#ch09

[campbyler]

ch09 extras

hello!! while we all wait for chapter 10.1 to be finished (we are so close!), we wanted to share some extras from ch09 to tide us over in the meantime 💌 please enjoy a short deleted dialogue scene and the original ch09 outline below the cut!

DELETED SCENE - MIKE TEACHING WILL HOW TO DRIVE (disclaimer: please do not learn how to drive manual from a fanfiction. i do not care if this is wrong. thanks <3)

Mike doesn’t even have the opportunity to respond before Will is turning the car on again, miraculously doing so successfully without having to ask Mike for instruction.  “Look at that,” Mike exclaims, genuinely impressed, complete with a low whistle. Embarrassingly (for Mike), the car isn’t the only thing Will turned on. “You’re already getting the hang of it!” Will resists the urge to roll his eyes, because he is also proud of himself, regardless of how small of an accomplishment it is. “Turning the car on isn’t impressive,” he says dismissively, because he is nothing if not humble. “It’s better than what most people can do,” Mike points out. “Do you think that Lucas knows how to start a manual car? I’ll answer for you – he doesn’t. He’s a loser.”  Will barks out a laugh, a little surprised at the animosity towards Lucas this afternoon. “What do you have against Lucas?”  “Nothing,” Mike says quickly. “He’s my best friend, even if he is a loser who can’t drive stick.”  “I’m telling him that you said that,” he threatens.  “It’ll be nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Mike says, the picture of unbothered. He gestures towards Will's feet again, ready to move on from his Lucas slander. “Anyway, before you let off the brake this time, remember the drawbridge.” He lifts both hands up, mimicking the same model drawbridge he had earlier when he’d first been explaining. “When you’re lowering it back down – releasing the clutch, in this case – you’ll want to do it slowly. Ease off it.” He mimics his words with the motion of his hands, miming the drawbridge slowly lowering down. “Once you feel the clutch engage – and you’ll know when, because it’s almost like the car is biting – then you can let off completely. Does that make sense?” “Slower release,” Will repeats, nodding his head slowly too, getting into the idea of it “Got it.”  “I don’t want you worrying about the gas pedal at all right now,” Mike continues, wiggling his fingers around his head in a motion that Will translates as: get it out of your mind. “You’re going to let go of the brake, forget the gas pedal even exists for the moment, and peel off the clutch – slowly – until you feel that bite.”  “Okay,” Will says. He clutches at the wheel a little tighter, like maybe the intensity of his grip directly correlates to how well he’s about to do. “I think I’ve got it.”  “I believe in you,” Mike says encouragingly, shooting him two thumbs up.  Will shoots him a small, nervous smile and turns back to the matter at hand. He lets go of the brake, and the car instantly responds, beginning to crawl forward again at what Will considers to be a wonderful, beautiful speed – 3mph. He starts to ease off the clutch, making sure to go slower this time, waiting for the feeling of the bite Mike had promised – but he must mess up somewhere, because the car lurches forward again, coming to an abrupt halt. 

CH09 ORIGINAL OUTLINE + AUTHOR'S COMMENTARY

[campbyler]

FOEFKDIXD FFKEOENSOSNEOWISNAORddnejejdiEjeodjaRKEODKE D WJWHS WODDNRKR RIEKEOEWOD WIDNEIDS EOWE DOE EISDNEODKSNR TRJE ROW EIDNWOEOEONDKEKEWODNWKSISBRKDSIZOOD FEJEODJWJEODOSJE SKDJD

"a fact so true, so loud, that he can’t believe he’d been able to hear anything else before now."  (fic by @campbyler)

[waylibee-analysis-firm]

mustang theory (ch09)

guys im being so serious rn. im so scared to post this. but bee is being wonderfully supportive (as usual <3) and i am going to be. so very Brave. this may not be coherent, but...i hope it makes some sort of sense ok. anyways here is the theory for ch09:

mike and will leave the camp dance early bc of Bad Memories and/or they would rather just be making out (which is. fair) 

(fearless lore is referenced throughout but also will be theorized/posted about separately) 

this would be proven by the references to wish you were sober by conan gray (yes ik it’s not in relation to ch09 but. this part Could Happen at the end of ch08…just saying). 

this specific theory is fueled by the weird eureka moment i had regarding this post. is this a reach? yes. do i fucking care? no.

they take mike’s car, despite will’s grumblings abt his stupid fucking mustang.

ch01 im staring. Directly at you. shut up. shut up. i hear what you’re saying and i just can’t listen right now okay. ch01 we’ll get back to you i prommy

“Also, God forbid I have to leave the grounds in Mike Wheeler’s stupid fucking Mustang more than once this summer," he adds, nearly spitting. (ch01)

need i say more.

also this would totally be building more on their trust....plus probably some references from follow the sparks that i don't know off the top of my head

also could have been foreshadowed by ch02…when will refused to get into mike’s stupid. fucking. mustang. just saying….

ch02 is also biggest fearless lore references we have that i can think of but that is for another time

“Don’t tell me you’re driving that thing,” Will scoffs, eyeing Mike’s car in trepidation, eyes sweeping along the length of the racing stripes. (ch02)

...forcing Will to declare a lesser of two evils: throwing dignity to the wind and accepting a ride in the Mustang — the undeserving bane of Will’s existence...(ch02)

CAR EMOJI !!!!

this chapter is “thea’s baby”. well thea is also the resident car expert.

im literally so funny for this sorry not sorry im cracking myself up ->

either something happens between them and they end up pulled over OR something happens to the stupid fucking mustang

THIS could be that one post thea made…which could have been totally innocent OR it could have been COMPLETELY SINISTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OUT TO GET US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! putting on my tinfoil hat

smth happens between them...backseat driver will (mentioned in ch02) as well as the stupid. FUCKING how to drive manual that's been driving me INSANE the past couple of days (found here.)

