#Resting In Peace [Offline]

[qqquib]

watching this all happen (dream situation) makes it really obvious that dream is projecting onto tommy. hear me out here, he’s saying what he thinks tommy is doing or feeling (mainly here talking about the QSMP and the skit tommy made, saying he did it just for money or just to be away from “dream’s losing side”). it just makes me think that it’s something DREAM would do, which is why he thinks tommy is doing it.

idk! just a thought.

stand on business tommy, i too can’t imagine treating a 16 year old like that at my age now.

[rxnowned-vxmpire-hxnter]

((Good night! I got to go to work for four days, so I might just be spotty on here.))

[dearstvckyx]

It hurts, but I won’t fight you - Bucky Barnes

After disappearing following the events of The Flag Smashers, Reader returns as a brainwashed operative under the control of a Hydra-like organization. During a mission at The New Avengers Tower, the Thunderbolts confront her. Bucky Barnes, recognizing her, strives to break through her conditioning. - The Neighbourhood, Afraid

Bucky Barnes x Reader , mentions of thunderbolts members

Warnings: Violence, brainwashing, emotional trauma, mild torture (electric shocks), angst, hurt/comfort, romantic undertones.

The Neighbourhood Lyrics Masterlist - ⌂

The New Avengers Tower – Common Room - 11:42 PM

It had been a rare, quiet night.

Yelena was dramatically spilling crumbs on the couch. Alexei, legs wide like a king, was halfway through a passionate rant about how “in his day,” super-soldiers didn’t need protein powder. John Walker was ignoring him entirely, focused on whatever was on his phone.

Bob hovered above the ground with a book in one hand and a glowing soda can in the other. Ava had her feet up on the table, head leaned back, resting.

And Bucky? Bucky was enjoying the peace. The quiet rhythm of camaraderie that didn’t always come easy to him. Until—

BANG.

The power died.

All the lights snapped out, the screens glitched, and a high-pitched, shrill alarm shattered the calm.

“Warning: Breach detected. Level 12. Unauthorized entry.”

Everyone snapped to their feet.

Yelena groaned, grabbing her knives. “Why always when I’m relaxing?”

“Level 12’s main security is offline,” Bob muttered. “That’s not easy to do.”

“Could be sabotage,” Ava said sharply, tightening her gloves. “Or worse—inside help.”

“Let’s go,” Bucky ordered, who was already halfway to the stairs followed by the team. Excluding Bob who’s stayed behind in case the intruder came down.

⸻

Level 12 – Maintenance Corridor

The air was thick with smoke and flashing red lights. A security door lay blown off its hinges, wires sparking. The smell of scorched metal clung to everything.

And then—a blur.

Someone in sleek, black tactical armor lunged out of the smoke and kicked Walker full-force into the wall with a mechanical whirr.

“Damn it!” he growled, winded. “Who the hell—?!”

“MOVE!” Ava shouted, phasing just as a throwing disc nearly clipped her head.

Yelena ducked and retaliated with twin knives, slashing with military precision. But the intruder blocked it—clean, calculated—before flipping her over their shoulder like she weighed nothing.

Alexei charged with brute force but was met with a rapid-fire stun shot to the chest. He stumbled and fell with a groan. “That one was unnecessary…”

Everyone was on the ground, in pain… everyone but Bucky.

“Who the hell fights like this?” Ava hissed, panting.

“Like someone trained,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes. There was something hauntingly familiar about it—the stance, the precision, the brutal efficiency.

And then—Bucky lunged.

Steel clashed against upgraded tech. They fought close, gritty—Bucky landed a hit to the helmet, and the figure staggered. He pushed them back again, growling, “Take off the damn mask.”

The figure hesitated. A split-second of stillness.

Then—they whispered it.

“James?”

The voice. Muffled through the modulator, but Bucky heard it like thunder. His stomach dropped.

“Y/N?”

That moment of recognition—a crack in the armor—was punished instantly.

A violent shock pulse surged through their suit, and they cried out, buckling to the ground in pain.

“NO!” Bucky shouted, catching them.

You looked up at him, eyes flickering with something broken and terrified.

“It hurts…” you whispered. “But I won’t fight you.”

Another jolt. You screamed. His grip tightened.

He saw them now—small emitters on the spine, flashing red. Some kind of remote control. Surveillance.

Without hesitation, Bucky used his vibranium arm to rip them off, wires sparking and shorting.

The suit powered down. You collapsed forward, gasping, into his arms.

Helmet off. Face revealed.

It was you.

And the others—Yelena, Ava, even Walker, who the last time he saw you, you were limped and out cold in Bucky’s arms—stood frozen in disbelief.

⸻

Recovery Wing - 44 Hours Later

The recovery wing of the tower was quieter than usual.

You sat propped up on a medical bed, bandages wrapping the worst of the burns where the shocks had hit your body. Your hands trembled every so often, more from the cold emptiness in your chest than from the physical trauma. You hadn’t said much—not since the fight, not since Bucky tore the device off you and held you like the world had cracked open.

“Head still spinning?” Bob asked softly, sitting in a chair pulled close to your bedside, a half-eaten granola bar in his hand. “I can stop talking if it’s too much.”

You blinked at him and shook your head. “No… it’s fine. I like hearing your voice. It helps.”

Bob gave you a small, gentle smile. “Well, that’s rare. Most people say I talk too much.”

You managed a weak laugh, the first sound resembling life you’d made in hours.

Across the compound, Yelena, Ava, John, and Alexei were suiting up. The footage pulled from the hacked suit had given them a lead—an offshore facility run by remnants of a HYDRA-adjacent group. The same bastards who had taken you.

“They’re gonna find them,” Bob said, his voice quieter now. “They’ll make sure no one does this to you—or anyone—again.”

You nodded absently, fingers curling around the blanket on your lap. “I was awake for some of it. They’d… talk to me. Reprogram me. And I couldn’t scream, or fight back. I was just—trapped in my own head. But when I saw Bucky… everything cracked. Like he punched through it.”

Bob didn’t interrupt. He didn’t press you to keep talking. He just stayed, steady and warm, the way good people do.

⸻

Hours Later…

You heard the familiar shuffle of boots before the medbay doors opened. Your heart jumped when Bucky stepped through the doorway, bruised and bloody from the fight, but very much alive.

Bob was still next to you, now showing you funny dog videos on his phone to try and distract you. But he paused when Bucky entered, giving him a smile and a knowing look.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Bob said, gently squeezing your shoulder before getting up. “Holler if you want another snack. Or a better phone.”

Bucky watched him go with a slight huff of amusement before stepping forward, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only solid thing left in the world.

“You okay?” he asked first, as always.

You nodded. “Physically? Yeah. Emotionally? I’m still trying to sort through the static.”

He knelt by your bedside, gloved hand finding yours without asking. “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered.

“I scared me too.”

You tried to smile, but it broke halfway through. “They were in my head, James. Controlling me. And I couldn’t stop it. I thought I’d hurt you. I thought… I’d lose you.”

His brows furrowed, eyes going glassy. “You didn’t. You never could.”

He stood up slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. “You said something—back in the fight. ‘It hurts, but I won’t fight you.’ I’ve never heard anything more honest.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the softness in his voice. “Because I knew you. Even if everything else was gone… you stayed. And I… I stayed for you.”

Bucky cupped your cheek, thumb brushing a tear away before it could fall. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

You leaned your forehead against his, your breath mingling. “Then don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

Outside the room, the rest of the team passed by the hallway, glancing through the window and spotting the two of you curled together on the medbed.

Bob grinned as he walked past, whispering to Ava, “Told you he was a goner.”

John had rolled his eyes but smirked at the two. “Finally.”

⸻

SOOOOOO THE NBHD MIGHT BE COMING BACK IM GONNA CRYYYYYYY

[earthstellar]

One thing that I really liked in IDW 2 was the concept of Going Immersant.

Given the immensely long average lifespan of Cybertronians, it makes sense:

If nothing kills you, and you live long enough to have experienced all of what you feel you reasonably can in this lifetime, and you feel content with the life that you have had, and it seems time to retire--

--Why not return your knowledge and the entity of your self to the core of your planet, where your energy and your components can be reused and your memories and knowledge can be subsumed into the greater whole?

Plug in with the stray cables that stick out of the cavernous expanses deep beneath the surface of Cybertron, let yourself get situated, and allow yourself to daydream as the crystals grow around you and gradually consume you. It is not painful. It is a process of sharing.

Each daydream then enters the great memory bank of Primus, at the heart of the world, the core of life itself for your species. Your experiences become part of the eternal record of experienced Cybertronian life. You join your God himself, frame and processor, as you combine with him within the physical form of your planet.

Primus created you, and as you are subsumed into the crystalline forms that surround you, you will go on to sustain Primus in some way. An unending cycle.

Perhaps you feel something, leeching up from deep within the crystal mass, some unique energy meeting you halfway, the cables that snake their way into your ports like vines carrying some ancient data, older than yourself, older than the Rust Sea, older than the Hydrax Plateau, older than the Titans.

Maybe you cannot decipher it, yet. But it comforts you. It reminds you that you are not alone, after your visitors have gone. Where there is digital noise, there is something to produce it. You will meet it soon--

--After countless years of a peaceful rest, knowing that at the end of your endlessly long existence, your life will go on to benefit others.

And for as long as you are able, you still remain present, as well. Just not above, on the surface. For some time, others can still come and visit, speak with you, consult with you-- Although as your memory banks purge into the greater whole, you begin to falter in this waking realm.

And that is OK; To rejoin with Primus and re-enter the Well of All Sparks as an ancient elder, a repository of experience and wisdom, is to become a teacher to all. Even in peaceful, gradual death-- And even then, your energy and materials and thoughts remain somewhere, deep within the planet.

Returned. Recycled.

Eternal, in some shape or form.

It's just a really beautiful concept.

Without any natural death, Cybertronians have the option to simply return to Primus, return to the core of the planet, in a half-waking state.

At peace, gracefully and with intent.

All of what they have experienced and all that they are, all of their memories and feelings, all of the metals and compounds that make up their frame and armour and protoform, all of it can be taken in and absorbed.

The option is there, to emerge once more.

But for most, this is the final calling.

To go immersant is to enter peace, to become a living state of meditation until the very end for you as an individual. To have full agency over how you pass on, to make the decision and consciously know. To be happy with that. To relax into your fate, as you see fit.

To make the decision to be recycled, to contribute all that you are, to return your energy to the crystalline matter that fuels your world and your people and your God, who in turn fuelled you and will thus go on to fuel all those subsequently churned out by the Well.

To merge with your living planet on an atomic level, on an esoteric level.

I wonder if the fully immersant aren't dead in the traditional sense. Perhaps they are offline, to those in this world. Perhaps their frame is vacated as their data is absorbed. But that data is not lost, necessarily.

It's just a very beautiful end of life option for Cybertronians, and I do hope the concept is revisited in some form in the future.

[lovemepartly]

of all days ✩ choi seung-hyun

part of the GD&TOP writing event | 🎵 of all days

warnings: none!

a/n: so excited to be part of this amazing writing event!! make sure to read everyone else's works ☺️

also i'm gonna be offline for a while so that i don't get spoilers for squid game season 3... but i'm slowly working on some new fics and requests!

 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

before it all slipped through your fingers, there was warmth.

you met seung-hyun through a friend of a friend, like most normal couples do. and he liked that— being a normal couple. when you met, it was at the peak of his musical career. he was touring with bigbang and working long hours every night, but you never saw that side of him. and he loved you for it. 

you learned the rhythm of each other quickly. he’d come home to you, leaving his shoes messily arranged by the door, and kiss you softly. when he was touring, you’d call almost every day. timezones didn’t matter, seung-hyun would stay up until 3am wherever he was just to talk to you. when he was on stage in seoul, he’d always invite you, getting you some private seats on the side of the stage on the balcony. it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see your face in the crowd, because he knew once the stage lift lowered him out of sight, you’d be waiting for him backstage, with the same comforting smile. 

on the nights where he wasn’t at the studio, he’d rest his head on your lap while you watched a movie, falling asleep almost instantly. you hardly ever liked the movie, but you always stayed still so he could sleep. some nights you’d stay up talking until sunrise. other times, he’d fall asleep mid-sentence and you’d kiss his temple softly, pulling the sheets over him. mornings with him were soft. he’d always compliment how you looked in the morning, wrapped in his arms, the golden light shining onto your bare skin. he never wanted to leave for work then, always pressing his forehead to yours and murmuring, “just five more minutes.” 

you used to joke that he only rested when you made him— and he used to say that was the point. with you, he could breathe. with you, he didn’t feel like an idol or a public figure or a product. he just felt like seung-hyun. and that, he told you once, was the most dangerous feeling of all.

the love was real. that might’ve been the worst part. the cracks started to form in your relationship quietly, without you realizing it. dates were cancelled, nights were spent waiting up for him to come home, and him just being gone too long. you never doubted seung-hyun’s love, but you started doubting if love was enough. 

it didn’t happen during a fight. there were no raised voices, no slammed doors. just a tuesday evening and takeout growing cold on the kitchen table. he was late again. you sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, flipping through a book you weren’t reading. seung-hyun walked in, hair damp from rain, discarding his shoes messily by the door like he always did. there was stillness. not a peaceful kind, but an ominous kind. 

