#also because i desperately need //someone// to remember rung

[transingthoseformers]

I have some ideas for the Bad Ending last night here

Considering an idea where drift contemplates his history as a sex worker and ultimately has more positive experiences and associations with it than not, and in the end we see this is the BE and he's seriously contemplating going back into the job, after all he made a promise he wouldn't go back to mercenary work

Not because he needs the money, but because he needs something to do after Ratchet's funeral and Rodimus has more or less weaned off associating with the rest of the "rod squad" since Megatron's verdict, Drift worries about Rodimus but they'll meet again one day in a better context, perhaps in an alcohol-free club that doesn't serve intoxicating drinks but good music and all sorts of energon.

I don't think he changes his name back to Deadlock, but he might choose an entirely different and new name (WindDrift? Dancer? Wind dancer? Maybe it's an alias for the job? I like Dancer as his job name but not as his name-name)

Rodimus primarily starts going by Roddie

Whirl, Cyclonus, and Tailgate are in a pretty good relationship with two kids Lug and Anode are raising one with another on the way, with them working part time at a museum and Anode babysitting on occasion.

Maybe Swerve owns the club with an oc or two ... Chromedome via Rewind remembers Rung.

All in all a very bittersweet glimpse into the After.

#take this as seriously as you want #valveplug #sort of #i saw ~somewhere~ the idea of rodimus being an alcoholic at some point so i took that and decided to give him AA instead #just thinking about what good can occur after the bad ending #where's Brainstorm you might ask? probably dead #last i checked in the lash issue he was in a similar situation as Thunderclash? tethered to another briefcase keeping him alive? #and i imagine this is like a while after the ending too #several years after Ratchet's funeral we were shown #though I came up with it riiight before signing off for ghe #*the night so take it as you want #dratchet #cywhirlgate #luganode #cdrw #Chromedome vowed to remember. for rewind. #also because i desperately need //someone// to remember rung #even if it's just some old footage of a curious orange bot Chromedome doesn't quite recognize but also doesn't NOT recognize him #riot rambles

[revelisms]

Throwing down a big ramble of Silco and Vander headcanons, because I've had these two on my mind Too Much recently (and just need somewhere to braindump, while I figure out how to write them).

cw: abandonment issues, violent/complicated relationships, repression, dysfunctional family histories.

While it's likely canon(? side-eyes our TBD S2 flashbacks) that these two knew each other as boys and worked together for a long time, I really like the idea that they were pulled together by chance.

Maybe they worked on complete opposite sides of the Fissures—Silco working the mines, Vander working the fisheries/refineries/metalworks, etc. Carting off raw materials to various industrial crews was part of Silco's weekly work (and how he'd been able to build connections across the working circles of the city; climbed the rungs and twisted the ears of higher leaders, later on)—and Vander's crew was one of them.

Maybe they caught each others' eyes—or hated each other, at first (or Silco had an immediate, heavily-bottled crush). Countless handoffs turned into messy introductions, into Come down to the Drum, Swiftlet—we'll get'ya sorted up!, into them holing up together in the off-hours with other workers in their ratty pubs, realizing how uncannily much they had in common, for all their surface-level opposites.

Vander takes him under his wing; another stray to the litter. (It's a penchant they both have, perhaps, in their own ways.) He's older than him. Stronger, louder, warmer. A middle child in a big family, rife with dysfunction, broiling over with anger. He's someone who knows how to make his voice heard in the mess, and people flock to him, in ways they never did to Silco. They fear and respect him, in turns. He has a reputation—and it weighs heavy as a blade. He's never afraid to flash it, when needed (or just when he needs to send some brazen fools running).

Silco's jealous of it all, naturally—and more than a little admiring. He believes in him. Feels like he can trust him; like Vander would do anything for the two of them, for their cause, their people—just like he would, for them.

Quietly, his admiration bleeds into something else. An obsession, a hunger, a selfish and desperate sort of love. He was always an outcast, a dirty little thing, to his own kin and anyone on the streets. Never had a father, to appraise him. Never had anyone to call his own, who saw him as worthwhile; who picked him up from the sludge and kept him on his feet: made him feel like he could be feared and respected, too. He's been surviving since he was old enough to haul a cart of coal, and his youth was stripped from him. Always an ancient thing in a weak little body, gnawing at the seams for blood.

I think Vander was deep-seated in denial. An angry, bitter, violent man, with a deceptive charisma casing it all. Their relationship was inherently destructive (and with a flavor of Fight Club repression): they fought with fists as much as words. Sometimes, it skirted the lines, got too close—roughhousing bleeding towards something Silco craved, that Vander feared: that they nearly had, tumbled against walls with fists at their necks and their breath tangled.

And maybe, once or twice (or countless), they slipped over those lines; got too drunk to remember. Convenient thing, that, for Vander to sit in his denial; but Silco never forgot, never played it off. He ached, and he resented. Vander called him a brother in private, and a partner in public, and Silco simmered at it—A brother? Is that all I am, to you? All you see us as?—and, eventually, accepted it; that it was more important to have him, in whatever ways he could, than to not have him, at all.

I read him as having a bone-deep fear of abandonment, as equally as Jinx does: terrified of being left behind, discarded, being seen as unworthy, etc.—largely from growing up in a broken household with an absent father, but also just from being the runt, his whole life; ignored and spat on by his peers, by the stronger ones, the faster ones, the smarter ones. There's rage under that, festered for a lifetime. There's also an intrinsic sliver of inadequacy.

We don't know anything about his home life, before—but there's something there, in the nature of Henry's character in Detachment, that I can't not tie to Jinx: perhaps a guilt he's battled with his whole life, from having an ill weakling of a mother he never knew what to do with, who died too young, hating her life and all an undesired childbirth had reduced her to.

Cue both of these into how he latched onto Vander, and why his betrayal shattered him to a shell—and also why he saw something in Powder: an opportunity to nurture the part of himself he gleaned in her, but also a chance to absolve that guilt from his mother, an innate need to try again, and why her sledgehammering into his schemes brought the humanity back into the monster he'd harnessed in himself.

I think Silco was always a deeply guarded, manipulative, quiet, and wrathful man—and that Vander saw him, empowered something in him, that made him feel worthy, not soiled. That they brought out the worst in each other, in the guise of familial connection, and hid their own fears under the surface (Silco, his affections and desire; Vander, the guilt of emboldening something monstrous in Silco that he despised, that he hated himself for taking pride in).

They were unstoppable together—but destined for a bloody end. A perfect foil for all the ways love can spiral into something destructive.

And, in the aftermath of it all, we have Vi—Vander's manifestation of those regrets: another little thing, adoring in his shadow, that he emboldened in his image while equally discouraging it every step of the way, and that he wallowed in his shame over; and we have Jinx—Silco's own manifestation: another image of his fractured, misguided understanding of what makes family real (e.g., I see the monster in you, and you see the monster in me, and that is still worth something, for all others may be repulsed by it).

He refuses to abandon her, even though he is given every opportunity, by himself and by others; refuses to abandon her like he was abandoned, like he himself abandoned his mother, even for all Jinx lashes out at him, looks for lies in everything he does. He is always, in his own ways, clinging to her—not wanting to lose her, to lose someone who sees him, again; and who he sees, in turn.

(And it's what Vi is striving for, as well—trying to absolve her own guilt of abandoning Powder, and clinging to memory of what they had, not wanting to lose her sister again—and it's something she will rage at Silco for, and go head-to-head with him on, constantly.)

TL;DR—Silco and Vander are a destructive unrequited tragedy, and Vi and Jinx will carry the imprints of that, in everything they do: broken mirrors of their fathers, and their fathers broken mirrors of each other.

#rambles #arcane #silco #silco arcane #vander #vander arcane #vanco #zaundads #arcane meta #i have TOO MANY THOUGHTS i haven't even gotten into the meat of this i jsut alsfjk #AUGH #punching the air #banging on riot's window for S2 tidbits #laying on the floor at the scene at the statue - because he *still goes back to him* after everything #yearning for him to just say something back #completely stripped down to a weaker/insecure self - to that man who strived for Vander's approval and understanding #like BUDDY #gah

[sukirichi]

earned it [05]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. domestic abuse, car accident, slight angst, sexism, suggestive scenes, unedited and my naoya simping is obvious with this one, 

notes. TEAM NAOYA LET’S GOOOO *sighs* finally got this out from my drafts. anyways, here’s an earned it update while i recover from migraines because my schedule was so hectic last week and i’m so tired, might be sleeping a lot these days hence the hiatus :( also ik i keep saying this but future chapters will finally be more...UH SPICY AND MORE DRAMATIC, I guess? this is mostly an angst fic btw so please don’t expect too much fluff of heartwarming romance. there WILL be romance,,,it just takes some time hehe, anways ENJOY...or not :)

series masterlist

Women were weak. Trained to be voiceless, compliant, and unable to fight – Naoya found them weak.

His own mother was the perfect epitome of that. For years, he’d watched her leave his father’s room with dried tears, wiping them away with the back of her sleeves. When she saw a little Naoya standing at the edge of the hallway, she’d immediately usher him back to his room, her tears replaced with a smile so convincing Naoya wouldn’t have believed she’d been crying if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. How could he be when day and night, he’s surrounded by tutors, expected to take over his clan and lead them all to a brighter future?

How could he be stupid when he can’t sleep at night, for the screams and cries of his mother, the sound of palm hitting cheek resonating just from the other room, accompanied with the insults directed her way by his own father?

How could he be so stupid when he looked up to his mother – who he believed was the only source of light in the rather desolate walls of their manor – only to see that her beauty faded with each passing day, the brightness of her eyes now filled agony, with pain, with fear? She no longer smiled; not even for him. She no longer came around his room to read him bedtime stories no matter how much Naoya pleaded because he’d gotten tired of reciting scriptures and poetry. She no longer kissed him on the forehead as a morning greeting, opting to stay in the sidelines with her head bowed, acting as if she was a servant and not his mother.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. As the future leader of the Zen’in Clan, it was his duty to hear and see everything, to be wary of everyone around him and to observe. He knew his father abused her. He knew his father hated her, looked down on her, stepped on her at each moment he could. And as if that wasn’t enough, Naoya found out they weren’t married in the first place.

She had been nothing but a mere concubine whose role was to birth an heir. Now that Naoya had come to life, her purpose to live ceased to exist. And people who had no role in the Zen’in estate had no reason to stay any further.

“Mother,” Naoya cried out, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “Mother, please don’t go, don’t leave me!”

She was crying again; he wished she’d stop doing that, that she’d stop being so weak. He wanted his mother to be strong and fight back, but she’s not even attempting to wipe her tears away this time, displaying her vulnerability and meek self to him. Had his father been there, she’d be scolded again, claiming that Naoya shouldn’t be exposed to behaviors of surrender and weakness.

His mother cupped his face, trying her best to keep the younger version of himself from dangling onto her robes; the expensive, silk material the last evidence she’d ever been a part of them.

“Naoya, baby, it’s okay. You need to grow up strong and be the clan leader, okay?”

“But why do you have to leave? Why do you never fight back?”

“I’m sorry, dear...” was all she said, finally kissing him on the forehead like she’d failed to do so for the past months. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better. Instead, Naoya’s cries grows louder with each minute, loud enough that he caught the attention of his manservants who paled at the Young Master’s wails that was sure to displease his father locked inside his study. His mother sent a glance their way that expressed messages he couldn’t yet understand due to his innocence. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller frame until they dragged Naoya away from his mother, the sight of a luggage behind her turning him weak in the knees.

“Remember, Mother always loves you.”

“No!” he fought against their hold. His servants did all they could to not harm the Young Master’s skin, but Naoya was too strong, too desperate that they were unable to hold him back.

Naoya kept running and running, uncaring of the fact his loose robes hindered him from going at full speed. He didn’t stop, even as his servants had trailed after him, desperate pleas for the Young Master to come back falling into deaf ears. His mother had arrived on a nearby bus from the open roads that led outside the Zen’in Estate’s outer gates, her hand frozen on the doors with her head slightly tilted to the side.

That slight moment of hesitance – to look behind or leave everything behind – was what made Naoya stop in his tracks. He breathed hard, sweaty palms on his knees as he silently prayed to the divine beings to bring his mother back, for her to look at him one last time.

But she didn’t.

And Naoya was frozen in his tracks, everything colliding into one crash and burn that he failed to make sense of everything. He stood there and watched his mother hop into the bus, her decision to leave him behind final and irrevocable. What had rung louder then? The way his heart shattered into pieces, or the loud honking of an incoming car that not even his skilled team of guards could protect him from?

Naoya figured it must’ve been the muffled cries of his mother behind the windows that rung the loudest even if he hadn’t heard it.

Until now, he carried the mark his mother left behind; a gnarly scar running inches from his kneecaps that throbs until now. It reminds him every day what could happen to someone once they’re weak, once they’re vulnerable, the horrifying consequence of not being strong enough to face in this world like a huge slap in his face. In a way, he felt grateful for the scar; at least it was proof he’d done his best to run after his mother, and this injury just taught him it was best to face things head on instead of running away.

This scar would always tell him that running away was never the option, and that was why Naoya felt so strong, so disappointed when he met you. Naoya saw much potential in you – the wrath firing in your eyes and the will to fight back is what pulled him in on the first place – and yet you were already trembling on the ground, your sweat dripping on the floor.

“Stand up!” he demanded, tapping his cane on the ground as he wobbled to his feet. “Do you really think being weak will make you survive in this world?”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” he spat out, matching the intensity of your glare. Had you been any lesser of a woman, a servant, he’d have your eyes gouged out. But to him, you were a vessel of hope, an embodiment of strength he could help you hone that he let you off. Still, he felt extremely let down that he expected so much from you, and you’ve been pathetic so far.

Naoya shook his head as he left. “You’re going to die the moment you step out of here. And to think I actually had high hopes for you. As expected, you women are weak and pathetic. Each one of you is useless.”

He didn’t get very far when his injury throbbed again. Naoya fell to his knees and immediately bit down on his lip to conceal his groans, but it was too late. You’ve rushed to him in an instant, already pulling his slacks upwards to get a good look at his knee. Worry is painted all over your features still drenched in sweat and exhaustion, and he pried your hand away, a frown deep on his lips.

“Get away from me. I don’t need a woman’s help.”

“You’re so uptight, you know that?” you rebutted with a roll of your eyes. Naoya watched as you skipped to the nearest medical kit he always kept in his training grounds (which he rarely used) and popping out painkillers to hand to him. “Just shut up and let me take care of you. Unlike you, I don’t walk around calling people weak, and you having this injury never made you weak in my eyes, but you’re not impotent either,” scoffing at him, you pushed the bottle of water to a very annoyed looking Naoya. “At least let me take care of you every once in a while.”

His whole life, Naoya knew nothing but the familiar bitter cold. Being served tea, scaring his servants with his mere presence, the toxic view that everyone was below them drilled into his own head – that had been his life, and his feelings about it were neither hot nor cold.

To him, it was just the way he’s supposed to be.

But the warmth of your hands, the tenderness of your touch to his scars not because you found him weak but rather you cared for him…it tugged at his heartstrings. That had been at least five years ago and Naoya still remembered that moment very clearly.

He couldn’t understand whether he hated his inability to run away or not, because to be around you confused him to no end. One moment, he saw you as nothing but his one way ticket to fortune, but when he was alone with you, he was beginning to see you more as a woman rather than a pawn to his game. Soon, you became more than that, and nothing had terrified him even more that he let someone in his heart just like that.

Did he love you? No, most definitely not. A man like him didn’t know how to love. But with you – every time he saw you – Naoya is confident to admit that he could somehow understand what love meant.

It had been a hellish trip – one he’d never admit it out loud that he wished to never go on again. He was just happy to be home before he laughed, because home? He’d never thought he’d ever say that, yet there he was, beaming at the sight of you pushing your weight off the limousine.

You looked as stunning as usual, running up to him even with your heels before wrapping your arms around his neck. Usually, Naoya didn’t like public displays of affection since it could greatly deter his reputation, but everyone knew both of you weren’t each other’s weaknesses that he didn’t care whether his people could see their leader grinning as his wife welcomed with a kiss. Naoya balanced himself on his cane to encircle a hand to your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you,” you mumbled with your head buried in his shoulder.

Naoya’s smile wasn’t any less affectionate. “I missed you more.” And he did – a whole lot. Even as you both made it inside the limousine, the tablet passed to him per the usual to update him on what happened on the few days of his absence, Naoya couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His cane balanced between his knee and the door, while his free hand intertwined with yours, mindlessly caressing the matching rings that symbolized more trust than love.

“How did it go?” he brought your knuckles up to his lips and kissed it, his attention still focused on today’s stock market. “Did you convince him to lend us the lab?”

“Yes, my love, everything is under control. I told you I had it.”

“Cunning little minx,” he smirked at the confidence and triumph dripping from your voice. Naoya shut his tablet off with a click, hauling you until you were resting on his lap. Giggles erupted beautifully from your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, both your smiles equally mischievous. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Satoru is still hopelessly in love with me, so it didn’t really take much to push him to the edge with a few tears and white lies,” you smiled at him, soon dropping from your face when Naoya’s eyes darkened with an unreadable – no, unfamiliar hint of worry behind them. “Naoya,” you caressed his leg, “I don’t care about him anymore, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I just want to survive and put everything behind,” you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eye, making sure he heard every bit of sincerity in your voice. “You know I love you, right? I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Him coming back doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know that,” he said, although deep down, in the dark recesses of his heart, something agonizing stirred within.

You were a smart woman – too intelligent that he may have feared you had he been any lesser – who could easily read through him, but Naoya wanted to be a step ahead of you that he caught your lips to stop you from seeking beneath his soul already. He knew that if you looked a little too close, you’d see everything, and that would be the last thing he wanted.

Snaking his tongue past your lips, he greedily swallowed your moans. Naoya’s touch was possessive as he gripped your thigh, seconds away from ripping off the material of your dress. He only stopped once he saw his driver pale in awkwardness, and he chuckled to himself, squeezing your hips to stop you from grinding on his thigh.  

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised, “I might just reward you once we get home.”

Home. Prior to meeting you, home had been nothing but a word in his extensive vocabulary. Home had been nothing but something that carried a meaning but no significance in his living, but now that he’d met you, home felt familiar. Home smelled like rose-scented shampoos, it resonated of bubbly laughter and curious hands finding its way to its belt. Home…you’d just given him something to lose.

As per the plan, you managed to sneak past Satoru’s defenses. Naoya had once said that your secret weapon was not your tempting nature as a woman, but rather your intelligence that sometimes put his to shame. He’d shamelessly announced his plan to use you again with the goal of taking matters into your own hands, looping Satoru into the picture until you have him wrapped around your finger again.

It turned out to be easier than expected. Truthfully, you wanted to refuse. It wasn’t because you were worried you’d beat yourself in your own game and fall for Satoru again, but because it felt so uncomfortable to hold him like that, to kiss him like that.

Each second you spent with him just served as a painful reminder of how he’d mindlessly pushed you to the side from a failed plan of ‘protecting’ you.

However, you couldn’t complain nor deny Naoya’s wishes. He wanted to use your abilities to the fullest of its extent and bring out your potential. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly that you’d never question his motives, even if it included seducing Satoru with crocodile tears and a faux broken heart to get him to bend and move at your will. After all, your will was also Naoya’s, and that was what made the both of you so dangerous together.

Standing here now in Satoru’s laboraty, sending him phoney desperate glances as you clutched your husband’s hand, the game had just begun.

