#hot rod tries his best; okay?

[soundcrusher]

How Hot Rod accidentally took over the Decepticons and became Rodimus

Hah, I did it! I finally finished this mess of a story!

And, honestly, it's pretty serious, until the end. Then it becomes somewhat weird.

Either way, @ut-girl666 and @gaybot-showdown, I hope the both of you will love this.

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Hot Rod should have listened to Kup when he told him to stand back and let Optimus deal with Megatron himself. The tank was his former friend turned enemy after all, but did that stop the young speedster from running towards the two and distract Megatron by engaging into a duel with him when the prime as down? No, it didn’t, and in hindsight, it was still a better idea than letting Megatron kill their leader.

Still, Hot Rod should have done something else, because then he wouldn’t be pinned down underneath Megatron. With the warlord’s weight slowly crushing him as if he was nothing more than a bug. And the worst part? There was no-one who could help him. Not with the Decepticons keeping everyone away, because apparently, if the leader is challenged to a duel, it means that no-one is allowed to interrupt. Something Hot Rod found ridiculous, because everyone’s interrupting Optimus and Megatron when they’re fighting together. What makes his fight with the warlord different?

What the frag did he do, when he yelled, “Hey, buckethead! You, me, one on one! Now!” Was that some kind of codeword for ‘I’m-gonna-kill-that-one-myself”? Or did it mean something else? Maybe he should have listened to Kub when he was explaining some of the Decepticons rules and such, but the lesson was rather boring and Hot Rod had better things to do. There was a race… and he wanted to go racing, not learn about ‘Decepticon’s rules of combat 101’.

Either way, he shouldn’t think about what was, but rather how he’s going to get out of this situation without dying or damaging anything. Which is easier said than done, because Megatron had him pinned and was about to dig his digits into Hot Rod’s optics, when the younger mech remembered his flames. And before Megatron could end his live for good, Hot Rod grabbed his opponent’s arm, giving the warlord a defying glare, before letting his frame heat up. Making sure that Megatron couldn’t escape him until his frame set itself on fire. Burning the tankformer and causing him to let go of the speedster.

But before Megatron could recover, let alone counter Hot Rod’s fiery attack, the smaller mech was already grabbing for the blaster laying near them and fired one shot. A shot that went straight through the warlords spark and caused everyone fighting to stop, as the shock of what happened settled in. At least, until a shrill shriek pierced the eery stillness that has spread across the battlefield.

“MEGATRON HAS FALLEN, I, STARSCREAM, AM NOW THE LEADER OF THE DECEPTICONS!” Although, as the flier landed and looked over his ‘new subjects’, none of them paid him any attention. No. All their optics were directed at the trembling mech who ended Megatron and was currently aiming his blaster at any Decepticon trying to come closer to him.

“Stay back! I’m not afraid to shoot again!” Screamed Hot Rod, and much to his surprise, the Decepticons stopped walking closer. Which the young speedster took as his chance to transform and drive off. Although, he didn’t make it far, because the Constructicons quickly transformed into Devastator and simply picked up the, by now, flailing Autobot at Soundwaves command. “Hey! But me down Decepticreep! I’m not a toy car for you to play with!” But the big mech wouldn’t listen and simply held Hot Rot like a misbehaving robo-kitten, while the smaller mech was doing his best to kick at the giants servo, not caring about if he would fall or not.

And while Devastator was making sure Hot Rod wouldn’t escape, Starscream was in a one-sided screaming match with Soundwave. Demanding to know what the cassette player meant when he said that he, Starscream, was not the new leader of the Decepticons, but rather that stupid Autobot with the obnoxious paint job. To which Soundwave simply shook his head, before commanding the Decepticons to retreat back to Austrotrain and return to Cybertron. Together with the kicking and screaming Autobot, who was quickly tossed into the waiting dripple changer and restrained by Hook and Mixmaster, after Devastator disengaged and turned back into the Constructicons.

And after the last Decepticons made it into Astrotrain, the shuttle took off, while the Autobots could do nothing but stare on and wonder what exactly happened that made them take one of their own and ditch the deactivated remains of their former leader. Something one of the Decepticons took a picture off, because seeing Optimus Prime with his optics as wide as saucers and Ultra Magnus with his jaw on the floor was just too good.

Although, the mood was quickly ruined as the remaining Decepticons started to fight amongst each other, because half of them couldn’t believe that an Autobot defeated Megatron and had a claim to the position of leader, while the other half stood behind their rules. Especially Soundwave and Starscream were at each other’s throats and ready to defend their opinions, when Astrotrain informed them that they might not make it to Cybertron if they didn’t lose and ballast. And with Starscream being Starscream, he suggested to throw out those who were already on their best way to the AllSpark. However, before anyone could grab anyone from the injured, Hot Rod decided to speak up.

“You can’t throw them out.” Said the speedster, while his spoiler lowered ever so slightly in discomfort as everyone stared at him. “I mean… yes, our chances are higher if we ‘dispose’ of them, but they’re your comrades. You CAN’T throw them out, just because they’re hurt.”

“Oh, really now? Didn’t you hear Astrotrain? We’re going to die ourselves if we don’t get rid of the useless ones.” Countered Starscream with one of his insufferable smirks, as he walked closer to the bound Autobot with the intend to throw him out first, but he was stopped by Soundwave. Who was glaring at the second in command through his visor. “Observation: Autobot defeated Megaton in a duel. Conclusion: Autobot new leader. Suggestion: Starscream follows orders.”

“As if I would ever take the order of an insufferable Autobot who knows nothing about us and our faction!” Seethed the seeker, but the communications officer did not move from his spot. Rather, he started to slowly push Starscream back, before addressing the rest of the Decepticons, while Hot Rod is left to bonder on what to do next. Kup might have thought him a few things, but never has he prepared him for this kind of situation. And he doubted that anyone from the Autobots would send someone to rescue him.

Not with them having to deal with the mess Megatron’s troops have caused.

Well, at least he didn’t have to help with the repairs. That was one positive thing in all of this, but the situation was still very bad for him. Especially with Soundwave looking his way every time he tried to move a little bit. And then there were the ones Starscream would have thrown out. They kept on staring at him, as if they owed him something or were expecting him to change his mind after all. So, Hot Rod’s only option was waiting and seeing where this was going. Then again, this whole mess could have turned out worse than he ever expected. But, to his surprise, it didn’t.

And after landing on Cybertron, Hot Rod was forced to learn everything he needed to know as the new leader of the Decepticons. Which not only included how to tell apart each of the Seekers, but also things he was sure not even Optimus had to deal with.

Like, making sure that Starscream wouldn’t poison his energon or make sure a certain big lipped mech wouldn’t go on a needless killing spree. Truly, Hot Rod, who was more known by his new name “Rodimus” by now, had his servos full and it often didn’t leave him any time for his own personal live or hobbies. At least Hook took him fishing sometimes and Soundwave always made sure that he was okay. And then there were all the others he slowly managed to befriend. Like Thundercracker and Skywarp. Which didn’t really come as a surprise to him because they were rather pissed at Starscream for trying to throw them out.

Although, there was also those who still liked him, but utterly unsettled Hot Rod. Like the Insecticons. Hot Rod was sure that the only reason they stayed with him was because he also kept them from being discarded like yesterday’s garbage. And then there was the whole situation with that masked mech. Yea, Hot Rod always made a big circle around that one or backtracked entirely whenever he was close.

However, being liked by some Decepticons and having most of the commanders behind him didn’t mean that there weren’t those who still hated the fact that a former Autobot was now leading them. And next to Starscream’s murder attempts, Hot Rod also had to deal with Decepticons walking up to him and challenging him to a duel. Luckily, he never had to take more than one, but it was still tiring. Especially with the peace treaty meetings he had to attend and that seemed to have dragged on for years now.

Speaking of which, he was currently attending one with Soundwave, Starscream and two other mechs he kind of forgot the names of. Although, one was definitely named something with Lock? Honestly, Hot Rod has never met that guy before and frankly, with the way Lock kept on staring at him right now, he was kind of happy about it. How did Megatron deal with him, or all the other weirdly bloodthirsty Cybertronians in his army?

“Hot Rod, what do you think of our propositions?” Asked none other than Optimus Prime, and Hot Rod found himself groaning internally at having to answer him.

“The name’s Rodimus now, Prime, I thought I told you that before.” Said the young leader, as he grabbed the data-pad containing the peace treaty. Although, he was quick to drop it as soon as he saw that his, and in extend his factions suggestions, weren’t accepted into the newest version. “Seriously? You guys didn’t even once think about adding the stuff we worked hard to compile? Do you know how long it took to actually get everyone to work together?!”

Hot Rod knew that looking impatient or angry wasn’t the best look for a leader, but quite frankly? He didn’t give two fucks about what Optimus, nor the other Autobots thought of him. They lost their rights to judge him the second he heard some of them call him a traitor for joining a faction he never intended to lead. “Like, it was already hard to get their respect, and even now I don’t have it fully. So, them opening up to actually give me suggestions on what they want in this is a huge step!”

“I can imagen Hot… Rodimus. But I cannot allow gladiatorial matches to continue, even if they have limitations and fixer rules than before. Let alone pardon Decepticons who committed crimes.” Optimus looked at the young speedster, searching for understanding, but finding none. No, Hot Rod only grew angrier at the prime before him.

