#silverfox au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

“Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It’s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower masterlist

Summary: Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her. (Thor)

Status: Finished

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Part 40

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44/Ending 1

Part 44/Ending 2

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #drabble series #silverfox au #silverfox!thor #mcu #marvel #avengers

[inkedaztec]

Getting notes together for NaNoWriMo and knowing I'm gonna try to write 50k words in a month is always so daunting.

Don't forget to send asks if you want to! If I'm able to I'll make a drabble/short. You can find what I write here

#bucky barnes x reader #ari levinson x reader #biker au #curtis x reader #nanowrimo #nanowriting #jefferson x reader #SilverFox Au #stucky x reader

[cloudofbutterflies92]

I just think about making in the Fallout AU silver fox!Ghost since there is a 16 age difference between them 😌 ( she is 28 and he has 44)

#silver fox Ghost for the presidential 😌 #x: children of the war #pairing: ghost & eden #oc: eden park #call of duty oc #cod oc #call of duty #original character #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #cod au #cod/fallout au #call of duty au #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #silverfox!ghost #cod fanfic

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brave New World: Part 12

A/N: Trigger warnings for mentions of misogyny, sexism towards women, forceful confinement

It was the sharp cry that pierced the dark wing that had initially woken you up. It was a sharp and startling sound that broke you from your slumber, drawing you upright in your bed with a sudden jolt.

Immediately, you reached for the sides of your bed and curled your fingers in the sheets as a method to ground yourself. To hold yourself to the thin and old mattress, one with springs that were poking through your equally thin nightgown.

You have recently been thrown into a new yet seemingly endless, hellish environment. The move from a private room to the shared room was necessary to make space for another influx of omegas who had been brought to the facility.

Through the thin walls of the shared women’s ward you were thrown into, it was glaringly obvious that some pregnant omegas, used as surrogates and breeding machines, had given birth early.

There was an urgency to give birth before the due date, a necessity to try to save both mother and child from a fate that was unfair for both of them, however, the child would fare much better than she would.

“Shut up! Shut up!” One of the other omegas on this crowded floor raised her voice harshly, caring neither for the other woman in another room nor the consequences that would come to the poor mother.

You reacted quickly and threw the blankets off you, stumbling and falling to your hand and knees due to the process of them administering more drugs to your body. As your knees and hands had banged against the creaky wood, another sharp cry had been heard through the walls of this place.

Your weariness had made you crawl, initially, and as you traversed your way to the next rows of beds, that same woman screamed again, thrashing against the holds that kept her in place.

You could see her struggling, the latest douse of serum altering her brain chemistry and inducing temporary psychosis. Despite her aggression toward the mother and child in the birthing unit, you wished the other omega luck on getting past this debilitation. You knew full well that if she hadn’t recovered from this aftereffect, she would have been thrown into one of the many pleasure houses and used as a toy.

If she hadn’t recovered, she would be discarded as if she was nothing more than a heat receptacle for alphas.

“Please, you have to be quite. Please, if you don’t they’ll come down on all of us!”

There was a steady thud of her back against the bed as she violently rocked herself back and forth, creating her own despotism hold of her world as she saw it. She was so far in her head and in her madness created by this last bout of the serum, she hadn’t realized that rocking back and forth as violently as she had would create more hell for you all.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She screamed three more times before another omega had risen to her feet, stumbling just as you had, and started toward the bed.

With the one omega woman behind dealt with, you felt secure enough to rise to your feet after reaching for one of the rails of the metal bed. Your hands gripped the end of the footboard, and you slowly pushed yourself to stand, your legs and feet aching to the point where it felt like they were burning.

Still, despite the aching in your bones, you pushed yourself further. You took every step cautiously, fearing that at any point one of the guards would come for you, for all of you, to deliver swift punishment. It wasn’t just you that would suffer for being out of bed, rather harsh consequences would come to every omega.

Even those that were sleeping.

“Shut that thing up!” there were hurried whispers in the room that followed an outburst, the direct order coming from the oldest omega in the room and focused on the woman in a mental break. “Shut her up, or we’ll all get it!”

You paid no mind to the order and focused on getting out of the room you were in, to head to the birthing ward. While you had known the door would be locked and access was denied to you and anyone else in the room, you also knew that one of the panels on the left-hand side of the wall was fabricated and easy to remove.

With the thinness of the walls and this falsified covering, you could easily slip from one room to another, and once you’d gotten to the other room you could help the omega who just gave birth. Or at least you could attempt to help, you could attempt to console her and her child, make an effort to extend what little kindness you could while being trapped here.

“I said shut her up!” The oldest omega yelled again, her voice carrying as you removed the panel and began to slip into the crawl space, keeping yourself as small as possible in order to make your way from one room to the other.

A shiver ran up your spine when your feet hit the other panel, the cold metal piercing your skin through the soles of your feet. The sensation was temporary, it had evaporated the moment you kicked the panel loose and managed to pull yourself through, coming into the other room.

You struggled to stand, a shake to your knees and thighs had almost made you tumble back to the floor, your hand already outstretched before you caught yourself.

The newborn was hastily wrapped in a thin blanket, squirming and still squawking with a great set of lungs that would have aided a career in entertainment further down their life. You had heard the omegas in the other room struggling to stop the maddened omega from raising too much of a complaint while this poor woman had just given birth.

Your approach was slow and calculated. You didn’t dare try to cause another sound to alert the betas and controlled alphas who ran this facility. You were already on their radar, already someone they wanted to study and watch, an omega who they had wanted to get rid of.

“Please,” she pleaded with you, simpering soft voice almost a wail, “they’ll take my baby. If they hear…”

The chirp of an alarm somewhere else in the facility prickled your skin, your stomach bubbling with unease and caution.

“Shh,” she rocked her child, her eyes wide and her lips parted with every attempt at quieting her child, “please…please-!”

“You’re a breeder,” you already knew she was and yet, it felt as if this reality was just hitting you, “they’re supposed to be coming for you but-”

“— I gave birth early, without medication. Without-”

Your heart nearly leapt from your chest as another bang had resounded somewhere in the building, a ghostly echo of something nefarious happening somewhere else. You stepped closer to her, hands shaking and your eyes growing wide in size, unable to truly think or react to what was going on around you.

