#I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL ABOUT THESE MOVIES

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[bigification]

Handlebars

Day 1:

My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.

"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."

He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.

"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.

"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.

He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.

Day 7:

It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.

The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.

"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."

"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."

It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.

Day 15:

I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.

I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.

Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.

Day 30:

Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.

Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.

"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."

He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.

Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.

Day 60:

This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.

"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."

Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.

"Here bro, take this."

Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.

"Just for you Handlebars."

I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.

"You got this all for me bro?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."

Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.

Day 100:

I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.

Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.

"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.

"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.

"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.

"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.

"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.

The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.

Day 120:

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.

For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.

At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.

Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.

I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.

Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.

He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.

I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.

"You're mine."

I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.

"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."

I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.

I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.

"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.

Day 150:

I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.

We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.

Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.

[rafey-baby]

hidden 3

cw: outlaw!rafe being his usual self, hostage situation, mentions of murder, pogue!reader having some sexual awakenings & some backstory on rafe

wc: 2.3k

hope u enjoy xx

part 1 part 2

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

The following morning, her eyes groggily open in her own bed; covers tucked over her shoulders and head comfortably propped up by her pillow. She finds herself perplexed, doesn’t know how she ended up here since her last coherent memory from last night is sitting on the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck and letting her heavy lids close for what was originally supposed to be a few minutes.  

Her sock-clad feet pad over to the living room where Rafe is rummaging through some of his papers and whatnot; appearing as busy as ever.  

”Why don’t I remember coming home last night?” She stops to stand next to him. 

”Cause you sleep like a fucking rock. Had to carry you to your room,” he sounds disinterested, not even bothering to lift his head from the piece of paper he’s pinching between his fingers. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be some sort of a contract; letters unfortunately too tiny for her to be able to read from where she’s standing. 

“Oh. Thanks?”

Instead of leaving her passed out in his car like she would’ve assumed, he tucked her into bed? Maybe he owns a heart, after all.  

“It’s whatever,” he dismisses her while reading something over; seemingly deep in thought.  

“Do you— do you need help with that?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” his hand lifts up to scratch at the back of his head before he scribbles something down.

”Right…” she trails off, apparently rooted in her spot and unable to move.  

”Did you want something or what?” His tone is suddenly exasperated, eyes finally flickering up to peer into hers along with his brows raising expectantly.  

”No, I just…are we going somewhere today?” She can’t help but feel a little out of place in her own home with him there; almost as if she’s waiting for his next command to know what to do next. It makes something peculiar swim in the pits of her stomach.  

”Nah, just have to go over these. Can you, I don’t know, go to your room or something? You’re bothering me with your staring,” he grumbles and shifts into a more comfortable position on the couch; not sparing her another ounce of attention.  

”Okay,” she mumbles, a frown taking over her visage.  

Honestly, she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to do now. Normally, she’d go to work at the surf shop near the beach but since Rafe so kindly took her phone and texted everyone in her contacts about a family emergency that would take some days to sort through, she can’t exactly do that. And besides work…well, she doesn’t really have much else going on in her life. It’s sad, really, how a literal criminal forcing his way into her house is the most exciting thing to happen to her in the past few years.  

All things considered though, she doesn’t mind living a quiet life in the Cut, just sometimes wishes she didn’t feel so…lonely. And don’t get her wrong, she has friends, she just sometimes yearns for something deeper than fun boat adventures or getting high with her feet dangling over the dock while a tangerine-colored sunset paints over the horizon.  

She’s always had this dream of traveling around the world or simply just somewhere that wasn’t the Outer Banks but her parents never had the money for it. Therefore, she settled and learned to earn a living by herself in order to keep a roof over her head.  

And she’s been content with her simple life, even considers herself to be happy but then she sat on Rafe’s lap and at the realization of him getting hard from her unconscious rubbing against him felt butterflies in her belly, maybe for the first time in her life. It was something she thought only happened in movies yet there they were; their fluttering wings poking at her core like some vicious reminder that she hadn’t let someone make her feel good in ages.  

Truth be told, she grew tired of guys not being able to make her come because they didn’t understand her needs; didn’t even bother to find them out which is why she sort of lost hope for the whole thing altogether. But then Rafe steps inside her home uninvited and is nothing but mean to her and suddenly she...

It's wrong.

It doesn't make any sense yet she still can't help but feel a certain pull towards him whenever he's close. And she doesn't like it one bit; wants to forget about it as quickly as the thought breaches her mind.

It's far too complex for her perplexed mind to grasp onto, which is why she confuses it for insanity; simply decides that she’s going crazy. And maybe she is, because why else would she suddenly care for Rafe? Why is a hidden part of her heart beginning to harbor gooey, fond feelings for a killer who’s technically holding her hostage? 

She’s sure her muddled brain is going to explode if she thinks about the matter any longer; instead opting to take a long, scalding shower due to the clothes she’s been wearing since yesterday starting to stick to her sweaty skin and making her feel even filthier than she already does. 

Unfortunately, the steaming water doesn't quite wash away the ache between her thighs.

She’s in the middle of pulling a shirt over the damp strands of her hair when harsh knuckles rap against her bedroom door and Rafe enters a second later; not even bothering to wait for a response.  

”Change of plans—” his words die down on his tongue when he notices her current state.  

”Rafe, what the fuck?” She quickly adjusts the hem over her waist, painfully aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any pants and his eyes are now fixed on the lace of her panties practically on show for him. 

”Why are you just barging into my room like that? I could’ve been naked!” She complains before snatching a pair of shorts off her floor; tugging them over her hips.  

”Shit, wouldn’t have minded if you were. Got a nice ass for a Pogue,” he shrugs while sporting an irritating smirk that makes her glare at him.  

”And you’ve got no manners for a Kook. Except, I’m not surprised,” she rolls her eyes when he feigns shock; exaggeratedly dropping his jaw.

”Puppy’s getting angry, huh? Where’s this attitude coming from? Thought you were still scared of me?” He belittles her with a condescending tinge in his laugh. 

And she’s about to respond when out of the blue the ring of her doorbell reverberates around the house.  

They both tense.  

“You’re expecting someone?” His tone turns bleak, frigid; inducing shivers to litter across her arms as her head turns towards the source of the sound.  

”N— no. I’m not,” she stutters because truthfully, she doesn’t have a clue as to who could be at her door in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday.  

”Did you fucking call someone?” He takes a threatening step towards her and she panics.   

”No! I promise, I didn’t. I don’t even— you literally have my phone, remember?” She tries to fruitlessly defend herself.  

”I swear, if you’re lying right now—”  

”I’m not, okay? I didn’t call anyone!” She reassures once more, although it seems like he’s not even listening anymore. Therefore, she tries to be logical. ”I should— I should go and see who it is, right?” 

The icebound water in his eyes bores into her as he weighs out his options. 

”Right, right. Yeah, you should do that," he finally settles on. "But if you even consider telling them anything, I swear I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” He grits out into her face and she flinches when she can feel his harsh breaths hit her mouth with each syllable.  

She quickly nods before teetering towards the entrance of her home and twisting the lock with precarious fingers.

Soon, she’s standing in front of two men wearing police uniforms. 

”Oh, sorry for the wait. Was um…in the bathroom. How can I— uh, help you?” She tries to appear unfazed; inhaling slowly and doing everything she can in order to not look as guilty as she feels. 

”We apologize for the inconvenience but we’ve been assigned to ask around the island in order to locate a criminal who’s potentially a threat to our entire community,” one of them says and she thinks his jaded eyes are peering into her soul and seeing right through her rickety facade. 

”Have you seen this man recently?” The other guy dangles a picture of Rafe in the air. She takes a moment to properly look at the photo as to not answer too quickly.  

“N— no, sorry. Can’t say I have. Why? Who is that?” She bats her lashes in confusion as her poor heart thuds in her ribcage. She wonders if they can hear it. 

”This is Rafe Cameron. You might’ve heard about Cameron Development? He became the owner after his father’s death a few years back. And now we have reason to believe that he’s the main suspect for the murder of a fellow officer,” he states with a serious expression. 

”Oh, that’s…that’s terrible,” her eyes widen in shock because she had no idea Rafe was a Cameron. Of course, she’d heard everyone talking about what had happened with Ward Cameron and the rumors surrounding the gold but she’d never cared enough to dig through for more information about the rest of his family.  

”Seems like the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree considering what Ward did to Sheriff Peterkin,” the one with the piercing stare snickers and her brows furrow because she doesn’t think the topic is all that hilarious.  

”I remember watching that in the news when it was all happening. Didn’t you guys also arrest an innocent Pogue with no actual proof?” Her question is sharp because the whole case still itches her in the wrong way. 

”That was— listen, I wasn’t even here back then, it was all very tragic. But the investigation on this case is still ongoing and we have a reliable witness claiming they saw Rafe dragging something heavy near the ocean the night before we found the body washed up on the shore. And according to multiple sources Rafe was the last person seen with our coworker at the island club a few hours prior to his death,” the guy explains and she momentarily wonders if they’re even allowed to share this much classified information with her.  

”Right. Well, I really wish I could help you but I unfortunately haven’t seen him,” her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek and she wonders if they can tell that she’s lying. 

“At this point, it seems like no one has. We’re suspecting that he might’ve fled the country. Anyway, we’ve got orders to search every house but honestly, we don’t think he’d be on this side of the island. So, we’re not gonna waste our time on that. Call this number if you notice anything out of the ordinary, though?”  

”Yes, of course. I really wish there was more I could do to help. Hope you guys find him soon,” she offers them a tight smile.  

”We’ll do our best,” they assure her before the door finally closes.  

Her back slides down against the wood as her labored breathing begins to slow down. She closes her eyes in a moment of relief until she feels Rafe’s presence interfering with her peace.  

”Who knew you were such a good liar? Shouldn’t believe everything you say too easily then, should I?” His gaze travels down her form and he genuinely seems impressed.  

”You killed a cop?” She decides to ignore his teasing. 

”Relax. He was a sleazy bastard who was helping me with some side business and became too greedy. What can I say? Don’t like being used. But believe me, he was not a good person,” he answers her question, maybe for the first time ever. 