“As if Autobots have never committed crimes!” This time it was Starscream who spoke up, and Hot Rod nodded in agreement.

“Also,” started the young leader, as he folded his servos before him and looked at every Autobot. Giving them a look, he learned while playing a game of earth poker against the Stunticons. “Let’s not forget of who the Autobots and Decepticons are mostly made up. You and everyone attending this meeting knows exactly what I mean, Prime. So, I suggest you better rework the treaty with our suggestions in it before you call me again.”

And with that said, Hot Rod stood up and left the meeting together with his entourage. Keeping up the appearance of a confident leader, but the second they were back on their ship and in their meeting room, Hot Rod quickly collapsed into the nearest chair. Whole frame shaking from the anxiety he felt before and during his talk with Optimus. However, there was also a sense of accomplishment because he just talked with Optimus, fragging, Prime as if he was nothing more than a co-worker with whom he had a simple disagreement. That counted as a win, right? Well, at least it felt like a win to Hot Rod.

But his mental victory parade came to a screeching halt, as he remembered that he wasn’t alone. So, Hot Rod quickly sat back up straight and motioned for everyone present to take a seat. And even as the one named Lock remained standing, the young leader insisted on him to take a seat. “Come on, everyone’s sitting. You should sit too.” Said Hot Rod with one of his winning grins, which only grew wider as Lock finally sat down. Only then did he start the small meeting where they discussed the new developments on the peace treaty and how the meeting with Optimus generally went.

Which gave Starscream another great opportunity to insult Hot Rod, because their young leader, despite having lived with the Decepticons for some years now, was still a former Autobot. And while the second in command started to go on a small rant about how the failures of their peace treaty was clearly Hot Rod’s fault, the former Autobot found himself slowly sinking in on himself. He really did mess up, didn’t he?

Yes, he did manage to get a shaky cease fire between the factions, but apparently, he was doing a really bad job with everything else. And Starscream’s words didn’t hep him either. So, to get his second in command’s attention, Hot Rod slammed his servos down on the conference table and stood up as small flames danced over his arms.

“Okay, I get it. You’re not happy with me being the leader, and you’re not happy with the peace treaty taking so long, but we already have a cease fire. A shaky one, yes, but we have it and I swear on my spark, if you do anything to ruin that, I will personally see to it that someone else is getting your position as my second!” Seethed the young leader. And Starscream was quick to answer, as he himself jumped up. Mimicking Hot Rod by slamming his own servos down on the table, just minus the flames.

“You can’t do that! I’M the second in command of this army, you can’t just take my position and give it to someone else! Who would you even give it to?!” Screeched the seeker.

“I don’t know.” Answered Hot Rod honestly, before a playful smirk formed on his lips, as he crossed his arms over his chestplates while cocking an optic ridge. “But I’m sure that I can find someone. There are enough candidates after all. Like Overlord. I bet he would be a WONDERFUL second in command. He’s quite the politician, isn’t he?”

“YOU WOULD GIVE MY POSITION TO THAT BRUTE!?”

“Oh? He isn’t to your liking? Then how about Shockwave, or maybe I should ask Thrust? I bet he would LOVE to have your job.” Chuckled the young leader, before quickly dodging a shot coming from Starscream. “Alright, alright. You convinced me. I’ll give your job to… hmmm… Lock over there!” And with that said, Hot Rod quickly ran out of the meeting room. Transforming as soon as he was in the halls and speeding off towards his favourite spot on the ship, while listening to Starscream’s offended screeches and Soundwave’s attempts to calm the raging seeker.

Although, something that confused Hot Rod greatly was the sound of another Cybertronian coming after him, or better said, following him as if they were his bodyguard. And low and behold, there was the mech named Something-lock following and keeping up with him. He even seemed to get closer with each second, and the fiery speedster found himself unable to shake his pursuer.

So, he gave up trying, even if he didn’t want to lead Something-lock towards the only spot where he could ever get some peace for himself. Which was basically a simple storage room big enough for two mechs to fight in, but Hot Rod decorated to look and be a lot more comfortable.

And as his pursuer walked into the room, the red speedster was already flopping down on a bean bag chair Soundwave got for him. Kicking his pedes up and resting them on the wonky coffee table he made from some empty oil barrels and an old metal door.

“You know, usually when I leave a meeting like that, I DON’T want to be followed. Hasn’t Soundwave told you that?” Asked Hot Rod, as he pulled out a data-pad from his sup-space and started to read some of the reports on it, before throwing it on the coffee table and groaning. He already did enough work today, Soundwave surely can’t expect him to do more.

Although, he was quick to sit up straight as he saw Something-lock pick up the data-pad and read over it himself. Still with that same and stoic expression he had during their attempt at making a peace treaty with the Autobots and their meeting afterwards. Although, Hot Rod soon enough could spot a small smirk on his unwelcomed guest, and it made him vary.

Usually, Decepticons only got those smirks when thinking about attacking someone, or shortly before he had to duck and roll out of harm’s way. But it seemed like Hot Rod’s worries weren’t needed, because Something-lock started to laugh, after finishing the reports.

“You really beat up Overlord with a metal bat?”

“I… ehm… yea?” Okay, Hot Rodd was confused. Like, seriously confused, because he was expecting the other to attack him, not commend on one of his duels. “Granted, the metal bat only came after I already did some damage with my fire, and I didn’t really ‘beat him up’. I just… hit him with it? But don’t ask me how I did it because I have no idea. According to my own calculations, I should have lost. Like, I shouldn’t even be here right now. I should be a smudge on the ground, or worse.”

“But you still did it.” Stated Lock, before sitting down cross legged on the other side of the coffee table. “Not many can say that they managed to survive one of Overlord’s fights, let alone beat him… with a metal bat.”

Hot Rod couldn’t help but groan. He specifically told Soundwave that this duel shouldn’t be as well documented as the others. Not only because he feared of what his challenger would do, if he found out that everyone could read up about their fight, but also because it wasn’t a big deal. There were many he had to duel with, especially at the start of his leadership, and it wasn’t anything special.

And yet, he could see the interest in Lock’s optics and that small, curved up smirk as he commented on how modesty didn’t suit a Decepticon leader. Which in return got another groan from Hot Rod, as he got up from his bean bag and walked over to a big chest. “If I show you the bat, will you drop the issue and leave it be?” He asked, and found himself repressing yet another groan as soon as he saw Lock’s smirk.

“Maybe?

“Well… good enough for me.” Was all the speedster said, as he pulled out a hot pink metal bat littered with small white flowers and the face of a cat with a bow. And dangling from the hilt of the bat by a chain was the exact same bat, only human sized. “Here, this is it, the weapon.”

“… Why is there a cat on it and how did you get that?” Asked Lock, and Hot Rod blinked at him slowly, before shaking his head. “It’s Hello Kitty, a very popular little cat and… I got it from a human child who’s very dear to me. Well, I got the small bat from him as a joke, and Soundwave got me the bigger one, after seeing it.”

“And you decided to keep it, because?”

“Because they were gifts from my friends. I would never throw away something I got from them.” Was all he said, as he put the bat back in its place, before returning to his own. And after that, it was quiet. But not in an uncomfortable way, but rather something aching to what it was like when Hot Rod spend time with his Autobot friends. Which got him thinking about the past years and how much he’s missing out by being here, rather than with them.

Although, even if he went back now, Hot Rod doubts that he would even be welcomed. His former friends and comrades made it clear that they didn’t trust him anymore, and if that’s how it is, then Hot Rod… no… Rodimus didn’t need them.

“By the why, what’s your name? I didn’t really catch it when you showed up.”

“Deadlock.”

“Nice to meet you Deadlock, I’m Rodimus.”

[rottingparts]

If you've seen the 2018 Bumblebee, could you do Bumblebee's reaction to his s/o being scared of him after seeing him get angry and his eyes turn red in that one scene where he fights those army soldiers and shoots everything. After Bumblebee turns back to normal, and reaches for them, His s/o backs away from him out of fear not wanting to go near him and runs away. ( temporarily from being scared and needs to collect themselves) how would Bumblebee react to seeing them be afraid of him?

I love scary Bee... he is scary and that's kinda hot... I wrote headcanons and also a fic that is under the read more!! Reader is GN!!

Bumblebee... Is devastated!

He didn't want to scare you... he was worried you were going to die and ew can't have that!

When he reverts to normal and grabs for you and you flinch back... Oh boy does he realize what he's done.

When he sees you running away his spark stops.

You're freaking out, wondering what went wrong (military found you, that's what went wrong...) and then see Bee crouched a little ways from you.

He is so willing to do literally whatever to make you feel better.

He reaches for you again, and you reach for him this time.

Never wants to make you this upset again. The absolute fear in your eyes?? Never wants to be the cause of that again.

When you get inside his alt mode, he will let you talk about what happened. He lets you vent and tell him how you felt. So receptive and understands why you were afraid.

Genuinely so sweet and tries his best to make you feel better.

-_-_-_-_-_-

“It’s okay!” You reassured the military surrounding you. “He isn’t going to hurt anyone!”

Your arms were up and you were trying to be calm. Your voice cracks were giving away your fear.

“Step away from the robot!” One of the men shouted.

You didn’t budge. Instead, you stood there motionless. Fear had kicked in fully, and instead of running or fighting… you were frozen. Your eyes widened even more when you noticed them closing in on you.

