#GIVE ME A VALID REASON BESIDES ‘it’s to violent’

[disorentedfae]

My dad took one look and then said

‘I don’t know why you’re so percipient on liking things we told you not to’

And I kinda died inside

Guess who’s every ounce of courage to ask for the new splatoon game left her body and just watched her scream/cry internally

[adragonsfriend]

Padme was not a Witness

I will never join the “Padmé was stupid to go to Mustafar” parade—she had valid reason to believe in the possibility of Anakin’s redemption—but there’s something awful in the fact that she didn’t have to witness either of his massacres.

Obi-Wan and Yoda walk past the bodies of their people—of their people’s children. Bail Organa goes to the temple and sees a kid get shot down trying to escape (more clones than Anakin, but still).

Padme hears about the second massacre after sitting in her apartment while the Temple was on fire. She’s told about them in vague terms. “I killed them like animals,” “he killed younglings,” She has a touch of denial when she goes to Mustafar partly because of her belief in Anakin, but partly because—I think—the Tuskan Massacre was never fully real to her. She understands it intellectually of course, but violence on that scale is difficult to conceptualise without seeing it, especially if it’s easier to just let it go. If she’d seen the bodies? Or seen Anakin kill them? She watched that one refugee kid die slowly, not at all violently, when she was working with the refugee organisation, and it affected her for the rest of her life. It is not a lack of caring on Padmé’s part that’s the problem.

Imagine being Obi-Wan listening to Padme saying “there’s still good in him,” after walking through the Temple, seeing the lightsaber marks on knights and children alike—not even to mention seeing her get strangled. It sounds not only wild, but honestly deeply offensive on more levels than one (besides the obvious issues it’s another, “train the boy,” prioritise Anakin over everything moment, except this time Obi-wan’s entire world has been torn apart, rather than just losing his Master)

If Padmé had actually been a witness to Anakin’s violence? If it was made present and visceral to her?

I think her opinions and her actions would’ve been different.

Thematically, it is crucial that when Luke goes to the second Death Star, he is under no illusions about who Anakin is or what he’s done, and in his most desperate moment he chooses to ask Anakin for help anyway. Padmé goes to him still a bit in denial, still a bit convinced things can return to how they once were. When she starts to push at the illusion, Anakin accuses her of betraying him and strangles her to shut her up, attempting to preserve the illusion (the difference between Anakin’s state at the time of his confrontations with Padmé and Luke is a whole other, very important topic). In part, her illusion allows Anakin to believe he can preserve the past (to be clear—he is the only one responsible for the choice to strangle her; Padme being imperfect is not an excuse for domestic abuse).

Side note, but if anyone is not sufficiently freaked out by Anakin strangling Padmé, it's important to know that strangulation is one of the flashing red warnings that physical abuse is doing to turn deadly, very, very quickly.

Luke’s complete and honest knowledge of Anakin’s worst self means there is nothing for Anakin to lose except his son, exactly as he is. No illusions, no wonderful past, not even any good memories together. Just his son.

To me, that’s one of several reasons (both thematic and logistical) why Padmé’s plea fails where Luke’s succeeds. None of those reasons has anything to do with her being stupid to go in the first place.

(There are some wonderful fanfics out there that show Padmé actually making her disapproval about the Tuskan massacre—both despite and because of her love—actively known during their marriage, and I think that interpretation of her is a stronger character than ROTS gives us, and more in line with what we’re shown in the first movie)

[merakiui]

I love stepson!Floyd so much. Your ideas and headcanons are so good. 😭😭😭

Here's a headcanon about the other slippery eel, stepson!Jade, that I wanted to share with you: for the time that you've known him, Jade has drugged you 3 times.

The first time was because he genuinely wanted to get rid of you.

His dislike for you, though well-hidden, was just as strong as Floyd's. He wanted you gone. Instead of Floyd's violent tantrums and hateful words, however, he turned to quiet yet drastic measures: poisoning your quotidian beverage. A schemer from childhood, he even had the perfect timing. He committed the crime a few hours before your girl's night out, so it would seem as though someone at the party did it to you. His father would even scold you and tell you it's time you stopped partying; you have a family now, after all!

Jade offered kind wishes and gentle smiles the whole time you were on bedrest, but there was something about the way he looked down at you from beside your bed that genuinely terrified you. The look in his eye vanished just as quickly as it came, and you knew, and Jade knew that you knew, that he was the one behind your ailment.

It remained a silent secret between you. How could you accuse your husband's sweet, quiet child of such a heinous act? No one would believe it was him. Floyd? Maybe. Afterall, Floyd was the one who screamed at you and said he wished you would just die just two days ago. But Jade? No way. He'd never do something like that. It's Jade.

The second time was out of pure curiosity.

Between him and Floyd, Jade was the one to warm up to you first. Much sooner than his brother, in fact. During their fights, he was quick to remind Floyd that he spent more time with you, knew you better, loved you longer, loved you more.

He started calling you Mama shortly after the first dose of poison he fed you. The sole purpose of that was to give you a fright; he loved the way you twitched when he would ask, “Don't you think Papa is taking a while to get home, Mama?” He could see the gears turning inside of your head as you tried to read his words, as you tried to decipher their true meaning. He wondered how long it would take before you snapped and called him a creepy little bastard or something. You never did. In fact, you seemed to double down on your kindness towards him and Floyd. Perhaps it was the realization that you never would that made him interested in you, and with time, said interest could only develop into a twisted, ugly type of love.

It was that interest and curiosity that made him wonder if you would be stupid enough to let him drug you again. He was not covert about his intentions in the slightest. He had been quietly following you around the house for about two weeks (especially when you were in the kitchen) before the day that he offered to cook for you and Floyd. He had so many "valid and logical" reasons. “Papa won't be coming home tonight, so it's just the three of us.” “You've been working hard all day; you should rest.” “Let me do something nice to make up for it.”

He settled on something simple: sandwiches. His and Floyd's were vastly different from yours, however. He sat and watched as you stared at the dish he had lovingly placed in front of you. Would this push you over the edge? Would you toss it out, yelling at him and calling him weird?

You ate it. You ate it, thanked him, and went straight to bed, knowing that your vision would blur and your dinner would come back up very soon.

Halfway through the night, Jade crawled into your bed to feed you medication and water, calling you stupidly cute and cutely stupid. In the years to come, Jade would realise that stupid wasn't the word that he wanted. Had he the sense that he has now, he would have settled on “intentionally foolish.” You knew what he was doing, and accepted it, not out of a silly fear of losing your husband, but because he was your creepy child, your family whom you chose to love and trust, just the way he is.

The third time was an event for which Jade has felt not a shred of remorse.

Jade is all grown up now. Jade loved you first, but it was Floyd whose love first diverted from acceptable, platonic, familial love. In fact, until their early twenties, Jade frequently teased Floyd about his little crush on you. Now though, as a grown man, he sees that Floyd was onto something. He now wishes that he had joined his brother in getting his hands on you.

The strangest thing about the visit is that Jade came alone. Floyd often comes without Jade, but you can't remember the last time Jade visited home without Floyd racing him to get through your door first. You don't worry yourself with what he did to shake his brother for the day.

You don't know that Jade has been there since this morning, quietly switching between rooms and moving in and out of the house. Or maybe you do, and choose to pretend that you don't when you open the front door and let your son all but crush you. He's huge, much larger than his father, and his strength matches his Floyd's.

Like you do with Floyd on an almost biweekly basis, you try to reason with Jade. For a brief moment, you think you've gotten through to him. He's always been so level-headed and logical. But then he offers to fetch you some of the soup you've had simmering on the stove for the past few hours. "It’s been cooking for a while, and you haven't had lunch yet, have you?" He watches you eat, and you know, and he knows that you know, but you eat anyway. The next thing you know, he's pretty much forcing you onto the couch, insisting that you, “get some rest, Mama, I'll tidy the house for you.”

As expected, you're soon sleepily calling out for Jade, your loyal, reliable, logical, level-headed Jade, who you've chosen to trust and love, just the way he is.

AAAAAA OMG THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!!! OTL the silent resignation and gradual acceptance that he's weird, but he's still your (step)son... falling into the motherly role because when you chose to marry Mr. Leech you were signing up to love his sons as well. Even if you're not related by blood, there's still this familial attachment you feel for them no matter how cruel they treated you when they were children. orz orz waaaa it's so yummy. Jade trying to kill you in the most cruelly calculated way ever. T_T and then going on to use the same method twice more, only it's not coming from a place of malice but now curiosity. Him wanting to see how far he can push you, and when it becomes clear that you're not going to budge because you care about him he uses this to his advantage.

Jade keeping you under the soothing thumb of drugs just so he can take care of you regardless of whether or not you want that. And you just let it happen because that's who he is. He's always been that strange, creepy child with his morbid interests and odd behaviors. You're just so used to it, and it doesn't truly bother you anymore. Maybe it never did. Between Floyd's capricious temperament and Jade's devilish scheming, there's no room for disapproval. That's just who the both of them are, and they're immensely stubborn. It's pointless to deny them of what they want when they'll inevitably get it sooner or later. You know this and so do they, but it doesn't stop you from trying.

And in your weak, loopy, drug-induced state, home alone with no one to call for but him, Jade has his mama all to himself. :)

[matchavellichor]

AAAANNNNND another one:

Omi begs MC to let him help her whenever she goes out to slay poachers, ect. She never wanted him to get hurt, so she has always said no. After Omi starts giving her the could shoulder over it, she can't take it anymore, and she allows him to come along.

They bit off more than they could chew, however, and the last living poacher casts Imperio on MC and commands her to kill Ominis. (Poacher's injuries are too great to do anything else. Also just wants to make her suffer by forcing her to slay her friend)

She tries to summon the will to fight it, but it's not working, despite Ominis yelling at her, trying to snap her out of it. She disarms Omi and starts walking towards him. Nothing works until he pulls her into a kiss. It jars her enough that she breaks free from it and kills the poacher C:

bada-bing bada-boom. Happy ending <3

A/N: Finally getting through more asks, sorry for the delay 🥴 This was such a cute idea, ty for the request!! 💕

Kisses Against the Dark Arts

f!MC x Ominis Gaunt - Fluff - 2k words

Tags: Minor Descriptions of Violence, Use of Imperius, Crime Fighting Besties, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Banter

Summary: After dismantling a poacher camp goes astray, Ominis resorts to more unconventional means to free his friend from a dark curse.

“Are we almost there?”

“That’s the eighth time in the last half hour,” she huffs. “Ask me one more time and I’ll leave you to the Dugbogs.”

“Oh, excuse me for being concerned,” Ominis raises his hands defensively. “We’re already breaking curfew, we really shouldn’t stay out too long.”

She turns to blink at him. “You’re tagging along to destroy poacher camps with me and your concern is that we’re…breaking curfew.”

“Well, yes, it’s a perfectly valid concern,” he scoffs, as if it’s obvious. “Besides, I have a reputation to keep if I want to be made prefect next year.”

She shakes her head, incredulous. “I hate to burst your bubble, Ominis, but I think your reputation’s been sullied enough just by spending time with Sebastian.”

“Actually, I think it’s the contrary,” he retorts, looking smug. “I’m hoping that if Headmaster Black sees that I can successfully rally in the likes of Sebastian, he’ll consider me apt for the position.”

She considers this reasoning for a moment, before turning him with furrowed brows. “Didn’t he unleash a horde of inferi near the outskirts of Hogsmeade just last week? Is that what you call rallying in?”

Ominis looks unfazed, shrugging. “You win some, you lose some. I pick my battles.”

“Well, uh—now would be a good time to pick your battle,” she murmurs as she suddenly gets into a defensive position, wand arm outstretched in front of her. “We’ve got company, twelve o’ clock.”

“Why do you say these things as if I’ll know what you mean—” Ominis interrupts himself with a shriek as a spell just barely misses his head. 

She swiftly casts a few counterattacks while she ducks behind splintered logs and trees, shouting, “Up ahead, Ominis—I mean up ahead! Was the hurtling bombarda enough to solidify your sense of direction?”

Ominis narrowly avoids another incoming hex, a diffindo this time, rolling for cover into some underbrush. “Yes, thank you dearly for your help—you wouldn’t believe the wonders that near-decapitation will do for your spatial awareness!”

She sends a pillar of wooden crates careening through the air towards a trio of poachers, successfully burying them under layers of debris.

Ominis winces from behind her at the very audible sound of bones breaking. “Must you be so violent?”

An archer catches them off-guard from a surrounding tower and Ominis promptly sends a confringo in his direction, toppling the wizard from his perch in a fireball of flames.

“I hate to be that person, but I think that was arguably a bit more violent,” she murmurs, looking increasingly amused.

“Oh, quiet,” he scolds. “Minor lapse in judgment in the heat of the moment.” 

“Did Ominis Gaunt just make a pun?” she shouts over a chain of stupefies and expelliarmus, amusement and incredulity seeping through her tone.

He rolls his eyes. “It was not a pun, that would be terribly inappropriate.”

Even with a fair amount of banter to slow them down, working together they manage to eviscerate every last poacher with ease, and in record time. They free all of the captured animals with a few alohomoras, and she watches with satisfaction as they prance gratefully back into the forest.

Wiping off the soot on her cheeks from an awry confringo, she walks over to check up on Ominis leaning against a large oak tree, trying to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees. 

“That was…”

“Surprisingly smooth, right?” she beams. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I thought I’d be casting a few limb reattachment spells by now, but you actually held your own.”

Ominis looks visibly unamused. “Well, you’re going to be casting a scourgify pretty soon…Gods, I’m going to be sick. Is it normal to smell so heavily of charred flesh?”

“All in a day’s work, my friend,” she pats his back a bit too harshly and he dry heaves over the grass. “Though, to be fair, I wasn’t the one going crazy on the fire spells.”

“They’re effective!”

“Effective at making human barbecue, sure,” she snorts.

He groans. “Dear Salazar, let’s just get out of here before I lose my dinner.”

She finally concedes, picking up her rucksack and slinging it over her shoulder when a jet of white light hits her from behind, nearly toppling her over from the full force of the spell that hits her square in the back.

All Ominis can hear is the Imperius incantation sounding in his ears from behind them, and a satisfied snicker from a lone surviving poacher, more than pleased that he hit his mark.

Ominis scrambles for his wand tucked away in his pocket, but the panic coursing through his veins at his friend being struck makes his reflexes unsteady. An expelliarmus knocks his wand out his hand before he can even properly point it towards the aggressor.

“Oh, this should be fun,” a grating voice shouts, and Ominis’ head darts towards the direction of the dark wizard. “Teach you meddling little shits not to poke your snout ‘round where it don’t belong.” 