”Right, right,” she tries her very best to understand where he’s coming from but she doesn’t think she’s ever going to be able to justify ending someone’s life with such indifference. In her opinion, he doesn’t have the right to decide whether someone gets to live or not; no matter how good or bad of a person they are. 

”Listen, I didn’t mean to do it, it just…happened, okay?” He tries to explain himself and he almost sounds vulnerable. She nearly feels bad for him.  

”You know, I could go to jail for helping you!” She snaps when frustration bubbles to the surface instead.  

”Calm down, Pup. You’re not going to jail, alright? And watch that fucking tone, yeah?” His hands rest on his head as he begins to pace around the hallway.  

”I just— cops don’t care about Pogues. If they find out I lied to them they’re gonna put me behind bars cause unlike you, I don’t have the money to bail myself out,” she tries to pointlessly reason with him.  

”Already told you, nothing’s gonna happen to you, okay? Now can you shut the fuck up so I can think?” He demands, halting his movements.  

”Did they, uh, tell you anything?” He speaks up again and she tells him everything she remembers from the brief conversation while he mulls over his situation. 

”Right, right. So, they don’t actually have any real proof about me killing the guy? Just speculation,” he confirms.  

”I guess, yeah? But I don’t know if they even know all the details about the case,” she offers in response and can practically hear the wheels turning in his head.  

”They didn’t happen to mention who the witness was?”  

”N— no, why?” Her voice wavers as she swallows around the question. 

He lifts his head to inspect her reaction when he seems to have finally conjured up some sort of a plan to clear his name.  

”Think I’m gonna have to pay him a little visit. And you’re gonna help, aren’t ya?”

She would very much like to find out whatever sin she committed in a past life that weighed so heavily that it made her end up in a position as wretched as this one.

[jeonginslut]

what sex with them is like. . . ft. mark, chenle, & jisung of nct dream !

cw: nsfw (18+), minors dni, afab! reader, explicit sex, face fucking, switch!chenle, switch!reader

author's note: in honor of me missing dream >.< also dedicated to my very delusional best friends that i love

^ྀི MARK LEE

most of the time sex with mark is always sweet. he enjoys taking his time with you and making sure that YOU feel good. his pleasure isn’t something he’s too concerned about. when you feel good, he feels ecstatic. he would describe himself as a “man of pleasure”, and would never want you to even lift a finger to try to do anything to him.

he gets off on making you feel good, he loves that you’re a pillow princess.

however, every now and then, something in him will snap. he’d be so rough with you that bruises would appear on your skin the next day, his finger nails making indentations that he’ll always freshen up the next time.

pulling your hair, spanking you, biting you, pushing your head down on his dick, that’s the mark you really enjoy. of course his sweet demeanor in the bed room is always a delight, but when mark treats you like a slut, that’s what you really enjoy.

“fuck,” mark groaned, the grip on your hair tightening if that was even possible, “you’re like a bitch in heat.”

your eyes brimmed with tears from not only the tight grip, but also from the tip of his fat cock hitting the back of your throat. your hands wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach, eliciting groans from mark.

“fuck, i love you so much.” he squeezed his eyes shut as he continued to fuck your mouth.

^ྀི ZHONG CHENLE

chenle, contrary to mark, makes you work for everything. you want him to touch you? okay, he’ll touch you. his fingers will brush your arm, he’ll rest his hand against your thigh, wrap an arm around your waist and stroke your hip bone gently. he knows that’s not what you wanted, but you didn’t specify what you wanted.

when you would have enough of his teasing, you’d ask him to “touch you properly”

“i’m not sure what you mean?” he would whisper, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “i am touching you.”

a pathetic whine escaped from your lips, grabbing his hand and pushing it to the heat between your legs, “dont make me beg for it lele.”

without second thought, he snatched his hand back and turned back towards the television. not that he could really pay attention, he just didn't have the patience for any bratty behavior. ever.

"why did you stop?" you whined again, pulling on his sleeve to get his attention even though you knew why he did.

chenle didn't reply, keeping his eyes focused on the movie even though he really didn't fucking care about what was on the screen. he was thinking about how pathetic you were about to turn in order to get his attention.

"lele," you whispered, kissing down his neck to get some sort of reaction out of him, but of course, you didn't.

you were getting a bit frustrated despite knowing chenle's game. he always did this so you should be used to it, but you weren't.

that means you would have to sink to a level that you knew he would absolutely enjoy seeing you succumbed to.

fine, if that meant you could get what you want. untangling yourself from his limbs and straddling his lap. you had a plan.

chenle rolled his eyes at you, leaning his head to the side so he could continue to watch the tv. he had to fight back a smile because he knew you were going to give in.

instead of pouting or whining like you normally would, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your forehead against his.

"i know what you want me to do," you said, forcing eye contact, "but i'm not going to do that tonight, chenle."

the victory he thought he had immediately faltered and he narrowed his eyes, "you aren't?"

you shook your head before kissing down his neck once more, slowly moving your hips down against the erection starting to grow underneath you, "i think you should let me take charge for once, hm?"

^ྀི PARK JISUNG

normally when it came to sex, you were in charge. jisung liked when you told him what to do, how to make you feel good, how to make himself feel good. he loved being told what to do in the bedroom.

jisung absolutely went insane when you would choke him, it always pushed him over the edge.

so it surprised you when jisung asked you if he could take charge in the bedroom for once. to tell you what to do, to tell you how to please him, to choke you. he wanted to see what it was like.

and who were you to say no to your sweet boy?

it was like a switch was flipped when the day finally came.

you were on top of jisung in the backseat of his car, pushing your hips down to meet his growing bugle and tongue down his throat.

his fingers were gripping your waist in a bruising manner, groaning when you begin kissing down his neck and sucking dark hickeys into his skin.

"fuck, y/n," he whined, bucking his hips up to get some sort of relief from his aching boner, "stop teasing."

giggling sweetly, you continued kissing down to his collarbones and biting, "i said stop teasing."

you scoffed against his skin, pulling away and looking down at him, "since when did you start telling me what to do?"

jisung's jaw was tense, but instead of saying anything back, he quickly flipped you over and wrapped his hand around your throat.

"stop talking," he spat, hiking one of your legs loosely over his hips, "my turn."

he used the hand wrapped around your throat to slip his fingers in between your lips, forcing you to open your mouth and suck his lithe digits in.

jisung's eyes were dark with lust, starting to grind against your core, "it's my turn to be in charge."

[pjflmga]

little things, alessia russo x reader

summary: based on little things by one direction (big fan yup) where r is a bit insecure about certain things and alessia makes sure to let r know she loves everything about r.

a/n: just smth random i came up w while i’m writing on chicago p2 bc i’m currently stuck lol. wrote this in the middle of the night so don’t mind eventual mistakes… send in recs if you want to :)

wc: 2,3k ish

enjoyy

—————————————————————

you and alessia had been together for a long time now, with your 2 years anniversary coming up in only a few weeks. you loved doing things together, watching movies or series, going out for a walk or shopping. literally anything

football might be your biggest shared interest though, whether it was watching a game or playing it. but it was not hard to see who was playing professionally and who played in a normal sunday league.

alessia played football for a living, her days consisted of training on and off the pitch and of course football games against big, top teams, weekly. whereas you were working as a chef at a restaurant and only had training 2-3 times a week plus a game on the weekends.

despite the big difference of professionalism you played in, you both were each others biggest fan and supporter. you were at all arsenal’s home games and even some away games if possible, and alessia was at yours. of course if you or her didn’t have your own game at the same time, which occasionally happened.

alessia never looked down at you for not being a professional footballer, rather the other way around. she was happy and proud that you got to the two things you loved the most, cooking food during the days and playing football in the evenings. but even if alessia never had an opinion about this, didn’t mean you nor especially the fans highlighted this at times.

as you were the girlfriend of the top player and front face of the lionesses and arsenal, people didn’t shy away from sharing their ignorant opinions. when alessia saw a rude comment about you she would always delete it, before she read half of it and especially before you got the chance to even know about it. but since you were together with alessia, you had around 30k followers on instagram yourself and a lot of the ignorant comments ended up in your comment section as well.

you knew you shouldn’t care, but you couldn’t help but read every single negative comment about you. it was everything from you using alessia for her being famous and having a lot of money, to not being good enough for her and being an ugly and bad person. the comments about you only “using” her didn’t really bother you, as you and not to mention, alessia knew that it wasn’t true. but it was rather the comments about you being too ugly, or not that a good enough person for her that made you feel like the smallest person on earth.

this had been going on ever since you got together and the public eye found out about it. at first it didn’t bother you, but as time went on it started to get to you. the blonde and you had talked about it before, but even if you weren’t, you always made sure to say that you were fine.

as of lately alessia had started to notice that you were feeling a bit more tired and down than usually. at first she thought it was because of your job and how hectic it was. but she shortly after realised it was because of all comments on social media.

and with that she started to make more efforts than usually to make you feel as special and loved as you deserved, not to mention how she felt about you.

————————————

as a person in general, you were a bit insecure about yourself. you didn’t like certain things with your body or the way you looked.

as time passed alessia started to figure out more of your small insecurities, how every time she tried to make a short video with you, you always stayed quiet because you didn’t like the way your voice sounded on camera.

how you never got changed in front of her, despite being together for a long, long time. because you didn’t like how your stomach or thighs looked. she obviously had seen you without clothes before, but it was different when you changed and got dressed. it made you feel more conscious about the way you looked, in a way you didn’t like and therefore didn’t want alessia to see.

but also how you recently had stopped coming along to nights out and dinners with her team, because you were insecure or what other people would think. despite alessia always telling you how much the team loved you and wanted you there.

alessia knew these things made you insecure, but these were also the things she loved about you the most. the way you looked, the way you were, the way you smiled and laughed. your voice, your body. everything.

at first she didn’t want these little things to slip out, in case it made you more insecure. but she quickly realised the best way to make you feel more comfortable and confident, was to bring your insecurities up, subtly and in a reassuring way, one by one.

every time you smiled you got small crinkles by your eyes and for some reason fans started to point that out, together with your freckled cheeks. alessia didn’t understand, as she thought those were two of the cutest things about you, but you hated them.

now when she started to see the comments more often, she realised that was the reason why you started to cover your freckles up with makeup, and at least try to smile less. not that it really worked when you were with alessia, who stumbled around and laughed all the time.

