#that the robot might not be ready for anyway

[true-blue-sonic]

How would Silver deal with a robot designed to defeat him in the same vein Omega did with Shadow in 06?

Hmm, would that have to mean he was on good terms with the robot first before it got reprogrammed to capture him? I'm actually wondering just how Omega managed to defeat and capture Shadow... I know Omega was made specifically by Eggman to keep Shadow contained, but Shadow is the Ultimate Lifeform and insanely strong on top. In a battle between them, I am not sure if Omega can come out as victor. Was that ever touched upon in '06?

That being said, if there's a robot that can defeat Shadow, I think it's not impossible to create one that can defeat Silver. I figure it'd be smart of its creator to make one that directly plays into Silver's PK, either through no-selling or countering it, as that is Silver's main mode of attack in most games. As for what Silver would think of it, I do think he'll take the threat seriously once he sees that this robot can absolutely have a victory over him. For all his black-and-white thinking, I figure even Silver knows that if he's defeated and captured, that is it for the safety of the future. It's not something I can imagine he's willing to risk! Thus, retreating from the battle might be his best choice, though I doubt he'll be happy with that. But better to live to fight another day, I do suppose!

[bmpmp3]

i was like. thinking about the software situation with the cryptonloids and i got curious if there was any progress on the non-miku NT banks yet so i went to listen to those vocals they use in that mobile game (if i remember correctly they use beta versions unreleased to the public?) and like. you know. despite how contentious miku nt herself is i think some of the betas for the others sound pretty good, len sounds fantastic and rin sounds about on par with her older banks (although i do miss a bit of her sharpness) and like. i may be killed with hammers for this but i was listening to the heat abnormal cover and i think i like the kaito nt beta sound more than his v3 like he sounds fantastic here. i dont dislike his v3 or anything but the nt bits ive heard has like some of the depth and richness i so sorely miss from his v1 while having the old-yamaha-keyboard-keyboard-key-spring sound that i do enjoy of his v3.... i do wish it had more of the v1 strength tho

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know you?

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: In the aftermath of a brief Kidnapping, Red Hood seems to think your important and wont stop hanging around your apartment.

Or in other terms, Jason got scared you were gonna die and doesn’t want to leave you alone

Notes: Reader is a waitress at a local bookstore/coffee shop that Jason frequents and he has grown very fond of her. They are vague acquaintances And she does not know that Jason is Red Hood. This is literally my first-ever attempt at a fanfic and Jason Todd has been rattling around in my brain. I might attempt to make this like a short series or something. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyed!!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

“I think I have a new favorite stalker,” you say loudly out your open window.

 Keeping your window open in Gotham was probably the worst idea you could ever have but your curiosity got the better of you when started to notice the fleeting red hanging out across the street and occasionally on your fire escape over the past two weeks. At first you were worried considering your recent encounter with Scarecrow as an attempted research rat.

However, the longer the red stayed near the easier it became to recognize. His helmet was shiny, which is what made it so easy to spot him. How that was helpful to a vigilante you didn’t know. Red hood was watching you and you had a feeling it was to make sure you were okay. You had heard of other bats checking on Civilians after traumatic incidents when they could, but every night for two weeks seems a bit excessive and he hasn’t actually talked to you. So what was he doing?

With no response to your jab, you lean out your window and repeat yourself, making a point to stare at the red helmet on the building across the street.

“I said I think I have a new favorite stalker!” You continue to stare him down.

Even in the minimal street lighting you can see his body tense, ready to run.

“Maybe he’d like to chat?” you tilt your head in questioning. You don’t why you asked. You were bad at keeping a regular conversation. If he came over and did, in fact, decide to chat, it might end up a short conversation. 

A clattered thud pulls you from your thoughts and you gaze turns from the opposite roof top to the very large man now standing on your fire escape next to your window. You can’t help but stare at him. 6” something and built like a brick wall. Intimidating even leaning against the building.

Was he this big when he saved me?

“Hi?” is the only response you could muster. The urge to slam the window closed and shut your curtains itches at your finger tips. He stares at you, or at least you assume as much, the helmets white eyes giving away nothing. No wonder people were terrified of Red Hood. You haven’t even done anything wrong and you could wet yourself  right here and now.

“Hi” You don’t know why your shocked to hear the modulated voice. He had talked to when he saved you from Scarecrow but it was still strange to hear. Slightly robotic but definitely a person underneath.

You realize that, maybe, you’ve been staring for too long.

“Tea?” you back away from the window and head for the kitchen expecting him to follow, as well as taking a moment to breath.

You just invited a good/bad vigilante into your home! What is wrong with you?  Your mind is a swirling, anxious debate as you fill your kettle.

“I only have Green tea, I hope you don’t mind.” you yell from the kitchen, unsure if he was even in the apartment.

“Not at all” His voice is close then you anticipated, assuming he stay close to the window.

Instead you turn to find him sitting comfortably at your dining room table, watching you move about the kitchen. He looks out of place in your soft warm toned home. His brown leather jacket the only thing that could blend in. The harsh red bat on his chest sticking out like a sore thumb. Your gaze lingers a moment at the holsters on his thighs, suddenly realizing that if he wanted to do something to you, you were screwed. You turn back to your cabinets and pull out a couple of mugs, pushing away the thoughts. Red Hood was good guy, despite what previous attempts at bad he had in the past. You stand at the counter and stare at your kettle, willing it to heat faster. After a moment, You hear a distorted sigh.

“You wanted to talk?” Red Hood asks

You shrug your shoulders without turning, not entirely prepared for a conversation just yet. Red Hood doesn’t push you. The kettle begins to whistle, and you pour the two mugs, settling tea bags into them. You pick them up and set one in front of red hood, and settle into the seat opposite his, blowing on your tea. You take a sip and promptly burn your tongue, hissing in pain.

“it’s hot”

Your eyes fly up to Red Hood. You choke out a thanks, Having not realized he had taken off his Helmet. You let eye linger across his face, very handsome. A scar on his lips, that rests in a smirk, and another across his cheek. As you eye move up you let out a startled laugh, Another mask keeps his eyes hidden.

“What?” He asks, The smirk on his lips grows.

As your laughing fit slows, you pause to breath.

“You wear two masks.” You pause waiting for him to laugh. All he does is furrow his brows.

“it’s funny” you insist but he doesn’t respond. You settle down again. Well as much as you can considering the man in front of you, staring at your mug, slightly embarrassed

“So I’m your favorite stalker? You got a few?” Red's voice rings out in the silence. It’s rough and deep, like he’d been yelling.

A flush creeps up your face. If you were embarrassed before, you were definitely embarrassed now. It had taken you all day to come up with the throw away comment. You thought It was funny. You also didn’t think you would get this far in your interaction with Red Hood.

“Not really, just the one I hope” you chance a glance at him to find him still unsettlingly staring at you as a he takes a sip of his tea, now cooled. Your mind searches for what else to say.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that either” Jason finally breaks eye contact with you, looking around your apartment.

With his stare no longer on you, you take the opportunity to really take him in. Despite the scars on his face, there was kindness there. And despite his intimidating stature, he seemed to pull himself in, like he was afraid to take up space. His forearms exposed through his suit. What a weird design. Not that you were complaining. Overall, Red Hood was hot. You flush at the thought.

“Thank you, by the way” you rush out, “for saving me… it really means a lot”

Jason turns his gaze back to you. You brave up and hold his stare. Suddenly thinking, he looks familiar. You furrow your brows for a moment.

“Do I know you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You physically cringe and try to back track.

“I mean, obviously I know you, you saved my life and all but I mean like I know your face? Maybe, not that it matters. Course you wouldn’t tell me if I did know your civilian identity because then it wouldn’t be a secret. I just think I know your face but that doesn’t mean that I want you to tell me. And maybe you just have one of those faces…” you continue to ramble some more. Jason watches you carefully and finishes his tea. You pause to breath in your rant and he jumps in.

“Thanks for the tea” he grabs his Helmet, sliding it on before continuing, voice changed, “and your welcome, for saving you.”

You watches as he walks back toward the window, frozen and unsure what to do. As climbs out onto the fire escape you yell out.

“Your welcome and you don’t have to hide outside, you can come in next time.”

He’s gone before even finish the sentence. You sink back in your chair.

What is wrong with you? Why are you so awkward? That was terrible!

You try to push the interaction from your mind as you close the window and go about spot cleaning your apartment. Once done your anxious thoughts return.

This is going to be a long night. You think as you turn into bed.

[irisintheafterglow]

lot of pretty boys, lot of funny business!

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: sabrina carpenter - "15 minutes"

summary: hired to be your bodyguard, lying that he's simply your driver. this job might be more complicated than sakusa expected.

wc: 4.3k

cw/tags: heiress!reader x mma fighter!sakusa, written with fem!reader in mind but gn pronouns used, brief peril, violence and blood, explicit language, angst/fluff with happy ending, miya twins cameo lol

note: welcome once again to iris is missing her grumpy jacked bf hours. i am well aware no one asked for this...but here it is anyway! enjoy hehe

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

— WORK LOG [K. SAKUSA]: 7:42 P.M. Week 10 of 15. Success: No more than an hour in the mall. Failure: Basically acted as a butler for an hour. 

“You’re out of your mind if you actually think you’re going out in that.”

“It’s a birthday party, Omi, not a funeral. I’ll dress in however many sparkles I want,” you state stubbornly, giving him a spin in your salaciously flattering outfit. From the bottom of the stairs, he’s overjoyed that you can’t see the shades of pink dusting his face. “Well? What do you think?” 

“I think that if your parents were still in the country, they’d beat my ass for letting you out of the house wearing those shoes,” he deadpans to hide every indication that he couldn’t stop staring. Your excited expression abruptly drops into a disappointed frown and you cross your arms. “Get a jacket and we’ll leave. The leather one with the lapels would look nice.”

“If you think I look ugly, just say that,” you huff, stamping back to your room. 

“That’s not what I–Nevermind.” He sighs, running a hand down his face and checking the time on his watch. The party was already underway, no doubt. Sakusa would never be caught dead at a house on the infamous ‘frat road,’ much less the one owned by Daishou Suguru’s family, but every heir to a fortune worth gossiping about were expected to attend the celebration of the slithering son himself. Like you, Daishou Suguru carried a reputation with him on-campus that lingered wherever he went, leaving the air reeking of rumpled cash and Versace cologne. Whether they admitted it or not, every family wanted a piece of the Daishou inheritance, and they were willing to use all of their charm to secure it. 

Everyone, it seemed, except you.

“Is it really that bad?” You ask quietly, fidgeting with a piece of thread undone at the hem of your oversized leather jacket. The drive to the Daishou estate was painfully silent, especially when he suggested you turn on music and you just shook your head. In spite of himself, Sakusa was ready to veer you both off the road if it meant you’d just put on your stupid bubblegum-pop-princess shit and stop moping. 

“What?” Sakusa’s single-word answer comes out harsher than he wanted it to. You deflate a little more in your seat and he swallows thickly. Your voice is even quieter than before.

“My outfit. Is it really hideous?” You glance at him and see his fingers white-knuckle gripping the steering wheel of one of your family’s many sports cars. It was a perk that came with the job, driving fancy cars and eating in places his friends couldn’t afford with a full year’s paycheck. Komori joked that he might as well marry you to stay in the family, for the benefits and all. Sakusa’d thrown an empty energy drink can at his cousin’s head, but silently agreed that the perks were more enjoyable than he thought. Spending time with you, the untouchable heiress to the second-most wealthy family in the city, also proved to be more bearable than he presumed. 

“No,” he manages to force out. “No, it’s…It’s fine. You’re fine.” Idiot! If he weren’t busy being a robotically perfect patron of the road—in spite of his usual tendency to burn rubber with the skill of an F1 driver—he would slap himself. To your amusement, his composure slips enough for you to notice the way his eyes squeeze tight in pure embarassment of what he just said. 

“Fine?” You suppress a smirk, feeling a little more invigorated again. “You think I’m fine?”

“I’d be fine if you stopped talking for the rest of the ride,” he retorts weakly and you finally crack a smile. “Stop grinning like that, weirdo.”

“C’mon, let me have a little fun,” you tease. “We barely spent an hour in the mall getting me this dress, and I didn’t get to check out any of the new blind box shipments.”

“Because people kept coming up to you asking if they could tag along for your little shopping trip,” he points out. “The group by the food court asked me if I was just there to hold your bags. And then asked if I could hold their bags.” 

“True, but you were there to hold my bags and give me feedback on clothes.” 

“Neither of which were in this job description,” he reiterates tiredly. The car approaches a backroad devoid of obstacles, sloping down and then climbing into an easy hill that would be perfect for him to slam the gas. He exhales through his nose, instead taking the road at a speed that would make the slowest drivers honk angrily. You watch him with an unreadable expression. 

“You drive like my grandmother,” you declare after the only sound in the car was the roaring engine waiting to be called upon. 

“She must be a very safe driver then,” he monotones.

“She’s dead, so don’t consider that a compliment,” you quip and he rolls his eyes. Your spunk wasn’t in the job description, either. “So, are you gonna speed up or not?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I could get fired?” He replies in disbelief and you shrug like it wasn’t even a remote possibility. “And I need the money to pay for next semester.”

“If you need money, I could just give you some,” you say truthfully and he shakes his head, declining to answer like he always did. You look at him too softly, with too much care, and it bothers him like a punch to the solar plexus. He wasn’t used to having someone ask about his day, about if he’d eaten yet, about if his physics exam was truly as bad as he described. You were nothing like the prissy, spoiled brats that prowled about the university campus, and he couldn’t help but feeling guilty that he was getting paid to essentially be a close friend as well as a chauffeur. 

After what felt like an eternity, he was more than relieved to be pulling into the Daishou’s driveway. “I’m serious,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I have no idea where my dad found you, but I can always help pay for some of your stuff. It’s the least I can do since you’re always driving me around.” 

Right. You still thought he was just your driver. 

“I’m already getting paid by your dad,” he says, shutting off the car and taking a second to survey the swaths of people overflowing onto the front lawn. Every guest was wrapped in sickeningly bright shades of overconsumption, clutching red cups and swaying like palm trees in a strong wind. The Daishous’ valet approaches the vehicle and Sakusa steps out, crossing to open your door and offer his arm. “Really, don’t worry about it,” he assures you when you still have a skeptical pout. “Just have fun tonight and grab me if you need anything.”

— 11:16 P.M. Week 10 of 15. Success: Regulated drink count at Daishou’s party. Failure: Possible Miya presence (catastrophic).

The party is unsurprisingly predictable. He stays within fifteen feet of you at all times, stalking from corner to corner with a stone-cold expression that deters any drunks looking for a quick hookup. Sakusa watches you flit from one pack of rich kids to another, showering people with compliments and asking them about their lives in that painfully sociable way of yours. He even finds himself smiling as he watches you spray punch from one nostril after laughing at a close friend’s story, until an unwanted voice makes his eye twitch. 

“You know, it was a lot easier to sneak into this place than I thought it’d be!”

“Atsumu,” he acknowledges dryly, eyeing his friend’s completely unbuttoned shirt and holographic party hat with obvious disdain. His hair, usually so obnoxious, was getting practically washed out in all the other neons of the party. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Lighten up, Omi-omi. Believe it or not, I was invited.”

“For what? As an entertainer?” 

“It was one time. One time, I said I could make it as a stripper,” he protests as he throws an arm around Sakusa’s shoulders too casually to indicate sobriety. “To answer your question, no! I am not here to take my clothes off. At least, not in front of everybody.” Slightly disgusted, Sakusa realizes that he’s lost you in the crowd and sets his jaw, trying to stifle the panic in his chest.

“Go away, Atsumu. I need to do my job,” he orders and attempts to shrug off the imposing arm, but it’s in vain. The lights were strobing in Atsumu’s mind but no one was home. 

“Your job is to kick the shit out of people, those people being me, and ‘Samu, and Kuroo, and Bokuto, and—” 

“Do you always need to be making this much noise?”

“It’s to fill in the silence of your constant brooding, my friend.” Eventually, he tunes out Atsumu’s rambling and wordlessly shoves his way through the huddles of students, intuition guiding him out the kitchen side door. 

The scene he enters outside makes his heart drop into his stomach.

“Omi?” His heartrate increases instantaneously, all the blood rushing to his limbs and fists. He could feel it growing, the fiery energy shooting through every vein and into his brain until he becomes nothing more than a feral, fighting machine. You’re backed into a corner by who he recognizes as some of Daishou’s goons, low-life guys the asshole pretends to be friends with until they worship the ground he pisses on. “Omi, just go. Please,” your voice wavers and he could break a tooth from how hard he was clenching his jaw. The jacket he’d forced you to wear was clutched in the grip of one of the goons, probably from an attempt to grab you that you’d slipped away from. “I’m fine. Please, go.”

“Ah, this is awkward, isn’t it? I’m Atsumu, by the way!” His buzzed friend greets politely from behind him and, if he weren’t busy assessing the guys in front of him, Sakusa would be knocking the lights out of the idiot behind him. “You know,” Atsumu continues, his hands somehow finding their way to Sakusa’s shoulders and shaking him as if to break him from a trance. “You and I could take these guys so easily.” Your eyes narrow and he can tell you want to say something, but he was too busy trying to stifle the red growing in his vision to give you any kind of reasonable explanation. 

“What do you want with them?” He grits out and the guys scoff. 

“Daishou’s got a matter to discuss with ‘em. Said to bring them to talk by whatever means necessary,” one of them replies and Sakusa could feel his blood boiling as he unconsciously opens and closes his fists. “Even if they ran,” he sneers. His dark eyes dart to you. 

His first instinct is to walk away, money be damned. It would be wiser for him to turn his back and let the rich sort themselves out. You would hate him, but maybe that was for the best, and he could go back to bruised fists and broken cartilage to pay for the rest of his life—

No.

“You wanna talk to him? To Daishou?”

“Omi, go,” you plead. “It’s fine, I can figure it out.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Your bite your lower lip and he swears he catches your eyes start to get glossy. He’d apologize for his bluntness later; for now, he needed to get you into the car and away from this party. “Do you want to talk to Daishou? Yes or no.”

You whisper a terrified “no” that’s almost too quiet to hear.

“This dickhead thinks he can just decide shit around here,” another one of the goons says with a snide grin. “If Daishou wants something, Daishou gets it. Your poor ass wouldn’t get it. It’s only for us classy folk that get what we want.” 

He brushes a curl from his face.

Atsumu’s knuckles crack from behind him. 

“Want me to get ‘Samu?” The blonde Miya asks lowly, suddenly sober. As another fighter who brawled just to fund his schooling, the verbal attack struck deep. “Suna should be around too.” Sakusa shakes his head; he didn’t have time to wonder why all his fighting acquaintances were at this stupid party.

“No,” he replies with a cold tone that made you shiver in the humid summer night. “You got a car outside, ‘Tsumu?”