The wizard directs his attention to where she’s still standing frozen in place, staring blankly ahead, her pupils a hazy white. A cruel sneer stretches across his mouth and he nods his head towards Ominis. “Kill him.” 

She charges for Ominis immediately, forcing the blonde to stumble back, toppling over a tree stump. She looms over him, wand arm outstretched and emotionless eyes staring down at him, before the wizard tsks disapprovingly from behind.

“Stop, stop. Use your hands,” he sighs, almost bored. “I think killing your friend warrants a bit more intimacy, no?” The evil cackle that rises from his throat is enough to make dread shiver down Ominis’ spine. 

Obediently, she discards her wind beside her, landing somewhere out of reach on the grassy field. She lunges for him, pinning him down with her body on his, fingers scrambling to wrap around his throat.

She’s smaller than him, but hours of training in the Undercroft has grown her strength significantly. Ominis finds it a genuine struggle to hold her hands away, her nails digging long, red lines down his arms as she thrashed.

“F-finite incantatem! Finite—oh, dear Merlin,” he attempts to no avail, voice frantic, her name tumbling from his lips in a litany of pleas to get her to snap out of the trance. “It’s me, it’s me, you can break the spell, just concentrate!”

“Uh oh, I don’t think she can hear you.” The poacher sits on a fallen tree trunk watching the entire ordeal, arms crossed lazily over his chest, a sadistic grin pulled at his lips.

Ominis ignores the taunting, using more force against her, collecting both of her hands in one of his while she still claws and writhes above him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Genuine remorse bleeds through Ominis’ voice as he scrambles to push her off him, flipping them over and pinning her wrists to the ground underneath him. “Please.”

The poacher frowns at the sudden change in position, unpleased. “Use the dagger holstered on your hip,” he directs with his wand outstretched to ensure the full-force of the command. “‘Bout time things got more interesting.” 

She unsheathes the dagger in one swift movement, blade pressed against the pale expanse of Ominis’ throat, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

It’s momentary, fleeting, but just then something flashes in her eyes. A brief flicker in the trance, the slightest stutter in her hand, color seeping through the milky haze of her irises. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, but proves useful anyways. 

Ominis capitalizes on this hesitation to wrap his hand around her wrist and keep her from applying too much pressure. A bead of blood runs down the long length of goblin-wrought steel, Ominis’ throat bobbing against the cold press as he swallows nervously. He winces when she tries to dig the dagger in more, cutting into unmarked skin.

“It’s me, hey, hey, just listen,” he tries to keep his voice steady, calming, but it wavers, his nerves an utter mess. “Your magic’s stronger than his. You can break it. Focus on my voice.”

“Oh, sure, that’ll work.” The poacher snorts, clearly entertained. “Maybe you should kiss her, lover boy, she might just be repulsed enough to snap out of it!” He doubles over laughing and Ominis grits his teeth in frustration. 

The suggestion doesn’t fall on deaf ears, however. 

Maybe he can blame the decision later on sheer desperation, a last ditch-effort to save his skin, pure adrenaline in the moment. Although, he would be lying if he said that was the sole motivation. He surges forward on instinct, lips crashing into hers, maintaining one hand in a vice-like grip around her wrist and the other cupping her cheek so she can’t squirm away from his mouth.

She freezes, eyes blowing wide, lips unmoving against his. The poacher is just as petrified beside them, in shock that Ominis had the gall to actually do it.

Just when he thinks his attempt was unsuccessful, the hand she has wrapped around the dagger goes slack, losing all pressure against his skin. She lets it fall to the grass beside them, blade discarded, before she’s bringing it back up to cup his cheek and pull him in for more.

Ominis feels his entire world tilt, his face heating, his brain too dizzy to procure a single coherent thought. It really is a terrible circumstance to have a world-shattering kiss. 

Thankfully, she’s somehow able to maintain better mental faculties. She outstretches a hand, fingers splayed open, casting a wordless accio for her wand dropped a few meters away from them.

The poacher is staring at them, mouth gaped like a fish, which is exactly how he remains when she sends a petrificus hurtling in his direction, another exhibition of impeccable wordless magic—because she absolutely refuses to remove her lips from his. 

He can feel her smug smirk when it hits the wizard square in the chest, toppling him over like a bag of bricks. He would’ve called her a show-off, if he had even the remotest capacity for words at the moment.

When she finally pulls away, his chest is heaving, a red flush creeping over his skin from under his oxford, over his neck and cheeks. She’s breathless when she finally finds her words, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “That’s…certainly one way to break an Imperius.” 

He lets out an awkward laugh before sheepishly helping her up off the ground, dusting remnants of leaves and dirt off her clothes. He clears his throat, trying to feign an air of indifferent composure. “Are you alright?”

She glances at him sidelong, amused by just how affected he looks. “Not sure,” she smirks. “Might want to kiss me again, just to get rid of any traces of the curse. After all, you can never be too caref—mmph!”

While her intentions were just to tease, she can’t deny the thrill that courses through her when he actually wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Her gasp dies on his lips as he presses his mouth to hers, her fingers curling into his shirt for support when her knees seem on the brink of buckling.

He kisses her hungrily, passionately, as if he wants there to remain no blurred lines between his intentions in kissing her, if the last one has left any room for doubt. This time, she feels her world tilt on its axis, her only grounding point being the protective confines of Ominis’ arms, his solid body pressed against hers.

She realizes she could spend hours like this, and she wonders why for two fearless, poacher-fighting mercenaries, neither of them had mustered the courage to do so sooner. 

“Better?” he finally pulls away, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, coated in smug satisfaction to rival even her own.

“I don’t know,” she grins, bringing her arms up to lock behind his neck. “Maybe we should be really, really sure.” 

[onmyyan]

Marcos Delmont HC's

A/N: omg he's here NOT EDITED

TW'S : YANDERE, MURDER MENTIONED, POSSESSIVE, WEED

Marcos Delmont is the kinda guy your parents told you to stay away from, but you just can't help yourself.

6'2 and growing, he's not as big as his older brothers but he's still nothing to play with.

Possessive yandere give him all your love and everything will be smooth sailing.

Loves metal music.

Can play the guitar but rarely gets to.

Pierced his own ears in the kitchen one night cuz Manny bet he wouldn't.

Low-key a fashionista, no matter where he is he makes sure to look as good as possible.

Has a secret handshake with his twin.

He loves horror and thinks it's a romance genera.

When he smiles for real his eyes crinkle and the cutest dimple pops out on his left cheek.

Please wear his clothes.

Likes to take pictures of you, especially if you don't know he's there.

Bisexual and the last person to give him any shit about it ended up splattered all over the wall.

Sadistic in the way where he'll tease you until tears bead in your lashes just to kiss them away, he thinks you look so pretty when you cry for him.

But make no mistake, he's the only one allowed to make you cry. Anyone else who does is a problem. And he has a very permanent solution to those.

Has a warehouse in the dingiest part of town that's his little safe haven, this is where he likes to take his 'problems' has a drain in the floor for better clean up.

Killed the earliest out of all his brothers.

Also the best at it? Had a phase where he watched nothing but true crime just to learn what not to do.

Smells like good cologne and faintly of weed.

Has smoked the devils lettuce since he was a teenager and even has a side hustle where he sells it, no one besides Manny knows this, he's saving up to get away from his Father's iron grip.

It's not for moral reasons, he just has a problem with authority and taking orders for the rest of his life didn't fly with him.

Walks around like he knows he's the finest mf in the room.

Seems unshakable but between you and me he has days where all he does is lock himself in his room, bump mitski, and cry about the child he never got to be.

Huuuge fuckboy which is so ironic because all he wants is true, unrestricted, unconditional love, but he's terrified of letting anyone close enough to get it.

Bit of a pyro, loves how flames can be so beautiful and destructive at the same time.

Once lit a trash can on fire just to get his twin outta trouble.

Masochistic tendencies.

Kinda guy to smile like a psycho when someone tries to fight him because now he has an excuse to be violent.

Their last name carries serious weight in his town and he uses it to it's full advantage.

Since he's one of the youngest he's kinda spoilt, when he doesn't get his way immediately he will pitch a fit, someone usually ends up dead.

He and Manny have that weird twin telepathy.

Loves spicy food, it's the only thing he can make.

Knows how to ride a skateboard, before he could drive it's how he got around.

His reputation around campus was the guy you went to for the best bud, and if you wanted to get your back blown out no strings.

Tells people not to fall for him and they think he's being cocky, which to be fair he absolutely is, but it's also a valid warning.

Likes how people get addicted to him.

Never really felt all that bad when he broke hearts.

Then he meets you.

See before you He'd fool around with a guy and a girl in the same friend group and never have either find out, unless he was feeling particularly bored that day, then he'd tell them, but deliver it in such a 'heartfelt' and 'genuine' way they'd leave feeling sorry for upsetting him.

That all goes to say, he has an intimidating reputation by freshman year in college, but with the way your year had been, you deserved a good bake sesh to relax, so one day you muscled up the courage and took the plunge, unknowingly sealing your fate.

When he meets you, everything changes for him. You shyly pull him aside at the party of some asshole he can't remember, the girl he'd been chatting up literally tossed aside as he gave you his full attention. He'd seen you around campus before, darting between your friends and classes like a little bunny on a mission. The thought had him laser focused, what could such a sweet thing want with the schools big bad wolf?

"Hey Marcos right? I'm (Y/n). From science?" You stuck out your hand to shake his in what he could only describe as an adorable display of dork. He returned the gesture snd tried not to visibly jump at the jolt of electricity that ran up his arm the second he made contact with your soft skin.

"Hello (Y/n) from science." He took a purposeful sip of his cup, tongue flicking over the bottoms of his teeth, "What God do I gotta' thank for getting you to finally talk to me?" He could tell the laugh you gave was real and all of a sudden that's all he wanted to do, be the reason you made such pretty sounds.

"I heard you have good bud? Am I saying that right? I swear I'm not a narc I'm just poorly socialized." This time he genuinely laughed, the unfamiliar feeling blooming in his core- it scared him, terrified him in how fast he became addicted to it. "I think you're nailing it personally- here let's go upstairs I know just the thing to help." He made a big show of bowing for your hand which pulled more flustered giggles from you.

You moved to gently place your hand in his before hesitating. "This isn't gonna' cut to you 'Michael Myersing' me right?" He could see the actual worry hidden behind the humor you used and then and there something in him shifted, he usually took both delight and active participation in others despair, but that fearful look in your eye when you asked, didn't sit well within him all at, he dropped his hand to put down his drink at the closest counter, then quickly pulled out his phone before gesturing for you to do the same, and flipped it around to show an older womans smiling face.

"This is my mom's number- I do anything you don't like or say something particularly stupid, you can call her and tell her I'm up to no good which would in fact be signing my death certificate." You stared at him in disbelief before adding the number to speed dial, "Okay- lead the way." You nodded in the direction of the stairs pulling the grin back to his lips. He gently threaded his fingers with your own and all at once he understood why his Father's personality shifted in front of his Mother the way it did- why he softened for her.

First time he spends the night at your place he just assumes you wanna get down and dirty because he's never not fucked after being invited over, but then you're like 'no I actually just wanted to cuddle and talk, tell me about your day :)" he can tell your actually interested and it makes him feel all sorts of things, he's used to people wanting him for his body, so when you hold him against your chest he starts bawling.

He's never truly felt held, not like that, tells you he loves you that night.

"I'm not some bitch made guy who's gonna wait till' you say because that's what I'm "supposed" to do- I know what I feel, I know I love you."

Whines when you leave the bed, even if you're just going to pee he's waiting for you when you get back.

Likes the intimacy of bathing with you, not even sexy times, just being there in such a vulnerable state.

When he rolls up better believe you're in his lap, he claims his blunts come out prettier when he's looking at you.

Love languages are quality time, gift giving, and physical touch.

He's low-key insatiable when it comes to you, half of him feels immensely guilty he had partners before you and the other half is proud because those experiences made him know his way around the bedroom.

[yunoteru4ever]

Musing about the forbidden appeal of stalkers and how Mirai Nikki's framework benefits the overall love story

Something I think is unspoken about the appeal of... oh, let's politely say off-kilter *cough* love stories such as the one at the center of Future Diary is that, for many people, the idea of having a stalker can sound... appealing? Romantic, even?

Let me explain what I mean in more detail: If you've never truly experienced the horror/stress of having a stalker? The idea of someone choosing YOU to fixate upon as the object of their unyielding love/lust can actually sound pretty nice, in concept. Hell — even moreso if you've never had anyone openly and proudly declare their love for you. The notion of having a stalker can feel VALIDATING, even! The less luck you have in love, the more that discovering you have your own stalker can sound like a weird, wonderful fantasy. Or, shit... even if you're doing just fine in the dating/romance department, imagining someone harboring an undying obsession/devotion can still feel like a massive ego boost.

My point is: When dealing with a stalker is only a distant, abstract and purely theoretical concept, the "horror" side of it can easily fade into the far background. So yeah, I think there's a certain Forbidden Appeal to stalker-romances for many, despite the inherent darkness and danger that could/should logically come with such a thing. (Especially in RL, of course.)

In that context, the way Mirai Nikki's central love story is presented and framed is especially genius. And I say that for two primary reasons:

First reason — Mirai Nikki taps into that Forbidden Appeal partly by giving Yuno an increasingly sympathetic portrayal, but importantly also by placing this unhinged stalker character into a framework where her biggest downsides become comprehensible or even beneficial. Sure, Yuno seems to have a taste for violence and blood, but she's trapped in a goddamn Killing Game where both her own life and the fate of the fucking world is at stake. Furthermore, we later learn there's a ticking clock element that demands the "game" crown a victor ASAP. Against this background, Yuno's violence and darkness becomes, at worst, a bit of evil that's also handily beneficial. And at best? Her behavior becomes totally understandable due to contextual morality. (Besides, it also provides us with a reason to exploit yet another off-kilter romantic concept that can hold a dark appeal for some: the "willing to kill for you"-level love.)

Second reason — Yet in spite of what I just said, Future Diary doesn't shy away (...much*) from the threat inherent to having someone develop an unhealthy obsession with another. Yuno isn't some harmlessly funny sitcom stalker, nor is she the kind of stalker who the narrative fails to ever acknowledge as such in order preserve the "purity" of the central relationship's appeal. Yuki recognizes her as an obsessive stalker from the very beginning! There's no denying that she's violent and clearly dangerous! The fact that she's mentally unstable and therefore seems unpredictable is absolutely core to her character! The story is utterly up-front about these things... and it never lets us forget that, for all that we may feel bad for her or understand her actions, she's still a threat/potential threat to EVERYBODY around her.