“babe, you’re so beautiful today.” alessia said as the two of you got ready to head out for a little walk in the park. “why are you putting on makeup? you’re just as beautiful without it.” she smiled softly.

“i dunno.” you mumbled. “don’t really like my freckles.” you said lowly. with that alessia walked up behind you, where you sat by the desk in your shared bedroom, and hugged you tightly from behind.

“you.” kiss. “are.” kiss. “more.” kiss. “beautiful”. kiss. “than.” kiss. “anyone.” kiss. “else. ” kiss. “in.” kiss. “the.” kiss. “world.” the blonde said as she kissed you freckles.

“stoppp less, you’re ruining my makeup.” you said, but couldn’t help but feeling a smile creeping up in the corner of your mouth.

“nooo!!” she said. “i’m just making sure your natural beauty is showing.” she continued as she bombed kisses on you again. you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “there’s the beautiful smile of yours.” alessia said simply.

it took you another 20 minutes to get ready before your headed out. instantly when you stepped out of the port of your stairwell, alessia grabbed you hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“you know, your hands fits perfectly in mine.” the striker said softly.

“what do you mean less?” you asked confused, not quite catching what she meant.

“i don’t know, i just know it feels perfect to hold it in my hand.” she smiled with a chuckle. you nodded slowly, still not getting where she came from. but it was something with the way she had said it while squeezing your hand, that made you feel good. you felt yourself being thrown out of your thoughtss as alessia pulled you with her and started to walk towards the park, while babbling about her upcoming game against liverpool this weekend.

when you stopped in the middle of the park by a big tree alessia suggested that the two of you should make a tiktok together. a video where you’d have to rank her arsenal teammates.

“no i can’t do that.” you said with a laugh. “they’re gonna kill me.”

“noo, babe!! it’ll be fun, they will love it.” she laughed as she pulled up her phone.

“okay, just because i love you. but don’t post it!! i don’t uh, want people to hear my- to see what my ranking.” you said quietly.

“oh y/n, it’ll be fine. everyone will laugh at how pissed leah will be when she sees she’s not your number one.” alessia chuckled. “besides, everyone should get to hear that beautiful voice of yours when you explain your rankings.” she continued, subtly mentioning yet another insecurity. you instantly felt yourself relaxing a little when she said that. to be honest you hadn’t really realised that you had tensed up in the first place.

“let’s do this then, less.” you said as you grabbed her phone and started the ranking.

——————————

“i can’t believe you were about to put frida at number one.” alessia said with a grunt as you finished.

“well she is just the best, isn’t she?” you asked with a smile.

“well… no. i am supposed to be there, i swear if you weren’t with me right now, you would’ve put her as your number 1.” alessia answered with a unhappy voice.

“nooo babe, i’d never do that!!” you laughed. “you are obviously my number one!”

“and so are you y/n/n! you are my forever number one and i love you and everything about you.” the blonde said softly as she gave hugged you and kissed your cheek. “let’s post this and see how the girls reacts.” she continues as she posted the video.

just then she got a message from leah in the arsenal group chat, asking who’d be joining for dinner aka ordering food, and movie night at her place tomorrow night. a flood of “yes” and “me” came right away when alessia looked at you.

“you want to go?” she asked hopefully.

“uh i don’t know, don’t want to intrude your team bonding night.” you said lowly.

“no y/n babe, first you could never do that. the girls have been asking if you won’t being joining anytime soon anyways. and besides, it’s just movie night tmrw.” alessia explained as she took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“well, okay then i guess.” you said.

“YESSSS!!!” the england forward squealed as she sent a quick “me and y/n are coming!” to the group chat and right away an even bigger flood of “yes!”, “wohoo” and “finally” came.

as tomorrow evening eventually came around, you and the blonde got ready together. since it was just movie night and leah’s, you wouldn’t dress up fancy. so you grabbed a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt as you headed towards your bathroom to get changed. but before you managed to take a step alessia grabbed your arm and hugged you tightly.

“you know i don’t mind you changing clothes in front of me.” she said softly as she hugged you tighter.

“i know, it’s just uh me. i don’t know, it’s stupid. of course i should be able to change in front of my girlfriend of almost two years.” you said while you let go of alessia to look into her eyes.

“baby, it’s not stupid the way you feel. i just want you to know that i love you and i love every single thing about you. i love your eyes, your smile, how you look and oh my god, have you seen your body?” she said softly and you can’t help but smile a little. “if you don’t feel comfortable to change in front of me, i won’t stop you. but i want you to feel comfortable with me, no matter what. i don’t care what other people say or think and you shouldn’t either. because you are more perfect than anyone else. okay?” alessia continued.

all you could do was just stare at your girlfriends. you realised where she was coming from with all of this, but to be honest, it made you feel better. she was right, the only opinion you really cared about was hers, and you knew how much she loved you.

“i know, i just feel so self conscious and insecure sometimes. i wish i didn’t but i can’t help but being affected by it.” you answered.

“you know love, those things you are self conscious about, are some of the things i love the most you.” she said as she once again gave you one of her famous “lessi bear hugs”.

“yeah i know less, thank you so much.” you said hugging her back. after some time you finally let go of each other and you felt truly safe and loved by the striker. you took a deep breath and actually felt comfortable enough to change in front of your girlfriend.

all alessia could do was looking at you with the proudest smile ever. she was happy that her little side mission had worked out the way she wanted to, that you felt better about yourself and also felt more comfortable around her.

what took her by surprise though was that you for the first time in a long, long time didn’t cover up your freckles with makeup. all you did was curling your eyelashes and put on some mascara. alessia once again looked at you with the biggest and proudest smile as well as heart eyes. oh, that girl was head over heels for you.

“you’re so beautiful, my girl.” alessia said with a grin.

when you 20 minutes later arrived at leah’s house and went to knock on the door, it was instantly opened by a not super happy looking leah.

“how dare you not put as number 1 and not even number 2, but 3 on your list, miss?” she said while giving you a stern look, but you could hear the teasing in her voice.

“told you…” alessia whispered in your ear lowly, with a laugh. “i’ll leave the two of you to figure this out.” she continued and walked into great the rest of the team.

“well hello to you too leah…” you laughed. “i guess i just don’t love you as much as less.”

“okay that’s fair BUT YOU PUT FRIDA OVER ME??” leah shouted.

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i almost put frida above lessi. but then i wouldn’t have had a place to sleep in.” you laughed.

after some back and forth you finally settled on a fair ranking where, spoilers, leah ended up as your number 1. then leah finally let you into her house and let you in with a happy smile over a face so you could greet the other arsenal players there.

the night was amazing, just what you needed. you felt safe around alessia and her teammates and you didn’t feel like you were in the way and disturbing them. they made you laugh all the time, and now the crinkles by your eyes didn’t bother you anymore.

even if alessia’s mission was accomplished, she didn’t stop reminding you how much she loved you. everything about you. that the little things you were subconscious about, made you to the amazing person that you were and the person alessia loved so much.

[thenamesblurrito]

so. Transformers ONE was a good movie

i HIGHLY recommend going in blind, i do think it's incredibly effective with as few spoilers as possible beforehand! seeing it on the big screen is really really nice too, i encourage you to watch it in theaters without reading up on it first if you can!

long full-spoiler review and dissection of elements below (i reached the text block limit a couple times oops):

general stuff:

gorgeous. just genuinely visually gorgeous. so many details, colors, textures, everything was so beautiful. the stylization itself may not be my favorite but it was executed so well that i ended up loving it. their optics! their colors! their movement! the way the visuals serve the lore and the story is extremely well done too, i felt like everything i was seeing was deliberate, relevant, and a treat for the audience instead of just "ooo visual noise look at how powerful our cgi rendering is" (which is how i felt about the "live action" Lion King prequel(????) ad they showed before). all the little cameos and repaints and everything in the background? mwah. GORGEOUS MUSIC TOO AAAA THE WAY THAT TFP'S MOTIF IS IN THERE AAAA

the visual effects and action, the way they USED their roboticness/transformation sequences/vehicle modes in fighting and moving and emoting, it was VERY GOOD. Orion grabs a Death Tracker and RIPS THEM INTO PIECES BY TRANSFORMING AROUND THEM AND FORCING THEIR FRAME TO SHATTER. insanity

this is ABSOLUTELY the origin story movie the fandom has wanted. even if it wasn't your preferred origin story, this movie SHONE with love and respect for the franchise and drew on so many influences to craft a powerful version of the beginning we all wanted to see

in some ways i wish we had more, i think it would've been extremely effective to see things expanded upon, especially D-16's emotional descent and maybe some more Quints. actually looking at the content and pacing of the movie though, and the audience it's aimed at, i don't think there's anything they should've cut in favor of other stuff. i understand why it wasn't dwelt on more, but hooooo i would've liked to see Dee breaking apart a little more thru the middle of the film. apparently the novelization has more scenes of this and i would love to read it

i had so much fun watching this movie. it was a rollercoaster. it was a TREAT. i was sitting there enjoying every second both times i saw it because it was a good film that rewarded me greatly for being a Transformers fan, giving me so many easter eggs and injokes, while also being perfectly understandable and fun for a complete newbie. excellently balanced appeal to old and new fans alike

there was no wink to the audience about how stupid and childish a movie about robots is, there was no lampshading of how silly sci fi is, there was no betrayal of the emotional tone of the film. so many stories now kneecap themselves by mocking their very concept, and the audience watching them, in a very cinema sins-style irony poisoned way. this movie never does that. its humor is fitting, its drama is real, its emotion is all SINCERE and i love how i was never mocked by any part of the movie for engaging with it sincerely

this movie loved being a Transformers movie

anyways. specific stuff:

love how Wheeljack managed to explode everything despite not even being a scientist. he's just THAT good

THE INJOKES AND REFERENCES. "you don't have the touch OR the power." calling them Gobots. the corny More Than Meets The Eye bits. "don't be a glitch" is a headcanon swear i've been using for years now and they canonized it!! "High Guard, eject". "paging doctor Ratchet." the new take on "all are one". the really interesting way that the term Transformers is an actual significant in-universe name, and how Orion and Dee ARE NOT Transformers at first!

the sheer number of cameos is ASTOUNDING. what an excellent mix of masc/fem designs too, they really made it normal on this Cybertron which i appreciate! apparently Blurr exists here, his name was on the leaderboard!!!!!! good job Chromia i am so proud of you for winning. and the shots of the bots getting cogs at the end was aaAAA!!! <<33 my HEART! Jazz's little smile looking at his new doorwings!!

