staff members.” The customer muttered before leaving the shop. She pulled herself up off the floor, collecting the cash control book and banking stuff.

“You want me to lock the door?” Her sales assistant, Marley, called over and she nodded, tugging the lanyard that held the shop keys on and chucking it over as she walked to the tills.

Once the door was shut and locked, she kept her anger in as she set the tills up to be cashed up and began to get everything sorted out. The cashing up didn’t take too long, mercifully the tills being spot on. She got the sales posted off whilst Marley bagged up the tills and handed her the floats.

“Thanks for staying late today, I know you had plans.” Her voice was filled with gratitude towards the younger girl who shrugged.

“It’s fine. I know this week’s been tough, so I figured one evening isn’t a total loss. You got plans tonight?”

“I should be heading home, but I got a text from Ash asking if I wanted to do the shopping tonight so I could sleep in tomorrow.” Marley chuckled at that as she entered the office and locked up the safe keys and the floats. Once she checked there was nothing needed doing to keep her longer than necessary, she headed into the staff room and collected her stuff from her locker.

“At least you can enjoy tomorrow. Is it a big shop you need to do?” Marley enquired as the two of them tugged on their coats and scarves. The January was not as forgiving and they knew the temperature had dropped even more now the sun had set.

“No, I think Ash just wants to do some basic meal prep for the week. Since I’ve got it off, he doesn’t want to spend too much time cooking and at the moment, with how I’m feeling with my earache, I’ve not had much of an appetite, so he’s determined to try some new soup flavours.” The two of them giggled at that before they headed out, checking the lights were all switched off and the heating was turned off.

“Any big plans for the week?”

“Recovery day tomorrow. Then I don’t really know. The boys have been itching to show me around LA since I moved here, but never had the time.” This part was true, since the move from England to LA to manage a new store, the boys had been ecstatic and determined to show her the best places in LA.

But being a manager of a new store meant almost no time off, especially over Christmas.

“Does this mean you get to take them to some of the best places back home?” Marley inquired as she set the alarm.

She laughed as she unlocked the door and let the two of them out.

“I’ve told them that there’s nothing interesting about the town I lived in for a few years before I moved out here. But they won’t hear anything of it. That’s why the company are eventually giving me an assistant manager and deputy manager because when they head back to the UK, I’ve requested the time off to go with them and the company agreed on the basis I head to a couple of the UK stores and meet up with the Heads at their main offices in London.”

Marley grinned as the alarm set once the doors were locked.

“Well, I hope you enjoy this week off and let me know if you need me to book you into the spa.” She laughed.

“Are you that determined to get your hands on me, Marl?” They giggled together, their laughter echoing on the empty street.

“Of course. You’d get boss’ discount too.”

“I’ll text you and see if I can fit it into the week. See you later Marley.” She waved Marley off as the younger girl headed in the opposite direction. You headed to the corner of the street, waiting only a few more moments before Ashton pulled up next to you.

“Ride for lovely girlfriend of mine.” He teased as she slid into the car. She leaned over and kissed his cheek in greeting before getting her belt on and he peeled away from the side, making his way to the grocery store.

“It’s only a small list. I’ve got a bunch of recipes that I want to try, and I’m determined to make the broccoli and cheese soup.”

“Works for me.” She hummed softly, leaning back in the chair, her eyes falling shut in relief at being able to sit down. A hand slid into hers and a smile twitched at her lips as Ashton lifted her knuckles to his lips, a small kiss to them making her heart melt.

“The day is nearly over, love.” He murmured.

“I know. It’s just been a day filled with assholes. My ear has really been hurting today and we had some bellends just as we were closing up. Apparently I’m just a useless shop girl.” She snorted at that, finally opening her eyes to glance over and an amused smile was on his lips.

“Bellends, huh?”

“I have another word I could use, first letter beginning with c, last letter ending in t.” Came the tart reply and Ashton outright laughed.

“Wow, they must have really upset you to use that word.” He murmured as they pulled into the parking lot and she nodded.

“Honestly. The last couple were lucky that I didn’t swear at them as they left. I know you wanted to get this out of the way tonight so we don’t have to leave the house tomorrow or even unlock the door, but I’m just so damn tired.” He squeezed her hand tightly.

“We’ll be in and out before you know it. Promise.” He hummed and she sighed before nodding.

When they got into the store, they didn’t rush, he could see how exhausted she was. His arm slid around her waist and placed a kiss to her temple.

“How ‘bout you go and get some bread and a pizza for us. I’ll grab the last little bits on the other side.” He murmured and she nodded her head, turning her head to meet his lips before they split off.

The bubbling emotions returned when she couldn’t find the pizza that she’d already settled on having, reminding herself that it was a small thing, she didn’t need to fret over it.

It was when she couldn’t find the usual bread that she had that she could feel the tears bubble to the surface.

“Are you alright there ma’am?” One of the shop assistants caught her attention, hastily wiping at the tears of frustration.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day and I can’t find the super seeded loaf.” She explained and he smiled kindly before his own eyes scanned the shelves. It took him a few minutes before he pulled a tray from the bottom, replacing one of the empty tray with it and there it was, the bread she was looking for.

“It seems someone didn’t change over the trays. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” Once she collected the bread, she slowly made her way down the aisle, spotting Ashton with ease as he exited one a few rows from her.

His eyes took in her exhausted frame as she reached him and he opened his arms up immediately.

“I cried because I couldn’t find the fucking bread.” Her soft mutter reached his ears and he wrapped his arm around her tightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Let’s get home.”

Once the shopping was done and paid for, she could feel the struggle to keep her eyes open as she responded to a few texts, her hand resting on his on the gear shift.

As they got home and put the shopping away, she made some toast to nibble on as they moved around the kitchen and she could feel her exhaustion so close to the surface and Ashton could see she was dipping.

So he finished packing the stuff away quickly and before she could even protest, he’d swept her up into his arms bridal style, a soft grin on his lips as she nestled her face into his neck.

“Too tired to argue.” She muttered and he laughed as he carried her upstairs.

His fingers were soft and delicate as he helped her get changed, handing her one of his old graphic shirts she was so fond of wearing. She sat down in bed, her eyes watching him as he promised he’d be back soon, he just needed to lock the house up.

When he returned to the room, he found her slumped down on the pillow, legs still hanging over the edge of the bed and a soft snore escaping her lips. His heart twisted at the sight of her exhaustion, it wasn’t even eight pm and she was out like a light. But he could feel his love swell for the beautiful sight in front of him as she slept.

He was slow and careful not to wake her as he tucked her under the covers, climbing in beside her, switching on the tv. He knew his own sleep wouldn’t come to him till much later but he knew they both slept better next to each other and he knew she needed this.

Once he was in bed, she shifted in her sleep, her body moulding against his and he smiled as he flicked over to one of the sitcoms, his arm sliding around her shoulders as her arm settled itself over his waist.

Had he not heard her soft snores, he would’ve sworn she was awake.

It was the following morning when he woke up before her, both of them still tangled together and her breathing was soft and slow.

His fingers were gentle as he traced her skin, eyes memorising such a sweet moment before he pulled away carefully.

He headed into the kitchen and made breakfast for the two of them and it was as he was cooking the eggs, he felt a set of arms wind around his waist and felt her soft lips on the back of his neck, where his tattoo sat.

“Morning love, I figured to treat us both to breakfast in bed.”

“Okay.” Her reply was soft and he could hear the exhaustion still as he listened to her pad back up the stairs.

When he returned to their bedroom, he smiled at how she’d curled herself back up under the covers, eyes half closed as she looked through her phone.

“Thanks for the picture.” She hummed playfully and he smiled as he settled next to her, meeting his lips with hers.

“You looked too sweet not to take a picture. You wouldn’t let me move from the bed that’s how tight you were holding onto me.” He teased playfully and she groaned before accepting his plate of breakfast.

They ate quietly, her head resting against his shoulder as he switched on the tv once more, putting on some background noise as they finished their breakfast.

Her body twisted into his, arm thrown over his waist as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, his hand lifting to trace gentle lines along her back.

He could feel the smile against his skin as he placed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his eyes closing for a moment as he just enjoyed the rare moment of peace that they could share together.

“I love you.” She breathed and he smiled.

“I love you too.”

---

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#if u wanna be tagged just message me!!#ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin blurbs #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin imagine #5sos blurbs #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #my writing #ashton irwin fluff #5sos fluff #5 seconds of summer fluff #pls let me know when u change ur url so i can update my list pls

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Paper Hearts Chapter 3 (Branjie) - meggie

A/N: I keep saying I’m going to put this one on the back burner and focus on one of the 9,000 AU one-shots I want to write, but here we are.

Chapter Three: in which something has to change, Vanessa seizes an opportunity, and Brooke still can’t let go.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, either here or over on my personal tumblr @artificialmeggie. Or just come say hey or fangirl. That’s fine, too.

I also want to give a HUGE thank you to Q-tip for taking a look at this when I was having an existential crisis over this chapter (as you do) and assuaging my fears.

“I been thinking ‘bout you a lot,” Vanessa says to her the next time they’re alone, which is the next night, after they’ve wrapped filming for the day, after dinner, after a silent van ride back to the hotel where they’d held hands under the cover of Brooke Lynn’s jacket but avoided making eye contact because Silky had Vanjie and Plastique engaged in a conversation about wigs the entire way. The heat from their skin was nearly searing because the two of them have a secret now and it’s all Brooke’s been able to think about all day. She couldn’t even squeak out that stupid “Beyon-say what” line during filming because she’d been so preoccupied by it, her, them.