You were snatched up from in front of Bee, who was still being polite and quiet. Like you had asked of him in case anything like this were to ever happen.

“Remember, my love,” You would point up at him, “If anything ever happens, we have to stay civil! I don’t want something happening to you…”

So, he would be civil. For now.

You struggled slightly, your head turning towards Bee. When you saw other soldiers pulling out weird rods, you were growing panicked.

“No!” You screamed, “I promise! He isn’t hurting anything- He won’t hurt anything!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the soldiers began to electrocute him. A scream ripped from your throat, and your struggling became more violent. You kicked and screamed and your foot hit hard against the soldier's shin. Suddenly, you were flung from the soldier’s arms and you hit the ground hard.

You let out a loud cry and looked over at Bee, who was being held down by the soldiers. You looked back up at the soldier who had been holding you down, and noticed he had something in his hand. A taser.

“Fuck.”

Briefly, you were unable to move. You were processing and it wasn’t computing. When the soldier was over you, fight or flight really hit, and you were fighting. Violently. You grabbed the soldier's wrist and tried to redirect his hand. Your knuckles were white in an instant and you felt like you were fighting for your life.

“Please!” You screamed, hoping he would hear you over all the commotion, “We were just hanging out in the desert!”

When the soldier grabbed your wrist with his free hand and broke your grip, you were sent into a bigger panic. You began to wail. You were pleading for release. For the military to leave you alone. And then, Bee’s name left your mouth. A loud, unmistakable shriek for Bee. For your boyfriend.

That’s all it took.

Your eyes shut tight, and you waited for the taser to hit your side. The shouting around you turned into screams of terror and suddenly you couldn’t hear the loud cracking of electricity anymore. You swallowed hard and when the soldier above you yelled, you opened your eyes and saw the soldier was gone, and Bee was standing over you. His gun pointed at the military and his stance was firm. Your eyes met his, and your stomach turned.

His optics were red and his brow ridges were furrowed. He was pissed. With good reason. And, you were terrified. Also with good reason.

“Bee…” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

He did not listen. He began to blast the soldiers surrounding the two of you. Their vehicles became caught in the crossfire. Bee moved himself over you and became a shield between you and the soldiers. They were dying, their vehicles were bursting into flames, and all you could do was think ‘It’s okay! He isn’t going to hurt anyone!’.

“Bee!” Your voice was louder now. But he was still shooting. Shooting at soldiers who were definitely retreating at that point.

“Bumblebee! Stop!”

Your voice was sharp. It was loud and full of command. Bee came to a halt. The remaining soldiers got into the remaining vehicles and promptly left. You stood up, your gut wrenching and your legs barely holding you.

Bee turned towards you, optics still red. You blinked up at him. And briefly wondered if he, your cute alien robot boyfriend, was about to murder you. His optics go back to blue and you take a step back. He leaned down and began to reach for you.

Once you flinched back, Bee did too. He retracted his servo and cocked his head at you. Adrenaline was still going strong, and fight or flight was still kicking, and you were not about to fight Bee.

You took off running in the opposite direction. The desert really didn’t have too many safe places to hide, but you did find a large rock. You pulled out your phone, a special one Optimus had made for you. You could reach the bots at any given time.

“Optimus!” Your voice was hushed, and you were trembling. “Please! The military found us! I don’t-”

The sound of metal beside you caught your attention and you gulped. Bumblebee was a few feet from you. He wanted to give you space, but he wanted to be close so badly. He was crouched down and his optics watched you closely. They were still blue.

“Is everything alright?” Optimus’ voice came through the phone.

You wanted to say no, instead you hung and looked at Bee. Your back was against the rock. Your breath caught in your throat, and suddenly you couldn't swallow. You knew deep down Bee was not going to hurt you, but watching him fire at those men, that was fear inducing. Watching him become someone you didn't know was terrifying.

“I- Won’t hurt you.” Bee switched through his radio channels to talk to you.

He reached out for you, once more, his movements slower and slightly more mindful. You inhaled sharply and reached out for his servo. Bee seemed to beam when you reached for him. He gently pulled you up, helping you stand. He was quick to dust you off, sand covered your back and butt.

“Hey!” A yell came from a few yards away. You looked towards the direction the voice came from. Crosshairs… “What happened?”

You blinked a few times and looked back at Bee. “We were trying to have a date.”

“Date doing what?” Crosshairs examined the destruction. “Blowing up military vehicles?”

Optimus and Drift rolled in behind Crosshair, quickly transforming from their alt modes.

“Are you alright?” Optimus neared you and Bee, “You sounded scared.”

“I’m-” You paused, “We’re okay... Thanks to Bee.”

“Glad to see you are both okay… We’ll need to figure this out… Also,” Optimus looked at you, crouching down, “never hang up on me again.”

Bee moved himself in between the both of you and you only nodded.

“We need to get back to Cade’s.”

“I’ll go with Bee.” You looked up at him,and he made a beeping noise, almost a chirping sound.

“Obviously,” Crosshairs rolled his eyes, “you two are-”

“Shut. Up!” Drift interrupted. “I don’t want to know what they do!”

Bee transformed into alt mode and his door opened. You were quick to get inside. “Can we talk about that back there? I think I need to process all of that..”

[cozzzynook]

Okay the 'What if Orion and Shockwave swapped' kind of broke my heart. So I bring some hurt comfort for that ask.

After Orion has the twins Shockwave and Hot Rod do most of the care giving since Orion's Carrier coding is still some-what blocked out. It's difficult at first since the twins are fussing, crying and want the warmth of their Carrier but Orion just simply looks at them blanky with a mild annoyed glint in his optic and just...ignores them. Shockwave doesn't blame him he knows is just the shadow-play but it still breaks his spark every time it happens, as he knows there's a part hidden deep in Orion's spark that really wants to but he just can't.

Hot Rod is of course adapting...he knows how his little brothers feel or how his Step-Sire tries desperately to comfort them when they are fussing with little luck. So in his own way he does his best to protect them like the big brother he is. He uses his outlier ability to keep his brothers warm every time he hugs them or when he is near their cradle's when they are sleeping. It does wounders as Bee and Cliff stop fussing as much and start sleeping a lot better. Shockwave praises Roddy but he knows he shouldn't be putting this pressure on a sparkling so he gets some heated blankets when the twins are much bigger.

When Bee and Cliff are bigger with hardened amour Shockwave tires to get Orion to start holding them. At first Pax is a bit aloof when holding them carefully in his now clawed hands, the truck immediately tires to get Shockwave to hold them again fearing that he'll just hurt them with his claws. Its slow at first but little by little Orion starts feeling a bit more confident holding his bitties. Shockwave even once caught Pax feeding Bee with a bottle humming a old Iacon lullaby while letting Cliff nap gently on his lap, for Shockwave it was the happiest he has been in a long time.

Aaahhh thank you!!!!!

[theoceanoasis]

Could we get a Part 2 of Hot Rod is a predacon au?

Hot Rod is sitting in both his and Megatron's quarters happily purring away while he gaze at his nest carefully watching their eggs sitting inside. Meanwhile Megatron is reading a data pad just gentle petting his big scary dragon husband.

Even though Megatron was handsome and it would be a shame to kill him. He knew he didn't have another option. If he let him live he'd tell the others and he didn't want more people coming to find him.

He was about to kill Megatron and eat him. When he offered him something he couldn't refuse.

Seeing his empty nest he offered to help give him sparklings. Something he'd desperately wanted but with no predacons around except himself, he thought he'd never have any.

The idea was exciting and he perked up with interest. Having been alone for so long he decided to allow the mech to sleep with him and get him sparked.

Megatron not only delivered on his promise but he went above and beyond.

After he laid his first batch of eggs he'd been very happy with his instincts finally satisfied. He loved all of them so much and was an attentive carrier making sure his little one's would hatch.

He thought Megatron would run away now that he was free and go back wherever he came from. Instead he was surprised when he decided to stay and help him look after his eggs, being an attentive sire. Even though they were half his size.

Watching Megatron take care of their eggs made him start to fall for the mech.

Since he didn't have a mate he'd been prepared to take care of the eggs by himself, even though he knew it would be hard. He would somehow manage and make sure his little one's had the best life possible.

He was surprised when Megatron decided to stick around and help out. Wanting their sparklings to have a sire and unable to abandon them. Which means he was no longer a single parent trying to take care of everything by himself.

It lifted a weight off his wings and he found himself wanting to mate with the mech.

He was such an amazing sire and he wanted to have as many sparklings as possible with him.

It seemed Megatron felt the same way because he asked to bond. Something that made him very happy and they spent the next few days making love and celebrating.

Although he was upset about having to leave his cave behind. Even though Megatron said he didn't have to and that he'd come visit him. He didn't want to be without his new mate and decided to follow him. After the eggs had hatched and their sparklings were old enough they could transform into a bot.

Although Megatron reassured him the Decepticons didn't hold the functionalist belief that beast formers were wild animals who couldn't think for themselves. Telling him if a few beast formers such as Ravage.

He still worried about his sparklings being targeted or having to deal with harassment when people learned they were a predacon. Wanting to keep them safe he taught them to always be in bot form whenever out in public with other bots.

Although Megatron was in charge of the Decepticons he was not part of his army and neither were their sparklings.

Sometimes he'd occasionally help the Decepticons if the Autobots threatened his new nest at the Decepticons base. Otherwise he'd mostly stay out of it. Not wanting to get involved in their war and risk his sparklings getting hurt.