I GOT ALL MY SILLY OLD DEMIGOD FAVES I GOT THE THIRTEEN EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM AAAAAA ALPHA TRION MY GRANDPA god i'm so sorry you're dead but i can't believe you showed up on the big screen <<333 you and your rockin rhino unicorn lion alt mode. and your superpowers. god you're so cool. "old timer" NUH UH HE'S STILL BETTER THAN YOU!!!!! using Zeta for the thirteenth was an interesting choice! i did think he was Overlord for a hot second. it's the lips. Solus wasn't fridged by virtue of everyone else died too yippee!! ALSO MEGATRONUS THE COOLEST ONE WOOOO HES NOT JUST A FIERY EVIL GUY!!!!

the way Dee himself was, in a way, the Fallen of this continuity.... 😭

the way Sentinel was handcrafting his downfall with each touch of the blowtorch. carving the sigil of the Decepticons into the one who will kill him. dooming Cybertron in a moment of petty mockery. AND HE DOESN'T EVEN DRAW IT WELL IT'S LIKE A MESSY CRAYON DRAWING CMON

planetformer Primus in a blockbuster movie? CANONICAL EXPLICITLY STATED PLANETARY ROBO MPREG BIRTH IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES???? THEY USE THE WORD BIRTH. BORN. we are never escaping the reproductive insanity in this franchise

Shockwave you whiny tantrum throwing wuss. let Elita beat him up more. it's good for him. also love how that could be construed as a ref to her G1 resistance force

CASUAL MIND READER SOUNDWAVE???????

Elita was perfect, no notes. i would not like her if i met her but i respect her so much. she really is better in every way and down to business. Best First indeed

so much cool implications and fascinating timeline confusion. 50 cycles since the Primes were slaughtered? the way Sentinel leveraged their reputation to make himself beloved, casting himself as their peer? the way he didn't choose to villainize them, the way he apparently openly admitted to the loss of the Matrix and how it impacted the planet? when did cog theft start, and how old is Orion since in the novelization it states his entire generation is cogless? who remembers the og Primes? who is in the know about it all?? hoooghhghhh fascinating.

the implication that the High Guard worked with the og Primes?? the possibility STARSCREAM was a loyal guard for Cybertron's DEMIGODS????

okay i was not expecting a backstory for STARSCREAM'S VOICE in this movie but holy. god. the shippers will be going insane over this one. hoogh holy fit. what is wrong with you. the utter contradiction of being both an instigator and a coward when he gets in over his head and immediately backpedals

also obviously this is the I Love Divorce movie and megop shippers will be having a field day but i DEEPLY appreciate just how solid a friendship Dee and Orion have and how badly they fall apart, even thru a strictly platonic lens. i also appreciate how there was no forced comphet attraction/romance!! i was dreading the possibility of it, i mean Oplita was RIGHT THERE but they didn't force it at all thank youuuuuu. i would rather have this dynamic with its zero intended romance than awkward, OOC attraction shoehorned in to detract from the plot

Bee was actually good! like yeah he's def the kid appeal character and i prefer it when he's in a younger gen and not OP's peer, but he was wayyyyy less annoying than i was expecting! i think he fit the movie and did his job in it well, and i absolutely laughed at him multiple times. "i get to work for the GOVERNMENT! :DDDD" bee. please. the fact that he's been going insane and desperate after isolation for so long really helps make his character work instead of being just irritating

Airachnid you are so cool. you are TOO COOL. PLEASE TONE DOWN YOUR COOLNESS. i adore how she is not good at facial expressions thank you evil autism moments. love how her signature move is stabbystabbystabbystabbystabbystabby

Sentinel. god. Sentinel. SENTINEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i need to draw him getting ripped in half. it's like they distilled the worst parts of every single iteration and combined them into a SuperBad version. horrifically realistic kind of guy. i love to hate him. real Metro Man from Megamind energy. and megachurch pastor energy. the IRONY that Orion and Dee were probably actually helping him, that he was probably being genuine in the medbay when he said he loved what they did by racing, that he may have been honest when he said he was gonna have them fixed up in his own facilities and had them tour the mines! because them racing increased energon production by 150% and Sentinel needed that!!! he needed that for the Quintessons!!! i think he was being genuine when he first met Dee and Orion and then Darkwing ruined everything!!!

Darkwing is the curly straw of this continuity

the Quintessons were hoooooooooooooooo. whoooooooooogh. hoohhhhhhhhhhhh. the biomechanical. the shapes. the textures. eugh. icky. creepy. excellent. the way their ships looked like the Nemesis. the way they're STILL a looming threat. i wanted to see more of them but i get why the movie wasn't about them. i hope we see more in the future

the way Orion is the kind of guy who, in an attempt to be selfless, keeps making selfish or thoughtless decisions was SO INTERESTING. it set up the dynamic of his and Dee's friendship very well, with Orion always wanting the best for his buddy but ultimately overwriting or ignoring what Dee says!! the way Dee clings to the social contract of protocol for safety because that's all he knows and his ANGER when it's broken, even when it's Orion breaking it, because that's not SAFE it's an UNKNOWN it has CONSEQUENCES WHEN YOU DEVIATE. and then it's revealed that the social norms have been a lie the whole time and Sentinel has "broken protocol" more than ever and Dee has no safety left because it was always broken. Orion wanted to be more, he could feel there was more. Dee just wanted security

Dee spent so much of the movie complaining and arguing and it was very funny and good characterization but it was also a hint at how much bitterness was under there the whole time. so much of his complaints were threats of violence. he always had Orion's back and then when he learns the truth he abruptly. stops. do you notice he doesn't really have Orion's back after this? he's no longer by his side? he's there, but he's not... there. he was the first to shoot an enemy and took joy in it. all of his emotions were so justified and then what he does with them is what makes it a tragedy. he didn't have to do this. augh

i really, really like the fact that they managed to pull off the ending without it fully turning into a "boohoo if we do anything violent we're as bad as the bad guys waaaa". the specific phrasing of "rebuilding cannot start with an execution" went HARD. and it's demonstrated in their actions too like, Dee was out for REVENGE and it was PERSONAL, Orion was fighting for JUSTICE and it was UNIVERSAL. Sentinel was beaten, everyone knew the truth. it was over. but Dee in his (very justified!) anger and broken trust was too overcome to back down. they were given the power to change their worlds, but Dee was thinking only of his world. Orion was thinking of everyone

ironic that as soon as Orion starts thinking of other people and considering what they need instead of forging ahead, Dee decides to center his own feelings and actions to the point of murder. even after Sentinel was dead, he just kept shooting, he did NOT AT ALL care that some of those shots were clearly hurting innocent civilians/going wide and shooting out into the city/damaging actual important infrastructure and not just Sentinel statues. i believe it's Bee who said "he's gonna kill everyone" and he proves it by attacking Elita and saying "I won't stop until every last one of his followers is dead". THE FACT THAT HE FELL SO FAR AS TO SEE ELITA, HIS PEER AND FELLOW FREEDOM FIGHTER WHO WAS THERE WORKING AGAINST SENTINEL WITH HIM FROM THE START OF THIS QUEST, AS ONE OF SENTINEL'S FOLLOWERS.... by the end of it, Dee really was nothing but blind anger

and the way kneeling was a common thread!!!!! aaaaaaa. Sentinel betrayed the world by kneeling to the enemy. Dee won respect by refusing to kneel. Orion gained followers by willingly kneeling to his peers. hooghh

Orion jumping and stumbling and falling this whole movie because he just THROWS himself into things because he BELIEVES in things, he's the one to take leaps of faith, to take that step out into the unknown! and Dee refusing to save him as one final nail in the coffin, so clearly feeling like Orion jumping in front of the blast was yet ANOTHER way Orion is forcing his hand, corralling him into doing something he thinks is best but did not consult him on, finally FINALLY saying NO and leaning in to the tragedy!! and in the exact same way Sentinel handcrafted his enemy in Dee, Dee has now handcrafted his enemy in Orion!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and now that Orion took that last leap of faith and fell, now is when he RISES. ONE SHALL FALL AND ONE SHALL RISE. god. it reminds me of Spiderverse, the way they use falling and rising

the way the tragedy is worse for how well everyone was working together.... for one shining moment, the miners and the High Guard, the rescue mission, it was going so well. they were doing it. they were winning. it didn't have to turn to slaughter. if there was to be an execution it should've been by trial, by the voice of the people, not Dee deciding for Cybertron as Sentinel decided what truth was. augh.

in an abruptly different note, the way they have characters move and fly is so cool. i love the jetpacks. i love how flight is not "flyer" exclusive. it's fascinating and i think really fitting for the general city of Iacon itself. all those towers going up and down

THE TRAINS!! THE MOVING ROADS!! HOW COOL IS THAT!! LOOK AT THAT WORLDBUILDING IM OBSESSED WITH THIS CYBERTRON HOOGH. this movie was VERY good at building a rich, functional world of detail and making it very alien in a way i want to chew on forever. the moving mountains and greebled energon mines. the living planet. the deer!!! ooghghh. PRIMUS LOOKS LIKE A STAR

i do like this Primus actually, yeah it was a deus ex machina but that's the POINT. Optimus himself is an act of god and his presence heralds miracles. Dee couldn't bring justice to Cybertron because justice is restoration. justice is healing what was hurt and doing right by the wronged. yes that often means consequences upon the perpetrator but that's NOT what Dee was doing, he wasn't even THINKING of anyone else!! would killing Sentinel get ppl out of the mines? would it restore their cogs? would it bring equality to a clearly oppressive society? like he LIVED this (cogless bots with limited options, the talk of tiers as if they are social castes you can be demoted from, lower city levels where ppl can be banished, etc) but it was Orion who ultimately addressed this. i'm sorry if it feels like insult to injury to rub his Primacy in your face, Megatron, but stealing a cog just like Sentinel and declaring the age of Primes over, when it was the age of Primes ending that made you cogless and oppressed in the first place, is only an extension of your trauma, anger, and violence, and is not solving the problem!