Women, omegas, restrained to beds with what had once been softened cuffs but had now become rough, were lining the room from one end to the next. They were laying on nothing more than tufts of stuffing bound in thin canvas, a state that even cattle wouldn’t be permitted to lay on.

“They’ll take my baby, help me.” The omega was whimpering, and it wasn’t until now that you’d realized she was weakened by giving birth.

It hadn’t been until that moment that you’d even been aware that she was bleeding. The tang of copper hits your nose, mixing disgustingly with the smell of mildew and stale dust.

“You’re dying.” You crept closer and sank to your knees beside her bed, your hands curling against the cheap canvas bed. “You don’t have time.”

“Take my baby,” she turned to look at you, eyes losing their light and her breathing becoming shallow, “don’t let them have her. Don’t let her fall to the fate.”

“I can’t, don’t give her to me. I can’t take her. I can’t keep her, I can’t-” you stumbled over your words, fumbling as you tried to speak and make your case for not taking the child, for not taking the baby to be punished.

“Find someone, please promise me-” the babe was pushed into your arms, instincts leading you to cradle the child, and with a purpose thrust upon you, you rose to your feet and balanced tenderly.

“Thank you, Y/N. You,” the omega heaved, desperately fighting for breath, “you’re my family…my sister-”

Hours bled into days, and days had shifted into the next week.

While your heat had come and gone, while you had been marked and mated, you had never let go of the expectation that you would become pregnant. It was what you had been altered to do, to become a vessel for pups to boost the population that was faltering.

Whether it was this reality or the one you had escaped from, the result was the same. Your body and your DNA, your every genome, was geared toward fertility and pregnancy.

Even now, you could feel it.

Even now, only a week after you had been marked and mated, you knew your body was flush with life. You had narily placed your hand upon your belly, still unaffected by your growing child, and knew you were expecting.

If it hadn’t been the nesting you had done when you expressed your anxiety about being a mother, to the empathy of your mates, then this would have been every indication that it had happened.

Your stomach turned once, just once, and your sense of smell had increased with the changes in your body, and you knew. It was obvious, it was painstakingly clear that you were now doing what they had always intended you to do, only now it was by your choice.

Now, you have the decision to keep the child while in a safe and loving environment.

It’s the soft rapping on the door that audibly announces their presence on the other side of the door, but it’s hardly the first indicator that they were going to find you. With your new heightened senses, already increased from the serum before you were pregnant, you already knew.

It was their scent that carried, it was the sounds they made as they walked around and throughout the cabin. It was the soft mumbling of Bucky as he reiterated his annoyance and temporarily forgetting where he put things, and Steve whispering to himself as he sketched or painted.

You could hear it all; you could smell every shifting difference in the cabin.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve was the first to speak, the first to come and sit beside you.

You had negated to look at him immediately. Instead, you curled tighter on the outdoor chaise, tucking the blanket you took up and under your feet. You pressed yourself against the back of the lounger before you tucked your chin into your chest, and then you spoke.

“I’ve been thinking. A lot.” You spoke to them, addressing Steve verbally, and Bucky physically.

“Are you okay?” Steve was on your right, Bucky was on your left, both had been figuratively shielding you from a nonexistent threat. “Omega-“

“I’m pregnant.” Stagnant silence, unwavering quietude and the bubbling intensifying gleam of hopefulness and want had clashed in the middle, as if two beasts had represented the two sides of an emotional state of mind, with teeth and claws.

“Y/N,” Bucky crept in, a smile bursting on his face with eyes wide and vibrantly pulsing, “omega…this is everything we’ve ever wanted, this…”

Their happiness was unbounded. Their dreams of becoming fathers and having an omega was finally and wholly a completed reality. Puzzle pieces that hadn’t been set had finally clicked into place, with everything they’d wished and longed for becoming theirs.

There was a short time between you three wherein Bucky and Steve had let their raw emotions out to air, their happiness and loving statements settling upon you like the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze of summer.

It was further removing the corrupted chill you felt had been running through your veins, extinguishing the final clutch the organization, that wanted to make you a possession, had on you.

With Steve and Bucky, you were freed. Your baby was safe, your baby would grow up happy and healthy in a world that cherished it.

And you.

“I want this, I’ve decided. I want this baby, but…” you bit down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into your flesh while your eyes had become instructed by fat tears. “You may want to get that.”

The phone rang clear through your ears, a sharp yet melodic chime breaking the conversation, and you waited with bated breath as Steve walked to his phone and picked up the call, eyes locked on you.

“Cap,” Sam’s voice hit your ears, and you knew, “we need you back here.”

#silverfox!alpha!Stucky x omega!reader #alpha!silverfox!steve rogers x omega!reader #alpha!silverfox!steve rogers #alpha!silverfox!Stucky x omega!Reader #silverfox!alpha!Steve Rogers #alpha!silverfox!Bucky Barnes #silverfox!alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!Reader x silverfox!alpha!Steve Rogers #brave new World Series #brave new world #brave new world part 12 #brave new world masterlist #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #au #trigger warning #mysoginy trigger warning #sexism trigger warning

[agentmarcuspike]

"a minute from home"

biker!Joel x f!reader no outbreak au

cw: creepy date, reckless driving, tommy kinda cockblocks, soft joel, idk a/n: this was just a thought i had when i saw a silverfox with a motorbike and was too shy to ask if i could go for a ride with him, so i wrote this instead. kinda juvenile but you love it wordcount: 3k

The chill air of the evening brushes your skin as you push open the door from the restaurant. You’ve been swallowing the lump in your throat all evening, but the second you reach the parking lot outside you can’t hold back anymore, and a sob escapes your throat as you heave for air.

Through watery eyes, the city lights become a blurry haze. You get a glimpse of a gang of bikers outside the diner down the street as you look around to see if Colin has followed you outside. You don’t have time to assess before he grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Where are you going?” His voice is harsh, demanding. “I paid for your meal and you’re just gonna run off? You think I’m some kind of charity or something?” 