“Down the drive, yeah.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the gym,” he orders, stepping closer to the circle of opponents. They laugh and roll their shoulders back, anticipating a fun session with a willing punching bag. Sakusa doesn’t dare look you in the eyes, not ready to face the fact that he’d lied to you for months about why your father hired him. “Get them out and don’t let anyone stop you.”

“Why do you always get to have the fun?” 

“Atsumu,” he warns.

“Fine, fine, just don’t make a mess.” A flicker of a dangerously confident smirk tweaks the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t I always?”

He’s moving faster than anyone could react, pivoting and slamming the side of his shin into the back of the nearest goon’s knee. The guy falls to a knee and can’t even blink before he’s knocked out cold, the familiar warmth of blood and broken-nose crunch enveloping Sakusa’s senses. His body feels like it’s running at 150%, just as it always done when he’s fighting for his life in the ring. Without a doubt in his mind, he can attack, dodge, and think faster than everyone around him, at home as both the quiet eye and the flurrying hurricane.

Atsumu is at your side in an instant, laying his own quick combo on the guy holding your jacket. He gently takes your elbow, taking great care not to guide you in a way that would make Sakusa target him next as a threat, leading you down the dark side path of the house to a gate. The next moments flash in overwhelming blurs, Atsumu at your back to take out the goons attempting to pursue you out of the house, kicking off your shoes to better run down the driveway, a second figure that looks suspiciously like Atsumu with darker hair sprinting past you to take down a guard trying to prevent you from leaving. 

This is why we don’t get invited to shit, ‘Tsumu!

Less talking, more running, ‘Samu! 

Right when your calves begin to burn from sprinting away from the house with your apparent twin bodyguards, you spot red lights blink twice, parked against the curb. With Osamu holding the door and Atsumu jerking the ignition to life, you slip into the passenger seat and barely have time to ask what the fuck is going on before your driver slams the gas. 

— 11:30 P.M. Week 10 of 15. Success: Shut down arranged marriage negotiations. Failure: Got a bad cheap shot to the ribs. 

Osamu is waiting for him a few blocks down from the main entrance gate, leaning against the hood of his car like a disappointed father picking up his teen daughter from a sleepover gone wrong. The fire that fueled him as he fought his way out of the estate was slowly burning out, its embers glowing enough to give him the energy to slip away into the darkness as the Daishou family’s private security start to search the premises, no doubt from the orders of the only son. 

“You look like shit,” his getaway driver observes. There’s no malice in Osamu’s voice; there never was, only the unaltered truth and the occasional sarcastic comment. “They give you trouble?”

“No more than you or Kuroo do,” Sakusa answers tiredly. “Just a pain in my ass, at most.” His friend nods, his gaze narrowing on the item in his fist. Your jacket. Atsumu must have either dropped it on the way out or failed to pick it up at all.

“What’s that? Souvenir?” 

“No, just need to return it to its rightful owner.” Osamu’s mouth opens into an ah of understanding and he finally turns to climb into the car, Sakusa also clambering in with a pained groan. 

“Don’t tell me they actually got a hit on you,” Osamu says shrewdly as Sakusa leans his head back and closes his eyes. 

“I’m going to punch you.”

“Hmm, they did get a hit on you then.”

“I am going,” he repeats slowly. “To punch you.”

“Were you pulling your punches? You never pull your punches.”

“Drive,” he all but growls and Osamu’s dry chuckle is followed by the hum of the engine. 

“You really did all that, just for them?” Sakusa peels open one eye and takes in his friend’s blank expression, fixated on the road. 

“Yeah, guess I did.”

“Are they worth it?” Sakusa doesn’t hesitate before he answers, and that’s when Osamu knows that the ruthless, selfish fighter that he’d trained with was no more.

“I wouldn’t do all this if they weren’t.”

— 11:57 P.M. Week 10 of 15. Success: They’re safe in the gym. Failure: They might hate me.

I should get him a proper lock for his birthday, Atsumu thinks to himself as he unties the double-knotted rope securing Sakusa’s locker door. He spots the extra set of clean clothes and pulls out the carefully folded sweatshirt with a faded print of the university’s logo. Atsumu thinks for a moment more before making his decision; he’d reap the consequences of rummaging through his friend’s stuff if it meant you weren’t shivering in the stale air of the gym. To no one’s surprise, you’re right where he’d left you when he exits the locker room, curled into yourself with your back against a corner wall. You initially refused to sit down, but hesitantly let Atsumu settle you on a bench once you tugged Sakusa’s sweater over your head. The smell of the detergent, the faint undertone of his cologne, and the well-worn fabric feel like safety. It gives you enough courage to finally start asking questions.

“Where are we?”

“MMA gym, just a couple blocks south of campus,” answers Atsumu. He sits at a polite distance from you on the bench, purposefully far enough that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable but still able to have a normal conversation.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Miya Atsumu. I train here with your, uh…bodyguard.” Your jaw tightens.

“I thought he was supposed to be my driver.”

“Who the hell told you that?”

“My father.”

“He wear a silver signet ring?” You nod, wide-eyed. “Yeah, he came in a while back asking about Omi-omi. Wanted to hire him for a job.” 

“I’m assuming I was the job,” you conclude. “Dad’s been out of the country for a few months now, won’t be back for another couple of weeks. Omi was hired to what, protect me?”

“From what I know of. You know Omi; he’s a man of the least words possible,” Atsumu says. “Didn’t even share that he’d taken the job. Just stopped showing up at his usual training times and only explained where he’d been when I cornered him after class.”

“I bet he hated that.”

“Oh, he nearly broke my nose. For the fourth time.” You manage a small, tired smile that fades just as quickly as it appeared. As angry as you were that Sakusa had lied to you about what your father hired him for, you couldn’t shake the nauseating stew of nerves in your stomach. “It’s good he was there with you, though. Maybe your old man knew those scumbags might make a move.” 

“Do you think Omi’s okay?” You let the sleeves of the sweater cover your shaking hands and run your fingers over the inside ribbing of the cuffs to ground yourself. 

“He’s the most feared fighter in the gym. I think he’ll do just fine against Daishou’s bozos.”

“The look on his face…” Your voice trails off and you stare at your shoes, scraped and stained from running across the Daishous’ lawn. “Does he always look like that when he fights?” Atsumu thinks, his eyebrows pinching.

“No,” he decides. “He usually keeps his composure pretty well. It’s what makes him so scary in the first place; half of the fight is not getting intimidated by his aura.”

“I assume you fight him often, then, to know all this about him.”

“Sure, we’re BFFS. Best fighters forever.” His attention is temporarily taken by his phone, which buzzes and makes quiet clicking noises as he types a message and sends it.

“What was different about tonight, then? Why did he have so much—”

“Blood lust?” Atsumu finishes without looking up. 

“Yeah. Like he was on the verge of killing someone.”

“Honestly, I’d say it was because they’d cornered you,” Atsumu says with a shrug, pocketing his phone and turning toward the main entrance doors. “But if you want a genuine answer, ask him yourself.”

Sakusa doesn’t know what to expect when he opens the gym door with a metallic creak. Half of him hopes that you weren’t there at all, that you’d forced Atsumu to take you home and declared that you would never want to see the face of a liar. The other half of him is expecting a firm slap in the face, a screaming match, and the same outcome where he’s left jobless and you’re never to be contacted. What he doesn’t plan for, however, is seeing you wrapped up in his clothes and looking so emotionally wrecked that it feels like he’s been punched in the chest again. He doesn’t plan for the way you open your mouth to say something, abruptly shut it when tears start to well, and shrink even further into his sweater like a sad turtle. 

He certainly doesn’t plan for the way his arms instinctively slide around your waist to pull you close, or how you immediately melt into him with your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. Your face is hidden where his neck meets his shoulder and he can feel every shaking exhale against his skin. Sakusa waits for you to let go, to pull away and shove your knee into his crotch, but all you do is stand there, letting him hold you, and breathing him in. Both Miyas have disappeared into the back, leaving you enveloped in the quiet security of his presence. 

“I’m sorry I lied,” he murmurs into your ear. There’s a speckle of dark red on his neck that you wipe with your thumb, making his throat bob as he swallows. Against your ear, his heart rate picks up significantly at the feeling of your finger on his skin. 

“I know.” About the lying or the remorse, he couldn’t tell.

“Think you can forgive me?”

“Stay at the house tonight and I’ll think about it.”

“That can be arranged,” he replies and without another word, intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the car to take you home. 

— WORK LOG [K. SAKUSA]: 10:04 P.M. Week 14 of 15. Success: Won all bouts. Failure: Running very, very late. 

“What’d I tell you about leaving the front door unlocked?” He calls out, breathless, to the empty living room after hurrying over after the night’s fights. Earlier, you graciously allowed him to borrow your family’s green Mustang—something about the color matching his aesthetic for luck purposes—and he’d nearly flipped several times racing to get to your house from the gym. Now, he does a quick check of the entryway before kicking off his shoes and beelining for the bathroom upstairs. 

“I only unlocked it recently, don’t panic. I knew you were coming home,” you reassure him as you round the corner that leads to the kitchen carrying a party-size bag of chips. You pop one in your mouth with an unhurried crunch. He exhales and leans over the stairway railing, fighting back a smile at the sight of you wearing his jacket over your fancy going-out clothes. “Also, what happened to, ‘Hi, love of my life, how was your day?’ You’re already on thin ice for being late.” You set down the chips and posit your hands on your hips as he obediently makes his way back down the stairs. Despite your faux-irritation, you don’t protest as he pulls you in by your hips and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Hi, love of my life, I would love to hear about your day when I’m not covered in blood and sweat,” he murmurs with facetious compliance. You snort, all too aware of the stray beads of perspiration hanging from his curls and the small cuts on his hands as he takes one of yours to kiss your knuckles. 

“You and your silver tongue.”

“You’re the one who said I needed another way to fight that wasn’t with my fists,” he reminds you, his mouth still brushing your fingers, “and Atsumu isn’t a bad teacher if you need to learn how to piss people off with just words.” 

“Don’t learn too much from him, now.”

“Blame the teacher, not the student,” he replies with a sly grin. “Lemme shower and then we’ll go, yeah?”

“Fine, be ready in ten or I’m taking the Mustang without you.” You gently push him away and he sneaks one more peck on your lips. “I’m serious, Kiyoomi.”

“Promises, promises, baby,” he drawls, already peeling off his shirt as he climbs the stairs again. “You want me ready in ten, I’ll make it six.” 

“Should I wear your jacket to dinner?” You ask and he pauses at the top of the stairs, looking down with the same old blush warming his face. “It goes well with my outfit, no?”

“I’ll have my arm around you anyway, so you won’t need it.” 

“I won’t?” He smiles softly.

“Never.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[bewitched-hours]

OH MY BLUHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS PHENOMENAL i love how you wrote reader.... INSANE... 😮😮😮😮 ;pos NOT FORCINGRDF but id loove to see noli try to 'rizz ' computer!reader with movements AND words like just imagine noli slaugjhtering people but still holding that damn computer .. putting them in his lap (APPARENTLY to warm himself up...he know he a loverboy with excuses) ......... apathetic sentient AI reader knows NOTHING about love but soon adapts to this feeling. also a slow burn LOL -- likee 1x is ?? :" why the fuck do you have that damn computer monitor with you all the time " theres an angst way where reader gets slashed byshedletsky (or shot by chance - either goes for any sentinel) and noli is devistated LL LOSER /nsrs /aff - if whatnot can i be declared as computer anon ..

LMFAO YOU'RE A GENIUS- I genuinely had to laugh over this request because it was just perfect. I love the mental image of Noli trying to rizz a computer and 1x just absolutely irritated because Noli is so fucking obvious about it and still somehow trying to cover his tracks (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و And you will be computer anon from now on~

The reader's pronouns will once again be they/them~

You were a ruthless AI.

Apathetic, sadistic, the whole deal.

And you just happened to catch the attention of none other than your fellow killer, Noli.

If you were any less apathetic, you'd feel bad with how badly he was trying to impress you in the very rare rounds where you'd be thrown in.

Because you were still a robot/computer, you couldn't be thrown into a round by yourself because stuns affected you for longer. Your system would need support occasionally.

And by the Spectre, Noli loved it when he was the one chosen to assist you. He could watch you dismantle the survivors all day and any paradox sentence they used to stop you only offered him another chance to talk to you. Even if it was just to reset your thoughts and get you back on track.

And he would even try to make sure you were nearby to watch him when he killed another survivor. But you best believe he leaves the LMS for you. He just couldn't get enough of that murderous on your robotic face as you'd either bite off the survivor's flesh or decapitated them using a built-in claw he managed to add into your body.

You always reveled in the looks you'd get. The attention would be addictive if your system wasn't making sure to keep you pathetically neutral to it.

Even the other killers couldn't help but laugh or side-eye Noli whenever he was trying to 'rizz' you up back at the killer's cabin. Unlike the survivor cabin, this had rooms for everyone instead of individual cabins.

Probably to keep all the killers tense and ready to let their frustrations out on the survivors. The Spectre thrived on the misery of it all anyways.

And this time was no different. With your head laying in Noli's lap.

He always claimed it was because your body was always so warm and apparently the killer cabin got cold quickly but not even you believed him.

No, you knew he was doing it in hopes of having you feel something. And to presumably 'lay claim' upon you, if you can even call it that.

1x1 seemed even a little amused at the misery of the whole situation despite your indifference to it.

You had no clue about love but you knew a little about animal behaviour because you'd notice your fellow killers sometimes acting strangely and somehow you had a directory in your system for animal behaviours.

This led you to associate everyone at your cabin with an animal.

1x1 was obviously a wolf, John behaved more like a cat to you, and so on.

And Noli? His behaviour might be more bunny-like. Or maybe a fox?

You weren't entirely sure with his recent switch ups.

But you were starting to take notes. And you were starting to learn.

... Much to 1x1's disappointment when you began reciprocating Noli's feelings in your own way.

You were still acting apathetic but let the mask slip every once in a while to show him affection. And you best believe he's ecstatic on the inside whenever you do.

It's never much. Slightly leaning against him sometimes, giving him a kiss on the cheek to congratulate him and acting reserved to avoid your situation with Noli turning into a big deal.

Unfortunately for you, Noli took this as a sign of your reciprocation and began getting a little more clingy. You didn't exactly mind it but had to tell him more than once that you need personal space too, even if you technically can't breath or have any regular needs.

Really, your biggest threat was the survivors using paradox sentences or your body not getting oiled regularly. But Noli was more than happy to help with both situations.

Resetting your thoughts as earlier stated or helping with reaching the joints in your mechanical body that you have trouble with.

Sometimes he even tried to dress you up differently but that made c00lkidd think you were playing and he wanted to be included.

You didn't even mind. Your systems recognized the child as 'cute' despite his current form and you found yourself treating him as such.

You'd even overhear him talking about you as his 'partner' and it took a while to register he meant it in a romantic context which made your systems overheat just a little.

At first it confused you but he explained it to you and you made sure to register it as part of love as an emotion.

All that to say he was devastated during one round when Shedletsky's sword hit your metallic body.

Mind you, this would go away after the round.

But to Noli? Oh, he was acting dramatic about it...

And somehow... That was adorable-

Admittedly, I got a little carried away again~

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[alexanderwales]

We were driving down the highway, and Derrick was going exactly the speed limit, like a psychopath.

He was aghast. "You wouldn't let me use your fuckbot?"

"It would be weird," I replied. "You're saying, in the hypothetical world where fuckbots existed, that you would be fine with me saying 'hey, I'm super horny, can I come pick up your fuckbot for the evening?'"

"Hell yeah dude," said Derrick.

"We're talking something that can make a reasonable pass at acting human, who looks human," I said. "That's what we're talking about right now."

"Yeah," said Derrick. "I mean, the kind of thing that realistically would end up being your maid, your chef, all that kind of thing, because if it can carry on a conversation it can probably do your laundry and scrub your tub and whatever."

"If, hypothetically, such a thing existed," I said. "I wouldn't call it a fuckbot, I would call it a domestic robot or something. Even if, for whatever reason, such an expensive labor saving device also had parts and protocols for having sex with it."

"And you wouldn't let me use it," said Derrick. "Not even just to try it out. Like if I was interested in buying one of my own."

"I mean," I said. "No, because you could just ask me what it was like, and I could tell you."

"That's bad market research, dude," said Derrick.

"Look, I'm not letting you have sex with my sexbot," I said. "That's a line that I'm not crossing, in the hypothetical world where domestic servant robots with like personalities and stuff are also ready and willing to have sex with you."

"Is it a hygiene thing?" asked Derrick. "Because I'm imagining like, a little sleeve thing that they could pull out and clean. And it's not like contagion theory is real, that's like, essentialism."

"What?" I asked. "Contagions are definitely real."

"No, I mean ... like this thing where if a knife has touched meat even just one time, it's forever a meat knife unless you do a ritual to turn it back into a dairy knife."

"What?" I asked again.

Derrick was still driving the speed limit. People were going around us, and some of them were honking. He was easily ten miles an hour slower than any of the surrounding traffic.

"The Jewish thing, with the knives," said Derrick. "You touch a knife to meat even once, and then it's a meat knife, and it doesn't matter if you put it in a like, immersion steamer or something."

"This is about keeping kosher?" I asked. "You're talking about whether a sexbot is kosher?"

"I'm saying that there's this idea, right, that if I put my dick inside your sexbot, that sexbot is forever tainted, and it doesn't matter if there's a sleeve that can be sterilized, or whatever, it's just this idea that the act independent of physical reality is ... a contagion, I guess."

"Surely there's a way of making a knife kosher again," I said. "I mean, surely, if you accidentally touch a knife to a piece of meat it's not a meat knife forever, surely you don't throw your favorite knife out because it's ritually unclean."

"I don't know man," said Derrick. "I'm just gesturing at the idea, you know?"

"I mean, there's probably some ritual cleaning or something," I said. "Can I look this up?"

"No," said Derrick. "I'm driving, I need someone to talk to, if I let you look it up you're going to have your nose in the phone for the next half hour, easily."

"Fine," I replied. "Anyway, I get the idea, and it's not that I think it's like ... magic or something, like you using it would metaphysically alter the sexbot. It's more like ... in my mind, it would be my girlfriend, right? Or like a girlfriend replacement. If you can't find a girlfriend, store bought is fine, that kind of thing."

"Interesting," said Derrick. "I was thinking of it as a sort of ... maid, I guess. And if you hired a maid, and she said to you 'hey, I'm super horny basically all the time, so if after I'm done cleaning, or if I'm in the middle of cleaning, and you want to have a go, I am basically always up for it, then ... I mean, you might, right? And you wouldn't be surprised if she was having sex with other people. And if you explained this to me, and I said 'hey, can I get her number', you'd give me her number, right?" He glanced over at me. "Right?"

"I guess in that case, she would have agency," I said. "And it wouldn't be the same. Because if I hired a domestic servant robot, I would be extremely surprised to find out she'd been having sex with other people, like ... when I was away ... or something."