side note: thea i love you but you are driving me Bonkers (mwah <3)

alternative to the above point is that mike pulls over to 1) make out with will (again. which is again. fair.) 2) chat with will about what they Are

option 2) would require some sort of shift in their relationship/situationship beforehand…im thinking this could mean you know that i caught it could take place BEFORE or DURING ch9… this could be the They Know motif coming to a head (meaning everybody. they Know for real this time. and now mike’s confused about it. “what are we?” talk from ch05 but times a million)

“save me ‘till the party’s over/kiss me in the seat of your rover”

^^ regarding this. i wrote all of this before i rediscovered that wish u were sober has nothing to do with ch09 (supposedly). im just too lazy to change it bear with me please.

will gets mad at mike for some reason?

if the original point made (something happens to the stupid fucking mustang) ends up happening, this could be will’s breaking point bc he’s overwhelmed and panicked and stuff is happening too fast for him

ch09 is a will pov chapter.

also frustrated crier (some ask about ch04 that i need to find to link before this gets posted)…just saying.

will gets mad at mike continued and reverts back to his I Need to Hurt You phase bc it’s safe and he doesn’t know how to handle the UNDOUBTEDLY romantic feelings n thoughts he’s having about mike…

he’s scared of getting hurt again like he was with derek and he’s scared of the unfamiliar territory that comes with being nice to mike/having mike be nice in return

This type of gentleness is certainly a facet of Will that Mike has known, having seen it more than a handful of times over the years, but it’s not quite one he’s accustomed to. (ch06)

this ^^ goes both ways i assume...there's gotta be evidence abt it in a will pov chapter but i am. exhausted.

he lashes out at mike that they aren’t anything, they’re just a casual fwb situationship, etc. 

wow would you look at that…this is paralleling the fearless lore theory…

cue "straight up" by paula abdul for mike pov (i've been a fool before/wouldn't like to get my love caught in the slammin' door/how about some information, please? // straight up now tell me/do you really want to love me forever oh, oh, oh/or am I caught in a hit-and-run?/straight up now tell me/is it gonna be you and me together oh, oh, oh/or are you just having fun?)

“Hit-and-run” CAR IMAGERY ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

"straight up" by paula abdul is on mike's driving playlist and i've been going insane about it since i saw it. btw. i love this song.

mike's unsure abt what they Are/what will is thinking so he reverts to the childish fighting thing too...pushing will's buttons is second nature for him by this point...evidence for this in a mike pov i will find later prommy

this is also wish you were sober coded “trip down the road, walking you home/you kiss me at your door/pullin’ me close, beg me ‘stay over’/but im over this roller coaster/imma crawl out of the window now/gotten good at saying ‘gotta bounce’/honestly you always let me down/and i know we’re not just hanging out”

first half here. could be about how mike is begging will for a relationship. but will is “over the rollercoaster” and the push and pull of their friendship to rivalry to fwb situation. 

second half here. will’s metaphorically leaving mike (crawling out the window). he’s “gotten good at saying ‘gotta bounce’” bc he’s done this to mike Before when they kissed when they were thirteen…i Think (fearless lore theory). “honestly you always let me down” could be a reference to. will being angry with mike for not just being happy with their fwb, even though he wants more too? “i know we’re not just hanging out” come ON this is will saying he KNOWS THEY CANT JUST BE CASUAL. HE LITERALLY SAYS THIS IN CH05 I BELIEVE. OR MIKE DOES IN CH06. THEY CAN’T BE ANYTHING BUT EACH OTHERS EVERYTHING. 

^^ literally kill me now i can't believe none of this is related. curling up into a little ball and sobbing.

this would be the beginning of the Angst that’s a 3-4 on a scale of 10 bc we know they're both idiots just miscommunicating But. hey.

so that's uh. that's the outline of the Theory we currently have...it's our most fleshed out one rn fs but there are a few Others that were referenced here that we need some more information on...

anyways. thanks for being insane with us. <3

[itisaterriblelove]

GIVING ELLE SPACE WAS PROBABLY a better idea than spending any one on one time with her. But the fucking truth was that it probably wasn’t Elle who needed the fucking space—the opposite, actually, considering the whole damn fight was about me ditching her for Tyler—it was me. Maybe I just needed to get my head on straight, because it was starting to feel like everything was turning upside down and I was helpless to do anything but watch it spin.

I don’t know what the fuck happened.

Elle and I had always had a dynamic friendship, pretty much since grade school. She’d been one of the weirder kids, and a lot of the others had made fun of her for it. But I’d thought she was fucking fascinating, even then, and not much had changed since.

It was never a sexual thing, not with Elvis. Some people were just too fucking awesome to complicate shit with sex. She was special to me, and I’d never made any qualms about admitting that. Not to her and not to anybody else, either. After years of the same, everybody seemed to understand that about us.

We’d been fine. We’d been perfect. Elle and I had been coasting on a perfectly functional relationship for years. Until recently.

I liked girls. I liked hooking up. I even liked relationships. It was fun to see how two people gelled together and what stupid shit we managed to get bent out of shape about with each other in the process. What shit eventually ended it. But the thing all of my relationships had in common? Yeah… They all fucking ended. Mostly on good terms, but me and the girl were sure as shit not best friends before or after it. And it was okay when those girls came and went. When things changed… As long as the big things stayed the fucking same. And Elvis Hirsche was one of those big things.

Which was why—without ever really talking about it—Elle and I had decided to avoid that whole fucking messy minefield. It had never needed a conversation before.

So why the fuck did I feel like it needed one now?

Maybe it was just me? Maybe I was making a bigger deal where there wasn’t one. I couldn’t be sure. It suddenly felt like I couldn’t be sure of anything where Elle was concerned.

“Gavin?” The sound of my name on her lips let me know that she’d said my name more than once while I lost myself in thought about her. Elle’s impatient face confirmed that assumption. “Am I playing this right? It sounds off?” 