He was giving you both a tour of what you could use from his laboratory, and Naoya had kept silent the whole time. The whole drug manufacturing was more your expertise than his. He simply observed everything with watchful eyes, his gaze darting between Satoru’s longing ones and yours. It was a play pretend of push and pull, everyone in the room except for Satoru unaware that soon, you’d bare your fangs to rip his neck apart, and then you’d stand aside and let Naoya finish the business.

You would’ve laughed had Naoya not tightened his grip on your hand. Both you and Satoru paused as Naoya desperately shushed you up, his eyes wide and floating from one corner to another.

Suddenly, a loud explosion came out of nowhere. The blast crushed half of the building to bare rubble and concrete and you saw nothing but black, inhaled so much smoke that your lungs quivered. The ringing in your ears didn’t stop as you wobbled to unsteady legs, waving the smoke away and coughing whatever filled your system. Satoru was right beside you, his long limbs quicker than yours before he hauled you up, checking to see if you had injuries but you were too scared, too desolate to care for his worry.

For your husband laid under a pile of rubble, an arm and his head the only parts of his body saved from the explosion.

“Naoya!” You screamed and pushed Gojo away, taking your heels off before darting straight to where he was. Jumping from broken debris to one another, your feet scraped and burned with each contact, the ringing in your ears growing louder along with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“Naoya, baby, no!” you tried to pick up the heavy slab of concrete that had crushed his body, tears blurring your vision until Naoya’s blond hair swiveled with his dark clothes. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t you fucking dare-”

“Gojo,” he choked out blood. You fell to your knees as you cupped his face and grasped his hand all the while, your entire body shaking. His name kept falling from your lips as you asked him to stand up but he pushed your hand away, not sparing you another glance as he glared at the shock still man behind you. “Take her someplace far – somewhere he won’t find the both of you. It’s T-Toji.”

“No, Naoya, please! I’m not leaving without you!” It was too late. Satoru had easily carried you and threw you over his shoulder, running away from the scene because that was what he was best at. You pounded at his back as the smoke enlarged and covered the entirety of the building that had fizzled with chemicals inside, your husband starting to disappear from view. “Satoru, let me go! We can’t just leave him there!”

“Listen to your husband! He knows what he’s doing!”

As the smoke cleared for a split second, your world stilled. Naoya’s face was smothered with dirt and stains, pain evident on his twisted features, and yet – he was smiling. “Go,” he mouthed, hands outstretched far enough for your matching rings to glint under the sparkling lights. “Live.”

You slumped into Satoru’s arms. It was too late.

You couldn’t comprehend the events that happened afterwards. Satoru had pushed you inside his car before taking off to who knows where. All you knew was that you’d left your husband behind, and you stared emptily at the streets that flashed by, unable to feel or understand anything. It wasn’t until Satoru dragged you out by the wrist and a plane whirring before you snapped you back to life, your feet turning heavy as you plant yourself on the ground.

Satoru looked back at you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shook your head, “I’m not leaving him behind, Satoru, he’s all I have. I need to save him – even if it means I die.”

“You’re not going to die,” he starts off slowly. Satoru moves to place his hands down on your shoulders as if to brace you, even going as far as to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you couldn’t really listen, not when the plane hummed to life and remnants of the explosion still clung to your skin.

“Listen, Naoya is a smart man, okay? You know that yourself. He’ll survive, you just need to trust that he’ll make it. Now we have to go before Toji catches up to us and we end up all dying here!” he shook you back to life when your sobs overpowered his speech that fell on deaf ears, and you cried harder, much less like a little girl who quivered in his arms. Satoru sighed, perhaps just as broken from seeing you this way. “He told you to live. Naoya isn’t asking you to die for him, he’s asking you to live and if you don’t get on the plane, we can’t fulfill his wish,” he convinced, but you only bit your lip, still looking back at the car. You could steal it – one punch to his nose and you could easily get away, get back to Naoya, until he said, “You love him right? So respect his wishes.”

You love him. You love Naoya. He would’ve wanted me to live. He asked me to live.

That was the only consolation you could give yourself as you allowed Satoru to take you inside. His right hand man, Geto or something, quietly closed the cabin doors behind you. He was making sure his boss was situated, who in turn was fretting over you. All it took was one last warning glare sent Satoru’s way before he backed off, raising his hands in surrender and falling back to his seat.

Sooner than you’d like, the plane had took off, leaving your heart right behind with each passing second. The higher you flew up in the air, the number you became.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a base in Italy. We should be safe there for a while. Gather resources, plan our next move, contact friends...we’ll be fine,” Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hard to believe things would be fine when he too seemed restless; whatever happened between him and Toji must’ve really left a scar; not that you cared. You huffed away from Satoru and stared outside the windows instead, your heart dropping the farther Japan was becoming. “Hey. You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Whatever,” you snapped at him. You couldn’t stand his voice, not even if he’s saved you.

The only thing that mattered now was living up to Naoya’s wish, and as much as you hated it, Satoru was right. You had to hope he would survive.

The chances of him making it out were low, but knowing Naoya, low chances weren’t zero. As long as he had a little bit of something, he would keep pushing. You just had to place your trust in him.

Kissing your dusty ring, you wiped away your tears one last time, eyes shut tight as you chanted over and over, live, live, live for me! Live! Naoya couldn’t give up that easily. You both had a long way to go, still so many places to travel, thousand more enemies to conquer and defeat. He promised you the fun was just beginning and that you’d get your revenge soon, and Naoya never broke his promises. So you had to trust, had no other choice but to believe that soon he’d be right beside you. He may not be able to completely walk anymore, though none of that mattered. You just wanted to be with him again.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until Satoru’s hushed whispers woke you up. Sitting up straight, you saw him scowling to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. He looked grim, long, slender fingers caressing his forehead as he sighed. Whatever he heard, it couldn’t have been good, and curiosity got the best of you before you could help it.

“What is it?” Satoru stilled at the sound of your voice, having not expected you to be awake. He refused to meet your eyes as he shut his phone. It angered you further and you stalked his way, slapping a palm down the table before him. “I said, what is it?”

“It’s Naoya...” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to look you in the eye. “He didn’t make it.”

notes. team naoya...let’s go...cry 😭 when I said I would write more gojo x reader scenes and that they’re still the pairing, I meant it, I just had to take a dark route anyways DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE THIS, I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS TO NAOYA BAE 😭 but on the bright side, italy arc is gonna be SHEESH

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @riri-marley @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant​ @mikiminaccch​ | bolder users cannot be tagged

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader romance #naoya x reader angst #naoya x reader romance #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #naoya x reader imagines #naoya zenin x reader imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukirichi: earned it #i hate this chapter so much #naoya bae i will bring you back to life in another series just for you

[starlight-in-my-eyes]

Hope for Dark Wings

A fanfic for twp where Ash reaches Magnus for help

Tag list- 

@shadowhuntingdemigod @bookeater34 @wannabe-warlock @queenlilith43

@adoravel-fenomeno @thomaslightwood  @patriwinterviolette

Dm me if u wanna be tagged or removed :)

Rough day ahead, Magnus thought glumly as he waved Alec goodbye. Jace had taken his little blueberry and Raph for training – whatever training 2 little boys could do but both of them wanted to go with their Uncle Jace. He had closed the door and was just about to go make coffee when he heard a light tap on the door, it was faint but someone had surely knocked it. He peeped through the – well, peephole and saw a hooded figure. A normal person would have rung the bell. He gathered his magic in his hands and made a barrier that wouldn’t allow the intruder to enter without his permission.

“What do you want?” he called

“I am looking for Magnus Bane” the voice was male and young; his voice carried a faint British accent.

“He checked the many wards he had put up when he and Alec had initially started living here and found himself opening the door surprisingly; he should not have done that.

“I am not in working hours right now. Though I am not in working hours anytime of the day for a mysteriously hooded person bear that in mind-”

The hooded figure pulled down the hood of his cloak and Magnus stood gawking at the blond boy. Years of being alive had supressed his curiosity in many things but now all that he could do was stare for all that he knew that this could be an Eidolon demon. Every cell in his body screamed for him to do something, raise an alarm probably but this demon or boy could not hurt him, not with the wards and him standing outside of the house. He gave himself time to relax and looked in the eyes of the boy. Green eyes. But his eyes did not remind him of the Seelie Queen who was all wicked and barbaric instead, they reminded him of his little Biscuit’s during the months of war and when she had no love. A name ran through his mind, Ash Morgenstern. Ash. Ruins. Devastation. But looking at the boy he could not think how someone soo broken can cause much destruction, but then again a broken glass is what makes you bleed.

“I want your help Magnus.” His voice broke Magnus from his reverie. “I don’t know anybody here and who to ask for help, so I came to you hoping that you would be kind. I know you have no reason to trust me but I swear on Fairyland and by the Angel that I will do no harm to you and the people you love. Please please Magnus, I know nobody else I can go to”

His voice sounded soo desperate and soo broken that Magnus couldn’t help but remember helping two other blue-eyed boys. The difference now was that he trusted those two, this one, he did not.

And yet everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves, Magnus had learned. So, he let the boy in but did not set down the wards or his guard.

“Explain” he said.

So the boy did. He told Magnus about how he and the Jace from the other realm: Thule had managed their way here and how Jace was the only person he had. He told him about what the other Jace wanted: Clary, that surprisingly did not shock Magnus. And then he told him about the deal the other Jace had made with the Seelie Queen.

Everybody had been apprehensive of the future but that was because of the Cohort. Nobody could have expected this. Nobody. He was aware his expression to Ash did not change as Ash continued his story but, on the inside, he felt the need to do something, go to Alec and tell him everything, take his little children and lock them in a cellar. He wanted to run to Jace and Clary and tell them everything so they can be prepared but he remained seated on the sofa in front of this boy who seemed shattered, it was as if he had gathered his tiniest broken pieces he could bring himself to gather and mustered all the courage he had to come to him for help.

He realized that Magnus was not the only one who had taken a great risk in allowing Ash inside. Ash also had no reason to trust Magnus as well. He saw Ash wipe away a tear hastily. Magnus knew what it felt to lose the only person you had and worse was that Ash hadn’t lost the other Jace, rather he had turned and taken a path that Ash could not. Ash did not like his mother that much was significant. He also did not approve of a Jace killing the another Jace, and that told Magnus more about Ash than anybody could have guessed.

“You must have heard about me from Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn, you know there’s these incantations on me that make people love and protect me. Jace did not love me, he was merely under a spell. I knew this spell wouldn’t work on you as you’re a child of a Prince of Hell so I came to you. I want you to help me get that charm off me. I am tired of people helping me because they have to, I want someone to love the real me”

Magnus considered. He didn’t have experience with this kinds of spell but then again, most things he did were completely new, such as with Alec. He said he’ll help Ash but also, he’ll tell his friends about their meeting, this will not remain a secret. Ash will not remain a secret. Ash agreed.  

“I just don’t want to meet anybody until the charm is off me. They may come to love me and when we remove the spell all those false feelings will become dust and I’ll have to begin with them again, better not start now” Despite the sorrow in his voice he seemed a little hopeful.  

Magnus understood, “Where will you go and how can I reach you if I don’t know where I can find you?”

“I don’t know where I’ll be going now. Um..you know there are these things called cell phones.....you may not be aware of them but these are small rectangular box like structures and we can use them to contact people very far away.......”

Despite everything, Magnus found a smile creep up his mouth.

~~

Thanks for reading This was my first fanfic ever so if u liked it please appreciate, I’ll feel motivated

#twp #the wicked powers #ash morgenstern #magnus bane #fanfic #twp fanfic

[shootybangbang]

Captive Audience

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Mature

[Setup]: Modern AU, inspired by @verai-marcel's discord post:

Hear me out.... But what if. Modern AU, Arthur is a delivery man of some kind, has a hard time falling asleep sometimes so he listens to a naughty podcast to help him sleep...

Delivers a package to an office where you just started work. He recognizes your voice as the voice of the podcast, but you are desperately trying to hide that...

Arthur - "You... Sound real familiar. Have we met?"

You - "Uh, no, I, uh..."

Hilarity and romcom hijinks ensue

But also sexy times, because imagine Arthur wankin' off to your voice

[Note]: I do sometimes like writing Arthur/Reader prompts, so feel free to drop something in my inbox if you have any suggestions.

--------

“I don’t… know you, do I? Your voice sounds familiar.”

Taking a step back, you give him a good once over. Grey uniform, so he probably works for the warehouse downstairs. The last name on his shirt reads “Morgan”. Nothing about him sparks any recognition. And besides, you’re absolutely sure that if you’d interacted with someone this handsome before, you’d remember him. Intimately.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I just started working here last week.”

The man shakes his head. “Nah, never mind. For a moment there, you sounded just like some podcaster I — ow, Jesus Christ, what’re you —”

At the very mention of the word “podcaster”, you’d momentarily gone limp with shock and dropped your hot chai latte. Right on his pant leg. Your face feels so hot with shame that your cheeks flush a nearly luminescent scarlet.

“Oh my god, I am so fucking sorry. I’ll clean this up, I just need... hold on one second.” You immediately begin sprinting to the stack of paper towels next to the coffeemaker, nearly bowling over Steve from accounting on your way there. You grab about half the stack and sprint back, then start frantically dabbing at the wet coffee stain. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry. Did I give you a first degree burn? If I did, then I have burn cream in my bag and I’ll —”

Morgan suddenly grabs your wrist, and you jump.

“Sorry ma’am,” he says. “But you were… uh… you were gettin’ real close to … well, you know.”

He’s blushing, and you quickly see the reason why. Your hand is about two inches away from his groin. Nearly in tears, you hand him the rest of your paper towels and sit down quietly in your office chair. Then you cover your face and say in a small, pathetic voice, “I want to dig a hole 70 ft deep and lie in it.”

Too late, you realize that it’s the same voice you use when recording your orgasm denial sessions. Humans aren’t typically known to spontaneously combust on will, but it doesn’t stop you from trying anyway.

“Well, sign for your package first,” Morgan says. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

You silently hold out your hand to receive the clipboard, then scrawl a neat, loopy signature that you hope recovers at least an ounce of his lost respect for you. “I really am sorry. If you need to get this dry-cleaned or something, I’ll pay.”

“Ma’am, it’s just coffee. Don’t worry about it.”

“And please don’t…” you take a deep breath, then force yourself to look him in the eye. “Please don’t tell anyone about the podcast. I’d like to keep my job.”

“Podcast?” he shakes his head and smiles, looking so unbearably charming that you immediately develop arrythmia. “Never heard of it.”

You take a deep breath, then let it out as a slow sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” As he turns his back, he lifts a hand in farewell.

———

It’s not as though he’d never wondered what you looked like before. But he also had never been very good at it.

While listening to your voice, Arthur would usually try to construct some mental image of the woman you might be, switching through a mental catalog of faces and features to try and create something that rung true. And so the composite figure would go through a multitude of transformations, each based on his own varying moods and tastes. A gallery of failed chimeras, each of them falling just short of satisfaction.

Then he’d met you, and it had all clicked into place somehow.

“That’s the new monitor, right? Thanks.”

Arthur’s body made the connection before his mind could, triggering in him a miserable Pavlovian response. He’d immediately gotten hard at the innocuous little statement, and he’d been confused at first. Just another pretty office girl. Nothing to get excited about.

Then you’d picked up the box and made a little “mph” noise as you’d steadied it with your knee. The same little “mph” he’d heard repeated a million times before in the middle of the night, with his cock in hand and his eyes closed, imagining himself fucking you into his mattress. The same little “mph” you’d always voice upon penetration, that cross between a sigh of relief and the strain of taking something inside you could only barely handle.

And then you’d spilled coffee on him and nearly brushed your hand against his erection, and he’d had to stop you lest you report him to HR for indecency.

Some time later, he’s lain in bed and filled with intense inner conflict regarding the ethics of masturbating to one’s coworker.

His phone beeps and lights up. He blearily picks it up to see what kind of godforsaken task Dutch has for him at 1 fucking AM, then makes a small, choking noise when he reads the pop up bubble.

New [Peach Juice] Episode Added:

Office Sex

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption #fic #my work

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello! Thank you for answering my Ravage request, I love it so much! Also your last Rodimus prompt really helped me yesterday, thank you.

Can I request some headcanons about how would Megatron, Swerve and Rung react to love confession from their human crush? Free to ignore it if there's too many characters

(sorry if it's not okay to send more than one request in such short amount of time)

Yay I'm glad that you liked what I wrote and that some of my other stuff helped you out! Sorry for the delay in answering these, I've been quite surprised by the volume in my inbox! I have three lovely bots reacting to love here, and feel free to send in requests so long as my inbox is open!

Megatron

·The confession thankfully occurs while he's seated, as the impact force of a thirty foot mech collapsing to the floor would have been... considerable. That's not to say his physical reaction is at all subtle though. Eons of combat training and discipline dissapear in a flash and his expression shows the full extent of his shock. Was he dreaming? Or did his audials need repair? There must be some confusion, because he's fairly certain the little human on his desk just said that they loved him. No matter his own considerable feelings for them, he must be considerably mistaken, because that would simply be impossible.

·Except it isn't impossible. In fact, it's the truth, you tell him more than a few times over once he starts asking if you're confused or perhaps unwell. He wants to be elated, but a lifetime of training keeps that reaction well contained, as he knows from experience that these things simply cannot happen to bots like himself. Kneeling before the table you stand on, he tries not to sound pitiful or ungrateful as he requests clarification one final time, saying that he couldn't possibly expect love from one who had so much to hate him for.

·You're firm but as gentle as you might be with a fragile bit of glass as you make it undeniably clear; you love him. The only thing you're unsure of, and hoping to find out yourself, is whether or not he feels the same. All the expectation in your eyes compels him to act as impulsively as a sparkling, and he emphatically returns your feelings in a hushed reply, raising a tender hand to hold your little body in the rush of emotion shooting through him.

·There's a moment of icy reality to stop him in his tracks. Don't you know what he's done? What being with him could put you at risk of? That there's nothing to be gained from entangling yourself in the mess he's made of his life? Well accustomed to this behavior, you stand your ground and look him square in the optics, affirming that you're well aware of everything he's just said, but that the only thing you want from him is him, so everything you must endure in relation to him is already worth the struggle. In a rare burst of emotion he pulls your little body to his chest for the gentlest of hugs.

·He laughs for the first time in what has to be eons. There's the smallest hint of a fog in his optics as you find yourself tearing up too, overwhelmed by this hulking bot finally opening up to you completely and just being happy. For his part, he can't truly believe any of this is yet real, but he isn't going to bother with that for now. To know you love him is the greatest peace he's ever experienced, but also the most invigorating kind of euphoria. There's youthful hope in his spark again, encouraging his desire to explore and experience the wonders of life now that he has you at his side, but for this single moment he's content to just... be. One bot, one human, embracing through their laughter and tears.

Swerve

·Somehow he forgets he was polishing a glass at all in the second it takes for it to shatter upon impact with the ground. You had been talking, going round in a way that suggested you were intent on getting to a particular topic, but then...? The glass is forgotten as he gently cuts off your attempt at an apology, spark pulsing and voicebox constricting as he asks you to repeat yourself, looking like he's terrified beyond all belief as he does so. A kind of fear he hasn't felt in a long time prevents him from pretending to be okay like he's so used to doing.

·At your careful reassurance that you did indeed say you love him, and that you meant it, he speaks so softly in response you can barely hear him. The questions he whispers are slow and deliberate, and if he could see anything but you he'd be grateful no one else is present to witness him acting so... shy. He has to make sure though, because it just doesn't seem possible; you love him? Beautiful, intelligent, funny, caring you is in love with... him? But he loves you too, and that means you love each other, and how is that possible?!