Actually, she’d pretty much bombed the entire challenge, if she’s being totally honest, and while she can’t blame Vanessa for her poor acting, she won’t lie and say she wasn’t a contributing factor.

They’re both lying on their stomachs on their respective balconies, hands stretched through the metal railings, the fingers of both hands laced together, and it isn’t the least bit comfortable, but it’s the most at home Brooke’s felt in this whole competition.

The dew fell hours ago, leaving Brooke’s shorts and the stiff white fabric of the hotel pillow where she rests her cheek damp and cool, and it has to be getting on toward two or three in the morning, but neither one of them has made any indication—despite trading stifled yawns every few minutes—that they want to go inside.

She’s come to revere these moments with Vanessa, treasure them. She tucks each one away in her memories and spends the next day replaying it, analyzing it, dissecting it for details she may have missed before. Vanjie’s like an expensive box of chocolate you get in your Christmas stocking; you want to devour the entire thing in one go, but you force yourself to draw it out, make it last, savor each piece individually so you can guarantee yourself that added pleasure when you most need it.

And boy, does Brooke want to devour Vanessa.

There are still traces of red lipstick around Vanessa’s mouth that are just visible in the moonlight and ambient glow of the city, and Brooke’s trying to convince herself that’s why she can’t look away from those full lips. It has absolutely nothing to do with their kiss. Nope. Nothing at all.

Except it has everything to do with their kiss, and she knows she’s just kidding herself because she wants more than anything to take Vanessa’s face in her hands, feel the stubble brush against the smooth skin of her palms, cradle her chin as they move their lips and tongues and mouths together while she kisses Vanessa like she deserves to be kissed.

So with all that going on in her head, she’s surprised at how measured and even her tone is when she responds, “Really?” like Vanessa hasn’t also been invading her every waking thought for the past eighteen hours.

“Mmm.” Vanjie releases one of her hands to trace patterns along the delicate skin of Brooke’s wrist. It’s driving her insane. “You distract me, mami.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do about it?” Brooke means for it to be teasing and flirtatious and contain a little bit of a hidden wink, a nod to what she know’s they’d both like to do about it, do to each other (not like they can act on it.), but Vanessa’s fingers are relentless, leaving trails of fire and wisps of smoke where they spark along the flash paper of Brooke’s skin. They’re combustible.

So instead of flirting, it sounds more like longing and yearning because the only time they’re truly alone is when they’re out here together like this, and this is hardly a way to further develop a relationship. It’s like prison, metal bars and all. And even some prisoners get conjugal visits, for god’s sake.

Vanessa sighs because she knows as well as Brooke Lynn does that there’s nothing they can do. At least for now, when they’re constantly monitored by either camera crews or production assistants or surrounded by the other queens or kept apart by a fifty-foot drop and two metal fences.

“I don’t know,” she finally says into the darkness and squeezes Brooke’s wrist. Sparking. Smoldering. “But sooner or later, we gotta figure something out. I can’t stand another seven weeks of being this close to you and not being able to be close to you.”

*****

Brooke decides overnight (or maybe first thing upon waking in the morning; it’s all a little fuzzy and she didn’t actually sleep that well) that Vanjie is absolutely right—something must be done; because as nice as holding hands on the van and balcony every morning, noon, and night is, Brooke wants to hold Vanessa, wants to take her tiny, delicate frame into her much larger, sturdier one and just protect her and kiss her forehead and nose and cheeks and pull her into her body as they fall asleep side by side, curled around each other.

Brooke bides her time while they paint for the runway (though she and Vanjie sneak tiny glimpses and glances and grins in the mirrors whenever possible) and waits patiently through their critiques (and how can she possibly ignore her, standing there in her rose-covered scales of truth, justice, and the American goddamn way?).

It’s unbearable. She might be a water sign, koi fish dancing across her body in this dress, but all she feels are flames licking at her feet, ignited and fanned by Vanjie’s Libra air, threatening to burn her from the inside if she doesn’t get some relief soon.

When production holds them backstage so Kahanna can have her final moment in the Werk Room, Vanessa finally seizes an opportunity when Brooke asks to use the restroom.

The PA nods and points in the general direction of the closest bathroom without looking up from her phone. “You need help?” the PA finally thinks to ask, but Vanjie brushes her off with a wave and winks at Brooke.

“I gotta go, too, so… I got it.”

Brooke tries to keep her smile contained as Vanessa falls into step beside her, and they’re walking so close together that their hands brush every few steps.

And then Vanjie’s hand is on the small of her back as Brooke twists the knob of the bathroom door and they tumble in together like horny teenagers—really, are they any better?—and thank god this restroom is single occupancy because Brooke is able to back Vanessa against the closed door and take her face in her hands and press their mouths together full-on like she’s been dying to do for the last day.

Ignition.

Vanessa’s hands are all over now, pulling Brooke closer to her, grasping as best she can at the slick blue and orange fabric of her dress, gripping through layers of panels and tights and padding in a vain attempt to make contact with skin and flesh, to pull them as close together as possible because this… This is what they meant by needing something to change, by not being able to spend seven weeks close without being close.

There’s heat and static and tiny moans and whimpers from both of them when their tongues meet, and Vanessa tastes like mint toothpaste and lipstick and something Brooke can’t quite place but thinks might just be her, and it’s then that she knows she wants more, more, more.

But then Vanessa pulls away and puts a hand to her mouth, and Brooke Lynn swallows hard because she knows exactly what the other is thinking. Because it’s good and real and intense, and honestly, it wouldn’t take much more than Vanessa asking her (or even just looking up at her with those glitter-lined eyes) for Brooke to strip their drag off, bend Vanjie over the sink, and pull her hair as she pounds into her from behind.

Hard.

Fast.

Relentless.

But they both deserve more than clandestine hookups in hidden bathrooms while a disinterested PA waits down the hall ten yards away.

They’re blazing.

They seem to make the decision silently, but together: if they’re doing this, they’re doing it right. So Vanessa reaches over and brushes a stray strand of Brooke’s hair back into place with a shy grin.

“Can’t have my jush looking out of place.” And then she presses her lips to the corner of Brooke’s mouth and they linger, arms wrapped around each other for as long as they dare. It’s not enough, but it’s something, it’s more.

When they pull apart, they stand side by side in the mirror as Brooke tries to salvage her lipstick, the soft nude shade now mottled with Vanjie’s vivid red. When she rubs it in enough it turns an acceptable shade of tannish-pink, and she prays that maybe none of the other girls will notice the change.

“Is it real obvious?” Vanjie asks almost timidly, after she’s taken a paper towel to her chin, trying her best to clean up where the red has bled into the foundation at her lip line. “I mean… Can you tell?”

Can she tell? Absolutely. And she wants nothing more than to kiss every trace of lipstick from Vanessa’s mouth. To kiss her hard and not stop until they’re both gasping for breath and all that’s left are swollen, plump lips on an already perfect mouth and neither one can remember what color their lipstick was when they started.

Can anyone else tell? Brooke thinks not and assures her as much. After all, it’s not like they’re wearing ninety-nine cent lipstick on the runway, for Christ’s sake. This stuff has some staying power.

They embrace for one last hug and one last slow, careful, lingering kiss to get them through until the next time (whenever it may be) and rejoin the rest of the girls, and Brooke can’t help but notice that A'keria eyes them carefully and her gaze flicks back and forth between them a few times before a smug smile fixes itself on her lips.

After they’re undressed and dedragged and wrapped for the night, Brooke is first to the van (as usual), but she can’t shake that image of A'keria and her little knowing grin. So she implores Nina and Shuga to sit in the back with her as they file in. No big deal, Brooke thinks, they always sit in different places.

But they haven’t, at least not her and Vanessa, not since Vanjie claimed her spot by Brooke’s side that morning after their first night on the balcony. They are always together. Always huddled in their own corner of the van, thighs brushing, fingers wrapped around each other but hidden from view, heads bent low as they talk about the day’s events, ignoring everyone else, everything else, staring at each other’s lips and into each other’s eyes and wishing, hoping, praying for any moment alone.

She thought they’d been so careful. Maybe they haven’t been careful enough. Maybe they’re a wildfire.

A'keria looks confused and maybe even a little disappointed as she climbs into the van and sees Brooke sandwiched between Nina and Shuga, but Vanessa… Vanessa’s radiant smile falls from her lips and she meets Brooke’s eyes for only a split second before Brooke feels far too guilty and has to look down at her lap and start picking superglue from her nail beds.

Vanjie sits in the front with A'keria and Silky, and she remains quiet for the entire ride. She’s hurt, and Brooke is responsible for that hurt, and that’s worse than anything A'keria thinks she might have seen.

Later than night, Brooke takes her usual midnight cigarette break before bed expecting to see Vanjie, talk to her, explain the situation, how she was feeling, how they really must start being more careful because A'keria might know and that would spell disaster for both of them, especially if—when—she tells someone else… But Vanessa never emerges from her room.

So Brooke Lynn smokes three cigarettes instead of one, alone in the middle of her balcony, gazing out on the lights of Los Angeles that lose some of their shine without Vanessa there beside her.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #slow burn #angst #paper hearts #meggie #on set fic #canon compliant #s11

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years

Text

Summer Song

It is officially summer, and getting stupid warm and humid where I am, so time for some summer fic! Knocked this out as I finish up the last of the requests in my inbox, those will be out in the next day or so, I promise!

Of course, rights for the book quoted in this one, The Pearl by John Steinbeck go to...well, Steinbeck. A favorite of mine (I will reread Cannery Row at least once a year until the day I die probably) so I couldn’t resist putting a quote in, especially since The Pearl was on a list of Most Read for the late 40′s/early 50′s.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!!