I tried to listen as Elle strummed on my guitar, but all I could hear was the rushing sound of blood in my veins as I watched her bite down on her bottom lip in concentration. And it was mother-fucking distracting, to say the least.

I cleared my throat and forced my eyes away from her cute little body, bent over my guitar on the sofa in my living room. Today’s lesson had been longer than anticipated, and it was all my fault, I knew it.

“Sorry baby, do that one more time for me.” 

I had to clear my head if it was the last thing that I did. There was something off track in me when I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about how it felt to wake up with Elle curled up in my arms, with the scent of her hair pressed against my nose.

I liked my girlfriend—a lot. And I didn’t see that changing any time soon. So I really couldn’t understand where the frustration had snuck in from. 

Elle strummed the series of chords again without complaint, effectively pulling me out of myself long enough to concentrate on the music. It was a rare fucking day where music didn’t have my full attention, but apparently I was going a bit against the grain today.

She was right, actually, about something being off. But it wasn’t because she’d done what I showed her wrong. Quickly, I realized my own mistake. I was supposed to be teaching her a new song, but my mind was so off topic that I hadn’t even played it right for her to learn from me.

“It seems like it should go more like this…” She played in a way that better rounded the music, creating a more complete tune with barely a mistake. For a moment I could only sit in stunned silence as I processed what had just happened. It wasn’t like Elle was playing by ear—not exactly—because I was teaching her something that I wrote. And so she’d taken my mistake and fixed it, then somehow managed to make it sound even better without my input.

“Gavin?” She prodded me with her foot, lifting her face from the guitar to stare at me. One of her eyebrows arched and I realized that I had been silent for too long. “Where is your mind today?” 

“I only just taught you those chords last month!” I knew it sounded like a complaint, but I really couldn’t help myself. “Fuck, Elle! Maybe I should stop teaching you, before you become a better guitarist than me.” 

She beamed at me, all the smugness splayed across her expression, and shrugged. “Better watch your back, Gavin Porter.” Elle tapped my guitar gently and shot me a warning look. “I might be taking your spot in the band soon!” 

“Hey, hey!” I cupped my heart in mock-offense. “That’s so fucking rude.” I shook my head at her. “I thought we were starting our own band. What happened to that?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Elle actually wiggled on the sofa with my guitar in her lap, she was so excited by the thought. “I could play the bongos and we could travel in one of those campers.” 

“Now that’s the life.” I laughed at the genuine gleam of excitement in her eyes; it was hard not to take her seriously when she said outrageous things like that. I suspected she actually meant them all.

“We could live off love and a tip jar,” she announced with a sage nod of her head. 

My smile softened as I agreed with her. “Sounds good to me, baby. Sign me up.” 

She shifted, settling my guitar down next to the sofa, propped up against the end table. “What do you think we should name our band? And can I finish my fashion design degree first?” 

Yeah, okay. She was probably fucking serious. I shrugged. “You should definitely finish your degree first. Garrett and Amy would never let me hear the fucking end of it if I ran off with you and didn’t let you finish school. You know, they think I’m a bad influence on you?!”

Elle scoffed. “It’s like your parents have never met my parents before…” She shook her head, but the smile on her face gave away her actual appreciation of my parents’ assessment of our friendship. She snapped her fingers at me in the way people do when someone’s being too slow about something. “Names, bucko!” 

I blinked at her. “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “You’re better at that stuff than me. You pick.”

She squirmed again, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “I’ll have to think about it, then. And you’re not allowed to veto anything that I pick! Since you’re not contributing.” 

“Those are some steep terms, Elle.” I regarded her seriously but she didn’t even flinch. “All right, fine. But no boy band references!” I had to at least have that much assurance. “Non-negotiable.” 

She pouted at me. An honest to god, serious fucking pout that had me nervous all over again. Fuck. Everything. “Non-negotiable, baby.” I repeated, refusing to be swayed. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised when she threw herself in my lap. I mean, fucking honestly. I should have seen it coming, because this was Elle, and this was just the shit that we did. But damn.

I was on the floor, a notebook opened on the coffee table in front of me, and literally at Elle’s feet from where she sat on the sofa. And one second she was there, pouting, and the next she had launched herself onto my lap like it was no big deal.

It shouldn’t have been—it wasn’t always—but it really fucking was.

It wasn’t a sexy thing that she did. I mean, it wasn’t supposed to be… She was in some regular jeans and a hoodie and nothing fucking special, and I had held her in my arms a hundred thousand times. So it should have been run of the mill.

Except it was Elle, all warm and soft, and smelling like vanilla for some fucking reason. And when she wrapped her arms around me, all I could think about was sliding my tongue up the curve of her neck, and it was really fucking me up.

My heart started going a hundred miles an hour, which was just so fucking dumb. But I was a hundred and fucking ten percent sure she tasted better than she smelled, and all I could think about was finding out for sure. 

“I’m sorry we fought last night.” Her breath and her hair tickled along my neck, as I carefully wrapped my arms around her. “It was stupid. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry I ruined your date.”

I tried to tell my heart to calm the fuck down but it just wouldn’t listen. I breathed, slowly in and slowly out, before even trying to respond to her. “I’m sorry I ditched you, baby. It was my fault.”

It wasn’t.

Elle had been less than gracious about Tyler from the start, and I had been pretending not to notice all along. But shit, I was noticing now.

“What's your problem with Tyler?” Elle shrugged and I felt, more than saw, her shoulders rising with it.

“I don’t know. I don’t have a problem with her?” She tipped her head back so that she could look at me. Which was a horrible fucking thing for her to do, because it just put her face that much closer to mine. If we shifted, I could have her on her back in a few seconds. Out of the hoodie, out of the shirt, just my hands on her skin. My mouth.

It was soft—Elle’s skin—and smooth and tan and taut. She’d probably let me do it, too. I thought she might.

Un-fucking-believable. I couldn’t focus for three seconds.