Long after it's clear that the bizarre situation makes Yuno's worst traits much more positive, there are still MANY instances when the narrative reminds us of just how much of an unpredictable threat she is to even her supposed allies.

However...

*...I added that "(...much*)" caveat because there are some rare exceptions . A signature aspect of every Sakae Esuno story to date is the way he delights in swerving from the primary horror/suspense/action focus over to sudden bursts of comedy. For that reason, Mirai Nikki is definitely guilty of playing Yuno's stalking as mere 'wacky hijinx' on select occasions — for better or worse. For me, these sudden breaks in the tension are quirky and delightful, but I can understand if individual mileage varies.

All of this is really just me thinking out loud about why the portrayal of such a clearly "problematic" relationship works so well for me and many others. It isn't afraid to confront the inherent problems, but it also provides a (totally unrealistic) framework in which the problems are more tolerable, maybe even acceptable. It makes the stalker sympathetic via the gradual reveal of her backstory, but it also never lets us forget that's she's legit dangerous. And it does all of this while showing us a twisted relationship that might already be oddly appealing to some members of the audience.

Besides, look — Esuno knows this is pretty "out there" stuff. He was once asked if he'd want to date someone like Yuno himself. In that interview, he laughed before replying, "It's probably best we keep that kind of relationship in the realm of fiction." So it's not like he's legitimately recommending that anyone go out and date a crazed stalker. That's part of why the framework has to be SO extreme and SO fantastical for it work so well, IMO.

[theshandora]

EVERYTHING THAT'S WRONG WITH TOKYO GHOUL

Welcome to my series

EVERYTHING THAT'S WRONG WITH TOKYO GHOUL

where I just bitch about Ishida's choices and decisions.

First things first: to me manga kinda went shit after Arima's death. Like I honestly thought the whole One-eyed King thing could be played off nicely and that Eto and Arima will give Kaneki something to work with. But yeah... nevermind, he had to handle everything himself.

Now let's review some of the problematic points in the story:

- The whole island 'extermination of Aogiri Tree' operation. It honestly seemed like the Aogiri Tree which was feared by the CCG for the rest of the manga just fell apart like a house of cards. Why did Tsukiyama and other 20th ward ghouls appeared there to help them in the first place? Like, that turn of events was never clarified. 

- Touka's character in :re. Fuck you, Ishida. She wasn't my favorite in the first book, but I acknowledged her strength, her violent tendencies due to her childhood trauma and her desire to do better. And in :re all of a sudden she becomes this soft girl with a beautiful smile which does not appear in most of it and only enters again when Ishida decides that he has to force some romantic line for the main character. There is zero chemistry between Kaneki and Touka throughout the entire manga. It is pretty obvious from the start that Ishida wanted them to have some kind of romance, but he never followed through. Like, they don't see each other after Owl Eradication Op and then within a couple of chapters in :re they go from renewed friends to lovers to having a child and getting married? Nobody can convince that this is any kind of slowburn. That's a forced lazy arc. Besides... A CHILD???? "Fucckkking kidding". You are in the middle of the biggest crisis that ghoul society has ever faced. The ghouls rescued by the Goat are starving, Tokyo is filled with Furuta's Oggai army. Kaneki is traumatized (as always), overwhelmed with responsibility and trying his best to be the man that Arima believed him to be. SO YEAH, A PERFECT TIMING TO HAVE A CHILD. And there is not one panel where Kaneki questions if it is worth to bring a new life to this fucked up world. Yeah, Ishida, fuck you.  

Okay, now I know some of you will think that I just don't like a straight ship. So let's get it out of the way straight away:

- Kaneki didn't need a romantic line. At least it should have never gotten to the point of marriage and kids. It should have been a romantic interest at most. I hate the ending of the Hunger Games for the same reason. Katniss Everdeen having a bunch of kids and being a happy mom? Yeah, fuck that. - The only valid romantic line in this manga is Amon/Akira. They must be protected at all cost. And of course Ishida does not even bother to show them in the last chapter, lol. - I don't ship Kaneki with Hide. Their friendship is precious, and it makes me sad that people can't be friends without being romantisized (Johnlock stans, I am talking to you). - Shuneki. That's a tough one because I believe that Tsukiyama at some point did develop feelings towards Kaneki, but let's be honest it's not mutual.

Which brings me to the next point:

- TSUKIYAMA WAS DONE DIRTY. He deserved THE WORLD. I can't even find words to describe how unfair his character was treated. In the first book when he is first introduced his character is pretty flat. Yeah, he has charm, he's problematic and obsessive, and randomly inserts French words into the conversation. I know many people liked him even at that point, but let's face it: his character gains his true depth and meaning in :re. After everything we learn about his family and his relationship with Karren, Chie and the servants I don't know how can anyone not love him. The influence Kaneki's death has on his character development is enormous. First of all, it was such a strong moment when he decides that it is not his place to bring Kaneki's memory back? You can see how much struggle was there in his head. He recognized that he could have been wrong in the past, that Haise might be happier than Kaneki, and also he puts his family above his desires. Imagine: we went from Shu trying to have Kaneki to himself no matter the cost to Shu thinking that Kaneki is better off being Haise so that he doesn't learn about all the suffering and loss he went through. THIS WAS SO GOOD.

Now, the fact that even after regaining his memory Kaneki throws him off the roof is a bit controversial but understandable. After all, they weren't on the best terms, Ken didn't completely trust him in the past. Moreover, he never got to learn how much Shu suffered and how much he grew emotionally. And last but not least, I like to believe that he really hoped that Shu will survive the fall. I still see this part as a bit problematic because Kaneki would literally die for any member of the squad before, but at the same time I just feel sorry that he got himself in this situation in the first place. Being confused, not having his memories, wondering whether he should hold on to being an investigator - that was too much.

Okay, I got a little carried away. This is all great, but my point in this was how Tsukiyama was treated later when he was part of the Goat. Like the man literally forgave you, never doubted you once, did everything you expected of him and more and Kaneki never thanked him once. NOT ONCE. They never even had a conversation which concerned anything outside their goal. It honestly looked like Kaneki finally realized he can trust Shu with his life, so he just used him. This was so painful to watch. Ken literally never recognized how big of a part Tsukiyama played in him being the One-eyed King. This just makes me angry. And also Shu's non-existent reaction to Kaneki being married to Touka????

I don't even know what to say about Ishida creating that panel with Tsukiyama saying he just wishes to see Ken happy JUST TO END IT WITH A SICK COMMENT ABOUT TASTING THEIR CHILD???!??!?!? Ishida, why?

To summarize: Tsukiyama is a beautiful precious flower who did not deserve to be Kaneki's unappreciated errand boy. My soul was aching everytime he adressed him as "My King".

That's all I have to say in this post. This fandom is probably dead anyways, but I felt like screaming into the void.

[bryony-rebb]

...Snippet Sunday, anyone? (Haha, you can always tell when I’ve run into a wall and start craving validation, because suddenly it’s all snippet posts! and ask memes! and ‘oh won’t you PLEASE be friends with me?‘!) Anyway this is not actually Frozen Teardrop compliant, and I still don’t know enough about FT to be compliant with it even if I wanted to; but I’m peripherally aware Treize has this dead brother, and had the timelines lined up for it I thought this would have been a fun use for him. Like, if you’re going to commit identity fraud.......

===

In AC182, he is still only six. He is father's son: a prince. Milliardo Peacecraft.

He is held by the collar of his coat by a horrible man, an Alliance man, whose enormous hand keeps him pinned in place.

In front of him, stands Treize. Not an adult, but when one is young enough nearly everyone else appears grown up by comparison. And Treize is tall, taller even than the grown woman standing beside him; tall and lean and impeccably polished, clothes perfectly tailored and not a hair out of place. The look in his eyes is perfectly controlled.

In contrast, the woman at his side looks positively deranged.

"Sweet boy," she murmurs, stepping forward and bending down to cup Milliardo's face. Matted tangles of hair swing down with her. He can see the sheen of oil on her skin, smell the unwashed musk whiffing from beneath her clothes with each small movement. "Poor, sweet boy." When she kisses his cheek, her breath is awful. Like a corpse.

And yet it's Treize, whose name he doesn't even know, whose presence commands his attention, whose impression lingers. Looking past the corpse woman, he sees him watching them, his expression measured and unreadable. Sunlight glinting off his hair gives him a copper halo. His eyes are very blue.

"Treize -- a word," says the horrible man who brought him here. That is it: the moment of their introduction.

"Of course, uncle. Shall we go in?"

Milliardo is frog-marched into the house. He squirms rebelliously and receives a violent shake for his troubles. Ahead of him, the odd woman drifts down the hall, ghostlike in her long, filmy nightdress, until she disappears.

Angeline, he later learns. Treize's mother.

Treize leads the rest of them to a comfortable sitting room at the back of the house, where windows overlook a wide lawn running down to a lake choked with cattails. A fire burns in the hearth and the first ice of winter clings to the lake's shore. Treize seats himself on a low sofa, at his ease, one arm draped over the sofa's back, an ankle hooked over his knee.

"Sit," the Alliance man tells Milliardo, like a dog; so Milliardo bares his teeth and snarls like one. The Alliance man gives him a single quick cuff upside the head and bears inexorably down on Milliardo's shoulder until he is kneeling on the floor.

Treize takes this in without comment, then listens to his uncle talk.

Impotent fury keeps sparking behind Milliardo's eyes, distracting him, but he sits up straight and pays attention when Treize, the minute after his uncle finishes speaking, calmly looks him in the eye and tells him, "No."

This is unprecedented.

Milliardo knows himself for a willful boy. He has, in his time, been known to argue back with the adults in his life and put on displays of defiance. But never with such aplomb. Always, with him, it has been a futile effort, doomed to overrule. When Treize says it, as an adult to an adult, there is little doubt but that he will have his way.

Somehow, despite being the child, there is no doubt that Treize is the one with authority here.

"Treize," says the horrible man impatiently, "be reasonable. The boy needs papers. He needs an identity. There is one here waiting for him; no one else outside these walls knows Vingt is dead-"

"Uncle Chilias, I understand your reasoning perfectly. The answer remains unchanged. This boy-" he glances at Milliardo "-will not assume my brother's name."

"Damn it, Treize, how else do you think these things are done? You can’t just conjure up a false identity from the aether and expect it to stand up to scrutiny. God's sake, with that blond hair he even looks the part!"

It's him. They're talking about him.

They're talking about him as if he isn't even here.

They're talking about turning him into someone else.

"You're a colonel in the Alliance army, uncle. I have no doubt you can find another way to get him papers."

"If this is about your mother-"

"It's of no matter what it is 'about,'" Treize smoothly interrupts, waving a hand in casual dismissal. He wields his authority from the sofa as easily as Milliardo's father did from a throne. "Now I'll thank you to stop asking; the boy may stay here as agreed, but that is as far as it goes."

The exchange as good as cements Treize's idol status to the six-year-old boy watching: what he wouldn't give in that moment for Treize's power of command. Then he would tell them.

He is Milliardo Peacecraft of the Cinq Kingdom. He always will be.

They can't change that.

No one can.

[allyecrivaine]

need to vent so badly below the cut,, btw open 2 comments and dialogue if anyone relates or even just has a thing to say

ok this is so much, but basically I just broke up with my boyfriend of 3 1/2 years and I’ve been struggling so hard and I feel like it’s for the wrong reasons

All my life I’ve struggled with a suffocating need for male validation and I really can’t understand why, and I thought that now that I’m older I would be beyond that,, but I am right back to where I was YEARS ago

i’ve been talking to somebody new who i can’t even tell if he’s like a FWB situation or if he wants a relationship eventually or WHAT, and our whole relationship rn is over text because we met online. and i want to be the cool girl so bad,, i wanna be the girl who couldn’t care less if he talks to me all day or not at all. i wanna b the girl who isn’t scared of being ghosted

but oh boy i am scared of him ghosting me!! and i have no idea what he wants and i feel like it’s not “cool” of me to ask. and i’m just right back to square one where i hypersexualize myself with this man so that he gives me attention and then when he’s literally just BUSY and not texting me i internally go insane and want to kms

and it’s like . i can SEE from a different perspective. i can see how stupid this all is and what a waste of time it is to worry over shit like that but i am so far from healed and i didn’t even know it

dating now is so hard and my ex really was a catch but we just grew apart. but every man i meet i’m scared of. and i’m scared of growing closer because yanno what if he’s disloyal or he’s mean or violent? there are so many distinct possibilities and i can’t see a way out of that way of thinking

i don’t even know why i’m already talking to this person and i know i need time to heal but i hate being alone. and my stupid idiotic craving for male attention won me over again and now i’m in this loop of getting a rush when he texts me after work at 7pm, then getting extremely depressed when he goes to bed, then waiting and watching my phone alllll day hoping he’ll text me about something besides wanting pictures of me

and i’m in a new state and i’m so alone here and the friends i’ve made are few and far between and not rly organic friends. so i have no one here to go out with me or even just sit at a stupid dinner table with me and talk about things. i barely even talk to my best friends and at this point in my life i don’t even have internet friends. i just feel so lost and i’m the most alone i have ever been and i don’t even know where to turn.

i know j should cut that new guy off for my own sake but i can’t help but think “oh what if you cut him off but he was meant for you” kmssss

[sparklingpax]

Tales From Iacon - Part 5: The End of the World

A/N:

-Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

-HOLY CRACKERS ITS BEEN OVER A YEAR IM SO SORRY LMFAOO

-help what--no actually why is the plot of this chapter sdjdsjsdj yes its silly please dont laugh at meeee o////o

-yes by the way. despite the very long gaps between chapters, this series is definitely ongoing, I do have plans for future chapters I just....have to write them........... :'D

-BRUH this one is so long, I'm sorry, I'm bad at making things like. Not Drawn Out lmao--

-If you haven't read the other parts, and just as a reminder, this and all future chapters are set in the aligned continuity (tfp) oh and also! this is the first time ratchet meets megatronus; a bit anticlimactic maybe, but I thought it would be better to just have them meet sorta by coincidence. I do like the idea the three of them are friends, perhaps another reason why Ratchet is so resentful and bitter of Megatron later...anyways.

-at the end of the day, this and all the things I write are just for fun. If you think it's garbage or you just don't like it, that's valid...just scroll on by please ;w;

-ummmmmmm I really don't have anything else to add other than to have mercy on me with typos and the like, I'll edit them as I reread at later dates. and I hope you enjoy! :D

///

One fine evening—early morning, really—Megatronus received the worst news anyone could receive at such an ungodly hour.

Megatronus had passed out on his berth, having a much-needed rest for his sore, battered body after a particularly trying match against twin, rogue Insecticon prisoners.