The ride to the beach wasn’t long, only a bit over an hour, but everything felt languishing and elongated in the heat.

Snafu had agreed to drive, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open already, an extra pair of Eugene’s sunglasses on his face. “We’re gonna melt before we get there. Can you still get burnt if you’re already melted?”

Eugene shrugged. “We’ll find out. It’ll be worth it though; I can already feel the water.”

“That’s sweat, darlin’,” Snafu replied, wiping at his own forehead with a free hand.

“No, you gotta envision it right. Think about it: hot sand underneath those ugly ass sandals of yours,” Eugene started, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.

“These sandals made it through a fuckin’ war, to get rid of them would be a crime,” Snafu interrupted. “Besides, they’re comfy.”

“And barely held together by anything except hope,” Eugene laughed. “But I digress. Back to the beach. All that hot sand, until we get to the edge of the water. Can you hear it, lapping at our feet? And we’re the only ones out there, so that’s all there is to hear. The water, movin’ slow. The sand shiftin’ underneath us as we walk. Sound of the birds flyin’ overhead. Sweatin’ under the sun, but paying it no mind once we’re in the water.”

Snafu was watching the road, but was moving his jaw in the way that Eugene knew meant he was listening, creating exactly what he was saying in his head.

“And we float out there together, not a care in the world. Once we get sick of that, we’ll come back onto the sand and lay out the blanket and the umbrella. I can read to you while we sit and dry off, and play with your hair the way I know you like. Let you fall asleep on me, ‘cause I know you’re gonna,” Eugene smiled.

“What book did you bring?” Snafu asked.

“The Pearl. Didn’t want to drag anything too heavy with us. We got enough to carry,” Eugene replied.

Snafu nodded, his jaw still moving away, Eugene knew unconsciously. He wondered what else Snafu might be picturing them doing on the beach together.

It was mercifully slow at the beach, somehow. He figured the others, bigger and with more amenities, were probably swamped. That worked perfectly for them now.

There was a slight breeze, and the fabric of Snafu’s shirt hanging loose shifted as he stood near their chosen spot while Eugene set up. It was a small thing, but it made Eugene want to pull him down onto the blanket and hold him tight. Something about the sight of the baby blue material against his skin made his breath stick in his chest, and his hands yearn to touch that skin.

“You gonna go in right now?” Snafu asked, still facing the gulf’s crashing water as he kicked off his sandals.

Truth be told, he was content to just stare at Snafu, frozen in the scene of the sun beating down, the white sand, and the blue sky contrasting against the sight of Snafu standing there, perfect.

But the call of the water was enticing.

“Yeah. May as well before we melt,” he replied, yanking off the T-shirt he wore and leaving his sandals near the blanket. It was the only part of his uniform that he’d put into the rest of his wardrobe, if only because it was damn comfortable.

More comfortable was bare skin against Snafu’s, his shirt abandoned by Eugene’s on their blanket along with their sunglasses.

He hadn’t gotten into the water intending on immediately pulling Snafu close to him. It had hit him hard, the need to suddenly have Snafu near as possible, a different kind of heat layered on top of the heat from the sun.

He let himself lean lightly, ever so carefully, against Snafu’s back as they floated in the water, the sensation of touching Snafu the only thing on his mind.

Snafu turned around, pulling him against him without a word. It was something that didn’t need to be spoken, the identical need to just touch and be touched, but only by each other, with no particular reason behind it except that they were together, on a day where no obligation could reach them, with love just sitting in the wings, waiting for all of this free time so it could be properly expressed.

“Think there are sharks out here?” Snafu asked, and Eugene snorted.

“We’re havin’ a nice romantic moment here, and...Snaf,” Eugene sighed. “And yeah, probably. Not near us, in theory. But somewhere out here, yeah.”

“Just wonderin’,” Snafu murmured. “Gotta know if I need to protect you, y’know.”

“You’d fight off a shark for me?”

“Fight off a whole...whatever a group of ‘em is called. Clusterfuck? Whatever, point is they’d never touch you,” Snafu replied.

“A clusterfuck?” Eugene giggled. “Well, you know I’d do the same for you.”

“Hm,” Snafu muttered. “Speak and they do appear.”

“Sorry?” Eugene turned in time to see a fin in the water. “Snaf, were you gonna tell me about that?”

“Was gonna just drag you out with me, to be honest,” Snafu replied, a hand on his arm pulling him along as he moved them back towards shore. “Could be a dolphin.”

“Could be, sure,” Eugene agreed, grateful for the feeling of the sand under their feet as they got out of the water. At least they hadn’t been too far out. “Better not to disturb whatever it is though. Can always go back out later.”

Snafu nodded, and grabbed his hand as they stood there, watching the fin move in the water.

“S’weird. I know that if that thing really is a shark, had bumped into us and taken a bite out of either of us...I know that’s dangerous,” Snafu sighed. “But it doesn’t...register. Know what I mean? Like I know the danger is there but I don’t...feel it right. I mean, that’s nothing compared to Peleliu, Okinawa...but I should be scared of it, right?”

“I mean...sharks don’t know any better, really. They’re just tryin’ to figure out if whatever they bumped into is food or an enemy or whatever. But yeah, still dangerous in a way, since we’re pretty much alone out here and all. But I get it. There’s so much random shit that scares me when it probably shouldn’t. Then there’s stuff like this, and it feels like nothin’ in comparison to what you already been through, so it’s like,” Eugene shrugged. “I can watch something that I know could potentially cause my death swim on by and have no issue, but tomorrow night I might have a nightmare so bad I won’t sleep well for a week.”

“...we’re a little fucked up, huh?” Snafu asked, his hand squeezing Eugene’s.

Eugene squeezed back as he led them back to the blanket. “Yeah. Think if you made it back, then you are. Just the nature of it.”

He moved their clothes and put on his sunglasses, handing Snafu’s over to him as he lay down and patted the blanket, warm from the sand. “Let me read to you.”

Snafu lay down beside him, curled up against him. “We started it last night, but I don’t remember where we were...fell asleep on you. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“I marked it before I fell asleep. We barely got it started, honestly. You can fall asleep on me now too, if you want,” Eugene smiled.

“You just like watchin’ me sleep,” Snafu smirked, and pressed a kiss to Eugene’s chest.

“Yeah,” Eugene replied. “Not my fault you’re so damn cute when you sleep.”

Snafu giggled and wrapped an arm around him, his breath warm on Eugene’s neck, and Eugene melted.

He pulled the book out from the small bag they’d brought with, sitting just outside of the shade of the umbrella.

“You already sleepin’?” he teased as he watched Snafu’s chest rise and fall, slow and relaxed.

“Nah. Just comfy. You gonna read or just admire me all day?”

“I can do both,” Eugene chuckled as he opened the book with his free hand, the other wrapped around Snafu, keeping him close.

They were only five paragraphs in, meeting Kino and his family for what had to be the fifth time now, more if they counted all the times they’d read the book individually, not just together.

“In Kino's head there was a song now, clear and soft, and if he had been able to speak of it, he would have called it the Song of the Family,” Eugene read.

“What would ours sound like?” Snafu asked.

“What?”

“Our Song of the Family. You, me, all the kids back at home. If we put it in a song, what do you think it’d sound like?” Snafu asked.

“Not sure. Feel like it could sound like a lot, all at once. Almost discordant. Especially if we let the kids sing on it, I mean...” Eugene laughed.

Snafu snorted. “Could you imagine? With what backin’ them?”

“Piano, and I’m not sure all what else,” Eugene replied. “What do you think?”

“Piano’d be nice. Can do a lot with it, since it’d be a long song,” Snafu said.

“Oh yeah?”

“’Course. It’s gonna play for the rest of our lives, so we gotta have an instrument that can go the distance, y’know? Convey a bunch of different moods and feelings,” Snafu answered.

Eugene nodded, and set the book down. His eyelids were heavy, and he knew Snafu was probably just as sleepy. It was hard not to be, in the heat, sitting comfortable in each other’s arms.

“Think I can hear it now,” Eugene said, moving to intertwine his legs with Snafu’s.

Snafu leaned in close to him, and sighed happily. “Me too. I like it. The best song I’ve ever heard.”

“It is,” Eugene whispered as he let his eyes start to close. In a few hours, they’d start the drive back home. But for now there was the crash of the water, the warmth of Snafu in his arms, and their Song of the Family playing in his head.

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu #I legit intended this to get smutty but instead it went cute and sweet #still loved writing this though

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wizardwisenmore · 5 years

Text

First Aid Gives Rodimus Hell

@alyonian a fic based on those posts about thunderclash asking first aid to write fanfiction for him

i put the final touches on this at like 4am so it might be a bit wonky, will look at it with a more awake mind later

The purple datapad that goes with First Aid everywhere is, supposedly, a personal journal for keeping track of schedules and random ideas to look at later. Which, in fact, isn’t completely incorrect but those schedules happen to be for in-person or online meetings with his clients and those little ideas he writes are for said clients. Well, now, “client” sounds a bit risque but what he’s doing is perfectly legitimate in First Aid’s opinion. He ignores the several helpful reminders from Ambulon that he writes literal porn sometimes, some of it far raunchier than one would initially think the medibot capable of. Hey, all that built up tension daydreaming about the Wreckers had to go somewhere right? So, whenever Ambulon does feel like reminding him, First Aid just in turn reminds of that nice, new, adjustable, and expensive berth he was able to buy him because of his “smutty money” which tends to shut him up pretty fast. First Aid is a bit loathe to admit how bad his far more, ahem, specialized stories are even to Ambulon. He supposes his willingness to write these kinds of stories is what got him his four regulars as well as his latest request from an anonymous individual that- Okay, no, First Aid knows exactly who it is. It’s so painfully obvious but he just doesn’t have the heart to tell Thunderclash that he knows it’s him. That big, soft-hearted lug is just so hopeless when it comes to hiding his identity, just, Primus, First Aid is having a field day with this one. The names of the main characters alone are enough to practically shout that his latest client is none other than the Greatest Autobot of All Time.