I swallowed and leaned my head just slightly back. It took a moment for me to get my thoughts back on track, to reorient myself to the topic of conversation. Girlfriend, right. One that Elle did not like. “I think you kind of do, Elle.” My tone wasn’t as light as I expected it to be, because my tone was usually always light. Soft, uncommitted. But at the moment everything was heavy and filled with tension. Even my vocal chords. 

Elle sighed. “I guess I’m just… jealous.” I could see the word was hard for her to push out, and it was even harder for me to hear. It caused a tightness in my chest that I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with. And I must have looked like something—I don’t fucking know what—but my face was telling Elle something that she apparently did not want to hear. I knew this when she pulled away from me and scooted onto the open space on the floor beside me. She pulled in to herself, drawing her knees up, and rested her chin against them.

I’d been uncomfortable with her right up on me, but I was fucking hating the space that she’d created once she moved.

“I mean… You have someone and I don’t.” She sort of shrugged without looking at me, and her voice had gotten smaller. That tightness in my chest increased, but I couldn’t understand exactly why.

“I think I just need a boyfriend.” At that word—boyfriend—all of my muscles tensed. Like a coiled spring, every part of me clenched together. I was fucking speechless, and breathless too.

For some reason, the idea of Elle needing a boyfriend sucked all of the air out of the room.

“I mean…” she blinked, and her big eyes zeroed back in on my cornered expression. “I spend almost all of my free time with you. And I’m practically graduated college and yet I’m still a virgin! That’s crazy, right?!” 

I couldn’t have answered her if I’d wanted to… Every fucking word in the English language had just erased from my mind.

I must have been quiet for too long, because Elle twisted her body to look at me and arched one eyebrow again. “Gavin?” She prodded my kneecap with her pointer finger. I caught her finger and tugged, encouraging her to come back to me. This time her legs straddled me on either side, and we sat there, face to face for a moment where I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do next.

I settled my hands on her hips and let out the breath that I’d been holding. “Don’t have sex with some asshole just to say you did it, Elle.” There was my voice, and it wasn’t even shaky. It was some kind of fucking miracle. “I would hate that.” The longer I looked at her—this close to my face—the surer I was that I was going to kiss her. Just fuck the consequences, I was practically desperate to feel her lips on my skin. I wasn’t proud of the realization, but I knew for sure that I wanted my tongue in her mouth.

If she moved, if she even breathed hard enough. 

“You should make sure it’s the right asshole, okay?” There was no reason for me to be whispering, except the obvious… That I was still thinking about kissing her, still deciding if I was going to do it. She nodded and it was almost my fucking breaking point.

I could push her hips to my hips, I could slide my hands underneath her shirt. She would definitely let me. I couldn’t even feel my heart, it was beating so fast.

“And you’re not allowed to spend less time with me. I’d miss you too much.” It was meant to be a joke, meant to lighten the mood and create that bit of space I really needed to break this fucking hold she had on me at the moment. But it didn’t work. When I said it, it sounded too much like flirting. And, fuck me, it sort of felt too much like flirting, too. 

“Relax, Gavin,” Elle patted my shoulder reassuringly. She leaned back, so I shifted and she stood. Thank fucking God. She ran her fingers through her hair and rolled her shoulders. “It’s not like I’m going to do the next jerk I go on a blind date with or something. I just mean maybe I should date.” 

She shrugged like it was no big deal, and maybe she was right with that. Maybe it wasn’t. 

But I still felt like something invisible had wrapped me up in a vice-grip and I couldn’t get free.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART | MASTERLIST

Rafe Cameron's MASTERLIST

Pairing: Basketball Player! Rafe x Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Content: marriage of convenience, fake dating, athlete!rafe au

NAVIGATION —

All Of TCH asks and thoughts

ALL THE CHAPTERS —

✦ Ch01 ✦ Ch02 ✦ Ch03 ✦ Ch04 ✦ Ch05 ✦ Ch06 ✦ Ch07 ✦ Ch08 ✦ Ch09 ✦ Ch10 ✦ Ch11 ✦ Ch12 ✦ Ch13 ✦ Ch14 ✦ Ch16 ✦ Ch17 ✦ Ch18 ✦ Ch19 ✦ Ch20 ✦

SOME EXTRAS —

✦ Moodboard01

✦ TCH!Reader's Fashion Style

✦ SMAU01 | SMAU02 | SMAU03 | SMAU04

✦ Rafe being horny

✦ Their Photo Gallery

Obviously, layout credit to bookie @zyafics

[theonlyonesora]

Masterlist : Shades of Love and Loss

Summary: Yuna’s world shatters when Suguru Geto, the man she loved with her whole heart, leaves Jujutsu High—and her—behind. Alone and struggling to cope with the void he left, she finds unexpected solace in his best friend, Satoru Gojo. Their friendship deepens when Gojo shows up one fateful day, two children, asking for her help in raising them.

As time passes, Yuna and Satoru create a life together, unconventional but filled with warmth and love. Just as she starts to believe she’s found her path forward, Suguru returns, reigniting old feelings and reopening old wounds. Torn between the ghost of her first love and the man who helped her heal, Yuna must decide: cling to the past with Suguru or embrace the future with Satoru and the family they've built.

Will love’s second chance be enough to mend her broken heart, or will she choose to protect the new life she’s come to cherish?

.

CH01 - Echoes of a Broken Bond

CH02 - Eternal Flame of Longing

CH03 - Echoes of Abandonment

CH04 - Whispers of Youth (2006)

CH05 - Golden Year (2006)

CH06 - Stay

CH07 - A Glimmer of Hope

CH08 - Joy in the Little Things

CH09 - A Surprise Responsibility

CH10 - A New Beginning

CH11 - Unconventional Harmony

CH12 - Fractured Bonds

CH13 - Shadows of Longing

CH14 - A New Dawn

You can finish reading on my Wattpad or Ao3

[chireikiden]

Note: Contains more of Okina being a pervert, and also some slightly dirtier jokes in general. Also on MangaDex.