a cog stolen from him at birth! and then he steals it from Sentinel in symbolic revenge, stolen again, but even that wasn't Sentinel's, it was stolen too! the way he discards the cog from Onyx, willingly gifted to him, to continue the trend of desecrating the dead! man. MAN. the name he took, the cog he took, the symbol he took, all from his hero, the one he looked up to, the coolest Prime, and THEN DECLARED THE AGE OF PRIMES OVER

the gilded pompous showmanship of it all was so gross, the way Sentinel's face was everywhere, the way he had instant access to everyone in Iacon via announcements that took over the media. but this was clearly derived from the previous Primes!! we see their statues, we see their stately tower, and unless Sentinel had all that built in "mourning" (which is totally plausible imho) he was really just setting himself up as an inheritor of that hyperwealthy standard! we don't know anything about the rule of the og Primes beyond that they're favorably remembered and loved (possibly because of propaganda but i think it was also genuine) and that they may have been losing the Quint war (considering that info was from jerkwad supreme i find it suspect) but just by comparison to Sentinel i think they HAD to be better rulers. there weren't cogless bots forced to mine for 20 shifts in a row back then!!! Sentinel is stealing their aesthetic as if that gets him the same power and acclaim. he's trying to steal their legitimacy. he paints himself across the face of Iacon to hide the fact the planet itself went into a coma because of him. he has ALWAYS been rejected. i call him a megachurch pastor but really symbolically i could say he's a fallen angel, and his visual design really fits too

i'm coming back to the deus ex machina thing bc i know it may be considered weak in a plot construction sense but i want to engage with it as literal. like, there is a literal in-universe god in the machine. they know it. they worship it, at least a little bit. i would consider this story to be analogous to Prince of Egypt, in that the deific is a real and tangible character with impact on the plot, and not a meta excuse to save the day. Orion made his choice, and as a result Primus made HIS choice. it's not necessarily a happy ending but if even Megatron acknowledges that GOD mandated this guy to be a Prime and the planet itself responds by COMING BACK TO LIFE.... i keep thinking of it like a cityspeaker, how they're the ones who commune with Titans to know their needs and tell them what needs to be done. is a Prime just the cityspeaker of Cybertron, able to help it remain healthy and functional?

the divine right to rule is REAL on Cybertron. you can like it or not but you have to contend with that when discussing fair leadership, political accountability, and representation of the masses re: Cybertronian government and Primacy

god i'm still so obsessed with the Thirteen i need to see them better i need to look at them. i love them. insane. i really need to invest in a chewtoy

also i know it may be a throwaway line but i'm very curious why Primus had to transform and sacrifice himself to save the universe. Unicron, maybe???

also how did Alpha Trion narrate the archival stuff telling the fake story of how the Primes died and the Matrix was lost. did Sentinel get a deepfake of his voice?? is that part of how he made the transition to power?? AUGH THE DISRESPECT KEEPS COMPOUNDING

Alpha Trion. my blorbo. my old man. holding you so tight. like an ancient rescue dog. im gonna groom you and give you treats and buy the biggest plushest dog bed from costco for you

anyways

good movie, guys

[chippedshake]

Ponyboy stands in front of the mirror, fifteen and one month old. His hair is longer than it used to be, and the still-blond tips brush his shoulders.

There are scissors in his hands.

"Glory, he looks different with his hair like that."

Ponyboy squeezes his eyes shut, hands gripping the sink for balance. The metal scissors clang against it.

"It used to look tuff. You and Soda had the coolest-lookin' hair in town."

He tries to imagine himself a year and a month ago. Squared off in the back, long at the front and sides. It looked real tuff.

He'd complained so much when he had to cut it off, making everything impossible for Johnny, and now he can't make himself bring it back to normal?

"Oh, come on, Ponyboy, it'll grow back."

It did. And now he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Oh shoot, it's just hair."

The front door slams open.

"Honey, I'm ho-ome!"

"I never shoulda showed you that," Steve grumbles

"Well, ya did, and now ya gotta deal with it." Ponyboy can hear the grin in Soda's voice.

Loud footsteps go into the kitchen.

"Hey, ain't Pony s'pposed to be home already?"

"Prolly is, just up in his room with a book. Wouldn’t notice a twister a foot away if he was reading."

Steve snorts. "You up for a game of cards?"

"Sure. I gotta go change first though."

"Ya mean you gotta go stick an ace in your shoe?"

"Somethin' like that."

Soda's voice trails away as he makes his way to his room, but Steve's has grown closer and closer, and Ponyboy knows he's going to see him and ask questions that he doesn't want to answer, but he can't move from where his hands still grip the sink, scissors trapped against it.

"Hey, kid." Ponyboy looks up and meets Steve's eyes through the mirror. He's standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, whole body tense with discomfort, his face drawn with the same worry that strings through his voice. "You want me to get Soda?"

Ponyboy shakes his head and tries to subtly wipe his eyes. It'd be a new low to cry in front of Steve.

Steve's eyes flicker from Ponyboy's face to the scissors in his hand and his ungreased hair. He grimaces when he notices the tears, like he's not sure what to do with them.

"You know, cutting it off don't mean you'll forget them. You've still got a lotta memories that ain't in your hair. Better ones, too."

Steve's tone is matter-of-fact, but soft, softer than it's ever been. To Ponyboy, at least.

Like how Dally's voice reached a high, pleading tone it'd never reached before when they were speeding down that dirt road.

"I know..." Ponyboy whispers, and Steve leans in to hear him better. "It's just the last thing I got from them."

"That ain't true," Steve says. "You got both of their jackets and that book y'all read in the church. You even got the pictures you drew of them."

"Yeah, I know. It just ain't the same." His voice still won't come out above a whisper, but Steve seems to hear him just fine.

"Shoot, kid, I know that." He steps forward and sits down on the closed toilet seat. "But you can't live your life for them. They're gone. And they ain't comin' back. If you wanna remember 'em the right way, you gotta forget them sometimes."

Ponyboy thinks about the last year. About his bookmark that's been on page 118 for five months because Johnny would never get to read any pages after. About all the movie posters he's seen come and go because it wouldn’t be the same to watch them without Johnny. About the blade that's always in his back pocket that he can't stand to look at. About the time he brawled with Curly and then started crying because Dally had been the one to teach him how to throw a punch.

About how every time he looks in the goddamn mirror, he gets scared by his own reflection and remembers the church.

Maybe Steve's right. Maybe if he wants to start living normally again, he needs to forget them sometimes.

"This just ain't us. It's like being in a Hallowe'en costume we can't get out of."

Johnny might never get out of his costume, but Ponyboy could. And he would do it. For Johnny. Because he wouldn’t want Ponyboy to live as a shell of who he once was.

But when he meets his own eyes in the mirror, he knows he can't bring himself to do it.

"Steve, you ever cut hair before?"

He looks up in surprise, and for a moment Ponyboy's scared he's going to laugh at him. Then he stands up and holds his hand out for the scissors.

"Can't imagine it's harder'n fixin' up a car."

[parkerloves]

BACK AGAIN || PG10 x Fem!Reader

paring: boyfriend!pierre gasly x actress!fem!reader;

trope: second chance

summary: after a photo with her and her next co-star being way too close for a scene pierre ends up listening to the wrong people until his girlfriend go see him

fc; emily rudd

warnings: mention of cheating even though no one cheats

A photo had taken over the covers of every magazine that relied on gossip and one name was repeated in every headline: Lovelle Cartier, a young actress known for her contribution to the world of horror and for dating a certain pilot with whom she shared nationality, but this time there was no talk of a new date or a movie, but the photo showed the young actress very much attached to a man who was still unknown.

⠀—Pierre please don't be an idiot and pick up the fucking phone —The young woman mumbled sitting on the bed in her hotel room just before it went to voicemail—

Nothing that was being said about her was even the slightest bit close to reality, and that was exactly why she wanted to talk to the one who had been her partner for the previous two years, even though right now she wouldn't even take a call from him, although on the third try she was able to get an answer.

⠀—Love, don't try anymore.... —Those were the first words she heard from the Frenchman, and the chestnut knew at that moment that he had been crying or at least screaming— I've been trying, I really have, I didn't care about any of your relationships in movies and stuff, but I guess it's true what they say that if you fake something it ends up being real....

Those were the last things Lovelle heard before the sound of the phone call ending reached her ears, causing all the frustration and sadness that had been building up since that stupid picture had started circulating on the internet. But of course Love wasn't going to let it end like that, and she knew she wasn't the only one when the device in her hand vibrated again although this time another name appeared on the screen, and recognizing it she was quick to accept the call and began speaking.

⠀—It's not what you think, fuck Charles... I would never hurt him, you know that.... —She mumbled so fast that she even seemed not to be understandable at certain moments, so she had to be interrupted by her friend—.

⠀ —I know Love, I know... But you've messed up, you know that right? I don't know what happened but don't leave him like this —The young actress had already stood up and had started pacing around the room as she always did when she was nervous and wanted to take the stress off her mind—.

⠀—I'm going to catch a plane, I don't know when I'll get there, in a couple of hours I guess, please take care of him while I go, I can't lose him, not him —She mumbled while her breathing made the pretence of recovering its normal rhythm, without much success—.

⠀—Don't do anything stupid, okay? If you come he's going to listen to you, he can't not listen to you —The girl nodded on the other end of the line and luckily Charles knew the young woman too well to know her reflexes in those situations— I'll wait for you at the hotel yes? I'll pick you up when you arrive

Shee didn't even wait a few seconds before hanging up and going to book the earliest flight she could, without even worrying about the price of it all, and if she already hated airports as usual, now that she only had a fucking image in mind it was certainly worse.