He stands too close, looking down at you, holding onto your arm hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“Everything alright here?” A dark voice suddenly booms from behind you. It’s one of the men from the small group of bikers. 

“Yeah, mind your business,” your date replies, pulling you towards him.

“Wasn’t talkin’ to you,” the leather clad man says as he steps towards you both. He’s looking at you, trying to meet your teary gaze as you whisper a “yes”. 

“What’s that?” He asks again, hands on his hips. He’s bigger than Colin, and while he could probably take him out, he could take you out too, and you’re not sure who you’d rather be alone with: your terrible date or a strange man with a motorcycle. 

But something about his presence, the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel safe. 

“I just wanna go home…” you muster in a low voice. 

“Alright. And is this guy gonna take you home?” 

Colin is still holding onto your arm, but his grip is loosening now. Both men are looking at you, waiting, while you’re looking at the ground, not able to form a single word even though your body is screaming resistance. 

But then you lift your gaze to what you hope is your rescuer, and you don’t have to say anything for him to read between the lines. The answer is “no”.

“Right,” the man says, and takes a step towards the other guy. He’s holding a hand out, carefully nudging at him. “Why don’t you run off, mister, leave the lady alone.” 

He refuses to move, but lets go of your arm and staggers a little as the biker’s hand pushes him. 

“She’s literally my date, dude. Why don’t you run off.” His voice is nowhere near as confident as when he was alone with you, and the pitch a little higher, but it might just be compared to the other’s heavy bass of a voice. 

“I don’t think so, man.” The biker moves seamlessly in between you and your date, and you’re suddenly hidden behind his broad back.

You look behind you, and see that the rest of the bikers are paying attention, and they all look ready to pounce if anything escalates. 

Colin takes a few steps backwards, trying to get a look at you, but failing as the broad man moves to block his view. When he still doesn’t back off, the broad man takes a step towards him, and Colin finally steps back.

“Do you even know this guy?!” 

Colin’s talking to you now, backing away. When he gets no response, you hear him huff, and his footsteps disappear. It’s a few more seconds before the man turns to face you. 

He takes a step back, giving you space, and you finally get a good look at his face.

Dark eyes are boring into you, seemingly looking for any signs of injury. His lips are plush for a man his age, the streaks of gray in his hair giving him away as at least 50, but the scars across his crooked nose and his temple could be making him look older. 

Salt and pepper stubble give him a rugged look, which paired with the leather jacket and biker boots would have been too much, but the concern in his eyes softens him up just enough to not be scary.

“You okay?” he asks, eyes still on yours. You nod in response.

“Gonna need some verbal confirmation, sweetheart.” 

You clear your throat, not realizing until now how dry your mouth is, and give him a weak “yes”. He nods back at you, looking back to his gang. 

“Alright,” he begins. “I understand you not wantin’ to go off with a strange man right now which you shouldn’t normally, but my friend Maria and her husband Tommy are right over there, and I’d like to ask Al at the diner to fix you up with something to drink.”

 The words still don’t come to you, and you just stare at him.

“Somethin’ sugary, for the shock.” And then he adds: “A nod’ll do here.”

And you do. You nod, and he gestures to the diner behind you, which you walk towards together. He makes sure to keep a distance, walking next to you instead of behind so you can see him in your periphery at all times. 

The woman, Maria, stretches a hand out to you, and you take it.

“You alright, honey?” You nod for what feels like the tenth time in a minute. She gives you a warm smile, and the mustachioed man, which must be her husband, smiles as well. 

Maria caresses your arm as he points to the man who saved you. “That’s Joel.”

Joel gives you an affirming nod as he leans over to the other man, whom Maria tells you is Tommy. He leans in and whispers something in his ear, and Tommy heads inside the diner.

The woman’s hand on your arm calms you down, and it seems she can sense it.

“You’re safe here, sweetie. You’re safe with us.” 

Your eyes meet hers and she's smiling warmly. She’s probably right, and you do feel safe, but you’re still a little shaken up. Colin had paid for your meal, but you’d been too uncomfortable the whole time to eat much, and your low blood sugar is starting to make you a little dizzy. 

As if on cue, Tommy emerges from the diner carrying a cup with a straw and a paper bag. He holds them out to you. You look at him quizzically, and reach your hands out to grab the items from him. He nods, and goes back to stand next to Joel, who is leaning on his motorbike, arms and ankles crossed in front of him.

You’re left clueless for a second, looking from the cup to the bag, before Maria takes the cup from you so you can open the bag. The bag is warm and greasy, and peering into it you smell the french fries before you see them. Suddenly nothing has ever seemed more appetizing than greasy deep fried potato wedges, and you shove a handful of them into your mouth at the same time, washing them down with a big gulp from the cup Maria hands back to you, which turns out to be filled with strawberry milkshake. 

The relief is immediate, and you take a deep breath as you let the much needed calories reach your system. When you look to your liberator to thank him, he’s looking down at his boots, kicking at a crack in the asphalt. So instead you look to Tommy, who is already looking at you, smiling the same warm smile as before, and you breathe out a “thanks” between eager gulps. He nods, and looks down just like the man next to him. 

Joel clears his throat, and you take it as your sign to get out of their hair. 

“Thank you,” you repeat, as you crumple the top of the paper bag in one hand and wipe the other on your skirt. “For this and…” you lift your drink and nod towards the parking lot where you were rescued earlier. “That.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, finally looking up for you, lifting the corners of his mouth slightly. “‘course.” 

Your eyes lock. For a moment it feels as if he’s looking straight through you, and you really believe that standing up for you was no big deal to him.

The silence is broken as Tommy claps his hands together. “So!” he says, looking between the two of you, landing on you, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get you home.”

You’re taken aback, you didn’t expect them to do you any more favors. “Oh that’s okay, I can get myself home! You guys have already done enough for me tonight.” 

“How?” Joel’s question is accusatory. 

“How what?”

“How’re you gettin’ yourself home?”

“The… bus?” You try, worried there’s a wrong answer. There is, and you just gave it.

He shakes his head. “No way.”