·Disbelief slowly melts into a happiness he's afraid to let in only because it's so foreign to him, but bit by bit he begins to realize this is actually happening, and his lonely spark lets the feeling in. Tears start to drop from his foggy visor as a trembling smile pulls up his cheeks, compelling you to reach out from your spot on the bar and invite him into a comforting hug. While he clarifies that he's never felt better, he still happily takes the hug, pulling in your tiny body with his large servos and carefully holding you close.

·Feeling the warmth of you against him sends another wave of beautiful confirmation through him; this is real. The loneliness that always plagued his spark seems insignificant now, as if he's gained a kind of perspective just knowing someone like you could care so deeply for him. All of his friends, all of his patrons, and you at the very center of it all... Why wasn't he ever able to see just how much warmth and goodness there was before this moment?

·Tears are streaming down his face when he lets you go, and at your concern he assures you it's nothing to worry about. There are more questions, but they're happy now, and he's smiling like never before as you dutifully answer every query whilst dabbing his cheeks with a towel that's blanket sized for you. He wants to know; when did you start to have feelings? Does this mean you really don't mind his jokes? Can he tell the others? Is he handsome by human standards? There's so much for him to say but, for once, no rush to say it. Somehow he's finally realized that he doesn't need to talk to get your attention, he just needs to be himself, and the banter is simply a lovely bonus.

Rung

·Though he's certain he misheard, he removes his glasses almost on instinct, looking to the little lifeform he's grown so close to with an unguarded expression of apprehension tinged with hope, gentle but rarely seen optics looking to you with that vulnerability he keeps so well hidden from everyone else. You only remain silent because you briefly lose yourself in his gaze, which is as desperate as it is due to him wanting so badly to believe he did indeed just hear what he's uncertain is actually possible. The request for you to repeat is so soft it's barely audible. Thin digits try to polish his lenses as is his custom when concealing stress, but he fumbles so frequently he has to cease just as he begins.

·You stand near the edge of the table, speaking slowly and clearly so there can be no misunderstanding. The confession is indeed irrefutable this time around, the simple words breaking the silence with their surprising weight and drawing a tiny gasp from him in the process. His hand over his mouth prevents further exclamations, though he's certainly not capable of making any in his current state. Something in the depths of his being has always yearned for this, but he never dared to even dream it could happen, that he could love and in return be loved.

·Tears on his precious face spur you to act, if only because they're absolutely heartbreaking, but as he moves his hand from his mouth you see that despite his sobs he's absolutely beaming. You're surprised even further when he laughs through the tears, and at your prompting says that he's just overwhelmed. You, wonderful and thoughtful and brilliantly unique little you, in love with the bot no one can remember? What has he ever done to be this fortunate? Admittedly he's not fully convinced that this isn't a dream, but he has no intention of letting that stop him from basking in this wonderful feeling.

·You can't help but cry a little too, seeing him overwhelmed in a way you never could have anticipated. Tiny human hands take his offered servo and guide the tip of his digit to brush adoringly over your cheek, just as he so often does, but you notice that for the first time ever there's no hesitation to the action. There's only pure, serene affection. Looking into his optics, you see a mech almost made new, as if the validation you give him just by existing and loving him has changed his entire outlook on life. For a bot who does so much for others, you can't even begin to describe how wonderful it is to give him that peace.

·Still as bashful as they come, he blushes when you move in to embrace him from the tables edge on a whim, but the sheepish hesitation quickly gives way to a mutual hug. The hum of his spark is almost melodic in your ears as you press your head into his warm chest. Your tiny heartbeat, just perceptible to the servo he has cradling you close, is equally jubilant to his touch. The beauty of it all is almost enough to make him dizzy; for the first time in his life he feels truly seen, truly heard, truly here. Reality is still moving just as it was before, but now he genuinely feels like he is a part of it all, here with you in his loving arms. You make him certain that he's worth remembering.

#transformers #transformers headcanon #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #idw #tf #maccadam #my asks #anon #requests #my writing #megatron x reader #rung x reader #swerve x reader #human reader #self insert

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 8 - Parisian Nightmares

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Summary: With Neil MIA you have some time to think about everything that happened. But you are not allowed peace at all..

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: The longest chapter yet, so sorry for that. It’s a little bit of a filler slower one so hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Supposedly the idea of having lunch with TP would have scared you more if it was not for the way he guided you through the experience. He ordered food from the dining hall and made sure you had your coffee before starting any serious topics. Your tired and confused self really appreciated the efforts.

“So what do you want to talk about?” you asked after finally feeling more like a functioning human being.

“I thought we could discuss the things to come…” he briefly searched for the right words “Parts of it is what Neil already knows, but some details are not meant for him” he looked at you with a serious gaze “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course” you nodded, feeling both intrigued and nervous.

Ever since the topic of The Algorithm has been first breached, you hoped to learn more. Probably Neil’s presence would have helped at the moment, but if that was not possible then you just had to face the truth calmly. If not now, then when?

“Can I ask something first?”

“Go ahead”

“My recruitment… it wasn’t just because I was recommended by my professor, was it?” you felt like you already knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

“No” TP smiled “I knew from a good source that we had to recruit you”

You stared at him, desperately trying to comprehend what he meant. Suddenly you understood Neil and his despise of half-truths.

“Can I ask who’s that source?”

TP just smiled apologetically, and you groaned.

“Right. Did Neil know?”

“No, I only told him that you have to be enlisted” at your questioning stare, he added “It’s safer that way” he shrugged as though it explained everything.

It did not, but you began to understand that it was not meant to make sense. A sentence said during one of your early lectures rung out in your head: Don’t try to understand it. Feel it. Maybe that was the whole point.

“So that’s how you know that I’ll be needed during the plan? From the source?”

“Kind of” he grinned again “It’s a very reliable source, I must add” he looked at you pointedly and laughed at your confused face “I swear this will get clearer with time”

The reassuring smile made you feel somewhat better. Taking a sip of the coffee, you considered what was being said.

“When does it all begin?”

“With action in Kiev Opera in a month, more or less. But in reality, it already began years ago”

You frowned, feeling your head go blank. TP was smiling, clearly enjoying your utter confusion.

“It’s okay, you’ll catch up eventually”

“Thanks, that’s encouraging” you lightly smacked him in the shoulder.

“I’ll give you more information leading up to Kiev and then after” he explained after a short silence “But you can’t know the whole progression of events. I’m the only one who is cursed with that”

The sudden change in the tone made you stare at him curiously. But his face was like a mask.

“For now though, you don’t need to worry about it” he smiled again “I’m sending you out on a quiet mission to Paris with one of our agents”

That was surprising. But you could do with a distraction.

“Okay… what’s the deal?” you leaned onto the table and flashed him a brilliant smile.

“You have to research one shady guy in Paris. It’s just observation so no need for engagement. The only trick is that you have to pose as a newlywed couple” he looked at you expectantly.

Oh…

“How long will this take?” you tried to focus on the details, not to think too much about the implications of the cover.

“Three weeks” he smiled at your glare “What? It’s gonna be nice! Three weeks in Paris and all you have to do is observe our target, Pierre or whatshisname, and cosy up with Jasper” the overly enthusiastic tone made you laugh.

“You made it sound almost fun” you admitted after calming down a little.

“Well, it’s always a break from spending time with Neil” TP looked at you with an amused expression “I’m sure you could use some of that” he winked.

You shot daggers in his direction, all the while feeling your face grow warm. Admittingly, time without Neil could be useful. You just were not sure it would do much at this point. You were beyond saving.

“When do I begin?”

“You’ll have a mission briefing tomorrow, and that’s also when you’ll meet Jasper” you nodded “And now I think you should rest a little” he eyed you carefully.

“You’re probably right” you both got up “Thanks for the lunch and the chat… It helped” you smiled lightly.

“My pleasure” he ignored your outstretched hand and gave you a quick hug.

After a small hesitation, you returned the gesture. It felt familiar, and you had no clue why. 

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me” TP smiled at you warmly.

“I’ll remember that” you grinned back and moved to open the door.

“Oh and don’t worry about Neil” you stopped in your tracks and turned to stare at him “I know that he can be extremely annoying, but he really cares about you”

You were speechless and could only nod in response. The Protagonist laughed at your expression before shooing you out of the room with a gesture. You gladly did just that.

*** One thing was for certain, life without Neil could be boring. You found out that much from the moment you came back to your room. After making sure the main casualty of the mission – your dress – was in the washing, you spent most of that afternoon staring at the ceiling. You were mostly thinking about how much your life has changed in the last weeks. And trying to avoid thinking about him because that could never end well. But of course, the universe had other plans.

Just as you were dealing with the fact that the dress was utterly ruined, your phone buzzed. It was late, and the number was used solely for personal reasons, so the sound made you frown. You looked at the screen to find a text message from an unknown number:

“How’s the dress?”

There was no signature, but you knew.

“How did you get my number?” you replied and quickly saved his contact details.

It didn’t take him longer than a minute to respond.

“Used the charm you’re so quick to ignore”

Ah, Anna’s help then.

“Why?”

“Couldn’t imagine not bothering you for too long”

You covered your face with your hands for a few seconds before typing back.

“The dress is ruined, so thanks for nothing”

The speed with which he responded took you aback. Surely he’d have better things to do...? It did not seem so.

“It’s hardly my fault, is it? That wasn’t my idea” you could almost imagine the self-satisfied grin.

“Point taken” you hit the sent button and then took a deep breath.

It’s not too early for double texting, is it?

“Where are you?” you typed another message before throwing the phone on the other side of the bed.

When it buzzed again, you regretted the decision. Pretending that you would be able to resist reading the message immediately was pointless. You reached for the phone and read his answer:

“On the way to Boston airport”

Great. At least now you knew that he is not around, and you can have time to think. But with those texts, it might be harder to do. Before you could overthink the response, another one came through.

“Be honest, how bored are you without me?” you wondered how someone could be so annoying via text message.

“I’ve been assigned a little mission in Paris, actually. With Jasper. So not that bored, thank you very much”

This time it took him longer to respond. Approximately 6 minutes. Not that you were counting.

“You’ll be bored soon enough if you’ll be stuck somewhere with Jasper. What’s the cover?”

You did not like the assumption, but who were you to argue.

“Newlyweds enjoying honeymoon” you typed back and closed your eyes.

Somehow his response to that information mattered a lot.

“I guarantee you’ll wish it was me soon enough” Fucking hell.

“That’s a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little. But once you meet him, you’ll know I’m right”

“Well then I won’t hesitate to report back after the meeting” you replied and made sure to prepare yourself for the mission brief.

After you were done with planning the outfit and packing your folder, you glanced at the phone.

“Please do. I need to know what dear Jasper is up to these days”

“If you’re so curious about him, maybe ask Anna for his number ;) Sure she’d never deny you anything”

You weren’t sure where that came from, but sure enough, you were not going to take it back.

“Wow… Is that jealousy I’m sensing?”

“You wish” you glanced at the clock and realised how late it was.

“Goodnight, Neil” you sent him another text and went to the bathroom.

When you were back there was a message waiting for you.

“Sweet dreams, darling”

You groaned. In the end, it seemed like you will not be able to get a break from Neil. What a shame.

*** From the moment you stepped into the conference hall in the morning, you knew that Neil was right. Jasper was not one of the most entertaining people you have ever met. When you were introduced to each other he barely glanced up from the folder to look at you and half-heartedly shook your outstretched hand. You took a long look at him and his short brown hair and hazel eyes. He did look decent, to be fair. But he was not Neil. And you hated that your brain made that comparison straightaway.

“So what’s the task, boss?” the first time you heard his voice was when he addressed the Protagonist.

“You have to observe the target, Pierre Armand, who’s an inverted weapons dealer. You’re supposed to watch his every move and send daily updates but don’t engage. That will be the job for another team” TP looked at you both intently “Your cover is a newlywed couple going by the surname Morgan and who have just moved into their lovely suite next door to Armand” you’d swear he winked at you.

You glared back while your newly assigned partner studied the folder attentively. You wondered if he ever did anything else.

“When do we leave?” you decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Your plane is tomorrow afternoon” you nodded “Any other questions?” when neither of you spoke, he added “So I’ll leave you two to get acquittanced”

You stared at TP panicked, but he only flashed you one cheeky smile and left the room. That did explain why he and Neil got along so well. Grudgingly you turned towards Jasper, who was still pre-occupied with the damn folder. You cleared your throat, and he glanced up.

“So… have you been working here for a while?” you were shit at small talk.

“For three years now” he eyed you up sceptically “You’re the new recruit from London, aren’t you?” you could almost hear the condescension.

“Yes” it was not looking promising “Neil recruited me, and we’ve just been on a mission together in New York” you added.

It was a mistake. At the mention of Neil, Jasper’s eyes flared up, and he looked at you sharply.

“I heard that mission was a major fuck up” the vicious smirk took you aback “And poor Neil got shot”

You could only stare in confusion at the man in front of you. Boring and clearly having issues with Neil. Just bloody perfect.

“Anyway, I got to prepare” he got up “But mind you, Paris won’t be at all like an operation with that idiot” he glared at you.

“And what’s an operation with him like?” you were genuinely curious at this point.

“Overly dramatic” he made a grand gesture with his hands before slamming the doors in the wake of his exit.

He did have a point there. You sighed, grabbed your documents, and exited the hall. On the way to your room, you decided to give in to the temptation and typed a message to Neil.

“With grief, I have to admit you were right about Jasper”

You were not expecting a response instantly, so the buzz when you were pouring coffee into the cup made you jump up. Neil could make your life harder, even remotely.

“Told you. How is he doing?” you read the reply and grinned at the casual tone.

“He’s grumpy and hates you for some reason. Can’t wait to be stuck with him for three weeks” you sighed and accepted the grim fate.

“Sounds like him then. You never know, you might bond over your shared hatred for me”

You nearly choked on your coffee then. A fellow agent passing by on the corridor stared at you. This could only get worse.

“Think my hatred towards you has nothing compared to his. Any ideas why he’s like that?”

“Nothing concrete, but I’ve got a few vague theories. I’ll tell you when I’m back”

“Hope so. What time is it there?” closing the door to your room, you could finally behave like an idiot.

“Past 11 pm. Excited for your outing with Jasper?”

Asia then… You tried to think about any possible places he could be but came up with too many options.

“Not at all. Fully expecting my days will be spent wandering around Paris alone or watching French HGTV”

You decided to look through the folder to distract yourself from the increasing stress. This time you were supposed to be Amelia Morgan, wife to Nicholas Morgan. Amelia’s occupation was being an accountant, which sounded extremely boring, but at least you would get to experience the city. Your study was then interrupted by another text.

“You can always message me if you’re bored”

Tempting.

“Careful because I might”

“You better” To that, you did not know what to say,. so you just got lost in the preparations for the mission. This one was not looking good but there was no other choice. So you just focused on learning about your target. At least this time, there was no one to distract you.

Until another text came, a solid hour later.

“One clue about Jasper: Anna”

Oh not her again.

“Don’t tell me he’s hopelessly in love with her”

“Perhaps… And well, she has eyes for someone else so” and then “Not to be smug naturally”

You grinned at the screen.

“You do sound smug”

You had to admit that if Neil’s theory was true, it was rather heart-breaking for both Anna and Jasper. Not that you felt sorry for either of them.

“He might decide to take revenge upon me by breaking your heart”

You stared at the text and the many implications he could have meant it by it. And it was too much to figure out right now. Instead, you just typed back:

“Good luck to him” and then, with heart thumping wildly “Would you care if he did?”

You tried to ignore the phone when the answer came. But after an agonising minute spent reading the same two words over and over, you gave in.

“Maybe” 

Right… You just had to add that question to the long list for when he’s back. You closed the folder with a flourish. All mental coherence was gone.

*** It turned out that Neil was not right about everything. If Jasper ever intended to claim and then break your heart, he was utterly shit at it. Since the day you moved into your cosy Parisian flat, he barely spoke a word to you. Most of the time, he was buried nose deep in the mission briefs or books related to strategies and secrets of arms dealing. If you had tasks to complete, he would often sideline you before doing the job himself while ignoring any help you offered. To put it straightforwardly, he pissed you off.

And yet, his eagerness to be entirely self-dependent meant that you had time to discover Paris and relax while still completing the mission in any way you could. You also had more than enough time to text Neil, who always responded to your messages promptly. You sometimes wondered if he ever slept or did anything but talk to you. Not that you did mind, of course.

Your patience towards Jasper, his silence and superiority complex snapped for the first time after a week and a half. You have both been sitting in the living room of your condo, just after finishing quiet dinner. You were bored, extremely so. You have reached for the television remote with the intent to put on some background noise to ease the tension. But the moment you have switched the tv on, Jasper spoke:

“Don’t turn this shit on, it’s distracting” he has not even lifted his head from the folder he was studying.

You glared at him sharply and decided that you have had enough.

“Distracting from what? It’s not like you’ve not read this at least five times today already”

That made him look up. And he was not happy.

“I’m working. You should try that sometimes” he eyed you pointedly.

“I would if you ever gave me a chance to do anything” you shrugged, already not liking the conversation.

“I gave you a few opportunities, but you were just lazy” he placed his documents aside and went back to glaring at you “All you do is knock around Paris and stay on your phone for hours” a vicious smile appeared on his face “You’re texting Neil, aren’t you?”

You were taken aback by the whole situation and unable to deny the truth. “Even if I am, that’s none of your business” you were desperately hoping he would shut up.

But it was too late, and Jasper has clearly been triggered.

“That’s quite pathetic. You should know he never actually cares about all those girls he flirts with” he seemed to judge you “And I don’t see why you could be different” the smug smile was cruel.

Now you knew why it was better when he stayed quiet. You scrambled for any words of defence, but he managed to hit the mark. Swallowing hard, you schooled your face and replied in the most neutral tone you could muster at the moment.

“I think you’re just pissed Anna prefers Neil over you”

That worked. You watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened, and you silently thanked Neil for the information.

“Anna has nothing to do with this” it was his turn to stumble over the words “You’re just unwilling to face the truth” this time his harsh words lacked the sureness.

You were winning.

“So are you” you shrugged “I’ve had enough of this. You can go back to your precious mission briefs” you got up and left the room without a further glance.

You had to admit that his words did upset you. Even when you almost certainly knew he was wrong your brain had its own doubts. Because what if he was right? That would hurt, more than you could acknowledge.

But before you could begin the overthinking, the phone you threw onto the bed buzzed. He always knew when to message.

“How’s married life with Jasper going?”

And naturally, he always asked the right questions too. You did hate him for that.

“Now I know why it’s better he reads his documents instead of talking” you replied and debated what to do next.

“What did he do?” Neil quickly texted back even though you were pretty sure it was early morning hours for him.

You did not want to get into a serious conversation over the texts.

“He got a bit riled up and said some bullshit that wasn’t fun to listen to” that seemed like an easy way out for now.

“Do you want me to send a team to eliminate him? It would look like an accident”

You laughed at the tempting proposition.

“I’ll think about it”

“Are you alright?” you stared at the new message.

You were not exactly alright.

“I will be”

Why did lying feel so bad?

You switched off the lights in the room and lied on the bed. Just a week and a half to go. You’ve got this… right?

*** The last week in Paris passed in relative peace. Mostly because you and Jasper stopped speaking to each other entirely. Occasionally you would notice his cruel smirk appear when he caught you texting, and you did your best to ignore it. However, it did hurt, and you had to admit that one argument has managed to uproot all the confidence you have had.