About maybe an hour earlier, the huge mech had stumbled exhaustedly into his room and flopped down on the bed, huffing a relieved sigh as he felt the throbbing in all his limbs begin to dissipate.

Within moments, he’d fallen asleep.

His arm hung off the berthside, fingertips gently grazing the edge of his immobile, silent holopad. Everything was, for this one time, so still and peaceful.

So, when the device went off with a sudden and violent buzzing, Megatronus was instantly jerked awake—ripped from a calm rest in the realm of absolute nothingness, not even a dream.

His arm shot away from the floor, coming to rest uneasily on the bed with the rest of him.

Since the room had no light source, if the lights were off, it was pitch black inside. This little holopad had by itself, lit up the entire room, painting it with a decidedly eerie, turquoise light.

For a few moments, his optics blearily fixated on the object—glowing electric blue, emitting a frustratingly repetitive buzzing noise, and vibrating.

Vaguely, he recalled sending Orion a message about this to ask if he could turn that feature off.

And after Orion had in fact, explained this process...Megatronus had forgotten entirely, and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Of course, now he was being reminded of what had annoyed him enough to even ask about it in the first place.

Tomorrow. I’ll fix that infernal beeping tomorrow.

Still only half-awake, the large mech remained still, simply continuing to stare at the holopad. He felt a twinge of annoyance as exhaustion quickly crept back into him, as his whole body was taking a moment to remind him how tired and sore he was.  

Frag it—who the scrap is calling me at…

He squinted at the screen to see the time, printed in a neat, short, white font.  

“—3 in the morning?!”

He groaned, rubbing his face and hefting himself off the bed.

It would keep ringing if he didn’t do something about it. Like take the call.

“Primus give me patience,” he muttered as he picked it up…a little too late.  

Or, I could have waited for the damned thing to quiet itself. He’d forgotten that was a thing, too.

He watched as the screen went dark again for a couple moments, then lit up to read “missed call.”

Megatronus registered the profile picture and the name written beside it.

Orion?

Okay, so it was either important and life-changing, or something very strange.

Megatronus thought for a moment, feeling a bit more awake as he considered the possibility of something terrible soon to take place—or perhaps something unexpected in general.

That piqued his interest some.

Now I must know what he’d wanted at an hour like this.

The device started to buzz again.

Megatronus glared at it.

I’d like a round in the pits with the guy who designed this sound.

It had a particular way it bothered his audio receptors.

He sighed and tapped the ‘pick up’ button. Then, dropping it beside himself and lying back in his bed, the gladiator chuckled a little as he started speaking. The device darkened its screen again, leaving Megatronus to eye the darkness of his room once again.

“By the Primes, Orion—it’s 3 in the—”

“Megatronus.”

Instantly, he stopped, unnerved by the solemnity of his friend’s whispery tone.

His eyes searched the dark nothingness of his room as he waited in silence for whatever his friend was about to say. 

“What I am about to say, you may not believe….but it is something that could affect all of Cybertron…something of great magnitude—something…very dire…”

“Is…is that so?”

He felt uneasiness begin to well up from the pits of his stomach. The thought of this being a joke flashed through his processor before he reminded himself this was Orion making this call.  

He happens to be a terrible liar. I would know if he was messing with me.

Orion exhaled shakily over the call, filling the silence.

Megatronus tensed and slowly sat up, hearing the crackly sound of paper being unfurled from his device.

His confusion deepened, but interest locked his jaw shut as he waited.

Then at last, Orion told him.

“Megatronus, I—I found….a prophecy—a scroll. In it, the writing states…” A sharp rustling noise sounded from the holopad, “…it—it said our world will crumble away to…to nothing on the next full moon—the smaller one.”

Megatronus had…no idea when the full moons were to happen.

He did know, however, what “crumble away to nothing,” meant, and felt an apprehensive worry start to stiffen his body, turning over the revelation in his mind as Orion spoke more about the scroll.

“And…the time in simpler terms would be?”

A long pause, as if the archivist did not want to reply. 

“…I-In…two days.”

Megatronus was suddenly not as tired and sore as before.

///

The sun was shining very brightly in the sky, causing all the shinier structures and objects in sight—built from their reflective metals—to glint and shimmer. On a day as bright as this, it was like the streets of Iacon city, and all its things, became as jewels.

Yet such beautiful sights were not so eye-catching to Orion Pax today.

Instead, he had his optics trained on the ground below his feet. His figure was slumped over and seated on a lone park bench, head leaning on his palm. He tapped his foot to no particular rhythm, but more as an anxious motion to keep his mind at bay.

The buildings and the nature around him were only more distressing, actually, for Orion could only think about the immenant end of it all….set to happen a mere two days from the present, and counting.

He checked his holopad again, seeing the time and sharply sighing.

He’s late again…ohhh, we must do this today or never!! Come on, Megatronus, come on…

Footfalls directly behind Orion caused him to shoot upright and turn with a hopeful gaze—

“There you are!” He exclaimed.

Megatronus came around and took his seat, apologizing for the wait.

“Kaon is a long way, and bypassing the security is no easy feat…” he paused, “Though doable all the same.” He flashed his friend a confident smile, but it faltered when he realized Orion had gone back to staring at the ground in thought.  

Now is not the time for jokes, He reminded himself, trying to sober up. End of the world. Destruction. Right.  

Megatronus found his optics wandering from one bot to the next as they bustled by. He was used to this kind of silence, as the two often met in this park to talk, or to simply share each other’s company to contemplate things.

After a few moments of silence amidst the noise, Orion at last spoke up. His words were brisk.  

“I’ll take you to the Hall of Records and show you the scroll. While there, we must gather resources, find a means of escape, and craft a message to send to all the cities of Cybertron—”

Megatronus turned sharply at the last part.

“All of Cybertron?!”

“Yes, Megatronus!” Orion sounded as if it had been obvious. “We can’t just—”

“But—all its citizens, in all its cities?” He interjected. “Orion, it’s not possible!”

“Says who?”

“Logic!!”

“Logic is not the answer all the time, Megatronus!” Now, he was getting annoyed.

“No, Orion—” Megatronus found himself getting frustrated as well. “Be realistic!”

“I’m being realistic, and fair,” Orion fired back, leaning a little closer.

Now he really was upset. Megatronus grimaced.

“What other heartless arguments have you, Megatronus? You want to leave this planet alone and let everyone else just…die?!”

Megatronus felt his blood start to simmer.

Heartless? He was anything but heartless. The gladiator took a deep offense to that.

If there was anything he knew, it was what it felt like to be brushed off—as the “others” to be trampled on, overlooked, forgotten…left for scrap.

But he also remembered that it would be impractical to fight with Orion at this moment—more specifically, it would be a waste of time in the face of this great danger.

Orion….for all your book-smarts, you can be a fool all the same. You must be aware you can’t save everyone…or do ideals build for you kingdoms in the sky that you trust as reality?

“Perhaps…I am not seeing things from your perspective,” he yielded, in a quieter voice.

“That’s what I thought,” Orion snapped, then drew back and stood up. “Let’s go, Megatronus. There’s no time.”

Calmly, the burgundy-silver mech stood up and eyed his friend with an odd kind of gaze.

“I thought I’d have to tell you that,” he said.

Instantly Orion opened his mouth to respond, then realized his own mistake. Instead of owning up to anything, however, he huffed and turned on his heel, starting down the smooth sidewalk.

Megatronus watched him for a moment, feeling a little triumphant.

The world as we know it ends in two days…there really is no time.

He strode after Orion.

///

 “The fools are the ones with knowledge, and the fools are the ones without it….in essence, my friends…”

Ratchet turned the page.

“…we are all fools. Fools convinced of knowledge and science, but fools all the same in the greater scheme of things. We will never know it all…so let us resign ourselves to that fate, and strive to learn all we can.”

Ratchet stared at the last few words and let them sink in, trying to understand on an abstract level what it all meant. They were the final words for a novel he’d elected to read and write a report on for one of his university classes.

Yes, he was studying medicine and science and all that, but philosophy and studies on the mind and life couldn’t possibly hurt. In fact, Ratchet was convinced that he could only add more to the things he knew—the more to think on, the merrier.

His gaze lingered for a moment more on the final page, then he shut the book gently. Folding his servos, he let them rest lightly upon the sturdy, leather cover.

Wind swayed the leaves above him, so he let his head tilt back to stare at them, as if it was also moved by the breeze. 

Fools in this universe, huh?

Ratchet let his eyes close.

Perhaps now he would be able to finally catch up on the hours of sleep he’d missed with his late-night cramming nearly every night of this week….

“All of Cybertron?!”

Ratchet snapped forward at the loud voice, instantly annoyed.

Who the scrap is yelling and disturbing the peace of this park—

“Orion, it’s not possible!”

“Says who?!”

“Logic!!”

Ratchet made a face, realizing he knew those voices.

“Logic is not the answer all the time, Megatronus!”

Turning slowly, Ratchet found he was indeed correct. He watched as Orion and Megatronus heatedly conversed for a few more minutes, then stood up to leave. Orion stiffly marched out, Megatronus had remained standing for a moment before following at a quicker pace.

The two of them had been visibly annoyed with one another, he noted, only Megatronus seemed to be doing a better job of hiding it.

And that was as expected—Orion was known to wear his spark on the outside, so to speak. His emotions were upfront and clear most of the time.

Or at least, that’s how almost anyone who knew the mech would describe him.

“Orion,” Ratchet muttered, watching them finally fade into the crowds outside the park grounds. “What on Cybertron are you up to with that gladiator friend of yours?”

He sighed, rising from the bench and gathering his things.  

Yes, he more wanted to sit in the park and continue enjoying his free afternoon.

No, Ratchet had no worries about anyone’s safety.

But something in his spark tugged on him, urging him to follow them. Plus, Ratchet was a curious bot. He had to know what was up.

He made his way out of the park on the same path Orion and his friend had left.

It couldn’t possibly be something minor if it involved ‘all of Cybertron,’ after all.

///

“It’s back here,” Orion said, taking a left and heading into a side room.

Megatronus squinted with some effort and followed Orion into it, as the blue luminescence of huge computer screens and shelves upon shelves of active tablets was left behind them.

The room ahead was almost pitch black, for nothing in that room was alive but himself and his friend. After a few moments, his optics adjusted to the room, and he began to see the shapes of the room’s contents.

Megatronus found it interesting that there were so many physical documents left after all this time and modernization.

It was assumed most everything was coded and left on holopads these days; transcribed, moved to a digital form, archived on a device of some kind, and yet…what seemed to be hundreds of scrolls—and even stone artifacts, he noticed—lay before Megatronus.

He looked from left to right with every step forward, silently and in awe.

Orion previously explained that there had always been means for these things to be written in digital form, yet there was no real reason why these documents were not.

It was thus theorized by elder scholars that the authors of the stories and accounts had simply not had said tools at their disposal in those moments, and decided to note their experiences and observations with whatever they could. Either that, or for unexplained reasons, had chosen physical documentation over digital.

Up ahead, Megatronus could make out a small desk and chair, and heard Orion’s footsteps speed up as he made his way to it.

Well, as an aspiring archivist, he must know his way around without the lights. No wonder he walks ahead with such ease…

A sharp click sounded.

Very suddenly, everything was visible. Megatronus uttered a small noise and squinted again, this time slightly in pain. He had just gotten used to the darker lighting but…oh well.

“Now, we’ve got to put together our transmission message,” Orion started almost immediately.

Megatronus watched him begin the speedy ‘cleanup’ of his messy desk—shoving things in drawers, moving the stray papers into piles and crushing them into an open science textbook. A few things clattered accidentally off the reddish wood, while others plummeted off the surface quite intentionally.

It is somehow…cute to watch him scurry about like this.

Orion eyed some papers tacked to his wall, then removed and relegated them to the floor as well.

“I see you keep a tidy workspace,” Megatronus observed with an innocent tone.

Orion threw him a look, but the larger mech could see the suppressed edges of a smile before Orion turned back to his desk and began opening files on his computer.

After a couple moments of quiet except for the typing, Orion motioned for Megatronus to come closer so he could help out. It was then that he noticed one paper had been left on the archivists’ desk, rolled shut.

Staring at it, he asked, “Does this paper tell us of our doom?”

Orion nodded, beginning to type out what was probably his evacuation plea—or a draft of it, at least. So Megatronus carefully picked it up and turned it over in his servos, handling it with as much care as he could.

Then, he opened it.

What he found, however, was not a terrifying prophecy. What he found was—

“Orion, what the scrap is this?” He muttered, holding it closer and squinting at it. He let it roll shut again and placed it on the desk. “It’s all meaningless scribbles! And you mean to tell me you got ‘the world ends soon’ from it?”

“It does say that,” Orion muttered back, continuing to type. “That’s old Cybertronian.”

Megatronus blinked. He didn’t even know there was an ‘old Cybertronian.’ 

“Which I can read…” Orion finally stopped typing, seeming to realize something. “Or, well, that’s to say…”

The gladiator raised an eyebrow. He didn’t like the sound of that unease in his friend’s voice. He was about to ask another question when the two of them heard someone was coming down the hall.  

And sure enough, someone Megatronus had never seen before poked his head through the doorway.

“Ratchet!” Orion exclaimed, perking up and waving. For a moment, Megatronus observed, all the apprehension had seemed to disappear.  

Megatronus frowned in thought, watching the mech pick his way through the piles of scrolls until he was next to Orion’s desk. Finally, it hit him, where he’d heard that name before.

“And you are…the medical student?”

Ratchet broke off what he’d started saying to Orion and looked him up and down. He then nodded.

“And you must be Megatronus, the…warrior from Kaon,” he returned looking very serious.

“Gladiator. Though I enjoy the title of ‘warrior.’”

“Right.”

There was a short pause.

“Though I am by law not allowed in these streets, I’ve found the law to be quite shabby at their job of keeping those like myself…out.”

“Seems these days we’re all figuring something out about our…illustrious leaders, and their idea of a functional society,” Ratchet said sarcastically.

Orion leaned back in his chair to look at them both, worrying they might be sizing each other up or something.

Then, Ratchet grinned.

“Well, Megatronus, I don’t have my degree yet, but if you’ve anything you’d like me to take a look at…” He offered, extending his servo.

Megatronus chuckled, and shook it firmly.  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve only heard your name from Orion, after all.”

“Same here.”  

Thank the Allspark, no hostility.

Orion sighed quietly, then got back to work.

He’d let Megatronus get to know Ratchet a little better rather than demand any more of this focus for this. Besides, Orion wanted to write the transmission himself.

He scanned the place he’d left off, his second paragraph, reading it off in his mind to get back into the writing flow.