He thought Megatron would argue but was again pleasantly surprised when he agreed because he was the Decepticons leader he knew there would be some who'd target their sparklings to get to them. If any of them tried it he'd burn them to a crisp in retaliation for trying to hurt his sparklings.

Recently he's been confined to his nest after laying another batch of eggs and having more on the way. Since he was still filled with eggs he couldn't transform into a bot and didn't want to leave the safety of their home without his disguise.

Megatron made sure he was taken care of and that he was doing okay. Something he appreciated. The two were snuggled together with Megatron reading over some reports while he looked over his eggs admiring their beauty.

He purred in happiness nuzzling Megatron's hand because this was everything he'd ever wanted and something he never thought he'd have.

[pendragon-writes]

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓊𝓅 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Okay to start off this man would have no clue what to do.

Mans has never had a breakup nor has he had to help someone with one before.

But just because he's uninformed doesn't mean he won't try his damn hardest to try and do what he can, after all, you're one of the few people he cares about and can actually trust.

If you're on the task force and the two of you can't leave base he'd take you out at night to just talk and watch the night sky, cold or hot it doesn't matter, he'll just gear up on whatever weather it is and get you stuff as well.

If you're on the task force but can leave base then you two would just go to the nearby town or village, with him, of course, wearing something to cover his face, and going to the lakes or watch some dogs and have a nice talk.

If it's post 141 then you two would just stay at his place and watch or read together with his dog. But if that isn't your jam then you two would go on a jog with his dog with the both of you seeing who was the faster one.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soaps dated in the past and has had many breakups in his life so he is wholly prepared once he first hears about it from you, he heard rumors but he didn’t want to speculate anything until you told him yourself.

If you’re part of the task force and you both are unable to leave base he’d get you both training and exercising together until you both lay on the floor and just talk, he’d let you vent and tell him woes and be quiet and listen to what you have to say, if not he’ll just speak for the both of you.

If you’re part of the task force and can leave base he’d get you and the rest of the team out for some drinks and darts, he knows your upset about it, and instead of letting it affect you he tries and get you distracted, just for a little bit.

If it’s post 141 then he’d make a pillow fort (not like a boring one he actually goes way above and beyond for this) get your favorite shows or movies set up and get you some takeout and watch what you want together. He won’t care nor judge you for whatever you watch, hell he’d watch Barbie's dream house if it meant he’d be helping you feel better.

Captain John Price

This guy has also been through a lot of breakups, he’ll out of these 3 he’s the wisest when it comes to breakups.

In all of his breakups he never really got much support other than a pat on the back and a “That sucks”, and he doesn’t want that for you, after all, he sees you as one of his own.

Regardless of your gender, he feels as though you deserve support from him. Sure he may be an old man who isn’t that informed on modern-day lingo and norms but he tries to give you the support he would’ve wanted. 

If you’re part of the task force and can’t leave base then he would tell you some stories from back when he was just joining the army, stories that he hasn’t told the others, while it may seem insignificant the fact that he’s telling you these stories first is so that you know you can trust him with whatever it is you need help with (not with animals though, he’s not the best when it comes to them) depending on how close the two of you are will depend on the stories he tells you. 

Now if it's post 141 this man would take you fishing like the old man he is, sure it might not be the most exciting thing you might learn some new things, such as new bait or what rods work best (Look I don't know fishing terms so that's the best I got). But if you weren't into that then he would take you to a quiet but cozy restaurant and have a day just for the two of you.

[jackiequick]

The day she got brought in | Agents Of SHIELD Fanfic

Summary: What if the thing you were waiting for came at the the wrong time? Or in Amelia Parker’s case, when she was street racing in Puerto Rico to let off a little steam after being rejected by her schools.

Pairing: Amelia Parker & Grant Ward, Rick Banner x Luna Marsh

Characters mentioned: Phil Coulson, Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter, Grant Ward, Melissa Wallace and etc.

——

It’s been months. But it felt like years for her. She has been told time and time again she wasn’t surely good enough to be apart of certain schools. Regretted time and time for the schools she applied to. Only two accepted her but she wasn’t too pleased.

She never wanted to go to college to be exact.

But she need a career. She wanted a future.

Something interesting.

So she applied for SHIELD Academy at a certainly young age. She knew that SHIELD existed ever since she just a little girl, especially after the accident that happened at Stark Expo.

She thought there was a huge possibility that she would get in. Her cousin, Peter Parker, parents were agents of shield themselves before they died. On top of that, her aunt Bobbi and uncle Hunter are agents as well!

So she studied, practiced her skills and tried to explain herself in every letter as a someone who deserved a chance. A chance to help SHIELD future agents and heroes. Since Amelia was good at boxing, had a huge hand when it came to sewing, believing she’s pretty okay with a computer and had communication skills. Also well as scouting places and some design.

However after every letter and application, she kept getting rejected.

Then she thought it about, why am I not surprised? My grades aren’t too good, my only concern is that I’m too emotional for the field and my records were bad.

~~~~~

She’s a street kid for gods sake! Her actions didn’t measure up, hanging out with a so called “wrong crowd” according to the police, stealing parts and racing borrowed cars while earning cash on the side. The girl sounded like a young criminal.

And honestly she didn’t care, she loved it. The music, the people, the rush you get from being behind the wheel, the talks and the community built around it. The type of people she met made her smile.

There wasn’t too many rules and no one questioned whether you were good enough. Because if you ask a racer, any real racer doesn’t matter if you win by a inch or a mile, winning is winning. It’s all about passion and love for the lifestyle.

Currently she sat behind her wheel, sliding down towards the area where everyone was at. Her mind was running a mile a minute.

Puerto Rico baby! The smell of food from the streets, the music blasting from cars, people chatting with one another, laughing being shared. The men in and women were dresses in the best mood you ever seen.

People from every race and backgrounds crowded the area. It felt like heaven

Amelia parked her blue skyline in a perfect scene nearby a few shaded orange, deep green and hot rod red cars. She was dressed black short skirt, a deep gray top and a red flannel. Black sneaker. Her curls were loosely bouncing around as she walked over to a small group.

“Ahh! Look who showed up!” Yelled Nico giving her a hug.

“Girl we thought you weren’t gonna make it.” Shouted Kira chuckling.

“Be nice, be nice! She was just fashionably late to the party.” Added Jesse, joking around holding up his cash for tonight.

The group walked and talked, grabbing a bite to eat as they catches up with one another. Talking about their deals and how they were planning a small heist for extra gasoline to sell at Jesse’s shop. But first Amelia need to check out the competition and sneak into other locations to exchange a few items.

They were in a middle questioned when she asked.

Amelia rolled her eyes chuckling, “Your hilarious, all of you. Who’s the racing tonight?”

“Ok I’ll tell you!” Nico explained everyone who racing that night and even added, “You see the tall blonde over there with the pretty brunette around his arms? They’re racing the first round tonight.”

It nighttime so she couldn’t see them too well. Still she tried to looked over across the crowd, to see blonde with dark eyes carrying a cheeky grin.

And his girlfriend was wearing a puffy jacket and shyly giggles to what he was talking about. She taught they must’ve been an adorable little couple, secretly ready to wipe the floor with them.

She didn’t think too much of it. However her friend, Kira, was more interested in how they raced.

But they didn’t have to wait for long, since the moment Kira said, “Ready, set, go!”

They were off. And they were fasted! Rushing around the stores, turning up the furious speed, passing through a crowd of cars, and sliding across small obstacles to get to the finish line.

Impressive. Very impressive. 

The brunette won first, and a few others coming in at a close second. She screamed and smiled shyly at winning as one of the other racer went to congratulate her. The rest of the crowd clapped and cheered.

But Amelia wasn’t paying too much attention as she clapped, checking her phone and the corners of the road behind them.

Hoping cops didn’t came. Watching their backs.

When it was her time to race in the second round, she jumped into her skyline and joked with the other racers.

Once again, Kira started yelling loudly “Go!”. Amelia made it and snappy.

Turning up the NOS when needed, taking a left turn to pass another car and even flipped off another race who tried to cut her off. Speeding off, switching on the radio, laughing and watching the other cars driven past her.

In the end, she didn’t win but she didn’t care. She had fun feeling the rush behind the wheel, being free in her seat and all her worries were thrown away focused on the road instead.

But she hopes were broken, as Jesse yelled out, “Cops are coming!”

Her eyes widen muttering, “Shit!”

~~~~~

Everyone jumped into their races, speeding off quicker than expected. Once she hoped she was out of clear an hour later, Amelia sneaked into an small old facility of full cars.

She held up her flashlight towards the back end of each vehicle.

Beautiful. Each one styled differently and wonderfully useful.

She looked around to find the place empty as she snapping pictures and started to pop off the hood of an car.

The girl was lucky to find a gorgeous cherry red convertible. Hell, she would kill to just have this for a drive to the beach.

Before she could get her hands on soft inventor and possibly get a better look at this reliable beauty…

..she heard it.

She turned off her phone as she started rushing to hide behind boxes and corners. But she was too late.

She woke up, in the hallway nearby the exist. Blinking she turned to face a young man, not even 20 yet with dark hair and brown eyes.

He wasn’t bad but stupid.

“Eugene. I meant nothing.” She told him, with a sigh.

He chuckled, “So why the hell are you here?”