[kocch]

we love domestic couples that are basically married!!

a cruel summer with you (ch09) by @campbyler

[wayliparker-co]

call me when you get a second: masterpost

“I have to go, actually,” he says finally, though the expression on Mike’s face plainly tells him he knows he’s lying, and had expected the response before it came. “Like, now. Preferably.”

“Oh,” Mike says, decidedly disappointed but not exactly surprised as Will tosses a twenty onto the bar and hops out of his seat in one fluid motion. “Oh, well- wait, Will, hang on, I want to talk to you-”

“Yeah, well,” Will huffs, adjusting the collar of his jacket, “thanks, but I’ve actually had quite enough of hearing about what you want for one lifetime, so. I think I’ll pass on this one.”

OR: two boys, ten years, and a hell of a lot of drama <3

cmwygas is a multi timeline fic/universe crafted by yours truly, with chapter uploads every two weeks beginning friday, april 5th, 2024

ch01🫶

ch02 🫧

ch03 🫶

ch04 🫧

ch05 🫶

ch06 🫧

ch07🫶

ch08 🫧

ch09 🫶

ch10 🫧

ch11 🫶

ch12 🫧

ch13 🫶

ch14 🫧

ch15 🫶

ch16🫶

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' Season 1 Masterlist

S1.Ch01 'Blue House, Black Dog'

S1.Ch02 'Fur'

S1.Ch03 'Alone'

S1.Ch04 'Home'

S1.Ch05 'Who Are You?'

S1.Ch06 'Tether'

S1.Ch07 'The Real Monsters'

S1.Ch08 'Stay'

S1.Ch09 'Gamble'

S1.Ch10 'Winds of Change'

S1.Ch11 'In The Dark'

S1.Ch12 'Dear Dad'

S1.Ch13 'Family'

S1.Ch14 'Learning'

S1.Ch15 'Coven'

S1.Ch16 'God's Instrument'

S1.Ch17 'Monster'

S1.Ch18 'Salvation'

S1.Ch19 'Yellow-Eyes'

S1.Ch20 'Bobby'

S1.Ch21 'Sunrise'

S1.Ch22 'Devil's Trap'

Season Conclusion 'The Road So Far'

[startseeingstars]

Under the Needle - Clay Roach (City on a Hill)

CH09 🎶 Yellow - Coldplay 🎶

The pounding in your head was impossible to ignore. You blinked against the harsh morning light seeping through your blinds, groaning softly as the events of the previous night came flooding back. Your lips still tingled faintly, and your chest tightened when you glanced around your apartment.

Empty.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but waking up to find Clay gone stung more than it should have. The ache in your chest mingled with the bitter taste of the comedown, leaving you raw and hollow.

The day dragged on. You went through the motions—showering, eating something bland—but everything felt muted, your mind circling back to him over and over again. By the time the sun set, the restless energy had become unbearable. You needed answers, or at least the chance to clear the air.

So, you found yourself standing in front of his door, the nerves twisting in your stomach making you second-guess the decision. But before you could turn back, the door swung open.

It wasn’t Clay.

“Oh, hi, Myah,” his mom said, her smile warm but slightly curious. “Looking for Clay?”

You hesitated, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, is he home?”

She shook her head, leaning against the doorframe. “He’s out. Not sure when he’ll be back.”

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” you murmured, turning to leave.

“Wait a second,” she said, stopping you in your tracks. You turned back slowly, and there was a spark of something sly in her expression. “You’re a friend of his?”

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, though the word didn’t quite sit right in your mouth.

Her smile widened slightly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Clay doesn’t have a lot of friends, you know. Especially female ones.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “We’re not… I mean, we’re not dating or anything.”

The knowing look she gave you made your cheeks burn. “Of course not,” she said lightly, though her tone suggested she didn’t believe you. “Still, it’s nice to see him spending time with someone.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and you fumbled for a response but came up short.

“Well, I’ll let him know you stopped by,” she said, still watching you closely.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, turning quickly and walking away before she could say anything else.

As you made your way back to your apartment, your heart felt heavier with every step. Her words echoed in your mind, mingling with your own tangled feelings. You hated the vulnerability creeping into your chest, hated how easily Clay had wormed his way under your skin.

And worst of all, you hated that you weren’t sure what to do about it.

xxx 🎶 Masterpiece - The Rubens 🎶 xxx

The buzz of the tattoo gun hummed in your ears as you leaned over your client’s arm, meticulously shading the intricate design they’d chosen for flash week. The parlor had been a madhouse for days—walk-ins piling through the door, the phone ringing off the hook. You were running on caffeine and pure adrenaline, the kind of exhausted that had your brain moving in slow motion while your hands worked on autopilot.

You hadn’t seen Clay in days, not since the night in your apartment. You told yourself it was for the best, that some distance would help clear your head. But that didn’t stop your mind from drifting to him when things got quiet—on the rare occasion they did.

The bell over the door jingled, and you glanced up briefly, more out of habit than curiosity. Your heart stuttered when you saw him.

Clay.

The shop smelled like ink, antiseptic, and stale coffee. It wasn’t his usual scene, but Eric had told him to stop by during his shift. Clay had been reluctant at first—he hated how exposed he felt walking into places like this, where everyone seemed to look right through him and see every crack. But he needed a fix, and Eric had the goods.

It was stupid, really—he hadn’t even known you worked here, and now he felt like he was intruding. Like he’d stumbled into a part of your life he wasn’t supposed to see.

He stood just inside the doorway, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, scanning the room. To you, he looked out of place —uncomfortable but trying to mask it with that usual air of detachment.

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly refocused on your client, hoping the buzzing of the gun would drown out the thundering in your chest.

“Need help?” one of your coworkers, Eric, called out, stepping around the counter. He was one of the quieter ones—a wiry, sketchy-looking guy who kept to himself. You’d never had a reason not to trust him, but something about his demeanor always put you on edge.