Peace ended abruptly on the penultimate day when it became clear that you were being followed. Jasper caught on to the fact after he noticed someone shadow you on your walk through the city. You hid in one of the cafes as soon as he has signalled the fact to you. You knew he was right the moment a random man peered into the darkened premises and then went on to loiter nearby.

“Right, what do we do?” you looked around, trying to stay calm.

It seemed like no one else was onto you. Jasper already looked pissed off, and you wondered if it meant that more pleasant things would be said.

“I suspect they’ve got doubts about the authenticity of our story” he was intensely scanning the horizon, looking for any threats “He’s still there, waiting for us to blow the cover or prove him wrong” he turned to you with the most unhappy face you have ever seen.

“What is it?”

You were not sure you wanted to know the answer.

“We made it this far. I’m not letting them fuck it up” he leaned towards you and closed the gap.

You were frozen in horror before your brain caught up with the fact that Jasper was kissing you. Then you closed your eyes and tried to reciprocate with the minimum effort needed for it to look believable. It was pretty horrible, to put it simply. He was kissing you sloppily with a tempo that you could not match. You felt his hand clumsily entangle in your hair only to make you flinch when he ripped out a few hairs. After a solid 30 seconds long snog, you decided that had enough. You leaned back, ignoring the overwhelming urge to wipe your lips with the napkin. He stared at you briefly with that same disgusted face before discretely looking for your trail. The man was gone. You could only hope it worked as you exited the café, holding hands.

On the way back to the apartment, you refused to look at him, somehow hoping that would get rid of the awful way you felt. Naturally, being a spy did involve doing things like that but for some reason, it was not easy. You hated the fact that your brain kept on rewinding memories from New York and, in the process, making you feel worse. Once you made it back, you locked yourself in the room, leaving Jasper to fill in the report. You were tempted to message Neil just for the sake of knowing his thoughts on what happened.

“Today was my lucky day, and I got to experience PDA with Jasper. Send help”

That would do nicely, right?

“Must say I didn’t expect that”

As you were desperately looking for something to text back, your phone did something you did not expect it to do. It rang. You stared in shock as Neil’s number flashed as the caller ID. With a shaking hand, you picked up the phone and pressed the green button.

“Neil?” your voice sounded incredibly awkward.

Great start.

“What happened?” hearing his voice after those three weeks felt surreal.

Was it your imagination, or did he sound slightly tense?

“Um… we were being followed outside, so we entered a café. The tail was observing us and…” you took a deep breath, suddenly extremely nervous “And Jasper decided to kiss me to authenticate the cover”

Neil was silent, and that did not help with the irrational anxiety, so you rambled on, losing control of what you were saying.

“Well, it was more of a snog judging by how it lasted for thirty seconds, but I think they bought…”

“Okay, stop” he interrupted you abruptly “I’m not sure I want to know the details”

“Why not?” somehow out of the mixture of anxiety and insecurity, annoyance emerged “Are you jealous?”

You regretted the question as soon as it left your mouth. And did not want to know the answer. Luckily he did not respond. Instead, he did what Neil does best:

“Who’s a better kisser?”

You could not believe the nerve of this man.

“You can’t be for real” you muttered and heard him chuckle on the other side.

“It’s a legitimate question” you could picture the shrug and a cheeky smile.

It seemed like the initial awkwardness was gone. At least for him.

“I…” you huffed, unable to express the mess of emotions you felt.

“Oh, I know it’s you, but I’m asking about me and dear Jasper”

If he were in front of you, you would have punched him. But instead could only let out a frustrated groan and attempt to answer the question. There was only one way to do it.

“You” you mumbled, making sure your voice was barely coherent.

But of course, he heard you.

“I’m flattered” he had the smug tone nailed to the t.

“Fantastic” you sighed “Why did you call me?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice”

“Right”

“And to get you to answer the question”

“Of course” you sighed again “Now I should finish before Jasper barges in” That was partially an excuse, partially a real concern as you glanced nervously at the thin doors separating the rooms.

“Sure, don’t want you upsetting your husband. However, I’d love to see his face when he hears that I kiss better than him” Neil mused, and you gave yourself the liberty to just listen to his voice.

“Well, I’m not telling him that so feel free to do so when you meet up”

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Surely Jasper would not eavesdrop on you…?

“I’ve got to go, bye Neil” you hoped your tone sounded at least half as urgent as you felt.

“Goodbye, love. Don’t let that idiot get to you”

“I’ll try”

You hung up just as the doors to the bedroom opened. Sure enough, Jasper was stood there, with a scowl on his face.

“What were you doing?”

“Just being pathetic, I guess” you shrugged and walked past him without a glance.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

[writeroutoftime]

birthday

pairing: john shelby x reader

summary: it’s you birthday and when the love of your life and your family forget your birthday, you aren’t sure how to react 

warnings: none 

words: 1745

a/n: I wrote this story for @smallheathgangsters​, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEAH!! Thank you for being the wonderful person you are, I truly hope that you had an amazing birthday and that this year brings so many wonderful things your way. I’m so glad to call you a friend, and I hope you enjoy this story - even if it is kinda cheesy!! Best wishes!! 💛

oOoOo

As the morning sun rose across the streets of Birmingham, small peaks of light filtered through your bedroom curtains and dosed you in the morning sunrise. With a yawn and a full body stretch, you reached across the sheets and your eyes shot up at the lack of another body wrapped around yours. Normally, John had at least an arm thrown over your waist, but that morning you only found sheets cool to the touch.  

Moments later you curled back into your blankets and tried to let sleep wash over you once more, no longer confused. Every year on your birthday, without fail, John managed to slip out of bed before you woke up and recruited your children to make you breakfast in bed. While it usually ended with John shooing your child outside while he cleaned up the egg and flour streaked kitchen to prepare something edible, the thought always warmed your heart. 

Though, of course, your children would still find some way to cause mischief before the day had truly began. One year, Katie presented you with a bouquet of wildflowers they had found, and you had struggled to contain your giggles at the sight of the rest of your children’s face and clothes smeared with dirt.

However, when you heard no banging of pots or pans, early morning quarrels between Will and George, and no hushed whispers and giggles as your family attempted to sneak up the stairs to surprise you, worry began to flow through your veins. Quickly, you wrapped your robe around yourself before you padded into the kitchen to find your family.  The only one you could find was John, you sat calmly at the kitchen table, a cup of juice in his hand as he concentrated on the paper spread out in front of him.

“Morning, love.” John greeted coolly when he heard you walk in, not even sparing you a quick glance.

“Morning.” you responded look around, slightly dazed by the sight before you. “Where are the kids?”

John’s voice kept the same, nonchalant, tone as he turned the page of the paper. “Oh, Polly’s watching ‘em today. “

A glimmer of hope bubbled in your chest at your husband’s words. Maybe this had been John’s plan all along – a day alone just for the two of you. It was something you hadn’t the luxury to enjoy in quite a while, and you were well overdue for some quality time with your husband.  “So, any plans for today?” you asked slyly as you walked towards John, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and placing a kiss behind his ear.

“Not really. ‘Less you count Tommy dragging my ass in to work today.” he said with a slight chuckle.

Had he really forgotten? you thought to yourself as you pulled your arms back to wrap around yourself and watched John go about his morning like any other day. The thought made your heart clench, but you decided against speaking up. John had never forgotten your birthday in all the years you had known him, and while that made the fact that he had this year sting a little more, you also decided he was it must have slipped his mind because of how hard Tommy had been working him recently. Besides, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t have other birthdays, perhaps you simply overreacted.  

“Well, I’m off, love.” John told you, offering you a quick peck on the lips before he adjusted his cap and was out the door without another word.  

You were left, stunned, and staring wistfully at the door. With heavy feet you dragged yourself upstairs to prepare for the day, taking the time to bathe and pamper yourself in the way that your life hadn’t allowed you to over the past few weeks. You decided that even if John wasn’t going to spend the day with you, there had to be other’s that remembered, and the day would be celebrated in style.

As the morning wore on, you rung Ada up to see if she would be open to a nice afternoon out to have a birthday lunch and do a little bit of shopping. That hope was quickly crushed when Ada picked up and immediately told you she was late for a shift as the two of you spoke. Polly was just as evasive on the phone, claiming she was taking the kids out and rushed you off the line without wishing you a happy birthday. You didn’t even bother to call the office because you knew if Tommy had called John in, then Arthur and Finn wouldn’t be far behind.

Dejected, you slumped onto the couch with an exasperated sigh and pulled out a book to fill the time, but once you realized you had read the same sentence over and over, you shut the book and decided to walk through the meadow that surrounded your house. When the sun began to set, you made your way back to the still empty house and ran the last stretch of land when you heard the phone’s shrill ring.

“Hello?” you asked, desperate for contact with another person.

“y/n?” Tommy confirmed through the receiver. “You need to come down to the Garrison.” he commanded – no ‘how are you’ no ‘happy fucking birthday,’ just him barking orders, as always.

“Why?” you pressed, the anger finally beginning to boil inside of you.

There was a sigh from Tommy’s end before he responded. “Because John-Boy’s drunk off his ass and needs someone to bring him home.”

“Fine.” you spat and harshly slammed the phone back on its hook.  

The entire walk to the Garrison, you rehearsed the lecture you had for John and any other Shelby member unfortunate enough to cross paths with you. While you first thought you could excuse John’s forgetfulness, knowing that he had abandoned you to get drunk, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Upon reaching the Garrison, however, you noticed the noise that normally flowed from the doors and windows was absent.

Slightly concerned, and with hesitant steps, you made your way to the entrance, cursing yourself for not bringing the small gun John had gifted you so many birthdays ago. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice, you headed into the pub to be meet with a pitch-black room, until -  

“SURPRISE!” you heard from every corner of the pub as the lights were switched on to reveal the Garrison overly decorated with streamers, balloons, and confetti all around.  

Front and center of the crowd stood John with a huge smile on his face, surrounded by all of your children who ran up to hug you. The rest of the Shelby clan stood off to the side clapping and cheering up a storm – even serious, stoic Tommy had a smile on his face as he held Charlie in his arms.

There was a chorus of “Happy Birthday, y/n” as you were led you to a table off to the side with your birthday cake, a handful of presents, and what looked to be handmade cards. You smiled at each and every one of the cards that your children made you and they gave you hugs before Linda ushered them together to take them home for the evening.

It only took a few seconds after that before a drink found its way into your hands as you went around to hug Ada, Polly Arthur, Tommy, and even Finn. They all expressed their sorrow for having to act like they had forgotten the birthday of one of the most important people in their lives, but you assured them this was well worth the suspense. As you tried to converse with some of the other guests at your party, a pair of hands suddenly covered your eyes, resulting in a yelp to pass by your lips.  

“Happy birthday, angel.” John whispered into your ear, and you spun around to face him with a smile on your face.

“You remembered!” you exclaimed and wrapped your arms around John and burying your head in his chest.

The look that crossed his face was slightly guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t enjoy acting like that to you, I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised.” you said and kissed him to let him know that you weren’t mad in the slightest and that it was truly one of the sweetest things someone had done for you in a while.

John pulled away from the kiss after only a few seconds but dragged you off to the private room of the Garrison and told you to sit down. With your head tilted, you watched John as he pulled out a wrapped present from his pocket and handed it to you before he sat down as well.

Eagerly, you tore into the wrapping paper and threw it to the floor before you gasped at what was inside. Inside the small box sat a beautiful, diamond ring that sparkled from all angles, complete with two, smaller peridot stones set on either side of the main diamond. Tears sprung to your eyes as John knelt down in front of you and gentle took the ring out of the box.

“I know we’ve been together for so long, but I did promise you a ring you truly deserved when I was able to buy it.” he reminisced and looked up at you sheepishly.

The memory made you smile and cry a bit more out of happiness. All those years ago when you had found out you were expecting Katie and John proposed, it was with the ring that currently sat on your finger. While you cherished the ring with your whole heart, John never felt it was worth of enough for you and vowed that when he had made a name for himself, he would give you another ring.

“It’s beautiful.” you whispered and allowed him to slip it onto your ring finger, your old ring moving to your right hand until you could find a chain for it.

John lovingly rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone and lifted your hand to brush his lips against your knuckles. “Thank you for being my beautiful, perfect angel. I love you.” he confessed, more than happy to be sappy and emotional in honor of your birthday.

“I love you too.” you told him and grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him once more, looking forward to the many other perfect birthdays you would spend together.  

#john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby imagines #peaky blinders imagines

[bunnyywritings]

you like like me?

teacher!sugawara koushi x gn!reader

day 2: petrichor

word count: 1.8k

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬; 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏 - 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭; 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑

[a/n: alrighty everyone, it’s day 2! Thank you all so much for all the love on my day 1 fic, I’m having a lot of fun with these so far 🥺 enjoy some soft teacher koushi today! ✨taglist is still open✨- yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-

Rainy days were both the best and worst days for you and Sugarawa. It was absolutely adorable to see a bunch of kiddos in their little raincoats and boots. Usually in a bright yellow, there would be the occasional odd color or a kitty cat raincoat but it was adorable all the same. Though it was a pain to keep the kids inside because they wanted to run around outside in the puddles and slosh around in the mud.

You remembered how long it took you to come up with the lesson plan for today but it was all thrown out the window when the morning was gloomy and gray, and the weather forecast had an 80% chance of rain. That meant the day would be cut shorter and it would be filled with movies, coloring pages, and fun activities. Not that you really minded, a rainy day was basically a break from the daily stress of having to rangle up a bunch of toddlers and teach them their vowels.

It was also a big plus for you because that meant Mr.Suga would be wearing an adorable oversized hoodie or cardigan.

It’s not that you thought he was cute or anything...it’s just an observation.

Yeah, you definitely didn’t have feelings for your fellow kindergarten teacher. You just happened to remember that he wasn’t much a coffee drinker when you had stopped to get some coffee and got him a hot chocolate.You were already there anyways…your thoughts trailed off as you walked through the door that conjoined your classrooms and saw him sitting at his desk and typing away on his laptop.

Yup, it was a cardigan...in a soft pink.

Oh who were you kidding! You were absolutely whipped for him. As you should be.

“Good morning (y/n)!” You jumped just a bit, startled out of your thoughts.

“G-Good morning Koushi, I uhm-” You swallowed down the butterflies that threatened to escape. “I got you a hot chocolate on my way over, since it’s c-cold out a-and all.”

He grinned while watching as the blush on your cheeks deepened, physically having to stop himself from cooing at your timid nature.

“Ahh you didn’t have to.” He stood up and made his way over to you, reaching for the cup. As he did this, his fingers brushed against your slightly colder ones. His breath caught in his throat as tingles ran up his arm, in that moment he was thinking that maybe all those cheesy romance novels and movies were onto something. “I really appreciate it.” He took a sip of the sweet drink, humming in satisfaction as warmed his body.

As you two started to talk, he subconsciously started to think about the strange relationship between the both of you. You had been working as the sole kindergarten teacher at the school before the second position opened up and he had arrived.

He was received with a very unwelcome attitude by the other faculty. They were not very thrilled to have a twenty something year old, fresh out of university, taking the job of a dear friend. He had found solace in the confines of your classroom, having gone to you to vent about how rude someone had been to him while in the break room. Because of that one venting session, the both of you would eat lunch together in yours or his classroom. Often talking about joint lessons your classes could do or fun things the both of you could do out of school hours.

Your guys’ students 100% shipped the both of you. The number of times he had caught his students singing ‘teacher (y/n) and Suga sitting in a tree! K.I.S.S.I.N.G!’ was slightly concerning yet amusing. He quite liked the idea of being in a relationship with you. He had actually caught himself daydreaming about how that would go. How you would feel in his arms, how your hand would fit in his...if your lips were as soft and kissable as he thought they would…-

“So? How does that sound?” His stomach dropped with guilt as he realized that he had completely ignored everything you had said but the hopeful glint in your eye was too adorable to overlook.

“Y-yes! That sounds perfect!” He hoped you hadn’t noticed the hesitation in his voice.

“Great!” You grinned happily, “I’m thinking of starting the movie after we head over to the library?”

His shoulders relaxed as he was filled in the missing info. “Good plan. That’s when we usually have snack time.”

Once the bell rang and you walked through the door and into your classroom, he found himself looking forward to this rainy day.

Before you knew it, library time was over and you were walking your students back to the classroom, giggling as a few of them took the liberty of jumping around in the shallow puddles. Gently reprimanding them for being a little reckless.

As you watched them go back into the classroom and counting each one, you took a deep breath. The smell of petrichor a calming scent.

While explaining how the joint movie time was, Suga had looked out the window and caught sight of you. You had inhaled deeply, before exhaling with a soft smile on your lips. He remembered when you told him how much you enjoyed the smell of fresh rain. He thought it was adorable, the way your eyes lit up with excitement as you talked about the petrichor candle you had bought.

“Mr. Suga?” A little voice broke him from his thoughts, turning back to the kids, he nodded at her.

“Do you like teacher (y/n)?”

“Well of course I do, teacher (y/n) is a dear friend of mine.” He smiled.

“No! Not like that!” the little boy seemed exasperated as he shook his head. “Do you like like teacher (y/n)?”

‘Ah, they were catching onto him.’

“Well, you see-” before he could finish his sentence, there was a knock on the connecting door before it opened and you peeked in.

“I’ve got everything set up for the movie Mr. Suga, just in case you were ready to join us.” He could tell that you were using your “teacher voice” because it was significantly a little gentler than your normal voice, and the way you had said ‘Mr. Suga’ was doing unexplainable things to his heart.

Trying so desperately to hide the blush that was threatening to expose his true thoughts, he turned to the class. “Alright kiddos! Who’s ready for movie time?”

The previous conversation was completely disregarded, much to his relief, as they all shouted in excitement and bounded into your classroom. Joining their friends on the various pillows, bean bag chairs, and blankets you had set up. As he followed behind them and walked through the door, the smell of freshly popped popcorn filled his senses

“God that smells good.” He groaned in exaggerated appreciation, reveling in the laughter it had roused out of your beautiful lips.

Once everyone was settled in with their snacks and apple juice, the movie began and he settled in on the reading couch. The pounding of his heart was deafening as you sat down beside him. The compact size of the couch had caused his thigh to be flush against yours but you didn’t seem to mind one bit as you turned and smiled at him, handing him a juice box.

The unanimous choice was for Alice in Wonderland. Everyone was completely entranced by the movie.

Everyone but you. If anything, you had a hard time keeping your eyes open.

The ambience was perfect enough to lull you to sleep. The sound of the pitter-pattering rain against the windows, the slight chill of the classroom, and the warmth emanating from the man beside you. It took everything in your being to not wrap yourself around him and snuggle.

Maybe the universe was on your side because as you felt your eyelids start to droop, a pair of lips brushed against your ear. “You can lay on my shoulder if you’d like. I can watch everyone while you rest.”

You hummed gratefully and leaned on him, your eyes shutting almost instantly. Naturally, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. Heart almost bursting in his chest as you subconsciously nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck. You fit perfectly into him, almost as if you were meant to, like a puzzle piece.

As the movie went on, more than half the students had joined you in dream land and by the end of the movie, they were all far off in the clouds. He carefully got up so as to not wake you and situated you so you were laying down properly. Absolutely melting when you had reached out for him in your sleep, pout on your lips.

Taking this little free time to his advantage, he used it to call parents to inform them to pick up their kids from your classroom’s exit because of the movie time turned nap time situation. When he was sone, the bell had rung and parents had started to pick up their sleepy kiddos.