“i’m sorry.” he murmured softly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, but not close enough to touch you. you nodded. because what else was there to say? 

it was almost worse that way. no dramatic final kiss in the rain. no tears. just a final silence that neither of you tried to fill.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

two months later. 22:16. seoul, south korea. 

he used to tell you “just one more tour.” you stopped asking when that tour would end. but now, it was actually over. for the first time in what felt like years, seung-hyun had nothing to do. and no one to come home to. 

he tried to keep busy by writing songs and going to the studio. he wondered if his name was still in your journal, the way yours never left his songs. 

he’d been distant at work and with the guys. jiyong told him to call you, but what he didn’t know was that seung-hyun’s call history was filled with outgoing calls. he knew you wouldn’t pick up— although, the fact that you hadn’t blocked him yet gave him hope. sometimes he just needed to hear your voice on the voicemail.

you picked up once, about a month ago. neither of you said anything. six seconds of silence. then, he hung up and the line went dead. 

tonight, he left the studio early, jiyong’s words ringing in his ears to call you. he thought maybe you’d pick up today. today, of all days, was what would’ve been your two year anniversary. 

it started to rain as he walked home, the pavement slick. he supposed it would’ve been poetic to continue walking, letting the rain drench him in his sorrows, but he decided to duck into a nearby coffee shop that was still open at the late hour to escape the rain. 

the bell jingled as someone walked into the cafe. you looked up, meeting eyes with seung-hyun. it felt like time slowed in that moment. he looked at you, his expression unreadable. you met his gaze, startled, but steady. he blinked once, twice, and after a second, walked up to the counter to order a coffee. 

you watched him, gaze still silently following him as he walked up to the counter. he waited by the counter for the barista to make his coffee, flicking his eyes over to you once, but you quickly looked away. 

he walked over to where you were sitting, placing his coffee cup down with a small clink on your table. you looked up to meet his gaze. 

“can i sit with you?” he asked, voice soft and low, just how you remembered it. 

you nodded almost automatically. “yeah, of course.” 

seung-hyun took a seat in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the handle of the coffee cup in front of him. he cleared his throat softly before lifting his gaze from the mug to look at you. “so, how have you been?” he asked awkwardly, but sincerely. 

“good,” you murmured softly, offering him a small smile, “i’ve been good. what about you?”

seung-hyun couldn’t help but notice the way your smile was polite now. not soft, not his. just a formality. “i’ve been good too.” he finally mumbled. he wanted to say something else, to tell you he was sorry again and again. 

“you look tired.” you murmured softly, eyes studying the dark circles under his eyes and solemn expression. 

your voice was etched with it’s familiar softness and concern. he wanted to laugh. he’d been tired since you left. “tour’s over,” is what he decided to say instead. 

you hesitated for a moment before softly replying, “i saw.” you did, online. but you also knew his schedule better than he did. 

your words caught him off guard. you saw. of course you did. he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it meant you still cared about him. 

“i’m proud of you,” you added, “i know how much that tour meant to you.”

he nodded softly. it did. not as much as you, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. he was able to cough up a small “thank you.” 

“still get plain black coffee?” you murmur softly, a small but genuine smile appearing on your face as your eyes flickered down to the drink in front of him before back up.

he nodded, returning the smile. “do you still get an oat milk latte?” 

“yeah,” you murmured, gaze soft as you looked at him. “i guess we haven’t changed all that much.”

that’s the problem, isn’t it? he wanted to say. “i guess not.” he paused for another moment before softly adding, “i was thinking about you today.” it wasn’t a lie—  he’d been thinking about you everyday since you left. but today, on what would’ve been your anniversary, it felt like the only thought in his mind. 

“me too.” you murmured softly. there was a silent understanding between the two of you. you remembered. he remembered. 

you didn’t say anything after that. you were unsure what to say. every single time you set your coffee cup down on the table, the sound was too loud. the rain outside tapped on the window like it was waiting. 

seung-hyun took a deep breath, blurting out the words before he could regret them, “it would be nice to get dinner sometime. now that i’m back in town.”

you nodded softly, biting the inside of your lip to hold back a small smile. “i’d like that.”

a silent hope filled the air between you two. you didn’t know what this meant. but for the first time in a long time, you were both sitting at the same table and neither of you were in a rush to leave.

writing event taglist: @szonyix6277, @raynamorono23, @mintymuse, @millytugby

[hiiragi7]

Things I've experienced post-Final Fusion:

All of a sudden, the days felt really... really... really long. I never really felt like there was any time in the day prior to final fusion; living my life in parts, I had never experienced such continuous flow of time before. It's long.

It feels like I now have a lot more time to do things in the day, and I have to be careful not to push myself too hard. I've found myself being online less and less and getting a lot more involved in my offline hobbies and reading. I have a lot more time to work towards things I want to do.

I can actually think about and plan for the future now, and it's incredibly exciting. I talk to my partner constantly about it. I am very excited about the future.

I can remember so much more of my childhood, things I never thought I would ever remember I now do. That being said, there are still things I don't remember, likely tied to other memory issues, and I've made my peace with that.

While my memory certainly got significantly better in many ways, I've realized I struggle with non-dissociative memory issues as well, and I will live with those issues for the rest of my life; it's just how my brain developed, and that's okay.

Speaking of memory, I can remember things freely that before were limited to the memory banks of my individual parts. I no longer have to worry about what parts hold which memories and go about tracking them down; I as a whole either remember something or I don't, and of my memories, I can remember any of them whenever I want.

I feel a sense of ownership over my life, over my memories and my sense of self and my body. I can look at it all and very confidently say "that's me", and I feel and know it to be 100% true. A long way away from not being able to recognize myself in the mirror.

I can't dissociatively "take a break" from life the way I used to (ie switching out and letting another part handle it), and while it took a long adjustment period to get used to this, I'm okay with that; I have other ways to take breaks while still being present, I can listen to music or watch videos. If I really just need to be unconscious, I take a nap.

I had to come to terms with the fact I couldn't push myself past my limits anymore in the way that I used to, and that this is in fact an expression of self-care for me. I used to be able to push far past what I should have been able to, especially with regards to physical pain, and to some extent I can still do this under specific circumstances, but it is no longer something that I will do in my day-to-day life living with disability and chronic pain.

Actually existing in my body now, I have come to realize just how much chronic pain I have been in. It's made me a lot more alert to my needs and how to care for myself, what makes it better and what makes it worse.

When people say "there's always a chance you'll split again", it doesn't scare me; it comforts me to know my brain would still know how to cope if such an extreme situation occured that I needed to split again. I've worked through dissociative barriers, I could do it again. I know what lies at the end of that path is love.

No part of me has ever gone away. Even fully fused, we are all still here. I can even still communicate with myself as parts if I choose to. I still have parts, they just look different now. There are no barriers between us.

My parts held a lot of different aspects of my identity to them, aspects I'm still to this day sorting out. I've had a lot of realizations about who I am as a person post-final fusion, especially with regards to gender and disability. A lot of things about myself were formerly very heavily fragmented and dissociated which no longer are, and I'm still making sense of them.

I no longer experience flashbacks and nightmares. This is a major thing for me I sometimes still am in disbelief about, my nightmares used to be so severe that I would refuse to sleep because of them, and my flashbacks were horrible and caused very intense physical sensations. I no longer have them, and that's incredible.

Life is so much more vivid and colorful than I ever realized. I never realized how dull everything felt and looked before final fusion. It feels like a complete perspective shift that is hard to grasp in words.

I can feel my body so much more now physically than I ever could before. I feel each of my limbs, I feel changes in temperature, I feel my own breath, I feel different textures and sensations, everything I hear and see and feel and taste has so much more depth to it now.

I have emotions! A whole lot of them, and I can feel all of them. I can feel emotions that might be percieved as "contradictory" at the same time, I can feel emotions over little things and big things and just about anything at all. I'm no longer limited to feeling my emotions in parts, and it's incredibly freeing.

On that note, I have so much more emotional capacity now for feeling all of the love I have for myself and others. It's wonderful. I can't shut up about it.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Worm Moon in Virgo ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Behold—the last Full Moon of the aenergetic year 2024🥎🎲🍑The Full Worm Moon in Virgo on 14 March enters the axis of 'love and sacrifice' (Virgo) and 'self-undoing' (Pisces). It's also a total lunar eclipse! It's also accompanied by Uranus transiting Taurus, which has been shouting to me: FOOD🍡FOOD🍭FOOD🍢

Virgo being the ruler of the 6H actually talks a lot about our relationship with food and how that affects our sense of body image. Since it's ruled by Mercury—the planet of short-term thinking—there's something in the air with this FM that nudges us to rethink our eating and exercising habits. You may inexplicably, or intuitively, feel an urge towards moving your body more, eating more cleanly or lightly, or even meditating and resting more🧘‍♀️

Virgo is also a sign that's all about Mortal Femininity (I dunno if that's a good enough term to describe the opposite of Divine Femininity (Pisces)) so this Full Moon also carries a theme revolving our girlhood👒Some of us may be experiencing a pull towards nostalgia what would in turn help us redefine our sense of girlhood outside of what the patriarchy has defined for us🤢In turn, feeling more comfortable in our own expression of the Self.

'Can't a pretty girl be cringe in peace?!'🤣

This FM in Virgo as the true last Full Moon of the 2024 aenergetic year is inviting us to prepare our bodies and minds for a healthy, productive and abundant aenergetic year of 2025!🍾Take care of your body in all of its feminine glory. Return to a feeling of being 'safe in your own skin' as a liberated being💐

With this Mercury aenergy—Virgo’s ruling planet—affirm to yourself:

I THINK, THEREFORE, I AM. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱‧₊˚

reconnect: Gentle Ballet Body Warmup | Everyday Ballet

redefine: ★Supernatural Feminine Beauty & Charm Enhancement★ | Quadible Integrity

deck-bottom: 9 of Swords Rx, Priestess of Success, Red Astrologer (William Lilly)

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – First of All, My God, I Come First

redefining my girlhood – VI The Lovers Rx

Yo, in your case, I feel it was your 'immediate environment' or 'family members' who gave you a distorted view of what your girlhood was allowed to be. Maybe you grew up in a culture where women are very much oppressed, suppressed, or perhaps it was something to do with religion™️. Some of you may have allowed those views to rule over your mind but deep down, being the intelligent one that you are, you always knew you wanted, and are meant for, more! There was always a rebel inside who thought up more colours and expressions than what was allowed...💖

At any rate, I see that you've fought for the liberation of your mind, for the most part. Your Destiny is changing, babe. The script is flippin' is what's going on. Maybe you're at an age near your First Saturn Return, in it, or just about to get out of it. You've begun to get really clear about what your girlhood is supposed to look like and you're going to prioritise your own aesthetics, ideas and career choices! Some of you may resonate with getting clearer about what you want out of marriage as well~🎎

Or, getting really clear that you don't want to be married~🎈

self-empathy – 3 of Cups Rx

That being said, this FM seems to also be inviting you to cut off people whose influences aren't serving your highest good. If not 'cut off' at least limit your interactions with them. This seems to apply to social media content and the kinds of information you consume both online and offline, too. Any substance, mindset, way of thinking, idea, or logic that doesn't serve your feeling authentic and 'safe in your own skin and mind' needs to be limited, to such a degree that it can eventually be eliminated from your Reality✂️

Sooner than later, you'll see just how much you've developed a courage to be happy just by yourself. This FM will culminate an awareness deep within your psyche of just how important it is to have the ability to enjoy your own company, first and foremost, in your small globule of inner world; to feel happy and content with oneself, at least for the time being, before you are reunited with your Soul Tribe🪆Everybody always meets their Soul Tribe in the end~✨

service to the One and All – 4 of Pentacles Rx

Moving forward, I see that you're going to feel financially more abundant as well. From this elevated sense of freedom and self-love, you're going to share in good times with people who are actually good for you. People who do actually wish well for you, for whom you feel the same. Even some of you who really don't have anybody about you will feel a greater sense of being OK in your 'internet friendships', if you have them✒️

Generally speaking, there is a lot of 'beautification' going on in your mind with this Full Worm Moon in Virgo. As a result of that, I see you moving into Spring Equinox with a lighter heart and more faith in your future trajectory. Some of you may not be all too sure yet what this year is meant to bring to your doorstep, but you don't really care—you're just glad that right now, things are really lighter, easier and sweeter💕

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Priestess of Prosperity & Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I've Fought for My Place, My Peace

redefining my girlhood – 10 of Wands Rx

Girlhood to you was always marred by a sense of being responsible for everybody's wellbeing and still responsible when things go wrong. You may have gotten blamed for everything or maybe you saw a mother, sister or every other woman in your society get blamed for even men's misconducts simply because they're female. This either caused you to develop hyper-caution or you became very angry about the mistreatment of women but couldn't necessarily do anything about it👿

This Full Worm Moon in Virgo is inviting you to either rebel against this bullshite, or if you were already doing it nevertheless, this FM is strengthening your resolve for rebellion. This could translate into you finally leaving a situation for good, leaving some losers to learn and be responsible for themselves. This could also translate as you stopping making an effort to fix a situation for someone else. Basically, the whole summary is that you're gaining a new perspective on what you're worth as a Human being yourself🫀