Clay hesitated before nodding, his gaze sweeping across the room again. For a second, it landed on you, and his expression flickered with something that almost looked like regret.

Eric motioned for him to follow, and Clay trailed behind him into the back room.

Your jaw tightened as you watched them disappear. Something about the interaction didn’t sit right with you. Eric rarely dealt with walk-ins; he wasn’t even an artist—he just hung around the shop, helping out when things got busy.

“Everything okay?” your client asked, their voice pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Almost done here.”

But your mind was elsewhere, thoughts swirling as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Clay followed Eric down the dark hall toward the back of the shop. “Give me five,” Eric muttered, gesturing for Clay to wait by the utility sink.

Clay shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his fingers brushing against the crumpled bills he’d pulled together for this. His chest felt tight, and he hated the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him to turn around and leave. But he stayed.

Finally, the door to the back creaked open, and Clay stepped out, his jaw set and his gaze fixed on the floor. He was halfway to the door before you called out to him, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Clay.”

He stopped but didn’t turn around.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone softer now as you set down your tools and wiped your hands.

“Just… came to see Eric,” he said vaguely, still avoiding your eyes.

Your brow furrowed. “You know him?”

“Yeah. We go back.”

You didn’t buy it, but you let it slide. “You leaving already?”

He finally looked at you, his expression guarded. “Yeah.”

You stepped closer, crossing your arms. “Let’s hang out later.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” you pressed, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s been a shitty week. We could both use a distraction.”

Clay sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Later.”

“Promise?”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Yeah. Promise.”

You watched him leave, the uneasy feeling in your chest growing heavier as the door swung shut behind him. Eric reappeared at the front and you watched him carefully. Something was off, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what it was.

xxx 🎶 My Disaster - Ocean Grove 🎶 xxx

The hallway outside Clay’s door felt colder than usual, and the stillness wrapped around you like a damp blanket. You hesitated before knocking, your knuckles hovering just above the wood. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer, that maybe you’d just head back to your place and avoid whatever this night might hold.

But you knocked anyway. There was no response.

“Clay?” you called softly, knocking again. Nothing.

After a long pause, you tried the doorknob. To your surprise, it turned, the door creaking open into the dim apartment.

The air hit you first—stale, with an acrid undercurrent that made your stomach tighten. The glow of a lamp cast long shadows across the room, illuminating the mess of clothes, empty bottles, and discarded takeout containers strewn across the floor. Your gaze darted toward the couch, and there he was.

Clay.

He was slumped sideways, his head resting on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. For a moment, relief washed over you—at least he was breathing. But then you saw it: the needles, the crumpled foil, the burned spoon on the table in front of him.

Your throat tightened as the reality of the scene hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Clay,” you said again, louder this time as you crossed the room. He didn’t stir.

Kneeling beside him, you checked for signs of life—his pulse steady but weak under your fingers. You felt your chest tighten with a mix of anger, fear, and something else you couldn’t quite place. Disappointment? No, it wasn’t that. It was deeper—like you were watching him slip further away, and you didn’t know how to hold on.

“Goddammit,” you muttered under your breath.

Grabbing the blanket draped over the back of the couch, you carefully tucked it around him, doing your best to make him comfortable. His face was pale, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than ever. He looked smaller somehow—fragile in a way you weren’t used to seeing.

You sank onto the floor, leaning back against the couch as exhaustion weighed heavy on you. Reaching for the bong on the coffee table, you packed it with what little weed he had left, desperate for something to dull the ache in your chest. The smoke burned your lungs, but it grounded you, letting the tension in your body ease just enough to stop shaking.

For a while, you just sat there, staring at him. His face was slack, his mouth slightly open as he slept. It was a version of him you weren’t sure you recognized, and yet it felt like this was the real Clay—the one he worked so hard to hide.

Your thoughts spiraled as the minutes turned into hours.

Should you be scared? Angry? Both?

It didn’t matter. The anger felt hollow, and the fear was too big to face right now. All you could do was sit there, your fingers tracing patterns in the carpet as you waited for him to wake up.

And as the night wore on, the weight of the silence pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating. But you stayed. Because even if you didn’t know how to stop him from disappearing, you weren’t ready to let him go just yet.

When Clay started stirring, you were already watching him. His eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and unfocused, and for a second, he seemed disoriented. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry, and his stomach churned faintly—a combination he knew too well.

Then, as his gaze settled on you sitting cross-legged on the floor by the couch, the corners of his mouth twitched in what might’ve been a faint, embarrassed smirk.

“You been sitting there all night?” His voice was rough, thick with sleep and whatever he’d used to get himself into this state.

You shrugged, taking a long drag from the bong before setting it down with a clink. “Didn’t exactly feel right leaving you like this.”

He’d spent most of his life perfecting the art of evasion, of keeping people at a distance. But there you were, watching him like you could see straight through the walls he put up.

He sat up slowly, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. The blanket slipped off his shoulders, and you caught the brief flash of annoyance in his expression as he noticed it. He shifted in his seat, trying to pull himself together, but the haze of sleep still clung to him.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” you asked, keeping your tone as steady as you could manage.

Clay’s jaw tightened. “What what was about?”

You gestured toward the needles and foil on the table, your stomach knotting as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Don’t play dumb, Clay. I’m not an idiot.”

He let out a sharp exhale, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s not a big deal,” he said finally, his voice low and defensive. “It’s just… something I do sometimes. To take the edge off.”

You raised an eyebrow, your disbelief clear. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“It’s not like I’m shooting up every day,” he snapped, his frustration bleeding through. “I’ve got it under control.” It wasn’t you he was annoyed at—it was himself, for being careless enough to let you see this side of him. For letting you care.

Your heart twisted at the lie, the casual way he tried to brush it off like it was nothing. “Clay, come on,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

He leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say?” he muttered. “That I’m some kind of junkie? That I can’t handle my shit?”