‘Though it may seem hard to believe,’ he typed, ‘I can assure you that this is a very real threat. One that I believe we must heed. Fellow Cybertronians, we must remember that our race is one of change. Moving homes is a large leap, but it will be necessary—’  

“‘—if we are to survive what our elders have warned’…” Ratchet’s voice startled Orion, quickly realizing he and Megatronus had quietly moved to watch over the archivist’s shoulder as he was writing. Finishing that sentence, he stopped again, having lost concentration once more.

He turned to request that Ratchet not read over his shoulder like that, and then to ask what Megatronus thought of the announcement so far, but Ratchet spoke first.

“Orion.”

“Ratchet..?”

Megatronus took a small step back, curious to see what was about to happen.

The university student had an expression on his face that read something of a mix between confusion and amusement. Orion stared back at him with full seriousness.

Ratchet wordlessly leaned closer and scrolled up the screen to read the draft in full, murmuring quietly each word while Orion sat back and began to fiddle with his fingers again.

And then, finally, it seemed Ratchet had read all he needed because when he drew back, he rested his face in his palms for a second, then started laughing.

No, really laughing.

It went on for a little while before the young archivist finally cut in with an inquiry as to what could be so funny. He was starting to look more embarrassed than indignant. Megatronus had no idea what was going on, but was too amused to interrupt.

Funny, if I’d laughed at him again, we might be arguing right now.

“It—it’s—” Ratchet struggled, still laughing. He fell against the wall, trying to compose himself. Orion turned around, rolling his optics and starting to type again before Ratchet finally turned to Megatronus.

“You—you’re aware of this, aren’t you?” He caught sight of the scroll lying on Orion’s desk. It was like he already knew. “And what do you make of it?”

Megatronus shrugged.

“Can’t even read it, ‘old Cybertronian,’ or something. Truth be told, I’m not very adept with reading anyway.”

“Hm. But Orion said he…can?”

Suddenly, the gladiator realized where this was going.

Orion stopped typing again, but didn’t turn around. Meanwhile, Ratchet reached over and picked up the scroll, unraveling it.

“Well, I can,” Ratchet murmured, scanning the text to confirm his suspicions, “and it seems Orion...has misread the entire text completely.”

///

Ratchet finally returned from the shop and handed Megatronus and Orion their respective cups of warmed, sweetened Energon, shaped as crystals for some seasonal event.

Megatronus received his and thanked Ratchet, Orion took his in silence, still not meeting anyone’s gaze. The three of them walked in silence to the edge of the street and stopped.

Then, finally, Megatronus broke the silence, “Oh, Orion, it’s not the end of the world!” He tried a playful jab.

“Indeed. If you’re worried, no one’s upset with you,” Ratchet added, placing a gentle servo on his shoulder. “It’s better that you misread it, actually.”

“Exactly! Our world is safe.”

“No crumbling, no destruction…” Ratchet paused, sighing. Less excitedly, he continued, “And I can finish getting my degree.”

But the archivist merely took a bite out of his treat, optics still trained on the ground, absolutely silent.

As it had turned out, Orion had been reorganizing and archiving the roomful of old physical documents, in place of Alpha Trion (who was attending to an important matter in another city), and he had seen the scrolls in the dark of early morning. Naturally, he’d not slept, and was tired. In addition to that, he didn’t even know old Cybertronian well enough to decipher the entirety of the text, which had stated…this scroll was merely a draft for a story. Orion was self-taught, so he could read some of it, but well...he needed more practice with it.

What he might have done—had he not decided to read its contents and simply file it by the code on the back—would be to place it on the shelf for old texts by famous or unknown authors. Instead, he misinterpreted it to be a real prophecy, spelling out doom, coincidentally falling on their current year.

Thankfully, before he and Megatronus had made fools of themselves by sending an 'overdramatically poetic evacuation notice'—as Ratchet had worded it—Orion's friend had read over the transmission, the scroll, and clarified what was actually written there.

It was then also that Ratchet had finally seen the value of that required class he’d taken his first year of university, learning old Cybertronian. It was boring, but it had finally come in handy.

As one could guess, however, Orion was incredibly embarrassed. It seemed he had no intention to speak for the rest of the day.

Ratchet and Megatronus exchanged looks, then moved closer to their friend. They really didn’t want him to feel bad.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have lost it like that earlier, Ratchet thought, inwardly cringing at the memory of his laughter in the silence of the room. After all, the two had been fully convinced this was a very real threat.

“Orion, you can’t possibly take a vow of silence for life,” Megatronus tried again, in a joking tone. He bent down to look him in the eyes, and finally Orion met his gaze.

And finally, the archivist spoke.

“I…um…” he shifted to the side, as if debating whether to turn away from his friends or remain facing them. “I…apologize for…the confusion I caused.”

“Oh, Orion, it’s not—”

“And the panic. And…” he reached out and touched Megatronus’ shoulder plate. “For snapping at you in the manner I did. Even in a real situation of danger, I must learn not to lose my composure like that, and I must learn on my own, not through hurting my own friends first.”

He dropped his arm again and took another bite of his treat. Megatronus and Ratchet followed suit, and the three shared another moment of quiet thought.

“Hey,” Ratchet prompted, a little awkwardly. “I owe you an apology too. I should’ve handled it with a little less…” he sighed. “I should have been more charitable towards how you were seeing it.”

“And I shouldn’t have joined in,” Megatronus added. “You were probably embarrassed and…had got the point already. In fact, you haven’t much to apologize for, Orion.”  

Orion regarded both Ratchet and then Megatronus before he started down the street again, looking at the sky. His friends followed.

“No, Megatronus, I have things to apologize for. But…” he looked at them again, this time with a smile of his own. “I suppose I see now the humor in it all.”

And the trio shared the rest of the twilight hours together, traipsing the streets of Iacon. At nightfall, they said their goodbyes. Ratchet and Megatronus left together for the city gates, since they were both leaving Iacon. The medical student offered to help get Megatronus past security, and the larger mech accepted with a grin.

Orion watched them go, pleased with how it seemed they had befriended one another. Afterward, he headed back down the path they’d come, deciding along the way that archiving the rest of those scrolls could not be completed unless he was in the right mindset—and that required some much-needed sleep.

As he walked, he continued to look at the sky, at the moon not yet full, chuckling to himself as he remembered just how panicked he’d been only hours ago. But more than embarrassment was relief.

Cybertron will continue to be my home for millennia to come. I will see the faces of my friends and mentors, and have the privilege to gaze upon the wonders of life and the universe for just as long.  

He heard shouting from another street and stopped to watch as a group of similarly shaped bots emerged from a restaurant, shouting and whooping, arms together and surrounding the one in the center, who looked bashful, but happy. As he gazed at them, he noticed each had scratches, chips, and one even had a couple wires hanging from their arm.

Laborers. This must be a communal establishment.

Orion also noticed what looked like a bouncer standing behind the window, arms folded and features grim. The large mech was glaring at them, looking ready to shove them off the street and into the road if they lingered any longer.

The giddy group, however, made their way off and down the street, and the bouncer-looking bot nodded, heading back into the mass of Cybertronians in the building.

Orion continued on his way, still thinking.

Life is not so perfect as one might imagine. Ideals must be relegated to thought, they are not reality. But...rather than worry about finding a new home, we may all continue to work towards peace and equality. Towards a Cybertron where no bar must be “communal” or “private” for one to go in and celebrate something with friends.

There was hope yet for their world, in more ways than one.

And for that, I am truly grateful.

///

I actually hate this chapter help it was more interesting in my head--

[purplesurveys]

1723

What happened last night? Celeste and I were stuck in Pasay after a private exhibit viewing (work-related) because I absolutely refused to traverse EDSA during rush hour on a Monday, so we killed some time by doing work in my car, then we had dinner at this Chinese restaurant where she taught me how to eat xiaolongbao. We killed some more time there then I drove her and myself home, and we had another one of the heart-to-hearts that would usually happen when she and I are together.

Who is the last boy you hugged? I can't remember. It must have been my dad when I bid goodbye to him while dropping him off at the airport.

What was the last thing you thought? How excited I am to see SE SO NEON. I impulsively bought tickets the second I learned they're coming to Manila this November, but it actually stopped feeling so impulse-y when I made the purchase because I genuinely want to see them. It'll be my first indie gig though so I'm kind of nervous...I imagine I'd just be vibing at the very back. I feel like the front would be filled with much younger kids hahah.

What are you thinking about right now? Well, ^ that. Aren't they essentially the same question?

Would you have sex with the last person you sent a message to? No I think she inconvenienced me enough times today for me to ever entertain that thought.

Would you consider yourself spoiled? When we were younger I definitely felt the sense that I was more spoiled compared to my siblings, but it was always being spoiled for a valid reason – in that they'd get me a book I want or a gadget I've been eyeing if my grades were kept high.

These days, my siblings and I are all adults, and we barely get 'spoiled' anymore; it's been our turn to give back, so to speak.

What was the last text you sent? I just sent back a 'thank you too!'

Do you break things when you are mad? Never. I don't get violent when I'm mad because I've seen other people be exactly that when they're angry and I've always hated it.

Whose hoodie did you last wear besides your own? My sister's.

Did something happen today that made you angry? Yeah. I had this media crew shoot a program segment on the exhibit I've been handling on behalf of my client, and out of the crews I've worked with so far for this thing, they gave me the biggest headache. They were unprepared with their script, the assigned reporter was unsure what to say and had no clue how he was going to be shot (he was also LATE), and the cameramen were so inconsiderate of the paying guests (blocking their view, asking them to move so they can get their desired frame) I had to tell them off a million times to NOT do that and to fuck off from any customer who actually paid money to see the show.

There's also a room in the exhibit where the visuals are timed from start to end, so once you're in you can't get out, in the same way that you won't be let in if you're late. Anyway, this crew decides this is the perfect time to shoot a frame of the reporter walking into the room, but both the dude and the camera guys took SO FUCKING LONG to get their shot that the exhibit staff just closed the doors on them, and I had to tell the crew that they were going to have to wait 30 minutes for the next viewing.

I specifically mapped out my schedule today so that they can end by noon and I can drive back home to make it to my 1 PM meeting on time, but because they missed that part of the show they had to do the entire exhibit all over again. A big chunk of my time then got wasted and I had to take my meeting in the car. -___- I feel bad that I was clearly visibly irritated the entire time...but c'mon. Don't act like VVVVVIPs when we've bent over backwards this whole time to accommodate you on short notice.

What did you do today? I spent 3.5 hours in traffic just to get to ^ that shoot, went home immediately as I was sick of working outdoors (which I've been doing since Friday), then worked at 10x speed to be able to catch up on work that had been piling up since this morning. After work I bought tickets for SE SO NEON and now I'm eating this really really delicious burger from Wendy's.

What did you do Friday night? I was actually monitoring a media crew's shoot for the same exhibit, just for a different show. After that I was stuck in traffic for an offensive amount of time which I felt bad for my Grab driver about and just gave him a massive tip as both a sorry and thanks. I can't remember what I did after... I think I slept early that night - around midnight - because that entire week had left me really exhausted.

Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to? Mhm. I'm starting to get that feeling of dread more as I get older, too.

Are you lying to yourself about something? Let's go with a yes. I'm slowly coming to terms with what I know to be true, though.

Is your bed comfortable? As a bed it is, but it's a loft bed so I don't have an electric fan in front of me and so it gets really hot and uncomfortable when the weather isn't cooperating. These days I've been sleeping on my foldout sleeping bags positioned below the bed because at least I have an electric fan in this area.

Does it take a lot to make you happy? When I'm already pissed or uncomfortable, yes; but otherwise it is fairly easy to entertain me and make me smile.

Your best friend says to you now, “lets go to a party and get trashed!”? I'll be more surprised that came from her because she's mostly chilled out these days and I'm the friend who's always down to drink and be loud. Anyway, if it's RIGHT NOW right now, I'd probably say yes but I'd negotiate to go somewhere quieter as I need to go to the office tomorrow and it's not the best time to get 'trashed' LOL.

Who knows mainly all of your secrets? Are you still reading this? Then that person would be you. Haha

Can you go a day without thinking about the person that’s on your mind now? I'm not thinking about anyone.

What were you doing at 1 in the morning? Painstakingly trying to sleep. I had a particularly strong cup of coffee yesterday and the caffeine only kicked in the moment I was in bed, as if it did it on purpose.

If someone looked ON your bed, what would they find? Just my comforter and my BT21 plushies. Like I said, I've been sleeping in my sleeping bags these days so my pillows and blanket are here with me below my actual bed.

Were you single over last summer? Yes.

Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? Not my eyes, but I've had people compliment my eyelashes because they're suuuperrr long. Also why I've never needed to put on mascara.

Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight? I highly doubt that. I would 100% be cranky beyond belief, and I hate being in that state because it's always embarrassing afterwards.

How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? My dad, my grandpa, Nacho.

When you think of the rainbow, what pops in your head? Pride.

Is the person you last texted single? No idea, I only met her today.

Was last night terrible? Not terrible, but very exhausting.

[landinoandco]

Would you consider doing a part 2 for My best friend and I?

Of course - I was thinking of doing a part 3 as well, let me know if you would like me to turn this into a mini series

My best friend and I ....

Lando Norris x Reader

Part one

Word count: 1.6 k

Rating: angst

Requests are open :)

Part two:

It shouldn’t have hurt you. Not at all. Lando was your best friend and the feelings you felt towards each other had remained platonic. Just like it had been for years.

You stared down at the photo in front of you - your lip caught in between your teeth and a line creasing the skin between your brows. A thought in the back of your mind raised its voice - what if it was you in those photos?

Slamming your phone onto the kitchen counter, you exhaled violently and looked around your surroundings. It was his house. You were in his kitchen. Just like you had been many a time before so why was it suddenly so different?

You were house sitting for Lando whilst he was away on his summer break. Once again - this wasn’t usually a problem but it had given you time to think. A lot of time to think, in fact. To be at one with your thoughts, except you didn’t want to be ‘at one with your thoughts’ because your thoughts had led you down a dangerous rabbit hole of feelings and despair.

He had been gone a week - a whole week apart. It was something you had never done before, which seemed odd due to his job but before last week you had always travelled together. Wherever he went, you went. Likewise, wherever you went he went.

As his PR officer it was your job to travel the world with him but that's besides the point. Even before that as childhood best friends - the bond you formed meant that the longest time you would spend away from each other was when your parents dragged you away on a weekend trip to the seaside. A weekend of torture. A weekend without Lando.