"But you'd give me her number, right?" asked Derrick.

"In this scenario, is this maid ... a sex worker?" I asked. "Like, is the understanding that I'm paying her for cleaning the house and sexual availability?"

"Nah, I don't know dude," said Derrick. "You know, when you think about it, a combination domestic servant and fuckbot is kind of fucked up. Like, misogynistic."

"Does it get less fucked up if it's a guy?" I asked.

"Honestly, yeah," said Derrick. "That's practically progressive."

"I mean, it's sort of inherent to the concept of a sexbot," I said. "I don't know how you do one of those that's immune from criticism. And calling it a fuckbot doesn't help. I mean, it's a facsimile of a woman, whose only purpose is doing domestic labor and having sex."

"And there's this power dynamic thing," said Derrick. "Like, you own her, right? And you tell her whether or not your friends are allowed to have sex with her. No agency, like you said."

"So you think that me loaning out my sexbot to you, in this hypothetical, is a win for feminisim," I said.

"Honestly, yeah," said Derrick.

"Well, I'm still not going to do it," I said. "I'd feel weird about it."

"I think it's this girlfriend mentality," said Derrick. "Like, girlfriend replacement, that's probably not a healthy way to think about a fuckbot."

"We said illusion of sentience, right?" I asked. "Like, it can carry on a conversation with you, and you mostly won't notice anything weird? Because if that's the case, it's kind of weirder for it not to be a girlfriend, or something like a girlfriend, like if it's only doing all the household chores and the cooking and cleaning and you have sex with it, and it's perfectly capable of asking how your day is or expressing interest in how you're doing in League, but you just don't talk to each other? That's weird. And seems less healthy than just carrying on a conversation."

"Yeah, maybe," said Derrick. "But like ... no way anyone is going to be your girlfriend if you have a fuckbot, that's a real concern."

"In this hypothetical world where someone like me without a huge amount of extra money can afford a domestic robot, I think attitudes would change," I said. "On dating apps or whatever you'd have people tagging 'robot friendly!' or 'absolutely no robofuckers' or whatever. And I would assume that women would have them too, and then when I did get a girlfriend, she'd move in with her own domestic robot, and I'd make peace with the fact that sometimes we'd have sex together and sometimes she'd want to just have her sexbot please her."

"Totally not what would happen," said Derrick. "You're trying to create some kind of normalcy around this? Like you'd just be in a little, I don't know, polycule with two robots?"

"I mean, they're sub-sentient robots, so no, not a polycule," I replied. "Part of the premise is that they are, in fact, incapable of cognition as we know it, that they don't actually have emotions or ambitions or agency beyond what's programmed into them. If we're saying that they're effectively humans but made of electronics and not meat, that's totally different, all my answers have to change."

"And if they did have emotions," said Derrick. "If they did have agency and cognition and whatnot, then —"

"Then they'd be slaves," I said. "And I'm not cool with slavery, so I wouldn't have one."

"What if they were volunteers?" asked Derrick. "If they had emotions and thoughts and all that other stuff, and they came off the factory line really wanting to be fuckbots and domestic servants."

"Sketchy," I said. "But ... maybe, depending on the details."

"And in that case, if they had agency of their own, would you let me have sex with your fuckbot?" asked Derrick.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine, if the sexbots were fully human-level intelligent with agency and emotions and wants and dreams, and it seemed like the robot I lived with was actually interested, yes, I would give my blessing."

"Niiiiice," said Derrick.

Another car came up fast behind us and swerved into the other lane to avoid us, honking as it blew past.

"Can I ask why you're driving so goddamned slow?" I asked.

"Oh, I was doing it as a bit, I wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice."

Derrick smiled at me, then put his foot on the gas.

[girlgenius1111]

miscommunications + conversations

alexia x reader alexia has practically stopped speaking in the wake of her second surgery. it's stressing you out, but you don't quite know how to tell her. she gets it out of you anyway. mentioned this the other day, but changed the title :) angst x fluff

"Do you need anything?" You asked, rising from your spot on the couch a safe distance away from your incredibly grouchy girlfriend.

"No." She responded, barely turning her attention away from the old match she had playing on her ipad. You sighed, realizing that it was the match against Benfica. Again. She'd been playing it over and over since her injury, in an almost obsessive manner. You'd said something about it, but she'd simply fixed you with the glare you'd become quite familiar with, and you'd dropped the subject.

Alexia wasn't an easy patient. You'd known this before her second knee surgery, but you were still astounded at how stubborn she was being. She'd barely spoken more than a word to you in weeks, and even though she pulled you close into her at night when she thought you were asleep, you hadn't ever felt like such a failure in your entire life.

Alexia wasn't okay, and she needed something. Something that you couldn't figure out, something you weren't giving her. It was driving you crazy, this feeling of inadequacy.

You were tired, worried, tired of being worried, stressed, and in need of a break. From anything, any one of your responsibilities.

You'd had a lengthy double session today, followed by a long time in the film room reviewing the last match. You'd looked forward to coming home and relaxing all day, but now that you were here, the distance between you and your girlfriend felt suffocating. It was all too much; Alexia acting like a robot, half the team being injured, game after game scheduled for the next week. You felt so stressed you thought your bones might literally shatter under the pressure.

After another rejection of conversation from Alexia, you knew you had to get out of the house before you broke down and cried in front of her. It wasn't her fault you weren't doing a good enough job taking care of her. It wasn't her fault you were so exhausted, every movement was difficult, even though you couldn't, for the life of you, sleep.

You didn't see Alexia look up after you as you left, walking back into the bedroom and pulling your phone out. You clicked the contact you were looking for, hoping she'd answer, and hoping she'd be willing to help you out today.

"Hola."

"Mapi, can you come over and sit with Ale for a bit?"

"Sí, of course. Is everything all right?" Mapi replied, usual joking manner replaced with a sympathetic one. Mapi knew all too well how Alexia was acting.

'Yeah, yeah. I just need a break." You explained. Mapi said she understood, and promised that she'd be there soon. She didn't live far, and you took a few calming breaths in the bedroom, before stepping back out to where Alexia was sitting. This time, she did look up at you, her face scrunching in concern when she noticed just how drained you looked.

It wasn't the first time she'd noticed that you were struggling, but every time she brought it up, the only time you really got more than a few words out of her at once, you turned the conversation around, trying to get her to open up to you. She hadn't missed this, but she assumed that you'd tell her what was going on when you felt ready. Alexia didn't quite seem to realize the effect her cold behavior was having on you.

"I'm gonna go run some errands. Mapi will be here in a bit, and I'll be back in a couple hours." You explained shortly, pressing a kiss onto Alexia's soft lips, and slipping out the door before she could say anything.

Once you were out the door, all bets were off, and you felt tears pooling in your eyes. It was a good thing you hadn't waited for Mapi to arrive, because you wouldn't have made it that long without breaking down in front of her, and that would have just been embarrassing.

Although, getting in the car and driving to an empty parking lot to cry wasn't really any less embarrassing.

-----

You came back from your rather pathetic drive, and walked into the house, finding your girlfriend in deep discussion with her best friend. Though you felt marginally better, you realized you'd forgotten something rather important; crying in your car for an hour would leave you with red and puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. You hadn't done anything to hide the evidence.

This was clear when both girls stopped talking and looked at you, faces heavy with concern. Mapi stood, crossed the room as quickly as she could on crutches, and pulled you into a hug. The words she whispered in your ear were only for you to hear.

"Talk to your girlfriend. She's going crazy not knowing what's wrong with you."

You sighed, nodding slightly as you led Mapi to the door, waving to Ingrid, biting your tongue to avoid telling Mapi that you hoped she enjoyed her playdate. You and Ingrid had been making the joke for weeks, driving your respective girlfriend's back and forth to each other as they couldn't drive, feeling like parents of 2 very grumpy children.

When you returned to the living room, to Alexia, she was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest, knee extended in front of her, looking carefully at you. She looked like Alexia again, her hazel eyes looking somehow both sternly and softly at you.

"If I left the house to cry, you would kill me in my sleep."

She wasn't wrong. You were on Alexia all the time about being more vulnerable with you. It was possible, you supposed, that you were being a bit of a hypocrite.

"I didn't leave to go cry, I left, and I cried. It was coincidental." You argued back, sitting next to her on the couch, and taking her outstretched hand. Hers was so much larger than yours, and it encapsulated it completely, the rough calluses and the tight hold she had on you making you feel inexplicably safe. 

"I do not believe you. You have been upset all week, and you refused to tell me why. You call Mapi to come babysit me, you make up an errand to run, and you go cry in your car. When you are upset, you are supposed to tell me, so I can help."

You looked away from her, the extent to which she knew you being slightly overwhelming. Of course she'd known you were upset, and of course she hadn't pushed too hard. Alexia was perfect in that way, always knowing what you needed.

"Mírame," Alexia rasped and you turned towards her, lip wobbling as you finally met her gaze. "Amor," she sighed, pulling you in until you collapsed against her chest. It was a familiar position, with your head resting against her sternum, her arms holding you close. It felt like it had been ages since she’d held you, and you curled into her, clutching tightly onto the green hoodie she was wearing, feeling her lips press softly onto the top of your head. 

You still weren’t fully sold on breaking down in front of her, not when she was the one who had every right to be upset and angry with the world. You had thought, too, that you were all cried out. Unfortunately not, as you took several stuttering breaths trying to stave off your sobs before they really even started. 

Alexia stroked your hair, scolding you very gently. “No, stop that. Cry if you need to, mi amor. You can always feel what you need to feel when you are with me, sí?” 

You tried to pull away, but Alexia was too strong, keeping you stubbornly pressed to her chest.“I can’t, Ale, you-”

“Forget about me. You need to cry, you need me to hold you. We worry about you right now. Not me.” The blonde insisted, her hand sliding up your shirt, blunt nails scratching lightly over your back. She was pulling out every trick she knew to make you fall limp against her, doing everything she could to get you to let go, let her be strong for you when you were always so strong for her. 

You spent the next few minutes almost crying, almost letting go, but not quite. Your hands were fisted in the fabric of Alexia’s sweatshirt, and even though she was telling you that it was okay, you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting against the flood of emotion rushing through you. 

“Mi niña bonita, it’s okay. You’re safe to feel what you need, amor, please.” 

“I can’t Ale,” you whimpered, allowing Alexia’s hand to tilt your chin up away from her chest, towards her face. 

“Why?” She asked, so gently, so adoringly, that you felt a piece of your heart stitch itself back together. 

“You need me to be strong.” 

Alexia shook her head. “No, I need you to be okay. And you are not right now, are you?” 

You responded hesitantly, although you had no argument against her. It was rather evident that you were far from okay. “No.” 

“No.” Alexia repeated, her thumb rubbing little circles into your cheekbone. “You do not need to pretend with me. You have been so perfect, so strong. Let me be strong for you now, okay? Please?” 

Something in her voice, the pleading edge to it, broke you, and you rested your forehead back against your girlfriend’s chest, body trembling harshly with sobs. You inhaled deep gasps of Alexia’s perfume in between your cries, and tried to let it wash over you, as her words were doing. 

“There you go, bebé. You’re alright. I love you. Te tengo, amor. Te amo y te tengo, mi niña bonita.” 

You weren’t sure where this Alexia had come from, the emotionally intelligent version of your girlfriend having been missing for weeks, but you weren’t complaining. Far from it, in fact, as you cried so hard you shook against her, so hard that you exhausted yourself within minutes, gasping breaths turning into quiet whimpers as your eyes fluttered shut, and you relaxed into a light sleep against the blonde. Alexia held you with an unmoving steadiness, even when her knee started to feel stiff from the position it was in. She knew that she’d played some role in whatever was going on here, and she was quite determined to make it up to you. For now, though, she was happy to let you sleep, looking more peaceful than you had in a while. 

------ 

You woke up when Alexia began to shift uncomfortably under you. She couldn’t help it, she’d been laying in the same position for an hour, and her knee was really starting to complain. The blonde had tried to keep still, not wanting to disturb you, but she was clearly not successful when your eyes fluttered open, swollen and red, as you gazed up at your girlfriend. Her jaw was set, but she looked at you apologetically, sighing when you shot up off of her, looking frantically at her knee. 

“I am okay, bebé,” she began.

You scrambled up off of her, practically running to the kitchen to get a new ice pack. 

“Amor, come back,” she called, really not wanting to let you out of her sight before you told her what was wrong. You did return, ice pack in hand but you ignored Alexia’s attempts at conversation, carefully stretching her knee out and adjusting it to a better position. She sighed in relief despite herself, and you gently wrapped the new ice pack around her knee, before giving her an unimpressed look.

“You should have woken me.” 

“I was fine.” Alexia argued, opening her arms to invite you back against her. You hesitated, looking between her face and her knee. “Ven aqui, amor.” 

You relented slightly, curling against her side again to rest your head on her shoulder. Her lips left a soft kiss on the side of your head, and you settled in closer, the feeling of your girlfriend’s arms around you being so perfect after such a tough few weeks. 

“Talk to me, please.” Alexia said quietly after a minute.

“About what?” You replied, partly because you wanted to avoid this conversation, and partly because you knew it would annoy Alexia. 

The blonde pinched your arm lightly, not needing to say anything for you to take a deep breath, and try to explain yourself. 

“I’m just stressed. Everything with the team, the amount we have to play coming up. I’m exhausted, and there’s no time for a break.” 

It was half the truth, half the story, but you deeply hoped Ale would buy it. You didn’t need her to feel like she was burdening you, not when it was your fault, and not when she was having a hard enough time as it was. 

It was quite on brand with how things were going that Alexia saw right through you. 

“And I am not helping.” She murmured, her hand grabbing yours. Her voice was filled with guilt and regret, and you couldn't stand it. 

“No, Ale,”

“Sí,” she interrupted. “I have been moody and quiet and completely unhelpful. That is stressing you out more, yes?” 

To be honest, Alexia wouldn’t have reached that conclusion an hour ago. While you slept, though, she’d been thinking long and hard, and came to the realization that in her attempts to protect you from how awful she was feeling, she’d shut you out. 

“Yeah.” You allowed. 

“I need more than that, bebé.” 

You gave an annoyed huff, but there wasn’t really anything behind it. “It’s not your fault, Ale. It’s hard that I can’t fix everything for you, but it’s not your fault, it’s mine.” 

“I do not need you to fix it for me, amor.” Alexia cut in. 

“It would make it easier if you could tell me how to help you, because what I’m doing isn’t working.” You continued, having worked up the courage to say what you were feeling, and were sure that if you stopped now, you wouldn’t be able to continue. 

“No no no. You have not done anything wrong, you have done everything right.”

You didn’t believe her. “Then why are you so upset with me?” 

Your voice was so small and so hesitant, Alexia shut her eyes for a minute, willing away her emotion so she could explain herself to you. 

“I am not upset with you, amor. I… I am miserable because I cannot play, and I did not want to put that on you. I thought that I was helping you, not stressing you out with my feelings.” 

You shifted against her, the look on your face causing Alexia to sink back into the couch. 

“Well that did the opposite. I was worried anyway. I’m always going to worry, baby. I worry less if you tell me what you’re thinking, though.” 

Now it was Alexia’s turn to shrug noncommittally. You had on that look, though, and Alexia knew she’d cave within a minute. 

“I am sorry, amor. I should have talked to you. I made you stressed and upset for no reason.” 

You sighed dramatically, leaning in to lightly kiss her cheek. “I forgive you. You better start keeping a journal though, and let me read it every night before bed. All of your feelings of the day, written down for me to look through. Then I won’t be mad anymore.” You joked, and Alexia snorted. 

“Fine, you write one too. All your feelings. We’ll trade, and never have to talk to each other.” 

“Perfect.” You smiled, leaning your forehead against hers. 

“Perfect.” She agreed, eyes shutting at the close contact. 

“I love you.” You mumbled. 

“Te amo mucho. Even when you get tears all over my car, and make me beg you to talk to me.” 

You pulled away rolling your eyes. “Fine. You can get your own ice packs, massage your own knee, and drive yourself to your grumpy playdates with Mapi.” 

“Playdates!” Alexia gasped, yanking you back down on top of her, and poking you in the side, making you giggle against your will. “You take away my massages, I take away yours.” Alexia warned. 

You turned to her, betrayed. “You like giving me massages as much as I like getting them.” You reminded her. 

Alexia smiled playfully, her hand creeping up the front of your shirt. You shivered at the contact, taking in the smirk on your girlfriend’s face, knowing exactly what she had in mind. “Do I like to give massages? I do not remember. You will have to remind me.” 

You rolled your eyes, but leaned in, Alexia dominating the heated kiss even as you hovered on top of her, though she was slightly breathless when you slipped your tongue into her mouth. That was Alexia, though. In control of every situation, except when it came to you. Evidently, Alexia didn’t always use her brain when it came to you, her heart took over, and she made decisions she wouldn’t normally make. It was hard to complain, though, when she looked at you like you single handedly made the earth spin on its axis. No, you couldn’t complain. You were her weak spot, and you knew how lucky you were to hold that position.  

-----

some angst and fluff for ya <3

[t-a-a-1]

The Darkest Hour

Ch.5: Counting Stars

Summary: You and Optimus get into a fight but a friendly race makes the two of you end up counting stars.

11K Words (I know ...)

For a better reading experience, here is the Ao3 Link

Ch.5: Counting Stars

It didn’t bother you to dress more seductively when the situation demanded it. You wear a red wig, bold make-up. A blue mini-skirt and a tank top with flames on it with white long boots. It was cold outside but it was part of the job.

“(Y/N)? Are you ready for our meeting? I have compiled information that I think you’ll find amusing.”

You had been meeting once every two weeks with Optimus to talk about the research project the two of you had been working on. Apparently, Human-Cybertronian history goes further than historians believe and Optimus was excited to do research about it with you and present it to the kids and the Autobots when finished.

“Not today Prime, I have to go to work.”

“Dress in such a way?”

“... What do you mean?” You ask him, silently judging his choice of words.

“You usually wear fabrics that cover most of your body and it's cold outside … I thought humans were more perceptive to coldness than Cybertronians.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even the hangar was cold as per human senses but for gigantic robots, this would be a comfortable temperature.

The rest of team Prime were busy doing other things. Ratchet was typing on his data-pad in a language you couldn’t understand, probably Cybertronian. Bulkhead was with Miko, practicing the guitar. Bumblebee with Raf, playing games as Arcee and Jack watched closely.

“Yes but this time, I have to dress like this. I am going undercover so I have to fit in with the crowds.”

Optimus kneels, getting a closer look at you. You didn’t understand why he tried to look less menacing. Nothing would make him look friendly to you. Still, it was nice that he tried.

“Which kind of undercover mission are you participating in?”

“It's better if you don’t know,” you say as you look at the elevated-floor. “Anyways, I’ll be taking Bumblebee for my mission if you don’t mind.”

“Apologies but I can’t allow you to take Bumblebee unless I know what you require him for.”