The content that’s been requested is more of a surprise than the fact that Thunderclash of all bots is commissioning a personalized story (fantasy) from him. He’s requested a story with two bots the heroic Lightningclash and the charming, beautiful, charismatic, kind, (the list goes on) Radius who find themselves (gasp) stuck on a planet alone together with no immediate way of contacting their ship. Lightningclash and Radius are then put through several perilous situations in which they save each other thus becoming closer and better people through their shared experiences (First Aid had rolled his optics at the cheesiness of it all but this is Thunderclash after all and he’s paying very well so, who cares?). While these initial interactions started out innocent enough, Thunderclash had become a bit bolder and requested a particularly saucy scene that takes place in a cave full of bioluminescent plants. First Aid doesn’t know if he should be ashamed or proud that he only hesitated for a split second before agreeing to write self-insert smut for Thunderclash with Rodimus or “Radius” as he’s being called in this specific rendition. He only hopes he can manage to write it without making it too obvious he knows and still be able to look Rodimus in the eye.

Ambulon shakes his head as First Aid taps the send button that makes a characteristic “woosh” sound as Thunderclash’ smut gets sent away to be consumed by the poor pining bot. He tries not to let it weigh too heavily on his mind as he goes about his work and even almost forgets about it entirely until Ambulon speaks up.

“Hey, First Aid?” Ambulon says over his shoulder while studying a datapad.

“Yeah?” First Aid looks over to him, medkit in hand.

“It’s a good thing that account of yours is anonymous,” Ambulon pulls a pained smirk and flips his datapad over to reveal the screen to First Aid, “because you just sent your smut to the entirety of the Lost Light.”

First Aid is definitely proud to say he didn’t faint then and there.

Thunderclash is just relaxing in his habsuite when a message pings in on his hud and he see that the story he requested from “NotaPrime” has been completed and opens it with no small amount of excitement. Another glance at the message has him frowning though. It seems that for some reason the message was sent to all of the Lost Light for whatever reason. Thunderclash worries for a moment that something might be up but puts it off for the time being in favor of his commissioned piece. A part of him cringes as he begins to read, the part of him that tells him that indulging in his fantasies this way is unhealthy and even creepy. If he was honest with himself he knows that this is just because he knows he could never be with someone like Rodimus, especially not when it seems as though he’s done something to upset the mech. All of that is forgotten, however, when he lands upon the scene where Lightningclash and Radius take shelter in a cave and things heat up.

His immediate reaction is damage control. He’s automatically sending Thunderclash an apology while rushing to call in a favor with Perceptor to delete the story from everyone’s accounts. The questions that surely will come with it he can handle, exposing himself to Perceptor is a small price to pay to maintain some semblance of dignity in the eyes of the rest of the crew. Anyone who reads it will know just who the smut is about. At this point it’s just a matter of beating the clock, a thought that urges him on, running through the halls ignoring anyone who tries to wave him down. Thankfully most people just get out of his way. Ah, the perks of being a medical officer. As he turns one corner just before the labs he spots Nautica looking over a datapad, giggling. He’s just about to put it off as paranoia until-

“Pfft, Lightningclash? Really?” Nautica chuckles as she consumes the little surprise gift that popped up in her messages.

First Aid doesn’t think he’s run this fast since before the war was over. Ragged and panicky, he makes it to the lab door just as a message pings in from Thunderclash’s anonymous account. It’s enough to make First Aid freeze in confusion and complete astonishment. The message reads:

“Oh! Yes, I saw that! But no worries! I was a little confused and concerned at first but you’re explanation clears that right up. I don’t mind other people seeing my commission. I’m sure nothing bad will come of it. Thank you for clearing that up and for the story. What I’ve read so far is wonderful!

-sent from Thorguy”

First Aid feels a crawling beneath his plates as if his circuits were doing a low-level defrag as he just stares at the door panel to the lab. Did he think he’d feel regret? Did he really think that flamboyant , energetic Thunderclash would feel shame? Apparently First Aid didn’t know him at all. Well, he did commission blatant and explicit porn so, perhaps First Aid underestimated the durability of his pride. These thoughts flicker through his processor until one very key factor filters through the calming thoughts. Thunderclash doesn’t know First Aid knows it’s him or how he knows it’s him. Thunderclash thinks he’s secure. Thunderclash thinks no one will know who the story is about.

“That idiot,” First Aid rests his helm against the lab door.

The door panel slides open to reveal a very confused Brainstorm with various pieces of tech bundled in his arms making First Aid jump back, startling him out of his dark reverie. Tension bounces between the two mechs both trying to decide what to say.

“Uh, I was picking up some spare parts from Percy,” Brainstorm jostles the odd bits and ends as an indication of what he’s referring to.

“Right, yeah, sure,” First Aid backs up to let him pass, “I just, uh, was hoping to ask Perceptor for a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure something’s wrong with my spam filter. I’ve tried everything but I just can’t set it up properly.”

“Oh, right, mundane stuff. Yeah, more his thing.”

They fumble a little as Brainstorm makes his leave and First Aid walks into Perceptor’s lab, exventing heavily after all the stress begins to ebb away. When he takes a look around the lab the dimness and slight mess strikes First Aid as a little unusual for the normally tidy scientist. When he spots Perceptor he can’t help but feel a little concerned at how tired he looks with his shoulders sagging as he leans back up against a counter and his fully exposed optics shuttering lazily every so often. First Aid makes his way to Perceptor’s side startling the bedraggled microscope and begins to do an impromptu preliminary check up.

“Ah, First Aid, wh- what can I help you with?” Perceptor manages to say after getting over his initial shock.

“First, you can tell me what you were doing that taxed your systems this much,” First Aid remarks, shaking his head at the results of his scan.

“Brainstorm and I pulled an all-nighter and I neglected to refuel,” Perceptor looks away in shame.

“You know that’s not good for you but even if you did that that still wouldn’t have been enough to make you this tired.”

“Yes, well, it was a long night.”

“It certainly must have been.”

Perceptor doesn’t say anything while keeping his optics anywhere but towards First Aid only succeeding in making the beginnings of serious worry bubble up in the medibot.

“Perceptor, be honest with me,” First Aid levels himself so that he’s face-to-face with Perceptor, “What’s going on with you and Brainstorm?”

The effect of that statement is instant and Perceptor struggles to find his voice in an awkward cluster of broken syllables. Eventually he gives up and exvents.

“I probably should have gone to see you about it earlier. I noticed that it wore me out quite a bit before but didn’t feel it was anything to worry about. This particular bout was especially tiring though. I try to reassure Brainstorm but it’s gotten to a point where I think I can’t just blow it off as nothing anymore,” Perceptor seems to have gathered himself more, managing to explain himself more thoroughly and honestly.

“Wait, so you mean…”

“Brainstorm and I have initiated an intimate and sexual relationship. Our sessions together leave me lethargic and I often have to recharge for a longer period in order to make up for it.”

“Oh!” First Aid brightens and begins a more thorough check of his systems, paying close attention to the power systems linked up with his interfacing array.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything seems to check out. I don’t understand why you would be experiencing such heavy energy withdrawal.”

“Then why…?”

“Uh, this may seem a bit intrusive…”

“No, it’s alright.”

“How are your sessions normally? Is there anything you can think of that may relate to this?”

“Well,” Perceptor retracts into himself again, “Brainstorm is rather energetic. He never seems to get tired.”

“So you try to keep up with him,” First Aid sighs and shakes his head, “You shouldn’t push yourself like that. That or you should allow yourself more breaks. If you don’t tell him you’re wearing down he won’t be able to take that into consideration.”

Perceptor holds his face in his hands and nods.

“If you want Rung-”

“No,” Perceptor looks up, “I can take care of this. Thank you, I had wondered after all and you provided an answer. I should have realized…”

“Well, I can understand with a good partner it can be easy to get carried away,” First Aid relishes the bashful side of Perceptor he’s seeing now, “You should get some rest now to make up for you latest ‘session’ though.”

After a brief episode of mortification, Perceptor returns the light levels of his lab to normal and buts is monocle back on. He looks for all the world that he hadn’t just been absolutely ravished by his lab partner just minutes ago. The weight of his exhaustion still lingers but he looks more like his professional self.

“So,” Perceptor clears his intake, “did you need something.”

Everything he’d meant to talk to Perceptor about suddenly rushes back to First Aid making him feel a bit dizzy. All that had transpired just pours out of First Aid and Perceptor patiently listens to him then pulls out a datapad before First Aid is finished. At the end of the panicked explanation, First Aid watches Perceptor as he hums thoughtfully over the screen revealing the activity history of the accounts of the Lost Light Crew. First Aid begins to fidget as more and more time passes with Perceptor just analyzing the datapad.

“I have good news and I have bad news,” Perceptor finally tears his attention from the pad.

“Bad news first.”

“It seems as though that not only have many of the crew members opened the email but have actually taken the time to read it.”

First Aid slumps at this new information, “And the good news?”

“It seems as though Rodimus has yet to open the message.”

“Thank goodness for his lack of work ethic but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t found out about it.”

“Doesn’t mean he has either.”