The flight was interminable, especially because in each of the magazines that were on that plane there was that stupid picture next to a more irritating headline that seemed to have been created just to hurt, but luckily that nightmare only lasted two hours before arriving at the Italian peninsula where the whole grid was now.

<<send me the address of the hotel, my cab arrives in 5 minutes>> she wrote in the Monegasque's chat as she didn't even have the patience to wait for it to arrive and smiled when she received that link that he didn't take long to send to the one who would be her driver, arriving at his destination in a matter of less than half an hour.

⠀—Charles, they won't let me into the hotel, I guess they think I'm a fan or something —She didn't even bother to greet the young man as she had her mind occupied with many other things—.

⠀—I'll be right down for you, I left Pierre with Yuki, he already knows the whole situation, and thank goodness he knows you and supports you —Charles luckily didn't take too long to appear on the other side of the door, dragging the young girl inside the building, hugging her when they were both already under the roof, letting her best friend have at least some time to calm down from all that, noticing after a few seconds later his shirt was getting wet on the side of his chest—.

⠀—Can I go see him? Although I don't know if it's the best option.... But if you ask him to come to see me he's not going to do it.... —She murmured still against his friend's chest before he covered his mouth to stop him from talking for a second—

⠀—He's in his room, he doesn't know it, but he needs you now more than ever —He grabbed the young woman's face with both hands to raise his gaze to hers, causing the French woman to only nod—.

As soon as they arrived at the door where Alpha Tauri's drivers were, Charles called Yuki to leave the room but to leave the door closed behind him, and it was at that moment when the fear took hold of the young woman and she flinched for a few milliseconds before the green-eyed man pushed her into the room. 

The image inside broke the young woman's will even more strongly at that moment, for she had only ever seen her boyfriend in that condition, and she would never have allowed herself to be the one responsible for something like that.

But it was then that those blue eyes came out of the hiding place they had found, in the hands of their very owner and would meet the blonde's, generating a grimace of confusion in the boy before it changed to anger.

⠀—What are you doing here? You didn't have to come and you know it, you didn't have to waste your time —She had never heard him address her in that way, but now there was no turning back and he planned to fight for what he wanted—.

⠀—Don't do that please —She took a few steps in the Frenchman's direction although she still kept her distance as she knew she shouldn't push him at that moment— I need you to listen to me, I only ask you for a few minutes and I'll leave later if that's what you want —She murmured feeling once more the blond's blue orbs on her—.

⠀—I shouldn't be giving you this opportunity, you know that, right? —That was the signal for Lovelle to move a few steps closer and then kneel down in front of the bed since it was practically impossible for the young woman not to be close to him, despite the fact that she wanted to give him a little bit of space as well—.

⠀—And you know I would never cheat on you, right? Yet here we are... Because I'm stubborn as fuck and I'm not going to lose you for a stupid picture —Her tone of voice was soft, beacause yes, she was frustrated and even angry, but he had more rights to be like that and she accepted it since she just wanted to have him back—.

⠀—Why weren't there cameras? —Those were the only words that came out of the boy's mouth in the form of a soft mumble after that little speech from his girlfriend, since a part of him of course wanted to believe her but let's just say that there wasn't much evidence in her favor—.

⠀—It's going to sound really bad.... But it's the shitty angle —She said and as soon as she realized that her words would probably be worthless at that moment she decided to look for some more decisive picture on her phone, but a hand interrupted his search—

⠀—No, fuck what's happening to me? You shouldn't have to be the one looking for ways for me to believe you? I don't know what was going through my head —He move the phone away from the blonde's field of vision before grabbing her face caressing her cheeks— Mine's going to sound really bad too, but I guess the shitty race I've had hasn't helped at all —His tone was soft again and her breathing was slowly returning to normal—.

⠀—I was planning to call you as soon as I finished work, I saw your DNF as soon as Chris alerted me —The distance between them was slowly getting shorter and it seemed that nothing of the last few hours had passed, which honestly was a relief for both of them—.

⠀—Let me take you to dinner today, there's a restaurant on the shore and hopefully you can watch the sunset —The Frenchman remembered one of his girlfriend's favorite things and seeing how a smile formed on her face, he couldn't help but bring their lips together in search of one of those kisses he had had to learn to share, but luckily not the feeling in them— I'm sorry

⠀— I think we both are sorry —She mumbled a few inchies away from his lips—

[crochetspanners]

tw/warning: just a little bit of smut, but nothing really else. !If you don’t like it don’t read! (rude comments will be blocked 😋)

girlfriend!Ellie who loves to cuddle, always just wanting to be close to you. You guys could fall asleep normally and wake up to Ellie face smushed against your chest with drool rolling down the side of her mouth, it was kind of disgusting but since it was Ellie you found it adorable.

girlfriend!Ellie who is such a baby when on her period, always wanting to be babied and cuddled all day. whining and crying when she had cramps and you weren’t there to rub her back (poor baby ☹️)

girlfriend!Ellie who’s not the mean, cold, jealous type many people portray her as. (Don’t get me wrong I be eating up those type of fics) she’s just a sweet, cute loving girl who wants to spoil and make you laugh :(

girlfriend!Ellie where if she does get jealous, she’s not gonna drag you home and strip your clothes off and fuck you senseless while demanding to say you’re hers. But instead, she gets nervous and quiet, fidgeting with her ring and pinky finger and looking anywhere but you

girlfriend!Ellie who is then silent on the car ride home, looking out the window and trying to not let herself cry. “What’s wrong baby?” You asked, not understanding why she was so silent instead of her usual blabbering. “Nothing” she muttered, a hand coming to wipe away a tear that escaped. “Cmon els, tell me” you insisted, when stopped at a red light you leaned over to cup her face so she looked over at you. “it’s just— at the bar that guy was flirting with you, and it made me feel bad about myself..” she whispered, letting out a sigh and rubbing her tears away. She was starting to feel pathetic.

girlfriend!Ellie But once you heard that it tugged at your heart. You genuinely didn’t realize he was flirting with you. “Aww baby, I’m sorry that it made you feel that way” you cooed, you felt so bad since knowing Ellie wasn’t always one to get mad at you or anything.

girlfriend!Ellie when you got home you made sure to drop all the chores you had and changed into some comfy clothes, get some ice cream and cuddle into bed with you and Ellie’s matching pajamas and watch a movie until you guys fell asleep (ok me n who?)

girlfriend!Ellie who is such a sweetheart during sex, always asking you if that felt good. Or if it was enough pressure. “this okay? Yeah feel good, baby?” She would asked, fingers rubbing on your clit as you mewed in pleasure

girlfriend!Ellie who is very big on aftercare, immediately cleaning you up, making sure you’re comfy. Getting you food and water, you insist on saying you’re fine but she never listens. Always making sure her princess is okay.

A/N: idk what this is, it’s 4am (someone help)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[transingthoseformers]

So I was thinking more about your TF One B-127 ask and like, I think we were too quick to dismiss him as being sent to Robo-Hell for being a clumsy yapper.

If you think about it, I think B-127's fate is what Orion Pax's would have been, had he not had D-16 helping to cover his aft.

B mentions being 'too good at his jobs', can name several members of the High Guard on sight, shows a lot of tactical intelligence (the escape to the surface plan that kind of insinuates he's done it at least once, offering up energon to Alpha Trion, etc), and yeah, while a lot of that could be circumstance...

Think about it, if he's good enough at his work, then he'll wind up with a lot of free time and with his curiosity, he found ways to indulge that. Likely by breaking into the archives like how Orion did, but probably just to find stuff to read instead of Orion's drive to figure out more about the Matrix.

He's curious and observant and we also never once hear him referred to as 'Bumblebee', just 'B' or 'B-127' or (deep sigh) Badassitron. He normally gets the 'Bumblebee' name because he's a bumbler/clumsy, resulting in 'Bumbling B-127' or 'Bumble-B' for short. But we never get that in this movie; in fact, I don't recall anyone referring to him as clumsy in movie, just us fans when talking about it.

And we find him all the way down on a floor that both D-16 and Orion Pax were sure didn't exist (they only knew up to floor 40 after all), and B's showing a lot of signs of instability due to long periods of isolation and low stimulation, such as his 'coworkers'. Think about it, if he ever got out of that little room and back up to where all the other bots are, would anyone ever believe him? Even D-16 and Orion Pax immediately started treating him very gently and with caution right after being dumped into his cell.

So yeah, he knew too much or he knew the wrong things and was considered a risk to Sentinel's leadership, so down to Robo-Hell he went to be forgotten about and driven insane from isolation so that no one would ever believe him, if B didn't off himself first via convyer belt into incinerator.

And again, I fully believe this would have been Orion Pax's fate as well, had he not had a friend like D-16 watching out for him all the time.

Honestly you might be right here, tf1 Bee is more competent than we're giving him credit for

... how interesting would it be if Bee did get in trouble for yapping, but in a "he's talking about some very sensitive topics Sentinel has an interest in suppressing" kind of way?

I'm assuming he's going to take on the name Bumblebee in the future, perhaps?

Calling it a cell is absolutely right because I'm a way it totally is one

That would be so interesting

[haloburns]

the mile high job is, hands down, one of the fucking BEST episodes in the entire series

i saw a post talking about that poor flight attendant and how fucking FUNNY the episode would be from her pov, but like. there is so much happening in this episode that is pure gold

parker playing flight attendant and being TERRIBLE at it, and the other attendant just.....being annoyed with her but not bothering to correct her or say anything. she is NOT paid enough for this bullshit

eliot just...being an air marshal. being grumpy and disgruntled the ENTIRE flight. telling that guy to watch the movie instead of watching eliot rifle thru other people's belongings with ZERO explanation of what he's doing. fighting a dude in an PLANE BATHROOM and then stealing his knife

nate and sophie having a marital dispute the ENTIRE EPISODE and not really being much help overall

and hardison... hardison MY BELOVED he's playing office and he's having the time of his LIFE. getting in by pretending to be a maintenance guy who doesn't speak english. gaslighting the guy who got off the elevator next to him into thinking he's just being racist when he (correctly) concludes that hardison and the maintenance guy are the same person. hijacking a meeting and running it well. redirecting everyone by pretending its his birthday. wearing the silly hat while wrapping up the con. pretending to get fired so he has an exit. DOING HIS JOB SO WELL THAT HE MAKES CHERYL BELIEVE HE'S ACTUALLY WORKED THERE THE ENTIRE TIME.

and then, of course, there's the whole "landing a plane on an ocean highway" that never fails to give me cold chills bc like. imagine ur drivin down that highway, normal thursday, when u hear a plane overhead. not unusual, but it sounds a little close.... and then you fucking SEE the plane pass over you REALLY FUCKING CLOSE before coming to a stop just ahead of u

truly one of my favorite episodes of all time

[nameless-ken]

Between Us and the Dark - Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part One

I've had lots of different thoughts lately and needed to get this one out there. I think it might be a short series!