“You were hoarding cars, jackass!”

“They’re mine, babygirl and I’mma use them.”

“Ha! You stole half of them and redesigned the older ones. Pumping up the gasoline and ordering NOS.”

“You need a 5-second car.”

“10 second car. And I was just looking over them, honest.”

Eugene scoff, “You’re not half bad, Ames. But you gotta know not to mess with me.”

“I’m not sure about that. Be lucky it wasn’t, Jesse or Nico. You had worse than us.” She added, knowing they would do something crazier than her.

“Don’t ever come around here again!”

“No promises!”

Eugene made a move to grab her but she elbowed him in the face. He spinner her around, pushing her against the wall but she kicked him where the sun don’t shine.

~~~~

Amelia made a run for it, still ending up with a bruise or two. Pulling out her mini pistol, just in case. She wasn’t the greatest at theses things but still she tried her best.

She walked down the street, popping up her jacket and started up her engine driving off.

But when she thought her night couldn’t get any odder or worse. The polices she raced from earlier found her.

Amelia was thrown into a cell, hearing the police report about her as the cops walked away. She tried to defend her case but they only have half listened.

They cleared her up for the self defense part but still pissed off about what she did.

It was no use per say.

Amelia’s face dropped. It wasn’t her first time running around from the cops and getting caught up in a mess and it sadly won’t be her last.

It was the trill of life. She sighed as tears came rolling in, mumbling how stupid she was. No career, no school, no actually friends and possibly no one to bail her out.

Disappointed.

She was a good girl or at least that’s what she wants to believe.

She always did schoolwork but never past a lot of classes cause no one took the chance on her. Actually help her understand it! She treated her family with respect, earned money during races to help pay the bills, worked low jobs and such.

But never got a chance to prove herself, they always tell her that she need experience and or worse, no one believed she had the true patience to get a job done.

Everything felt like a balancing act for her. Keep her head up, even when she wants to keep it down.

Playing up the act of the cool, confident, somewhat edgy and sweet girl. The wannabe bad bitch who gossips, talks shit about others and let’s the rumors fly in.

But she ain’t really that. Yeah sure, she got a temper, gets stressed out easily sometimes and has a thick glare that meant she got shit she wants to get done, but still.

She doesn’t know want she wants. No one ever does.

“Miss Parker?” Said a male voice, light but thick.

She turned to face the man, standing up wiping her tears to get a better look. To her surprise it was too men.

One younger and somewhat fresher faced than the other. They were wearing all black, comb hair expect for the younger one who’s hair was a little messy, wearing sensitive shoes and shared a gentle expression.

“W-who are you?” She asked, softly with hitched voice.

“Agent Coulson from SHIELD.” Said the man, “You’re having one hell of a day, huh?”

“Grant Ward.” Said the other one with a half smile, “You’re younger than expected.”

She blinked with tears trying to figure it out how this happened and asked, “Wh-what? I—how?…oh god.”

“I know it’s tricky to explain. But we’re here to help.” Coulson said, seeing the poor look in her eyes.

“Really? No offense, but where were you months ago?! I sent letters, applications for programs, video of myself for a visual idea of who I am…”

“I’m sorry we didn’t come soon but you were rejected for some of our supervisors believing you were not trying enough.”

“Hell, I saw that videos and it was a little dry. Besides, you sounded like it wasn’t serious enough..” Ward added.

“Your hilarious, Ward.” Amelia replied with a half sarcastic tone, “Sorry I wasn’t what you expected. I’m sorry that I was not perfect enough for you guys. Especially you.”

“Yet, you lack self esteem, confidence and the strength that is needed determination for something.”

“Determination?! You rejected me! You don’t take a chance on anyone.”

“But I’m not wrong. Have you seen your records? Jail time, street races for money, and stealing from second hand stores. Do your parents know about this?”

“…i um…not exactly everything…”

“Exactly. If you had any bit of respect for yourself and self care, you would deal with what you have. Look where you are now. I just see a pathetic picture of a young woman.”

“Okay look, I screwed up big time! I don’t have any track record for something good or anything…but i know I can do the same thing as you! I’m sorry for what happened..”

“Sorry?! You don’t know what you want or what exactly is your play here. ”

“Hey! I don’t—”

Coulson spoke up, “Enough! Ward, play nice, not everyone has their hands full time in the world as you. And Parker, I understand that you’re not sure where you stand. I apologize on SHIELD behavior, but I was given a chance to see your responses..”

“And? Coulson, you and Ward clearly just came to do what? Bail me out or something? I’m a idiot according to him and he’s right..” Amelia admitted, sadly.

“He’s wrong. You done some bad things because you don’t feel comfortable or worth other peoples time. Your smart, kind, seemed determined to race together even if you didn’t win—”

“You saw?!”

“I did. Or at least I scout here who used to work with me did. But Amelia you’re not an idiot, you just need someone who can give you a chance to try and do good. Because you are good.”

“Who told you that? I’m not smart enough to pass a few simple classes or good enough for you before. You guys didn’t give me a chance to prove that I’m good for something…”

“Because I wasn’t there before and I didn’t have agent Lance Hunter to tell me about you. Your not exactly school smart for certain things, but your street smart and clever with a lot of stuff. Your easygoing, sometimes honest and if I’m correct, you see a lot in someone.”

“I..um..”

“I’m being honest when I say your not bad. Never were, just chose to go do something that others think is wrong. I’ll like a give you a chance to come study and work together with SHIELD. You may be nervous and not feel ready for it now, but I believe you might be.”

Amelia stay speechless hearing Agent Coulson’s words and the recommendations he heard from Hunter. She didn’t know that part. The only person other than her stepdad and mother to speak like that to her.

Even Ward had to admit to himself he read the whole letters and applications, finding it actually charming. He didn’t know what Coulson saw in her but he kinda like it.

The only thing she could do was nod rapidly because of how tired she was and unable to comprehend what happened. It’s late. It’s 1:40am.

And she was just offered to be apart of something she didn’t expect to get after wishing and imaging the role.

Ward went to front desk to bail her out with a smile. Once she was let out of her cell, she thanked Ward as he apologized for his comments earlier. He told her that he’s welcome to help her with any needs

Then she turned to Coulson with tears in her eyes once again, thanking him. He smiled softly pulling her in a hug, knowing she needed it.

Phil held her in his arms, whispering kind words.

Honestly he felt bad, he didn’t catch onto her case earlier and made a decision to bend the SHIELD Academy rules.

He would need to speak with Fury and Hill but he knew there were plenty of people like her who needed a chance to be heard.

He remembered that Darcy Lewis had a daughter as well with a interesting case, he decided to possibly message Hill later about that. Plenty of cases of young folk who would be suitable for SHIELD or a Team in the future, but they need that push to do so.

Coulson smiled, walking out with Ward and Amelia in his thoughts. He wondered what if they were to recruit a set of young people one day, they definitely deserve a chance to be seen or heard.

Amelia snapped him out of his thought, “So um, when do we—I start my studies?”

Ward spoke up instead with a soft smile to her answers, “Soon. In about less than a month. You will have me and a few other people to help you along the way, Miss Parker.”

“You can all me Amelia.”

“Then you can me Grant.”

Both smile, exchanging phone numbers. Coulson told her a few more things before they brought her back to the hotel she was staying at.

~~~~~

Once Amelia said her final goodbye, she locked the door to her room behind her and let out a small sequel as she bit her bottom lip. To say when the realization finally hit her was an understatement. She felt scared, nervous and maybe a little excited.

She wondered what if no one likes me? What if it goes bad my first day? Oh my god what if i suck and they kick me out?!

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Anxiety still in the front of her mind, but laying low.

Her mind was overwhelmed by the thoughts, as she picked up her phone to thank her uncle Hunter for the placement.

Little did she know the next few months will change her life forever.

Meeting one of her best friends Melissa Wallace, get to know a couple of crushes such as Nikolai Morozov and a few other friends. Even encourage Melissa to go on a date with a special girl. As well as a future lifetime of opportunity and memories to come.

—-

Thank you for reading! What did you think about it?

Pls like, comment, reblog and share with friends

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @parisparker269 @msrochelleromanofffelton @gcthvile @meiramel @hanlueluver @rooster-84 @superspookyjanelle @mandylove1000 @triptuckers @blackheart-beauty @yetanotherwells @withakindheartx and etc

[xkaidaxxxx]

Joey Wheeler x Reader

Sorry for any errors. Tried my best. Midnight writing.

Mentions: minimal nsfw, non descriptive murder, stealing

“Joey!” You yelled as 4 men murdered your families. “Y/n run!” He yelled holding your handing running as far as you two could run. “I’m scared.” You cried running along side him. “ Everything will be okay. We have each other.” He responded stopping with you as you lost the men running after you. “ Promise you wont ever leave my side Joey.” You said wiping your own tears. “I promise and you know Joey Wheeler never breaks a promise. Let’s find shelter.” He responded holding your hand looking around the woods. There should be abandoned homes. All that should be done is cleaning it up and hope for the best. “There’s one here up the hill.” Joey commented. As you looked up you saw a small cute home. “Our new home?” You asked sniffling after words. He nodded. It wasn’t that much of a walk. Joey entered the house first you followed behind. Scanning around it was perfect. You guys spent all night cleaning it up. “J-Joey I’m hungry.” He nodded grabbing the fishing rod and knife that was left behind. Probably from the previous owners. “Wait here. Let’s accommodate to eating fish..then we can go back to town.” He said reassuring you. You nodded as he left. You were 2 years younger. Joey had to put his big boy pants at such a young age.