In another part of the ship Drift sees a strange message appear on his hud and he opens it to find fanfiction that is very thinly disguised Thunderclash and Rodimus slash fic. As he reads it he has to take several breaks to laugh for a good minute and when he reaches the scene with the cave he chokes on air which causes Ratchet to find him in the middle of a coughing fit.

“Drift, are you alright?” Ratchet comes over, concern written on his face.

Drift nods and when his coughing finally dies down he says, “Yeah, just got to point in this story that really caught me off guard.”

“What story?” Ratchet looks at the datapad Drift is holding.

“It looks like someone has written a piece with our captain and Thunderclash having an adventure together,” Drift turns the datapad so Ratchet can see it better.

“Who would want to read something like that?” Ratchet looks over the story some more, “Rodimus doesn’t even like the guy.”

“I don’t know,” Drift shakes his helm, “but whoever wrote this is one kinky bastard.”

First Aid rests his helm against a desk, slumped over in a chair thinking about how he can handle this situation. His break down of it essentially comes down to Thunderclash not knowing he’s the author, the story is obviously about him and Rodimus but it can’t be immediately traced back to Thunderclash, and so long as Rodimus remains oblivious things shouldn’t get out of hand.

“First Aid,” Perceptor leans against the desk he’s sulking on, “I take it that it would be an issue for Rodimus to find out and not Thunderclash is because Thunderclash is your commissioner.”

“Yup.”

“I would have never suspected him having feelings for Rodimus if it weren’t for this slip up. However, with this realization and further reflection I can recall several occasions that are now painfully obvious as acts of endearment on Thunderclash’s part.”

“Right? If you have the time you should actually read the story. All his little requests and the details he leans on make it all the more obvious just how hopeless he is,” First Aid leans back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Then perhaps this is a blessing in disguise,” Perceptor puts his chin in his hand and First Aid looks at him as though he installed a second head, “I know that sounds a little ridiculous but think about it. Thunderclash clearly wants to express his feelings to Rodimus but Rodimus has put up not-so-subtle barriers that prevent that from happening. If manipulated in the right way it could ease the situation and make it possible for Thunderclash to overcome those barriers and/or encourage Rodimus to tear them down all together.”

“You want me to hook up Thunderclash and Rodimus with smutty fanfiction.”

“Don’t you?” Perceptor leaves First Aid alone to contemplate that after stating that he feels the need to have that conversation with Brainstorm sooner rather than later.

First Aid winds up going back to the medbay to an annoyed Ratchet and inquisitive Ambulon who are both very interested in what he was up to. He waves them off claiming he’s had a very long morning and will tell them about it later. Ratchet huffs, clearly agitated but lets it drop, however, Ambulon doesn’t let go so easily and is only satisfied when First Aid pulls him aside to explain it had been too late by the time he and Perceptor got to assessing the damage.

“The entire crew has read it?!” Ambulon stumbles a bit in his surprise and nearly drops his tools.

“Most of the crew has read it,” First Aid clarifies, exasperated, “Rodimus, thankfully isn’t really in the habit of checking his messages.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I am very grateful for it. Can you imagine what he’d do if he found out?”

“When he finds out.”

“Right… yeah…”

They continue working like they aren’t waiting for the inevitable shitstorm that’s brewing on the horizon. First AId rests in a state of emotional lapse now having his panic forcibly ripped from him in the wake of Thunderclash’s response and Perceptor’s view on the matter at hand. He mulls in the space between screaming endlessly into the void and the vast hollowness that can only come from making a mistake as bad as the sheer hell that First Aid has unleashed. Humming along to the panicked rhythm that begins to rise within him almost has Ratchet coming over to ask him if he’s alright. Through his new bout of nerves the start of a plan forms which eases some of his distress and what Perceptor said inspires him to take advantage of this disaster. He could get Rodimus to at least acknowledge his unfair distaste for Thunderclash, maybe even convince him it is unfair. Then a devious thought crosses his mind that brings him out of his self-sentenced personal hell by realizing how much chaos he could actually cause. Forget pride and reputation for that has been all but lost, while he has a stylus in his hand he can write the world into a frenzy and make all good-hearted souls wheep. He will bring about a reckoning that will lead the crew into madness and he will delight in the absurdity of it all instead of letting it sweep him away. This is probably not what Perceptor had in mind but any semblance of a calm and rational take on this has already been thrown out of the airlock. He has the power, he shall see that big goofball get his mech even if it gets him kicked off this ship.

“Aid?” Ambulon turns to him, a sudden thought striking him, “Did Megatron read it?”

“...slag.”

Megatron had just gone through his normal morning routine when the surprise message popped up, the contents of which surprised and appalled him. Anyone willing to go into that much detail on Rodimus’s spike or “Radius’s”rather is a depraved individual the likes of which he has only known during the war among certain circles of the Decepticons. He had powered through mostly due to immense boredom and sheer morbid curiosity. The reasoning for sending it to the entire crew puzzled him for if it was meant to be a prank it wasn’t very well executed for anyone who knew Rodimus for even a day would know he doesn’t check his messages. So, that means it had to have been a mistake and this thing about a “commission” detailed at the beginning would mean that not only was it a mistake but a very severe one. Megatron finds himself pitying whoever the writer was. In his opinion the story is solid if a little off in the dialogue and the plot is engaging making it one of the better things he’s read on this ship in the past few years. He just can’t fathom why anyone would want such a story enough to pay for it unless…

“Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Ultra Magnus who had been going over the daily reports turns to Megatron.

“I think that Thunderclash might be enamored with our captain,” Megatron muses.

“What? What makes you say that?” Ultra Magnus lowers his his servos from his work putting his full attention on Megatron.

“Have you received that strange message with a story attached to it? I think it was probably commissioned by Thunderclash.”

“It… that would make sense,” Ultra Magnus looks off in thought, “That poor mech.”

“Indeed.”

It doesn’t take too long for the entire ship to become all abuzz with the fanfiction which means everyone in Swerve’s is talking about it. Tailgate is chatting excitedly with Swerve and Rewind who nod along to his rapid-fire analysis of the story. Nautica seems to be just as enthused by the epic of Lightningclash and Radius while also having recruited Brainstorm to hold Nightbeat back from telling Rodimus what’s going on and explaining the entire mishap. First Aid is pretty sure he also knows that he wrote it but has been kind enough not to tell anyone. It also seems as though everyone has silently agreed not to tell Thunderclash that they know the story is about him and those few that suspect him as the mysterious commissioner have neglected to say anything as well. First Aid couldn’t have dreamed of a better reaction than this. He mentally gives himself a pat on the back as he looks around the bar and Ambulon rolls his optics, undoubtedly noticing his fellow medibot’s smugness. First Aid ignores him in favor of watching a happy Thunderclash excitedly going over a particularly dramatic scene where Lightningclash is being tended to by a distraught Radius with a particularly patient Perceptor who looks equally endeared and distressed.

“This line here ‘With Thunderclash’s helm in his servos and those dimly glowing red optics looking softly and lovingly up at him, Radius knew that no one else would go further or fight harder for him than his Lightningclash.’ Don’t you think that it just so wonderfully expresses the building undefined something between Lightningclash and Radius?” Thunderclash reads from a datapad and emits a dreamy sigh.

Perceptor takes a moment to steady himself before calmly turning to Thunderclash, “It is a solidly written line that clearly portrays Radius’s revelation. I think it’s the definite turning point in their relationship.”

First Aid stifles maniacal laughter as he watches Perceptor flub through a very detailed in-depth reading of the story and swears he can see Perceptor’s life force slowly leave his body. Ambulon gives him a look that lets him know that he’s enjoying this far too much but he can’t find it within himself to care. He’s sure that sooner rather than later he’ll have to face the consequences for his actions so he’s deciding to enjoy what he can while he can. The clincher to his ever-elevating mood is a little ping that notifies him of a very enthusiastic message from Thorguy A.K.A Thunderclash A.K.A Lightningclash. He excuses himself and heads back to his habsuite because, right now, he has a story to write and this time he has explicit permission to share it with the crew so all the better really.

Okay, so, Ratchet knows now but that’s something that’s been coming for a while now because of the glimpses he’s caught on Aid’s infamous purple datapad. First Aid thinks he takes it rather well seeing as how he faces minimum yelling but, unfortunately, Ratchet does wind up outing him to the others. This only succeeds in causing a hoard of the unexpected fans to pester him about the next story and for Thunderclash to confess that he had been the one to commission the first two stories. The lack of surprise from his peers is palpable making him retreat to a table in Perceptor’s lab to contemplate his apparent lack of subtlety. First Aid notes how Ratchet isn’t disappointed by the lack of backlash and notes how he didn’t include Rodimus in this suedo-intervention, not to mention the yelling devolved into critique of his latest story, the sequel to the first one everyone’s started calling “Cave Escapades.” This exposure has brought on a new problem, though. Everyone seems to have gotten very invested in the story of Lightningclash and Radius so they’ve all really started to get on his case about the update. First Aid had hoped to make this a more gradual thing but that clearly wasn’t going to happen now. Poor Thunderclash is too mortified to ask and pay for a third story which is Aid’s only defense in the face of his crew’s inquiries so, Nautica, Nightbeat, surprisingly Whirl, and a few others all pitch in for the next one.

Ambulon is rather unsympathetic when he retells what happened and all but straight up tells him he deserves the sudden pressure.First Aid stares at a blank datapad for a solid three hours before eventually giving up and heading to Swerve’s in hopes that giving his mind a break will clear his sudden and severe writer’s block. In his latest story, Lightningclash and Radius managed to get back in contact with their ship allowing them to reunite with their crew to then go to the next galaxy over to a good planet for refueling and resupplying. They were also checking a lead that might help them find the missing ally ship that had gone dark just months ago. Now he just didn’t know where to take the story. Lightningclash’s and Radius’s interactions had all been filled with the new question “what are we?” creating a lot of tension between them that is just fit to burst but how should it be done? First Aid just doesn’t know what he should do. Thankfully, before he can get too deep into his funk a very happy Drift plops down in the booth right across from him pulling him away from his thoughts.