This then helps you realise that you're actually SO capable of creating a paradise of your own~🌈

self-empathy – 6 of Swords Rx

And so, that's what you've decided to focus upon instead of helping putting out fires in other people's lives. When you finally leave that situation or person, I see you leaving with such a glad heart! You know that where you are headed is going to be so much better, so you have no qualms whatsoever. If anything, I believe that deep within you're thinking: 'I'm fighting for my place, my peace, so I'm staying right on track!' This could speak of the track towards your better, brighter, lighter future🔥

But for some of you who have actually made this move, I see that some disturbances from the past could be revisiting you, maybe asking for help whatsoever, and so this could speak of 'staying on track' of living a separate Reality from them. 'I've fought for this liberation. I'm staying with my decision!' Though leaving/ignoring what may have felt important can be painful, you know you love yourself too much to go back to what was choking you out of oxygen🐢

service to the One and All – 10 of Cups

Maybe some of you reading this already have children of your own, but even if not, I get that you're thinking about the future of your unborn children, too. You've fought this hard, this much, for your place and peace in the world because you want to create a paradise for your children, too. Seems like you knew that your previous situation/environment wouldn't be good in the long run for yourself or your children. And if you haven't got a child now, you've surely thought about their future, when you have them in the future🦘

Your Spirit is one that urges you to become a good parent, a good spouse, too. Were you aware of this? There was always this toxicity that you simply did not wish to pass down your bloodline. Your heart really is noble and full of self-sacrifice; but that's exactly why you should be selective with who you consider worthy of those sacrifices🦜You really are a warrior of Love~🌛And for that alone, know that your happy-ever-after is ALREADY here aenergetically~ Bask in this frequency!💖

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Priestess of Healing & Red Alchemist (John Dee) 

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – 'I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.'

redefining my girlhood – 8 of Cups

If this is your main pile, out of the others, you're probably just about to embark on a spiritual journey of your own. There is 'travel' or 'moving away' into the unknown indicated here, but this could translate as either you 'spiritually moving' to studying something new or you could be moving to a different geographical location to study in a whole new environment. At any rate, you're changing landscapes whether tangibly or intangibly🖼

This has most likely been a rumination of yours for months on end at this point. You've been wanting a change of scenery, you've been craving for a higher sense of sweetness or excitement to Life itself. You've been bored to death. There's nothing emotionally satisfying anymore in your current Reality or environment. Something, anything, needs to change🥽

And this Full Worm Moon in Virgo is sending you intuitive guidance as to what small steps you can take to changing your landscape...🎨

self-empathy – 4 of Cups Rx

You're most likely the type of person who's afraid of the known... Have you noticed that? While most other human beings fear the unknown, you fear predictability, and in a stranger manner still, you dread the idea of 'knowing' that all you've ever wanted is within reach. Some of you may unknowingly (pun intended) have been delaying your own manifestations because you're still 'comfortably' swimming in uncertainty...🏊‍♀️

'Because the unknown is what’s exciting. Keep me guessing, bitch,' you say to the Universe🎰

Much of Life's recent chaos has got you mastering navigating Life with so much uncertainty that now you can only feel 'comfortable' when things are chaos and unpredictable. The moment you feel like Life's kind again, the moment you think you've got the next step figured out, you begin to panic internally🌰Cold sweats, maybe.

service to the One and All – 6 of Cups

When you were growing up, you probably faced many instances where you felt like your whole society was judging you, condescending you about every little thing that you liked or were into. All of your hobbies or interests were denied or frowned upon by most everybody. Do you realise how this caused your brains to develop a penchant for running away from what's meant for you? In some ways I guess we call this 'self-sabotage'🧘‍♀️

This Full Worm Moon in Virgo is inviting you to rewire your brains—realise now that you're so much bigger and freer than how it was when you were (probably) really, really small and helpless. Now, you've got the mental power to select and decide what you want to have in your Reality. What's meant to be there, let it stay and enjoy yourself~🎠No more running away from what you like just to fit society's boring, drab selections.

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Priestess of Solitude & Silver Historian (Polydore Vergil)

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Pit Stop to Something Real °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ��� ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Unserious behavior, (some) inaccuracies bc lets face it, even if you are an F1 fan you still get things wrong (😭)

Note: I’m loving this series so far, so I’m really happy for the positive responses from you all! As always don’t forget to like + reblog as a form of support to me and other writers!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

liked by francolapinto, elenavalor and others.

ynbardot peep the last slide bc i won 🙌

alex_albon you only won bc franco kept defending in front of me as if his entire life depended on it

— ynbardot lilymhe PLEASE COLLECT HIM

— lilymhe 😭

francolapinto got your first win and i got to be on the podium with you 😋

— ynbardot defending me with your life is crazy work but i appreciate it

liked by ynbardot, williamsracing and others.

francolapinto Finde muy duro pero contento con el trabajo en equipo, gracias @.williamsracing por seguir dándolo todo!

a seguir así y los puntos van a llegar solos. buena carrera, al lado de los puntos en una de las carreras más duras del año para nosotros..

Cosas por seguir puliendo pero vamos por buen camino 🤝🏼🤠🇦🇷

williamsracing Vamos, Franco 👏

ynbardot plot twist: the real reason franco's so fast on track is because he’s racing home to me 😋

— francolapinto 😉

@racevibes GUYS CHECK Y/N'S STORY ??? ARE SHE AND FRANCO GOING TO AUSTIN TOGETHER ???

@apexchaser yup they're definitely dating 100%

—

The cabin lights dim as the plane levels out, the soft hum of the engines lulling most passengers into quiet murmurs or peaceful slumber. You, however, are glued to your phone, scrolling through the latest flood of notifications.

“‘Imagine sitting next to Franco Colapinto on a flight. I’d develop a fear of landing,’” you read aloud, snorting as you nudge Franco with your elbow.

He glances over from his spot next to you, raising an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what that means?”

“It means,” you reply with a grin, holding up the phone and shaking it from side to side for him to see, “that the fans have no chill. None at all.”

He shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “You’re way too entertained by this.”

“Can you blame me? They’re hilarious.” You scroll further, giggling at another comment. “‘She’s living the dream. I’d give my left kidney for that seat.’ No pressure, right?”

Franco smirks, leaning back in his seat. “At least they’re creative. I’ll give them that.”

As you laugh, though, a different notification catches your eye. It’s a post from Daniel Ricciardo’s fan account, a clip from his last race. The caption reads, “The end of an era. Thank you for everything, Daniel.” The humor drains from your face, replaced by a familiar ache in your chest.

You're suddenly hit with a wave of emotions, reminded of your favorite driver, who's always felt like an older brother to you. 'Austin, he loved it so much there. It's too bad that he left me questioning that night, even though we all knew it was coming,' you thought sadly.

Franco notices the shift immediately. “What is it?” he asks, his tone softening.

You sigh, setting your phone down. “It’s Daniel. I know it’s been a few days, but it still feels… wrong. Like, how is it his last race? How does that chapter just end?”

Franco leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you. “You two are close, right?”

You nod, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. He’s been like an older brother to me. Always checking in, always making me laugh—even when I didn’t want to. He’s one of the reasons I love this sport so much. I can’t imagine being in Austin without him.”

Franco watches you for a moment before speaking. “I get it. He’s one of the good ones. It’s hard to let go of someone like that—on or off the track.”

“Exactly,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “He deserved a better send-off. Not like this.”

Franco hesitates for a moment, then reaches out, his hand brushing yours. “You know what he’d say if he were here, right?”

“What?” you ask, glancing at him.

“He’d tell you to stop sulking, grab a taco, and drink a stupidly overpriced coffee in his honor,” Franco says with a small grin. “Because that’s what legends do—they leave behind memories that make you smile, even when it hurts.”

You can’t help but laugh at the thought, wiping away a stray tear. “That does sound like something he’d say.”

Franco leans back, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “So, when we land, tacos on me. For Daniel.”

You grin. “For Daniel. But only if you let me pick the place.”

“Deal,” he replies, giving you a mock-serious nod. “Anything for the plot.”

You laugh again, the ache in your chest easing just a little. Franco glances at you, a soft smile on his lips. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

You glance out the window, the clouds glowing faintly in the moonlight. “I’m lucky to have him, too.”

And as the plane carries you closer to Austin, you make a silent promise: tacos, overpriced coffee, and memories—because Daniel wouldn’t have it any other way.

@paddockpower franco and y/n fake dating for “clout” but looking like they’re on their honeymoon in the paddock. i’m losing it.

@racingheartsxx every time i think i've processed y/n and franco, a new picture drops and i spiral all over again. they’re SO 😭😭😭

@feederfrenzy they’re literally living in my delusions rent-free. FRANCO AND Y/N, YOU WILL PAY FOR MY THERAPY.

—

The Texas sun beams down on the paddock as the crowd buzzes with energy. The air hums with excitement, the kind that only comes with a Grand Prix weekend. You adjust your sunglasses, trying to blend into the chaos around you, but walking next to Franco makes that borderline impossible.

Photographers start snapping photos of you, but with Franco beside you, you momentarily forget that you are also someone people recognize. “Are they looking at me, or are they just trying to figure out who you are?” Franco jokes, his easy smirk firmly in place as he fixes his hair so it's out of his face.

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “They know exactly who you are. Don’t act like you’re not eating this up.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, as a group of fans catches sight of you both. One of them—a girl holding a sign with Franco’s name scrawled across it—gasps audibly, nudging her friend.

“Oh my god, it’s him!” she whispers, not-so-quietly.

Franco notices and slows his pace, glancing at you. “Should we go say hi?”

“You’re the star,” you reply with a grin. “Lead the way, Mr. Colapinto.”

As the two of you approach, the small group erupts into giggles and nervous chatter. “Hi,” Franco says, flashing them his signature smile. “You guys enjoying the day so far?”

“Yes! And we’re so glad to see you here!” one of the girls blurts out before her gaze shifts to you. Her eyes widen. “Wait… Y/N?”

You freeze for half a second, then smile. “Hi! Nice to meet you.”

“You’re so pretty in real life!” she says, her enthusiasm spilling over. “And are you guys… together-together? Or is it just, you know… the internet talking?”

Franco raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk teasing, while you internally curse the universe for putting you in this situation. “Oh, we’re just keeping things casual,” you say smoothly, tilting your head with a practiced smile. “But thanks for the compliment!”

“Casual?” the girl echoes, her tone laced with curiosity as her eyes dart between the two of you.

Franco leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to sound conspiratorial. “She’s being modest.” He winks, earning a chorus of giggles from the group.

You shoot him a look but decide to play along, shrugging. “You know how it is. Race weekends are busy.”

Another fan gasps softly. “Wait, are you guys official? Or is it just, like… new?”

Franco chuckles, glancing at you as if waiting for you to answer. You cross your arms and roll your eyes playfully. “Let’s just say… we’re figuring it out.”

The group erupts into muffled squeals, clearly eating up the act. “Can we get a photo with both of you?” one of them asks shyly.

“Of course,” Franco replies, stepping closer to you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand lightly brushes against yours, the casual intimacy of it catching you slightly off guard, but you keep your composure as you smile for the cameras.

“Say ‘power couple!’” Franco quips, making everyone laugh as the phones click.

As you walk away, your shoulders brush for a moment before you instinctively pull back, glancing at him. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Who, me?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I’m just committing to the role.”

“Sure you are,” you mutter, though a small laugh escapes you despite yourself. “You better hope these photos don’t end up all over the internet.”

“Hope?” he teases, flashing you a grin. “I’m counting on it.”

Another group of fans notices the two of you, and Franco turns toward you, his grin widening. “Round two?”

You sigh dramatically but can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I’m upping my acting fee.”

“Deal,” he says, holding out his hand as though to seal it. You roll your eyes but shake it anyway, and together, you head toward the next group, stepping perfectly in sync like a couple that has nothing to hide—and everything to sell.

liked by danielricciardo, heidiberger_ and others.

ynbardot keeping it casual in austin

francolapinto the caption is very interesting

— ynbardot only a joke between an exclusive group of people

danielricciardo miss you champ

— ynbardot miss you more dr3 !! texas will always be yours

heidiberger_ enchanté pop up and we'll be expecting you!

— ynbardot WILL BE THERE !!

@kindajealoustbh y/n, sweetie, i love you, but respectfully… MOVE. franco belongs to the fans. we’re suffering over here.

@boxboxbutton y/n pretending she doesn’t know she’s living all our dreams??? girl, GIVE ME THE DETAILS. i need a 10-step guide to manifest Franco

@rearwingromance franco and y/n are so flirty it hurts. i want to hate her, but honestly… she’s kind of iconic for pulling this off.

@overtake_obsessed if this “casual” thing turns into them actually dating, I’m throwing my phone into the ocean. like… LET US BREATHE.

The restaurant buzzes with the lively chatter of drivers unwinding after a long day. You sit across from Franco, flanked by Charles and Pierre, who are in the middle of a heated debate about pizza toppings. Next to Franco, Oscar chuckles quietly, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment to stoke the fire. Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, adds fuel to the fire with her own strong opinions.

Next to you, Kika giggles as Lando and Alex dramatically defend why just cheese on pizza is not a good mix. “You’re outnumbered, Charles,” Lily teases, holding her hand up for a high-five with Lando. “Pepperoni is the best topping.”