Please comment & reblog <3

Word count: 4.5k

The usual heat of the California sun beats down on you, but it doesn’t faze you. You’ve grown used to it, the warmth on your skin almost a comfort as you walk down the familiar path to your dad’s auto shop. The smell of oil and gasoline greets you before you even reach the door, a sharp, earthy scent that’s become part of your life. You can hear the hum of engines in the shop bay, the rhythmic clanging of tools striking metal in a symphony that’s as routine as breathing.

You smile as you approach the door, holding it open for an older couple leaving the shop. They thank you warmly, their smiles lighting up their tired faces. You return the gesture, gripping the paper bag in your hand tighter to make sure it doesn’t slip. It’s become a habit, one you can’t quite let go of.

Inside, the shop is a blend of grease-stained work uniforms, car manuals, and the ever-present scent of motor oil. Your eyes immediately fall on your dad behind the front counter, scribbling something in his worn leather notebook. The same notebook he’s kept for as long as you can remember. His brow furrows in concentration, but the moment he sees you, his face brightens.

“There’s my favorite daughter!” he calls out, a grin stretching across his weathered face.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in his voice never fails to lift your spirits. “I’m your only daughter, but thanks for the honor,” you say, stepping closer to the counter and passing him the brown paper bag. “Here’s lunch.”

“You know,” he starts, opening the bag and peeking inside, “I keep telling you, you don’t have to bring me lunch every day.”

“I know, but Mom always did, so I thought I’d keep up the tradition.” Your smile wavers just a little, sadness seeping into your voice. It’s a subtle shift, but your dad notices.

“She’d be proud of you,” he says softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. The weight of his touch is reassuring, familiar. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, the noisy shop around you seems to fall away.

“Same to you,” you say, patting his hand as you both take a beat, a quiet tribute to the one who should still be here.

After a pause, you clear your throat and offer, “I was thinking maybe we could order pizza tonight and watch Ghostbusters, you know, like we used to.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Y/N, you’re twenty-one. You should be out with friends, raging, bar hopping, staying out until three in the morning, not sitting here with an old man like me.”

You follow him as he walks towards his office, leaning against the doorframe as he sits at his cluttered desk. “Maybe I don’t want to do all that stuff. I like our weekly dinners and movie nights.”

He takes a bite of the sandwich you brought him and looks up at you with a mix of affection and concern. “I understand, sweetheart, but you can’t hide away from life forever. Trust me, you’ll regret it. And… she wouldn’t want this for you.”

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. Your mom had always been the one pushing you towards your dreams, always talking about what your future could be. She’d been so excited to help you look at colleges, to plan for what came next. But then, in a blink, everything changed. A normal day, a routine drive to bring your dad lunch, and she was gone. A collision. A wreckage you still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Your dad never says it directly, but you know he hates that you keep bringing him lunch, just like she used to. It’s a shadow you both live under, even if you don’t talk about it often.

Before you can respond, the sound of a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Hey, boss. We got an issue with the engine on the Mustang, and I’m not sure what’s up with it.”

You turn, slightly startled, and your breath catches in your throat. Standing a few feet away is possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. His curly, sandy-blonde hair falls messily over his forehead, his strong jaw covered in a light scruff. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built, with grease smudged across his muscular arms and the collar of his work shirt. His striking blue eyes flicker toward you for the briefest moment before he looks back at your dad.

Suddenly, the air feels a little thicker, and the usual warmth of the shop becomes stifling.

“I’ll check it out after lunch,” your dad responds casually, glancing between you and the man. “Oh, Y/N, this is our new hire, Billy. Billy, this is my daughter—Y/N.”

For a moment, Billy’s eyes meet yours, and something unreadable flickers behind them. He’s stoic, almost detached, but there’s something intense about the way he looks at you, even if it’s just for a split second. He gives a quick nod, muttering a brief, “Nice to meet you,” before turning back to the shop floor.

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly shake it off, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” you manage, though your voice feels oddly small.

As Billy disappears back into the garage, the clanging of tools picks up again, but you’re still stuck in that moment, staring at the spot where he just stood.

Your dad chuckles, noticing the slight flush on your cheeks. “Be careful with that one,” he says. “He’s got a lot going on.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” you reply, more to yourself than to him, already feeling your curiosity about Billy stirring, though you can’t quite place why. There’s something about him that pulls at you—a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

And you’ve never been one to shy away from curiosity.

You glance at your dad’s office phone, your thoughts drifting to his words. You’ve never been much of a drinker or partier, but maybe, just this once, stepping out of your comfort zone wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Your fingers hover over the phone, a moment of hesitation gripping you before you pick it up and dial.

After a few rings, your best friend answers. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, feeling a spark of excitement mix with nerves. “Call the girls. We’re going out tonight.”

You hang up the phone with a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy thrumming in your chest. Tonight will be different. As you move toward the door to leave the auto shop, your hand on the doorknob, you pause when you overhear two workers talking in hushed voices just outside the office.

“I’m telling you, no one really knows why he moved here,” one of them says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“From Indiana, right? Hawkins, I think it was called,” the other one responds, sounding skeptical. “Strange though… he showed up out of nowhere, didn’t talk much about it.”

“Yeah, kinda makes you wonder what he’s running from.”

You frown, straining to hear more, but the workers move further away, their voices fading. Indiana? Hawkins? The mention of Billy catches your attention, and suddenly, his quiet demeanor and distant gaze feel more than just personality quirks. It feels like he’s hiding something. Questions swirl in your mind, and you can’t shake the unease that settles over you.

Just as you’re about to leave, you catch sight of Billy through the garage’s wide door. He’s standing by a vintage Camaro, focused intently on the engine in front of him. For a moment, you watch him, captivated by how effortlessly he works—his hands moving with practiced precision as he tightens a bolt.

There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves, but it’s more than just his skill that keeps you watching. It’s the way his shoulders tense, the slight furrow in his brow. Even when he’s alone, he seems guarded, as if he’s carrying something heavy inside. You can’t help but wonder what it is.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes from the other side of the garage—a dropped tool, maybe. Billy flinches, his body jerking in a way that’s too sharp, too instinctive for someone just surprised by a noise. For a split second, his face changes. His usually controlled expression slips, revealing something raw and haunted beneath the surface. His eyes dart around the shop as though expecting some unseen threat. Then, just as quickly, the mask is back, his jaw tightening as he returns to the car, his focus seemingly restored.

But you saw it.

Your heart races a little faster as you stand frozen in place, wondering what could have shaken him like that. It wasn’t the reaction of someone merely startled—it was the reaction of someone who’s been through something. Something bad.

You swallow hard, the overheard whispers of his past mixing with the image of that brief, vulnerable moment. There’s more to Billy than the quiet mechanic who keeps his distance. Much more. And suddenly, you’re not sure whether you’re intrigued or unsettled by it.

Before you can think too much, Billy’s eyes flicker up and meet yours. For a moment, you think he might have caught you staring. His gaze is unreadable, but there’s a tension in the air that makes you shift uncomfortably.

You quickly turn, pulling the door open, your pulse still racing as you step into the afternoon sun. The warmth that once felt comforting now seems stifling, and as you walk away, the questions linger in your mind, heavier than before.

Who is Billy really? And what exactly is he hiding?

The bar is alive with energy the moment you walk in. Dim lighting casts a warm glow over the crowded space, with low-hanging bulbs swaying slightly as the door swings shut behind you and your friends. A jukebox in the corner hums out classic rock—The Eagles, maybe Fleetwood Mac—songs everyone can sing along to after a few too many drinks. The scent of spilled beer and fried food lingers in the air, blending with the constant murmur of conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from groups huddled around tables.

Your friends lead the way, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of locals who’ve been here more times than they can count. They head toward a high-top table near the back, just close enough to the bar to keep the drinks flowing, but far enough from the dance floor to avoid the inevitable chaos of drunken swaying. You slide into your seat, the polished wood cool against your hands as you try to settle into the night’s atmosphere.

But something feels off. The noise, the clinking glasses, the shouts for another round—it all seems distant, like you’re watching it from behind a thick pane of glass. You force a smile, laughing at one of your friend’s jokes, but your mind keeps wandering back to earlier that day.

Billy.

You hadn’t been able to shake the image of him—his tense posture, the way he flinched when that loud noise echoed through the auto shop. And the whispering... The workers had been vague, but the mention of Indiana and Hawkins kept circling in your thoughts. What was Billy running from? Why did he seem so… haunted?

“You alright, Y/N?” one of your friends asks, her voice cutting through your haze. You blink, realizing you’ve been staring down at your drink, fingers tracing the rim of the glass absently.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.” You force another smile, trying to push the day’s thoughts aside.

“Sure, that’s why you’ve been spacing out all night,” your best friend teases with a knowing grin. “Bet I can guess what—or who—you’re thinking about.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the flush creeping up your neck. “It’s nothing, really. Just… something weird happened at the shop today.”

“Oh no, here we go.” Another friend leans in dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “Spill it.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s nothing big. I just… overheard some of the guys talking about Billy.”

“Billy?” your best friend raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “The hot new guy who works for your dad?”

You nod, glancing around the table, feeling their eyes on you. "Yeah, they said something about him moving here from Indiana, but no one really knows why he left. And then, today, he kind of… flinched when something loud dropped in the garage. It was like he was spooked, you know? Like something was really bothering him."