“I want you to be honest,” you shot back.

“I am being honest,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s not a problem. It’s just… a release. Everyone’s got their thing, right?”

He hated himself even as the words left his mouth, hated the way they sounded like something his dad might’ve said. But he didn’t know how else to protect himself. Letting you in meant letting you see all the ugly parts of him, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

You stared at him, searching his face for some hint of the truth. But he was shutting down, retreating behind that wall he always built whenever you got too close. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his eyes flicked away from yours.

After a long pause, you stood up, brushing off your hands. “Fine,” you said quietly, grabbing your things.

His head snapped up, his expression caught somewhere between anger and surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not buying it, but I’m not gonna argue with a wall.” Before he could respond, you turned and left, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in the quiet apartment.

xxx 🎶 My Way - Limp Bizkit 🎶 xxxx

The next day, the tattoo shop was buzzing with the chaos of flash week, but your focus was razor-sharp. When you finally caught Eric alone in the back, his usual quiet demeanor didn’t stop you from cornering him.

“We need to talk,” you said, arms crossed as you blocked his path.

Eric raised an eyebrow, looking more annoyed than surprised. “About what?”

“Clay,” you said bluntly. “You’re not gonna supply him that shit anymore.”

He gave you a long, measured look before leaning against the counter. “Not my business what he does with his money,” he said coolly.

“I’m telling you to back off.” You shot back, your tone cutting.

Eric sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Look, I’m not his babysitter. If he wants to buy, he’ll find someone else. You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I’ll be damned if he’s coming to one of my coworkers for his fix.”

Eric’s expression hardened. “You know, for someone who works with needles all day, you sure like to play moral high ground.”

You stepped closer, your jaw tight. “Cut. Him. Off.” You warned slowly. “If you don’t, I’ll make damn sure you regret it.” The harsh tone of your voice felt foreign, but the protectiveness inside you didn’t.

He glared at you, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he didn’t argue.

[campbyler]

get in bitches we’re going miwip whursday 🏎️💨

[themask-maker]

I never posted this before, but I like to think that at this part in Ch09, Ghirahim's reaction is because he immediately went into Anime Dating Simulator Vision™️ and he had to hit emergency reboot

[waylibee-analysis-firm]

gnawing my right arm off

[primevein]

The Prime of His Youth: Book V: Where There's Smoke: Ch09: Deafening Silence

Moose Runner tossed Landslide a lob as the 18 wheelers drove up.

Smokescreen waited for Landslide to catch the lob before speaking, "Well, fun's over."

"To be fair," Downshift firmly stated, "we're finally on the road. Not to complain, because working beside a Prime has been an honour, but..."

"This is slagging awesome!" Golden Hind exclaimed.

"Careful, Doe." Sierra said. Golden Hind looked down at her, seeing her raised her arms in the air. Without thinking she picked her up. Doe gave her a questioning look. "Our leader might see you being unladylike."

"Oh, slag off."

"I am quite comfortable." Sierra simply replied.

"As soon as they are in custody, we'll roll out to New Kalis." Smokescreen stated.

"Is that the best way?" Cinderstream asked.

"It's honestly the worst."

"Then why the slag are we doing it?!" Golden Hind exclaimed.

"Doe." Sierra admonished.

"What?!" she asked.

"This can't be good for your blood pressure." Sierra said with glee.

Golden Hind seemed to deflate. She then stood back up, looking down at Sierra, and then over to Downshift, "Do we even have blood pressure?" Downshift didn't have the answer, and so she turned to Smokescreen.

"Hm?" he asked, as he caught her gaze, turning back towards her, "Well, yeah, I guess. Our Energon pressure is carefully controlled, but unlike Humans, we don't have to worry about it going haywire. Unless you are bleeding out."

* * *

"We're approaching Moon Base Beta." Wheeljack said to Dodge on the Phthia's bridge, "They'll likely attack once we pass it."

"It's what I would do." Dodge stated. "Was this why you weren't included in Smokescreen's reports?

"What can I say, we're shy." Wheeljack sardonically stated.

"I'll go and setup." Moonracer stated, and transformed. Her drag bag split in two and turned into saddle bags almost as long as she was before driving to the nearest door, and then through once it opened.

"It's pretty simple." Bulkhead stated.

"False intel?" Dodge asked.

"That's the spirit." Wheeljack stated.

* * * The Decepticons opened the outer hatch, and stepped inside. As they looked about they saw the place surrounded in walkways for much smaller creatures. "You think they have pets?" one of them asked the others.

"I think you should keep quiet." another replied.

"The ship is abandoned?" another asked.

"It's not abandoned." the second stated, "Unguarded. There's one flyer left."

* * *

Eurawind looked back from the monitor, "The fuck?"

Zephawind rolled her eyes, "We were not included in the ship's roll before we left for Master."

"Yeah, but still." a petulant Eurawind uttered. "We did..."

"It's a secret, remember?" Zephawind asked.

"Now I really want to bash their heads in." Eurawind replied.

Zephawind looked at another moniter. "It looks like the last one's in."

"Let's go and fuck them up." Eurawind stated.

"You've spent too much time with Humans."

"To be fair," Eurawind replied, and paused, "it's pretty much impossible to spend too much time with Humans."

Zephawind sighed.

* * *

The moment the last of the Decepticons moved into the wide open hold, the first one was shot. It penetrated his backplate and struck his spark chambre. His eyes dimmed as he fell forward. The last three of the Decepticons tried to turn back to the door, only for Bulkhead to fill the space up to his shoulders. A black form jumped up to his shoulders. It turned out to be Phantom Rider, his face hidden behind the black of his visor. He leapt off of Bulkhead's shoulders as two other Decepticons were taken out with Seaspray's harpoons as another was shot with Moonracer's rifle. A loud clash was heard as Wheeljack jumped into the fray. This was quickly followed by the sounds of slamming as Phantom Rider used his chains to smash the Decepticons about.