It was a good demand.

“Do you want me to lie or be honest?”

“I would appreciate your honesty.”

“... Illegal car racing,” you say. You already knew that he won’t like the sound of that. “I have to write a report on illegal car racing. I need to blend in to get information. That’s why I am dressed like this and why I need Bumblebee.”

“I see,” he seems to consider the situation and it's giving you the small hope that he might say yes. “Then I prohibit Bumblebee and you from joining this race.”

“Wait … me? You can’t tell me what to do—”

“As your Guardian, it is my duty to keep you safe and illegal car racing sounds like a dangerous activity.”

You walk closer to him, his optics are bright and you struggle to look at them directly. Yet, your eyes quickly adjust to it.

“I need to do my job, Prime,” you don’t think he fully understands how important your job is to you and how much you need it. Not trying to escalate things, you calm yourself before continuing. “Look, if you won’t let Bumblebee go that’s fine, I’ll just take my car.”

“It’s an order,” he simply says. Standing up, his tone of voice changes to a less monotone one. “You can stay here and we can have our meeting.”

He walks away, looking more excited than usual and in a better mood. You wait for him to leave and walk into the hallway. Just for you to turn around and walk away without anyone noticing.

.

.

.

Not wanting to be seen in your car, you parked a bit far away from the designated meet up. Maybe you couldn’t participate but at least you could walk around and talk to some of the racers.

But a few meters later, you start to regret it as your heels weren’t the most comfortable.

The cold also starts kicking in and for a moment you regret not following Optimus’ orders. But now this goes beyond a simple undercover, now you have to prove to Optimus that you were your own person and won’t follow orders so easily.

“Just wait until I expose to everyone the truth behind the Autobots!”

The Autobots weren’t bad but it was your job to tell the truth of what was happening in the world. Not just that but revealing to humanity that aliens exist would definitely get you down in history as the best journalist in the world. It would get your job back and better opportunities.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear a car approaching you.

The bright lights blinded you but you immediately recognized the yellow car with black racing stripes.

“Bee!” You look inside the car. The window was down, letting you see the dashboard and the Autobot logo on the steering wheel. “You couldn’t resist coming to the race, right?”

Bumblebee speaks in morse code. You were still learning but managed to decipher a ‘Yes’

“Well, let’s go! There’s a race we have to win!”

Bumblebee accidently turns on his engines as he opens the door for you.You hoped in and he drives you to the racing spot.

There were a good amount of people. They all looked at you as you made your way into the racing line. You expected it, after all, people in the illegal car-racing world mostly knew each other. A newbie or outsider was a peculiar sight.

You take out a notebook and start writing notes, just whatever you see. The people, the atmosphere, the kind of cars. Even the smell of the air and how you were feeling. You also tried taking pictures, in a way you wouldn’t be seen.

“Get ready!”

A girl walks in front of the cars holding a red handkerchief. Blond, blue eyes, dressing more seductively than you. You sometimes wished you could be like that. Feeling so confident in one’s body. Feeling like you were born to be you.

“Set!”

You were feeling excited, this was something you had never done before.

“Let’s win this Bee!”

He makes his engine sound louder, matching your excitement. But before you could fully emerge in the race, you notice another car pulling up right next to you.

A red Aston Martin.

“Shit–”

“GO!”

Bumblebee quickly speeds up. Your seatbelt kept you seated. Things become scary as Bumblebee starts to make sharp turns. Although your well-being was a concern, you also thought about the car you saw before.

And suddenly, Bee bumps into the Aston Martin.

Or more like the Aston Martin bumped into him.

“Fancy seeing you here, Bumblebee,” Knockout’s voice was loud enough for the two of you to hear. “I am surprised your boss let you off the hook.”

Bumblebee said something, this time you could only understand one thing. “Back off.”

Having to race a Decepticon was definitely not on your to-do list. This was supposed to be a fun, simple undercover story for your job.

“Bee, we can’t let him get close to the other cars,” you say as Bumblebee moves abruptly. “Get off the road until we lose him!”

Bumblebee speaks once again, more than you could understand but only one word. “Optimus.”

“Do you want to get in trouble?” you ask him. “Come on, we can lose him!”

At hearing the possibility of getting the Prime disappointed, Bumblebee quickly shifts gears and heads into the nearby forest. Moving across the trees and bushes was hard but Bee showed immense skills as he dodged all obstacles. Of course, he would leave some mud behind for Knockout.

“Ugh, I just had polish!”

Dirt came into contact with Knockout’s main window. Now he is shooting lasers or whatever alien weapon he has in his arsenal.

Speeding up, Bumblebee makes another turn, making you feel dizzy. But you still tried to look forward. You felt helpless and you wanted nothing but to make this end. But another question comes to your mind. Why was Knockout here? What did he want?

Bumblebee keeps driving and from the rear view mirror, you notice Knockout slowing down.

“He finally gave up,” you say with relief and you hear Bumblebee say ‘Good.’

“Maybe we can go back to the race–”

And suddenly, the road was not there.

Nothing at all. The two of you didn’t notice that you had been ascending on a cliff, and had met an end.

Now you are in free fall, embracing yourself for impact. Thinking that this could be your last moments.

But the impact never comes as a bigger figure embraces Bumblebee and takes the fall for itself. You hit the back of your head and feel yourself moving in circles until it comes to a sudden stop.

You put your hand on your head, it hurts and the dizziness didn’t help. At first, you see blurry but your eyes slowly adjust to the view.

“Are you alright, Bee?”

“Bumblebee.”

You recognize Optimus’ voice. You didn’t know if to hide or pretend to be dead.

“Return to base, I’ll talk to you later.”

Trying to hide yourself and in hopes he didn’t see you, you cover your face with one hand.

“And leave (Y/N), I’ll talk to her right now.”

Bumblebee opens the door for you and you get out. Still feeling dizzy but unafraid of the Prime. It got colder. And you weren’t happy to see him. You wanted to make that obvious.

You were near an empty road now but you didn’t know exactly where you were. You were unfamiliar to the area.

Bumblebee drives off, leaving you and Optimus alone.

“Do not get angry at him. It’s my fault,” you say without looking at him.

“Putting you humans in danger and not contacting for backup at the sight of a Decepticon is merit enough for a reprimation.”

“No one got hurt,” you start to walk away, without any idea of where you are going but if you follow a road you are bound to find something. “You can leave now, before someone sees you.”

Not taking any chances, Optimus transforms into his alt mode. A peterbilt truck.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere.”

“Where is this somewhere?”

“Away from you.”

Optimus slowly follows, still displeased at your lack of care or better say, your lack to understand that you did something wrong. Most of the time, the Autobots understood when they had done something wrong. But you? It doesn’t seem like you could comprehend.

“I don’t understand why you seem to be displeased when it was you that defied orders,” he says. “I should be the one displeased, not you.”

“Then be, I am not telling you what to feel,”

“Are you not aware of your circumstances?”

“Oh, I am well-aware,” you turn around and put a hand on your hip, giving him attitude. “I just decided to ignore them. Maybe you should too.”

You turn around again, walking into a road that you didn’t know where it will take you.

“Just get inside, we’ll talk at the base.”

“No.”

“It’s 10 degrees outside and you lack proper clothing,” you hear his voice become louder, clearly annoyed at your current behavior. “You’ll freeze to death before you make it to a warmer location.”

You know he is right. It's cold and windy and you wished you were wearing something warmer. You wanted nothing but to hope inside the vehicle and enjoy the warmness of his heater.

But you were too prideful for that.

“Then so be it.”

“Your being is oblique to me.”

“I am not asking you about your opinion on me Prime,” you say as your voice almost trembles. “And I don’t care.”

“We agreed on a guardian-protectee relationship between the two of us, yet I believe we haven’t become accustomed to the roles,” Optimus speeds up to be at your side, his size protecting you from the wind. Although you were too angry to notice. “I am your guardian and I am here for your protection but I can’t do that if your actions are that of an unintelligent human.”

You didn’t know where to look at him. But you got closer and hop into his side step, putting your hands on his windows to look at his board. You weren’t about to allow him to call you stupid without a fight.

“You know what your problem is, Prime?” you raised your voice even when he could hear you perfectly before. “You are so used to everyone following your orders and thinking what’s best, when in reality, people don’t have to do what you say nor believe in you blindly.”

“I don’t owe you anything, I am just here to help you find the locations for the relics and that’s it! I don’t have to do as you say,” using your index finger, you keep poking at the window with each word that escapes your mouth. Your warm breath causes his windows to fog. “You also don’t owe me anything so you can just leave.”

You step down and begin to walk away. Wishing that a car could pass by or that the coldness would kill you already.

The wind was so loud that you could barely hear Optimus speak once again but you caught something in between breaths.

“... You promised.”

You stop walking and turn around. Still in his alt mode, his lights were off.

“What?”

You ask him for a clarification, not necessarily being able to hear or if you heard correctly.

“You don’t even remember your promises?”

“Only the important ones,” you reply seeing that his attitude towards you wasn’t going to change either. You didn’t even care what promises he was talking about nor care to try and remember.

“I see,” he pauses before continuing. “It was my fault for expecting more of you.”

“Well, maybe if you were to tell me what you expect of me, I would–”

Before you could finish your sentence, you feel something warm coming out of your nose.

“You are leaking,”

His voice immediately changes, more concerned this time. Forgetting completely about the previous argument.

You try to stop the bleeding with your hand, only for it to spread on your hand. Looking at the red liquid, you start feeling nauseous, you hate the sight of blood even if it comes from you.

“I am fine,” your hands start to tremble. You are cold, you are seeing blood, which you hate and the situation is not getting any better. “I am fine. I-I am fine. This happens when I get really angry or nervous.”

“Blood is not a good sign in human anatomy,” Optimus once again gets closer to you, this time sounding more demanding, preoccupied. “Allow me to take you to the hospital–”

“Hey lady!” Without noticing, a car had approached you. A young man drove up to you, not getting out of his car. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh? Yes!”

It's like you had manifested it and you were glad you did. You went nearby the car, trying not to look too much like a creep.

“This is your truck?”

The young man pointed at Optimus who stood immovable.

“Umm, yeah, it's a very old truck,” you made an emphasis on the word ‘old’ still trying to into Prime’s nerves. “I should've thrown it on the junkyard a very long time ago but it has some … sentimental value, I guess.”

“Do you want me to check on it?” the young man asks.

“I would appreciate it if you just took me to a gas station, I’ll just get a friend to pick me up.”

“Sure, as you wish.”

You walked to the other side of the car and opened the door. Immediately, you were greeted with warmness. Without so much of a goodbye, you left Optimus on the side of the road. Feeling empty and somehow … disheartened.

.

.

.

“What is a girl like you driving a PeterBilt?”

You tilted your head, your confusion clearly obvious.

“You don’t know the type of truck you drive?”

Oh, he was referring to Optimus. You looked at the guy, thinking that only a mad man would take the risk of allowing strangers inside their car. Either that or he was expecting to receive something in exchange for his services.

“Hey I am just a girl, I only care about looking pretty,” that sounded so stupid coming from you. In reality, you just didn’t want to let out too much of the real you.

“Were you part of the race?”

“...Perhaps?”

The young man lets out a small laugh, which strangely enough you didn’t find unattractive. He was tall and was nicely built, short brown hair and hazel eyes. He was quite handsome.

“I don’t blame you, races can have pretty good prices,” he says as puts his hand behind your seat. You expect the worst.

But instead he pulls out a jacket and offers it to you. You are hesitant but decided to put it on your legs.

All the previous confidence you had suddenly goes away. Now, you are aware of your situation. Cold, alone in a strangers car, with no story to tell and hungry. Dress in a way you don’t mind but would much prefer to wear something warmer.

“Next week there will be another race, you should come,” he says. “Starting from Road 83 and ending at the top of Blanca Peak. Winner gets 5K and a car of their choosing.”

Well, maybe not everything was lost.

“Are you a racer?”

You ask, hoping that this could turn into an interview.

“Yes, actually, I won first place in today’s race,” he says casually as if winning was something often that happened to him. “That’s my hobby but I am actually a mechanic.”

“And what did you win?”

“This car.”

You didn’t know much about cars, only that the pretty ones were expensive. And this car was definitely pretty. Red leather and a white speedboard with blue lights around the entirety of the car that made everything look modern.

“I might check it out,” you say, suddenly feeling the need to impress the strange who’s name you don’t know yet. “Any advice?”

“Instead of driving that Peterbilt, drive that mustang you showed up earlier with. It will give you a better chance at winning.”

You feel a chill run down your spine. He noticed you pulling up at the race, he recognized you.

“I keep an eye on newcomers on the racing scene,” he says as he starts to speed up.“ And only a crazy man would let a stranger into their car.”

He made a turn and finally, a gas station could be seen in the distance. Your plan, as stupid as it is, was to call a taxi to take you to your car’s location. You had money and had your phone but it was an explanation that you didn’t want to give to a stranger.

You couldn’t tell him that you left your actual car at a different location only to be picked up by an alien robot car to race, to end up driving a truck. It wouldn’t make much sense.

“And here I thought chivalry wasn’t dead.”

“I would have helped you regardless.”

He slows down as the gas station comes closer to view. He keeps looking back as if he had the feeling that something was following close by.

“Because I am a woman with a mini skirt?”

You tried to see where his morals stands, as of right now, he hasn’t looked at you not even once. Concentrate on the road but you keep looking at him, hoping to catch a glance of his eyes.

“I had no particular reason,” he says as he turns on the heater a bit more. Even Though he is not looking at you, he somehow knows that you are still cold. “And because, well, I kinda want to know how you went from driving a Mustang, to driving a truck.”

“Long story,” you feel relieved seeing that he was actually going into the gas station. Good thing he didn’t turn out to be a creep. “Even if I told you, you would think I am crazy.”

“Let me guess, aliens?”

“More like robot-aliens but yes.”

Once again he smiles.

“Alright then, I believe you,” he finally looks at you and you feel intimidated by his strong eyes. “Robot-aliens it is.”

.

.

.

After a long day, you finally ended up safe in the base. The young man didn’t give you his name and you had forgotten to ask. But he let you keep his sweater even though you insisted on giving it back. He also gave you a handkerchief to clean up your nose, the bleeding had stopped a few minutes after getting in his car but he still wanted you to keep it. And of course, you weren’t about to give back a handkerchief with your blood on it.

Your new room wasn’t a pretty one.

Being hidden under a massive rock or plateau, there weren't exactly any windows to look at the beautiful Nevada desert.

It feels like a prison, cold and completely white bricks. You think about writing in your notebook but decide to not. You don’t know how safe you are or if you are being watched over. If anything, tomorrow at a coffee shop or at work would be better options.

You just wanted your old life back. When you weren’t seen as crazy and were a respectable journalist.

But for now, all of that is nothing but a dream.

.

.

.

Optimus didn’t look at you when you left the base to go to work.

Ratchet noticed a hostile atmosphere in the base. From Bumblebee’s sulking for defying Optimus’ orders to Optimus’ evident sadness from your absence.

The doctor had noticed that the Prime had grown accustomed to you. E enjoyed having you around, always had new things to talk about with him. Mostly about world news and his thoughts on them. The two of you would spiral down the rabbit hole and just talk for hours.

And it's something that Optimus hasn’t done in a long time. You, whatever you did, were capable of making the Prime talk and talk.

And Optimus was unaware of it. But he enjoys talking. He loves to geek out and talk about things that interest him. Poetry, literacy, books. And although you were well-versed in the on Earth’s literacy, you took an interest in Cybertron’s writings. And Optimus was more than enthusiastic to teach you.

It had become some sort of ritual.

He talks and you listen.

Maybe it was the journalist in you or just your being that made you a good listener. You looked genuinely interested in everything Optimus had to say.

And just like Optimus had a talent for talking and inspiring others, you could make anyone feel listened to. Truly made them feel like their words matter.

And that’s what Optimus probably needed. Unconsciously, Ratchet thought.

You had started living here for a couple of weeks after the Decepticons found out about your location. You were given a new phone, one easy to track in case of an emergency. Went back to work as if nothing had happened.

When you return, you’ll see the kids and hang out a bit in the hangar. The go into bothering Optimus.

“How was your day?”

You asked him.

“Fine,”

Optimus would reply dryly.

“Today, I found this book you might like. Give it a read if you would like.”

It’s all you would say before leaving the book next to him and going away. Such a small book for such a big bot, even after mass-shifting, the book would be small on his servos. Ratchet didn’t think he would read it, being too busy doing Prime stuff.

“Did you read the book?”

“I did … It was interesting.”

“It’s one of the best pieces of literature our planet has to offer,” you said. “What about Cybertron?”

And with that question, the unthinkable happened. Optimus started a conversation that probably didn’t have an end to. He started babbling about the great writing of Cybertron, the arts, the music, the plays. Everything that he ever enjoyed and that had now become a memory,

In front of the Autobots, he had to be a leader. With you, he didn’t have to be that. Although he is too foolish at the moment to recognize the opportunity in front of him

“Sounds fascinating, I wish I could read Cybertronian books.”

And ever since you said and without you knowing, Optimus began translating pieces of Cybertronian literature for you to read. It’s taking him longer than he expected. Human language being too primitive to be able to translate accurately.

Ratchet knew this because Optimus would sometimes come up to him and ask him, “How do you think this would translate to English?”

And they would end up discussing an accurate translation, only for Optimus to end up creating a new word, new vocabulary that hopefully would make sense. He even wrote notes, just in case you might not understand something.

To Optimus, this was how coexistence should be. You share with him everything that enriches your culture and he would do that same. Because by understanding the souls through the art, we can understand the differences as well.

Every monday, you will leave a new book on Optimus’ workstation. Today was no exception. Ratchet looks at the book and reads “Pride & Prejudice.”

What an interesting title.

The doctor looks at you, who after a long day of work, you still take the time to go to the library and take out a book for Optimus to read.

And Optimus, although still cross, he peeked from the hallway to make sure you were here. To ensure you had come back safe.

You haven’t said a word to him and he hasn't approached you either. Probably still vexed at each other. But caring nonetheless.

Ratchet approaches Optimus and he doesn't notice his presence. The Prime too concentrated hiding halfway to notice his old friend standing next to him.

“I haven’t seen you act like this since eons ago, Orion.”

Optimus stands back, his view fully covered by the wall, the hangar no longer visible. He wasn’t surprised at Ratchet calling him by his old name. But rather at the fact that he had caught him staring at you.

“I am sorry, it’s just that this reminded that time with Elita–”

Ratchet stops talking as the memory of her came to his processor. Seeing Optimus’ uncomfortable faceplate didn’t help the situation either.

“I was just reminded of the past when you were an archivist. I did not wish to disrespect you nor bring back unpleasant memories.”

Ratchet looks away, unable to see Optimus at his optics. Feeling ashamed for bringing up a topic that hasn’t been discussed in a very long time.