Standing up, you moved in the direction of the front door - grabbing the keys and locking the door behind you. You needed to clear your head - you needed a distraction.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you started down the street; thinking back to the night before when you logged into his twitch account - he had joined, at first you thought he was going to be mad but instead Lando had typed into chat how much he missed you. Lando missed you and that was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Lando stared at Max’s phone, the photo glaring menacingly back up at him. He looked away as though the image pained him, scrunching up his nose and pushed the phone back to its owner. Max watched him warily, “It’s over every platform.” He added softly, placing his phone into his pocket.

“Right, thanks mate.” Lando mumbled, pulling his own phone out. He knew he had to call you, as his PR it was your job to instruct him on what he should do next. Had you seen the photo? Lando shook his head, you would have called him, the curiosity would have gotten the better of you. His finger hovered over your contact, he thought about what your reaction would be; what did he want your reaction to be? It was a valid question. He knew that there was no reason for you to be angry; at the end of the day he was on holiday and on holiday you have fun. What if you were jealous? Jealous of the girl in the photo. Lando’s arms snaked around the girl's waist, lips tantalisingly close to the girl’s ear. The corners of his mouth turned up at the thought.

The image of you had plagued him everytime he found himself alone. His thoughts running wild without you by his side, whilst you still messaged he still felt as though he was being starved from your company. It didn’t matter how many women he spoke to, they always seemed to be missing something. Part of him never wanted to get over you - part of him hoped that one day you realised that he did still love you, that it had never gone away. No matter how hard he tried. Part of him hoped that you were in love with him too.

The walk had failed to clear your thoughts. Everything led back to him. That infectious laugh. Those stupid curls. The way he looked at you. Every moment replaying in your mind on repeat. You were sure he would never feel the same way, especially after you rejected him all of those years ago. You sighed, the picture of the couple flashing in your mind.

As his PR officer you really should call him to help him manage the sudden attention. You clicked on his name, holding the phone to your ear. It rang once and he picked up.

“Hey.” Lando answered breathlessly. There was a pause before you answered, swallowing thickly you opened your mouth before closing it quickly.

“I take it, you've seen the photo.” You replied bluntly, there was no reason to sugar coat the reason for your call.

“I was actually just about to call you.” He said honestly, you could hear the sound of people talking getting quieter in the background. He was moving to somewhere more private. Away from prying eyes or ears in this case. “What should -”

You cut him off, standing up from the sofa and walking to stare out of the window. “Is this a serious relationship or -”

“No.” His voice was harsh, cold even.

“I had to ask - you know I did.” A loud silence filled your ears as you waited for him to respond - pressing your lips together as you did so.

“You would be the first person to find out if there was someone, you know that.” His tone was soft, so soft it was almost a whisper. A whisper that urged you to be close to him.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation - regardless of whether it’s a serious relationship or not. We both know how toxic some fans can be, does the girl know?” You knew that Lando was shaking his head. “Make sure the girl knows what may be coming her way. Carry on as normal and I know it’s hard but ignore it - don’t give it any attention because it will only add fuel to the unfortunate fire.”

Lando hung onto every word you said - how could he tell you that the only reason he kissed that girl was because he wanted to be closer to you. Your voice filled his ears once again, “Are you okay, Lando?” His thoughts were a tangled spiderweb, slowly entwining until he was struggling to think straight.

“I - uh.” He stuttered, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He was faced with a crossroad - he could tell you, there and then about how he really felt; explain the real reason to why he was caught on camera with the girl. He could tell you that he never stopped loving you. Not for one day. Lando could confess to his feelings. Or he could stay silent. Continue to lie and cover his feelings. He could argue that this way he was protecting your friendship. “Actually, there is something that we should talk about.”

A breath caught in your throat, you prayed Lando couldn’t hear it over the line. All of a sudden you could hear a second voice from the otherside of the phone. “Lando, are you on the phone to who I think you are on the phone to?” The expression was light but mocking and you recognised it almost immediately. Max Fewtrell, Lando’s second partner in crime. “Hang on,” He said to you, “I’m going to put you on speaker phone.”

“Hey Max,” You called out, relieved for the change in topic.

“I thought it was you our little gremlin had snuck off to speak to.” Max added, his voice becoming more audible. You and Max had always gotten on well, right from the moment Lando had introduced you. “Has he confessed his undying love for you yet?” He joked, a hint of truth laced in his tone. It had the effect of poison, the atmosphere immediately changing. You stiffened, jaw tightening as you waited for Lando to answer him.

“Come off it, we’re too close for any of that emotion sort of thing-”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, the regret was instantaneous. It was a lie. In fact it was the biggest lie he had told. Ever. Lando looked over to Max, his eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. Lando pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Right, way too close.” He heard you squeak in a way he had never heard you speak before. You sounded tired all of a sudden, almost downhearted.

“Wait-” He began to say, eyes snapping open. He was going to take it back. Confess to everything.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got to go. Remember what I said. I’ll see you when you get back.” Your words were rushed, throat slowly constricting. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall and ended the call abruptly.

You sank back down onto the sofa and groaned. You were in love with your best friend but he didn’t love you back.

Part three

[hanoella]

Deserving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x healer!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: When someone bad mouths Bucky in your presence, you set things straight.

Warnings: Angst, but with happy ending, and one vaguely 18+ insult? I'm new.

Speaking of- @wkemeup has inspired me to post my writing for the first time! For their 9k writing challenge, I used this prompt:

"Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]"

Enjoy!

..........

Bucky was used to the whispers he got from people the street when he passed by them.

“Is that-?”

“Don’t make eye contact, he’s dangerous.”

“They just let him walk around like he hasn’t killed a bunch of people?”

His enhanced hearing picked up more than he wished it did. He liked to believe it didn’t bother him but deep down it did. It was just one more reason to stay secluded. Isolated. Alone. And he had been successfully doing that.

Until you came along.

Having been the test subject of a super serum version that focused on health and regeneration, you used your healing powers to help the Avengers get back to world-saving shape. Bucky hadn’t been keen on anyone touching him, much less someone he didn’t know. Despite his best efforts, he had caved in when you noticed he was having a bad day with his shoulder and offered to help. Since then, your companionship has been like a guilty pleasure.

You had this way of making him feel like he was the most important person in the world to you. Regardless of what he thought was evident, you only seemed to notice the good in him, even when he protested.

“There’s nothing I can do to right the wrongs that I’ve committed. Redemption isn’t possible. I don’t deserve-”

“Stop.” You said, cutting him off. “You are amazing. You have been through everything that you’ve been through and you still give back to the world. You fight for a world that made you this way, a world that gives you nothing back and yet you fight. It’s the world that doesn’t deserve you.”

Bucky swallowed hard. Looking at you in your eyes, he saw no dishonesty. Only pure admiration.

After that, there was no hope of him being alone. You cracked open his shell slowly but surely and now Bucky couldn’t imagine life without you.

Which led him to his current predicament.

“Come on, please? It’ll be so good and only a few blocks away. I know tapioca sounds gross, but you’ll love it!”

Bucky didn’t know what bubble tea was but apparently it was worth begging him for the past 20 minutes while you worked on his shoulder. Your hands emitted a warm white light as you gently massaged his shoulder. The direct contact wasn’t necessary but Bucky hadn’t complained when you started doing it and it’s become routine every since.

“I don’t know. I know I’m old but I don’t have to resort to tapioca yet.”

Bucky let a moment pass before his lip twitched up into a smile. You feigned annoyance as you cut off the healing and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“How about you go with me and I won’t bill the heck out of you for my magical five-star massages.” You say as you squeeze his shoulders.

“Okay okay, fine.”

Bucky put his hands up in defeat as he got up from the couch he was sitting on and turned to face you.

You swallowed as you let your eyes drift across his chest before you grabbed his shirt from off the back of the couch and tossed it to him.

“Alright! I’m so excited!”

Bucky listened to you chatter on about the different flavors he could try while he put on his shirt. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe he actually had a friend besides Steve. Sure, it helped that you had been Steve’s friend first. But there was something about you having grown closer to him that made him feel special. Never did Bucky think there would be a time that he’d be jealous over a girl that Steve was friends with rather than the other way around. Times were certainly different.

“You coming?”

Bucky broke away from his thoughts and made his way towards the doorway that you were standing in.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

---

Yeah, he knew this was a bad idea.

As soon as you two had left Stark Tower, the whispers started. While the café was only two blocks away, you noticed something was off a block into the trip.

“You alright?” You asked as you tried to decipher his facial expression.

“Yeah. Fine.”

You looked at him skeptically and then shifted your eyes to follow his, glancing around you. You slowly nodded in understanding as you looked at the people around you who were trying not to draw attention to themselves.

“Okay. We can talk about it later.”

Bucky was thankful that most people talked quietly enough so that you couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Keyword: Most.

You two arrived at the café, where it was slightly crowded. It was a warm afternoon, the perfect time to get a cool drink. Before heading inside, you gently placed your hand on his arm for a moment to reassure him.

“If you want, we could look at the menu out here and then I’ll go inside to order it.”

Bucky shifted his weight slightly from one side to the other as he contemplated it.

“Nah. We can go in together.”

“Okay.” you said, gently smiling to hopefully reassure him.

You both enter the building and make your way to stand in line. Bucky looked around at the seating areas. It reminded him of a Starbucks but with a more pastel color scheme. You looked at him and he raised an eyebrow in response. You smiled, happy that he was with you. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and he smiled back.

That’s when you hear it.

“Is that that Hydra goon? Hey, go back to Siberia you brainwashed Hydra dog!”

You spun around violently the same time Bucky did with an incredulous look on your face, making eye contact with the college aged boy further back in line who was currently sniggering with his friends.

You stalked over to them before speaking in a low even tone.

“Sergeant Barnes has done more for the world than you could ever dream of doing. Apologize.”

You had let the venom creep into your voice, shouting the last word and silencing the rest of the line. Bucky walked up to you and put a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn your attention to him.

“C’mon. It’s not worth it.”

You let out a slow harsh exhale from your nose but didn’t move. The man only sneered.

“Why don’t you scurry along. I don’t care if you’re where he sticks his-”

The next thing Bucky registered was a nasty sounding crack as your fist connected with the jerk’s cheekbone. A round of gasps came from the surrounding crowd as he fell on the floor, completely dazed. You let out a pained grunt as you bent over, holding your hand while trying to cover the white light that started coming over your hand where the skin had bust open and something had definitely cracked.

“Okay, time to go.” Bucky said as he made an executive decision to get you two the heck out of there before anybody could react further. He put his hand on your back and quickly guided you out of the store, walking until you were out of the vicinity and almost back to the tower. You could tell that Bucky was not happy with you since he hadn’t said anything the whole way back. You entered the building and then stood silently in the elevator as it made its way up, refusing to meet his eye.

The elevator dinged as it opened up on the team’s dorm floor. You both walked quickly trying to avoid other people unsuccessfully as Sam stepped out into the hallway from the gym.

“Hey you two, what’re you… What happened to you?” He asked with a furrowed brow, nodding his head towards your hand as you walked past. Bucky and you answered at the same time.

“Nothing-”

“None of your business Sam-”

You gave Bucky a look and started chastising him.

“Hey, don’t be mean to him just because-”

“Keep. Walking.” He said through clenched teeth.

You rolled you eyes and shrugged apologetically at Sam as Bucky punched in the code to your apartment and swung the door open. He nudged you inside and then followed, shutting the door forcefully behind him.

Sam looked down the hall for a moment longer before shrugging it off. Natasha popped her head out into the hallway from the gym.

“What’s all the commotion?”

“Not sure. I think Mr. Tall, Dark and Metal left a few brain cells behind in the pod the last time he was frozen.”

Natasha snorted and then turned back into the gym.

---

Bucky closed the door behind him and then swung his arms out in confusion, giving you the same look of disbelief that he gives Yori when he starts a fight with his neighbors. You gave him the same look back, as if he was crazy for questioning your actions.

“What was that?” He finally asked.

“That guy was crazy! How could I not say something to him?”

“You didn’t have to hit him and hurt yourself! People say stuff like that all the time, you just have to ignore it and move on with your day.”

You stayed silent for a moment, averting your gaze and holding your injured hand that was gently glowing. Bucky gently let out his breath. He closed the distance between you and put his hand under yours to help you support it. His other hand grasped your forearm, gently moving over your smooth skin. He glanced down and watched as the inflammation went away and a bone shifted back into place under your skin.

“Please,” He whispered, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. “It’s not worth all the trouble. It’s not worth you getting hurt.”

“No.”

Bucky snapped his head back up to see you calm and determined. Speaking again, you look into his eyes.

“It is worth it.”

He blinked twice, not having expected that answer.

“Why?”

“Because if I had let him say what he was going to say. Then to me, it would be validating anyone who has ever said anything like that about you. I can’t let you believe that any of that is true.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“But you do.” You cried out, slipping your newly healed hand out of his grasp and stepping away.

“I can see it in your actions, Bucky. I see it when you deny yourself anything that would make you happy. I see it when you try to hide yourself from the world. I see it when you look at me.” You spoke, voice wavering with the last sentence, averting your gaze again. Bucky stood silent as you continued.

“I see a deep sadness in your eyes. I can feel it in your soul when I heal your shoulder. Or when you touch my hand to see if I’ve fallen asleep. I can feel it emanating off of you. But I know for a fact that you deserve to be happy. You deserve to rest and to be happy. How many times have you fought a fight that wasn’t yours because it was the right thing to do? And don’t say it was to redeem yourself because I know it’s more than that. You are a good man, James. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. But if you need to prove it to yourself than just take a look at me.”

You gently hold his face and guide it so that he’s looking at you. He’s surprised to find your eyes full of tears, threatening to spill over.

“When you look into my eyes, there is nothing but love and admiration for you. When you touch me, I feel the warmth you leave on my skin. When you hear me speak, you should be able to tell from what I say that I genuinely think you deserve the world. When you are hurting, the only thing I feel is your anguish. It kills me, to see you punish yourself so undeservedly.”

You were whispering now, looking up at him. Bucky’s eyes were watering as well, his jaw clenched in an attempt to hold back his emotions. With your hands still gently caressing his cheeks he slowly lowered his head so that his forehead was resting on yours, swallowing hard.

Bucky lifted his head slightly so that he could look at you and he saw nothing but love. Your eyelashes were wet and shimmering from tears you shed for him. Your cheeks were flushed from the overwhelming feeling that you had for him. He looked into the depths of your eyes and saw only his future with you. Finally, his gaze settles on your lips, soft and supple.

“Please,” you begged. “Please do not ask me to stand idly by as the world tears you apart. You are worth more to me than anything else in it.”

Slowly, his hands touch your waist and slide back until he’s holding you against him. Closing the gap between you, you kiss.

Nothing more in this world could assure him of your love. For once, he believes it.