As time passed by you obviously had to do anything to survive. You both became thieves. You sold food. Money. Expensive items and sold them for a higher price. It was a never ending cycle. “Formation A okay lets go” you told Joey. Joey distracted the owner of a shop that sold clothing. Money was low during this time of the season. Fall. You carefully chose out a few nice clothes. “Ma’am focus on me. Isn’t disrespectful to ignore a costumer?” Joey spoke acting like he was so offended. You left back to where you first started. Joey then left to the met up spot. “Whatcha get?” You showed him along the way home. “Nice. I love the colors.” He complimented on your sense of style. As you guys got comfy at home you tried on the clothes you chose out for yourself. Joey stared at you. Scanning every inch of your body. He licked his lips. “So?”you asked. He came back to reality. “You look great.” He said with a thumbs up. “Joey approved.” You smiled and there was a faint blush on your cheeks. Truth be told you idiots had fallen in love and neither made a move on each other. You then removed the clothing and put on the one you had on before. You noticed Joey staring. You took the chance. “Y-you can um..touch me if you want.” Your face was red. You couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth. “Oh yeah? That’s a dream come true.” He replied taking your invitation. Your heart was racing as he walked over and place a hand on your waist. You however didn’t waste any time and went straight for a kiss. Joey then kissed back caring you. You whined asking for more. “ You’re naughty. Made the first move and now you’re begging for more.” He smirked walking to your shared room. Your body was on fire as he laid you on the bed. You covered your face. “No need to be shy alright.” He said teasing you however you knew he actually meant it was out of love so you showed your face. “ You know I love you y/n. More than anything.” He said. Giving you a peck on the cheek. He progressed to lick your neck finding your sweet spot. You let out a soft moan. You wrapped your arms around his neck making out. Your tongues swirled together. Tasting each other. It felt amazing. Very hot. You both were very aroused and your sexes were proof. You both roamed each other bodies not missing a single thing. “ s-so good.” You whimpered as he gave your sex all his attention. “Yeah baby you like that. Be good f’me.” He ordered. You obeyed him. He had you under his control. It drove you insane on how good he’s making you feel. You were moaning and screaming his name. “ too much.” You said scratching his back. He stopped.You were panting heavily. You both calmed down. “I’m sorry baby.” He said pecking your cheek. “It’s okay. Just felt weird.” You confessed. Joey knew exactly what it was. He started thrusting at the pace he was going before. Your eyes widened. “Come on my love.” He said. Moans bounced off the ways. There were flopping sounds,squelching sound, evening slapping from where he left red marks on your ass. “Just let it happen okay.” He ordered. He grunted knowing he was close to his climax. “Joey!Joey!Joey!!” You yelled as your orgasm took over. Noting else mattered in the word but you two finally getting your happy ending. You finally got what you’ve always wished for Joey as your significant other. Joey wished the same thing. After many years of hidden love everything was finally revealed.

“I love you y/n.”

“I Love you Joey.”

[transingthoseformers]

Okay War Lord Twitch things that were ment to be implied but idk how well I conveyed them

Hashtag and Starscream never got to see Thrash turn into Taro Prime, Hashtag has no idea that Taro is her brother

Optimus was wounded while putting Megs, Lita and Bee in stasis when he got back to the base and started dying the only other bots around were Thrash and Hot Rod, Optimus isn't stupid he knows that this is way too much responsibility for a kid but he also know that the matrix won't last long and that the world needs a prime, he's not going to give the Matrix to a baby so Thrash was his best option, Optimus feels guilt about this as he dies

And to your comment about Twitch thunk about if Megatron ever felt like that, yes I love the idea of Twitch wondering if this was how Megatron felt I love the idea of her seeing the parallel but not acknowledging it, she knows she's like Megatron but she's right so it's fine and she was trained by him while he was good and it was unfair that he was taken away from her

Okay I caught onto that she didn't know yes yes

Damnnnn Oppy, he tried he tried so much

Yessss exactly exactly, she's caught on that she's following Megatron's path but she keeps justifying it to self and soothing herself by saying what she'll do differently and that she's doing it for the Right Thing this time. ohh twitch.

[wipples]

Ch 5 draft

Accident Prone

The room was steamy when she entered. Fog coated the mirror. She could tell Wally had to wipe a circle to see himself based on the round outline blurred slightly over.

On the counter are couple towels. She grabs the red one, holding it against herself to see how much it matched the sweater she wore. She smirked at herself in the mirror, posing slightly. The novelty of seeing herself animated hasn't yet worn off.

Throwing the towel over her shoulder, she carefully made her way over to the tub. Making sure not to dampen her socks on any wet patches Wally may have left behind. Then she slung the towel over the shower rod and pulled back the curtains.

First she removed her shirt, enjoying the sudden relief of having taken off a sweater in a hot musty room. Even though she couldn't see the arm hair, she could feel it slightly standing.

The rest of her clothing went on top of the counter in a sloppy pile. She stood there in front of the mirror, naked with her hands on her hips, contemplating. Then, she took the panties that were dolloped on top and placed them between the flaps of the folded sweater. 'Just in case...'

She nodded to her crazed expression in the mirror, then turned back to the tub. Her hands went for the nobs and turned them to the highest setting. Because Wally went ahead of her, the water hadn't needed much time to run hot. When stepping a foot in over the lip, she also reached for the stopper.

The tub offered plenty of room for her legs to stretch out. What might a cute little puppet like him need with all this space? Who knew. She didn't. That's his business.

The water continued to rush in and flutter over her ankles, relaxing the muscles there. As the water began to reach her hips, she remembered that her blue hair would also need washing, and yet she grabbed the red towel. Sighing to herself in mild annoyance and not wanting to stain anything that wasn't hers, she stood up.

A wet foot squished against the wood floor and she grimaced, despising the feeling of being wet and bare against any surface. Lucky for her, there hadn't been any dust or bits and pieces of any kind. Not that she could see anyway. The little guy seemed to take real good care of his house, or maybe Home keeps himself clean? She hadn't felt anything sticking to her when passing by the empty space a toilet should be, and snatching up the other towel.

While turning back to the cartoonishly white tub, she silently prays for its stain resistance. 'There aint no way anyone's natural hair is blue.' She snorted, 'Unless your Wally, I guess.'

She took a step, and slipped. The towel did nothing deter it. With a loud yelp, her naked body hit the floor with a pathetic plap. The breath was knocked out of her. Her forehead banged a sharp sound against the wood, forcing her to reach for it and squirm in pain. Little whimpers left her lips, inaudible from outside the bathroom. She didn't hear the door being knocked on over the water still flooding the tub, neither the muffled monotoned voice of Wally asking if she needed assistance. Her eyes watered, embarrassed at the mistake and the throbs of pain radiating from her head.

"Bunny?" She did hear him this time. Her voice was quiet and breathy, but audible to the puppet outside. "...yeah?"

She could still barely hear him over the water, but could still make out what he mostly said. "I asked if you were okay in there."

She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, wobbling on her legs as she tried to stand back up. "I'll be okay. Just hit my head..."

"Oh dear..." His voice became a little more quiet before speaking again. "Bunny?"

She returned to standing and nearly heaved at the soreness in her chest. Automatically accepting this pattern of questioning from him at this point, she responded weakly still. "Yes?"

She had the wind knocked out of her and needed a moment to breathe. It was difficult trying to extend her diaphragm, but she tried her best as Wally asked, "Do you need company?"

'What, so you could watch?' The voice in her head snarked rudely, but she understood the sweet intentions behind his interesting wording. She grit her teeth when she bent down to reach the fallen towel. "No, not in here. But thats very nice of you."

"That's good." She snorts at his quick response, involuntarily huffing a sigh after. She stood there for a few more beats, waiting for his voice to return. When it hadn't, she carefully made it back to the tubs lip and turned the water off. It was full enough at this point, and steaming.

Steadily, she sunk her leg in and watched the edges. Her eyes clenched at the heat and she sighed contently once settled.

The back of her head was cupped against the large tubs lip. She rested her eyes and sunk into the water a bit more, wishfully believing that the soreness will dissipate faster this way. There was a noticable echo in the room, much like what most bathrooms had. This made the small creaks of Home more noticable, even when she dipped her ears under the water. She just assumed he was speaking to Wally, and didn't pay it much mind.

A deep intake of breath later, and she dipped her head beneath the hot waters. Her legs had to adjust forward, and hike a little over the lip. She opened her eyes to watch the bubbles pass by her head. Her hair strung up above and around her cheeks like nuzzling ghosts. The ceiling is only minorly obscured by the glass wall of water hovered up above her.

With hair now drenched, she fingers through it and tries to scrub at her roots to loosen the oils that may have built up there. She stops suddenly and looks to her hands, then to the sides of the tub and on the counter a slippery distance away.

"...forgot to ask for soaps and hair stuff..."

With a grimace, she wobbles to a kneeling position within the tub, readying herself to stand again. But then, she heard something sliding behind the wall. Her eyes softened.