“Yeah,” Tommy adds. “We’ll take you home. We’re just riding around anyway, it’s no big deal.” He turns to Joel. “You’ve got Sarah’s helmet, right?” 

Joel gives a singular nod. “Shouldn't be walking alone this time a’night anyway,” he says, more to himself, as he fiddles with the extra helmet strapped to the backrest of his bike. 

As you watch his competent fingers loosen the strap and put down the extra pair of footrests, you catch yourself wondering if Sarah is the woman waiting for him at home, and why she isn’t riding with him. Maybe she’s too scared. Unlike you, because you’re not scared, you unconvincingly lie to yourself.

Pushing the nerves aside, another feeling interrupts your thoughts, and you can suddenly see Joel up against a wall with you, where the warmth of his electric touch sends shivers down your spine. His proficient fingers exploring every inch of you–

Shaking off the idea, you down the last of your milkshake, throw the cup into a nearby bin, and walk up to Joel and his big gray motorbike. 

Maria jumps effortlessly onto the back of Tommy’s, where he’s already sat. Joel holds out the helmet to you, and you grab it cautiously as he goes to put on his own. Sensing your insecurity, he puts it down again and takes yours back from you. He shoves it under his arm as he delicately brushes your hair behind your ears. 

“Got a hair tie or something?” he murmurs. “Gets windy.” 

You nod, taking the scrunchie off your wrist and pulling your hair together to put it into a ponytail, but Joel shakes his head, and indicates with his finger for you to turn around.

Gathering your hair in his hands, he divides it neatly into three sections and starts braiding them loosely together. His fingers in your hair makes the images return, and you catch yourself wishing he would pull it. But he’s careful and soft as he finishes, quickly caressing  the top of your head to smooth the hairs down, and he reaches his hand over your shoulder for you to place the hair tie in his palm. 

After securing the braid, he taps your shoulder to make you turn back to him, and he carefully pushes the helmet onto your head, making sure not to pinch your skin as he fastens the buckle under your chin. 

“Ever rode on one of these before?” he says as he squeezes your shoulder and turns to put his own helmet on. You shake your head. You’ve never really been interested in trying either, the only experience you have with motorbikes coming from rolling your eyes when someone revs one up and down your street too late at night. 

He reaches his hand out to you, and gently holds it while you throw your leg across the seat, helping your feet find the footrests. Then he seats himself in front of you, and he’s suddenly between your legs. “You just slide down a bit,” he urges you, and reaches behind him to softly guide your arms around his waist. “And hold on tight.”

“Where to?” Tommy yells from behind you. You tell him which part of town you live in, and Joel nods once before he kicks the kickstand and turns one of the handles causing the motorcycle to roar to life. It’s the same sound you’ve spent nights complaining about, but this time it’s different.

The roar of the motor makes the seat shake under you, and you automatically close your legs together around Joel. Feeling your thighs clench around his own, he stretches out a hand behind him again to give your knee a quick comforting squeeze.

The bike stutters slowly forwards, Joel using his feet to move it. It’s vibrating violently between your legs, and you suddenly become very aware of the jeans covering Joel’s hips rubbing against the skin of your inner thighs.

As you glide out on the road, the vibrations from the grumbling motor move through your body to your head, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a nicotine rush. Except it’s not nicotine, it’s adrenaline rushing through you where you’re sitting on a motorcycle with a stranger, in the middle of traffic with no seatbelts or doors or walls to protect you. Only Sarah’s helmet.

Your hands clench around the soft leather of Joel’s jacket, and you shut your eyes tightly. The visor protects your face from the wind, but you can still feel your eyes water, and you’re not sure why. When you turn your head to the side and finally look, you’re met with a blur. You must be going at least 75 miles per hour, not even on a highway, and the speed makes it impossible for your eyes to focus on anything you drive past.

Even though it’s summer, the wind is freezing at this speed, and the skin on your legs and hands feels frozen. For a second you regret not wearing tights or anything, but why would you, you’d shaved your legs today, and wasn’t exactly expecting this to happen.

You’re not sure why you trust this man, but you do, so you let yourself relax a little bit, trying to enjoy the feeling of flying down the road with him. Without loosening your grip around Joel’s waist, you lean back a little so you can see more.

To your surprise you’re almost home already, and you’re almost disappointed when the motorcycle slows down and turns onto your street. You let one of your hands move to your driver’s arm and tap it lightly to let him know he’s at the right house.

He swerves into your driveway, Tommy following close behind. Maria is off before you’ve even managed to move your hands from Joel’s waist. He pulls out the kickstand with his foot, and Maria grabs your hand when the bike tilts slightly. Joel gets off before you, and takes your other hand. You hadn’t realized how hard you’d been clenching every single muscle in your body, and you wobble as you manage to get off.

"Careful, honey," Joel murmurs quickly as he steadies you. His hand must be just as cold as yours, maybe colder, because it feels almost warm in yours. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, his eyes fixed on you, giving you the same look as earlier, looking for signs of damage.

Tommy walks up and puts a hand on Maria’s shoulder, and she grabs it casually.

"Alright," he almost yells, interrupting your little moment, and you both look up. "You feelin’ okay?"

You nod. You are. "Thank you," you say to all of them, Maria and Tommy nod and smile politely, and your eyes land on Joel, who is looking around. He sniffs quickly, running a hand over his stubble and clears his throat, before he meets your eyes. "Thank you," you repeat, and you think he understand you don’t just mean for getting you home.

"Yeah," he replies, shyly. "I’ll, uhm…" He gives Tommy a quick glance, who responds with taking Maria with him back to their bike. "I’ll walk you in. F’you want."

The silence is thick with expectation as you walk together the few steps to your front door, and your hands shake as you struggle to unlock it. Joel comes to the rescue for the third time that night, saving you from your date, getting you home, and now having to help you get into your own house. You give him a grateful but embarrassed smile as his turns the key in the lock without any struggle, but he just pushes the door open for you without any judgement.

Leaning on the doorway you try to decide on how to end the night, and it must be the adrenaline still in your veins that causes you to say what you say.

"Do you wanna… come inside? For a drink, or something?"

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and you swear you see a subtle smile before he speaks.