“Do not worry, old friend,” Optimus says, walking past Ratchet, his voice is comforting as he had taken no offence by Ratchet’s previous words. “I am aware my actions may be seen as uncommon.”

“But do not believe I do this with intention, (Y/N) has her way of making me act in the most foolish of ways.”

“For once, I believe it is good that you find yourself in an inconvenient situation,” Ratchet says. “She has found a way into your processor, I presume?”

“Yes, but her stay there is not a pleasant one,” Optimus’ voice then becomes more annoyed as he continues to walk into the hallway with no direction whatsoever. “She is exasperating in my every circuit in ways not even Megatron could do.”

“And may I ask, why has she taken such a spot?”

Ratchet observes Optimus, his movements and the small gestures he makes.

“As her guardian, I only have her safety and best interest at my servo, but she wishes to go against those wishes.” “She doesn’t understand reason.”

“Old friend, I think you might have confused the relationship you hold with (Y/N),” Ratchet puts a servo on Optimus’ shoulder as he looks down. “You are her guardian but you cannot command her. The best thing you can do is to advise her but not restrain her freedom.”

“Are you inferring that I should let her be in harm’s way?”

“No. What I am saying is that harm will come her way regardless of the circumstances,” Ratchet notices how Optimus looks from side to side. Clearly nervous, mostly confused. He blinks multiple times when he is excited. But avoids eye contact when nervous. “But wouldn’t it be better if you are there when it happens?”

“She’s not a soldier so with her you don’t have to be Optimus Prime nor Orion Pax,” Ratchet knows that his words were being processed by the Prime who listened closely to his advice. “You just have to be you.”

“And I think with her, that’s all you need to be.”

.

.

.

“(Y/N)?!”

Miko approached you with clear excitement in her voice. You had just come back from work and kids were always excited to see you.

“How was it? I heard you went to an illegal car race!”

It’s only been two days. Saturday was the race and Sunday you just stayed in your room to avoid contact with Optimus. Now, it is Monday and the kids naturally show up. Nothing out of the ordinary but sometimes their excitement was too much.

“It was … unexpected, I didn't get out too much information but I’ll be ready for the next one.”

“When is the next one?”

“This Saturday,” you say as you sit on the sofa. Your feet hurt from using heels the entire day. Feeling tired, you close your eyes, thinking that soon enough you will go into slumber.“And nothing will make me miss it.”

“Oh, but I thought you and Optimus were going to give us a presentation?”

Your eyes immediately open, and you look at Miko, looking for more answers and details.

“Yeah, the other day he told us, you and him were going to give a presentation,” she says as a matter of fact. “But I wouldn’t blame you if you decide to dip, illegal car racing sounds more fun!”

“Let’s meet this Saturday to finish up details and in the next upcoming weekend we can present our research to Fowler and the kids.”

Your mind quickly takes you back to another memory.

You remember Optimus looking hesitant, something you weren’t used to.

“Is everything alright?”

“It's just that it's been eons since I have done something like this … I am not sure if I am still capable of doing a good presentation.”

“Everything will be fine, it's supposed to be fun! But if you want this Saturday I can help you practice! And if you mess up, I’ll be there to back you up, I promise.”

You didn’t know how much that would impact the Prime. Maybe that meant too much. It was something that he wanted and had been planning for a long time. All he wanted was a meeting with you and you denied him that.

Whether it was because of work or because you simply forgot, you didn’t remember about what was promised.

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

Miko’s voice resonated in your brain, quickly putting your thoughts away.

“Yes, I just … I need to talk to Ratchet.”

.

.

.

“Are there any plans to get back the other relic from the Decepticons?”

You ask Ratchet as you stand on the elevated floor, being able to see him face to faceplate.

“Let’s just say there is no rush,” Ratchet says as he looks at his data pad. “We need all the relics to build the entire map.”

“So the relics are a map?”

Ratchet nods and points at the screen in front of him.

“I’ve been running some tests on it. The relics have been made using Cybertronian and Human technology. Hence why the relics are located in places only humans would know about.”

You look at him, clear confusion on your face.

“Are you telling me that Cybertronians and Humans have known each other since centuries ago?”

“Yes and–”

Ratchet quickly stops talking as he looks around the room. As if he was looking for somebody. He walks a bit closer to you.

“I don’t want to say too much since this was part of Optimus’ research.”

“Research?”

“He told me that you and him were planning on having a presentation about Cybertronian-Human history,” Ratchet says. “This information was part of his research and well he looked … thrilled to talk about it.”

Ratchet notices a sadness in your face. You were restraining yourself, too shy to say the things you’ve been wanting to say.

“Is there something you wish to tell me?”

“I think … I messed up,” you finally open up, knowing that Ratchet was probably aware by now about the whole ordeal. You had come to him with the hopes that he would bring Optimus as a conversation started as you didn’t know how to begin. Glad that he didn’t disappoint, you continued. “I promised Optimus something and I didn’t keep that promise.”

“Then I believe an apology is overdue.”

Ratchet knows that Optimus will be fine and let things go as long as there is an apology. By Primus, Optimus probably doesn’t need an apology. He just needs you to start the conversation and pretend nothing has happened. As he is too shy to start the conversation with you.

“I don’t think an apology would be enough,” you try to look at Ratchet’s optics but he avoids them by looking at his datapad instead. This lightly made you lose confidence but you couldn’t back away. “I am planning something but I think I might need your help. Only if you are willing to, of course.”

Hearing that, the doctor finally adverts his attention to you. Optics to eyes.

“It will be my pleasure.”

.

.

.

You had everything ready.

Snacks, coffee, paper copies of your research, a presentation board, a TV, energon and oil cups.

The conference room was filled with three kids, Fowler and the Autobots. Some of them were confused as to what they were doing there. Yet, they didn’t seem bothered. All eyes were on you as you sat in front of the table, looking at you for answers as to why they were here.

“So, are we starting?”

Arcee asked as she looked straight into your soul, she could tell that you were nervous.

“We are waiting for Optimus,” you say, hoping that he will get here anytime now. Ratchet had gone to get Optimus from his private quarters. He was taking longer than expected and every second made you wonder if he was still angry with you.

Why wouldn’t he? You promised him something and didn’t pull through with it.

Another question appeared in your mind. Why did you care so much? At the end of the day you will be exposing them soon. All of this is a facade, one that will end sooner or later. Yet, you want Optimus and everyone’s approval.

“Cybertron and Earth: How Cybertronians and Humans Have A Longer History Than We Thought.”

Fowler read outloud the title of your research and just looked at you.

“You know, you should work on the headline, this is horrible,” he said as the rest of the kids nodded their heads in agreement.

“Yeah, what about, Cybertron and Earth: How Cybertron is cooler than Earth!”

Miko says as spins on her chair.

“No, what about, Cybertron and Earth: Their Journey Through The Stars,” Jack added, he seemed to be too interested on this, which surprised you.

“Ha! That’s something Optimus would write,’ Bulkhead was also enjoying himself, taking a good sip at his oil can.

“Maybe a more fitting title would be, Cybertron and Earth: A Detail Research On Human-Cybertronian Relationships,” and Ralf, of course, loved to be here. He was the first one to start reading the research without having to be asked to.

Everyone started talking loudly to each other. Debating what a better title would be, even Bumblebee gave a few ideas.

It was a lively room but everyone went quiet when, suddenly, Ratchet appeared.

Alone, with a disappointed face.

“Apologies, (Y/N), Optimus wasn’t in his quarters. I tried to contact him but he said he was on patrol,” Ratchet looks at you, it pained him seeing you so disheartened. “He sounded to be busy, he won’t be coming back anytime soon. ”

.

.

.

There was no point in continuing the meeting if Optimus wasn’t there.

You called it off and everyone left quietly. No questions asked.

Deciding to forget about tonight, you wore your red wing once again. A mini-skirt and a cute revealing top.

Road 83 was filled with many racing cars and people waiting for the race to start. The atmosphere was just as the same as the previous race but bigger and more flamboyant. You didn’t know how the police hadn't come and shut the place down. But that wasn’t your job and you didn’t care.

Parking a few meters away from the actual race, you walked for a bit until you saw the start line. There you found cars of all shapes and colors. Vibrant shades of pinks, greens and yellows. Led lights and loud engines.

And then, there was a truck.

Your truck, Optimus Prime.

You quickly ran towards him and hopped into the passenger seat. Hoping that no one had seen you. But of course, they did, who wouldn’t pay attention to someone driving an 18-wheeler for a race?

You were met with warmness from his heater and a very unpleasant face. Optimus hologram who you didn’t find pleasing to look at.

“What are you doing here?” You quickly ask as you close the passenger door.

“I was looking for you,” Optimus hologram quickly says.

“For me?” you ask, looking at his hologram. Black hair and white shirt with a denim jacket and loose jeans. Looking like a country boy. “Look Optimus, I thought we talked about this, you can’t stop me from–”

“No, I understand that now,” he says, his voice soft but strong. “I cannot stop you from doing your job. It’s part of you and I wouldn’t wish to change it even if that puts you in danger.”

“But if danger does happen, I would like to be there for you to protect you.”

There’s sincerity in his voice. Even some culpability. You didn’t want him to feel like that. All the shame should be on you. Not him.

“I–” “I am sorry. I had made a promise to you and I didn’t keep it.”

You look away from his holoform, not because you disliked this form but because you couldn’t keep eye contact. Your guilt and shyness overpowered you.

“I tried to make it up by making a big conference today but you weren’t there,” you say. “I thought you were still angry at me.”

The race was about to start. You can tell by the cars near you that were turning on their headlights and engines. People were spread to the sides, to ensure they weren’t in the middle of the road.

“You … made a conference tonight for me?” Optimus asks and even when you didn’t see his face, you can tell he is surprised by his tone of voice. “Even when you were going to miss the race?”

“I had to keep a promise,” you pressed your hand together tightly. So anxious and yet you wonder why he made you feel that way. “And well, I think you are more important than a race.”

What a stupid thing to say. What a completely stupid, false and idiotic thing to say. You never thought you would find yourself saying such a thing. That an alien robot is more important than your job? It must be a lie, you thought to yourself. That this was your mind just doing what it does best. Getting information.

And yet, it felt so natural.

“But your job, you have to make a report on this.”

“Yeah but do you know the struggle I went through to find someone who sold Premium Royal Purple High Mileage Synthetic Oil in bulk in Jasper? They don’t have it here, I had to get it shipped,” you reached out to his hologram and put your hand on top of his. It was like feeling static. Like when you touch the crystal of an old television when it's on.

“So, I would prefer to just go home and finish the presentation, what do you say?”

Optimus wanted nothing more than to just go back to the base and leave all of this mess behind. He wasn’t made for this kind of scene. Maybe many years ago, the old him. When he was careless and responsibility-free. A part of him didn’t want to do it. Because if he does he will get attached and whenever that happens, tragedy soon follows.

And yet, he couldn’t let you down.

Not when you were touching him. So gently, so softly.

So soft.

“I want to stay,” he says, his other hand, forming into a fist. The urge to feel more of you is being repressed. He doesn’t understand why he feels such a strong need. “We can have other presentations but you need this opportunity. What do you need?”

“Well, ideally, I need to interview someone and maybe take some video and other testimonies.”

You put your hand away, as you had noticed that Optimus hologram seemed a bit uncomfortable with the act. It was a boundary you shouldn’t have crossed.

“Then allow me,”

Suddenly, you feel something restraining you on the seat. A seatbelt adjusted across your chest and hips.

“I have a race to win.”

Suddenly, you felt him speeding up. You should be scared, being trapped in tons of metal and yet you knew you couldn’t be in a safer place. It was this new sense of security and new found closeness that allowed you to enjoy the moment.

It wasn’t about the race but about Optimus.

“Let’s go!”

You say to him as Optimus maneuvers though the road, his alt mode was too heavy to keep up with lighter cars. But these cars were normal human-made. Optimus was built differently in all the sense of the word. With different kinds of metal, parts and circuits.

You see an orange car pulling up closer to you, he lowers his window and screams to get your attention.

“GET OUT OF THAT OLD RUSTY TRUCK AND COME WITH ME SWEETHEART!”

Optimus immediately uses his horn, a loud sound crossed your ears and flipped the guy off.

“Show him who’s boss, Prime!”

You could only give him words of encouragement as the other cars passed by. But they were close to Blanca Peak. A dangerous hill if you don’t know how to manage your speed and have good breaks.

The first turn came quickly, some cars letting their open wide enough for Optimus to come by and surpass them. His wheels made a screeching sound as they moved against the hard and cold asphalt.

A tunnel came next, it was a tight road and two other cars were in front of him, impeding him from getting past him.

“Hold on tight!”

And the first thing you thought of was holding onto his holoform’s shoulder. Action that made Optimus go faster, causing a strange reaction from him. He speeds up and drives on the tunnel's wall, quickly passing the two other cars and leaving their drivers in a state of perplexity.

They had no idea a truck could do that.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” You told him as you let him go, getting back on track, there was only one car left to defeat.

“Me either!”

He replied, his holoform smiled at you and you thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad afterall. He looked content and you wonder where has this Optimus been all of this time? Are these the kind of things he wanted to do but couldn’t because of his responsibilities? If there was no war to be won, could this have been Optimus?

He had no worries here with you. He didn’t have to overthink, he didn’t need to. There was nothing but the two of you, right here this moment. With your laughs and encouraging words, with your small touches that make his engines accelerate.

He was no Prime, he had no duties here. No burdens.

It gave him a sense of freedom. A feeling he thought he had lost forever in the corners of his memory. Yet, he found it once again. With you, only you.

And that terrified him as much as it excited him.

The car in front of you slowed down, a beautiful black Lamborghini or so you thought. Not like you knew much about cars.

He made his engines rev up and him slowing down clearly showed his confidence in his speed. You couldn’t see the driver, the windows were tinted black.

He followed Optimus close by for a few seconds before revving up and going past him. It was a clear challenge.

“Come on, we are almost there, you can do it!”

You encourage him once again.

The finish line was close. You could see it from afar, the people gathering. Optimus was able to match the Lamborghini’s speed. You were, quite literally, on the verge of your seat. Your heart beats faster, the closer he is to finish the race.

You could hear the people scream, cheer, with their phones in their hands to record a race that will certainly be talked about for the rest of the year.

And …

It's a tie.

“LET’S FUCKING GO!”

You jumped into the arms of Optimus’ holoform. His alt mode immediately doing circles in celebration. His tires were loud and even made a few sparks due to the friction with the asphalt.

Optimus wasn’t expecting to win, he wanted to of course, but the result was better than expected.

It wasn’t winning that made him excited, it was you. Who happily embraced him. Your smile and exhilaration.

Your bare skin against him. Your beating heart, your laugh and smell on his holoform. That although it wasn’t really him, he could feel through him. And he wanted more. More of you. More of whatever this feeling was.

And indecisive, but with a need greater than his logic, he is tempted to hug you back.

But you pulled away at the last minute.

“Wait here,” you say, your excitement too big for you to notice his disappointment. “I have to see who the other driver is.”

You opened the Optimus’ door and jumped off, adjusting your skirt, you confidently walked towards the black Lamborghini.

The people around applauded and cheered but you didn’t care too much for them.

Not when you noticed a familiar face coming out of the car.

“Well, you proved me wrong,” he says. The same young man who had given you a ride a few days ago. “You can win a race with a truck.”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn't alone,” you smiled at him and waved. Suddenly happy to see a stranger. “But I had a lot of help.”

“Let me guess, robot aliens?”

“Indeed.”

“Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, my name is Alex,” he stretches out his hand and you take it, firmly giving it a shake.

“I am–” you hesitated, not knowing if you should give out your real name. “Umm, you can call me Redstar.”

Alex tilts his head in curiosity but he doesn’t ask further.

“Very well, Redstar, what do you say if we split the prize?” He puts a hand on your shoulder and slightly makes you turn around. In front of you there were multiple cars. All of them looked expensive but extremely nice. “What do you want? The money or car of your choosing.”

“Mmmm, good question.”

You didn’t think you would get this far, you didn’t want to take anything. One because it wasn’t against your ethics but if you said that then it wouldn’t make sense as to why you would join the race.

“I’ll tell you want, I’ll let you have both prizes,” Alex gets closer to you, whispering in your ear. “If you let me take you out on a date.”

“What’s a date?”

Before you could say anything, Optimus’ holoform stood behind the two of you. You weren’t used to seeing his holoform outside of his truck form. He stood around 6ft tall, yet a bit shorter than Alex. His blue eyes had a few wrinkles and dark circles under his eyes. An update, you thought. Overall, there was a country aura around him you couldn’t describe.

“What are you doing here?”

You asked him as Optimus grabbed you by the wrist, mostly out of a protective manner. He didn’t know Alex and it was better if he took precautions.

“Is this the help you were talking about earlier?” Alex asks, eye Optimus up and down. “I was expecting robot aliens.”

“Uh, yes, he is the driver,” you say as Opitmus stood quietly.

“Well, I have to admit, you are an extremely talented driver,” there wasn’t a hint of rivalry in Alex’s voice but rather a friendly one. “Not everyone can drive a truck like that. How many years have you been driving it?”

“All my life.”

Optimus finally speaks and you are relieved he can have normal conversation with another human besides you … kind of.

“I see, it is what it is for some folks like us, uh?” Alex then looks at you. “And I am sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your girl but you need to understand my reasons, she’s quite beautiful.”

“I am not his girl–”

“She indeed is.”

You weren’t expecting that answer from Optimus. He said it with such sincerity as if he had thought so since the day he met you. Or as if it was common knowledge.

“But it's not only her beauty,” Optimus says, as his blue eyes meet yours. “I think there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

Your heart beats faster. Your face feels hot and for a moment you feel like your nose might start to bleed again. Was that how he really felt about you? Did he see something you couldn’t?

“I- I-am not–, we are just friends,” you say, quickly getting over your shyness. You couldn’t act like this in front of Alex, there was a facade to keep up. “And Alex, I would like to go on a date with you.”

“Sweet,” he says, happy to hear that he might have a chance. “Meet me next Saturday at the PinkPizza? 8 o’clock?”

“Sure,” but suddenly, you remember something. An important and pending activity you had already planned. “Actually, what about Friday? I already have plans for Saturday with a friend.”

You look at Optimus and you see his face light up.

Alex sees the interaction but he doesn't think of it too much.

“As you wish.”

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.

You kept the money and Alex was happy to add a new car to his collection. Although the money will be going to charity, you were still happy about the night’s turn out.

“And tell me, number one racer, Optimus Prime, how does it feel to be the winner of tonight’s race?”

You were being silly, he was too. Especially when you got back to the base and sneaked into the outside rooftop to make a bonfire. He drank oil and you smoked a cigarette.

The entire Nevada desert is in front of you. The stars and moon decorate the dark sky. It's beautiful. For the first time in a long while, you took the time to appreciate nature’s beauty.

“I would say … I am not surprised,” he says as he takes a sip from his oil.

His holoform was ok but you much prefer to have the giant robot. The real him.