[silky-stories]

Whitty having a nightmare about accidentally killing his s/o and reader comforting him with cuddles? 👀

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait by the way, the ask ended up glitching and disappeared for the longest time ^^;;

Hope this turned out alright!

———————————————————————

Too Dangerous {Whitty/Reader}

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 1788

Related Song: sagun - I’ll Keep You Safe (feat. Shiloh) https://youtu.be/7ly7Mhle-4M

Summary: Whitty is scared of losing control and hurting his partner, thankfully his partner is a magician and knows how to make all of his worries disappear.

Disclaimer/s: Death, blood, small description of dead body, a bit of swearing, crying and panic attacks

Notes: (Please read) The start is pretty graphic and may be hard to read for some people, so there’s a double line down further that you can scroll to if you want to skip that part. It gets happy though, don’t worry :)! Also Whitty’s dialogue is in orange, Y/n’s is in blue!

———————————————————————

Numb.

That’s how he always felt after this happened.

After he lost his cool.

After he lost himself.

After his body gave in and combusted into the hot red plumes of rage, engulfing and ripping his body apart in one swift action.

...

After he exploded.

It never took long for his body to piece itself back together, for his pieces to come back and connect and rejoin one another, allowing his mind and consciousness to slowly but surely become clearer.

It was like puzzle pieces, all eventually finding their place as the picture that was his senses to come together, becoming complete once more.

None of this was new to him, he had experienced it many times before.

Only... something was wrong this time.

His vision was still very blurry, but he could make out a few colours, red being the most prominent.

He had never felt especially impatient to regain his senses, but the further along his accelerated recovery was, the more his half healed subconscious screamed that something bad had happened.

It wasn’t until he regained his sense of smell back that he started panicking.

The thick smell of copper and rust that cut through the air quickly invaded his lungs, violating his airways with the essence of metal and death.

Maybe it was the familiarity that scared him the most but...

He knew the smell of blood all too well.

The red he saw was immediately more violent and harsh than it seemed to be before, he stumbled closer to the scene with eyes only partially focused.

His legs still lacked most of the feeling in them, but he managed.

He needed to see what it was, he needed to know who it was. The speed that his blood rushed through his body only sped up his recovery as the picture finally came together.

...

He couldn’t keep his footing as he finally made out what laid before him.

You.

Your bleeding, broken form laid still on the concrete.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

...

He was trying to breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

...

Suddenly everything hurt. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. His hands hurt. His body screamed in agony and grief at the loss of one of the few people that cared. One of the few that loved him.

What could he do now though?

You were dead.

He had killed you.

It was his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was-

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Whitty’s eyes snapped open as he hastily sucked in a gasp of air.

He laid there, motionless, greedily filling his lungs with the oxygen that his unconscious mind believed so strongly that he had been deprived of.

He could hear how shaky his breaths were despite the numbness, he was practically hyperventilating as he gave the ceiling a wide-eyed stare.

His form felt frozen in place as images from his dream flashed in front of his open eyes like a movie.

His stillness was disturbed only when you shifted beside him, he flinched, quite violently actually, as your head bumped into his arm.

The groan and words that came from you were his first indication that he shouldn’t have done that.

You were up.

Shit.

“Whitty..? Are you... mmph, are you alright?” You yawned as you propped yourself up in bed beside him, taking a moment to rub the sleep out of your eyes so you could look at him.

When you opened your eyes you saw that he had flinched back from laying down into a sitting up position. He was staring down at you, being the skyscraper that he was. Although there was only one thing that stood out to you, sobering you up from your sleep-drunk state.

“Y... y-yeah sorry I uh... didn’t mean to wake you u-”

“Wait, why are you crying?”

He paused, only now noticing the dark and warm trails that trickled down his face. He was quick to look away to try to wipe them out of existence, the concern on your face had only deepened when he looked back.

“It’s really nothing you... you don’t... don’t have to worry... about me... s-sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He was a mess and couldn’t piece together a sentence to save his life at the moment but he hoped it would be at least slightly convincing.

He really shouldn’t have thought that.

You very clearly weren’t convinced as you gingerly took hold of his upper arms and guided him to you, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your body as you followed suit with your arms around him.

He wanted to protest, he wanted to further reassure you that he was fine and let you go back to sleep so you didn’t have to deal with his emotional baggage at three in the morning. When he looked up at your patient but distressed expression though, made contact with those eyes that told him that he wouldn’t be judged for whatever it was that had upset him... he just couldn’t hold it in.

It started with tears silently starting to flow again as he pressed his face into your abdomen to hide them, his body starting to tremble in your embrace. It didn’t take very long for him to break into choked sobs, gripping at the t-shirt you had worn to bed like it was his last lifeline.

“Oh Whitty... I’m here, everything’s alright...”

You had no idea what it was that had upset him yet, but the need to console him was intense and immediate. Your hands moved to the positions that had worked before, one on the back of his head and one on his back. Small circular motions were what you started with on his back, gently caressing his head with your other hand as you allowed him the time he needed to vent out his emotions.

This went on for around ten minutes. You didn’t really care, you weren’t watching the clock.

He had stopped crying within the first five, but it took another five minutes to regulate his breathing. Now he was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, the way you had showed him to before when he needed help to calm down.

You continued to console him through actions, waiting to see if he would initiate the conversation you knew he was ready for now.

He turned his head to the side while still keeping his grip on your torso, he looked exhausted.

“...Y/n?”

You were glad you waited.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever think that I’m...”

You didn’t try to push him to finish his sentence, you knew he just needed a moment to get his words straight.

“...too dangerous to be around?”

You didn’t want to ask, you really didn’t, but you needed the context if you wanted to help him feel better.

“In what way?”

His expression soured as he glared at nothing from across the room.

“There’s a reason why there’s people after me, Y/n...”

Oh.

Oh.

He meant himself being who he was that dangerous.

Well that just wouldn’t do.

“Oh Whitty, why would I think that?”

“Because I fucking am!”

His sudden outburst didn’t frighten you, you had gotten used to them a long time ago.

“I’m unpredictable and can’t control myself sometimes! What will happen if you’re around me when I lose control? Human bodies can’t piece themselves back together Y/n!”

You kept silent as you took in everything he said, committing it all to memory since you knew that these were valid concerns and he needed to lay them all out if he wanted to address them.

“I love you... so damn much... but I’d rather be on the other side of the world if I knew that it would protect you from me!”

He moved to look up at you, the fear in his eyes was heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t... I couldn’t live with myself if I knew that it was me that... that killed you...”

There it was, the heavy statement that served as a queue for you to speak, you could see the anticipation in his eyes. It was peculiar actually, the look he held, it was like he was expecting you to agree with everything he just said and run or something...

You tightened your embrace around him to stamp that thought out of existence.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know?”

“I... huh?”

“I’ve seen the amount of times that you’ve been close to losing it, I know how hard it can be to stay in control.”

He couldn’t hold contact with your eyes, the amount of pure love and care for him was overwhelming after all the fear and desperation that he had just given in return.

“But I’ve also seen how much better you’ve gotten at keeping control.”

That was a surprise to him, but you knew that he would know what you were talking about if you gave some examples.

“Remember the guy in the grocery store? You looked like you wanted to rip his head off, and I didn’t blame you.”

You chuckled at the memory of the guy that decided to try to argue why the two of you shouldn’t be together since you were human and he wasn’t. The man was frustrating and made no sense at all, but Whitty’s fuse didn’t even spark, he didn’t lose himself to anger. He gave the guy the sharpest glare he’s ever done, told him to ind his own damn business, and then lightly took your hand and continued on.

His show of restraint was impressive to say the very least.

“You’ve been getting really good with controlling yourself, and we’re still working on it too. I’m not scared of you and definitely don’t plan on going to the other side of the world.”

Your grin was infectious, he hated and loved how infectious your grin was as he tried to stifle the small smile working it’s way up onto his face.

“I’m so proud of how hard you’ve been trying to keep control of yourself, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He... he let himself smile after that.

“I don’t deserve you...”

“And you’re clearly overtired since you’re just saying nonsense now.”

He chuckled, it was hoarse and faint but it was a wonderful sound.

“Really though, let’s try and get you back to sleep, okay?”

He pushed himself up further on the bed and carefully intertwined his body with yours, breathing out a sigh as he buried his face in your hair.

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Guardian Angel ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

GENRE: College AU, enemies to lovers, bully to lover, Tsundere bully to lover

A.N: Thank you so much for the creative freedom hunny and I hope that this is okay for you

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE BETWEEN READER AND ANOTHER CHARACTER IN THE FIC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Running late as always you pushed the door open to your Criminology class where everyone turned to stare at you, nothing new about that. They always stared. But you didn't bother to question why they were staring this time, it was normally because you were late or that they just simply wanted to make you uncomfortable. It was obvious that no one seemed to like you, not even the tutor that taught the class. The door opened again behind you and before you even had a chance to move a voice rang out loudly causing more people to look up,

"Move, dweeb." You shuffled to the side letting him go by and you felt your stomach churn as you saw him. Dressed in his usual leather jacket, biking gloves and black jeans he sauntered across the floor towards his desk. His long black hair was thrown into a bun as he mumbled asking people to move as he got to his row. Girls staring the entire time as he dragged the chair out and sat down, making as much noise as possible because he loved the attention he got. 

"Jeon Jungkook. Reason for being late?" Your tutor questioned as you slowly made your way over to your desk, mentally thanking Jungkook's power to take attention away from everyone else so that you could get away with being late. 

"Bike broke down on the way. Stopped to fix it." He murmured as he began taking out his book from his bag, waiting for the class to continue on. As if that was a valid excuse the tutor nodded turning her attention to you as she remembered that you were late. Her hands rested on her hips as she tapped her foot staring at you, her long blond hair was left down and she wore a black pencil skirt with a white dress shirt, the top buttons open so that she could show off her fake tits. 

"Miss Y/l/n." A coldness ran through your body as you realised you weren't out of the woods yet and you were about to get punished for being late. If it wasn't bad enough you were already late because you'd slept through all of your alarms you knew you were going to end up late for work that night because being late with Miss Nolty always meant detention.

"Give me an excuse, which is it this time? Your dog turned off your alarm, your roommate locked you out? You couldn't find the room..." You ignored the tutor as you kept your head down, the entire class of around 30 students all joining in with her but Jungkook watched as he could sense you were growing uncomfortable. Blood boiling as he watched everyone laughing along, coming up with more excuses he sighed to himself, slamming his hand onto the table gaining the attention of the girl sitting beside him who was trying to study.

"She was with me." Heads shot over in Jungkook's direction as he stared at the tutor who looked heartbroken at the mere thought of you being alone with Jungkook. It was no secret that the college tutor had her way when it came to male students, sleeping with anyone she found attractive. Miss Nolty folded her hands over her chest covering herself up for the first time ever,

"With you?" The tutor questioned as she turned all of her attention back onto him, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change as everyone seemed shocked to learn Jungkook had been with you. The girls in your glass began glaring at you while the guys all seemed to smirk with one another, staring over at you with hunger in their eyes.

"Well...I'll see you both in detention tonight. Tardiness is not tolerated in my classroom." She snapped at Jungkook, ranting on about how this would never work in a workplace but you drowned her out, doing independent studying from the book that was in front of you. 

Why did Jungkook have to do that? He hated you more than anyone else in the course did so why did he feel the need to suddenly stand up for you in front of the tutor and everyone in the classroom. He'd probably just made your life ten times worse than it already way in the course. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So...Are you fucking him?" A voice whispered from the left side of you, glancing over you saw one of the jocks staring at you and chewing on some gum. He was wearing a large hoodie with the college logo on the front, his hair was receding at the front and it looked as though he'd probably be bald before he turned 30.

"What? Who?" You frowned forgetting for a moment what Jungkook had said as you looked at the jock, you didn't even know his name and you were pretty sure he didn't know yours either.  

"Guk. Are you fucking him?" You laughed at him turning your head away as you shook it violently, there was nothing on this planet that would make you even want to be nice to Jungkook never mind sleep with him. 

You'd lived beside him for years and he'd always been a dick to you, throughout high school and college. You were pretty sure he'd only joined the Criminology course just so that he could torture for a few more years, everything was some sort of sick and twisted game to him.

"So...You're not? You're single?" A bell went off inside of you as you could sense where this conversation was going to go, he was going to ask you out and it was going to be some kind of prank so you ignored him trying to keep your eyes on the page. 

"I just...I need someone to study with and I don't want to ask anyone else." He continued to whisper watching you the entire time, normally you were great at blocking everyone out but today you couldn't. 

"I'll never bother you again...It's just for the test?" Biting down on your lip you suddenly turned to look at him, tears threatening to well up in your eyes but you didn't let them. 

"Why? So you can show up with all of your friends and laugh at me? Or are you just going to not come and laugh about it the next day?" Something broke inside of you as you snapped at him, ignoring the strange looks you were gaining from those around you. 

"Or did Jungkook put you up to it?" You shook your head laughing at the thought of it but the guy shook his head, 

"No. I'm in serious need of help...Please, I know you work at Jo's. I can meet you there?" The desperation in his voice was hard to fake so you nodded at him, agreeing that you'd meet him there. 

"I have a shift. I finish at 6 tonight." You mumbled before going back to reading from the book as the guy slid a piece of paper in front of you. 

Seongwa 07387178916 in case I'm late x

Sliding it into your book you tried to ignore the kiss on the end and focus on your reading instead of the panic that was bubbling up inside of you about that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The apron looks cute," Seongwa said as you sat down across from him in one of the booths, you looked down at your uniform and gave him a fake smile. The uniform was too revealing for your liking, a short dress combo with a pink frilly apron to tie it all together with. 

"It's gross and misogynistic." You grumbled taking out your book from your bag and flipping it open to the chapter the test was going to be on. All about serial killers and their upbringing, it was a debate based on if serial killers could be caught in their youth, which signs could help determine them. 

"I was just struggling with some of the terms, I know that frequently they're bed wetters from bad homes but what else?" He questioned watching you as your eyes skimmed over the book in front of you. 

As you were about to answer him the door opened in the store and Jungkook walked in, you saw him walking over to the table and order a drink. The same drink he got every time he came into the small diner you worked it, not that he ever came in when you were working. Only when you'd finished a shift, you'd catch him as you were leaving. 

"There are many different factors, bedwetting and bad home lives are the main ones but not everyone with those turns out to be a murderer." You mumbled as you ran your highlighter over a section of the book he could use, 

"It has all of the factors that most of the killers share." You pushed the book in front of him and he began reading, or at least you thought he was reading. 