“(y/n)~” He gently shook you, calling your name a few more times before your eyes finally opened. You yawned and blinked a few times, eyes roaming the empty classroom. Your drowsy brain took a few seconds to analyze what was going on before your eyes widened and you sat up straight as an arrow.

“Where are the-”

“Don’t worry, I handled the pick up situation. I wanted you to rest...you seemed like you needed it.”

“Oh...thank you.” You looked away, a raging blush taking your cheeks hostage.

“You’ve got a pretty cheeky bunch.” He chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “A few of ‘em woke up when the bell rang and they were hounding me about when me and you were going to confess our undying love to each other.”

“Yeah, sounds about right. I can’t go a day without them asking if I like like you.”

Feeling a rush of confidence, he leaned down close to you. His nose gently brushing yours. “Well...do you?” He whispered. Eyes quickly flitting down to your lips before going back to gazing into your eyes.

“I’d say that I do like like you...Mr. Suga.”

“That’s a relief, cause I like like you too.” There was a small beat of silence.”Can I-?”

“You can.” You whispered.

He cupped your jaw and brought you closer to him before your lips timidly met his. Experimentally moving along with his before getting a hang of it and reaching forward to grasp the fabric of his cardigan and pull him in closer, head tilting to deepen the kiss. A soft moan leaving his lips as you both pulled away. Foreheads resting against each other.

“Teacher (y/n) and Suga sitting in a tree. K.i.s.s.i.n.g…” he sang quietly.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 (open): @soul-of-rwby @randomesk-yuku

#sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koshi x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu fluff #fluffvember 2020 #fluffvember

[shortprince-cos]

The Woes Of An Emo

Summary: Virgil tries to take advice, but apparently he's not good at that either. Also, dash of Patton angst.

Warnings: Swearing, slight panic. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

{Masterlist} {Previous}

Chapter 3: Emotional Support Friend

~~~~~

Virgil was nervous as hell.

He was going to talk to someone he barely knows, vent about two guys, and ask for some kind of advice. Why? Because Virgil has no friends and is desperate for help.

Virgil walked into art class with his hands shoved far into the void that is his pockets. He saw Patton Hart sitting in his usual seat, right next to Virgil's.

With a deep breath, Virgil sat down next to Patton.

"Hey Virgil! ...You ok?" Oh god, was it that obvious?

"Oh- um..." Virgil tried to think of some kind of lie, but he knew he needed help with this situation, and Patton was the only option he had. "You want the honest answer?"

Patton looked a little concerned, but put on a soft smile for Virgil. "Of course! Whatever you need to talk about, I'm always right here, ok?"

God, how was Patton this supportive to someone he barely knows?

Virgil held his head in his hands, which were propped on the desk, and took a deep breath before continuing. "I need...advice, and you're really the only person I can go to right now. I know that sounds pathetic, but my parents would get overly excited and my only friend is part of the problem, so...?"

Patton looked surprised, but still comforting and supportive. "Oh! Well, what do you need advice on?"

Virgil sighed again. "There's-" The school bell always had the worst timing. Virgil let his head fall to his desk.

"Virge, we can talk at lunch if you still need it?"

"Yes please."

---

The first three periods flew by pretty fast, much to Virgil's relief.

Virgil took a quick scan of the lunchroom to see Patton enthusiastically waving at him from across the cafeteria. One part of him was embarrassed of all the people that could see that, though, he didn't know why he would be embarrassed. Another part of him was happy that someone treated him like a best friend that they'd had for years. It was welcoming.

That's how he would describe Patton! Someone who was welcoming of almost anyone, like a human version of 'home'.

He walked over to Patton's lunch table to find that Patton was sitting alone. Virgil always thought that Patton would be the one that everyone would want to hang around with, but turns out that maybe he was wrong.

Maybe that's why Patton was always so friendly. He was trying to make a friend too.

Virgil sat down next to Patton and opened his lunch box, eating and hoping to prolong the inevitable conversation. Patton seemed to pick up on this and started eating his lunch as well.

After a couple minutes of comfortable silence -well, as silent as a full lunchroom could be- then Virgil decided that he should probably talk about what he came here to talk about.

"So...I guess I need advice on..." Virgil took another deep breath. "Two guys."

"As in, they're mean to you, or, you have a crush on them?"

Virgil groaned, then buried his head in his arms, almost becoming one with the table. "Crush."

"Aww Virgil! That's great! Who are they?"

Virgil brought his head back up to look at Patton. "No, it's terrible! I...I only have a crush on one, but he has a boyfriend already, and the other guy asked me on a date, and I said 'YES' FOR SOME REASON!"

"Oh. So...you're stuck with a boy you don't want to be with?" Patton questioned with concerned eyes.

Virgil thought for a moment. "Well...Roman isn't that bad, but, I feel like I'm kind of 'betraying' Princey, if you get what I mean."

"...Princey?" Oh crap. Now Virgil would have to tell Patton that he has a crush on someone he met online and Patton would think he's a friendless weirdo and he would hate him and Virgil would never have a real life friend and he won't help Virgil with his problem and-

"Virgil, breathe for me." Patton had put a hand on Virgil's in an attempt to calm him down, and it was working.

Virgil got his breathing under control and looked back at Patton, instead of the table that he had been staring at for who knows how long. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's ok! It's my fault for asking, I'm the one who should be saying sorry. So, sorry." Patton looked a little guilty, clearly feeling bad for asking about Princey.

"Thanks, Pat. But I guess I owe you some kind of explanation." Virgil hesitated before deciding to continue. "Princey...is my online friend. I also have a crush on him. I know it sounds weird but-"

“Virge, before you continue, please only tell me if you want to! I would hate you to regret this later, and you don’t owe me anything kiddo! I’m your friend, not your bookie.”

Virgil took another breath, weighing his options. "Ok."

So, Virgil told him everything. Well, not everything, but most of his strange situation.

---

He walked into theatre class and prayed that Roman wouldn't be there for whatever reason. But, of course, Roman was there. Wonderful.

Roman was talking to some other actors in the corner of the room, clearly in his element.

The room was actually called 'The black box' because the walls were painted black, and for whatever other reasons the theatre industry decided to call it that. In the center of the room had a circle of chairs instead of desks, probably so moving them for theatre warm ups would be easier.

Virgil quickly put his hood up to avoid being spotted by Roman, and sat facing the opposite direction.

Eventually, the bell rung, and class began.

In the corner of his eye, he saw someone with a white jean jacket sit down next to him. The jacket was basically non-existent thanks to the many patches covering most of it, and Virgil realized that he had definitely seen this jacket before.

Crap.

"Hey, Virgil! How are you?" ​Roman asked casually, smiling wide. God, stop being so cute!

Wait, 'cute'?!

"I'm...fine." Very convincing. "You?"

Roman immediately brightened. "I'm amazing! The cast list for the musical is being announced today, and I'm fairly certain that I got the lead!" Roman practically bounced in his seat while explaining; clearly excited about the news.

Of course, Virgil knew that Roman would get the lead -he's gotten every lead since freshman year- but that didn't stop the small smile that spread on Virgil's face when he saw how Roman basically glowed with anticipation.

'No, stop. Don't get excited. We're breaking his heart today, remember?' He told himself.

Virgil swallowed down the guilt that was creeping up in his throat. Or maybe that was vomit. "Roman...about the date tomorrow?" Virgil started, already wincing at the thought of breaking this poor boy's heart.

Roman lit up again. "Yeah?"

Virgil was about to open his mouth when the teacher decided to start the class, splitting the techs and the actors.

Virgil was mortified. Today is Friday, meaning the date was tomorrow, meaning he just lost his only chance today to cancel the date.

He had to go on the date. Oh god.

Fourth period was long over by the time Virgil had gotten his thoughts in order. He needed an actual plan. He couldn't go through with the date. No way. He didn't want to lead Roman on, but he also didn't want to break his heart.

Oh god, what should he do?

Patton. He needed to talk to Patton again. Or else he just might explode.

~~~~~

{Next}

What is this, round two of Virgil panicking his way through planning canceling his date? Guess we'll have to wait till next week to see round three!

Edit: FORGOT TO THANK @foreverfangirlalways FOR HELP WITH SOME OF THE DIALOG!

Taglist in reblog

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #kawaiikat54 fic #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #prinxiety fic #prinxiety #twoae fic #the woes of an emo fic

[visceraah]

Intrulogical week day 7- Free day

“Smoking causes an extremely damaging buildup of tar in your lungs and, in some cases, cancer.”

Remus licked the edge of it, rolling it up without even looking at Logan. “Maybe I like choking.”

So that was how it was. Logan shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked. “You are aware we’ll have to act as though we like each other for this, yes?”

“You’re saying you don’t like me?” Remus pouted. If Logan didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he saw a flicker of hurt on his face… But whatever it was, it was gone in an instant. “Why, that completely changes things.”

“I am saying, we must act like a couple.” Logan corrected, unimpressed.

-

Or, a ridiculously self indulgent fake dating AU

AO3

Content warnings: homophobia, cannibalism mention, smoking, and the usual for innuendos.

Logan wanted to punch something.

Ordinarily, he was not a violent man. He believed resolving your issues with fists was an outlet for those too unintelligent to properly articulate themselves.

He also believed, had he spent any more time in that room, he would have tried to pummel his father to a pulp.

Hands shaking with rage, he pulled out his phone. It took a few tries to click the correct number, and he slowly raised it to his ear.

“Logan?” Pattons’ voice was full of concern and, for the first time in years, he wanted to cry. He didn’t trust his voice, but apparently his silence was enough. “We’re on our way.”

-

“Allow me to duel them!”

Romans anger might have been sweet at first, but it was beginning to wear thin. Logan rolled his eyes. “Even if I believed they would accept, violence solves nothing.”

“But they deserve it.” Roman muttered, sitting back down dejectedly.

“Hey, no mister! Violence is bad.” Patton reprimanded, although even he wasn’t too firm. Nobody was the biggest fan of Logans’ parents right now.

“I was expecting this. They have expressed their… distaste, for gay people. It was foolish to expect any other kind of reaction.” Logan tried, hating how his voice shook as he spoke.

Patton put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re their son, Lo, it wasn’t fo-”

“I’ve got it!” Roman declared loudly, startling the other two. Patton opened his mouth but Logan, glad for the shift of focus from his emotions (... because that was uncomfortable), shook his head.

“You take home to them the worst boyfriend ever! Fake, that is. He can be rude and dismissive and swear-y and the total opposite to a gentleman. That way, when you actually bring home a boy you like, they’ll be so relieved it’s not.. That.. and have no choice but to accept him!”

Patton clapped politely. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if I consented, what makes you think this would work?”

“Oh, trust me. It’ll work.” Roman told him confidently, and Patton leant over to whisper “I’m convinced.”

What was he getting himself into?

“... I assume you have the perfect delinquent in mind.”

Roman grinned.

-

“What do you want, fuckwaffles?”

Roman spluttered, and Logan was already regretting this. The ‘delinquent’ in mind had been his twin, and even though Logan had been his friend once… That was a long time ago. He barely recognised the boy in front of him, lounging on bench and smoking what he sincerely hoped was just tobacco.

Logan figured he would cut to the chase, to spare any more stupidity. “Allow me to be frank- I recently informed my parents I was gay.” Remus seemed to perk up at that. “They did not take it well. Your brother seems to think pretending to date the worst possible influence will persuade them to accept a less abrasive boy, and I… Am out of other ideas.”

“That sucks.” Remus said, sincerely, and took a drag from his cigarette. “But I’m not interested. Fanfic rules say if you fake date, you fall for each other or whatever, and no offense Specs, but I don’t wanna bang a nerd.”

Logans brow furrowed. “Fanfic..?”

“Yeah, you know- works of ‘fanmade fiction’. Where you have a hard on for some made up guy and write about him fucking a different character you project onto. Ro writes it all the time.”

“I do not write smut!” Roman said indignantly, going red.

“I know.” Remus sighed sadly. “That’s why your fics suck.”

Logan was pretty sure they were speaking another language, but he decided to power through. Whatever they were saying, it didn’t seem too important. “It’ll be purely professional.” Logan reassured him. And, because he was a little desperate… “And I can pay.”

Remus stared at him for a long minute, before finally putting out his cigarette on the bench. Logan cringed at the burn mark it left on the wood. “My first job as a male escort… Fine.”

Roman sighed in relief, and Logan nodded, sticking his hand out. Remus eyed it, then spat onto his palm and slapped it against Logans, giving it an unnecessarily tight shake.

Logan didn’t bother to hide his disgust, making note to wash his hands ASAP. Remus just grinned back at him.

“I’ll bring a spliff. When dya need me?”

Ah. Logan cringed “... Now.”

“Lucky for you, my evening’s free. We should probably get a story straight, first though- you wanna go for a walk?”

What choice did Logan have? He nodded curtly, and they started the walk in silence. He heard Remus drag out a sigh, and glanced over to see him pulling out some paper and starting to roll himself another cigarette. He frowned disapprovingly.

“Smoking causes an extremely damaging buildup of tar in your lungs and, in some cases, cancer.”

Remus licked the edge of it, rolling it up without even looking at Logan. “Maybe I like choking.”

So that was how it was. Logan shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked. “You are aware we’ll have to act as though we like each other for this, yes?”

“You’re saying you don’t like me?” Remus pouted. If Logan didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he saw a flicker of hurt on his face… But whatever it was, it was gone in an instant. “Why, that completely changes things.”

“I am saying, we must act like a couple.” Logan corrected, unimpressed.

“So you do like me?” Remus teased, elbowing Logan in the side. “But… Alright. We hooked up at that gig down The Crown the other week- naturally, I was the top- and it’s been non-stop sex ever since. Happy?”

“I am not telling my parents any of that.” Logan said firmly. Once, he would have blushed at that, but he knew by now better than to take Remus’ words at face value.

“Why?” Remus tucked his cigarette behind his ear- just to crown the ‘troublemaker’ look, Logan supposed. Smoking was repulsive and all, but… It did kind of suit him. “Chose it cause you were there- don’t want them to know you go out?”

“No, actually. Whilst that was not my primary issue with your suggestion, it is not a detail they know, or I intend on sharing with them.”

Remus stared at him, and he shifted awkwardly under his gaze. “You didn’t tell them?”

“You… Remember what they are like.” Logan reminded him. “Can you blame me?”

Remus nodded, but for some reason he was still looking at him. “How’d you avoid getting caught, then?”

“Some of us are good at it.” Logan replied with a smirk

Remus gasped and elbowed him again. “Fuck off. Not my fault my parents don’t trust me!”

“I sincerely believe it is.”

Remus laughed, and Logan couldn’t help watching him. For someone so harsh, he was… Cute. He blushed when he was caught looking at him, quickly shaking his head and looking away.

Remus didn’t like silence, though, no matter how comfortable. It didn’t take long for him to open his mouth again. “What happened to us?”

Logan turned to look at him inquisitively, waiting for him to continue.

“I mean…” Remus seemed to hesitate, almost embarrassed. Huh. Logan hadn’t thought he could get embarrassed. “We used to be mates, yknow? We talked about weird shit together, like- fuck, I don’t know, how tigers have spikes on their dick.”

Logan snorted at that. “I suppose we did.”

And the silence was back. It didn’t feel right, though- Logan knew there was more to say, so, reluctantly, he explained, “We were just… Very different. I was interested in my studies, you were interested in…”

“Eh, I get it.” Remus dismissed before he could even finish. “M’a bad influence- couldn’t have the model student associating with me.”

Logan frowned, looking over at Remus. “I don’t see why that should be the case.”

Remus startled, almost dropping his cigarette. He seemed shocked, and Logan almost smiled.

Before either of them could try and make sense of this strangely emotional moment, though, Logan had stopped walking and turned to look at the nearest house. They were there, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“... I am unsure if I can do this.” Logan admitted, taking a step back. He felt a weight on his shoulder, and looked up to see Remus’ hand. It was strangely comforting.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be the worst boyfriend you could ask for.”

Logan snorted and took a deep breath, holding out his hand. When Remus just stared at it, he explained, “To sell it.”

Remus made a small ‘ah’ of understanding, linking their hands and walking forwards with him.

Before he even had the chance, Remus rung the doorbell for him. Once, then again, and again and again and-

His mother opened the door angrily. “Logan, that’s immature and, quite frankly, rather idiotic.” Her eyes landed on Remus and they narrowed. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, I’m Remus. Pogan’s boyfriend.”

Her eye twitched. “That isn’t- Logan, can I have a word?”

Logan, who had until now just been watching in fascination- Remus really did have this down- subconsciously straightened his back. “Yes mother?”

“Alone.”

“Oh, anything you can say to him, you can say to me.” Remus supplied, leaning on the doorframe. “You gonna let us in or what?”

The colour drained from his mothers face and, if he weren’t so nervous, Logan would be genuinely impressed. “I have invited him back for dinner. I hope that’s alright.”

The look on her face said it very much wasn’t, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. She stepped back, forcing a thin-lipped smile to her face. “Of course.”

“Sick.” Remus walked straight past her, dragging Logan with him. “What’re we eating, then?”

“Pie. Your father will be home soon.” She said, message clear as she turned on her heel and left the room.

“I’m a vegan, so leave out any meat!” Remus yelled after her, before shooting Logan a grin. “How much more of a Karen could she be?”

Logan let out a surprised snort. “I must admit, you have this down.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started~”

Logan doubted Remus could get any worse than this, but a large part of him was rather excited to see him try.

-

Remus got so, so much worse. He insisted on sitting on Logans lap despite the whole sofa being free- and he did not blush because of it. Nope- and spoke loudly about how much he wanted to smoke.

When Logans father arrived, the ‘couple’ were met with a stare of confusion and, after a whisper in his ear from his mother, a glare. He cleared his throat. Logan looked up, but Remus just fiddled with a lock of his hair- something that definitely didn’t make him blush, either. His father cleared his throat again, and Remus seemed to acknowledge him.

“Oh, hi. You must be… Pat?”

“Matt.” He snapped, and Logan realised just how well it worked to get someones name wrong. “Aren’t you that kid Logan used to hang around? Real trouble maker, always in detention.”

“Sure am- guess you could say Lo and I have a long history.”

It was honestly impressive how pissed he looked already. Logan squirmed but, before this could get any worse, there was a loud bang behind them. Everyone turned to look, just in time to see his mother slam the plates down onto the table. “Dinner.”

Logan watched in awe as Remus strode up to the table and seated himself at the head, awkwardly shuffling after him. He saw his parents exchange a look, but they thankfully sat down, too.

The next few minutes were painfully quiet. His mother served up the food in a way that could only be described as aggressive, and his father glared at the wall ahead of him.

“You guys read Titus Andronicus?” Of course it was Remus to break the silence. When Logan realised nobody else would reply, and he’d have to continue… Whatever this conversation was, he shook his head.

“The Shakespeare play? I am afraid not.”

“Oh, shame.” Remus picked at the food. “This Roman war criminal, Titus, brings back like four prisoners whose family he brutalised and whatever. They’re kindaaa pissed so, as revenge, they kill a couple his sons and mutilate his daughter. He finds out and kills them, then cooks them into a pie and serves it to their mother. He’s killed by the emperor or whatever, but that’s not important. This just… Reminded me of that.” He poked the pie again.

Logans mother actually turned green. “I… Thought you were a vegan.” Was all she could think to say, thoroughly disgusted.

“That’s the thing about vegans!” Remus jiggled his fork in her direction. “We won’t eat animals or animal products, yeah? But we eat human products. Soooo, by that logic, we could eat a person, too.”