* * *

Three Decepticons climbed out of the open hatch. They gravitized to the hull before leaping towards Moon Base Beta off in the distance. One of them transformed into a flyer, only to be shot from behind by the Battle Sisters. The other two completely vulnerable and alone as they were shot.

* * *

The Femme medic looked close at the Decepticon burnt by Cinderstream. She glared at him before looking at Ultra Magnus. "Was this really necessary?"

"I am not going to second guess a battlefield decision." Ultra Magnus stated.

"Just look at him!" the medic shouted, while pointing at the burnt Decepticon.

"I will remind you that Smokescreen is not just a war hero, who literally fought Megatron himself, and survived, but was also able to achieve all military objectives on Master without a single fatality." The medic then glared at Smokescreen, then Cinderstream, before looking back to her patient. "Even when fighting alongside Dinobots, he was able to achieve minimal casualties."

"This doesn't mean?!.." she exclaimed.

"It does." Ultra Magnus stated, and then paused, "But your objection will be noted in the records."

"Thank you." the medic strongly uttered.

* * *

Smokescreen's squadron drove down the road.

"Shouldn't we get a medic?" Golden Hind asked.

"Elite Guard." Smokescreen stated.

"We can just call them in?" Golden Hind asked.

"Hm?" Smokescreen asked, "The Elite Guard is non-regional. Our purview is all of Cybertron."

"Alright, but?.." Golden Hind asked.

"We have to coordinate with local forces." Smokescreen uttered, and paused, "It's mandatory. We are not here to oppress anyone, or inflict Iacon's will."

"He's saying we have to ask for help." Landslide stated.

"Then why the slag didn't he just say that?" Golden Hind asked, and got silence in reply. The silence felt more and more palpable, and more and more oppressive until she finally spoke up. "Why am I the only one talking?" Again, she got silence in reply. "If I wasn't talking, would everyone just not talk?"

Another great pause followed, until Sierra finally spoke up, "One thing you need to learn about boys, Doe, is that they can enjoy the quiet." Another great quiet followed.

* * *

Golden Hind pulled up to the gates of New Kalis, slowed down, and transformed, looking up at the conspicuous sign. She lifted her right hand to her right ear and opened the comm. channel, "Golden Hind here."

"Doe." Sierra quickly said in reply, following by dead air as Golden Hind seathed.

"There's no way that I'm going to..."

"Doe." Sierra quickly replied, followed by another pause.

"Oh, come on!" Golden Hind exclaimed, "Why am I the only one with a nickname?"

"Because it's cute." Sierra quickly stated.

"What about Moose Runner?" Golden Hind pleaded.

"Moose." Moose Runner stated, followed by another moment of dead air, as Golden Hind could not react. When she finally did, she nearly keeled over.

"Not funny."

"I thought it was supposed to be cute?" Moose Runner asked, and Golden Hind once again could not move, nevermind speak.

"How about Broken Crown?" Downshift asked, followed by a pause, "Because I'm a Crown. And I break things."

This time Golden Time actually fell down. She struggled to stand up. "That's not even cute."

"I'm basically a rooster." Cinderstream stated, and paused, "So, Flaming Cock?"

"No - SLAGGING - WAY!" Golden Hind shouted through the comms.

"Didn't she have something to tell us?" Landslide asked.

"She's at the gate in New Kalis." Smokescreen stated. "And she's too shy to go in."

"What?!" Golden Hind exclaimed, "I'm not shy!"

"Don't worry, Doe." Sierra supportingly said over the comms. "We'll be there soon enough."

Golden Hind screamed out loud, and then transformed, leaning onto her kickstand.

* * *

Smokescreen pulled up to Golden Hind, and opened up his passenger door. Sierra climbed out, and without missing a beat slipped onto Golden Hind's seat. Sierra gently pet her gas tank. "You ready to go?" she gently asked.

"Th... thank you..." Golden Hind stated.

"I will trust you to stop me from being stepped on." Sierra stated.

"You promise not to tell anyone how fucked I am socially?" Golden Hind asked.

"Can I call you Doe?" Sierra asked.

"You are really dedicated to this, aren't you?" Golden Hind asked.

"It's cute." Sierra stated, "As cute as you are."

"Doesn't being 15 feet tall stop me from being cute?"

"Not in the least." Sierra simply replied.

"You girls enjoy yourself." Smokescreen stated, and drove off. The others in the squadron followed behind him.

"And what are you boys up to?" Golden Hind asked.

"I'm going to pay the big guy a visit." Smokescreen stated.

"And the others?" Golden Hind asked.

"Going to have fun in New Kalis." Cinderstream replied.

"Isn't it a violent hell hole?" Golden Hind asked.

"Violent?" Downshift asked, "Definitely."

"There is a hellhole." Smokescreen said over the comms. "It's called the Pit, and everyone is to stay out of it without my approval."

"Roger." Downshift, Cinderstream, Landslide, and Moose Runner said at the same time.

"Doe?" Smokescreen asked.

"Yeah-yeah?" she replied.

"What's the plan?"

"Uh?.." Golden Hind said out loud, "What is the plan?"

"The lab." Sierra said over the comms.

"Call me when you arrive, and if you leave." Smokescreen stated.

"Yes, sir." Golden Hind stated.

"Yes, daddy." Sierra replied.

"Dude?" Golden Hind asked.

"Dudette." Sierra corrected.

"You call him daddy?"

Sierra sighed, "How have you not heard me do it?"

"Okay, alright, I mean..." Golden Hind uttered.

"You weren't paying attention." Sierra stated.

"I mean, I'm sorry, I..."

"I'm not mad at you." Sierra stated.

"You're not?" Golden Hind asked.

"You are so comfortable with me that you do not need to worry when I'm around." Sierra stated, and Golden Hind stayed quiet, but Sierra could feel how she relaxed.

[chaeinedup]

Hot and Cold

CH09- Dreamland

Warning: none :)

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