"I’m drivin’."

You almost roll your eyes at your own stupidity. Of course he’s driving, he just drove you home.

"Right," you grimace, and he chuckles back at you, which you only hear, because your eyes are fixed on your doormat, embarrassed.

"But, uhm…" he continues unexpectedly, and you look up at him.

"F’you ever need a ride…" He shrugs. "Or anythin’. You know where to find me."

You nod before your mind catches up. "Wait, where?"

"Al’s diner," he clarifies, another grin making a quick appearance on his face. "Right," you chuckle again. "The diner."

Something suddenly startles you both, and you realize it’s Tommy starting the motorbike. He revs the motor to get Joel’s attention, who turns to look, and takes a few steps backwards.

"Like I said," he says as he turns to leave. "If you need anything…"

You watch his broad form make his way back down your driveway towards the big motorcycle. Your stomach makes a jump as he straddles it, and right before he pulls his helmet down over his head you swear you see him wink at you.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou au #the last of us fanfiction #adrenaline junkie joel miller #tommy miller fanfiction #i mean he's in it..... #have no idea how to tag #my writing

[shadeysprings]

Beanie's Lucky 7 Sleepover

Come one, come all, and join in celebrating this beautiful milestone with me with a writing challenge! Woot! Woot!

But before we get the party started, here are a few guidelines to consider;

🪩 You must be 18+ to join. Minors, please stay away.

🪩 Main concept of the event is to write a fic that is limited to 7 paragraphs only—no more, no less. But you can go crazy with the number of words. There is also no limit to how many works you want submit.

🪩 This is open to all genres but dark is preferred.

🪩 All tropes/AUs are allowed EXCEPT the following: underage, incest, bestiality, water sports, and scat.

🪩 Fandoms/Characters you can write for: MARVEL, Game of Thrones, Samuel Drake, Tommy Miller, Sebastian Stan, Pedro Pascal, Chris Evans, and Tom Hiddleston Characters. No RPFs, please. Though if you're unsure of a character, you can ask me through my DMs.

🪩 Reader inserts only.

🪩 Entries must be new and original. But if you really want to make it part of an existing fic you have, make sure that it can stand alone.

🪩 A list of tropes will be provided to help you kickstart your story. It is not mandatory though for you to use them.

🪩 I reserve the right to not read or interact with your work if it makes me feel uncomfortable or failed to follow the rules. Your work must be tagged accordingly as well.

🪩 Please use the tag #Beanie's Lucky 7 Sleepover when posting your work and tag me in it. If I haven't reblogged your work after some time, shoot me a message.

🪩 There is no deadline for this sleepover but the start date will be on the 7th of August.

🪩 Any questions that you may have, my DMs are open.

Tropes:

Meet Cute

Fake Relationship

Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers

Soulmates

Only one bed

Auction

Roommates

FWB

Sugar Daddy

Boss/Employee Relationship

Professor/Student Relationship

DILF / Silverfox

Ex-Lovers

NPT : @mochie85 @lokiandbuckysdoll @sarahscribbles @imyourbratzdoll @targaryenvampireslayer @flordeamatista @navybrat817 @sgt-seabass @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @honeystevie @iraot @ironlady1993 @slyyywriting @cockslutpadalecki @buckets-and-trees @loopsisloops @fictive-sl0th @cocoamoonmalfoy @late-to-the-party-81

#Beanie's Lucky 7 Sleepover #writing challenge

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

Another month, another rec list! Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 💐

Bucky Barnes ✨

Lay me down by @navybrat817

Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader

Pinot noir by @cryptidcasanova

Detective!Bucky x Reader

Awake my soul by @foreverindreamlandd

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Bring your wife to work day by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Bucky x Reader 'Sugar'

Hunger by @navybrat817

Bucky Barnes x female reader

Tension by @bucky-barnes-diaries

CollegeProfessor!Bucky x Student!Female!Reader

What's cookin' good lookin' by @slyyywriting

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Shallow(s) by @late-to-the-party-81

Beach Lifeguard Ari x Beach Lifeguard Reader

Sleepy hollow by @onsunnyside

Stalker!Ari Levinson x reader (College AU)

Feels so right by @geminixevans-stan

Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Not the type by @quinnsbower

eddie munson x fem!reader

Just a reminder by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Red light at the bowling alley by @chaseadrian

eddie munson x f!reader

Start me up by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader (Mechanic AU)

Dealers choice by @ohcaptains

eddie munson x female! reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Overstimulation by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Steve Rogers x Agent!Reader

Ethereal by @oh-my-damn

TWS!Steve Rogers x neighbor!reader

The unexpected valentine by @cockslutpadalecki

SilverFox!CEO!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Andy Barber ✨

Preliminary by @navybrat817

Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader

Sweet heartache by @oh-my-damn

DA!Andy Barber x Intern!Reader

Steve Harrington ✨

It's nights like these by @supernovafics

steve harrington x fem!reader

Multiple characters ✨

Private party by @late-to-the-party-81

Steve x Reader (established), Bucky x Reader x Sam

The perfect life by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Dark!Steve x You x Dark!Bucky

A price to pay by @navybrat817

Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

#february fic recs #fic rec #bucky barnes #eddie munson #ari levinson #steve rogers #andy barber #steve harrington #sm wilson #ransom drysdale

[fandomfluffandfuck]

i feel like i havent been reading enough omegaverse lately so ive been imagining an au of your au where alpha silverfox!steve and younger beta!bucky doms this big beefy alpha and makes him cry 🥴 just the thought of steve's knot in a cockring and being told not to cum gives me the vapors whew!!! being told to cum on command instead, knowing how painful that would be without a hole to unload in... *coughs* uh yeah so that's my Thot of the day :)

I feel you! I haven't been reading enough fanfiction, in general, but especially not enough omegaverse lately.

I absolutely have to recommend to you, if you haven't read it, this series on AO3:

"Breaking Tradition" by AndreaDTX

It's literally what you're describing minus the age difference (sadly).

God.