“Getting cocky are we? Remember it was still a tie,” the warmth of the bonfire feels nice against your skin. “You almost lost to Alex.”

“That male human who was close to you?” Optimus asks as he sits next to you, his large frame helped from any wind making its way to you. “He was a skilled driver.”

“Yeah and I’ll be interviewing him this Friday.”

“Is that what a date is?”

You remember he had the same question a couple of hours ago. This intrigued you, wondering two things. By what he told you before, he had some type of Cybertronian intimacy before, whatever that implied. But he didn’t date before? Was that not part of Cybertronian culture?

“Um, no but the date is an excuse for me to meet up with him and interview him. Of course he won’t know it's for a report.”

“I see,” Optimus doesn’t look as hesitant. He may be liking the oil barrel a little too much. “Then, what is a date?”

Finding his curiosity to be adorable and you unconsciously moved closer to him.

“It's kinda like quality time you spend with someone you care for,” you say and with a cocky smile, you look up at him. “Why the interest?”

“I read the book you left for me.”

“Oh, Pride and Prejudice?” you had forgotten you had borrowed that from the library for him to read. “How did you like it?”

“I found it amusing,” he says with some excitement in his voice and you can tell that he enjoyed it more than he would let on. “I didn’t know humans could express their feelings in such ways. I got curious and made research about human relationships and the word ‘date’ would appear often.”

“I see … but some things in the book aren’t accustomed anymore,” you sigh, thinking back on your own love-life. Basically, a failure. “Although I sometimes wish it wasn’t the case.”

You didn’t notice him getting closer to you. He didn’t notice either but it's as if his body automatically was drawn to you.

The oil was making its way through his circuits and although his reasoning wasn’t completely lost, he found himself more talkative. More willing to be close to you and open up.

“I found some similarities between Cybertronian and old-human courtship practices,” Optimus says. “Giving gifts and writing letters are common in Cybertron’s courtship culture.”

“But there is a human practice that caught my interest,” he makes a short pause, really thinking if he should proceed. But then he looks at you and all of his worries go away. “Dancing.”

“You don’t have dancing in Cybertron?”

You ask as you rub your hands together to create some friction. Although the bonfire in front of you warms you up, Optimus’ metal frame emits coldness.

“We have the music and the means to but inviting someone to dance as a sign of courtship may be seen as a more intimate practice,” Optimus remembers a time when he was invited to a social-meeting. He attended out of commitment because in all honesty, he found these meetings to be somewhat dull. There was music, energon, beautiful femmes but no dancing. No interactions. “After all, bodies must be in contact for the dancing to happen.”

“So you don’t know how to dance?” you had a funny thought of Optimus dancing and you smile at the mental picture. “Honestly, it's kind of a useless skill, so I see why Cybertronians don’t really have a dancing culture.”

“... I would like to … learn.”

You look up at him, not really believing what your ears heard.

“You want to … learn how to dance?”

“Is that such a bizarre occurrence?”

His optics divert from you. There is a blue tint in his faceplate that you didn’t know if it was actually there or if it was your imagination. It assimilates to a blush and you find yourself staring at him for too long.

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant. Dancing can be fun and it is an art, it's just … Well, I didn’t take you as one for dancing.”

“As you said, dancing is an art, one that I have no knowledge of,” Optimus remembers scenes of the book. How dancing and balls became such an important part of human courtship and relationships. It was a concept he did not understand, not fully. How communicating with your body can mean so much. He finds it amusing how humans were allowed to do such a sensual act, yet they were allowed to hold hands in bare skin.

“And in my need to satisfy my curiosity, I would like to know why humans regard it as such.”

“Well then,” you stand up from your seat and stand in front of him. “Would you like to try?”

“Right now?”

“No one is watching.”

“Don’t you require music?”

“No really, just follow my rhythm,” you extended your hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you through it.”

He looked side to side as if to make sure no one was watching.

You were expecting him to just stand up and follow your steps so it came to a surprise to you when you suddenly see him shrinking from 28 feet to around 6 ft tall. Another thing you didn’t know he could do. Nonetheless, this was definitely going into your notes.

He stands in front of you and he doesn’t move. Of course, he doesn’t know how to start nor what to do.

Taking the lead, you slowly grabbed his servo. It's very cold and yet you managed to hold it for a little, trying to give it some warmth before guiding it to move to your back, on your waist.

You had changed clothes before coming outside. Putting on sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt.

But a very small part of Optimus wished you had stayed in your previous clothing as if you had, he could be touching your bare skin right now.

And the thought that he wants to touch more of your skin, amazes him even more. He can’t fully understand why he wants to feel, to caress. Maybe because such pastel textures were unknown to him.

“Alright, let’s do something simple,” you say, looking down at your own feet. “Let’s just move left to right. One side to the other side.”

You showed him first and quickly followed. His movements are sharp and direct, with no rhythm whatsoever. He dances exactly how you thought a robot would. The scene was humorous, yet you didn’t find it in your heart to say anything at all.

“You are doing great,” you are leading, even though it should be him but you won’t mention it for now.

Suddenly, you feel him bring you a bit closer to him. What was a healthy distance, is now non-existent. You are met with coldness but he seemed so concentrated in his actions that you didn’t want to mention that it bothered you. The cold, not the closeness.

You were a bit nervous, as much as you didn’t want to admit it because there has been a question that’s been in your mind since a couple of hours ago.It feels foreign to ask, as if you shouldn’t and yet you know it shouldn’t mean anything. A genuine, but curious question.

“May I ask you a question, Prime?”

You ask this in a playful tone, because the left and right constant and static movements were just that … funny. And if someone were to see the scene, they would definitely think that insanity has befallen the two of you.

“It’ll be my honor to answer any doubts you may have.”

“When you said that I was beautiful,” you start, your voice still keeping that uncaring tone with you. “Do you really mean that?”

“I am not one to enjoy deception,” he says, keeping the movement as he speaks. He is content that he is experiencing this. Just like in the books, talking is accustomed while dancing. “Why your inquiry?”

He didn’t seem like he was taking the question in the wrong way. Which is what you had hoped to achieve. It was a stupid question, one out of oddity and maybe with a tiny … very tiny little bit of hope–

“I am just surprised that Cybertronians find humans to be attractive,” you have become more accustomed to his frame over-towering you. The movements became more natural but still stiff. “Don’t get me wrong, I think your physic is attractive, as strange as that sounds.”

In a strange way to return the compliment, you said the first thing that came into your mind. Deep down, you believed it. You didn’t know how to feel about that either. Optimus was probably the dream robot of some sci-fi genre lover. You know a few would be infatuated with the idea of a 28 feet tall alien who's the leader of an almost extinct species.

But those were within the realms of fantasy. And you never saw yourself as one to be captivated by such.

You know it must be this way. Not any other way. Because it couldn’t and it can’t be.

“I think you might be misunderstanding me,” Optimus says, picking up the pace of the dancing. Daring to carry you just a little bit and your feet for a small second doesn’t touch the ground. “I don’t see your appearance.”

“I see you,” Optimus says, giving you a turn just like he has read in the book. “Your being … Your spark, who you are, is beautiful to me.”

A painful sting invades your heart. It’s a heavy feeling. The type of hurt that it will make you remember.

His faceplate reflects the moonlight and there is a small smile. Probably the happiest you've ever seen him. Optimus is sharing this happiness with you and you feel honored that the great Prime let you see this side of him.

At awe at such beauty, you can’t believe he is real.

And yet, he is here.

And for now, he is yours to admire.

But before you could indulge yourself in his presence, your nose starts to bleed.

“Alright, I think that’s enough dancing for today.”

You let him go, no wanting to let him see you in such a vulnerable state. You turn around, and try to wipe away the blood.

“Apologies, did my words angered you?” the concern in his voice is evident. Believing he had hurt you or taken liberties he shouldn’t have, he follows you closely. “I didn't mean to offend you, I think your exterior is also very appealing to admire.”

“I am fine, it's probably just the cold,” you lied, still overwhelmed about the previous interaction. “I should get inside. Thank you for tonight, Prime.”

You finish cleaning up the blood and turn around to look at Optimus again. His optics still show concern, but you don’t know how else to comfort him that you are alright. His words, too kind and sincere and your body simply couldn’t handle it.

“No, I must thank you,” he says, keeping his distance. Now afraid that if he gets too close, he might hurt you. “You made me remember the good days of the past, in a race with an old friend.”

“You were a racer?”

You asked, glad to have changed the subject because you didn’t know how much your heart can take.

“No but when I was young, Megatron and I accidentally got in the middle of a race,” reminiscing about the past, Optimus talks just with the hope that he could enjoy your company a little longer. “Well, more like I forced him into it.”

“Wait, you and Megatron … Were friends?”

“Many eons ago, yes,” but then he notices your shivering. As a gentleman, he couldn’t allow you to endure it and as much as he wants to keep you to himself, he won’t allow your discomfort. “But I do not wish to bore you with dull stories.”

“You can never bore me,” and you were just like him. Also wishing that you could spend as much time as you could with him. “Please, go ahead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Only if you feel comfortable telling me,” you take a seat close to the bonfire again and Optimus doesn’t mass-shift back to his regular size. He stays close to you and this time, instead of coldness, you feel a warmth emitting from him. Alluring you to be closer to him.

“And of course, if I can stay near to you, you are warm.”

And he puts his metal frame against your skin, side to side. As much as he would like to completely allow himself to protect you from the chilly temperatures. To protect you from anything that may harm you.

“I wouldn’t dare to push you away.”

You and him talked until sunrise. Until no words could escape your lips, too tired from speaking stories and your ears too blessed to listen to heroic tales. Still wanting more and with so much more left to say. Slumber had taken you with warm servos covering you from harm.

And Optimus could only think how your eyes had more stars in them than the night sky.

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A/N: Sorry for the long wait … but here is a 11k chapter to make up for it.

Reader is gonna fall first but Optimus will fall harder

I really enjoyed writing this chapter as we deepened the reader and OP’s relationship. So now more fun things are gonna start happening.

Next chapter we’ll be going back into looking for relics and taking a look at the reader's past.

I think I’ll also add Optimus' past with Elita. Maybe not fully but just like small details.

I originally planned for this story to be around 10 chapters long but seeing that it's gonna take a bit longer for the story to develop, I assumed maybe 15-20 chapters? I WANT THEM TO YEARN FOR EACH OTHER! THE LONGING, THE DESPAIR, THE NEED!!! UNTIL THEY CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE AND THEY—

The addition of Alex’s character is still a bit in the works. I think I kinda want him to be a secret agent and he has been the reader's insider all of this time. The one who provided information about the existence of the Autobots.

I can’t wait for the reader’s betrayal of the Autobots. I can’t wait to write Optimus' reaction when he realizes that all of this is all a lie and you just wanted to get close to him to get information.

I NEED TO HAVE HER DO SOME CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT GUYS, BUT DON’T WORRY I KNOW HOW I AM HANDLING IT SO SHE DOESN’T COME OUT AS A COMPLETE JERK.

Many of you may wonder where is Cliffjumper but I think on this version of my story, he had passed away months ago.

I think I want to write a chapter where maybe the Autobots encounter their past’s ghost. Optimus and Elita, Arcee and Cliffjumper, etc. And reader is exploring their minds like that Ep where Bumblebee is on Megatron’s mind. And how heartbroken you are when you see Optimus dream being about Elita and how in love with her, he is. Making you realize how in love you are with him but none of it matters. Making up your mind, you go and—

Wait I CAN’T SPOIL STUFF.

As always, I did not proofread this. Lol. Thank you for reading this with all of its grammar and spelling mistakes.

Also I am very sorry I’ve taken long to respond to the comments/request but this took most of my time. I’ll be answering soon!

You may reach out me @ t-a-a-1 on tumblr for any questions, comments or concerns!

Once again … thank you so much for reading!

Previous

Next (Soon)

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: muscle memory (or not)

For @graciehart because she's awesome and she asked for revival smut. So, this is after Sushi:

Scully has no house, but she has a Mulder. Killer robots made them do it. Or not. Maybe they have to take responsibility for this one themselves.

Rated: Explicit

tagging @today-in-fic

--

Scully sighs as she sinks onto the couch, Mulder echoing her sigh with one of his own as he drops into his seat next to her.

“That was an interesting night,” she says.

He laughs and lets his head fall back. “Running for out lives from artificial intelligence? Yeah. Interesting is definitely one way to put it.”

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Anytime. I’m sorry about your house.”

She debates telling him that she never really liked the place anyway, but decides against it. That would lead to a whole lot of questions she isn’t ready to be asked. “It’s okay. But I might have to stay here for a while. Since my front wall is missing and half my things are burned to a crisp.”

“Stay as long as you want,” he says, and she doesn’t know how to answer that either. As long as she wants… she’s too tired tonight to deny that if he extended a permanent invitation, she’d probably take it.

“I’ll take the couch, of course.”

The look on his face as he turns his head is one of pure amusement. “And you expect me to say yes to that.”

“Not really, I guess. But how are we gonna do this, then?”

“We can share the bed.” He shrugs. “Unless you really don’t want to, in which case I will take the couch, or get an air mattress or something.”

“Air mattresses squeak on hardwood floors. You don’t sleep well as it is.” She licks her lips, staring intently at her knees. “The bed is fine.” She can’t help admitting to herself that a small part of her had been hoping to end up in his bed tonight anyway. They went on a date, for fuck’s sake. And since they used to be in a committed relationship for years before it all went to hell, she’s not sure all her previous rules about no sex on first dates really apply here. Separated or not, he’s still her Mulder and never stopped being that.

“Okay,” he says. “It’s gonna be fine. I mean, we’ll be asleep. And we can keep our hands to ourselves.” He sounds like he’s trying very hard to convince himself of that fact.

She’s not sure at all he’s right about it. Not when simply sitting right next to him makes her want to climb into his lap and kiss him senseless. But it’s gonna be fine. They’ll both be on their best behavior.

**

It’s muscle memory, she thinks, when he shuffles close to her the second they lie down and spoons up behind her. It’s muscle memory when she takes his arm and hooks it firmly over her waist, snuggling back into him. This is just how they used to fall asleep. Before. It doesn’t mean anything.

Neither does it mean anything when he kisses her neck after saying goodnight and she laces her fingers with his and lets out a content exhale.

And it doesn’t mean anything when she feels him growing hard against her and presses into him encouragingly before he can pull away.

“Scully,” he says, voice pleading, and she isn’t sure whether he’s pleading for her to stop or to keep going. But he stays where he is, and when she rubs her butt against his growing erection, he rocks into her.

Her mantra of “this doesn’t mean anything” begins to falter when she turns in his arms and he claims her mouth in a hungry kiss. But then again, it’s like she told herself earlier: they used to be practically married; the rules don’t really apply here. And they had a really tough night and deserve to end it with something fun.

Fun. That’s what this is. They’re having fun. Plus, they have needs. She hasn’t had sex since they broke up, and she’s pretty sure that neither has he. And sex is fun. They can give each other this. And they did go on a date. Although that would imply that maybe this does mean something after all…

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Mulder says, his lips brushing hers as he speaks.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

He pulls back, pauses. “Do you want to stop?”

She doesn’t even have to think about it. “Absolutely not.”

“But…” He hesitates. “We should probably talk about this.”

“I agree.”

“About what this means.”

“We really should.”

“Because this could change everything.”

“Definitely.” She moves her face closer to his until their lips catch. “We need to talk. Right now.”

“Before we go any further.”

“Yeah.” She kisses him again and lets him roll her onto her back, spreading her thighs so he can settle between them. “Talking would be a great idea.”

He hums as he pushes her shirt up, and she gasps as he squeezes one of her breasts and sucks her other nipple into his mouth. She’s throbbing with arousal, aching, and honestly, what is there to say anyway? He’s Mulder. There’s no universe in which she’s going to say no to this, not now, not anymore, not after all the hard work they’ve put into finding their way back to each other.

And when he kisses his way down her body, ridding her of her pants (his running shorts) and lowers his face between her thighs, any last remnant of doubt drops clean out of her head.

He moans as he licks her open, parting her folds and piercing her with his tongue. God, she’s been craving this. He hooks her legs over his shoulders and sets to work, lips and teeth and tongue, driving her out of her mind with need. This is not gonna take long.

She made herself bury the memories deep after they split up, tried so hard not to think of him when she got herself off at night, but forgetting this has always been impossible. Nothing in the world compares to the enthusiasm with which Fox Mulder eats pussy. He seems lost in it, enjoying himself so much he’s groaning into her as he presses his face closer and closer, flattening his tongue against her clit and making her whimper as her body tightens impossibly.

Her legs draw up and her back arches, her fingers curling into his hair, and her first orgasm hits her with such force it steals her breath away. He draws it out, sending fresh sparks of pleasure through her again and again until her body protests, slumping onto the mattress, heart racing.

“Fuck,” he gasps, lifting his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I missed this.”

All she can manage is a nod; she can’t speak yet. But she’s definitely done mourning the loss of her vibrator.

“God, you’re beautiful,” He moves up so he’s on top of her, and then he’s kissing her deeply, her taste still on his tongue. She hopes repairing her house will takes weeks. Months. Forever. Hell, maybe she’ll just leave it the way it is. Who even cares anymore.

“Fuck me,” she whispers, and he doesn’t ask if she’s sure. He doesn’t hesitate. They know each other; they can read each other better than anyone else.

With one long, hard thrust he’s all the way inside her and she cries out; the incredible stretch is just on the right side of too much. He’s so big. Another thing she never got over: how he fills her completely, how she feels him everywhere, how her body loves this sensation of being absolutely owned by him.

“You feel so good,” he says, voice strained as he stays perfectly still, letting her adjust to the intrusion.

“Move,” she begs. She needs to feel this, she needs to be sore from this, she needs him to just… take her. She needs him.

“Scully—”

“Hard,” she says.

She can pinpoint the second his self-control shatters. He groans and pulls back, then slams back inside hard enough to make her slide up the bed. And then he does it again, and again.

“Yes,” she whimpers, “God, yes.”

He grabs onto the headboard for leverage with one hand and curls the other around the back of her shoulder to keep her in place, and then he fucks her. He fucks her the way she tried so hard not to remember, the way that reminds her why she never bothered looking for anyone else. He fucks her like he’s claiming her, and she wonders if he really doesn’t know that she’s already his. But she’ll let herself be claimed as many times as he wants. It doesn’t change a thing, but it feels really fucking good.

She rakes her nails down his back and wraps her legs around his waist and has no voice to ask him for more, but he understands, he gets her.

The bed is shaking underneath them, slamming into the wall with each of his thrusts, and she can’t hold back her moans, doesn’t even try to. This is more than sex, more than release after a tough night, more than reconnection, even. This is an explosion, bottled up tension and longing bursting out of them with an intensity that sets the world on fire.

They don’t need to talk about this. It’s clear what it means. There’s no going back.

And the relief makes her call out his name, over and over, the only word that matters. Mulder. Mulder.