“So, you’re the one that wrote the best thing I’ve read in the past thousand years,” Drift chuckles as he doctors his drink slowly.

“I’m glad you like it,” First Aid huffs, “It may be awhile before you get the next part though. I just can’t seem to get myself to write.”

“Well then,” Drift gives him a smirk that can only mean he has something mischievous in mind, “would you take a request then?”

First Aid mulls over it for a moment then remembering how many people are waiting for his story decides to throw caution to the wind yet again, “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“Well, you know, I think it’s about time that rodimus found out about these stories. So, I was thinking that it would be great that if when he reads them he got to a point where Rodimus reveals that he’s the next in line to declare the Primacy. I mean you haven’t built up a lot of lore for your stories but it’s clear it isn’t the same as our culture exactly. So, my idea is because he has to take on the Primacy he has all these responsibilities including not being able to take on anyone as his conjunx without like a ton of pomp and circumstance.”

“You mean like a really over-the-top mushy scene where Radius essentially goes ‘I love you Lightningclash but we can’t be together because I’m meant to take on the Primacy’ in the most sappy way possible,” First Aid mimics his parody Rodimus and begins to feel like he could work with this.

“Yes, that and Lightningclash as the respectable bot he is goes ‘I understand, Radius, your responsibilities come first but, I beg of you, let me be by your side always.’ just hamming it up all the way.”

“This,” First Aid leans against his interwoven servos with a wicked glint in his optics, “could work very well.”

When the message pings in Drift quickly gets up from meditating and rushes to Rodimus’s habsuite, datapad in hand looking all the world like the cybercat that got the energon. Rodimus is still in recharge after the indulgent night he had at Swerve’s and isn’t very happy when Drift roughly wakes him up to show him the datapad. Rodimus blinks slowly a few times at the datapad, not really seeing what’s on it.

“Drift, I know you’re trying to show me something but my processor hasn’t caught up with my body yet,” Rodimus lets out a yawn, “wanna just tell me what’s so important?”

“Somebody wrote a story about you!” Drift exclaims all to pleased with the situation.

Rodimus wakes up much more at that and begins to read over the stories while Drift watches in delighted anticipation. The faces the captain makes are extremely varied and rapid in their transitions. Drift bursts out laughing at a particularly disgusted expression Rodimus makes when he probably reaches the cave scene that he admirably pushes through to read the rest of it. Then he gets to the third chapter and groans once he gets to the big confession.

“What the hell is this?” Rodimus asks, his words muffled by the servos covering his face.

“It’s clearly other you with other Thunderclash having the time of your lives,” Drift teases and Rodimus gives him a look.

“This is the worst thing I’ve read, ever,” Rodimus grumbles, “You really woke me up for this? It’s not even worth the data storage.”

“Well I think it’s fun,” Drift says earning another look of disgust from his amica.

“This can’t continue like this.”

“Well what do you want to do about it then?”

“I don’t know!” Rodimus throws his servos in the air exasperated, “I wish this story just didn’t exist! That would be much better.”

“If you’re really so upset with it, why not just change it?” Drift offers calming Rodimus down somewhat.

“What do you mean?”

“This story was commissioned right? Well what if you commissioned this author to write the story how you want it to go?”

“It’s not worth the shanix,” Rodimus waves off the idea easily and slides off his berth to get ready for the day.

“I’ll pay for it then,” Drift shrugs when Rodimus shoots him a surprised look, “I think it would be fun.”

“How many people have read this again?”

The result is almost instant when First Aid sends off the next part of what is slowly becoming a series. Messages filter back with praise and statements of varying degrees of incredulousness. Now, as much as he’s enjoying all of this, he would have backed off had Thunderclash asked him to and even hesitated somewhat but the short message from the bot that started it all clears away his worry. Thunderclash sent him a very short but clear show of approval of his latest and most melodramatic installment. Ambulon groans once he gets to the big confession as Ratchet bends over steadying himself on a medical berth, immobilized by laughter. Seeing as how not much more work was going to get done he decides to go see how everyone is reacting to the story in person. He’s rewarded with a Nautica who’s absolutely glued to her datapad, an attentive Perceptor who gives a few good suggestions, and Tailgate along with Rewind listening to Chromedome give an excellent dramatic reading that Rewind is undoubtedly recording. The icing on the cake is when he stumbles on to the bridge to find a distraught Rodimus.

“Who the hell wrote this?!” Rodimus gestures widely to the datapad in his servo as though it just insulted him.

“I don’t know, Rodimus,” Megatron sighs, “but clearly it’s just in good fun. They don’t seem like they mean to slander you.”

“What do you mean? It’s clearly slander! They’ve paired me up with Thunderclash!” Rodimus shouts, fuming at the lack of sympathy.

“An excellent member of Autobot society,” Ultra Magnus adds helpfully without looking up from his work.

“They make me the damsel in distress!”

“Sometimes they make Thunderclash the damsel,” Megatron points out making Rodimus scoff.

“They make us frag in a cave!”

“I admit that might have been a bit much but they do an excellent job of portraying proper consent and communication between partners,” Ultra Magnus concedes.

Rodimus growls in frustration before storming off of the bridge undoubtedly to take it out on First Aid if unknowingly so. Sure enough, a little while later a message appears on his hud to his not-so-anonymous-anymore account from Rodimus describing just how much he hates the story. However, Aid is surprised to find that Rodimus, instead of demanding an end to the series, is paying for his own continuation of the story “to set the record straight” and First Aid obliges him. Of course, he doesn’t it’ll have the effect Rodimus desires but that’s mostly just because he knows he’s gonna spin it in another direction. Ah, the beauty of interpretation. Rodimus want him to write a continuation where Lightningclash messes up terribly so that Radius becomes enraged with him, so much so that he stops talking to Lightningclash with no hint of possibly letting up. First Aid decides he’ll humor Rodimus for now and leave Lightningclash and Radius’s issue unsolved at the end which just so happens to create a cliffhanger. First Aid leans back in his chair and looks at his handy work, satisfied with it, and sends it off before heading off to his berth to recharge. His intention is to feed Rodimus’s need for there to be conflict between the two characters to then have said characters to resolve it in the next chapter which will undoubtedly frustrate his captain but maybe also give him a hint. Besides, how was Lightningclash supposed to know that one of the reasons Radius left Cybertron to explore the stars was to escape the heavy weight of responsibility that the Primacy put on him? With a sigh and aching servos, First Aid drifts into recharge.

When First Aid heads to the medbay he can’t help but feel as though something’s off. He doesn’t have too much time to ponder it since Ambulon all but drags him into the medbay and locks the door behind them. Okay, that wasn’t a good sign. Ratchet’s giving him a look that tells him he’s definitely messed up.

“What did you do?!” Ambulon hisses regaining Aid’s attention.

“What? I don’t know. What’s happened?” First Aid is definitely starting to panic now.

“Your fans are in an uproar over the latest chapter of that terrible fanfiction of yours,” Ratchet informs him busying himself with prepping the medbay as though he was expecting a lot of injured bots to come flooding in at any moment.

“What? How bad?”

“Bad enough that Whirl started a bar fight with Cyclonus of all people over whether or not Lightningclash and Radius are going to ever get together. They’ve both been put into the brig and thankfully didn’t injure each other too badly but this is getting ridiculous.”

“I’ll say,” First Aid nods weakly, “That old romantic really let it get away from him. I bet he was defending Lightningclash’s and Radius’s durability all the way.”

“Yes, it’s all very sweet,” Ratchet gralfs, “What you need to do now is sit down and write so we can fix this mess before it gets any worse. I’ll even pay for it if I have to.”

“That won’t be necessary. This one’s on the house,” First Aid snags a datapad and begins writing like faster than he ever has before.

Apparently the impending doom via complete crew meltdown is a very good motivator seeing as he’s able to pump out a complete chapter in a record time of three hours. First Aid collapses on a berth completely drained from the frantic writing and hopes that it will clear everything up. Within those three hours, Nautica and Perceptor (for some reason) were brought in beaten up and ragged. Ratchet is still patching up the last of Perceptor’s abrasions when First Aid sends out the chapter making both patients leap for their datapads. Blissful calm settles over the medbay as the mechs devour the the story. Watching Ratchet read the story just as avidly as the rest of them, First Aid feels a little cheated for being guilted into making the latest chapter for free but he’ll get that old bastard back for it. He might even add in a weary old medic called “Hatchet” that’s hopelessly helm over pedes for a certain swordsmech called… He’ll think of a good name later.

“Yes!” Nautica cries out in glee and falls back on to the berth she’s taken residency on startling First Aid out of his half-awake state.

“I’m guessing that means you find the latest chapter acceptable?” First Aid says while still lying down.

“Very! Oh, just how Lightningclash takes Radius into his arms and pushes away any doubts that he sees him as a capable and beautiful mech. Radius struggling with himself as to whether to give in and abandon his responsibilities or remain the next prime but the Lightningclash insists he should be true to himself and not abandon his destiny! It’s perfect!”

“I quite agree,” Perceptor gives him a weary but emphatic nod.

“Good maybe this’ll settle things.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Ratchet scoffs, “You’ve just given them all another taste and still no resolution. At this rate you’ll be at this for a while.”