“I expected betrayal from Lando, but not from you,” Charles replies with mock indignation, causing another round of laughter. Alexandra, Rebecca, and Carlos join in on the laughter.

You shake your head, grinning, and nudge Franco under the table. “Look at this chaos. Are you going to save Charles or throw him under the bus?”

Franco smirks, leaning back in his chair as all eyes turn to him. “I feel like pepperoni pizza is more of a genius idea. Obviously.”

“Traitor!” Charles groans, throwing a napkin in Franco’s direction.

Lily and Lando cheer in triumph while you laugh, leaning closer to Franco as if to conspire. “Didn’t know you had such strong food opinions. I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“I like to keep you on your toes,” he replies casually, but his stomach does a weird flip when you smile at him.

The conversation shifts, plates of food and drinks passing around the table as laughter fills the air. But Franco’s focus keeps drifting back to you. Every time you speak, his attention locks onto you like it’s magnetic—the way you gesture animatedly, the soft laugh you share with Rebecca and Kika, the quick wit you use to tease Alex or George when they say a corny joke.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Alex notes, leaning slightly toward Franco. “Everything good?” Franco blinks, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, just taking it all in.” Alex gives him a knowing look but doesn’t push, returning to his conversation with Lily.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask softly, catching Franco’s eye from across the table. Your tone is light, but there’s a hint of genuine concern in your gaze.

Franco clears his throat, trying to play it off. “Yeah, of course. Just… thinking about dessert.”

“Thinking about dessert?” Kika interjects, her tone playful. “You’ve been staring at Y/N for half the night, Franco. Is she on the menu?”

Your eyes widen, and Franco’s ears burn as laughter erupts around the table. “Kika!” you exclaim, covering your face with your hands, though you’re laughing.

Franco fights the urge to bury his face in his own hands. “Can we order something to distract everyone, please?”

Lily, ever the peacemaker, jumps in. “Alright, let’s get dessert before Franco melts into a puddle.”

By the time dessert arrives, Franco’s discomfort has faded, replaced by something else entirely. Watching you interact with everyone—your warmth, your humor, the way you instinctively refill his water glass without a second thought—makes something click in his chest.

He’s in trouble.

As Charles launches into a passionate defense of tiramisu, Franco leans slightly toward Oscar. “Can you pass the sugar?”

Oscar doesn’t move, just raises an eyebrow. “It’s right in front of you.”

Franco mutters a quiet thanks, and Oscar smirks knowingly, his eyes flicking between you and Franco.

“Good luck with that,” Oscar whispers.

“What are you talking about?” Franco whispers back, feigning confusion. Oscar doesn’t answer, just shakes his head with a small laugh.

When you glance at Franco again, he feels like he’s caught red-handed. “You sure you’re okay?” you ask softly, leaning closer so only he can hear.

Franco hesitates, his pulse quickening. “I’m just… realizing something,” he admits, his voice low and almost teasing.

“Oh?” You tilt your head, curiosity sparking in your eyes. “Care to share?” Before he can respond, Lando interjects with another joke that has everyone laughing, pulling your attention away.

Franco leans back in his chair, watching you laugh, your shoulders shaking as Kika leans against you for support. The noise of the restaurant fades, and for the first time, he understands what people mean when they say someone can light up a room.

He’s falling for you. Judging by the way you glance back at him when no one’s looking, he wonders if you feel it too.

© soleilpinto 24’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[jasminegazer]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

I made fanart of @indieyuugure’s hot cocoa gremlin Raph and @truths33k3r4’s Lotus. Hope you all have a peaceful day asI will be offline for the rest of the day.

[captainofthedauntless]

Wants

Rise Leonardo x Reader imagine

Info + Warnings: Reader needs help wrapping gifts at the last second before a party. Leo's their hero. And a huge distraction. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader. An attempt at Spanish by a very not Spanish speaking writer. Established relationship. Arguably steamy. Set a few years post movie.

Commentary: IDK what the fuck happened here.

See, here's the thing.

You are extremely, incredibly kissable.

He knows this. He knows this like he knows his swords are sharp. He knows it in his bones.

He also knows you have somewhere to be.

(Really, his motives were good. He came over just to help you finish wrapping your friend's birthday gifts (okay, and give you shit for only now getting around to it). He just wanted to be a supportive boyfriend and make sure you had time to get ready in peace.)

And yet, because he's either an idiot or an asshole, here he is, boxing you in at your table and kissing you.

See, the thing... you look really, really good. And you smiled at him when you walked out of your room, all dressed up and looking forward to the party you're going to and grateful for his help.

And he's only human- turtle- hm.

He's not immune, is his point.

So here you are, getting kissed, and his hands are on your waist and yours are grabbing handfuls of his shirt and he's very, very happy.

It's only when you gasp against him- his hand slipped, okay, he hadn't meant to squeeze your hip like that- and the sound makes his heart skip one beat and crash into another that he realizes- with all of the force of getting hit by a train- that he has to stop.

It's like cutting off his own arm.

But he does it, he pulls back- pushes back against every fiber of his being that wants to keep you close enough that he can almost hear your heartbeat- because you have places to be.

And you deserve much, much better than him being a desperate disaster against your dining table.

Now he's staring.

He's staring and his hands are still on your waist and your hip and he has to stop. Has to. Needs to. Like, muy rápido, right now, yesterday has to stop.

"...Hi," He says, voice all shaky and gooey through his grin.

"Hi," You repeat, a little dazed as you're still clinging to his shirt.

You're smiling at him again. He's not sure you ever stopped.

Shit. Fuck. He has to walk away.

He wants to keep you there for the rest of your natural lives.

"You gotta go," He mutters grimly, and he realizes how fucked it sounds immediately, and he throws himself into an uncharacteristically jumbled explanation because his brain is still offline. "It's late- you gotta- the thing- I'm- fuck I don't want to stop kissing you."

You cock your head as you process his messy babble, blinking twice, and then you're laughing.

And then he's laughing, because really it's that or take one of your butter knives and portal himself into the ocean, and if he does that he can't do this again.

"I gotta go," You confirm with a wry, bittersweet smile, not letting go of his shirt.

It's going to be so wrinkled.

He literally could not give less of a fuck.

"You gotta go," He repeats, more to himself than you, and you must know that because you're laughing again and you must really not care about... whatever urgent thing you have to go to... whatever that was, because you're not helping him stop like. At all.

You're gonna be the death of him one day.

"Maybe... you could come back by tonight? We could watch that stupid racing movie you've been talking about-"

"It's a heist movie, thank you-"

"-And, uh..."

"Don't say chill. I'll explode. I'll expire."

"I was trying to say cuddle," You say, bashful and exasperated at the same time, somehow. As though he'd ever say no. As if he knows how to say no to you. As though he ever, ever stood a chance.

It's beyond cute. It's enough to make him want to squish you and literally never let you go.

"You gotta go," He groans, his hands darting up to cup your cheeks and squeeze your face softly. "You're gonna drive me insane. What even is this again?"

"Birthday party."

"They'll have another-"

"Leo!" You laugh over his playful persuasion.

"You can send a card-"

"Leo."

"I'll pay for postage. I'll lick the stamp."

"Leonardo," You breathe, all fond exasperation, as though you'd ever let go of his shirt. As though you're any better than he is.

He almost wants to push just a little farther, see what else he can get you to call him.

He really wants to.

He wants a lot of things around you.

And even more when he's not around you.

And now, he's facing min-ee-mum four hours being not around you.

He hates it.

He takes the feeling and balls it up and three-point-shoots it into his mind's trashcan, because you deserve to go and have fun and be merry and all that jazz. He gets you to himself enough- never enough, literally never enough- that he can share.

Plus, he did a fantastic job wrapping those gifts.

And, as easily as he twists and leads and convinces other people, he's played himself right into a corner, because now it's both you deserve him being normal here AND his ego.

He'd be impressed by himself if it weren't for the fact that it means he loses.

He shakes his head a little, because he lost the plot minutes ago and you really gotta go and he's still got you against the table.

"Movie night?" He asks, just to hear you talk. He knows the answer.

"Movie night," You confirm happily, releasing his shirt.

He whines a little. He's barely even embarrassed at this point.

You laugh again and smooth the fabric out, hands warm on his plastron and making him a little insane again, before you press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for your help, honey."

"Thank me by making sure those are put front and center on the table, yeah?"

You glance at the boxes- done up in blue ribbon, you notice- and nod. "Art deserves to be displayed," You say seriously, and he's dangerously close to kissing you again because you're perfect.

"Yoooou-"

"Gotta go?" You finish with a knowing grin, eyes smug, head tilted playfully, perfect.

"Extremely, extremely yes. If you don't go I'm never gonna let you go. You gotta go."

"Hm..."

"Nope!" He says quickly, cutting off whatever tease is about to come out of your mouth, clinging to his sanity by half a thread. "Nope, nope, you are taking those boxes and you are going and you're going to have a great time and be safe and that is final."

"Are you telling me or yourself?"

Perfect. The death of him. Smug and clever and kissable and the worst and the best.

"Both, apparently."

"...I can be a few minutes late-"

"Baby, gorgeous, mi vida, if you don't get out of this apartment-"

You laugh bright and mischievous and delightful, and you press a quick kiss to his lips, and you scoop up the gifts and your keys ("You can port out, right?" "I think I'll manage.") and your phone and wallet and he grabs the door for you, because he's a gentleman (unwilling to be an inch farther from you than he has to).

"See you tonight," You promise, turning back to look him in the eye with more open affection than he was ready to see outside his own reflection.

"See you tonight," He agrees, knowing he sounds lovesick.

You leave, he closes the door, he slumps forwards to rest his forehead against it as he turns the lock and laughs breathlessly because his chest feels like it's going to explode from how much of it is just you.

[rxnowned-vxmpire-hxnter]

((I'm so tired. But I only got three more asks to answer! But sleep is important. At least the queue is my friend and handy tool.))

[satoruhour]

IDK IF U WILL SEE THIS OR ANYTHING BUT! is it ok if i request smth small and it starts off with gojo and the reader having a lil bit of banter by text, and the reader then says “satoru ur so pretty u should start a kissing booth for easy money” (as a joke ofc) and he was like “good idea” and went offline, making the reader freak out for the rest of the day until they came back to their apartment….. and found satoru set up a whole kissing booth in their living room

a/n: this is so cute!!! ty for the request anon <3 in this megumi is under satoru’s and reader’s care, tsumiki never went into a coma, and you’re married too / 1.3k

you loved satoru’s compliance. when you tell him that he should never cook again as a joke, he listens with a wide grin and a face that’s burnt on one side, sweeping the hard charcoal pieces of pancake into a pan. when you tell him you have two left feet, he simply laughs and just plops you onto his own, making you look like a fool waddling around.

a lovesick fool.

you’re left smiling into open space until a notification cuts you out of your daze, smile twisting into a questionable expression as your husband sends a picture of him posing in front of some boba tea shop, a promotional banner stating get spanked by one of our staff and get a free cup of boba tea!

[9:17am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: bet i’ll do it

[9:18am, delivered]: satoru. now. youll do it even if i dont bet you???!!?!!?!! 

[9:18am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: hmm… compelling argument, i’m afraid you’re correct

a few minutes pass and you are confident it’s him asking for a spank with a blinding smile on his face, probably pointing to one of the male staff because i have a wife at home, y’know? she’s so pretty and hot-headed and hot and—

[9:20am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: photo attached

boba acquired 😈😈😈😈

[9:21am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: oh yeah, one of the staff called me pretty. was a guy btw. had to flash him one of my peace signs and i just know he swooned

the raise of your eyebrows returned, though you stifle a chuckle.

[9:21am, delivered]: he did not swoon i promise you

and another picture comes in, his face all up in the camera with a comical pout on his face and your laughter comes out more freely this time, basically hearing the looks you’re getting from the commuters in the subway, though your eyes are only focused on satoru, on the curvature of his lips and the peek of his baby blues behind the sunglasses you bought for him.

[9:22am, delivered]: joking. you’re so pretty, you know that right

years ago you would’ve told yourself that it’ll only fuel his ego, but that was long before gojo satoru had decided you were everything and more; where he values everything you say, where you’re all he worships. one compliment from you could shut him up forever.

[9:23am, delivered]: you should totally start a kissing booth for like …. $4 a kiss or something

it’ll be easy money ngl and then we can share the gains 

[9:23am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: woah… good idea baby. alright then!

and gojo satoru goes offline immediately, leaving you left out in the cold, confused and perplexed when the satoru??? where the hell did you go??? texts fail to be read. it’s not often he does it, usually sending you a plethora of hearts or some stupid ugly sticker before the conversation ends. on the way to the school, you’re continually texting him, too, looking way more distracted than you would like to be in front of the students.

“sensei? any reason why you keep checking your phone?” yuji asks after lunch in the classroom, both arms tucked under his head.

“hm?” you answer but your eyes are still glued to the screen, the taunting ‘last seen at 9:23am’ taunting you endlessly and megumi looks like he has half a mind to just blurt it out, but he thinks it’s worth seeing your reaction later as he takes one more look at his adoptive father’s updates, sending picture after picture of his progress and he keeps the device tucked under to avoid any suspicion.