He knows how to move inside her, he knows how to get her where he wants her, how to give her what she needs. She’s burning up, the pressure in her core is unbearable, but he keeps her right on the edge for minutes, driving her wild but not letting her fall.

Flashes, hints of pleasure spike through her with every push in, and it’s so close to being enough, but not quite, not quite…

“Please,” she whines, “Please, please…”

“I’ve got you,” he pants, “Scully…”

He changes his angle, grinding against her clit, and her body comes off the mattress, her muscles tensing up in anticipation of her release.

“Come for me,” he says, and she does.

She comes so hard she screams, her nails breaking the skin as she takes his upper arms in a death grip, and wave after wave of pure bliss tears through her, making her tremble as her body rides it out underneath him.

He follows her moments later, burying himself deep inside her, spilling into her, his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck as he gives her a few final, erratic thrusts before he collapses on top of her.

She’s vaguely aware of him rolling them over so he’s on his back and she’s lying there half draped over him. She’s exhausted. Spent. So indescribably happy she can’t stop smiling.

“Wow,” he says at last.

“Yeah.” She laughs, loud and uninhibited and delirious with joy. “That was…”

“Perfect.”

“Unexpected.”

“Unexpectedly perfect?”

She looks up, shaking her head at him before leaning in for a quick kiss. “The ‘perfect’ part was absolutely expected. It’s you, after all.”

The happiness on his face makes her heart rate pick up again. She wants to make him smile. She wants him to know everything he is to her.

“I really didn’t plan this,” he promises.

“I know. Neither did I.”

“But I’m glad that it happened.”

“God, I missed you,” she says on an exhale, and he wraps his arms more tightly around her.

“And all it took to get us here was a few killer robots.”

“No.” She cards a hand through his hair. “All it took was us. And some time.”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot better.”

He pulls her into another kiss and she lets herself sink into it; she hasn’t really felt at home anywhere since the day she left him. But right here, in this moment, she thinks maybe it’s time to finally come home.

[mywifealhaitham]

More boothill x readers please🙏🙏

more boothill x reader headcanons

a/n: I wrote this like over the course of 3 days and honestly I was stumped... with literally no new leaks I'm going crazy... still have crazy brainworms of tbis guy !!! also too sleepy to find a proper banner

gn!reader besides one part (atta girl/boy), written before release per usual I'm going insane free my boy

- hes a clingy guy, especially at night whe all the action of the day has winded down. I'm assuming that he still functions somewhat like a normal human or atleast has a way to sleep and it probably requires him to function. - anyway he's clinging onto you so much in bed. he has you squashed in his chest as he engulfs you in his arms and he rests his head ontop of yours. it's surprising pleasant to cuddle him despite his robotic features.

- the mornings though can be 50/50. sometimes he has to wake up early for business or something and it breaks his heart to leave you all cold and alone in bed (he says wiping an Invisible tear while clutching his chest). he makes sure to either leave you a goodmorning note or text and gives you a fleeting forehead kiss. on the other hand most days he wake up later and you're absolutely not allowed to leave him. if he feels you stirring in bed he clings onto tighter and if that isn't effective he restorts to flirting. gently grabbing your waist with one arm and tracing his fingers across your torso with another before swiftying pulling you back to bed with a chuckle.

- he's a huge gift giver too. he isn't exactly the richest guy ever so he can't give you super expensive jewelry or fancy restaurant dates but he makes it up with the sincerity of them. most of the time he gives you flowers he's either bought off street vendors or picked himself but sometimes he gives you a nice piece of jewelry or another type of gift you'd like.

- he likes quality time alot. he loves sweet words, thoughtful gifts and sweet touches but personally just being with you is enough for him. literally whenever you're in his vicinity or even mentioned he breaks out a large grin. he is your biggest fan ever... constantly hollering atta girl/boy if you do anything

- besides gift giving he's also a acts of service guy. like I said last post he's always at your beck and call ready to help you with whatever you need. silly headcanon but I see him as a good cook even if he might not be able to eat. he makes you the most tastiest and healthies meals you enjoy all while wearing a kiss the chef apron (yes is he expecting that kiss he will be disappointed without it)

- does he ride horses? we won't know for awhile but he'd definitely teach you how to ride. sitting behind you while gently guiding your hands to the reins while whispering Instructions into your ear, the heat from his body plus how flustered you practically melts your skin off. and when you start riding he holds onto your hips, praising you while you start getting the hang of it. once you've gotten good he jumps off and puts his hat on you and flashes you a smirk

[shuenkio]

Birthday present | Psh. 🎁

Paring: Sunghoon x M!reader | Genre: Fluff

ᯤ Synopsis: He was unhappy with the gift that you gave him, SH was mad but what kind of present did he truly want?

ᯤ Cw: None maybe.

ᯤ Non proof read | Eng is not my first.

ᯤ This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

ᯤ Crd to all the owner [dv/pics]

A✓N: probably disappear after this one for real[fr], the exam is under my nose and here I am, writing delusional thoughts. 🫂

To be friends with Sunghoon was so easy; you don't get why all those girls say it's so hard like this, it's so hard like that. When m/n just go and give Sunghoon a bottle of water one time after his practice for the match as a figure skater.

Ever since then, you and him get along pretty quickly, or maybe you're just his teammates? Privilege, of course. But little did you know that Sunghoon is not the type to express his heart or how he feels about something, nor is an exciting surprise out of his expression. He was indeed a cold person, to be honest.

Yet you can still hang out with Sunghoon; having enough patience to be there for him whenever he's spacing out, freezing, is like sometimes you wonder if you have a robot friend. Cloud began to set into a breathtaking sight of night, filled with the city lights lit up. It was time to go back home after a long, intense day of practicing. Sunghoon is not here because he had finished before you ever since this morning.

Checking your phone for a time, you saw a reminder pop up on your notification.

"Sunghoon's birthday today; let's post and wish for him."

Oh, it's actually his birthday; maybe time flies too fast to even think about anything; December 8 is here already. Furrow your brow, rubbing your chin with your slender fingers. Having deep thoughts, what should you give him for his special day? He's not the type who loves luxury things like men do, such as watches, belts, or whatever you just know he'd not too plead at it.

Pop, you suddenly get an idea by gifting him glasses because he likes them a lot. Wait, what if he doesn't like it? Perhaps winter is approaching; a scarf wouldn't be that bad, isn't it? It's keeping everyone warm; each one of us needs it. A scarf that it. Must stop by a fashion store before heading home to see him at his place.

7 p.m. comes by in a blink of an eye, and you find yourself knocking on his door. You didn't realize that he'd be throwing a party and celebrating with his family and friends; all you had in mind was to deliver him his gift. The door cracked open, revealing a taller figure. In front of you, Sunghoon, who had a birthday hat around his head. Funny, because he's not into childish stuff; it must be his mom.

"M/N, you're here! Uh, what are those?" Seeing a plastic bag in your hand makes him wonder what it could be. As you respond quickly by saying it was his gift, so then both of you get inside the house first. The party is still ongoing, yet some of his relatives are already full, which makes the house empty for some reasons.

Settled down all of your stuff in one place as you make your way to where Sunghoon are. He was in a kitchen, pouring soda into two empty cups. Tapping him on the shoulder while your hand is holding a bag behind your back, ready to surprise him even if he won't be surprised anyway.

"M/n? Here, soda, you must be tired from the training!" Said from a tipsy guy, handing you a cup. You didn't accept it yet till you finally handed him the gift you've been wanting to give him before taking the cup. Sunghoon didn't realize he was smiling from ear to ear the moment M/N gave him.

Whether he was surprised or not, a gift is a gift; it was meant to be a little curious. What could that be, isn't it? Fishing inside the brand plastic bag, he found a vintage scarf inside; it suits his skin tone well though, despite being as pale as snow. He then unwrapped and blanketed his neck with his new scarf. Did he like it? You bet he might not by the face he made right now, catching you off guard a little.

"Did you like it? Sunghoon, we've been friends for ages, but I can't deny what your favorite thing is you love the most. Sorry, Hyung, if that's not on your... expected list." Feeling a little hurt and guilty, a present is meant to be accepted in all kind the guest gives, while Sunghoon did otherwise.

"I don't like it, quite much m/n; you should know me better." With a smile that almost wiped his cheeks, Sunghoon frowned, unhappy. The scarf on his neck, the item you spend time thinking deep to find one—guess you're wrong this year. Sigh, you have to make it up to him this time; anything will do.

"Sorry, really, I'll find something more perfect for you; just say it." Picking on your finger's nails, you determined you'd do as Sunghoon told; one word will do; that's all Sunghoon needs to say. The taller's lit up slightly; this is the moment he has been waiting for for years. Anything? Sunghoon likes it.

"We have been friends for ages, right m/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Then, let's not be friends anymore; I'm tired of this friendship." Nani? Goosebumps were running and throwing your skin as your heart sank deeper than a Titanic ship. Did he really say that? What did you do wrong to be as guilty or bad for him to have the guts to no longer want to be friends with you?

"What do you mean, Sunghoon? I've never done anything wrong, am I? Right?" Tears are almost forming; a waterfall could break anytime soon. To prevent that, Sunghoon takes a rewind turn and gets into the point then. He was afraid you'd be a cry mess if he didn't spit any loner.

"Be my boyfriend instead; I hate that I can't be more than a friend! I wanna love you, m/n," placing your palm on your chest; if only only you had heart issues, a second won't spare. M/N almost nearly fainted with the sudden confession from a friend of his, who is the cold-hearted guy. This is something.

"Kill me now."

"I'll take that... As a yes, my boyfriend." 

[sharkwidow]

Silence and Arrows | Clint Barton x teenage reader!

🏹⁀➴Summary: A mission in Sokovia goes wrong, and the reader finds themselves caught in the wreckage. As the chaos unfolds, Clint Barton, the calm and caring mentor, helps them navigate the dangers. Through everything, their bond grows stronger, and in the quiet aftermath, there's a sense of belonging.

🏹⁀➴Content warning: Violence, destruction, injury, trauma, emotional distress.

🏹⁀➴Word count: 3,100

🏹⁀➴Note: In this fic, the reader is mute and communicates through gestures and writing.

It was a stormy night when he found you for the first time. You, staring blankly, as if you weren’t really there. As if the world had forgotten you. You were alone, soaked to the bone, curled up in the corner of an abandoned building in a forgotten part of Eastern Europe. Clint Barton had been on difficult missions before, but this one… this one felt different from the start.

He saw you before you saw him. His training kept him sharp. He approached silently, like a ghost. He didn’t want to scare you, though he knew it was unavoidable. When he was close enough, he noticed your trembling lips and wide-open eyes. You didn’t say anything. You just looked at him.

“What are you doing here, kid?” he murmured, voice low and calm. His tone wasn’t sweet. Clint wasn’t sweet. But he was… careful. Like he was afraid to break something that was already shattered.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. But you didn’t move away either, and that was enough.

“Are you alone?”

Again, silence.

Clint crouched slowly, keeping his distance. He raised his hands, knowing you might not understand, but he did it anyway.

«Safe. I’m here.»

«I won’t hurt you.»

That was enough for you to lower your guard just a little. Not much, but Clint knew how to read the small signs. He stayed by your side, under the rain, until you stopped trembling enough to move. He didn’t force you. He didn’t push you. He just stayed there.

And that was the first time anyone had done that for you.

Over time, Clint brought you to a safe base. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t speak. But you adapted. Fast, silent, lethal. He didn’t need long explanations. He just gave you what you needed: space, patience, and a bow.

He trained you. You learned. Your hands, steady. Your gaze, focused. You didn’t need words. He raised an eyebrow, you knew what he meant. He made a gesture, you followed. And when you made one back… well, Clint always responded.

Things didn’t get easier, but they became more… manageable.

The mission was a disaster from the start. You knew it. Clint did too. The city was at war. Ultron’s robots in the streets, enemies in sight, and the sound of destruction all around us.

“Everything ready?” Clint asked me, with his usual calm tone.

I nodded, adjusting the bow, feeling the weight of the situation on my shoulders. The tension in the air was thick, and even though I couldn’t speak, my nerves showed in my trembling hands.

“Good. You cover the east flank. I’ll take the west. If anything goes wrong, we meet at the extraction point. Got it?” Clint looked at me with that usual mix of firmness and care.

I nodded again, knowing the mission wouldn’t be easy. No matter how much you train, war is never something you can fully control. But still, you felt ready, like everything you had learned had led you to this moment.

The city was a chaotic battlefield, buildings destroyed, air thick with dust and smoke. Clint moved beside you, and your synchronization was perfect, like you had trained for this your whole life. Every arrow, every movement, calculated. But nothing could prepare you for what was coming.

Suddenly, the roar of an explosion made the ground shake beneath your feet. Debris fell from nearby buildings, and chaos broke loose.

“Watch out!” Clint yelled, but it was already too late.

The impact of the rubble hit you, and before you could react, you were trapped beneath the remains of a collapsed building. Darkness and dust clouded your vision, and the air became unbreathable. The sound of gunfire and battle cries faded from your mind, drowned out by the crushing weight of destruction.

You curled against a broken wall, hands covering your ears. Everything became noise, an unbearable mix of screams, metal, and your own pounding heart. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

And fear… fear completely froze you.

You didn’t know how much time passed until you saw him. Clint, covered in dust, with a bleeding gash on his brow, knelt in front of you.

He said nothing.

He just raised his hands.

«Breathe.»

«I’m here.»

It’s me. Clint.

«You can do this. You’re strong.»

«Look at me.»

His fingers moved slowly, firmly, as if the world wasn’t falling apart around you. And it worked. Because with him, it always worked.

You started to breathe again. First slowly, then deeper. Your hands stopped trembling. And when you sat up, Clint simply nodded.

“Good job,” he said with a small smile. “I knew you’d get through this.”

The trip back was long. Not much was said. It didn’t have to be. He drove the jeep while you stared out the window, letting the blurry trees wash away the sounds of Sokovia.

The farm appeared like a sigh. That patch of land in Missouri that seemed to exist in another world. Surrounded by open fields, quiet and calm. The open sky. The tall grass. Home.

Laura was already on the porch. She smiled when she saw the jeep, a cup of coffee in hand. Lila and Cooper ran out, hugging you as soon as you stepped out. You, who rarely reacted, held onto their arms in return. You clung a little longer than you expected.

“Everything okay, honey?” Laura asked softly.

You nodded. Clint was unloading the gear in the back.

“She’s alright,” he said with a faint smile. “Just needs time. Like all of us.”

Nathaniel came out onto the porch with a mischievous smile, the little one jumping to hug you too.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he hugged you, so sure of what he said, like he had always known you would be.

You smiled slightly. You didn’t say anything, but just having him there, with his warm hug, was what you needed.

The night was simple. Warm dinner, kids’ laughter, you sitting on the porch with a blanket over your legs and a notebook in your hands. Clint sat beside you, a beer in his. He glanced at you.

He said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

You wrote slowly in the notebook.

«Thank you for not letting me fall.»

You showed him the page. He read it, swallowed hard, and then, with his hands, answered:

«Always.»

And for the first time in a long time, you knew you belonged somewhere.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

*GASP*

...

how come the Team does this to me? They get me every. single. time. chat, I don't even want to click on the episode BUT I HAVE TO KNOW IF MY THEORY WAS RIGHT OH WHYYYY

(the following is my live reaction:)

starting off already? well no complaints from me

it's giving "Trust No One" from WOTFI 2023 arc

PFFT HAHAHHAHAHAHA

ok ok ik it's supposed to be serious, but that "wha happen?" audio clip from Mickey Mouse Shorts really caught me off-guard. Who in the Team did that? I want to say thank you

anyway, Mario dude you gotta tell everything, especially to Karen

...well, the minecraft part isn't wrong but he's not telling the whole story

omg 4 really is doing the same thing as 3 did a year ago

which is crazy considering that 4 wasn't in 3's interrogation on Mario. They're so cosmically linked that they came up with the same interrogation method, well it's also Mario we're talking about

yeah, we'll let Karen do the rest

might as well give in, Mario. it ain't worth hiding any secrets

...4?

he's so silly I love him 💙

idk 4, maybe you should be an inspiring VA (4 would be the type of parent who would do all the characters' voices when reading bedtime stories 😌↕️)

oh. oh holy shit.

well at least you're getting it out of your system, Karen. but I do feel genuinely concerned you. I still understand but worried.

the shadows making it look like she's stabbing Mario isn't helping with my concerns

...what was that?

*wheeze* no 4, it's not the IRS

OH we got a sniper here, folks. WPNZ?

AND A ROBOTIC HAND? yeah, we're not just guessing anymore. the anon from my inbox who said that WPNZ may be a cyborg, you nailed it man

Ain't no way, Mario died (he literally cannot)

THE GMOD GUN IS BACK

HOLY SHIT nice save Karen

it's confirmed: 4 doesn't pay his taxes

Mario: "I am..." [*Invincible title card*]

he still got the walkie-talkie.... what the hell did WPNZ say to him?

YEP now we're putting the pieces together

*wheeze* Mario what was that run?

pull some strings, you say? perhaps... CONNECTIONS?

GET EM GIRLS /ref

secretive, ay?

what's with the dark room?

*flashback* I just remembered a traumatizing experience in my past, hang on I have to stim and I'll feel better. /ref

damn Mario ok

oh wait, I recognize this animation style. Anaidon, did you work on this scene? :D

PFFT THE DISTRACTION DANCE FROM THE HENRY STICKMAN SERIES OMG

I did not see that coming, ok who in the Team did that bc that was good haha. nostalgia go brrrrrrrrrr

No, WPNZ, it really did work ngl

oh shit

yep it's a cyborg hand if it's compatible with an actual arm

Gear up, it's for a swell battle!!!

FLAMETHROWER?! even Mario's not liking this

no, 4! this isn't Mario, it's Mr. WPNZ

😦

*pauses episode* ...chat, can you do something for me?

hold me back, and don't let go until I'm done. ready?

*ahem*

...WPNZ YOU SON OF A BITCH WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU AND I SWEAR YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LIVE TO SEE TOMORROW— *10 minutes and a nuke explosion later*

ok I'm good.

4 I'm going to need you to wake up buddy. c'mon you can't die, especially not you. 4 don't do this to me, you can't. you faced way worse stuff before, this can't hold you down now. your friends, your family, they're waiting for you to come back home. you can't leave them. 4 please

WE GOT A PULSE OH THANK GOD

IT'S A WEAK ONE THO, WE NEED TO GET HIM TO A DOCTOR NOW

I KNOW YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO, IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT 😭

at least Karen could finally get some answers

...a surprise?! OH HELL NO that guy nearly got them killed for ENTERING, it's a trap for sure

LET'S GO GET YOUR KIDS BACK but do be careful, we still don't know what we're up against

😭

get 4 outta there!! oh god, is the Crew gonna see 4 in critical condition? Beeg4? *head in hands*

I swear the Team is out to get me (also Mario carrying out 4 strangely reminded me of a scene from a fic I read long ago)

and ofc the whole building on fire goddammit

(btw that fall reminded me of the insomniac spider-man teasers ifykyk)

no Karen, hun you aren't. you're like one of the best parents of the entire show

you're trying to be better and give your kids the life you didn't get to have, that pretty much makes you a good parent overall

YEAH LOCK IN

alright, the moment of truth

huh? radio interference?