"Whassat?" she mumbled, not expecting, but not overly surprised by the wood panel in the wall opening to slip two bottles and a rolling brush into the bath. They plopped right in, with the bottles remaining buoyant as the brush sank and hit the bottom with a reverberated clunk. Her brows raised and she lowered her knees and slowly laid back to relax in the warm water. She meant it when she said "Thanks Home" as she dug around to find the brush that fell.

It was waterproof luckily, looked to be made for bathing. Her thumb ran over the teeth, then she twirled it in her hand a little before placing it on the tubs lip. She examined the bottles; shampoo and soap. Each with branding she didn't recognize. It's a classic look for a bottle, and lucky for her, not made of glass like many old bottles were before plastic was commonplace. It did lack an expiration date though.

She continued to eye it up and down, and figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

While lathering her hair, she hummed a tune. It was quiet and slow, yet managed to echo ever-so-slightly.

She would often sing proudly in the privacy of her own bathroom, but never around anyone. Even the few times she'd been invited to karaoke, she'd always sat out. She supposed she had to be cautious of somebody always being present now. Her eyes relaxed until fully closed.

When evening falls

she'll run to me

like whispered dreams

your eyes can't see

soft and warm

she'll touch my face

a bed of straw

against the lace

Once she determined that her hair was frothy enough, she sank into the water and rinsed. Shampoo contaminated the waters around her, and spread evenly until nearly opaque.

She held out the soap, processing what to do next. Usually, she'd have a removable showerhead for this...

It wasn't something she's proud of, but could anyone blame her for preferring to sit instead of stand? In the shower? It was one of her deepest comforts, and one of the only places she felt safe enough to 'ugly cry' as she'd call it. Not that she needed that right now...

Her eyes panned up to the very obviously fixed showerhead above the tub and continued to hum as she got up and began wash her body; removing the excess shampoo.

We believed

we'd catch the rainbow

ride the wind

to the sun

sail away

on ships of wonder

She grunted and furrowed brows at the soreness still in her chest when a soapy hand went to coat it. 'ugh.'

Without bending, she unplugged the tub with her foot, and twisted the nob for the showerhead. A hiss slipped through her teeth at the sudden cold water. It gushed with hot water a few seconds in. It only took her an extra half minute to rinse. It's a miracle she didn't leave any blue stains in such a white tub. Although, she didn't note any blueness in her shampoo residue either. Which was strange for her because she recently dyed it with cheapo, dubious quality stuff.

After shutting off the water, she ruffled her fine hair and dried off her body. Once done, she wrapped it around herself and stepped out carefully, not wanting a repeat of last time. It was still a little slippery, but not dangerously so.

In front of the mirror, she saw that her hair was messy from the towel. With an annoyed sigh, she grabbed the brush she forgot in the tub.

One of her hands raked the brush through her hair while the other wiped a circle in the foggy glass. It was etched right over the mostly faded previous one. As the fog dissipated, so did the majority of her blurry reflection.

'Can Home get mildewy?' She pondered, noting the absence of a ventilation switch. Bathrooms usually had those, but the cartoon house seemed to lack it. She knew that Wally lived here for a long time, and she didn't smell or see any signs of water damage. 'So probably not?'

While putting on her clothes, she made sure not to ruffle up her hair more than she had to. It looked silly in the mirror when she widened the neck hole to pull her head through. Her bangs stayed shaped, but the ends of her wet hair got sucked up in the turtleneck. She giggled and shook her head around to dislodge it.

Once everything was on and comfy, she folded the towel and tucked it under her arm. Opening the door revealed Wally standing at the door. The surprise send her nearly slipping on her socks, but the grip on the door held her upright.

Her weight made it squeak and she grimaced, shooting an apologetic look to the window in the distance. Home didn't seem too phased by this, he almost looked tickled by it actually. She rolls her eyes. 'At least I'm wearing clothes this time.'

"Were you standing here this whole time?"

"No."

"...Okay." She released the nob, it clicked back and forth for whatever reason. Home just does things. "Well... what do you want to do?"

"Oh! Well, I had hoped we could still paint together." Her eyes sparkled at the suggestion and she nodded eagerly. "Ooo, you're right. Let's do that."

His pupils dilated and he lead her over to a pair of simple black loafers on the floor. "Home helped me find these. Would you like to try them on?"

"Oh, woah." Her lips parted. She glimmered as she slipped them on and sampled a few steps.

"Thank you, Wally. They're perfect."

He beamed and tugged on her hand in the direction of the door. "I can't wait to see what you'll paint, but I'm sure it will be lovely either way."

"Oh, aren't you a charmer?"

She giggles, making their way down the hall and into the living room. Two easels had already been set up, along with chairs, paintbrushes and a few pallets of paint. She guessed he sat all this up while she was bathing, or Home did it. 'but what would *that* look like?' She wondered, unknowing to the full extent of what Home could do.

Wally's hand left hers. He dangled his little legs over the seat in front of the farthest easel, then waited until she also sat down before picking up a brush. He held it in his fist, as opposed to holding it between the index and middle. His eyes crawled along the tall expanse of white paper, then to her currently seated form. She had also been staring at the blank sheet, contemplative and quiet.

"You know, whenever I can't think of what to draw, I would look outside for something pretty. Or I would ask Home, or Barnaby..." She held a paintbrush and looked up from the paper to him, then to the bookcase, and back to him.

"I'd regularly use books for inspiration," She's sort-of fibbing here because the Internet doesn't count as a book, "-but sometimes I'd look at artist portfolios too. I don't think I've ever asked anyone what I should draw before."

"What's an artist por-folio?" She has to keep reminding herself that he came from a kids show. They probably wouldn't teach anything like this on 'Sesame Street.'

"A portfolio is a collection of stuff you've done that's supposed to impress jobs." As she explains this, Wally watches the paintbrush in her hand wave around with interest.

"People often have a folder somewhere with a bunch of pictures, or drawings, or whatever they want to show, and they could get hired if the job likes it." When she finished her thought, his eyes flickered with confusion.

"Why would somebody need to impress a job?" This concept was difficult for him to grasp. Wouldn't anyone be happy to have the extra help?

"Well, people need jobs to make money."

"Money...?"

'Oh lord...' She breathes a sigh through her nose and spins her knees to face him completely. "Do you not know what money is, Wally?"

He shook his head and copied her position, also wanting to face her better. She flounders for a moment, but Wally waits politely for her to find an explanation he might understand. "So, you know how you need stuff. Right? Like...clothing? or paint?"

She avoids mentioning food because the conversation had strayed way too far from painting, any more rabbit hole questions and they may never start. He nodded and verbalized his understanding. "Yes."

"How do you get this stuff?"

"Hmm..." His eyes left hers and he sounded a little further away. "Well, my clothes were made before the show aired. I don't know who made those..."

"...but..." His voice picked back up. "Howdy is who I go to for new paint. I hope we can make it last until Barnaby comes back."

'Oh, gosh...this is heartbreaking...'

She refused to say it out loud, but she knew there was hardly any hope left for the little guy. If she hadn't come down here, he may of been stuck forever. Or at least until some other explorer decided to pick up a random ass toyphone from a building off in the middle of wherever. Of course she's also trapped now, but 'that's whatever.'

This is not the time for such a dark topic, so much like her previous mental decision, she avoids mentioning Barnaby and focuses on the current topic. There's a static-like sound off in the distance, and it causes her to dart around her eyes for the source.

'Thats weird...' It immediately stopped when she actually thought about it. Wally's pupils shrank significantly without reason. Maybe that was just really weird tinnitus? She foregoed bringing attention to it, and continued their conversation.

"So... with Howdy, Did they want something in exchange for the paint?"

"Yes. Howdy accepts jokes as payment because laughing makes him happy. Do they not do this where you're from?"

"Jokes? Well... goddamn..."

'If only...'

She blinks at Wally when he mildly chided, "That's not a very nice word." Her hands loosely raise in play-defeat and she mutters a quiet apology. The weight of his stare tells her that he's still waiting for an answer.

"Well... I've never heard of anyone using jokes as currency, so I can't say nobody does that... But, I feel like I'd at least hear about it."

She stiffly half shrugs, then turns slowly in her seat. He leans outward in his chair to better see her face, but she purposely positioned herself to where he couldn't. His watchful eyes were beginning to take hits off her confidence. She was bad with eye contact and only hoped he understood without telling him.

He was so lightweight, she didn't hear him hop off the stool, nor notice him grab a book until he came back into view next to her. It startled her, but she only mildly jumped in her seat. There was no reaction from him at this, instead he lifted his short arms out to her that held the book. "You said that books help you with inspiration. Would you like this one?"

It was a book that looked to be about local biology, but the animal on the cover didn't look anything like what she recognized. It was far too colorful and cutesy to exist, even in this cartoonish reality. Her expression slacked in response to his bright eyes and open body posture. "Oh, woah."

She placed a hand on the cover and ignored the tingling warmth spreading across her face. "Awe, thank you... This is exactly what I needed."

Wally's eyes seemingly twinkled at the response, glad to have given her happiness. He felt the pressure behind his synthetic eyes relax. "You're welcome, friend."

He went to her side as she opened the book. She gently pet his shoulder when he leaned over, nearly draping himself onto her. While flipping through, she couldn't help noticing it had one of those old fashioned 'Property of' pages with an actual signature where the line is. There, in neat, cursive handwriting was Frank Frankly.