[14:09pm, my terrible father figure i guess]: do NOT !!!! SEND THIS TO MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE . i wll literally humiliate you in training later if you do

megumi sighs.

[14:10pm delivered]: don’t you already? also stop texting me loser she’ll find out 

the raven-haired boy later is left to comfort you later when you’re holding onto the phone a little too tightly, and by then you’ve already gone through every possible thought. satoru dying, satoru meeting a curse that’s higher than a special grade, satoru on a rampage to kill the higher-ups, satoru—

“you’re going to die worrying about gojo-sensei like that.” and you roll your eyes, hand fishing around in your bag for the keys to your shared home while your eyes never leave megumi. it’s been like this for as long as you can remember: you being the voice of reason, megumi taking your rambles like he always has, gojo usually just laughs.

“yeah? well? how could i not?” you fumble with your keys and pick out the right one, putting it in the keyhole easily from the many times you’ve done it and you swing open the door, “not when he’s the strongest who has to take care of so many things without any rest! what if he got distracted and took down infinity? what if he—”

and sometimes you hated gojo’s compliance (you’re lying to yourself).

upon opening the door, the living room was full of cardboard boxes and cut out shapes, paint over the floor and on his jujutsu uniform, an all-knowing, but still stunning grin that you wanted to slap off of him. the chaos of the cardboard led to one thing: a small counter completed with a tip jar, his free cup of boba tea and a large sign that said kissing booth: $4 for a smooch!

and a smaller sentence is parenthesis, ‘free for my baby.’ the statement almost, almost gets you but you manage to ask him in a monotonous voice, “what are you doing, gojo satoru?”

“hi…?” megumi smiles secretly to himself before closing the door for you, putting the keys in your outstretched hand and it’s sort of the routine the three of you fall into everyday now. alas, with tsumiki staying in her university’s dorms, it was a little lonely for megumi, but the two of you were enough entertainment for him.

“well i was just listening to you!” gojo gestured to the whole place, which will probably be a pain to clean up, “who can blame my silly little brain for wanting to do a project to make my wife happy?”

you cross your arms in retaliation, but in all honestly, you wanted nothing but to greet the sorcerer with an embrace, something you’ve been meaning to do since your worrisome attitude from the morning. reluctantly, you frown while you make your way to the makeshift counter, immediately leaning forward before satoru puts a finger on your lips with a teasing smile.

“ah! four dollars please!”

bonus

“i was really worried, y’know,” the words are muffled from the way you’re buried in his neck that night, inhaling the scent that you missed all day. it’s summer in japan at the moment, but you find yourself craving his skin more than ever, a hand going up to brush through his stark white hair.

“’m sorry, baby,” satoru pulls away from you, as with you, sending you a small smile before pecking your forehead, “i promise to tell you what i’m up to from now on.”

you lean forward to close the gap, and all the kisses you exchanged earlier were definitely not enough. softly, your arms wrap around his shoulders while a leg goes over his body, gojo sounding out a little surprised hum at your eagerness. smiling into the kiss, satoru only plants more kisses to your nose, your lids, to your eyebrows and your chin, and another gentle one to your lips.

“even if it’s arts and crafts or maybe attempting to make you some strawberry tarts.”

you slap his chest lightly, a faux shocked expression filling your features, “i thought we agreed no more strongest sorcerer in the kitchen?”

“of course, sweet girl,” satoru lands one last deep kiss to show you truly the extent of his love. but even then, he knew it wasn’t enough, so he hoped, at least his words were, “i only ever listen to your voice —  none else matters.”

i love him

[ddollfface]

Can I please request a Yandere Hanayama Kaoru head canon?

𝐀 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

𝙆𝙖𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙖 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

Warnings; reader is afab/described a girl, yandere behaviors, stalking, I talk a lot, lots of ramblings, probably doesn't make any sense, bad writing, more stalking, Tumblr is trying to silence me, ngl Hanayama is growing on me... If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Bro, I'm so sorry that this is super rushed, seeing as I hit the word limit??? I'm super confused because I barely wrote anything, but whatever. A lot of my headcanons are based around @yandere-writer-momo. Also, sorry for being offline for so long lol, kinda forgot I had Tumblr ngl :/

Okay, to start this off, I think that realistically, it'd be very, very, very hard to get Hanayama's attention. He's shown to be stoic and stone-faced, only showing respect and warmth toward specific people (Baki and Shiba included). And I think it's important to mention that the people he does respect is due to their fighting spirit and/or strength, that or they were there during his childhood (like Kizaki and his mama).

And that's just for him to show basic affection toward them, not even accounting for being loving. For you to catch his attention, I think that you'd have to be either a really strong fighter (meaning having impressive skills of some sort) or have a strong will, either one will work. (Though, a lot of the time, both go hand-in-hand).

When I say a strong will, I don't mean you get up after being punched over and over, instead, it can just be standing up for others. Similar to Katsumi, I can see Hanayama being attracted to a person who's selfless, in the sense that they're brave. Someone who's willing to push through their fear and do it, whatever it is. Now, that catches his attention.

There's a never-ending list of cowards who'll run with their tails between their legs at the sight of discomfort, willing to abandon everything just for their own gain, and Hanayama encounters these men all the time. Let's just say that it gets boring, annoying even. So when you see someone who's spitfire, ready to jump into danger for themselves or others. Now, that's impressive.

Whether or not they can actually carry through doesn't matter too much, it's the fact that they got back up, not letting their dignity lay to rest. Personally, I find that Hanayama would be far more interested in someone who's genuinely acting selfless in this way, acting from the heart.

Going more into his childhood, I think this type is rooted in Hanayma's relationship with his mother. Though I haven't read the manga, from the wiki, I've gained that he was close to his mother, loving her very much. We don't know much about her. Hell, we don't even know her name, but we do know that she was kind.

That's the only information we're given, but even from that, I can make an analysis. From this, I know that Hanayama was likely a Mama's boy, though still being trained to be a Yakuta. I don't mean Mama's boy in the traditional sense, I mean it in the way that she was his peace, his way out of the Yukuta world, his destiny. Being raised in a gangster lifestyle isn't easy, nor is it soft, so just imagine the damage that type of environment can put on a child's brain?

Horrible, huh? So I like to think that Hanayama's mama, before she passed, was far softer to him, giving him some sense of security. this is possibly why he felt such sorrow after she passed, discarding the natural pain we feel when our mama dies (seeing as there's a primal connection we have with our mama, but that doesn't matter too much at the moment).

Hanayama is a very monotone kind of guy, who, I imagine, doesn't like people with some type of alternate motive. Like, y'know how politicians or businessmen talk? Like they're hiding something from you? Yeah, Hanayama loathes those kinds of people, especially if they're trying to pursue him. I belive that he wants someone who'll keep his life steady; be his calm, if you will.

He wants someone who will be upfront, express themselves clearly, and won't keep what they're thinking from you. To him, this is a breath of fresh air. Hanayama is constantly surrounded by lackeys trying to kiss up to him, speaking with a hidden motive (which isn't really hidden in retrospect). If they're not trying to appease them, then they're quacking in their boots, ready to piss themselves.

But you're not like that, no, not at all. You're different. Hanayama can tell, you aren't some coward, instead, you're someone to respect. He can imagine you sitting next to him, all pretty as a Yakuza's wife. Yeah, he likes the sound of that. Well, the only problem is that you don't know who he is, not yet at least.

I imagine that you wouldn't know who Hanayama is, at first, seeing as he never spoke to you. He likely witnessed you acting selfless in some type of way, expressing your kindness by helping a grandma get across the street, something like that.

You didn't notice him, but he sure noticed you. At first, it wasn't anything too special. Hanayama just found you interesting, wanting to see what you'd do next, so he had one or two of his men keep a tab on you--nothing serious. It continues like that for quite a while, and Hanayama learns more and more about you. He knows that you like to sing when you cook, tapping your feet to the beat, and swaying side-to-side. It's cute, he thinks. And Hanayama feels closer to you, as if you know each other, like you're friends.

But then one of his men reports that you're not at home, not following your usual schedule. Instead, you were at some dingy cafe, drinking crappy coffee with another man, some slumbag who looked like he hadn't showered in a hot second. For some reason, which Hanayama doesn't know, he gets ticked off.

Someone as sweet, kind, and damn pretty as you shouldn't associate with someone like him, someone so gross.

He doesn't do anything, no, no yet. It'd be too brash, and too stupid. And Hanayama isn't stupid. No, Hanayama can keep himself composed, now knowing that he needs to get your attention. Afterall, he can't have you running around with other men, not when he's right here! Well... you don't know that, yet.

Few weeks pass, and you've completely forgotten the trashy date you had gone on, but Hanayama hasn't. You begin to notice new outfits appearing in your closet, clothing you certainly didn't have previously. They're far too expensive, too revealing for you to own.

You'll be confused, especially when these dresses, heels, and coats are no longer just appearing, but instead, being presented. Now, instead of being hung up or nicely folded in your closet, they're being laid out on your bed, accompanied by a pretty, black leather box with silk insides. A little note is stuck on top of the shimmering dress, causing you to gulp, looking around as a shiver racks through your body.

Who the hell is buying you a dress? (though, it looks far more like lingerie, seeing as you'd never be able to wear it out in public). You don't know, but you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you lift the velvet cloth, feeling the lace slip through your fingers. Once you tried it on, listen, you couldn't help but feel curious, you gawked at how it fit you like a glove, hugging your curves, and accentuating your hips and bust.

It's fucking creepy, that's all you can think, but it gets worse, way worse. Throughout the weeks, you notice more and more gifts show up at your doorstep. The dresses get severely revealing, much to your discomfort. So do the notes. They get too detailed and too accurate to your day-to-day. By now, it's clear that you have a stalker, a rich one at that.

I'd have to say that this is the worst part of being with Hanayama: the courting. It's hella weird! You'll never feel alone, always having someone watching you, mostly Hanayama. He doesn't have his lackeys watching you anymore, seeing as he's far too jealous for that. He doesn't want someone as low at them to see you in such an innocent, vulnerable state. No, that's only for him to see.

Don't be surprised when he shows up at your door, your last hookup's head in hand and a bundle of roses in the other. After all, it's time for you to come home, no?

[wallofchynax]

SWEETHEART (7/?)

POSTED ON AO3 chapter one is here

Synopsis: Shawn Michaels is a legend. A Hall of Famer. A respected veteran in the wrestling industry. He’s also one breath away from a full-blown breakdown. Because somehow, despite his best efforts, he’s found himself entangled with the worst possible problem: you. You, the young, smug, utterly relentless female wrestler who has made it your personal mission to ruin his peace. Shawn knows this is a bad idea. And yet— He can’t stop.

Ships: Shawn Michaels / Bratty!Reader, Stephenie McMahon/ Triple H

Content Warnings: nothing. This is the second last chapter of this story.

tag list: @sparkinthedarkuk, @coffincorey, @dilanmoodboards, @sultryfandoms, @vixenhatesyou, @iamfandomwasted @mygreenlights @tedem @behavior619

if you want to be added to the tag list: comment or answer this.

It had been four days since you walked out of Shawn's office. Four days since you stoof in front of him with your heart in your hands, only for Shawn to let you down and lewt it fall onto the floor. It had had been four days since you had even spoken to Shawn. You hadn't even looked at him. You avoided him completely at the Performance Centre. Somehow, silence screamed louder than if you two were yelling at each other. You weren't crying anymore about it. That ended after day two btu now you were just unreadable. Quiet. You still showed up. You hit your reps at the gym, run drills with the other performers. You weren't throwing tantrums. You weren't breaking down but you were cold. Whenever you entered a room there was a visable drop in temperature in the room and no one dared to ask why. No one. 

Well, Rhea Ripley wasn't no one. 

She watched across the gym. Seth was trying to stay out of it but unfortunately for him, he was now part of this drama as much as she was so Rhea didn't allow him to ignore it. No. Rhea and Seth watched you work through a set with such a single minded force that it was kinda terrifying. Your arms were trembling until the weights, the effort visable on your face but not once did you falter.

That was when Seth leaned in to Rhea.

"I think we made it worse,"

Rhea crossed her arms.

"No shit,"

Her eyes glanced towards the far end of the gym and there was Shawn, pretending to be busy with talent assessments and he was almost convincing but the clipboard was more of a prop especially when his gaze kept flickering you you ever so often. He looked like hell. Dark circles. Pale. Jaw tight with guilt. You didn't even look at him once. Didn't even give him the benefit of looking at him. It was like he didn't even exist in your eyes anymore. 

Rhea leaned in closer to Seth, whispering like it mattered, "I just wanted them to stop acting like horny teenagers in public. I didn't want...this,"

Seth rested his chin in his hands, "Yeah, well, congradulations I guess. We just made things worse,"

 Rhea didn't say anything right away. Her gaze stayed fixed on you, watching the way your jaw clenched in between sets and how your expression never changed like your heart had went offline and was now working purely based off of muscle memory,"

"I didn't think she would just give up like this," Rhea said, thoughtfully, "Thought she might...I don't know...throw a dumbbell off of his head,"

Seth gave her a look, "What? You wanted her to assault him,"

"No? I wanted her to fight this," Rhea said, "Not just...emotionally disappear,"

Across the gym, Shawn was doing his best impression of a man who wasn't extremely guilty of a crime against secret fuck buddy relationships, he looked back at you and then the clipboard. it was like he was worried something would happen if he looked at your for too long. Maybe something in you or something in himself would change. 