“Are you saying you’re a cannibal?” Logans father asked coldly, speaking for the first time since they sat down.

Remus shrugged in a way that concerned even Logan. “Just a hypothetical.”

“This boy’s a maniac.” Logan heard his mother mutter, and his fist curled around his cutlery. His knuckles turned white.

“Don’t.”

Everyone looked at Logan in surprise, Remus included, and he found himself going red- not from embarrassment, but anger.

“Excuse me? You bring a fucking… Deviant, like this, into our house, and then you have the nerve to speak to your mother like that? Apologise, right now.” Logans father snarled. He clutched the cutlery tighter.

“Only if she does.”

“This, uh, really isn’t necessary-” Remus whispered to him, cut off by a shrill laugh.

“That’s the first thing you’ve said all day to make any sense.” His mother spat.

“Probably.” Remus agreed, easily, and Logan stood up suddenly. His chair clattered to the ground.

“Don’t agree with them.”

Logans mother glared up him. “You sit down and stop this right this second”

For the first time in his life, Logan ignored her. “We are leaving.” He said coldly, grabbing Remus by the arm and storming out.

-

The second they were out of sight of the house, he stopped walking. He shut his eyes, pressed his back to the nearest wall, and slid down against it. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone until Remus’ voice, uncharacteristically soft, called out “Lo..?”

He looked up, wiping at his eyes. “Apologies. That- none of it was fair on you.”

“What? No, I don’t give a shit about that. I signed up for it.” Remus dropped down next to him. “More concerned about you.”

“... Me?”

“Yeah, that was fuckin rough- just give the word and I’ll feed ‘em to the pigs, because damn.”

Logan laughed, a half sniffle. “I believe the phrase is ‘feed them to the fish’.”

“Well that’s stupid. Everyone knows you feed bodies to pigs.”

Logan decided not to question that… Instead, he hesitantly leant into Remus’ side. To his surprise, the other boy put an arm around him. “Specs?” He asked, after a minute.

“Hmm?” Logan shifted a little to meet Remus’ gaze.

“How come ya reacted so badly?”

Ah. Logan swallowed. He wasn’t too sure himself, really, but… “They had no right to speak to you like that.”

Remus stared at him quizzically, and Logan found himself meeting his gaze. They stayed like that, for longer than Logan cared to measure, before Remus finally asked, “Can I kiss you?”

For some reason, the question didn’t take Logan by surprise. He nodded and, grinning, Remus brought his mouth down to meet his.

#woOP #day 7 and finally #finally i write a decent length one #sdkjsdkd 2714 words baybeeee #smoking / #intrulogicalweek2020 #intrulogical #remus sanders #the duke #logan sanders #logan logic sanders #day 7: free day #day seven free day #mads' writing

[quicksiluers]

librarian/avid reader au or the costars au (whichever hasn't been asked yet... and it's okay if you do just one of these 🙈🙈)

I went with the librarian/avid reader au for grant and sherman! that wone came to me a bit easier and I had some fun with it :) and plus! a bonus Thomas appearance! and I guess you can make it a college au too...cause I missed the two lol

Again, it's over 1,000 words so it goes under the cut~~

Sherman’s chin rested in the palm of his hand, eyes staring out the far window of the building. The street lights had flickered on about half-hour ago, so he estimated it was about six o’clock. Which meant his shift at the library ended in an hour. Mercifully.

There were numerous jobs on campus that he could have taken. A majority of his friends worked up at the athletic center, setting up the recreational sports that the other students could sign up for. He had waited too long to apply for those positions and ended up with his backup. At first, he didn’t mind it. At the beginning of the year, the library was a popular spot with students. But as it got deeper into the semester, the area became almost too quiet. When things were too quiet, it made him nervous. He knew it would pick up again towards the end with finals and everyone rushing to complete papers or projects. Sometimes he thought about quitting and looking for another avenue to get some extra money.

The chime library entrance rung through the air and he turned his gaze towards the entrance. A small smile tugged on his face at the familiar figure.

Grant combed his hand through his hair, seemingly muttering to himself about some leaves that were caught in the locks. His blue eyes caught Sherman’s gaze and he gave him a small wave, which Sherman tried not to return too eagerly. The young man turned and walked down an aisle, disappearing behind the books.

He had noticed the brunette coming frequently the first month after classes started in. At first, Sherman thought he was in some advanced literature class with the number of books he was taking out. He always came up with at least two or three, which made Sherman pity him. How could professors be assigning out so much so early in the year? If he had a professor like that, he’d have dropped that class within the first week.

Then he was walking around the campus with Thomas one day and noticed Grant sitting under a tree. The new book, which he just checked out the night before (that that Sherman remembered), seemed like it was already halfway finished. When he mentioned it to his friend, Thomas had raised an eyebrow at him with a small smile.

“I’m in the same literature class with Grant and we’ve only been assigned two books so far this semester.”

“What?” Sherman asked in disbelief, “B-but he comes into the library almost every other day for more books!”

“Maybe,” Thomas countered teasingly, “He just enjoys reading a lot.”

Since then, Sherman has paid more attention to the younger man when he roamed around the library aisles. He would ask about the books when Grant presented them for check out and he couldn’t look away as the brunette went through each one, describing the genre, plots, and themes. Slowly, Sherman started to pay more attention to Grant’s voice, the way he moved and expressed himself, than the content of the books he was talking about.

He wanted to impress Grant, but he knew little to nothing about any particular book. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any interest. He just...didn’t have the time to sit down for a long period and read. It made him feel itchy. Desperate, he went to Thomas for assistance.

“What’s a really good book for someone who’s really into reading?”

Thomas had looked up from his laptop, eyebrow raised, “Any particular reason why you’re asking?”

Sherman had felt himself flush, knowing how stupid the question was, “N-no I was...someone was asking at the library the other day…”

“Is this someone a certain brunette who likes to read a lot?”

“You know what Tom…,” Sherman grumbled, throwing a pillow at him. His friend grabbed it, rolling his eyes slightly, and placed it at his feet. The redhead had turned away, opening up his own laptop. If his friend wouldn’t be helpful…

“Don’t get all pouty Cump…”

“Well, if you’re not going to be helpful Tom.”

Sighing, Thomas sat back in his seat and watched Sherman, who didn’t look his way, “Why don’t you just find a book you like and recommend it to Grant?”

“Because I don’t read Tom, and Grant seems like he has really good tast-” he stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing he said Grant’s name. He glared up at his friend, who smiled knowingly at him, “That wasn’t fair.”

“It’s fair when you’re obvious about it,” Thomas pointed out. Standing up, he walked over to his own bookshelf and ran his fingers along the spines of them, “I don’t think I have anything that he would like...you would know his taste more.”

“How’s that?” Sherman asked, scrolling through a list of popular books. None of them popped out to him.

“Sherman, you can’t be serious,” Thomas turned and looked at him, shaking his head, “You see all the books he checks out. I’m sure you can find a theme.”

The next time he was at the counter, Sherman tried to look up any logs that were available to him and would provide a list of the previous books Grant had checked out. Each time he tried, he ended up with nothing.

Which was how he found himself when Grant walked through the door and down an aisle. How would he even impress him? Grant seemed like he read every book that was available. There wasn’t something Shemrna could provide him that would catch his interest.

Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and flipped through the packet his professor had provided them. Why he was teaching them the mechanics of how to work a pulley was beyond him. When would he ever need that kind of information?

He kept losing focus, looking up ever so often to see if he could spot Grant walking along the aisles. There was no sign of the brunette.

“Sherman?”

The redhead jumped up, the chair he sat in clattering to the floor. He turned, his heart racing, and stared down at Grant’s shocked expression. The brunette blinked a few times before putting a hand over his mouth, muffling a laugh. Sherman felt like his face was on fire.

“D-dammit Grant, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” he grumbled, picking up the chair from the floor. He checked it over before turning back to the brunette, who had collected himself enough that he was only smiling.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you were so…,” he paused, laughing lightly before schooling his expression, “On edge? Or so focused. Either works.”

Sherman’s heart felt like it was doing flips with all the smiles and laughter. “Yeah well...someone has to focus on studying.”

“True…,” he conceded as he placed two books on the counter, “But sometimes studying can get a bit… boring.”

“I was going to say tedious.”

Grant smiled again, nodding, “That as well.”

“Only two books tonight?” Sherman asked, looking over the titles. One looked like it was about horses which didn’t surprise him. Grant was one of the best equestrians at the university. The other one left Sherman cold, the title unfamiliar, and the cover a plain blue. Seemed like an older book.

“I still have one I’m finishing up,” answered Grant, crossing his arms. That caught Sherman’s attention. He had never seen him do that. And his face seemed to be a bit flushed.

“I actually wanted to show you a book that I thought you may like,” the words tumbled out of Grant. It took Sherman a second to realize what he had said.

He blinked a few times, confused, “Why didn’t you bring it up to show me?”

The young man opened his mouth, but closed it before speaking again, “I wasn’t sure you’d like it...so I thought it would easier to show you...if I could?”

Looking around, there were no other students that had entered while they had been speaking. It wouldn’t hurt for him to be away from the front desk for a few moments.

“I don’t see the harm in it.”

He followed Grant through the aisles, going deeper into the shelves than he thought they would. They stopped in the back corner, in what Sherman knew to be the mystery/thriller section. Grant’s back was to him, his fingers trailing along with the books. Sherman stared, his mind wandering before he quickly shut down those thoughts. He felt heat rushing to his face and he cursed himself. How could he even think that if he couldn’t tell the other man he liked him?

“Here,” Grant turned around and smiled up at him, “It’s a mystery that has historical aspects, which I thought you’d like.”

Sherman laughed a bit at the title, “Inferno?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, “Everyone seems to think I love fire…”

With no response, Sherman flipped the book over to read the back. It didn’t sound too bad. His chest tightened at the thought of Grant looking for a book specifically for him. Looking up, he was taken aback by the flush on the other man’s face.

“Gran-”

The smaller man took a step toward him, one of his hands finding Sherman’s cheek. His other hand went onto his shoulder and Grant pulled him down, his lips lighting pressing to his own.

Sherman dropped the book, the thud seemingly shocking the brunette from his action. He pulled away, his eyes wide, “Sherman, I-I didn’t-”

His lips found Grant’s, his hands finding his hips and pulling him closer. He felt the brunette gasp against his lips before melting into the kiss. They moved slowly, trying to become familiar with the feeling. Grant’s fingers found their way into his hair, Sherman humming at the touch. Their lips parted, blue eyes looking up at him. His head felt like it was buzzing.

“Did…,” Sherman tried to catch his breath, easing his racing heart, “Did you...just bring me back to kiss me?”

“No...well I mean,” Grant stuttered, his cheeks burning, “Yes and no? I did...think you would like the book but also...I did want to kiss you. So...a mix of both.”

He stared down at him for a moment before laughing, pulling the brunette closer, and hugging him. Grant yelped, his face pressed into Sherman’s shoulder, and wrapped his arms aroudn the taller man.

“I can’t believe you,” he laid his forehead on the top of Grant’s head, “And here I was trying to think of a way to impress you with a book!”

He felt Grant laugh against him, though his words were muffled. Sherman lifted his head up, allowing the smaller man to pull away slightly, “What did you say?”

“I said,” Grant smirked, raising his eyebrow slightly, “I’m scared to think what you would have recommended.”

“Ugh, you’re as bad as Thomas,” Sherman grumbled, “a pair of book snobs, the two of you”

#replies #dartharaiz #writing prompt ask #did i get carried away?? PERHAPS #but i had fun #they dumb #and yeah...i thought sherman would like a dan brown book sdfghjk sue me I thought it was funny

[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 1/?

Hey guys, how are you doing? I have been working on this story for a while now and decided to finally post it, I am currently still writing the next parts because I decided to change a few ideas I had previously, but this is mainly just me giving Tim Drake some love and incorporating a bit of my love for Arrow too. Hope you guys like it and feel free to request me anything if you'd like, I write for the batboys, Wally and Conner. 

Requested: no

Warnings: some swearing

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the Cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake.

Word count: 2.228

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

The Wayne manor was silent that day, Bruce had everyone prepared for the arrival of a guest. The four boys were pissed off as why they had to make sure their rooms were organized, it was not like the guest would sleep in there. Dick and Jason didn't even live there anymore, but they gave up on arguing after one pointed look from Alfred.

When the doorbell finally rung, the boys were all too busy playing around in the cave - somewhere they found out they would have privacy, after all there was no way the guest would get there. So they weren’t there to greet you as you found your way around the house, after being greeted by Bruce and Alfred, letting them take your bags to the room you’d be staying at and showing you around.

You ended up standing in front of the clock, you knew pretty well what that clock meant, your brother had told you about that. You had a vague idea that the boys would be there - you really wanted to meet all of them - but didn’t want to intrude, this wasn’t your house after all and Bruce was already being nice enough to let you stay over while your brother was away in some business. So you went back to your room, deciding to meet them when was the right time.

And it actually didn’t take long for you to run into one of them. You collided with a huge body, making you land in your butt as you looked up to see none other than Jason Todd. He started down at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, frowning "Are you the guest Bruce told us about?"

“Hello to you too, Jason.” You rolled your eyes at the boys antics, pushing yourself up “It’s nice to see you again.”

He started at you for a few seconds before realization drowned on him. You are Y/N Queen, Oliver’s young sister and Roy’s ‘sister’ as well. He hasn’t seen you such a long time he almost didn’t recognize you.

“Y/N?!” He questioned, too surprised, patting your shoulder “Oh, it’s good to see you again. You look so different from the last time I saw you.”

“That’s because the last time you saw me I was sixteen.” You smirked up at him “Which means you’re getting a bit old.”

He narrowed his eyes at you “You’re like eighteen now or something?”

“Nineteen, actually.”

He nodded, leading you downstairs to the kitchen “Well, you’re still underage so you still have to respect me and do what I say.”

“When have I ever done something people tell me to do? I literally went after a serial killer on my own when I was fifteen just because Ollie told me to stay out of it.”

Jason nodded his head, remembering Roy complaining about something like that. He didn’t pay much attention at the story at the time because he thought it was boring and he had better things to think of, such as his revenge on Bruce, but now it seemed amusing a small girl like you trying something like that. He made a mental note to ask you more details about it later.

“I hope none of you are doing anything imprudent, we have a visitor and that would be really bad looking for you all.” Jason exclaimed, entering the kitchen with you by his side 

His three brothers were sitting on the counter, fighting over the last cookie Alfred had made earlier. Their heads shot up in curiosity trying to find out who was there with their brother. Hoping it wouldn't be the mysterious guest.

You stood still, pushing some hair from your face and offering them a friendly smile. Oliver has told you about them, even Roy filled you in on who they were, you’ve seen pictures of them, after all they were Bruce’s Wayne kids, but damn, you didn’t expect them to be this good looking in person. 

“Todd, who’s this?” A small boy questioned, holding up a knife to point at you

You chuckled at that “I’m y/n, it’s really nice to meet you. Maybe you should let go of that knife, kids shouldn’t hold things that can hurt them.”

“I’m not a kid!” He yelled 

His brothers laughed at his face, Tim already taking a liking into you. If you got to bother Damian in less than five minutes into conversation than you were cool. Dick though you were funny and Jason smiled proudly just because he knew you before everyone else.

“This are my brothers, Dick, Tim and Damian.” Jason introduced them to you 

You smiled once again, taking a sit across from where they were. 

“So...” Dick started “Y/n, when did you and Jason get together?”

“What? You think we’re dating?” You almost gagged, taking a look at the boy beside you. From all the stories you heard about him from Roy, you were 110% sure that you’d never be able to feel something more for him “We’re not together.” You chuckled at the end

Jason narrowed his eyes “Y/n is the guest Bruce told us about, but hold on a second... Why did you sound so disgusted?”

“Because anyone would be disgusted if someone thought they were dating you, Todd.” Damian rolled his eyes, earning a few laughs from his brother and you, and a death glare from Jason

“Roy just tells me so much shit about you, and you guys are glued. It would be like dating Roy, totally weird.”

“Oh, you’re friends with Roy?” Tim asked, leaning in a bit, curious about how much you knew about them all

You smiled directly at him, flipping some hair from your face. He stared at you for a while, mouth slightly open before quickly shutting it close. You were so pretty and what a perfect smile you have. 

“Yeah, I’ve known him almost my whole life.” You replied, frowning a bit, thinking back into old memories of when things went down hill, but quickly smiled again at boy in front of you “So I know plenty about all of you.” 

That gave him the answer he needed. You knew about their nightly activities, which was better than having to lie all the time. Not like he was expecting to have you around all the time, you were just staying for a while. But he wouldn’t mind staring at your gorgeous e/c eyes, and pretty conquer smile. 

Dick’s eyes went wide, looking at his brother and than at you. An idea already popping on his mind, if you weren’t dating Jason, maybe that meant you weren’t dating anyone, since you stated you also weren’t dating Roy. Big chances of you being single. Watching you and Tim interact made him want to play match maker, oh he was desperate to play match maker.

“How old are you, y/n?” He blurted out loudly 

“I’m nineteen, why?”

“Oh! Nothing! Just curiosity. Did you know Tim is twenty-one? Only two years older than you! Funny, right?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Dick didn’t know how to be discreet.

It had been a couple of days since you���ve been at the manor and you noticed a couple of things:

1. Damian was a very hard person to socialize with, he was very judging and didn’t seem to enjoy your presence at all.

2. Jason was everything Roy told you about him, and that was kind of creepy.

3. Dick was definitely trying to play cupid, asking you random questions out of the blue and then stating facts about Tim.

4. Tim had a very weird sleeping pattern, was coffee addicted and the nicest to talk out of the four of them. 

You tried to live your days as normally as possible, but nothing normal is really normal in this family. You thought it was ok their vigilant routine, your brother was one as well, but weren’t they extreme sometimes?! No wonder Oliver said Bruce was uptight. They show zero emotions. 

You tried not to get in their way, not really bothering them when they were busy with patrol and cases. You figured your time of the day should be during the night, when the would be out of the manor and on the streets fighting crime. 

Going down to the kitchen to get some coffee, maybe something to eat and then you could silently laugh while watching Brooklyn 99. What you didn’t expect was to run into Tim during that.

He was pouring down coffee on his mug when you appeared on the doorway. He glanced up, smiling once he saw you.

“Did I wake you up?” He questioned, leaning down on the counter 

“No.” You shook your head, smiling back at him “I came to get some coffee. Shouldn't you be on patrol?" 

"It is my day off." Tim replied, watching you as he took a sip of his coffee

"So then... Can't sleep?"

“I normally don’t sleep. What about you?”

You arched your brows at that, pouring some hot coffee in a mug for you. Who normally doesn’t sleep?

“Just wanted to watch some Netflix in the quite of the night.” You shrugged “What do you normally do since you don’t sleep?”

"I just work on some cases."

That seemed unlikely. How could someone stay up all night just working on some cases? He certainly did other things, maybe he had a secret girlfriend and he would sneak her into his room at night and that's just what he told everyone he was doing? Working on some cases.

"But you do that all night? I doubt it's healthy. Don't you like have a secret girlfriend you're sneaking in and you just don't want anyone to find out about?"

Tim laughed at your statement, shaking his head. 

"I don't have any secret girlfriend or a real girlfriend for the matter. I like working at night. You could help me sometime, if you'd like?" A dust pink took over his cheeks, maybe he crossed the line by asking you join him in his room in the middle of the night, but you smiled at him 

"I'd love to help you on some cases. Shall we start now?"