I really, really would love to read (or write, when I have time, lmao) something where Steve is this big, hulking alpha who's aging, going grey, and he just fucking aches to get out of the typical rhythm of relationships so he seeks out a younger partner, knowing there's less stigma against changing power dynamics with younger omegas. At first, it's just overwhelmingly good sex but we know Steve and Bucky, of course, they fall in love. There's too much chemistry.

Also, I would love to add this layer of shame or embarrassment to Alpha Steve. He's always had needs for his omega to be pushier, but he's never known how to voice it--it's so, so untraditional and unexpected--so it's easier to just get it from a stranger. Yet... this stranger, this bossy, brunette omega, is so fucking alluring and he takes power so well, Steve has to keep coming back to him 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Jesus Christ, thank you for that thought, though 🥴🥴

#asks #fic rec #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #omegaverse #alpha steve #omega bucky

[peachypede]

All this silverfox Ingo and Emmet....what about silverfox! ocs??

So here's an au where Pecha is late thirties, almost forty. Her life went differently that it did in this au. Instead of making her own brand, she worked for her Tita at the restruant for a while before finding her passion as a seamstress. The twins are often her clients, and Ingo has started to gain a crush on her (much to Pecha's obliviousness).

And here's an older ref of her I made:

#oc pecha #old fashion love shipping || Ingo x Pecha #older pecha au #my favorite part of older pecha is the worry lines #very becoming

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

The noise of a lawnmower welcomes you out into the vibrant summer day. Your mother is already on the porch, sat on the patio bench. You can tell she’s primped herself up just a little bit. You put the jug of lemonade on the wicker table and stand by the end of the long eat. 

“A kind man,” your mother muses beneath the racket of the mower, “about time we got someone decent ‘round here. You know,” she furrows her brow viciously, “those bitches from the cul-de-sac never liked your nana. Hate us even more. Stepford hags.” 

You nod and peek over at Steve as he pushes the mower in a straight line. The grass falls to the blade and leaves thick clippings in rows. You twiddle your fingers as you notice the shine of sweat on the man’s forehead and forearms. His act of kindness feels more like pity. 

“Don’t be stupid, girl, go grab some cups,” your mother snipes and draws your attention back to the porch. “That man’s going to think I raised a moron.” 

You retreat back into the house. For as pleasant as she was to your new neighbour, it has done little for her mood. Or maybe it’s just you. 

You grab two of the rippled plastic cups from the cupboard and head back down the hall. You stop as you reflection passes you in the mirror. You turn to face it. You frown. You’re nothing special to look at but you don’t do much to help that. You wonder if you put on some mascara or wore something nicer if you might look anything close to pretty. 

You shrug off the fleeting insecurity. It’s not important. Your mother’s sick and your little uncertainties don’t mean anything. You push through the screen door and clack the cups down. As you do, the mower quiets and you peer over. The grass is trimmed neatly as Steve stands close to the steps, wiping his forehead as his cheeks burn rosy form the heat. 

“Whew, think I’ll try some of that lemonade,” he climbs the steps, “hot one today.” 

As he climbs the last step and he drags his hands down his tee shirt. His grey blonde hair droops forward and he tries to shake it out of his face. He tugs at the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, revealing a sweat-dampened undershirt. 

“Don’t mind me,” he chuckles as he uses the outer layer to mop his face and neck, “think I overdressed.” 

“Get him some lemonade,” your mother hisses and points to the jug. “Steve, was it? What brings you to Heron Meadows?” 

You unstack one cup from the other and fill both. You set the pitcher back down and step back on your heel, folding your hands together as you fade into the background. You’re peripheral to your mother. You only exist when she needs you. 

“Well, settling down, I think,” he smiles and reaches for a cup. He raises it and stops it just in front of his chest. He carefully gestures at you with it, “thanks.” 

Your eyes round and you glance away, “welcome.” 

“Settling down?” Your mother echoes coyly. 

“I know, I’m a bit late to the game. Had to get out of the city. Maybe I outgrew it,” he sighs, “and you two? Where’s your husband hanging out?” 

You mother laughs and crosses one leg over the other, not easily as she struggles to still the shake in her foot, “long gone. He never saw this place.” 

“Ah, hope I didn’t hit a sore spot,” Steve’s cheek dimples before he sips from the glass. 

“Mm, don’t feel much for the deadbeat,” your mother tisks, “what about you? Settling down? Is your wife coming with the couch?” 

“Ah, yeah,” he reaches over to plant his hand against the pillar that connects to the rail. He leans on it and gulps again. He swallows before he continues, his eyes meeting yours for the split second you dare to look up, “missed that step but the house will keep me busy until I figure that out.” 

“Oh don’t you worry, that little club will keep you busy,” your mother scoffs, “make sure ya keep your picket fence nice and whitewashed.” 

Steve gives a curious furrow of his brow. You mother sniffs as her little quip hangs in the air. 

“HOA,” you put in quietly. 

“Mm, I bought out of that,” he says. “Outdated if you ask me. I don’t need them telling me what colour to paint my door.” 

“Bought out?” Your mother grumbles. 

“I didn’t relish the extra lawyer fees but worth it,” Steve explains before he empties the cup and puts it back down, “thanks, that was great. Uh, guess I should get started on the back.” 

You stand dumbly as you mother agrees with a grumble. An awkward silence thickens around you and she snaps in your direction with her fingers, “take him out back, honey.” 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you clamour forward as if awoken from a slumber. “Just...” you near Steve and step around him to scurry down the stairs. “this way.” 

He leaves his tee shirt draped over the railing and turns to follow. He looms like a shadow behind you and as you stop to reach over the top of the gate and unlock it, you scratch around blindly. He steps closer and hooks his arm over yours. The smell of his sweat fills your nose. 

“Got it,” he says as he easily unlatches the clasp and the gate slants inward. 

You push through, quickly making distance from him as he trails you into the backyard. It’s even worse than the front. You grab the broken mower from where you left it and drag it towards the garage. 

“Great, I’ll go grab the mower,” he declares and leaves you to shove your way awkwardly into the side door of the garage. You push the rusted metal inside and the door snaps shut at your back as you emerge back into the sunlight. 

Steve pushes through his nice electric mower and you shy away. It’s got to be close to new and no doubt expensive. You trod through the tall grass and as you pass him, his arm brushes yours. 