"She hasn't even looked at him," Seth said, "It's like he's stopped existing entirely,"

"He deserves it," Rhea said. 

They both went quiet. They watched you start another set, sweat glistening from your temples as your movements controlled, punishing. Trying to exorcise all those feelings out of your body one rep at a time. 

"You think she's gonna snap?" Seth asked.

"I think," Rhea leaned back, "If we don't fix it, we'll need to prepare an eulogy,"

Seth gives her a sideway glanced, "For her or Shawn?,"

"Honestly... it depends on who cracks first," Rhea said before leaning forward, "We need a new plan,"

Seth gives her yet another look, "No,"

"You haven't even heard my idea yet," Rhea said,"

"Every plan you've told me has involved me nearly being fired," 

Rhea grinned, leaning back," Come on. One more plan. You get to say you helped reconnect to wilting lovers,"

Seth ignored that, "What's the plan?"

"Simple," Rhea rubbed her hands together, "We flirt with Y/N"

"We?" Seth immediately knew where this was going. It was going to go where all of Rhea's plans went. Shawn being two seconds from texting Hunter into releasing Seth for having a bad attitude. 

"Okay. You flirt with Y/N. In front of Shawn,"

"No," He said, "Absolutely not,"

"Oh come on. I'm not asking you to hook up with her," Rhea said, trying her best to convince Seth to reconsider, "You're just gonna remind her she's hot. Her confidence is shot right now and you just need to remind her that she's hot so she can stop being sad and start persuing Shawn again,"

"She is hot," Seth said defensively, "But have you considered 1) Shawn will kill me, 2) If Shawn doesn't kill me then my wife Becky will definately kill me,"

"You're not doing anything wrong," Rhea argued, "Think of it as motivational flirting. Harmless encouragement,"

Seth gave her a very exhausted look, "Rhea, do you even hear yourself right now?"

"She needs a distraction," Rhea shrugged, "Something to pull her out of her sad girl spiral and Shawn needs a fire under his ass to chase her again and nothing gets a man's attention faster than realising than someone is sniffing around his girl,"

"Okay now you're making it sound like we're dogs Rhea,"

"Love is war,"

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, not saying anything for a few seconds.

"Fine," he said, standing up, "I'll do it just... back me up if Becky finds out please,"

"Back you up?" Rhea smirked, "That's your war to fight. I'll talk at your funeral,"

Seth shot her a look that very much said Why couldn't I be a footballer instead? before walking towards you. Across the gym, you were wiping your face down with a towel, oblivious to the scheming that was going on at the other end of the gym. The music in your eyes drowned out the rest of the room. You were focused. Isolated. The way you had wanted to be these pas couple of says.  

Seth approached you very much like a man who was stepping up the the gallows. He looked over and saw Rhea giving him an encouragin thumbs up.

He was never letting Rhea talk him into anything again. 

He approached you and you immediately pulled out one earbud, "Seth?"

He cleared his throat.

"Hey. I just wanted to say," He looked at Rhea. He was scared to see if Shawn was watched, so he looked back at you, "You look good today. You're killed it,"

You blinked.

"What?"

"I...I mean,"

"This isn't motivational flirting isn't it?"

Seth blinked rapidly. He looked around and saw that Shawn was watching them.

Intensely.

Seth could feel the holes being drilled into his skull.

Focus.

"Well, I mean no. But also yes," Seth tried to smile, "You're hot. Like, objectively speaking. That's all,"

You crossed your arms and glared at him, "You know I have Becky's number right? I will call her and tell her your being a gym thot,"

Seth's soul immediately left his body. Not his beautfiul and firey wife, "No. Please Please don't. Becky will kill me. She hasn't forgiven me for breaking the ceremic moose last Christmas,"

You looked over and saw that Shawn indeed was watching you. Instead of getting frustrated and walked towards you, Shawn did the opposite. He was frustrated. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched as his hands were had his side but instead of getting mad and coming to see you, he pressed his clipboard to another coach and walked out of the gym.

"I'm just gonna...abort mission and go back to Rhea but... I'm sorry about Shawn," Seth said awkwardly, "I mean it. You are hot... and funny and one of the best here. I hope he sees that soon," 

You blinked.

"I...Thanks Seth,"

Once again, he nodded awkwardly and walked away from you and back to Rhea. You returned to your reps, but with a small smile on your face.

-

Seth practically collapsed back into the seat beside Rhea, burying his face in his hands. Rhea gave him a few seconds before talking.

"So," She began, "How did it go?"

"I think I died," he mumbled, "Like, I actually think I died and I'm in hell now,"

"She didn't hit you thought,"

"No," he said lifting his head, "But she did threaten to call Becky. And she said the word gym thot with so much venmon that I think I nearly cried on the spot," 

Rhea laughed, "God I love her," 

Seth pointed at her, "You're not allowed to make me your sacrificial lamb ever again,"

"Come on," Rhea grinned, "You gave her a compliment. She smiled. I saw it,"

"She called me a gym thought,"

"And then smiled," Rhea said, "Progress. We are getting somewhere,"

Seth groaned, leaning back in his chair, "He was watching. Like really watching. I thought he was gonna come over and superkick me in front of everyone,"

Rhea's grin widened, "But he didn't though. You know what he did? He walked away. Which means it's working. He's overwhelmed with feelings. He was close to coming over and kicking you into the sun which is why he had to go,"

Seth sighed, "So what now?"

"We need to divert our efforts to Shawn," Rhea said, "We need to push him into talking to her,"

"Rhea, he's Shawn Michaels," Seth said, "He's like a hurricane in cowboy boots,"

"No Seth," Rhea leaned in, "He used to be a hurricane. Now he's just...weather. Sad dramatic weather. Here's the thing, he thinks he's going the noble thing so he's not going to fix it on his own. He's acting like a tortured artist throwing himself on his sword but all he's doing is making it worse for everyone who has to witness this emotional furneral,"

Seth frowned, "But what if he doesn't listen to us?"

"He won't," Rhea said, "But he might listen to himself if he gets it in his head that he's losing her,"

Seth rubbed his face, already tuning out of the drama seeing that he had done his bit, "Didn't we already do this part with making him jealous,"

"That was the soft launch," Rhea said, standing up and cracking her neck like she was going to war with The Heartbreak Kid in a steel cage match that she knew she would win, "It's time for the full launch. Time we go to the source,"

"You're not..."

She shot him a look, "I am going to talk to Shawn. Directly," 

"Oh no,"

"Oh yes," Rhea said with a grin that could only be described as deadly, "He needs a push. And I'm not talking emotional pep talk. I'm talking full throttle, psychological warfare, soul-searching reality check kind of push,"

"You're going to traumatise him," 

"I'm going to inspire him," Rhea corrected already walking halfway across the floor, "In a deeply upsetting and confrontational way,"

-

It was 11.42pm in your hotel room and you hadn't meant to stay up this late. 

You showered. Packed your gym bag for tomorrow. Scrolled half heartedly on your phone without really absorbing anything. The TV was on, playing some cooking competition you weren't even watching. Your hotel room was dim, quiet and comfortably still. You sad on the edge of the bed in an oversized bed shirt, a towel in your hair as you just had a shower. Skin was warm and clean but no part of you felt settled. You replayed it all. The gym. Seth was flirting in the most awkward way but Shawn saw it all. He stared and then he left. He didn't intervine like before. He just left. 

It had been four days since he dropped you. Four days of you keeping your head down, walls up. You thought you were doing the right thing by giving him space. By pretending none of this mattered. 

However, pretending didn't make it better. It made it lonely. 

You didn't even know what you wanted anymore. Closure? An apology? For him to show up at your door and say he made a mistake? 

You sighed, leaning forward as your elbows were on your knees, hands were tangled in your own hair as part of you still hated that he pulled away, that you weren't worth fighting for and yet...another part of you...

Still wanted him. That young girl who watched Shawn Michaels wink at the audience at every show. The woman who grew to love the kind old soul he was. Yes, you tormented his happiness in the beginning but deep down, you wanted to marry him. You had always wanted to marry him. You hated how easily he haunted your thoughts. The way he had touched you like he always meant to belong to you.

And maybe...you still deep down hoped that he did. 

As you were lost in your thoughts, your phone began to buzz. You didn't check it as it was probably nothing but there was a buzz in your chest, a tight pull taking you towards your phone. 

You reached for it. 

One message. 

Shawn. 

'I'm in Room 608. If you want to talk, I'll be there.'

No greeting. No apology. Just...if you want to talk. You stared at the screen for a long time. Your thumb hovered over, not over reply but over delete. How dare he. He has no right to summon you like this. No right to show in your inbox acting like things were simple.

However, you felt it. That pull. You could have ignored it and said no.

Instead you sighed.

You stood and started to get dressed.

-

The hotel was quiet at this hour of the night and every other performer was either out or asleep. Your footsteps echoed down the corridor, muffled slightly by the cheap carpet. You hadn't bothered dressing up. All you had on was soft joggers, a hoodie and the same scuffed sneakers you always wore after hours. You didn't wear makeup. You didn't fix your hair. You were past trying to impress him. 

Still, your heart just wouldn't stop racing. 

If you want to talk, I'll be there.

No pressure. No explanation. It lingered heavy in your chest.

You shouldn't have come but you needed answers. Closure. Something. Your fingers curled around your sleeve as you turned the corner and found yourself staring down the long stretch of rooms. Each door looked the same. Each number identical, except for a digit or two. But, you saw it. 608. 

You stood outside his door, staring at the brass number like it held the secrets of the universe inside of it. Your fist hovered, pausing in the air, suspended between anger and longing. 

But eventually, you awoke from your daydream and knocked. 

Soft, but certain. 

There was silence but then you heard it, the sound of soft movement. A lock turning. A breath held and then then the door cracked open and there he was, Shawn. His hair slightly messy. Hoodie slung over a t-shirt. Barefoot, tired, and blinking at your like he didn't quite believe you were real. 

"Hey," he said, voice rough with nerves, "You came," 

You looked up at him, pulse hammering in your throat. 

"Don't make me regret this,"

Without a word, Shawn stepped asisde to let you in. The room was dim, had the fainted smell of cedar soap, something warm that felt like him. You stepped in slowly, cautiously as if the whole room would shatter around you if you weren't careful . The door clicked shut behind you. He didn't press. Didn't move closer. Just stood there, giving you space to find your footing. You turned to face him, his eyes were already on yours searching you expression. He wasn't pleading or pushing for you back. He just looked tired.

"I didn't come here to fight," you said.

"I know," Shawn replied. His voice was quiet, almost reverent, "I didn't ask you here to win you back. I just..." He swallowed hard,his throat visbly working, "I didn't want you to go to bed tonight thinking I didn't care..."

You didn't respond right away. You walked past him, slow and steady, and sat down on the edge of the bed. It dipped under your weight. You rested your elbows on your knees and stared at the carpet. He sat too. Not too close but just enough to feel like he was on your side of your room. 

"I don't know what we are doing..." you said softly, "I don't even know what I'm doing here..."

"I know..." 

Silence stretched btween you like an old thread. Fraying at the seams. Fragile. Waiting to snap. 

Then, quietly, he added, "You looked at me like I was a stranger,

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the flood of feelings threatening to rise again, "You behaved like a stranger. You let me fall,"

He nodded. He seemed accepting of the truth. Not denying it anymore. 

"I thought I was protecting you..."

"That's not your call to make," you whispered.

Shawn looked down, his eyes fixed on a spot in the carpet as if it was going to give him answers to this arguement. There were no answers. Only the weight between the two of you. 

"I know that," he said, voice barely above a breath. 

The silence that followed wasn't angry. It wasn't cruel. It was that kind of quiet that came after a storm, when everything is still damp, still raw, no longer a trainwreck that was crashing right in front of everyone's eyes. You weren't sure if that made it better or worse. You shifted, your hands clasped loosely in your lap. 

"It hurt," you admitted, "The way you looked through me. Like, I was just something to step around..." 

His eyes lifted slowly, daring to meet yours, "It wasn't supposed to be like that,"

"It felt like that," 

Shawn let out a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair, "I didn't know what to do. I panicked. And instead of handling it like a man, I just... shut down, like a corward," 

You didn't offer comfort. You weren't ready for that but your expression softened a little bit, "You were the one person I dind't want to shut me out," 

"I know," he said, "And I did.  I did the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't do,"

You stared at him for a long moment. You didn't know if this was forgiveness. It didn't feel like it. But maybe it was the start of something else. Understanding, maybe. The painful kind. Slowly, you reached out. Not fully and not boldy but just enough so that your fingers brushed his where they rested between you. His hand twitched beneath yours, but he didn't pull away. 

"I don't need you to be perfect," you murmured, "But I needed you to stay. And you didn't,"

He nodded. It looked like it took everything in him to say, "I'm sorry,"

You didn't say it was okay because it wasn't. But, your fingers curled slightly holding onto his. Just for a moment. Neither of you moved. Neither of you knew what tomorrow would look like but right now you were both right here, right now.