He nodded, grabbing your hand and pulling you in towards his room. You smiled at the touch of your palms, his hand was way bigger than yours, but you liked how it felt against your skin. His fingers were cold. You could get used to holding hands with him, it felt nice.

You entered his room, looking at the place around you and seeing how it had so much of him in it. It smelled like coffee and his cologne, a nice combination. He closed the door behind you, leading you to his desk.

"So, what do you want me to help you with?" You questioned, leaning on the desk and staring at him 

He took a moment to admire you. Your face free of makeup, some natural redness on the skin that made you look cute, your hair down on your shoulders, and your comfy pijamas. 

"Have you ever worked on a case before?" You nodded, making him look at you with surprise. You smirked before he kept on talking "I'm trying to track down some of these weapon buyers, there's supposed to be a sale soon, but I can't point out the location yet."

"What are our leads?"

Tim smiled, showing you all the evidence he got before splitting up the job and the both of you starting to work. You sat on his bed with a laptop and he sat beside you with his own. Both clicking at the keyboard, trying to find new clues to find out the place of the weapon sale before it's too late. 

At some point of the night, you had decided to take a small break. Laying on your side, looking at Tim while he worked and holding a small conversation with him. But then you were too quiet and when he looked at you again, you had fallen asleep, holding on his shirt sleeve. 

He closed his laptop, carefully placing it on his night stand, trying not to disrupt you, and lied down himself. He tried to put some distance between your bodies, but you shifted only getting closer to him once you missed his body warmth, and he found himself trapped when you plopped a leg over his thighs. His cheeks turned red and he was really glad you were asleep so you wouldn't be able to see how flustered he was right now. 

Eventually, during the night, Tim wrapped his arms around you as your head was placed on top of his chest. And that's how Alfred found the both of you in the morning, having checked your room to wake you up for breakfast and being frighted to find an empty bed. 

"What you're staring at, Alfred?" Dick asked, waking past him on the hallway only to squeaky like a little kid once he saw you two asleep holding each other "I knew it! I knew they'd end up together!"

He grabbed his phone, snapping a couple of pictures before being rushed out of there by Alfred. Tim deserved some sleep, and the both of you looked too adorable together to be disturbed like that. 

#Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #Tim Drake x Y/n #tim drake headcanon #tim drake imagine #Red Robin #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #batboys #BatFam #batboys headcanons #batboys x reader #batman #batboys x you #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #roy harper x reader

[bird-in-a-cage]

Frenulum

Apparently, according to Suzie Carmichel, Billy Hargrove had a dick piercing.

Steve had overheard it at a party, when he was busy in the kitchen making up a drink concoction that was mostly hard liquor and very little mixer. Usually he just ignored gossip, especially at parties where everyone is in a constant state of being somewhat drunk and because he had been the subject of a lot of gossip himself in the past, but that one. That one small line, half slurred over the kitchen sink and a now empty bottle of malibu, made Steve’s ears burn. Made his mind run a million miles an hour, self control long gone a few cups ago with whatever drink Tommy had given him when he’d first arrived. 

Tommy’s jungle juice was lethal but it got the job done. Fast.

With his own strange mixture Steve wandered through the party, brushing past bodies in different stages of sweat and sobriety, all bumping to the music that was loud enough to rattle the family photos on the walls, until he found the man in question outside in the yard. Sucking on a cigarette and nodding his head from side to side at the echo of the music. He had his own cup filled with god knows what, the leather jacket he came in long lost somewhere inside. Someone else was probably wearing it like a trophy.

Lucky them. 

Steve stood on the back porch, a little higher up from where Billy was stood in the grass nearby by himself, and pointed a finger with the hand that was holding his cup at the back of that dirty blonde mullet.

“You! I’ve heard a rumor about you.”

Billy just turned his head, eyebrow cocked, eyes glassy like blue marbles. They were both as gone as each other. Maybe Tommy had given them the same warm welcome even though it wasn’t his party. At least Steve didn’t think it was. He’d lost track of who’s house this was and on what street about an hour ago. Billy hummed around the cigarette between his lips as Steve made his way down so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“Suzie Carmichel knows your secret...”

Billy blinked heavily and stared at Steve. A curious expressional mix of confusion and I don’t care crossed his face at the same time.

“Who the fuck is Suzie Carmichel?” he spoke around a nearly burnt filter.

“You know. Suzie Carmichel. Big hair. Has that bag. Horses.” Steve explained with his hands, mimicking her blown out perm she always had. It was huge. Like a blonde cloud made of hairspray and hope. He couldn’t believe Billy didn’t know who she was. Everyone knew who Suzie Carmichel was. It was Suzie Carmichel. Billy just continued to stare blankly, took a swig of his drink in the silence before Steve waved his hands again to move onto the next subject, the more important one in his mind. “Did it hurt?”

“Wha’? This conversation? Yeah it’s pretty painful, pretty boy,” Billy grinned, flicking the spent filter towards a covered up trampoline pushed up next to the flowerbed. Probably to stop drunk party guests trying to bounce on it and hurting themselves.

“No! It. Did IT hurt?” Steve didn’t imagine it was a pleasant thing to get done. In the half hour it had taken to find Billy in kind of a small house it was pretty much all he could think about the entire time. A whole barrage of questions. What did it look like? Did it hurt? Why?  

Billy blinked again and sighed, glanced a look down at his cup as he rolled the dark liquid around inside, clearly contemplating a top up. “One last chance amigo and I’m headin’ back inside...”

Steve sighed frustrated. He didn’t want to actually have to say it in case it wasn’t true and then he looked insane, thinking about Billy Hargrove’s dick. Not that it would be the first time he’d thought about it but still, Steve didn’t need to admit it out loud if he didn’t need too. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the drink warm in his veins talk for him.

“Did it hurt getting your dick pierced?”

Billy’s grin was wild and hot when Steve opened his eyes again. The same look he got during a particularly rough basketball game, where everyone else playing was just prey waiting to be caught. It made Steve’s blood feel impossibly tropical, especially when Billy leaned closer, muttered into the shell of his ear deep and sultry. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes. Steve would like to know, that was the point in asking. But Billy was gone before Steve could follow up, disappeared back inside the house alive with the whole senior year. Steve felt abandoned in the backyard, answerless and alone. That had neither been a confirmation or denial and it just made the thoughts in Steve’s head worse and harder to hold onto. Especially in his inebriated state. No. He was finding out the real answer to this tonight even if it killed him.

Which if he was wrong, probably would.

The music changed from one synth track to another. Eurythmics making themselves known. Making the walls shake. Making bodies bump and grind. Making it harder for Steve to get through. A riptide of hormones. But Billy was nowhere to be found. Wasn’t downstairs anywhere either in the kitchen, or the makeshift dance floor of the living room that had spilled over into the dining room adjacent. Wasn’t in the basement getting high with whatever terrible weed was getting passed around the few stoner kids. And as far as Steve knew he wasn’t upstairs occupying one of the few bedrooms that seemed to be permanently engaged. Someone probably would have bragged by now. He tended to hear that type of gossip now he wasn’t in the highest levels of Hawinks hierarchy anymore. There may as well have been a ticket system in the hall with couples waiting to find one to use, so he might have at least seen. 

Whomever's house this was had better air the place out in the morning.

Steve didn’t want to seem desperate. But he was. He was also several cups of whatever was going deep and needed to piss pretty badly.

In his own defence, the bathroom door wasn’t locked when he pushed it open and saw Billy standing over the bowl finishing up, shaking out the last few drops. Steve would have been pretty mortified usually but Billy just glanced back and laughed before looking down at himself again.

“Didn’t realise you wanted to know that bad Harrin’ton,” he chuckled. “Should’a been clearer in askin'.”

“I’m not,” Steve lied. He couldn’t help but stare a little at Billy holding himself. Holding the answer to a million new questions. “You didn’t lock the door.”

“Maybe that was on purpose...” Billy rolled his head on his shoulder and smirked something wicked. Steve felt warmth pool in his gut that had nothing to do with the alcohol but had everything to do with those lips and darkening eyes. “You wanna see then? Since ya’ found me.”

Steve made sure to lock the door behind him when Billy cocked his head, beaconing him over. He leant back against the smooth tiled wall, still holding his cock and okay it was bigger somehow than Steve remembered. He’d only seen it in the showers though. And he wasn’t really looking. More a haphazard glance in the wrong direction than anything else when temporarily blinded by shampoo. Steve stepped closer in the small bathroom, eyes dragged down as Billy just lifted his cock up like it was no big deal to show off like this. To show off a three rung ladder of small black balls, clearly attached to bars, living either side of his shaft just under the head.

Seeing it made all common sense leave Steve’s head immediately. He’d never seen anything like it before. At least Suzie Carmichel wasn’t lying.

“Did-did it…?” Steve couldn’t get the end of his sentence out, just mesmerized by what was in front of him. Unable to take his eyes off it. Maybe sober it would have been a lot more awkward but here, in the cramped bathroom, there was nowhere else Steve wanted to be. Even if it did smell like piss and too much cologne and some weird floral perfume from coming from somewhere.

“Hurt? Yeah,” Billy chuckled, moving his hand so his thick fingers caught a little on the piercings, rolling them with his knuckles. It was impossible to ignore the way his cock twitched in his hand. It was impossible to ignore how Steve felt his mouth water. He blinked, trying to shake that thought away somehow but impulse was in control, no longer burdened by sense and a public filter. “Worth it though. Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

Billy nodded in that self satisfied way, just stroking himself now in a drunken haze. And Steve couldn’t stop watching as he got hard, somehow got thicker. It was nice to know Hargrove didn’t suffer from whiskey dick. Steve set his half empty cup on the edge of the sink and let curiosity take over, reaching across the short gap to brush his knuckles over one set of metal. They felt cool against his skin. Billy muttered out a shit at the small touch, so Steve did it again with his fingertips this time, rolling the smooth metal and brushing against the hot velvet of Billy’s cock, now completely hard as he let go and let Steve take over. He wrapped his hand around and gave a few tentative strokes, noting how the piercings felt against his palm, how he could feel the connecting bars if he squeezed a little, being careful not to drag or twist too hard. Whatever Steve was doing was clearly working, Billy’s eyes were hooded and heavy, his head rolled back against the white tile of the wall.

"Knew you had pretty hands for a reason," he muttered breathless, filled with lust, starting to rock his hips into Steve’s fist.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle a little, changing his grip again to roll his palm over the head that was quickly getting slick, spreading it back down to Billy’s thick base to make everything go easier. He made a point to really press his thumb between where the balls were connected to each other, rolling over the bars that lived under his skin. That had Billy practically purring, gripping Steve's shoulder with one strong hand, moans echoing throughout the room.

"You been starin' at my hands Hargrove?" Steve spoke with a grin. It felt good to have both the upper hand and to have the other boy so pliant for once. All bark and bite completely dissolved. Like he had found a secret ‘off’ switch in those tight jeans. In return Steve’s own jeans had become incredibly tight, his hard dick pressing up painfully against his button fly, almost threatening to pop the buttons free.

"Fuck-ah-h-hard not too. You talk with 'em a lot."

Billy practically melted when Steve swept his thumb through the weeping slit, gripping the opposite shoulder harder so there would be a bruise under Steve’s shirt in the morning without a doubt, letting out a noise that would surely be heard through the door by someone. Not that Steve cared anymore. Or really cared to begin with. He'd never admit it, but he thought about this a lot. Not just having Billy in his hand and falling apart so easily, but being able to shut that smart mouth up for once. But now with the piercing discovery he had something new to add to the little fantasy, well, memory now. They were hard not to play with every stroke up or down. Just there to apply pressure too, to see what new noise he could get out of Billy’s pink mouth. 

But there was still one question left, bubbling up in Steve's mind and popping out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Anyone ever blow you with 'em?"

Billy chuckled around a moan, both noises getting confused in this throat, but it sounded amazing. Made Steve’s dick kick harder. "You wanna try suga’?"

Not an answer. But Steve would take this one. Even as drunk as he was, he doubted any of this would leave the bathroom. The same way things never left the locker room. His knees hit the floor with a heavy thud as he settled between Billy's legs. Another set of bruises for the morning. He rolled the tip of his tongue around the little metal balls first, to see how they would taste. Musty. Like Billy’s smell. But not unpleasant. Like licking over a ring. A fist was heavy and tight in his hair in an instant. Not pushing or pulling. More bracing. Holding something that wasn't smooth so could be held.

Hargrove was a tight fit. Or Steve was out of practice since Carol came along and took up all Tommy’s time. Probably both really in all honesty. Steve's lips stretched something obscene taking down as much as he could, using plenty of spit cause Billy looked like he was into anything but clean and neat, pressing his tongue wide and flat over the piercings, rolling them with a little swallow that had Billy barely able to stand. Steve could taste his tongue getting more and more coated.

Billy didn't taste half bad, surprisingly. Not good, but not bad.

Duran Duran started coming through the floor. Hungry Like the Wolf. It seemed appropriate. Steve pushed Billy's hips back flat against the wall to stop him from moving, he was rolling on the balls of his feet within his boots and it was threatening to become an issue.

Not that he would mind Billy's thick monster destroying his throat, but breathing was still important. Maybe another time. If that would ever be a possibility.

It was less than a minute before Billy's fist got tighter, pushed Steve back so just the head of his cock throbbed on the taller boy's tongue as he came in ropes. Painted the inside of Steve’s mouth, threatening to bite through his own lip to contain some of the guttural noise that erupted from his throat just watching it happen with laser focus. Steve swallowed most of it, but there was a lot, some dripped down his chin and into the collar of his polo, leaving a strange stain. He nearly popped being used in such a way. His briefs felt damp.

It had been a while.

Billy panted as Steve got back to his feet, took a swig of his drink to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth, getting his hand batted away when he reached out to keep playing with the piercings like he was magnetized. 

"God, give a guy five would ya?" Billy tucked himself away, zipped up his jeans loudly, but didn't sound annoyed. It sounded more like a proposal.

Steve shrugged with a grin, biting the rim of his plastic cup and leaning up on the sink. He still needed to piss after all, just now it would be a lot harder. Billy patted his shoulder and went to leave, just unlocking the door before saying something over his shoulder that was definitely a proposal.

"If you’re still hard in twenty you can find out how they feel gettin' fucked."

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #dirt #my writings

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Mae Catt’s Cyberverse Q&A

Here’s a neater version of some key Q&A responses from Mae Catt’s Cyberverse stream. 

Please note: not everything is verbatim, and also note that Mae Catt said “Don’t take things I say as the end-all be-all.” She’s a big supporter of fanfic writers!

This Q&A session contains spoilers for Season 3 of Cyberverse. For a (somewhat) more comprehensive transcript, please refer to this post.

Q: Megop rights?

“Oh absolutely, duh.”

Q: What does Optimus do when he’s not giving speeches / being a leader when they were all hanging out on the ARK?

I think he reads, he seems like a heavy reader. It’d be cute if he read really bad Earth romance novels. He seems like a guy who needs a break from everything.

Q: Does Optimus have hobbies?

Not to borrow from Rung, but doesn’t it seem like Optimus would make model ships? Very quiet, very focused detail-oriented hobby. *pauses* Oh duh, he also plays basketball.

Q: How did the Decepticons learn to stream? 

Because they’re deceptive! Megatron knew he should dedicate some time to winning the hearts and minds of humans. Starscreams’ funeral was not the first time they streamed. Optimus would use the official media channels (like the news), not a streaming service. Megatron would try to speak more directly to the people.

Q: Is Optimus the type of streamer who would take 10 minutes to figure out how to un-mute his microphone?

Optimus is a dad. He has no idea what’s going on with streaming. Optimus would say embarrassing things while Bee and Hot Rod were in the middle of streaming something.

Q: Is Megatron dead?

In discussions we wanted to kill him. We wanted to do a reverse Optimus death. However, in the final product, I kinda enjoy the ambiguity rather than the final decision. Can’t remember if we were decisive about that in the script.

Q: Did the Titan mind Decepticons living in them?

The Titans want to be cities. They want citizens. They want to be lived in, that brings them joy.

Q: Does Megatron do anything for fun or is he too angry?

I want to say he’s too angry, he has fun beating people down but I don’t think he’s had fun for a long time.

Q: How would you feel about a female Optimus Prime? 

[GAY LAUGHTER] 

The question is: do you turn Optimus Prime into a woman, or do you take characters like Elita One and uplift her? I would want to lean more into giving Elita One more oomph, I do love how Optimus doubts himself and if he’s worthy of being a Prime.

(Mae Catt talked a lot about representation and later mentioned how there's more pressure to write the girl characters well, especially because of the need for better representation. They wanted more girls in the show, and they planned to have Jazz be a girl).

Q: Elita prime when?

All the time, in my heart!

Q: Did you plan to have ___ character in the show?

Almost every character was discussed at least once. 

She really regrets that they didn’t get to have Beast Machine Obsidian or Rumble and Frenzy in the show, and says she would’ve loved a MTMTE-style Ultra Magnus / Minimus and Transmutate. She didn’t know what Obsidian’s personality would be, it was just a “Look how cool he is!” sort of thing.

(Note: We have Mae Catt to thank for Whirl getting into Cyberverse)

Q: What was your favorite episode?

“I Am the AllSpark” because of the Megatron and Starscream dialogue (which she wrote). Also S2 04 Soundwave and Shockwave.

I enjoyed writing Starscream most, Clobber and Hot Rod became a joy, S2 E4 was my first episode, and it was fun getting into Hot Rod’s voice. It was hard doing Optimus’ voice, I’d always pass it off to someone to look at it.

Q: Did you ever plan to have Hot Rod become Rodimus?

Rodimus was never considered for the show because Optimus dying has been covered to death, but we were adamant about portraying Hot Rod as someone who wanted to be a leader. Hot Rod is someone who is learning to be a leader.

(On that note, when someone asked if she thought Bee would ever become Prime, Mae Catt said:)

I don’t think Bee would be a Prime. Windblade and Hot Rod would be a better Prime. He wouldn’t want to be a Prime. He’s the #2 to Primes!

Q: Did Megatron always plan to return to Cybertron?

Megatron’s priorities changed when he saw his doppelganger. Realizing he was a horrible tyrant, that scared him enough to return and not kill Optimus and make peace no matter what.

Q: Which death hurt you the most?

Starscream. (Slipstream’s hurt too).

We didn’t want to kill people off willy-nilly for shock value, but in certain instances it made sense. Like, the audience will fall in love with Slipstream because she’s becoming good, so she has to die. (She apologized for that sounding harsh). We killed Prowl because it was Shadow Striker doing the killing and he’s a self-sacrificing lieutenant. I almost wanted Starscream to emerge from the Judge’s head untouched, but I’m ultimately glad that idea got shot down.

(She circles back to this comment later, so I’m making note of that here since it wasn’t a direct response to a question)

When I was desperately trying to save Starscream’s life even though I brutally murdered Slipstream, I wanted Starscream to have amnesia and have a redeption arc. I wanted him to have a Windblade shard and have it be kind of like Castaway, where the only person he talked to was that (and the shard only had 5 phrases it could say). Eventually Bee would befriend him and he’d wind up with the Autobots.

I wanted to write Starscream kind of like an abuse victim who expects the worst of the Autobots, but I wanted him to warm up slowly to them. I wanted to have a Starscream and Optimus episode where Starscream messes up on something and Optimus is like “you did your best and that’s what counts”, a response which is totally new to Starscream. But obviously we didn’t have time for that.