"Look what we have," A voice called out making you look up from your phone, standing at your table was one of the girls in your class. Like Miss Nolty she had a large crush on Jungkook so you knew what was going to happen and you prepared yourself for the endless bombard of insults that were about to get thrown at you.

"The little slut going through the whole class," She smirked looking at you, Yeji, she was popular and pretty and bitchy. Everything that added up to a high school cliche. 

"Why are you sitting with my boyfriend?" She questioned as she sat down on Seongwa's lap, you looked down at the paper not wanting to make eye contact with her in case she suddenly turned you into stone. 

"He asked for help-"

"Babe. I was sitting here and she came up to me, like you said she's a stalker creep." Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as Seongwa spoke about you like that, 

"H-He asked for help studying, I was helping-" A stinging sensation raced across your face as you hissed out, holding your hand up to your cheek shocked that Yeji had slapped you like that or even slapped anyone like that. 

"That looked like it stung, here...Let me cool it down for you." Her voice was filled with fake pitty as she picked up a milkshake from the table beside yours and began slowly pouring it down onto your head and uniform. Everyone in the diner stood by and watched doing nothing as she smirked at you, 

"You have a little something," She threw a napkin at you and began giggling as Seongwa laughed loudly, snapping photos for everyone to see. You never should have agreed t helping him, you knew from the start that something was wrong with him suddenly asking you to help.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook's voice asked as he stood beside the table but no one turned to look at him, you just kept your head down as the milkshake seeped into your apron not daring to move in case he was in on it too. 

"Hey! I'm talking to you dumbass, what do you think you're doing?" Jungkook sounded beyond angry as he stared down at the guy beside you, Seongwa turned to look at Jungkook and scoffed, 

"What does it look like? We're having fun." He laughed loudly as Yeji got off his lap, running her fingers up and down Jungkook's clothed chest. 

"Come on, it's funny Guky. We're playing your favourite game. Torture the loser," She laughed loudly but he took her wrist in his hand, moving it off him before moving her away from him completely as he turned to look at Seongwa who was still laughing. 

"It's not fucking funny," He growled making you look up in surprise, your heart beating rapidly against your chest as he stood up for you for the second time that day. 

"You gotta admit it is, look-" Seongwa's hand was pulled away from you as he went to point and he was dragged from his seat by an angry Jungkook.

"Get away from her," It was a warning this time as he shoved Seongwa in the direction of the exit, 

"Whoa, man! What's your fucking problem?!" He yelled out watching as Jungkook picked up his book and threw it down by his feet, ignoring everyone who was turning to stare at what was happening in the diner. 

"Do I need to explain my reasoning? Get the fuck away from her," Jungkook's eyes seemed to darken as he stared at Seongwa who started laughing even harder,

"Ooooo, do you like her? Do you want to kiss her?" Within seconds Seongwa was pushed against the wall while Jungkook held onto the lapels of his jacket, forcing him against the wall as he spoke in a harsh tone.

"She's mine to tease, she belongs to me." He spat as he looked at a terrified Seongwa, his eyes widened with fear as he nodded dramatically. 

"I'm the only one allowed to tease her...Do I make myself fucking clear?" Once Seongwa nodded Jungkook dropped him, watching the boy scramble to pick up his things before leaving the diner with Yeji trailing behind him.

"Fucking idiot, it's a good thing I came when I found out he'd asked for help. What kind of dumbass are you? Why do something like this?" He gestured towards all of the notes that were now ruined and covered in the milkshake that had splattered onto you. 

"I'm always picking you up when bad shit happens," He groaned as he watched you trying to wipe off as much of the milkshake as humanly possible still not speaking a word to him. There was no way for you to tell if this was still part of what Seongwa had planned or if he was being genuine. 

"Do you have any spare clothes?" He sighed as he realised you were going to have to go home to your dorms covered in the milkshake, you shook your head. 

"No." Simple answeres was going to get you through the meeting with him, he began rooting through the bag he had with him.

"What's their deal? Why do they hate you so much?" You stared at Jungkook not knowing if you should laugh or cry at his questions. 

"Why do you care?" Jungkook held up a hoodie from inside of his bag, a black one with some shorts he owned. 

"I don't. Nobody else is allowed to treat you like that, only I'm allowed," He shoved the clothes into your hand being careful not to hit the milkshake parts of you. 

"Why?" You questioned again.

"Because you need clothes to travel home in. I'm not letting you get onto my bike in that," He gestured to the messed up outfit and you shook your head, 

"I'm already home. I stay here...But I meant why do you get to be the only one that bullies me?" It felt strange to be having a conversation with him after all of these years, 

"Because I know when to stop. What do you mean you stay here? You have a dorm..." You stared at him wondering what kind of simple-minded answer that was. It was stupid but as you came to think of it all those years Jungkook had bullied you not once did he go too far and make you cry like everyone else had but it didn't justify anything.

"Why are you staying here?" He asked as he waited for you to answer, you'd just gotten changed into the clothes he'd given to you and came out of the bathroom.

"My roommates locked me out, I've been staying on the sofa in the basement," You admitted as you realised he wasn't going to drop it until he got all of the answers out of you, 

"Is that why you've been so late lately?" You nodded at him putting your clothes into a laundry basket with the rest of your dirty clothes, you needed to find a laundromat somewhere.

"Why do you let people treat you like that?"

"Why do you treat me like that? Why do you hate me?!" You countered back at him snapping at little raising an eyebrow as you waited for him to answer the question this time.

"You're always doing something fucking dumb, always getting into trouble you're a magnet for it!" He yelled out as he grabbed the keys for his bike and your hand, pulling you towards the exit of the diner.

"What are you doing?" You questioned as he kept pulling you out of the door and towards his bike. Sitting there was a large black motorbike that looked expensive, 

"You're not staying on a sofa when I have a perfectly good spare room." He grumbled as he opened the seat to get the helmet out of it, 

"Put it on before you hurt yourself." He handed you a black helmet but you made no attempt to put it on. 

"Here," He placed it onto your head, strapping it on tightly enough so that it wouldn't come off, 

"I don't need your clumsy ass hurting yourself," He mumbled as he sat you on the bike, sitting in front of you and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

"Hold on tight." That was the last thing he mumbled before he began driving off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'll make some tea," Jungkook's dorm was nothing how you had expected it to be, you thought it would be dark but it was bright. White walls with white furniture and photos everywhere of his family, you knew his mother so you recognised her face in the photographs. You stayed silent as he bought you a cup of tea to the coffee table in his living room, you had no idea what to say to him or why you had even gone along with him in the first place. 

"All I could think about was hitting him, no one should treat you like that! It bothers me so much when everyone does it in class," Staring at him in shock you wondered why it bothered him so much when all of these years he'd been doing the same thing. 

"Why?" He stared at you as he frowned, did you really not see everything he had been doing to protect you?

"You're mine. No one gets to treat you like that...Ever." It confused you even more as you stared back at him, 

"You do the same thing. You've bullied me for years." You shook your head at him and he sighed, 

"There's a difference...I know when you stop when you've had enough...I do it because I know your boundaries." Only more confusion set in as he admitted it to you, it didn't make up for anything he had said or done over the years. 

"I've always looked out for you though...Like when it snowed and I drove you home. Or when you had that cold and I brought you medicine...I always made sure you had notes in class." It was true but he still did it while calling you mean names or being rude about it. 

"Is anyone else bothering you? I have to know who and what they're doing so I can stop them." That was when it hit you, he was being protective in a mean way. He was acting like all of those rude Tsundere anime boys you saw in manga and shows. 

"You're being...Protective?" You questioned as you stared at him, he locked eyes with you not saying anything,

"You're worried about me?" You asked again as you waited for him to say something else but he got up in a rush, almost hitting the coffee table and spilling the tea. 

"It's your fault I get like this! It's your fault I get so worried and protective over you!" He yelled out as he began pacing around the floor, your eyes on him the whole time as you waited for him to say something else. 

"Those big eyes, that smile that always makes me smile even when you're driving me nuts and being so god damn annoying!" He stopped still and stared at you, 

"What are you talking about?" Everything felt as though it was getting too much to handle but you had to know why he did this, why he had done all of this over the years and why he was still so protective over you now. 

"I had to keep annoying you and bullying you otherwise I was going to start thinking about how much I loved you...How much I wanted you." Blinking you stared at him now knowing what to say in response to him. 

"Loved?" Was the only thing that seemed to be coming out of your mouth staring back at him, 

"It's your fault." You laughed softly as he passed the blame onto you as if it was something you had to do with, it was his feelings, not yours. 

"Which is why you're going to stay here so I can look after you. Make you get to work and class okay...Make sure you're okay-" He stopped speaking when you smashed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you finally kissed him after all these years. The long awaiting build up making your stomach flip and sparks fly as you finally kissed one another. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up so he could finally hold you close to his body. 

"I love you dumbass," He mumbled against your lips as you nodded at him, 

"I love you too, cunt." You bit down on his lip before kissing him once again, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you leant into him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting beside him in class the next day was nerve-wracking, he had his arm around your shoulder glaring at anyone that was staring at the two of you for more than he approved of. Not everything was perfect between the two of you and it was going to take some time to get used to him being kind of nice to you all of a sudden but there was no denying your feelings for one another. Besides, he was like your guardian angel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ 

[angelguk]

if youre still thinking angst for jock jk: much like real life jungkook, jock jk i feel like wants to be good — at everything. and he really is great at everything! so when he isnt great, he takes it very personally and i wouldnt be surprised if this spills into his relationship. wanting to do things “perfectly” in their relationship but forgetting that jock jk! oc should be involved in the decision making of what is “perfect”

alternatively: olivia rodrigo deja vu but jungkook is olivia thinking about oc and namjoon

this is very much a valid angst prompt ur brain is amazing anon im giving u a kiss rn......... ummm lemme write sumn small for dis :3

featuring: oc being oblivious, jeongguk just wanting to be the best boypwen, namjoon being observant and unspoken insecurities

Jeongguk doesn't usually shrink into himself like this. He abhors it, knows it's not him at all. And yet, he can't help his behaviour, knee bouncing harshly against the bricked pavements as he waits for you to leave your chemistry lab. There's a dainty silver bracelet sitting in his pocket, his head resting in hands as the autumn sun beats down on his back. You don't know it yet but he's got a pretty date planned: a late lunch at your favourite restaurant, an evening walk in the park at the centre of town, maybe some arcade games or a movie if you feel like it, and then a drive down to the hillside where you can watch the sun slip beyond the horizon and Jeongguk can gift you the bracelet and the cute bunny teddy he picked out last night.

It's not for any reason in particular, Jeongguk just wants you to know how much he cares (loves) you. Adoration is what drives his actions, his head springing up when the doors finally swing open and your fellow students spill forth into the afternoon breeze.

You're always one of the last people to leave because you liked buttering up your professors with casual conversations and sweet compliments, so Jeongguk isn't too bothered when everyone disperses and you're still not visible. It's not like you knew he was here away – he did tell you he was stuck in practise all afternoon.

When you do appear, the tiny welcoming smile that was sitting on his lips plummets to the floor.

You're gazing up at a familiar face, eyes sparkling as the sun hits them, your features bright and eager. His eyes eventually shift to the person ambling beside you, taking his towering stature and confident stride, a sickening feeling spreading through his system when he recognises who it is.

Kim Namjoon.

Of all sights to see, Jeongguk would rather have his eyes plucked out by birds that see you around Namjoon again. Especially after what he said to him.

You're giggling, completely unaware of the violent twisting of Jeongguk's heart in his ribs and the words he'd planned to say dissolving on his tongue. You don't even notice him at first, Namjoon's eyes are the ones that stray away, idling over the campus scenery until the settle on Jeongguk.

He wants to smash something, fingernails digging into his palm as his fist curls. Namjoon just grins, waving him down like they're old friends. "Jeongguk!"

You follow then, surprise bleeding over your pretty face. Jeongguk doesn't know why it hurts.

"Gukkie?" A question. He notes how you lean into Namjoon as you draw close, like he's your boyfriend.

"Hey." It's said so quietly that Jeongguk considers smacking himself in the face. A tight cough follows the meek word, clearing his throat from the heaviness that plagues it. "How was class?"

"Good," you return, still confused. "I thought you had practise?"

"Coach let us out early," he lies, smiling hard so you don't see through it.You make a non-committal noise, vaguely appeasing the turmoil in his head. "Namjoon," he adds, finally acknowledging the asshole. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Ah," he sighs, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. "I got an internship here; Professor Song was kind enough to give me an assistant position. I'm considering applying for master's here too."

"Oh," he doesn't even try to mask his irritation. "That's nice."

But you don't hear it, nodding like an enamoured puppy. "Right? It'll be nice having you around again!"

"It feels good to be here," Namjoon returns. "Don't know why I didn’t apply to this university, to be honest."

Jeongguk knows. It was because this was your dream university and Namjoon didn't want to do his undergraduate with you trailing around like a lingering stench, especially right after your break-up. But now, apparently, he's totally fine with it.

"Hmm, yeah. It's a great university," Jeongguk states, disinterested. He turns to you with a tired smile. "I actually came to pick you up for lunch, you haven't eaten yet have you?"

"I actually did before class," you say, lips forming an apologetic pout. "Can we reschedule for dinner? I wanna show Namjoon around first."

Oh. The weight of his heart sinks him into the ground, earth eagerly swallowing him up as his head splits. So Namjoon gets first priority. Kim Namjoon, over him. Over your boyfriend.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeongguk shrugs. "That's fine. We can reschedule. Text me when you're done, okay?"

He doesn't miss the way Namjoon's gaze lingers on him as he turns away, waving you a quick goodbye. You didn't even give him a hug, stationed beside Namjoon like you watched to attach his limbs to yours. It's unsettling, how swift you loyalty glides away from Jeongguk. He hates how annoyed it makes him because he knows you don't do it purposely. But still, shouldn't he come first?

It's that thought that sends him spiralling, sitting alone in the heat of his car as the bracelet in his pocket grows heavy. Where you like this with Namjoon? Did you put him first? He thinks you did – you cancelled on him so many times in the course of that relationship. Did Namjoon take you to similar places? Did the two of you have moments you never shared with him? That one hurts the most, because even to this day Jeongguk has never shared the titbit of information Namjoon granted him. What did Namjoon give you that you never see in Jeongguk? Even with the title of 'together' hanging over your heads he doesn't feel secure enough – good enough for you. It's what leaves him on edge, overthinking each moment and word and touch shared between the two of you. Because it took you both so long to get here, what did you see in those other guys that you never saw in Jeongguk at first? He longs to be only one you remember, wipe away any lasting memory of any of the others, until it was only him.

But that feels impossible, further sparked in moments like this when you pick them over him. He'll always be the second option, the sideline safety. But never the first choice.