[quillneriine]

For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

With so many universes, Optimus Prime and Megatron will always find each other. This may or may not be good for the SG Megatrons of the multiverse. Otherwise known as, me writing about the marriages of five different OPMegs because I can.

"I will use my free time to write that Primes fic" I said, but I lied because I didn't have a single free time this entire April and now that I do… I was craving OPMeg lmaooo. So y'all can have this instead. I should really write for baseline but I love Shattered Glass so much, and like honestly I feel most baseline Megatrons would rather die than let these scenarios happen to them lmao. But yeah, hope y'all enjoy this, I mostly did this for myself lmao.

There will be some explanations at the end (though in the Ao3 not on this Tumblr post).

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64957660

TF:One - Denial

The conjunxing ceremony was to be broadcasted to all of Iacon. A promise that there would be no war. That all was forgiven. The High Guard were allowed back in the city that had been their home. The Iaconians tried to adjust to their new lives, the reintegration of newly-cogged mechs and the demolition of the mines being the primary objective now that peace had been restored. Even the dissenters, the ones still lived, were released from their jail cells - barely escaping execution. An ordinary citizen could not be faulted for thinking about how blessed by Primus this day was.

Perhaps it was, but not for Megatron. He stood by a window, his servos pressed against the glass as he stared out - not at Iacon - but rather towards the open sky of the surface above. His wings felt heavy against his back, though he knew very well that he would never feel the wind against his wing panels ever again. Yet as he considered the High Guard, his mentors who had taken him in and loved him, he knew he could not feel too much regret. After all, he was the one who proposed this ceremony in the first place.

“Sweetspark~” He felt arms wrap around his neck cables, a heavy frame pressing against his back. The Prime loomed behind him, a grin spread across his face. Megatron noted the lack of battlemask… a shame, he would have preferred to see it over the scorch marks that the Prime sported - ones that he had caused. “The staff were looking all over the Tower for you. I nearly offlined a mech when they told me you were missing. Not getting cold pedes, are you?”

There was an underlying threat underneath the joking tone, a dark glint in Optimus’ red optics.

“No. I only needed some venting room.” Megatron grumbled out, gritting his dentae as he forced a smile on his face. “Why would I want to run from my Prime?”

“Oh, Dee, why would you run from me indeed?” The Prime leaned his intake closer to Megatron’s audials, his voice soft. Their past still lingered in the air between them. “We both know what will happen if you do.”

The problem with ensuring the High Guard’s place back in Iacon was that they both knew that the Prime could easily kill them if Megatron were to step out of line. 

For them, Megatron would endure this ceremony… and being the Prime’s for the rest of their lives. He offlined his optics, letting the Prime press against him closer. He felt a helm nuzzle against his back and his future conjunx began to purr, content to hold him tightly in his arms. Megatron could pretend to be happy. He’s endured life underneath Sentinel’s reign before, he could endure this new life underneath a new tyrant’s reign.

And well… if Megatron could shut off his processor for a bit, he could almost pretend the arms that held him - that loved him - were Pax’s.

—

The conjunxing ceremony was utterly perfect. Optimus had ensured that. He didn’t want his special day with his beloved to be ruined because some incompetent bot couldn’t do their job. Call him obsessive but he had wanted nothing to go wrong. Everything had to be perfect, he finally got Dee back and he wanted to show the other mech just how wonderful their new lives could be now that he was Prime. Dee had smiled the entire time, so everything must have been done right. Now though, they were both in their shared berth together, basking in each other’s warmth.

Dee had quickly fallen into recharge, exhausted after everything that happened. Optimus didn’t mind, he liked being able to hold his conjunx - and the thought of that made him smile - in his arms. He used to dream about this when they were still cogless miners. They’d had nothing but each other then. Optimus leaned closer, resting Dee’s helm against his chassis as he listened to the soft rumbling of his engine and the soft thrumming of Dee’s spark close to his. For a good while, he thought he had lost Dee, that he would never get to hold him again.

“I’m happy you’re back, Dee.” He pressed a kiss to the top of his conjunx’s helm, gently stroking at his wing panels. When Dee had left with the High Guard, Optimus had thought his spark would die out for a second time. He had been desperate to get him back, enough so he could hardly run Iacon that he had to rely on Elita and Bee - which stung considering that he was the Prime and Primus would have been disappointed in him. Who knew that threatening to start a war against the High Guard would bring Dee back to him?

He hadn’t even wanted to keep the High Guard alive when Dee proposed the conjunxing ceremony. Optimus wanted to rip them all into pieces like he had Sentinel. He wanted them all offlined for being traitors to the Primacy and for stealing Dee from him… but Dee had cried so sweetly for him that Optimus couldn’t help but cave to his commands. He’d like to believe that it was because his conjunx was such a softspark that he wanted his own captors to be spared, even if Optimus still worried that the High Guard had twisted Dee’s perception of him.

Pressing the other mech closer to himself, Optimus let out a soft vent. At least they were together now. Glancing down at his conjunx, he couldn’t help but coo as he noticed tear tracks against Dee’s cheekplates. He reached out a servo, wiping at the cleaning agent that leaked from Dee’s optics. He must be having bad dreams in his recharge. Was he worried that he would wake back up on the surface and Optimus wouldn’t be there?

“It’s okay, Dee. We’re together again.” He murmured softly, “I’m right here… you’re safe… and I am never letting you go again.”

================================================

TF: Bayverse - Anger

Optimus did not require a Lord High Protector. He knew not why it was an insisted upon tradition in the Primacy, another custom he will have to rectify once he fully took control from Sentinel. However, the tradition did have its merits and he would not have met the love of his life if it were not for this particular custom. As was meant to be, Sentinel had arranged for candidates to present themselves before him, and he would choose which one of them was to become his Lord High Protector. Truthfully, he had not been paying attention to any.

Until Megatron. His attention had wavered, focused instead on his goals for the future when the other mech had entered the room. Unlike the others who had immediately knelt at his feet, pledging their lives for their future Prime - a vow that all Cybertronians ought to consider coded within themselves already and so it hardly impressed him - Megatron had strode up to him without fear. He had stood there silently, an imposing presence that Optimus had finally deigned the other mech his gaze. Blue optics stared cooly into his own before Megatron lifted his chinplate high, a picture of confidence.

“My Prime.” Despite his large frame, the other mech’s voice was so soft that Optimus had to strain to hear it. Megatron had not uttered another word, turning away so he could begin the combat simulation. The sheer rudeness and audacity of the other mech caused Optimus to put all his attention on him. At the beginning, he thought of the many ways he could have the other punished for his insolence. Yet the longer he watched the other mech fight gracefully, his anger had begun to subside as he found himself enthralled by the fluidity of the other mech.

Megatron had not even introduced himself after it was over. Optimus had to lower himself and ask Sentinel for the mech’s designation - which delighted the older mech for he had taken it as Optimus showing interest in a potential Lord High Protector. He had endured Sentinel’s cheerfulness, if it helped convey his want for the other mech, then so be it. Optimus did want Megatron. He had to admit that while he had watched the other mech spar, he had not paid attention if he was a good fighter. No, he had focused on how it nearly looked like dancing.

He had no interest in a Lord High Protector. Yet Megatron had caught his optic. His moves had been graceful, and despite his rough stature, he clearly held a gentleness underneath. It disgusted him to think that such a sweet spark would ruin themselves with fighting. He thought Megatron would have been better off as a civilian mech. He would have thrived there instead of becoming a soldier. Still, at least him being a soldier had led him straight into Optimus’ arms.

No, Optimus did not want a Lord High Protector.

But a queen?

He wouldn’t be opposed to that.

—

Megatron pressed a servo against the open gash on his frame, growling and cursing at the damned Prime for leading him to this point in his life. He could hear the loud blaring from the console as the ship continued to alert him that crashdown was imminent. As if he needed anymore reminders that he was doomed. Letting out a hiss, he wrenched himself from the ground as he left the main control room. He needed to ensure that the Allspark was safely secured before the ship crashed. Primus help him, he hoped it didn’t land on a populated planet.

Nearly tearing the door panels open, Megatron stalked into the room, letting out a quiet vent as the Allspark remained where it was - unmoved even as the ship continued to plummet. Leaning against the wall, he allowed himself to rest even as his anger tore through his HUD. If he had been younger, he may have ripped the remains of the ship to pieces. It wouldn’t have mattered since there was nothing to be done about repairing it. However, years of being a docile “queen” had rewired his programming that his anger was not as destructive as it had been.

Offlining his optics, he let out a tired whirr as he slid to the ground. He could feel the rage thrumming in his spark… but it wasn’t his own. His Prime must have realized what he had done by now, though Megatron could not bring himself to care. This needed to be done for the sake of their entire species. Cybertron had already been lost, the Allspark cannot be destroyed too. Even if it meant going against his Prime, Megatron had to do this. He could only hope that his loyal mechs would be able to escape the Prime’s wrath. 

He should have known something was wrong with the Prime when he had first disregarded the old Cybertronian traditions. Megatron had not necessarily wanted to be the Lord High Protector, though it would have been an honor. Although that was his official title to the people, behind closed doors, the Prime insisted that Megatron wasn’t his Lord High Protector - but rather his queen. Megatron had gritted his teeth and took it in stride… that was before Optimus had killed Sentinel and began to introduce new laws to Cybetron. Megatron truly snapped once Optimus had led their planet to its destruction.

He had said that he thought Cybertronians should not be confined to one planet, that they had the capacity to rule over large planetary systems, entire universes even. Optimus had dared to even decide to destroy the Allspark to prove his point. Which has led Megatron to this point, running away from his Prime with the Allspark. He would crash on some backwater planet, far from his home… and perhaps would even die at the impact. But it did not matter.

He was the Lord High Protector.

And he’d be damned if he let Optimus lead their people into extinction.

================================================

TF: Earthspark - Bargaining

“Me for the Decepticons.” His words were hollow as they rang out in the open air between them. Megatron stared resolutely at the other mech in front of him, not daring to let a single emotion appear on his face. He would not give the Prime that satisfaction. Red optics peered down at him, as if the other could not believe what he was hearing. Unable to contain himself, Megatron let out an annoyed vent, “Did you hear me, Optimus Prime? This is an offer. You will release the Decepticons, let them return to Cybertron, and I will be yours.”

“While the offer is tempting…” He felt the other mech draw closer, clawed servos reaching behind him to grasp at his wings. Megatron bit the tip of his glossa, pushing down the urge to shudder as Optimus began to run his digits through sensitive panels. The Prime had wasted no time to press close to him, their EM fields intermingling as their frames were close enough to share warmth. Megatron was grateful that he was spared the indignity of having his Decepticons watch himself be so debased. “How do I know you won’t fly away as soon as they’re free?”

“Unlike you, Optimus, I am a mech of my word.” They both knew this was merely the Prime’s attempt at banter. Megatron would never dare compromise his Decepticon’s lives. Letting out a tired vent, he reached out his servo, gripping at the Prime’s arm. “You can install an inhibitor chip on my wings, if you must. Rip them out, if you so please. Let my mechs go and you can do what you want with me.”

As he laid down his offer once again, a flicker of confusion crossed the Prime’s optics, a frown appearing on his face. To his surprise, the other mech withdrew his hold from his wings, taking a few pedesteps away as if… he was disgusted, though Megatron did not know what had caused such a reaction. The Prime had always commented on his wings before, so he had assumed that the other was obsessed with ensuring his conjunx-to-be (for Megatron was well aware of what the mech wanted from him) couldn’t ever fly away.

“What do you say, Prime?” He stepped closer, stopping only when the Prime jolted away.

What was his problem?

“You…” Red optics regarded him carefully, glancing up and down his frame. “You really would let me do that to you?”

Megatron frowned, somehow unsure now. If he didn’t know any better, he could swear it was Optimus who was being held at gunpoint with this offer. He didn’t know why the Prime was resisting unless…

Rolling his optics, Megatron bit the tip of his glossa once more before gritting out. “I will let you conjunx me. Just let my Decepticons go home.”

For a moment, he was answered with silence.

Then, the Prime did what Megatron had expected he would do.

Though, Optimus Prime didn’t look happy to accept the deal.

—

“You’re free.”

He watched Megatron reset his optics, his intake opening as if in disbelief. The other mech had been trapped within the Autobot base ever since he had exchanged himself for his Decepticons’ freedom. Yet now, in the dead of the lunar cycle, Optimus had led him towards the front entrance and had opened the door  - gesturing for him to go. Megatron stood at the opening, the silver of the moonlight glinting off his frame as he tried to see what trickery Optimus was planning. But there wasn’t any… because Optimus wanted him to leave. He wanted him free.

“I love you, you know… I… I really do.”

Optimus lowered his gaze, his dermas almost quivering as tears threatened to escape him. He knew must look pathetic to the other mech, yet he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t bring himself to feel more shame as he let his emotions show. He was already full of regret and disgust at himself, at having agreed to this deal in the first place. He should have said no when Megatron had proposed it, but how could he have when Megatron had offered him his spark… though that was never truly the case.

“I have longed for you all these centuries, all these millennia… When you offered yourself, how could I have resisted? I want you so much… but now I see I cannot have you this way. I want your happiness more than I want you. I love you too much to force you to stay with me.”