There’s a pause before your friends burst out laughing, not in a mean way, but in that teasing tone they always use when they think you’re overthinking things.

“Oh come on, Y/N. You’re making it sound like he’s hiding from the mafia or something,” one of them chuckles, taking a sip of her drink.

“Or maybe he’s just shy,” your best friend adds, winking. “He is ridiculously good-looking. Who wouldn’t flinch under that kind of attention?”

You can’t help but laugh along, but inside, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t quite shake. It’s not just the attraction that’s eating at you—it’s something deeper. 

“You know what?” your best friend interrupts your thoughts again, leaning in conspiratorially. “You need to relax. Let Billy be mysterious and brooding. Tonight, we’re here to have fun. No more deep thoughts—just drinks and dancing. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, though your mind is still partly elsewhere. You’re trying to shake off the tension as the waitress brings another round, and your friends dive headfirst into lighthearted banter. But as you glance around the bar, your heart skips when you spot a familiar figure sitting alone in the far corner.

Billy.

He’s at a small table by himself, his broad shoulders hunched over a glass of whiskey, one hand resting lightly on the rim as he stares into the amber liquid. He looks as out of place as you feel—detached from the noise and energy surrounding him, lost in his own thoughts. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, making him appear even more guarded, more unreachable.

“Earth to Y/N,” your best friend sings, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Are you seriously zoning out again?”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Billy, but not before your friends follow your line of sight.

“Oh my God,” one of them gasps. “Is that Billy?”

Your heart races, and you nod, feeling exposed under their playful stares.

“Looks like fate,” your best friend says with a mischievous grin. “This is your moment, girl. Go talk to him.”

“What? No. No way,” you protest, shaking your head quickly. “I can’t just walk over there.”

“Why not?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like he’s going to bite. Besides, you’ve been thinking about him all night, right? Now’s your chance.”

You glance over at Billy again, and your pulse quickens. Part of you wants to approach him, to figure out what it is about him that’s pulling you in, but the other part of you is nervous. What if you’re reading too much into this? What if he shuts you down?

“Come on, Y/N,” another friend chimes in. “We dare you. Break the ice.”

You look at your friends, all of them grinning, eager to see how this plays out. The teasing pushes you, but underneath their laughter is a genuine push for you to step out of your comfort zone, to live a little like your dad suggested.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you down the rest of your drink, take a deep breath, and slide out of the booth. “Alright, I’ll do it,” you mutter, heart pounding as you take the first step toward Billy.

Your friends cheer behind you as you weave through the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last as you approach his table. And then, you’re standing in front of him. He looks up, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours. For a brief moment, there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—recognition, maybe even curiosity—but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. His expression remains guarded, a wall firmly in place between the two of you. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t dismiss you either. He just watches you, as if silently weighing whether to let you in or push you away.

The tension between you stretches like a rubber band pulled tight, and for a second, you consider turning around, making up some excuse to leave. But then you remember the way he flinched at the auto shop, that vulnerable moment when no one else was watching. Something inside you pushes forward, refusing to be intimidated.

“Hi Billy,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though you can feel the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker over you, then back down to his drink. For a second, you think he’s going to say no, but then he shifts in his seat, gesturing subtly to the empty chair across from him. You take it as a sign and slide into the seat, your heart pounding.

You clear your throat, feeling the weight of his silence pressing in on you. “I’m Y/N,” you say, even though you know he already knows your name. It feels strange, but you say it anyway, hoping it’ll break the ice. “We’ve, uh, kind of met already, I guess. At the shop.”

Billy nods slightly, barely acknowledging the obvious. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “I remember.”

Another stretch of silence settles between you, awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. There’s something about his presence that’s heavy, but it doesn’t repel you—it draws you in. You grip the edge of the table.

“So,” you start, leaning in just a little, trying to sound more casual than you feel, “my friends dared me to come talk to you.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of surprise breaking through his guarded expression. “Dared you?” There’s a slight edge of humor in his voice, though it’s barely noticeable.

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, grateful for any response. “I guess they think you’re a bit of a mystery.”

His gaze sharpens for a split second before he looks away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. The humor fades as quickly as it appeared, and you suddenly feel like you’ve touched on something sensitive. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you add quickly, trying to recover from the awkwardness. “I just thought I’d come over, you know, because… you don’t exactly look like you’re having the time of your life over here.”

Billy’s lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to give you hope that you haven’t completely blown it. He shifts in his seat again, his eyes flicking back to yours for a brief moment. “Bars aren’t really my thing,” he admits, his voice low, barely above a murmur.

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that he’s actually engaging. “Yeah, I get that. I’m not much of a drinker either.” You glance around the room, the lively noise of the bar in sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that seems to surround your conversation. “But, hey, sometimes it’s good to just… get out, you know?”

Billy gives a noncommittal shrug, his eyes distant again, as if he’s only half here. You can’t shake the feeling that something is weighing on him, something heavy, and you want to ask more, but you don’t want to push too hard too soon. Instead, you decide to keep things light, hoping it’ll coax him out of whatever shell he’s hiding in.

“So, are you always this mysterious, or do you save that for work?” you tease lightly, offering him a small smile.

For the first time, Billy’s gaze softens just a little, his expression almost amused. “Do you think I’m mysterious?”

“Well,” you say, leaning back in your chair, “you haven’t exactly been the chattiest guy since you started working for my dad. Not that I’m judging or anything—it’s just…” You hesitate, then add, “I guess I’m curious. I mean, you kind of keep to yourself.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out your angle. Then, finally, he lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “There’s not much to tell,” he says, though you can tell by his tone that there’s more beneath the surface.

“I don’t know,” you reply softly, your curiosity growing. “Sometimes the quiet ones have the most interesting stories.”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink, his eyes still distant. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more contemplative. “Maybe,” he says, barely audible above the noise of the bar. “But not all stories are meant to be told.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of what to say. There’s a heaviness to his statement, a sense of pain or regret that he’s not ready to share. You can feel it in the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers tighten around his glass. He’s closed off again, retreating behind his walls.

“Everyone’s got their stuff, right?”

Billy doesn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of something crosses his face—acknowledgment, maybe even understanding. Billy’s eyes remain fixed on his drink for a moment longer, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass, as if he’s contemplating something. Finally, he glances up, locking eyes with you again. There’s a brief pause, and you wonder if maybe he’s going to say something more, maybe open up just a little.

But instead, he shifts in his seat, straightening up slightly. “If this isn’t your type of place, why’d you come out?” he observes, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

You laugh softly, shrugging. “According to everyone, I’m supposed to be having more fun in life.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, looking around at the chaos of the bar before his gaze settles back on you. “And this is your idea of fun?”

“Well,” you smile, glancing back toward your friends, who are huddled together in a corner booth, laughing and sipping their drinks. “My friends mean well. I guess they just want me to let loose, stop overthinking everything.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s watching you closely, trying to read between the lines. 

“What are you overthinking?” he asks quietly, surprising you with the directness of his question.

You blink, taken aback by his unexpected interest. You weren’t expecting him to ask, let alone seem genuinely curious. You glance down at your hands, feeling a little exposed but somehow comfortable enough to answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit, letting out a small sigh. “Everything, I guess. My mom died a few years ago, and it’s been… hard. I haven’t really figured out how to move forward. I’ve been helping my dad at the shop and just… keeping things steady, I guess. It’s like I’m stuck.”

Billy’s gaze sharpens slightly at the mention of your mom, his blue eyes clouding with something darker, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, his expression unreadable.

“I know my dad means well,” you continue, your voice softer now, “but he wants me to get out more, live my life, you know? It’s just… hard. Every time I think about what I should be doing, I feel guilty. Like I’m leaving him and my mom behind.”

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and suddenly, you realize how much you’ve said. You glance at Billy, worried you’ve overshared, but he’s still watching you closely.

For a moment, there’s silence again, but this time, it feels different. More charged, like you’ve opened a door that wasn’t meant to be opened. Billy shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening just slightly, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to brush it off or change the subject.

But then he surprises you.

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something raw in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Losing someone… it messes with you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. It’s the most vulnerable he’s been since you sat down, and it catches you off guard. There’s something in the way he says it—like he knows exactly what that kind of loss feels like.

You study his face, noticing the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker with something deeper, something he’s clearly not willing to talk about just yet. But it’s there, hidden beneath the surface.

“I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” you say softly, breaking the tension with a small, apologetic smile.

Billy shakes his head, his expression softening just a little. “It’s fine. Sometimes… it’s easier to talk to someone who can understand.”

You nod, feeling a strange connection forming between the two of you, even though you’ve barely scratched the surface of who Billy really is. There’s still so much you don’t know, so much he’s clearly keeping hidden, but for the first time, you feel like you’ve glimpsed a piece of the real him. The guy behind the walls.

The noise of the bar seems to fade away for a moment, the world shrinking down to just the two of you at this small table, surrounded by the chaos of laughter and music. You feel the weight of his gaze on you.

Before you can say anything more, Billy’s eyes flick toward the door, and his entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders tense, his jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as if he’s just spotted something—or someone—that makes him uneasy.

You follow his gaze, but all you see is a group of rowdy guys stumbling through the door, shouting and laughing as they head toward the bar. Nothing unusual, just another group of late-night partiers. But Billy seems… on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billy shakes his head, standing up abruptly. “I’ve got to go,” he mutters, his voice tight.

You stand up too, confusion swirling in your chest. “Billy, wait—”

But he’s already moving toward the exit, his steps quick and deliberate. You watch him push through the crowd, disappearing into the night before you can stop him.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in place, trying to make sense of what just happened. The bar feels louder now, the noise crashing back into your senses as the door swings shut behind him. You’re left standing by the table, your heart racing, questions swirling in your mind.

As you glance toward the door again, a knot of unease tightens in your chest. Whatever just spooked Billy—it wasn’t something casual. It was personal. And whatever it was, it’s clear that Billy’s past, the one you’ve been so curious about, isn’t as far behind him as he’d like to pretend.

You feel it now—an undeniable pull toward him. Whatever darkness he’s running from, whatever secret he’s keeping… you can’t shake the feeling that you’re about to be pulled into it too.

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[davespritevstheworld]

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