“I could do the eaves too,” he stops beside you. “Get some of these weeds cut too.” 

“No thanks,” 

“I don’t mind,” he insists. 

“I can manage.” 

“You can. Probably a lot. Your mom...” he suggests, letting his words hang. “She sick?” 

You glance at his chest, the white fabric taught to his muscles above his thick stomach. You nod. 

“You take care of her?” He prompts. 

“Do my best,” you mutter and traipse on, “thanks.” 

“Right, uh,” he calls after you, “well, if you change your mind or think of anything, you can always ask.” 

You keep on. He feels bad for you. Just like everyone else. You’ve heard Marge and Lucy on their daily power walk; poor thing, going nowhere, sad... 

You go back out front, leaving the gate open. You go to grab the broom from the porch as your mother remains as she was. Her hand trembles on her thigh. 

“You know, should clean up around here,” she says, “invite him for dinner as thank you. Maybe tomorrow.” 

You take the broom and stop at the bottom of the steps, “maybe tomorrow,” you agree. 

“He’s a nice man. Could use one of those,” she smirks, “never had one of those. Handsome to boot.” 

It’s strange. You haven’t seen your mother smile since your grandma was around and even then, it wasn’t like this. The way she’s talking is almost ravenous. Like she’s slathering over a pork chop still on the grill. 

“Just gonna sweep up the trimmings,” you explain as you drag the broom down the walk. 

“Ugh, do whatever, you simple girl,” she chides. “When you’re done, you start on that kitchen. Those damn dishes have been sitting there all day.” 

“Yes mother,” you say to the broomstick as you begin to sweep. 

The sun beams relentlessly down, pouring onto you like fire. When you’re done, you return the broom to its place against the siding of the house and let yourself inside. Your mother hums as she watches the birds. You should be happy to see her outside, to see her in a better mood, but you’re too uneasy with the presence of that man. You know his name but it doesn’t make him any less a stranger. 

You fill the sink and add soap. You plunge a stack of plates into the water and stare out the small window above. You can see the side of the next house. It isn’t much too look at but sometimes a squirrel will critter along the wooden fence top. 

As you zone out, hands working mindlessly on scrubbing and dousing, a shift in the foggy colours of your vision brings your eyes into focus. You blink as Steve waves from outside. He rolls the mower up to the gate and smiles at you. You wince, jolted by the reminder of him. You offer a flutter of your soapy fingers. 

He stops and stares at you through the window. You blink, uncertain what to do. He’s just looking at you. He winks and you wince at the gesture. He slaps his hand back down on the mower and pushes it through to the front yard. That was odd. 

Or maybe you’re just awkward. 

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #the girl next door #series #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

All in the Family Masterlist

Summary: You find yourself entangled in a web of older men. (College AU, Loki, Victor Shade/Vision, Heimdall, Loki’s Son OC)

Status: In Progress

All in the Family

Stuck in the Middle

Feel it in the Air

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #victor shade #vision #dark!vision #dark vision #silverfox au #heimdall #dark heimdall #dark!heimdall #au #mcu #marvel #avengers

[solittles]

Scrambles to your ask box BRIDGLAR. FOR THE SHIP MEME

bridglar is the opposite of a fucked up ship. theyre perfect, amazing gorgeous. married. invented love. love them to bits ! i love em in canon, and in modern aus!! i love henry peglar and his disabled dilf hunting ass who just wants a silverfox to call him baby boy. i love john bridgens and his anxiety about how henry is wasting his youth on him, while in reality, john is exactly the person henry wants to have very kinky sex with, and also get married to and live happily ever after with

#asks

[prpfs]

🫀 Hi! 24 F looking for a Steddie RP, Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson from Stranger things. I don't mind playing as either of them.

The idea is completely inspired by valentines910 on twitter about their silverfox! Steve AU.

Eddie in his late 20s/early 30s is a baby dom that ends up knowing professional switch Steve and it starts there.

Obviously, for this RP NSFW and BDSM themes are included, but I'd also like to develop a plot around it all. Obviously be aware of the kinda big age gap if you don't like it, but they're still both adults.

Please be +20 years old. I always RP on discord and I'd like to have at least two paragraphs or around 200 words. I write in third person and past.

And I think that's all! Interact with the post and I'll contact you!

like if you're interested and op will reach out

#stranger things rp #stranger things roleplay #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #1x1 rp #dead dove #20+ rp

[wardenswateringhole]

Posting this before i pass out and forget tomorrow. I'm about to start making my own notebooks~ I'm excited~

Gonna be working on Shadowed Cross AU content and refining my new style more. I will be asking for ya'll's opinion on something related to the Date with Silverfox Emmet. Keep your eyes peeled for that.

#wardenspeaks #My meds are working better.

[thatcheeseycandle]

//tw for mentions of war, death, breakdowns, fighting, hurt, and Buckle up Buttercup ITS TIME FOR THE FIRST FANFICTION I'LL EVER BE POSTING

Now before reading I'd like to point out the possibility of the characters here being somewhat out-of-character since each bit was written in 10 minutes (IT WAS FOR A SPRINTING BOT DISCORD SESSION OKAY- But I did clean it up a bit by redoing some of the bits) and then to add on I used a wheel to pick what I should do

And the wheel chose "do a story where a side character actually shows emotion for once" so uh would explain why Spencer might might be like half out-of-character

To add on this is basically my take on the whole.. "Irl History affects the plot" thing (also being set in my Candle-lit Railways AU which also explains the humanoid descriptions) so yup, PREPARE FOR WAR-

-----------------

As the candle dimmed down it's light, The shed doors would close with silence filling the air, simply another night to rest then waste all that energy again.

Spencer would let out an exhausted sigh. He knew how devastated Mallard would be once he heard the news  about Gadwall, the more innocent one among the Gresleys, always naive yet a charming one in his own unique way.

Unique enough to get Great Northern, of all people, to soften up to him. It still surprised Spencer til' this moment that he got North to become soft. Though that uniqueness left a gap in reality, a horrible reality, that's now began a world war.