He thought he could force himself to live with it, but the longer Megatron had stayed confined in his quarters, the more Optimus felt terrible. He hated how miserable the other mech looked, how he forced himself to smile around Optimus each time he tried to hold the other in his embrace. How could he possibly conjunx Megatron when he knew the other mech did not want him? He could not live with the sparkbreak of that.

“You’re free to go. I won’t chase after you. I won’t have the Autobots follow you.”

He turned to leave, yet Optimus couldn’t bring himself to continue walking. He looked over his shoulder, noticing that Megatron’s shadow still loomed over him - as if the mech hadn’t left yet. Unsure, he voiced out the question that has been haunting him all these lunar cycles.

“I love you, but you don’t love me… Do you ever think… you could?”

There was a long stretch of silence, and he thought the other had left, but then he heard Megatron’s soft voice.

“If you change… not for me, but for your own sake… then maybe.”

He heard the tell-tale noise of the other entering his flight form, the loud whirr of a jet, and he knew the other was gone.

Optimus didn’t know how long he stood in the shadows of that hallway, Megatron’s words lingering in his mind.

Change…?

Was that possible for someone like him?

… Should he try?

================================================

TF: Prime - Depression

He mourns the dead. 

He mourns for Orion Pax.

Megatron spends a lot of time alone on the Nemesis, though he knew he couldn’t afford to let his sadness consume him for too long. The Decepticons needed him, and he had a war to win. They had lost far too much for him to lose himself in his despair. Besides, he knew if Unicron had it his way, Megatron could not spend far too long in his mourning. The god already willingly assists them by providing Purple Energon, he wouldn’t want his efforts at helping Megatron be put to waste.

Yet after… everything, he felt he could be afforded this moment of peace for a little longer. Megatron let out another vent, pressing his helm against the cool metal table as the memories of what had happened rewound in his processor. For so long, he had deluded himself to believe that when Orion Pax had taken in the Matrix all those cycles ago, he was still in there somewhere, because the mech that returned had not been the conjunx he loved. No longer was he the sweet, though sometimes clingy and possessive, archivist that Megatronus had fallen in love with.

When the Prime had lost his memories and returned as Orion Pax, Megatron had thought that somehow he had gotten his conjunx back… but it was a cruel trick. The mech that had stayed aboard, that Megatron had willingly to stay, was not Orion Pax. He couldn’t have been. Another trick from Primus to get Megatron to put down his guard. At least he had not had to personally deal with the Prime himself, even though he knew it was a cowardly move. He had wanted to observe “Orion” first before he revealed himself as the leader of the Decepticons.

Yet the longer “Orion” had stayed on the Nemesis, the more angry he got. This wasn’t the archivist he knew. “Orion” had been so furious when he had heard about the war from Soundwave, and had demanded to know where Megatronus was, where his conjunx was. Megatron had not revealed himself then, even though he knew the other mech must have been grieving for his “missing” conjunx. Megatron had only shown himself once it all came to a destructive end, with “Orion” nearly attacking poor Starscream who was trying to calm him down from leaving the Nemesis and scouring Earth.

“Orion” had visibly calmed down when he saw Megatron, though he had been “horrified” to find out that Megatron was one of the leaders of the war. He had tried to convince Megatron to leave with him, to run away together. That was when Megatron decided to cast him out of the Nemesis and back to Earth. It was nothing but a trick, a deception, from Primus to get Megatron to surrender - and once he did, there would be no stopping the Autobots.

Megatron tried to shake the memories away, but he couldn’t help but cry as they replayed again.

—

He mourns the living.

He mourns for Megatronus.

A millennia of a life gone, Optimus should feel anger, yet he was honored that he had been chosen by Primus - and that this time, he was allowed to remember. Still, he could not help but grieve the cycles he had lost underneath the Matrix’s influence, though really Primus hadn’t meant to use his frame as a puppet since he too had no say in who would become Prime. It was the Senate and Alpha Trion with their ambitions… Optimus wishes he could kill them again for what they did to him.

He knew he couldn’t let himself continue on this way. It was bad enough that the Autobots were beginning to question leadership, claiming he may have been misled or influenced by his brief time with the Decepticons on the Nemesis. He understood why they were hesitant to follow him now. After all, Optimus was a different mech to Orion, though they were now one and the same. He had changed a lot from the cold leader they had known. Optimus had been stoic and empty, a mere shell piloted by the Matrix. Orion had his own dreams he still wanted.

He had not enjoyed his time on the Nemesis, but at least now he was whole. The Matrix and Optimus now working together in symbiosis. He had a lot to change if he wanted to finish this war. It may have been a terrible situation, but being on the Nemesis had granted him - and thus the Autobots - a few leverages. For instance, he now knew the identity of the Decepticon leader. For millennia, it had plagued Primus who was opposing his Prime, but now they knew it was merely Orion’s poor grieving conjunx - still fighting for freedom and civil rights.

In the past, Orion had been by his conjunx’s side through it all, but now he sees a different path. He could grant his conjunx’s wish. A world of peace and freedom… but to achieve that, one needed someone to ensure order, and that was his promise as his conjunx’s Prime. It pained him to see Megatronus lost in this war. It hurt him to know that he was so far gone that he had refused his offer to run away together. Optimus, now completely whole with Orion’s memories, didn’t know why his conjunx was being so difficult about this.

His poor darling poet… though he had been a gladiator, they both knew he had never enjoyed the senseless fighting. Yet this war had changed them both. Optimus let out a soft vent, replaying the memories of his time in the Nemesis. He could almost see the tear tracks that had left their permanent marks on his conjunx’s face, and Optimus felt his spark break at the thought his Megatronus had been suffering for all these millennia without him. 

Fine, he will finish this war.

For his poor conjunx, he’ll ensure a world where he’ll never have to fight again.

================================================

TF: IDW - Acceptance

Optimus had kept a recording of the trial, no matter how disastrous it had been. He should have known that Megatron would have taken the opportunity to reassure his Decepticons that their fight was not over, that for as long as there was a bot alive that believed in their cause, then tyranny would never win. It had taken an embarrassingly long time for someone to disrupt the broadcast, and whoever was responsible for that had been quickly dealt with. Optimus did not have the patience for bots who could not do their work correctly, especially during that crucial moment.

Only after he had Ratchet silence Megatron’s voice box did Optimus allow the trial to begin again. Everyone knew it was a farce from the beginning, while Megatron had committed many war crimes against his fellow Cybertronians… who hadn’t, really? And the Autobots had done far worse. He had done worse - though Optimus was only really assuring Primus’ will. If it meant some bots had to die to ensure order, then Optimus would gladly take on the role of executioner. Still, with the trial, Optimus had never intended Megatron’s final sentence to be death. Why waste such a precious spark?

“To atone for your crimes against Cybertronians and the Primacy…” He heard his own voice on the recording, yet Optimus only half-listened as he continued on with his work. Megatron’s frame shook underneath him, the warmth of his energon coating Optimus’ servos as he continued to rip through the other mech’s wings. He had envisioned this scene a long time ago, ever since Megatron had chosen to leave his side. Really, Optimus had been patient, they both knew this was how it was all going to end. As if Optimus would have ever let his conjunx-to-be go without a fight.

“You are being granted amnesty… As Primus wills it, I, Optimus Prime, sentence you to the fate of becoming my conjunx. May you find peace in this new role that I have mercifully granted you…” The Decepticons would undoubtedly know that the trial was rigged, but it wasn’t about actual justice. It was about embarrassing their leader, it was about demoralization, and it was a reminder that Megatron was his. Always has been. Always will be. He may have refused Optimus in the past, but he had only delayed the inevitable. Optimus always gets what he wants in the end.

Tearing through another wing panel, Optimus couldn’t help but grin as Megatron’s intake opened in a silent scream. The recording of the trial had ended, so now he could put all his focus on attending to his conjunx-to-be. The conjunxing ceremony was approaching soon and Optimus had to help Megatron prepare. His voice box had already been silenced. The veil he was meant to wear had already been chosen. All that was really left was to tear Megatron’s pretty blue wings right off his frame.

He couldn’t risk Megatron flying off. Optimus would gladly help him accept his new reality.

—

Megatron could feel the weight of the Prime’s arm over his frame, and though he knew the other was deep into recharge, he could not help but keep his venting to a minimum. He did not dare to move, though he could not tell if his frame was shaking. He was exhausted, really, yet he worried what may happen if he allowed himself to relax around the Prime. Still, from the warning in his HUD, he knew that a shutdown was imminent and from the way his frame was overheating, it was inevitable that he would be forced into recharge.

The conjunxing ceremony had surprisingly not been broadcasted like the trial. Aside from a few Autobots and captured Decepticons, it had been a private affair. After all these millennia, it appeared that the Prime still did not like to share. It sickened Megatron to know that despite everything, he could still predict the other’s move. It had not surprised him at all in the trial that Optimus would pull a stunt like this. It did not even surprise him that Optimus had ripped off his wings, though they were now repaired and installed with an inhibitor chip. He expected this.

“You’re thinking too hard, sweetspark.” A voice murmured into his audials. He let himself be pulled onto his back, red optics gazing down at him as the Prime moved to loom over him. Megatron wanted nothing more than to shout at him, yet his voice box had not yet been restored. “Even when silenced, you still have a lot on your processor. Well, I didn’t fall for a stupid mech after all. Once you’re more agreeable, I’ll let Ratchet fix your voice box. I miss our debates.”

With that admission, Megatron bared his dentae, which only elicited laughter from the Prime who leaned over him. He felt a servo rest against his chassis, pressing him deeper into the berth.

“Or maybe I’ll keep you like this. I will miss your voice but I would rather my conjunx not scream delusional accusations at me for the rest of my life.” Optimus vented wistfully, as if reminiscing old memories that Megatron wanted nothing more than to forget. “Well either way…”

Megatron tried to turn his helm, his spark running cold as Optimus leaned a little closer, their dermas nearly touching. He could feel the other’s weight and heat bearing down on him, crushing him in the intensity. His HUD began to flash red, signalling that his exhaustion had caught up to him.

As his systems began to shut down, he felt the Prime lean down and kiss him softly - as though they truly were conjunxes. Before he could completely go offline, Optimus let go and leaned towards his audials. “Either way… so long as I have you with me, it doesn’t matter if you can speak or not. I have you, and you’re never leaving me again.”

As he was forced into recharge, Megatron thought death would have been preferable to this.

[ribbonsssence]

angel dating headcanons ──── ୨୧ ────

notes ﹒ just wanted to do this as a warm-up cause I've never written headcanons yet, ermm, might do a ronin one next!!! since I haven't even written for any of the main/side casts of KC other than angel literally.. pls request me,,,,

content includes ﹒ angel x reader ; established relationship ; fluff ; minor arguments

✦ Ever since your established relationship with Angel, you frequent to her house or vice-versa (but it's often the former). She gives you gentle encouragement offline and online; she likes the gestures and answers you reply, it makes her feel reassured of your current demeanor. ✦ Angel's a model and has a channel, so technically: she gets paid — a lot. Although, she knows your type of gifts and only buys those that she knows you will appreciate very much. Considering her busyness, her time with you often becomes underwhelming which results in her insecurity and regret for not being able to spend time with you. Hence, she'll sometimes buy you an apology gift, and a side recovering your quality time with her. ✦ Angel likes to use pet names, she doesn't overdo the usage, but she has a couple of pet names she uses for you; she prefers calling you the sweet types being "my love," "babe," and would even call you pet names in Spanish such as "mi rey" and "corazón." Just in the courtesy of her loving affection towards you.

✦ Angel prefers private dates, not that she is opposed to having a date in public, it's just that she's well too known and recognized in public sadly. Additionally, simple dates are already the best for her. Watching a movie at either your homes is already enough for her. ✦ Your first date with Angel was a picnic at a secluded spot near her house, it was midnight and the stars shone brighter than ever. You were quite glad, this date was your idea in the first place, and Angel was loving it. The iridescent moonlight embraced the gleaming radiance of the stars, it was tinted with a blue to purple hue with bright streaks, clear in the moonless vast sky. In the end, you and Angel enjoyed the beauty and peace of the starry night sky while the both of you chattered about trivial matters.

✦ Angel's love language is quality time and acts of service (said by the rosesrot!). As the ever-busy Maria de la Rosa, she yearns for the moments she could spend with you. When her mind isn't preoccupied, it drifts to thoughts of you — imagining your touch, the warmth of your presence, and the comfort of simply being together. ✦ In regards to her acts of service, she will always give. Oh! Some man is pestering you? Consider him done dead in a ditch! That being said, she's never been into the receiving when it comes to the acts of service since no one has really done that for her but it actually does make her contented.

✦ Arguments with Angel don't frequently happen, but it's usually about Angel's busyness or health in general. The arguments never last or worsen more. In the end, Angel can never get mad at you, nor can you at her. You will always be her safe haven and she will always be your safe haven too. ✦ The worst argument that occurred between you and Angel ended abruptly and took a day of silence from Angel to ponder about her feelings and thoughts, just to apologize and cry out her true feelings in your warm embrace. The both of you have an emotional evening (mostly for Angel) for the rest of the day.

✦ Angel's support for you never wavers. It doesn't matter if you're not a serial killer like her, she'll be the one to kill for you anyway. She'd devour every moment of between you and her, your existence consumes her heart as a whole.