“That’s true,” Ambulon puts a servo on First Aid’s shoulder, “If you want this to end you have to conclude the story.”

“I can’t just yet,” First Aid puts a servo over Ambulon’s, “This is supposed to mediate Thunderclash’s inevitable confession to Rodimus.”

“That’s what all of this is about?!” Ratchet gapes at his downed colleague.

“I think that’s wonderful! Do you need any help?” Nautica leaps up energy fully restored.

“Perceptor, tell me you at least don’t approve of this,” Ratchet turns to the person that has become his only hope.

“Do you really want First Aid to stop?” Perceptor retorts making Ratchet fumble searching for the right words to defend himself but comes up empty.

First Aid turns to Nautica, “You know, a co-writer would actually help a lot. I don’t think I can write as fast as I need to on my own.”

“This is going to be great!” Nautica hops up and bounces with excitement.

Rodimus is fuming on the bridge now, very upset that his piece of the story had been subverted by the next chapter and has made his displeasure very well known to everyone in earshot. Thunderclash looks at him sadly, guilt weighing heavily in his spark as he looks at the damage his personal indulgence has caused. If the story has managed to do anything so far, it’s made Rodimus dislike him even more even without knowing he’s the one that commissioned the story. He makes a decision then and there that he’s going to do something to fix this mess that he’s made and hopefully get Rodimus to dislike him less.

Later on after workshopping the rest of the story, Nautica and First Aid decide having the outline all flushed out at least deserves a drink. First Aid is greeted at Swerve’s with praise and distress at how he almost severed such a beautiful, blossoming relationship. It’s clear now more than ever that he’s in it for the long haul. At the very least it seems this has alleviated some of the prevalent boredom that had been plaguing the ship. For a moment First Aid worries about what’s to come after all of this. This is, in all honesty, fun. Everyone is following the story with an intensity he didn’t know they possessed and that feeling is is so addictive that he almost doesn’t want it to end but he knows it has to. A blatant reminder of it all needing to come to a close is Thunderclash looking very sullen heading his way. He can feel Nautica tense up beside him when she spots their source material. First Aid tries and fails to steady himself knowing he can’t avoid this interaction while fearing what is to come of it. The large bot settles carefully in the seat across from them and folds his servos on the table. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.

“Hey Thunderclash!” Swerve breaks the tension, “Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, just mid-grade please,” whatever cool Thunderclash had is broken and the nervousness he’d been concealing earlier breaks through.

“You got it!”

After Swerve leaves to get Thunderclash’s drink he can’t seem to meet First Aid’s or Nautica’s optics.

“What do you need, ‘Clash?” First Aid tries to ease the situation.

“I, uh,” Thunderclash clears his intake, “I’d to um… Okay, so, Rodimus is clearly unhappy about this story. He seemed especially unhappy when the next piece after that fiasco was released. He seemed happier when our parodies were fighting. I had no idea that he disliked me that much.”

First Aid feels his spark ache a little at that last statement knowing all too well what Rodimus might have had to say about it.

“So, what do you need me to do?”

“I feel that this may not be the last issue that he forces our other selves to face. I think -indirectly- Rodimus showed something he’s very self-conscious of. It’s likely he will do so again.”

“You mean you think Rodimus was projecting his insecurities of technically never being a true prime on to Radius and he might do more requests that reveal things like that,” Nautica jumps in excitedly.

“Uh, that’s a bit harsher than I would put it but yes.”

“So,” First Aid puts a hand on Nautica’s shoulder to get her to sit back down again, “What do you want to do about that?”

“I’d like all of Lightningclash’s words to be my own from now on. I want to reassure Rodimus myself.”

First Aid’s spark grows warm at that. He just cannot handle how in love this poor mech is with “flaming ego,” Rodimus Prime out of everyone he could have given his spark to. Boy, if that didn’t just make him want to redouble his efforts.

“Radius!” the faint murmurs of conversation suddenly die down as Riptide shouts out in the middle of the bar while clasping Drift’s servo with a datapad in his other servo, “Please don’t misunderstand my formality as being a joke or in spite. I could never see you as anything other than a mech that deserves the world, the universe!”

“Just because you know I’m supposed to be prime now doesn’t mean you should treat me like some bauble on display,” Drift gives his best Rodimus impression but First Aid silently admits that his word choice probably wasn’t the most Rodimus-like, “I’m still Radius! I’m still the bot you called a friend! I’m still the bot that got overcharged and lost his credits to you on Hedonia! I’m still me!”

“I know you are!”

“Then why are you putting up this air of formality? Why are you treating me like a thing and not a person?”

“I can’t be with you, Radius,” Riptide recites in a hushed voice that has the audience of their impromptu performance gasping, “No matter how much I long to be with you, your position is too high for me to reach. I must steel my spark in the face of it. I must respect our traditions but I wish to remain useful to you. In order to do so I’ve had to put a barrier between myself and you. I am sorry. Please, don’t push me away.”

Drift A.K.A “Radius” looks down at Riptide A.K.A “Lightningclash” with a surprisingly convincing sad look in his optics.

“Then be my friend, Lightningclash,” “Radius” says, “because my spark won’t survive losing you.”

With the close, Riptide and Drift bow to the roaring crowd among which is even an amused Megatron. Rodimus sits in stunned silence as Drift wanders back to their booth where Ratchet is also dying of laughter. Rodimus looks at his amica in complete and utter betrayal but doesn’t even manage to dent Drift’s smugness. Out of everything First Aid had thought would come of his writing, miniature theater was not one of them. Across from him, Thunderclash looks over at Rodimus with longing, love, and hurt shining in perfect crimson. A message pings on First Aid’s hud and he knows he has work to do.

“I can’t believe you actually did that!” Rodimus shouts as he walks down the hall with Drift and Ratchet who are both laughing at his distress.

“What? Of course I did,” Drift nudges him gently, “I knew your reaction would be priceless.”

“I think he did a terrific job imitating you,” Ratchet adds making Rodimus scoff.

“See,” Drift loops his arm with Ratchet’s, “It’s all in good fun.”

“For everyone except me,” Rodimus grumbles.

“Details,” Ratchet shrugs.

“Well hopefully this time what I do will stick.”

“Hopefully,” Drift says wistfully obvious in his insincerity.

Nautica turns out to be First Aid’s saving grace as they continue writing the Epic of Lightningclash and Radius. They take turns typing what the other one says making the process much faster and before the day is out they have a chapter ready for editing. Thunderclash sits in and helps with word choice but for the most part just politely listens in quietly. First Aid is grateful to have him there as well because he really does help with dialogue, even making Radius sound more, well, Rodimus-y. God, this mech. The way he talks about Rodimus’s little quirks and the phrases he likes to use alone almost makes First Aid feel like he’s the one falling in love with Rodimus.

“You know, I always forget about his tendency to use Earth slang,” First Aid admits after sending off the chapter to Perceptor who had volunteered to edit the thing.

“His love for Earth and its people is incredibly endearing,” Thunderclash admits and looks into the distance, a sweet smile plastered on his face, “I’d never seen him so devoted to studying a culture before. He really has become a kind of expert on it.”

“How long have you had your eye on Rodimus?” Nautica bumps her elbow gently against Thunderclash.

“I-uh,” Thunderclash stutters and looks away, flustered.

“Don’t worry,” First Aid puts a servo on Thunderclash’s, “we’ll get him for you.”

Thunderclash smiles brightly but it quickly dims with sadness, “At this point, my hope is that I can at least salvage whatever happened for him to… detest me.”

“That’s not your fault!” Nautica slams her servos on the table startling both of them, “That’s just Rodimus being a jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true, Nautica,” Thunderclash puts up a consoling servo.

“I’m starting to think you’re right, Thunderclash. Something else is going on with him. Something he hasn’t let anyone see before,” First Aid hums and puts his helm in his servo contemplating their latest piece.

This new figure that Rodimus himself introduced into the story has been especially telling. This figure that can be none other than Optimus Prime’s doppelganger. So, Pinnamus Prime (so subtle) comes aboard the ship and pretty much takes control of everything to which the crew complies with completely because who would argue with a Prime? Lightningclash makes the mistake of agreeing with some of the current Prime’s criticisms causing tension to build yet again. When the pressure comes to a head, Radius gives a very deep confession that are the actual words of Rodimus. First Aid thinks that Rodimus didn’t realize how intense his offered bit of dialogue is, a confession of all the faults and missteps he knows are there that he feels are all people see when they look at him. He also talks about the sacrifices he’s made and the good he’s done but Pinnamus (Optimus) is just a walking reminder of what he’ll never be, Lightningclash (Thunderclash) is an example of what he could have become. It all struck First Aid a bit hard, making him realize that, perhaps, they have been a bit harsh on their captain. While childish at times and certainly impulsive, he cares about his crew and he is working on being better. Looking back on all they’ve been through, First Aid has to admit that Rodimus has actually been a rather good captain making quick decisions and being as fair as he can be. He hasn’t been a captain that would fit in during wartime but they’re not at war anymore. Oh, Primus, Rodimus had given up just as much as everyone else and then some to keep people safe, to keep the Autobots from falling. The fact that he can still smile, have fun, and then remind people they can still smile, that they still have hope is absolutely remarkable. Thunderclash is definitely starting to get to him.