Which was the same exact thing that led to Gadwall's demise. The demise of the only light that was left in darkness. They killed an innocent engine just because of humanity's selfishness.

They killed his brother. His youngest brother.

The Shed doors would open, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts as he looked to who was near the doors. He would see it to be Sir Nigel, in his humanoid form.

He would sigh in relief, maybe Sir Nigel could keep him from his night terrors for just this night. Just for an hour at least.

Sir Nigel would look up to Spencer, sitting on a stool next to him. Simply looking out the shed into the moonlight knowing that Spencer needed some company.

"I miss him too."

Sir Nigel suddenly said in a mournful voice.

"I-.. I miss him more than.. More than anything, honestly."

Spencer replied back, depressingly.

As the two sat there, simply tranquil together, they would mourn in silence. For their brother. Because nothing was louder than their younger brother's joyous aura.

That aura was gone for good.

———

He was in the rain, running as fast as he could towards Top sheds. He knew his crew would say something about Gadwall's death. He can't be held back by his engine form, not now. Even if he wasn't steaming he was able to shift into his humanoid form.

Spencer’s fire kept burning and burning inside his chest as he ran through the rain. Running like someone who was rollerblading, technically he was skating with his wheels.

But he kept running and running. He didn't care if his crew would scold him, he wouldn't care if Sir Nigel Gresley himself would come to scold him after. He needed to save what was left of Mallard's innocence, what was left of his hope.

With World War II currently escalating into more madness, Spencer had to hold onto each bit of hope he could keep or at least save. He had to hold onto Mallard's innocence more, even just for a week or a day he had to hold onto it a little bit longer.

As he got to top sheds, he already felt the atmosphere shift as he caught a glimpse of Quicksilver and Mercury's mournful faces. Silverfox was in Polly's arms, sobbing, grieving as the news sunk into her mind. He knew that his crew told them as well, he already knew by the shift, by the faces.

He would bust open the doors to Mallard's shed, his black silver-lined coat falling to the floor, but he wouldn't bother to pick it up as he saw Mallard's fallen face. Spencer saw the tears slip down Mallard's cheeks more quicker than water pouring into an engine's boiler. It was too late.

Mallard had the news sunken into his mind and Spencer knew that well enough to not take one more step near Mallard, afraid that he'd lose his mind more than he looks like he already has.

He simply stood there, letting Mallard grieve as his crew comforted the glossed-black locomotive as he grieved for his younger sibling. Spencer would take off his hat, in respect of Mallard currently breaking down.

Spencer didn't even need to look back to know that the others were watching Mallard slowly breakdown, he already could vision how Merlin would react to Mallard breaking down this much.

The thoughts inside Spencer's mind would inflict more anxiety through his veins as his breathe became shaky and his chest heavy, though wouldn't even flinch a single bit out of respect for Mallard.

It was a known rule that if you show weakness around someone who's in terrible condition physically or/and mentally, it is a sign of selfishness slipping through your mind.

And Spencer held that rule more higher than his pride, it was the only rule that really stuck to him underneath all his pride and “glory” for some reason. He didn't know that reason.

But he does know that, as of now, he needs to show his respect towards Mallard in his time of grief.

———

The rain would be pouring heavily atop of Top Sheds as the engines rested in their assigned sheds, some of them shivering from the cold while the rest would be sleeping tired of the workload for today. Though some engines wouldn't be either of those.

Silver Fox and Pretty Polly were the only ones awake at the time, Donovan was doing his last runs of the night so technically he counted as awake too. The two would sit in their sheds, which were next to each other. Polly would be looking up at the sky, not trying to guess any constellations, simply grieving silently.

Silver Fox on the other hand was trying to hold back tears from what's happened today, it was devastating seeing Silver King having to get hurt, even worse that Quick Silver started to lash out. She just wanted all this to stop.

She wanted everything to go back to normal, she didn't want to be apart of this war, even if it meant her being in her shed for decades. She never wanted to face all this. She thought frustratingly to herself.

She wouldn't realize until now that she started to have warm tears flow down her eyes onto her cheeks, dripping onto the ground, which would be heard due to the silence that hung over Top sheds.

As she blinked away her tears she would look over to Pretty Polly, who wasn't backed in her shed not caring for the cold, she simply rested outside as her gaze was focused at the sky above.

Silver fox would watch her silently, slowly going forward to get a better glimpse as her. Though Polly would sense her warm aura come near her.

“What do you think of the stars, my dear Fox?”

Polly asked Fox, in a soothing tranquil tone, Silver Fox would flinch a bit at Polly calling out to her, though would go forward a bit going next to Polly. As she got closer she would see tears flowing from Polly's eyes as well, shining in the moonlight as she gazed at the sky above them.

Silver Fox would be surprised at this. Though she couldn't really blame Polly, she thought to herself. With the war going on, and all the deaths that's been happening she must've felt the warmth of each soul disappear by the days passing by, Silver Fox thought as she continued her train of thought.

Finally she'd gaze up to the dark-royal blue sky, with the stars shining like the sparks of fire from an engine's firebox, a new star popping up by a few minutes. Each group of stars forming a shape, a symbol, a constellation.

It's.. It's gorgeous. Silver Fox thought through her grief. Though it didn't feel like the right words to describe the sky somehow, the view felt more than gorgeous. It felt serene yet overwhelming with all the stars in the sky.

Though she'd finally come up with a phrase, that almost, perfectly describes the feelings she has about the sky.

“It makes me feel at home, Ms Polly.”

————————————

YKNOW REREADING THAT IT MADE ME REMEMBER TOO MANY HEADCANONS I HAD FOR THE CANDLE-LIT RAILWAYS AU BEHAHDBXBX BUT YUP IT WAS NICE TO REWRITE THIS PIECE TO IT'S (near) POTENTIAL

SO YUP I'LL JUST POST ANOTHER FANFIC RIGHT WHEN MY BRAIN GETS AN IDEA-

#cheesyversial rants #ttte fanfic #ttte young iron au (??) #technically this is inspired by how the war played out in YIAU but just with my designs BUT YEAH CREDITS TO YIAU- #candlelit storytime #cheesey writes