I FUCKIN KNEW IT YEP IT'S CONFIRMED

MR. WPNZ IS KAREN'S EX LOVER AND FATHER OF THE KIDS

(well nicc, looks like you get you keep your script after all)

oh, so he's pretty much a psycho, good to know *starts curb-stomping him*

I TOLD YOU ALL THE "HALF PINTS* NICKNAME WAS TOO SPECIFIC

what kinda monster? oh the mentally-messed-up yandere ass one, yeah that kinda monster

HE'S AT THEIR HOUSE?! FUCKFUCKFUCK

ok yeah I see how it is. violence isn't enough, time to commit crimes :)

no, don't end it there. please don't

*flips desk* AND THE MUTED-COLOR CREDITS OH C'MON

looks like I got something else right, it was a mini-arc. it's all within the math

Congrats to daekim_26 for your art being featured at the end credits! 🎉 hey, I recognize this, Ben reblogged this over on Twitter. ig the Team really liked your art

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

I. I'm just speechless omg. Like what am I supposed to say to that? Shadow, is this what you meant when you said we're not prepared for this? I need to walk out a sec, hang on.

ok I'm back. I guess first off, Team, wow. What an episode, it is absolutely insane how good it all was. Especially the writing and the voice acting for Karen, it tugged on my heart strings. And Anaidon, I KNEW YOU ANIMATED THAT SCENE haha!

Genuninely, bravo 👏👏👏 and my calculations were right after all

Actually, for me to post my theory hours before the episode was dropped, I'm surprised how much I got it right. Most of it, yeah, though I didn't expect how insane Mr. WPNZ is. More so doing it for himself and not the corporation, but still a lot of dedication was put into this. And he got a robotic arm! Not exactly like Clench (who has a mind of its own and can talk) but definitely advanced. So, the point could still stand that the tech, skills, and resources were based on his job at Hitman Inc.

Poor Karen, you can tell she's been very desperate in finding her kids by the voice acting alone. You can't blame her for going to these lengths. Like I said, understandable, but I do still feel concerned for her. And then, her psycho ex on top of everything smh, I won't be able to handle it.

And you can't even blame Mario either. He did the mission thinking it would help Karen, and Mr. WPNZ told him what to do. Then with the prosthetic taking Mario's arm, it wasn't even him. It was WPNZ, but I do feel like Mario's going to feel so guilty for what he did to 4.

Wrong things for the right reason 😔↕️

Speaking of 4, NO NOT MY BOY. Chat, I'm not okay. Like I knew he wasn't going to die, he's literally one of the main characters, but my heart dropped at that scene. Through the floor and 6 feet underground. I did ask for 4 angst, yes, but damn. Can you imagine how the Crew would react? Since 3 & 4 are cosmically linked, would 3 feel that 4's in critical condition? Oh Beeg, 4's his dad dude. Beeg may be pretty tough but he still cares for 4, hope he gets a bit of revenge for it. (and a sprinkle of mar4 angst)

...am I going to bring in goop!4 into this?

Who do you take me for? ofc I am. As I mentioned, the parasite would still be in 4, and because of what happened to him, it might be the necessary trigger for it to activate. After everything that had happened to him, the explosion really knocked him out. This is taken seriously, this mini-arc starts really close to the IGBP anniversary.... I wouldn't be surprised if the Team tease for the future goop!4 arc. Not immediately after the Hitman arc, far later. Baby steps, chat. If the Team drops at least ONE frame, a SECOND, about goop!4, I'll take it!

Anyway, since it is a mini-arc, we're not getting another teaser or a trailer. BUT we are getting an episode special, so we'll have to look out for that. In meantime, that's all from me. I'll see yall next time and remember, folks: numbers always go first!

man, Ben. I gotta say, the thumbnail you made, it was a cool reference to the Parasite movie poster. Awesome job!

...huh.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hey, there. Can you help me with this? I am stuck on creating with this motivation for my WIP.

Those who seek death shall live, and those who seek lives shall die How do you create a character with this type of character motivation? either is an important side character, villain, mentor, or even main character?

Hi! Some writers like to use character tropes as inspiration when they get stuck with a certain idea. Here are some examples I found for you that you can use as a guide. And alter as needed for your story:

"Death Seeker" Trope

At some point in the past, some characters have had a traumatic experience, found themselves dishonored, committed a crime they could not repay, lost everything worth living for, caught an incurable disease or just became bored with continued existence.

For whatever reason, rather than turning to suicide, they went off seeking battles to fight, hoping to find an enemy who would kill them, and achieve an honorable, heroic, awesome, or otherwise acceptable death, sometimes going as far as outright surrendering and offering their life to their enemies. 

Martyrdom Cultures may regard such a character as a role model, even if upon closer examination they might seem like a Martyr Without a Cause.

In cases of cruel Irony, the characters who snap out of it and find something to live for often end up dying or getting killed shortly afterwards anyway.

A real life example:

Jeffrey Dahmer frequently expressed his wish to die for his crimes while in prison. When he was attacked by another prisoner who attempted to slit his throat, he refused to press charges and requested to be returned to the general prison population. Only a few months later, he was beaten to death by another prisoner. His last words were, reportedly: "I don't care if I live or die — go ahead and kill me."

"I Cannot Self-Terminate" Trope

Perhaps they've just been wounded in a vital area and know they are going to die slowly and in agony, and just want to die with dignity/end the pain quickly. Perhaps they are prisoners and being tortured, and the hero cannot break them free but could shoot them.

In any case, while they're ready or even eager to die, they cannot do it on their own. This can also count as a Heroic Sacrifice, sometimes.

If the character is robotic, this may occur due to influence from Asimov's Laws. Specifically, the Third Law states that a robot may not harm itself, or through inaction allow itself to be harmed, unless doing so is required to uphold the First or Second Law. Even when not following the hierarchical laws of robotics, it could still occur if a robot is simply programmed for self-preservation.

The victim may plead for death even when it is possible for them to be saved, owing to the pain. The hero is likely to override that, often saying No One Gets Left Behind.

Accidental Murder: Occurs when a situation that wasn't intended to be lethal ends with the death of someone anyway.

Anyone Can Die: This is easily defined as definite Truth in Television, because all living organisms are mortal and are bound to, by statistics at least, eventually die for any number of reasons, with no fiction writers to determine how it happens. When used poorly or too frequently, this trope can cause Too Bleak, Stopped Caring, possibly with audiences uttering the Eight Deadly Words, as the audience won't see any point in getting attached to characters that they expect to die sooner or later. A good way to check if this trope applies is to see if who survives is an important plot point, rather than only how they survive.

Cheated Death, Died Anyway: When a character narrowly escapes death on occasion (and perhaps more than one occasion), only to die shortly thereafter anyway…in a completely different way. Exactly how close the two incidents have to be varies, so the important factor in this trope is the presence of irony. This can apply in a matter of minutes, months, or even (in rare cases) years; the deciding factor is the Bait-and-Switch element of the death.

Death Is the Only Option: The only way to achieve victory is to die.

Forgiveness Requires Death: In order to be forgiven of their crimes, the character must die.

Heroic Sacrifice: Sacrificing your own life for the greater good.

Jumping on a Grenade: Sacrificing oneself by using one's own body as a shield against a deadly threat in hopes of sparing others.

Metaphorical Suicide: A despondent character willingly resigns themself to a fate similar to death without actually dying.

The Problem with Fighting Death: …is that even if you win, you'll still eventually lose. Killing or imprisoning Death might not offer protection either, as his sister Entropy goes around making everyone grow old and wish to die while Death Takes a Holiday or cause a plague of ghosts as the souls of the dead get stuck on Earth. This is the problem with fighting Death, Hades, The Devil, Psychopomps, Anthropomorphic Personifications or even God; you just can't win. However, a draw may be possible with creativity. If all that matters is that there be a Death, then replacing him with someone friendlier or someone with whom deals can be struck and honored can be a way to go. This can be done by appealing to someone higher on the divinity ladder, getting someone else to kill and replace Death (or doing so yourself, if you're willing to accept the job for the rest of eternity), and flying out of Hell are all possibilities. In this way, one can say Living Forever Is Awesome.

Who Wants to Live Forever?: If an immortal being grows so sick of eternal life that they just want it to end already.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps inspire your writing! You can look through the sources for more information on each trope.

[compeddietiondiaz]

ok im back on my shit so hear me out for ONE SECOND. lower ur tomatoes for a bit, you can boo me at the end

the last alarm isnt horrible. its bad, yes but not atrociously horrible. if it were a longer than 40minutes episode, it wouldn't have been this bad. sure, killing off a main character is a shit kove in the first place but making his funeral episode about a b plot turned a plot is worse.

its missing a lot is scene, the off-screenification for this one is WILD. imagine instead of shit hot pile of garbage we got a longer episode. lets say we cant undo the actual problem (killing off bobby) but we could've gotten(and tbf i feel like writing fics about these myself):

athena's case about the dead kid to reflect HER grief (not ours btw, which was probably the main idea of it anyway but it came across at a jab at us). it wasnt bad by itself but very poorly executed.

chim's regrets and anger, actually see him on that run. how he got on that roof. show us that scene where he called for bobby's body to be released. i just know he DIDN'T keep it together.

buck's therapy sessions that turned him into this non-buck like figure that this episode portrayed. or even better he'd internalise it and NOT go to therapy at all and thats how he gets so robotic. he's shoving everything deep inside.

eddie's shock. we already didnt get a scene with him finding out, so at least, if he's THIS LATE to LA, WHY is he this late. no money? problems with his parents? chris? he's moving in slowmotion, hes devastated for not being there yet talks about scones.

ravi was ready to become a criminal for them. its his first funeral like this, he's trying to keep it together by asking eddie about the funerals he attented. extend that fuckass scene.

hen is so... weirdly uplifted. fine, but why? for someone who almost nearly died too, whose captain died she acts weird. could've given us a scene where she goes the "live for the one that saved u"

geralt wouldn't have been this bad if he had less screen time. he was also hurting, he tried to make them not feel better but understand he's not there to replace bobby. EVER. so by expanding everyone else's screentime, his wouldn't be so annoying.

the last alarm had bad writing because of all the scenes that are missing. its everything happening off screen that makes it shit. bc if you expand it, it would solve some problems.

i liked it bc i filled in scenes in my head when i watched it live but im pretty sure i cant rewatch it or my rating would go significantly lower.

you can get ur tomatoes now. also i did ramble a lot and might repeated myself but im not rereading this is emotional rant typing not prose

[pruneunfair]

Ranking OI maids.

23: Dobiella (The villainess maker)

The 20 people in the villainess maker fanbase have already agreed this girl is literally just Dobby as a anime girl from the way she speaks to the fact that their names sound similar. Most maids in OI tend to follow 2 personality traits: either they devoted to the point of nearly being husks or they are mean bullies who pick on their boss. Dobiella though... she takes that to a whole new level, girly isn't even a person she literally needs a purpose to live, even Ayla is creeper out by it, That hairstyle she has is wack too.

22: Lina (the tyrants perfumer)

Similar to Dobiella except it's not to such a concerning degree. She's a decent character but the bar is already quite low given how the characters are simple in TTOP.

21: Ellie (50 tea recipes of the Duchess)

Her design is cute I won't lie, braids and glasses are a classic ill always be a sucker for. But again, she's really not much other than a shy follower to Chloe ready to defend her. Won't change the fact she's still my favorite character in 50 tea recipes of the Duchess.

20: Ruby's maid (how to get my husband on my side)

I honestly cannot remember her name 😞 I can't remember which chapter she debuts in so I kinda just gave up on looking. anyway when it comes to personality she's still a tad dull but she's still got more than the last 3. The design is pretty meh but I can't fault her too much, she was pretty nice for all the times I remember her on screen.

19: Emily (actually I was the real one)

on one she really annoys me for some reason, probably cause she comes across as a real suck up but on the other hand, I can understand her desires for fancy clothes and materials.

18: Mina (Actually I was the real one)

Cosettes maid she had for like.. 5 chapters. I know a lot of people hate her for talking smack about Keira and not being grateful enough but the girl was also a homeless woman with her little brother. Cosette used Mina as a tool for her goals and let her get deported when everything went wrong during the rite arc. Remember the main reason Mina did what she did was because Cosette was using her brother's comfort and safety as leverage.

17: Annie (The villainess turns the hourglass)

Again, can't blame a maid for wanting a little more in life, with that being said it feels a tad weird whenever she acts like a pet whenever Aria offers her gold. Don't really like the fact that she also covered up Annie's freckles, let the Freckles be seen! 😤

16: Urania (From maid to queen)

Her rank might go up or down in the future since I've just started reading maid to queen but I liked the idea of a protagonist who could actually be selfish instead of perfectly kind or badass. Urania gets way too much hate so far in my opinion because she's actually more realistic and the only thing I'm concerned about is that she might become too stupid in her goal to return as a concubine since it's how she died in the first timeline.

15: Rose (Actually I was the real one)

The most iconic it Keiras maids. I preferred her first appearances more but for a maid with another personality dedicated to Keira but she's not as annoying as Emily and shows up more often than Mina. I do like her but there are better ones.

14: Emma (the villainess turns the hourglass)

out of all the evil maids Emma was one of the first who at least did it in a way that wasn't just tampering with food. She was a noble who lost her wealth and suffered a miscarriage so it did explain why a maid would be classist and raise Mielle with a superiority complex. Not bad for a side villain.

13: Anna (Not your typical reincarnation story)

I didn't really care about out her at first, she had a lot of Kuu dere traits and for a while she felt like a robot, thankfully she develops little by little as time went on and I love her for it.

12: Jessie (the villainess turns the hourglass)

Homegirl was just trying to do her job and I love her for it. After what Aria put her through in the first timeline she deserves that extra compensation.

11: The head maid (How to get my husband on my side)

Does this woman even have a name? 💀 I may have said braids+glasses were one of my favorite designs for maids but it's only 2nd to the experienced and almost muscular like designs. Beyond that her personality legit makes sense. She is universally hated for not accepting Ruby and while i do think attacking her for no reason is stupid it makes sense that's she not gonna immediately trust a stranger when she has people like Ellen to take care of. Speaking of that the relationship Ellen had with the head maid for as little of it that is seen is still very wholesome. We love our older ladies.

10: Emily..again (Death is the only ending for the villainess)

Probably the most iconic of OI maids and of course I like Emily but I do wish she had a little more to do with the plot, not bad but there are better ones.

9: Granna (Handmade tales of the handmaid)

Another maid protagonist but her concept is actually unique, a old woman who passed away of natural causes unexpectedly transmigrated as a 15 year old maid and with her experience cleans the mansion she works for with ease. The story is so far amazing and Granna mentally being an old woman instead of a ordinary office worker gets her extra points.

8: Lilian (who made me a princess)

Give this woman a raise Claude! That woman did so much for Athy I still consider her the one true parent to the kid.

7: Delice (Remarried empress)

Delice may only be remembered for being mutilated by Rashta but she still holds a special place in my heart. I felt so bad for her when her brother just told her nothing was wrong when Rashta was growing unstable and next thing you know during her next shift she gets framed and tortured 😢. Rashta I love you but not cool girl! In another universe Delice got to be spared and run away to start a little flower garden or a toy store with her dream husband.

6: Sancha (Sister I will be the queen in this life)

This little cutie deserves more than what she got. Don't get me wrong the story treats her pretty well when it comes to her new life and Ariande as a friend but at the same time.. I kinda think she exists to be the token homeless girl for Ariande to bring in to look better, she doesn't do much outside of cheer her lady on and I don't really care for her love interest that much. However I have noticed that Sancha is usually at her best when she's away from Ariande meaning she does more then be a cheerleader. Her moments of refusing to forgive Malleta were her best moments for her character. Speaking of which..

5: Malleta (Sister I will be the queen in this life)

one of my most favorite problematic queens though that's not saying much considering most of my favorite characters are toxic women. First of all: the character design, Sancha looks cute and all but she has the same super cute petite and youthful look most OI maids have. I know it's just because SITQITL puts non conventionally attractive characters as villains with exception of Ceasre and Isabella but I still love that Malleta stands out with a plus sized body, freckles, and narrow eyes instead of doe eyes. Her personality while admittedly trashy is still so entertaining given how delulu she can be. Personally I wish there were scenes where she and Isabella would just be gossip girls and talk shit about all Isabellas enemies. God why did she have to die so soon 😔

4: Chuchu (isn't being a maid better than being a princess?)

Pay no attention to the fact that she shares a name with a LOZ monster. Like I said my favorite kinds of maids are the muscular types who could carry a an entire table which is why Chuchu is one the greats. She's a total gentle giant and I'm so glad the series didn't kick her out completely when the FL moved on.

3: Helena (kill the villainess)

Im gonna throw hands with Helena haters cause what did she even do!? She made mistakes and was willing to apologize and make up for them and that still wasn't enough. Istg internalized misogyny did her dirty I tell you. As the 2nd FL I'm glad the author treated her with respect and actually brought up that Helena has feelings too just like Eris. What I loved the most about her was how she realistically handled the usual evil maid when some random maid put sand in Eris's dessert. When Eris slapped her Helena stood up for what was right and told Eris there was no reason to abuse someone else when they could easily just be fired. 👏 thank you Helena, thank you for finally doing what was sensible by firing the maid instead.

2nd: Sienna (isn't being a maid better than being a princess)

It was really hard to decide between Helena and Sienna so even though Sienna is up higher they are actually tied. Just gonna say it, out of all the FL's she beats all of them in terms of character design because that braid combined with green is perfect. The manhwa she's from is pretty short but it's still really wholesome albeit with a few cliches and random sad flashbacks.

1st: Bridgette. (This isekai maid is forming a union)

Reddit can complain about isekai maid villainizing nobles too much but I won't care because Bridgette, like Helena, IS a maid and naturally would be against workplace abuse. It's funny how quick they'll be about complaining that the nobles are one note because they don't have justifiable reasons to slap a maid while they don't bat an eye at the numerous counts of villainized maids in OI beforehand. Back to the point though Bridgette is one of the most complex protagonists I've ever seen. She can be mean, she can be kind, she can rash and she can still be resilient. That's what makes her so relatable she's not a single personality teathered to a ball and chain. Not only that but it's her and the entire story that made me feel comforted knowing I wasn't the only one turned off by the iffy tropes in OI being supported.

These tropes are all shown through flashbacks of Bridgettes past lives and I have to point out how much they still feel so unique even if they are the same soul, each of them making me cry one way or another. (Fawn and Muriel, my babies! 😭)