The open ending they leave goes over about as well as First Aid expected which is to say not very well at all. They couldn’t think of any other way they could have done it. Thunderclash responded to Rodimus’s confession in his own words through Lightningclash then the chapter ends with him waiting for his response. The cliffhanger has everyone theorizing and arguing how it’s all going to end, the anticipation thick in the air. First Aid wades through the chaos dodging questions or giving ambiguous answers until he literally bumps into Rodimus. Before he can get too deep into his flurry of apologies a datapad is shoved into his servos. When he looks up at Rodimus he’s stunned to see his captain so serious, not angry, just serious. Without a single word, Rodimus leaves. After a moment of ogling the empty space Rodimus left behind, First Aid looks down at the proffered datapad and what he sees makes his optics flash in excitement. This would be the perfect end.

“I think this has gone on long enough,” Megatron says startling Drift who had been sharpening his swords.

“I’m sorry?”

“This entire back and forth with Rodimus and Thunderclash,” Megatron clarifies, “It needs to end.”

“I suppose we can’t tolerate too many more bar fights over something so trivial,” Drift concedes, “What do you have in mind.”

“I think Rodimus and Thunderclash need to confront each other on this matter.”

Drift looks up at ex-warlord skeptically and returns to sharpening his swords for a minute considering if what Megatron is suggesting is really a good idea. After dithering on it he turns back to the larger mech.

“Confront how?”

“I was quite inspired by your little performance the other day,” Megatron can’t hide his amusement when Drift coughs awkwardly, “I think they should read it together.”

“Oh yeah? How do you expect to get them to do that?” Drift raises an eye ridge.

“Everyone knows First Aid is the one that’s been writing this story and from what I can tell he seems quite eager to see this through. I’m sure I could convince him to help out.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with me?” Drift leans back looking up at Megatron.

“Your his amica, he spends time with you normally,” Megatron gestures nonchalantly, “Just make it so he’s in Swerve’s tomorrow evening.”

Drift looks him over for a moment but seemingly having made a decision just gives him a nod and goes back to his swords. Satisfied by this, Megatron leaves him be.

A very confused Thunderclash speeds along as he’s dragged down the hall to greet an equally baffled Nautica who gets the datapad First Aid had been given shoved into her servos. He then deposits Thunderclash into a chair, actually lifting the mech and seating him, surprising the poor mech with his hidden strength before sitting down to start writing. Nautica scans the datapad in record time and joins First Aid, newly invigorated. Thunderclash looks on with concern as they whisper over their datapad.

“Is everything alright?” Thunderclash breaks through the ominus haze.

First Aid and Nautica look back at him, smiling with wicked glints in theri optics.

“Perfect,” Nautica answers, her voice heavy with incredible, almost sadistic joy.

“How would you respond to something like, ‘Do I matter to you?’ from Rodimus?” First Aid asks, avoiding Thunderclash’s question.

“I’d tell him he means everything to me,” Thunderclash answers bashfully, “that… I’ll always be here for him.”

“Excellent, thank you,” with that First Aid goes back to writing with Nautica.

They continue like that for the remainder of the day, only asking Thunderclash seemingly random questions while not letting him read anything they’re writing. The pattern is eventually broken when the door panel slides open to reveal Megatron. For a moment they all just openly stare at each other until Megatron let’s himself in.

“I have a request,” Megatron breaks the silence and Nautica unabashedly gapes at him.

“Yeah?” First Aid’s voice breaks a little as he addresses the ex-warlord.

“This time when you release the story, only release it to Rodimus and Thunderclash at first,” Megatron says and sits down.

“Why?” Nautica crosses her arms, skeptical of Megatron’s plan.

“I think another reading of your story in Swerve’s is just what the crew needs,” Megatron says offhandedly, “except this time I think it should be done by your muses.”

“What?!” Thunderclash leaps up, “No, I can’t… Rodimus would surely… How would you even convince him to do that?”

“I don’t need to,” Megatron shrugs, “Drift will have him there tomorrow in the afternoon. The rest would have to be up to you.”

“Still-”

“I like that idea,” First Aid interrupts Thunderclash before he can go on a tirade.

“So do I,” Nautica smirks and pats Thunderclash on the shoulder, “It’s okay. You’re going to be great.”

Thunderclash looks helplessly around at the bots that seem very menacing now that plans for his grand performance were made.

Time flashes by and before he knew it, Thunderclash is being dragged once again by First Aid into Swerve’s where Rodimus sits drinking with Drift looking rather glum. Thunderclash’s spark aches as he sees his- as he sees Rodimus look so out of sorts because of him. In his moment of distraction he hadn’t First Aid bring him to the center of the bar and put a datpad in his servo. Looking back up from the datapad his tank drops as he sees Nautica quietly talking to Rodimus who nods at whatever she says to him and comes over to Thunderclash, arms crossed and body tensed while not meeting Thunderclash’s optics. Thunderclash’s intake goes dry and he can’t seem to just say something, anything. Then First Aid swoops in and gives Rodimus a datapad that he takes and scowls at it after reading the first few lines.

“Really?” Rodimus sighs, “This is what we’re doing?”

“So it would seem,” Thunderclash nods weakly.

“Might as well get this over with,” Rodimus rolls his optics, “I know Drift won’t let me back down from this.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Save it,” Rodimus bites out, then turns his attention to the datapad, “Lightningclash, I don’t believe you, I can’t believe you. What you’re saying… I don’t believe you.”

Thunderclash looks down for his lines and with more feeling than Rodimus’s deadpan recites, “How can I show you that I’m telling the truth? That I mean every word I say.”

“Nothing.”

“Why? Why are you so determined to believe that no one thinks you’re worthy? You’re going to make an excellent prime. You’re already a wonderful captain.”

“You keep saying that but you know it isn’t true!”

“It is true, all of it.”

“Then why does everyone else think I’m a failure? Why did Pinnamus Prime take command? Why did he shove his greatest enemy on me to watch like some glorified patrol officer? And I can’t even do that right! I made friends with him, hey, maybe even proved he’s not completely evil! That was a surprise for me too.”

“Prime sees too much of himself in you. So much so that he forgets that you are your own person and not a perfect reflection. Whatever he perceives as failure in you is nothing more than him projecting his own fears on you. I think he feels as though he has failed as a prime and doesn’t want you to be the same.”

Rodimus hesitates for a long moment, the quiet palpable as all the attendees looks on in awe at their performance.

“Even if that was true,” Rodimus takes a deep intake, “I’m still not as good as you.”

Thunderclash looks at Rodimus, his spark aching, wanting nothing more than to take him into his arms and push the rest of the universe away, the universe that let Rodimus believe this about himself.

“No,” Thunderclash decides to ditch the script, “You’re better. I could never do what you’ve done here on the Lost Light. You’ve given people that didn’t quite fit a home, a place where they can be themselves. I was able to lead people in the war, I’m a good soldier, a law-abiding citizen. When the war was over, that was it. I didn’t know what to do so I just did whatever came my way. I didn’t fit anymore. You know exactly what to do. Your amica found you a ship, you found the next big adventure. Along the way you’ve done so much good, helped so many people and shown them they don’t have to be soldiers anymore. That’s why I’m here, because of you. On this ship, piece by piece, I’ve been able to figure out who I am again.”

“You… really mean that,” Rodimus looks up at Thunderclash with wide optics.

“Of course I do, I love you,” Thunderclash drop the datapad and takes Rodimus’s servos in his own the other datapad having been already forgotten during Thunderclash’s speech, “I’ll follow you so long as you’ll lead me. I’ll go anywhere so long as you’ll have me. I’ll do anything to show you I really mean it when I say ‘I love you.’ Please, at least believe me when I say I don’t think you’re a failure.”

Rodimus doesn’t say anything, he just looks up at Thundeclash in complete disbelief, unable to process what just happened. Just when Thunderclash thinks he’s messed everything up and begins to pull away, he’s suddenly pulled down. He exclaims in surprise then Rodimus is kissing him and nothing else matters. He holds Rodimus close and sighs at the feeling of soft lip plates against his own, feeling dizzy from his surprise and amazement. He didn’t think it would happen but here Rodimus is: kissing him with servos on his helm and humming with content. A rumble erupts from his engines suddenly and embarrassingly making him pull away to look down at Rodimus apologetically due to his involuntary show of excitement. Rodimus just laughs and Thunderclash finally registers the deafening cheers that surround them. First Aid is giving him a thumbs up and Nautica looks on with a dreamy look in her optics.

“Thunderclash,” Rodimus pulls his focus from the crowd, “same.”

Now it’s Thunderclash’s turn to laugh as he pulls Rodimus in for hug, his Rodimus, his captain, his love.

First Aid looks on as Rodimus whispers something to Thunderclash that makes his optics go wide before pulling him along out of Swerve’s followed by whoops and wolf whistles. He shakes his helm and laughs, pleased by how much better it all went down than he was hoping. Ambulon bumps into his side affectionately catching his attention.

“Shame your big finally wasn’t actually read,” Ambulon teases.

“That was way better than anything I could have written and it was from the spark so all the better,” First Aid shrugs and sips his drink that he finally got from Swerve.

“Seems like they aren’t wasting anymore time.”

“No,” First Aid laughs, “They certainly aren’t. I don’t think we’ll see our captain anytime soon.”

Ambulon turns First Aid’s helm to look at him and leans up to press a chaste kiss to his lip plates before moving away only slightly.

“You know,” Ambulon says quietly, “I think you deserve a reward for getting those two idiots together.”

“Oh yeah?” First Aid plays along, “And what do you have in mind for my reward?”

“That new berth you bought for me still hasn’t been properly broken-in yet,” Ambulon says in a low tone and rubs a thumb along First Aid’s faceplate.

“We better take care of that,” First Aid leans in for another kiss.

“We better,” Ambulon agrees once they break apart.

#rodiclash #thunderrod #first aid #fanfiction #maccadam #tf #alyonian #rodimus #thunderclash

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