Regarding redemption arcs (a continuation from the previous question, and a huge highlight from the stream):

Re: the potential for Starscream’s redemption arc “A redemption arc needs to be facilitated by a character acknowledging that what they did was wrong. He would have had a laundry list of excuses for it, even if there was all that evidence to the contrary, but the character needs to acknowledge that reasons don’t matter because people got hurt [by their actions]. [The character] needs to intend to do better. Let them try and let them fail, they don’t need to do a 180, it’s hard work to be a better person.”

NOTE: Mae Catt also made a few more comments re: the idea of a Starscream redemption arc on her Tumblr page.

Q: Did Megatron really kill Starscream?

The Starscream beatdown was super severe and they were like “holy frick they’re really going for it” when they saw the storyboards. According to Maecatt, Megatron didn’t kill Starscream when he slammed him down (which is a bit confusing since the show definitely made it seem like Starscream died). 

Q: Did Drift die? Why was he a double-agent?

According to us, Drift did not make it, but I fully endorse whatever you want. We needed a double-agent, someone who would (seemingly) kill Hot Rod. (She says they went with Drift because of his history in the comics).

(Later on in the stream)

Maybe Drift is alive, maybe he’s rethinking his decision and he’ll come back later. Drift would’ve been helpful in S3 for sure, maybe he’d come back with Repugnis or something.

Q: Why are you so mean to Percy? 

He's so mature and pragmatic that he can take it, and is willing to take one for the team bc he understands that it's what he needs to do. (In response to someone’s comment about his personality) Yes, he’s calmly feral.

Q: Is Skullcruncher Percy's bouncer now that he's running Maccadam's? 

Oh totally.

(She later mentions that Percy has permanently taken over Maccadam’s. Also: Skullcruncher is a lady! She misses Mac, but Percy takes good care of her).

Q: If Tarn is the perfect Decepticon who's the perfect Autobot? 

A firetruck alt mode, and an Autobot insignia as a face. Nat (her fiance) and I talked about it a lot. Optimus SHOULD be a fire truck, it makes the relationship between him and Ratchet a little more fun since Ratchet is an ambulance, and Optimus has an ax. It just makes sense! 

(She agreed that the perfect Autobot would be Thunderclash after the chat said that).

On that note, Mae Catt said they used Tarn for the show because: “OBVIOUSLY (the perfect decepticon) should look like this guy. A faceless mindless Decepticon that only serves Megatron”.

Q:  What sort of documents DID Optimus work on in the archives? 

Probably historical archives and working on stuff about all the Primes. Something like the French / American revolution equivalent, which informed his speech writing for Megatron and his own ethics.

Q: Did you always plan to make Optimus socially awkward? 

We “found” the social awkwardness for Optimus. Optimus was depicted as a father figure in S1 (implying it’s because S1 is from Bee’s perspective), S2 / S3 we were able to explore more and found the limits [writing him] and found it was hard to maintain that level of heroic dialogue. Optimus would feel awkward about it too. Randolph did an impression of Optimus’ speech for the Party Down episode. “[Optimus] can’t not be in war-mode.”

Q: Were Optimus and Megatron ever friends, or did they just work together on the speech stuff? 

Oh hell yes, I think [the story] is always enhanced when they’re friends and when Optimus really believes in what Megatron was working on. Optimus’ rejection of Megatron is what pushes him over the edge, his best friend rejecting him pushes him into a place where he becomes a tyrannical person.

Q: Does Maccadam know we love him? 

Mae Catt: *puts hand over hear heart and looks off into the distance dramatically* Yes.

Q:  What’s the best selfie Arcee’s ever taken? 

I like the one with the giraffe. Or maybe a selfie with some humans. I like the idea of Arcee having a bunch of human friends. 

Q: What do the Transformers think of the Florida Man? 

They can’t really tell the difference between humans, they don’t really get it. It just sorta looks like all the normal stuff they see on Earth (or something). 

Q: Who’s the Florida Man of the Transformers? 

Rack ‘n Ruin. But he’s too nice. Hmmm.

Q: What was most important to you personally to put out in each episode? Like humor/characterization/arcs 

I wanted to make sure I didn’t write dialogue that was condescending to kids, wanted to be true about the character. Dialogue needs to be true to the characters, and gay. (Laughs)

Q: Do Transformers know what memes are?

They know what they ARE, but they don’t get it. We wanted Hot Rod to be super into Earth culture (winning races and driving off before humans could realize no one was in the car), but we never had time to really get into that.

Q: What music does Soundwave like?

We had a cut joke from S2 E5 [where Megatron and Optimus are popping through portals all around the world trying to find the All Spark] . Soundwave pops into Brazil where there’s a music festival and he crashes the concert and hang out. He likes EDM the most? 

His favorite song is Despacito. He thinks its so sad.

Q: Were you surprised that Jake Tillman was in his 20s listening to his Optimus voice the first time?

She apparently listened to his vines a lot when he was in his teens so meeting up again like that was a cool coincidence. 

Q: What other dimensions or places did you want to be in the show?

I would’ve liked to have the other Transformers series show up (TFP, TFA, G1, Shattered Glass) but we don’t have those assets or budget. 

“This will quickly become unclear to audiences who aren’t (you people).” They couldn’t have all these references when some of their audience wouldn’t get it. 

Q: What about ____ ship?

Mae Catt says she doesn’t want to yuck anybody’s yums. For example, someone asked about Arcee/Grimlock, and while she said she sees them more as friends, she didn’t say they can’t be in a relationship. (Mae Catt also said she doesn’t ship Bee with anyone because she sees him as a little brother).

As she said several times in the stream, “Don’t take things I say as the end-all be-all”!

That being said, she did say she likes Dead End / Perceptor and Windblade / Slipstream.

Q: Why are there no humans in the show?

From the show’s conception, there were no plans to include any humans. They didn’t want humans distracting from the Transformers.

Q: Why did the Scientist collect Soundwaves?

He collects Soundwave because Soundwave is COOL! Wouldn’t you collect a single father of 5 who carries them around in his chest?

Why does anyone collect what they collect? “That’s a really angry dad who’s got five children he carries around in him and he plays music. Gotta have that!”

(Later on, she circles back to this question)

All the Other Universe Soundwaves the Scientist collected also had their own Laserbeaks. I wonder if the scientist would’ve taken them out. He might’ve just gotten rid of them.

(And of course, here are the boyfriend questions from the stream:)

Q: Is Dead End a good boyfriend?

Dead End is a work in progress, but maybe Percy is patient enough to get him there

(Mae Catt says she really loves the Deadceptor ship. She knew people would ship it, but she didn’t ship it herself until she saw the fanart for it).

Q: Is Astrotrain a good boyfriend?

No, no...he’s not a good person, really.

Q: Is Percy a good boyfriend?

Absolutely--WAIT HOLD ON. He’s very blunt, he doesn’t mince words, if you can handle his bluntness then you’re good. He is what he is and you have to deal with him.

Q: Is Soundwave a good boyfriend?

Soundwave is not a good boyfriend. He’s a good casual romance but he’s not a good boyfriend. Soundwave would be a terrible listener. He hears a lot but he’d tune you out.

Other information tidbits:

- If Thunderclash was in the show he and Jetfire would HATE each other. Thunderclash would be a rival reality star (maybe) to Media Fire.

- Mae Catt said “A lot of intelligent life is inherently mechanical” in space, explaining why so much of the non-Cybertronian life we saw in the show were robots.

- Knock Out was considered for the show, but every Transformer under the sun was discussed at some point in the writer’s room. (Ex: “Rumble and Frenzy are always considered in my heart, but there wasn’t enough time or space or assets to do so”).

- “The brand team had grown up on the toys as we had grown up on the ‘toons, so we just wanted to make the best thing imaginable.”

- They decided Optimus would be in the Other Universe’s Matrix and have a plinth because they wanted to show he was dead. “Logical backflips because he needed to be among the 13 to talk to Windblade.” 

- Dead End’s eyes are white.

- The team wanted Jazz to be a lady (!!!!!!!)  

- These characters have their own lives that we don’t see. Lots of stuff happening between episodes that we don’t always necessarily see.

- Developing Sky-Byte’s character was simultaneous with Jetfire’s character. “We knew we wanted Sky-Byte to be a poet, and we wanted him and Megatron to be chummy”.

- Percy did permanently take over Mac’s bar.  

- Her favorite VA is Jeremy Levy, he’s a really cool guy.

- She thinks Starscream and Cheetor could become (not necessarily friends, but connected?) because of their connection to the All Spark. Mentions how Starscream acknowledge Cheetor as the “Guardian of the Allspark”.

- Mae Catt describes Starscream as an “Awful gremlin” several times.

- Astrotrain and the Insecticons are from Megatron X’s universe.

- She thinks Cliffjumper and Bee wouldn’t get along, solely because of the IDW2 comic stuff. (They had a cut joke about someone telling Bee he should paint himself red and Bee saying, “But then everyone will think I’m Cliffjumper!”).

- Cyberverse got 26 episodes for season 3 because they had the 4-part episode movies.

- Megatron cares about his troops, but not in a way that we would notice that care. 

- AcidStorm is genderfluid. 

-  Cold Construction doesn’t exist in this show. When asked why all the Seekers look the same then, Mae Catt says “Maybe there’s one jet mode all the seekers really like”.

- She loves the idea of Wild Wheel robbing Astrotrain in train-mode, totally Wild West-style.

- One of the things she’s proudest of was turning Lugnut into a gal (and having so much body diversity and gender-neutral designs for a lot of characters). They wanted to include many more girls in Cyberverse (Nickel and Lightbright among them). She also mentioned that  Shadow Striker is taller than Optimus or is his height.

- She describes Cosmos as “R2D2, but a Transformer!”

- Maccadam looking like a buff Rung was just a strange coincidence.

- Blurr really was the fastest.

- Mae Catt says we absolutely SHOULD write fanfic. Fanfiction made her into the writer she is today. She wrote non-stop Matrix fanfic from the age of 12-20 years old. It helped her learn a lot about writing.

- She uses “They” pronouns for Rack ‘n Ruin when referring to both of them, but says that individually they both use “he”.

- She’s really sad that Skywarp didn’t get a speaking line.

- Mae Catt won’t say whether Ratchet finished medical school or not. (She laughed when someone commented "I don’t believe that man has ever been to medical school”). She also says she wants “I choose to believe Ratchet has never been to medical school” on a T-shirt.

- When asked why Rack ‘n Ruin were captains of the Ark in one universe, she says they’re probably the Prime in that one weird universe (lmao).

- She loves the idea that Transformers have siblings / families.

- In a world where they had an unlimited budget, it’d be fun if Cybertronians were constantly shape-shifting and changing their forms. Example: she’d like having Transformers who “grew a beard” and decided to “shave it”.

- She doesn’t understand cycles or astrocycles, she doesn’t understand the weird Transformers time stuff. (mood)

- She loved Beast Wars Inferno, she loved that Inferno called Megatron a Queen. It was played as a joke because the 90s weren’t very socially conscious, but she liked that Megatron never corrected him or beat him down.

- Shockwave altered his spark to have maximum bad vibes to destroy the All Spark.

- She said it’s hard talking about writing a show because you’re designing the experience and you have to make sometimes what sounds like cold and pragmatic decisions (eg: "we need a cold and spunky female”) which sucks, but they need to balance out the show. She says she’d never do that just for the sake of doing it, but it’s part of something that they do need to be aware of while working on a show. “It starts from a weirdly cold pragmatic place, but we try and put truth in it”.

- They didn’t want to have Unicron in the show since he’s the default “big bad”, but if he was in the show, Mae Catt says “If you put the proverbial budget-gun to my head, I’d keep Unicron in planet-mode because it’s more mysterious, but I want both alt modes”.

- Her favorite Megatron is Beast Wars Megatron.

- She doesn’t like Sky Lnxy’s design, it’s creepy. “He talks in the G1 episodes and the voice makes it worse.” She can’t get over his face.

- “I’d love to see more jets [who aren’t our usual gang] and find out all jets are kinda snobby, which explains why Starscream’s the way he is”.

- Everyone on the Autobot side are friends with each other.

Thanks for your time Mae Catt! We’re lucky to have you. Thank you for all your hard work on this amazing show.

#Megaop #Megop #Deadceptor #Cyberverse #mae catt #Primordial Robot hell #Transformers #I'm watching Cyberverse #i talk #Cyberverse spoiler / #Legitimately half these questions were ones I asked thank you Mae Catt for being so sweet #We're so lucky to have you #I loved that moment in the stream where everyone spammed the Lesbian / Bi flag #that was so cute! #(I was DecepticonGroupie)

[my-writings-and-musings]

oof,, now i wanna see a scenario where max actually ends up killing the tiny human for maximum angst,,, ur stuff is seriously so good.

The angst is real. These are real angst hours. I'm glad you like what I make! I enjoy hurting these bots I love and I have no idea as to why...

WARNING

THERE IS DEATH BELOW, ALONG WITH SADNESS, EMOTIONAL TRAUMA, GRIEF, AND A WHOLE LOT OF ANGST. THOUGH THE ENDING IS SOMEWHAT HOPEFUL READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

The level of guilt and grief had shaken him down to something in the depths of his core, and the onslaught of it all had nearly killed him, his spark all but flickering out when he was given the news. He'd still been in Rung's office, having ended the whole ordeal by pleading for help and promising not to hurt anyone so long as the little human limp in his hands received care. But of course it had been too late...

He hadn't remembered anything about collapsing beyond the incredible hope not to wake up again. Yet, despite everything he had done, Ratchet had put him on spark support and stabilized him. Why was a mystery he didn't have the energy to solve. Cuffed to the berth, he'd asked only to be taken offline for his transgressions, and had refused to eat. When the medics had put him on an energon drip, he'd wondered if his punishment had already been decided and would be the worst possible for a bot like himself; living with what he'd done. They even prevented the multiple attempts to terminate him from various members of the crew...

Rung had been his only non violent visitor, beyond the bots in charge. They'd all been stiff, but the sweet little phsychiatrist had been comforting, as if Max was the one who deserved empathy in all this. Nothing had occurred to him to say beyond how sorry he was and that he didn't mean for any of it. Primus bless his overly soft spark, Rung had forgiven him for what he could, assuring him that the trauma he'd suffered was capable of twisting any spark.

But, he'd also pointed out, it wasn't his place to forgive for the one who wasn't with them anymore. Such a thing could really only come from himself...

He'd cried when he'd heard that for the first time. Cried like a little sparkling after having an energon candy snatched away. The smaller bot had just held him, as much as he could with their differing sizes and positions, and gently encouraged him to let out the pain as long as he needed to. Had his body not been so frail he'd have likely wept for much longer. The pain was just overwhelming, as the phsychiatrist had just told him more or less that he'd never be forgiven.

Because he'd never be able to forgive himself.

Still, for reasons he didn't understand, he'd kept living and the others had refused to let him die. Most of it what you might call his "recovery" had been a blur. Between the grief and the guilt his spark had been determined to snuff itself out, but the skilled medics had refused him even that much, looking progressively less angry as they did so. Ratchet had actually appeared to pity him, something he found both unfathomable and at times infuriating. Regular sessions with Rung did little to soothe that desire to be hated.

He'd have probably continued that way for eons, even after being moved to the cells once his spark was strong enough to handle living on its own, but fate had thrown the entire ship down a very different path.

It had done so in the release of Overlord.

Like a warbeast, he'd been unleashed to take care of the rampaging monster, if only because death for all was guaranteed if the gleeful murderer went undefeated. With nothing to live for and everything to die for, he'd taken the opportunity almost gladly. There had been nothing to hold him back when he met his tormentor. Fear had stood no chance against his pure and unfathomable hate, but he didn't care at all for avenging himself, his spark burned for a life that had been lost in his own hands. It had been almost comically clear to him; he didn't need to be forgiven, but he hardly shouldered all the blame, for who had twisted him into what he was today? Who had caused nothing but suffering from the moment his spark had emerged from the Well? Who was smiling through it all?

The battle had been long and, even to experienced veterans, gruesome. He'd been torn apart, but pain had seemed so minor it simply didn't stop him. Pink energon had slicked up the floor beneath them, and when firepower had become unavailable the two had resorted to grappling with raw strength, fighting more like animals than bots. It had been agonizing due mostly to how desperately he needed to not die. Death wasn't an option unless this monstrosity went first. Looking into those twisted optics had been an excellent source of motivation, both at the beggining of the battle and towards the end, even as his vision began to fail from the strain of keeping himself going.

The final push had become possible when he saw what he'd wanted so desperately; Overlord was afraid.

Because he knew he was losing.

According to witnesses, the murderer had actually made an effort to flee in the end, but Max had finished him off by hunting him down and pinning him to the energon and viscera soaked ground.

A crack to Overlord's chassis had been his only target, one he attacked with primal fury using what remained of his arms and servos, clawing and tearing like a starving beast tunneling for a meal. As the armor had peeled back to reveal a sickly green spark, the former tormentor had actually begged. Max had heard none of it, taken no pleasure in the reversal of their roles, and had instead been unnaturally silent as he worked. This wasn't about his revenge. When his digits had secured about that spark, they'd actually burned from the heat of it, as if the accursed thing had come from the Pit itself. Yet he'd persisted, not even looking the now pitiful Overlord in the optics. The Phase Sixer was no longer a concern.

All he remembered before the blackness was how unusual a sound the heated orb in his hand had made upon being wrenched outwards, like the cracking of organic timber, only to collapse between his digits with the sound of thick glass shattering all at once. The explosion had taken his arm off, but pain had dissapeared from his being on every level. In fact, he'd known only that his battered face was smiling in what he believed to be the end. It was the small and content smile of knowing a job was done. Perhaps that was the closest someone like him could get to absolution, but even as his body had hit the floor, he hadn't minded whether or not the afterlife would deem him worthy of peaceful eternity.

Because if it didn't, he'd have the opportunity to do this again, and then perhaps Overlord would face a modicum of justice in eternity...

He could have sworn he saw you in the still silence, but that made little sense for a multitude of reasons. Though he could have passed it off as the effect of a million life saving treatments while he hovered on the edge of death, a state he apparently spent weeks in, he had decided to view the moments in your presence as an eternal mystery. You'd smiled and had assured him everything was fine, but had always been that way. Shushing any efforts at apology, you'd embraced his palm just as you'd done once in life, but this time the warmth of your touch seemed to fill his entire frame. It hadn't been enough for him to forgive himself, but he'd known peace. The one who'd started the vicious cycle of hurt was no more, and he promised it would end with him. Though he'd still fight, it would only ever be as a guardian. Wherever he ended up...

The soft beeping of countless monitors and the hum of just as many life supporting machines had replaced your voice when his optics had finally opened. Unable and unwilling to move, he'd been plagued by hurt in every solid inch, save for something far less unpleasant on his right hand.

Rung had been there when his optics finally found the strength to roll in his immobile helm, and the tiny mech had looked ecstatic to see him wake, calling for Ratchet as his small hand secured its grip on his. There had only been enough energy in him to stay awake a few minutes, but that had been all he needed to see the bursting shelf of Innermost Energon left for him. Apparently his victory and subsequent survival had redeemed him for most. That didn't really matter to him, nor did the assurance his crimes would be absolved in the wake of his considerable... extenuating circumstances and actions of atonement. Recovery had come impossibly slowly, and with all that quiet he finalized his plans for the future, finding endless companionship and motivation in his tireless therapist.

He'd live for you, every day that remained of his own life, to shape the galaxy into one as bright as it had been with you in it. Nothing could undo the past, but further wrongs might be prevented. The first hope he felt in forever was that you'd approve of his decision.

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