'Was he borrowing this?' She didn't take him for a thief, but the idea of the little guy running around and stealing small things lifted her lips to a smirk. When turning over another page, she set her sights on the most pinkest, fluffiest thing anyone could ever call an insect. Much like the animal on the cover, it was unusual and not representative of anything that exists in the real world.

'nah.'

She flipped the page.

After a few moments of flipping, they both ended up agreeing to paint a red flower one of the odd, colorful creatures stood on. Bunny felt it would be less stressful to focus on something more recognizable. Generally, Wally loved drawing flowers, but not more than drawing his friends.

He picked back up the book with the page still held open, and placed it down on the short table between their two seats. His company had already began painting before speaking again.

"I did want to mention that I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so it might take me a bit to finish."

Wally peered up from dipping his brush in water to open-mouth smile at her. "That's okay neighbor, It takes me a while too. I don't mind though, I like painting."

"It is nice..." She squints at the book, trying to plot out a particularly detailed portion of the plant. "I've never painted with anyone before. Nobody's ever asked, I guess."

"I think it's always nice to paint with company. If you want, we can try other creative things together too."

"Well, I dunno' if I can say no to that."

'Or you.' The little voice in her head piped. It would be difficult to say no to that dashing little face. Her cheeks burned. He laughed, as if he heard what she thought. "Ha ha ha."

Even though his voice never reflected it, the longer she looked at him, the more she started to think his usual smile was more smug than what she originally perceived.

[blubrown9637]

Hello? Is someone there?(Undex and Kup fanfic)

Another fic I’ve decided to make, this time dealing with Undex first meeting his grandsire and not knowing it. Shout out to @blustering-old-fool who helped me with the idea for this fic.

———————————————————————

“Sorry son, you know I love you right?”

Undex only looked down and puffed out his cheeks. “You always say that….and then you always leave…” Undex tries his best not to tear up. Rodimus bents down on one knee and sighs “Sorry Undex but I have responsibilities of the shi to take care of. Even if I’m co captain now…” Rodimus whispered the last part a bit begrudgingly.

“Yeah I know…” Undex whispered, he really wanted to hang out with his dad today, it had been way to long. “Nope. None of that now!” With that Rodimus swiftly picked Undex up and kissed him continuously on his cheek, something he knew Undex hated of course.

“EW! EW! STOP! I’M GONNA GET DAD GERMS!” Undex chuckled while tiny servos playfully swatted his Sires face plating. “Then now pouting! You creator should be back in an hour.” Rodimus gently plopped Undex down and rubbed his helm. “Promise me you’ll be good okay.”

Undex makes a small smile back “I promise!” And with that his dad was gone. Undex sighed and walked around the habsuite, it was littered with his toys and creators things. “Well I should at least try and put these up…” hem mumbled to himself. Undex picked up the data pads and went to his parents closet, while on his quest to actually tidy up for once he manger to find an old unfamiliar data pad in the box. It didn’t take long for Undex’s Sparkling curiosity to get the best of him. Plus he was bored.

So very bored.

Undex blew dust off the old data and smiled, maybe he could find some cool videos of his dad on here! As Undex scrolled through the data pad he noticed what looked like a younger version of his sire, but he looked way different. Maybe he had to grow into his looks later?

There were several pictures of Rodimus with a bunch of unfamiliar bots and what looked to be humans! But what stood out the most seem to be one reoccurring bot next to him, usually smiling or shout at him about something. Regardless what it was sire seemed glad that he was around, then he scrolled to the very last picture with the two. It showed him and the bot side hugging as the person behind took the picture, underneath it scribbled:

“If you ever want to hear from me or my old stories again make a call kid.” Sincerely “cup?”

The name was glitching a bit, but that’s what it looked like at least. Undex stared at the com line number for a bit, this bot had good stories? Using his com line was a big “no no” for Undex at his age, but talking to strangers was twice as bad.

“Well…if dad had so many pictures of him, he couldn’t be a complete stranger…right?”

Undex pondered to himself as he stared at the the numbers. “Screw it.” He was dialing this mech he needed answers and possibly entertainment. Undex waited as the dial up noises began, he wasn’t even sure if this line would still even work-

:….Hello? Hello? Who is this?:

An old bot answered, he actually answered it!

:Is this you kid? You there?:

Well there’s no turning back now!

: "H-Hi.. I read a datapad that said you tell stories... can I have one?": he spouted in a innocent and child like tone.

:I mean…yah but who's this? This is hotrods private line..?":

Undex squinted a bit at those words, who was hot rod?

:"I'm undex, hotrod? Sires name is Rodimus…did you mix up your bots? You must must have spelled your his name wrong":

The other line was silent for quite some time before the old mech answered again. : “....Yah it's rodimus….my apologies.“: Undex smiled, so he did remember his Sire.

:“Anyways- you spell your name with a “k” not a “c” that’s weird.”:

:“ Yep that’s the weird thing about this conversation…and kid, you're name means underwater explosion... you're Sires not the brightest"

Undex groaned :” Oh yeah at least my name sounds cool! Besides my Sire and creator made my name!”:

Kups sigh could be heard across the com line. : ".....why am I arguing with a toddler":

Undex grumbled again :”stupid”:

Kup :“tiny”:

Undex :”old”:

Kup :“baby“:

Undex :“ugly”:

Kup :“Short!”:

Undex gave an exaggerated gasp, how did know?! :”Undex just goes “Yeah! You sound old, how do you know my dad anyways?”:

:”Well that’s because I’m his adoptive Sire-“:

:”WHAT!”: Undex jumps from his seating position out of shock.

:”whoops…”: Kup honestly wasn’t ready for today. First he got a call from Hot Rod which he hadn’t heard from in years, now he’s talking to a Sparkling who didn’t even sound to be 10 vorns. knew from the moment Undex corrected him that this was Rodimus’s kid. Dear primus….

:”Listen kid…”:

:”…. I have a grandsire?”: Undex whispered.

:"Yeah….you do”:

Undex face slowly lite up with joy :”I HAVE A GRANDSIRE! I HAVE A GRANDSIRE!”: Undex cheered jumping up and down.

Kup chuckled to himself :”Yep I’m your grandsire, I’m surprised Rodimus didn’t tell ya earlier.”:

This boring day just got ten times better, Undex always wanted more family members and now he has a grandsire! :”I have so many question-“:

“Undex sweetie! Where are you? Aaaww did you try and tidy up.~”

Uh oh that was definitely his creator, he had to go. NOW.

:”Um my creator just cam back, I have to go now….but can we talk again soon grandsire? I still wanna hear some of your stories.”: Undex asked ever so innocently.

Kup chuckled once more :” Don’t worry Undex I’ll make sure to tell plenty of stories to you. Now go to your creator, she’s probably worried sick.”:

Undex smiled :”Okay see you later grandsire!”: Undex then ended the com line and hid the datapad. He couldn’t wait to talk to his grandsire again.

———————————————————————

It had been a whole week since Undex heard from Kup. He had started to get worried, he’d didn’t tell his parents about this but did they figure it out already?

Undex was walking down the hallway dialing the number again. This was his fifth time already.

Please pick up. Please!

:”Hello?”:

“Hello kid.”

Undex jumped and turned around at the raspy yet familiar voice. His optics widen out of pure joy.

“…So your my Grandson huh, I knew you’d be tiny but-“

Normal Undex would be angry at comments on his height, but he was to overjoyed to care. “GRANDSIRE! GRANDSIRE!” Undex cheered as he went to hug his ped.

Kup just scoops him up, and ruffles his helm a bit. " I told you I’d get back to ya didn’t I. It's nice to meet you, lad.. I'm Kup.."

Undex lifted his head Undex: “”K-U-P” right? That’s still weird!” he then let’s out a laugh.

He definitely won’t be bored again anytime soon!

[thebluemango]

Devils in the Details

Day 11: “911, What’s Your Emergency?”

Makeshift Splint | Self-Done First Aid | Sloppy Bandages

No Capes AU

Whumptober 2022

Note: I took French in high school, all Spanish is Google Translate.

Could be read as slash, could be read as platonic friends --- up to you

            Dick woke up slowly, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks before he opened them.  He found himself staring at stark white ceiling paint. He was laying on a bed, that much he could tell. He could also tell it wasn’t his bed. He blinked a few times as he tried to get his barring, he turned his head to the left and then to the right before pushing himself up straight. White hot pain shot through his left arm, and he cried out, collapsing back into the pillows.

            “Easy there, Richie Rich, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

            Dick’s eyebrows shot up and he turned sharply toward the voice. Sitting in the corner of the room with a book propped on his lap was a man. He was wearing a brown leather jacket with a red hoodie underneath and dark blue jeans. 

            “Who’re you?” Dick tried his best to sound demanding, but instead he found himself squeaking out the words.

            “I’m Jason. And you need to lie down.” Jason popped a bookmark into his book and the dropped it onto the small table to his left, then stood up to stand next to Dick.

            “Is this a ransom thing?” Dick looked down at his throbbing arm. There was, what looked like, the end of a wooden broom, secured with white fabric splinting his arm.  In between the two rods was messy, stained red gauze, tapped to his arm with scotch tape. “What did you do to me?”

            The other man frowned at him and crossed his arms over his chest, “I didn’t do anything to you.  You have compound fracture of your radius and ulna. Which was, by the way, not from me.”

            Dick blew a strand of hair out of his face and grunted, “Why should I believe you?”

            “Believe what you want, but I’m trying to save your life.  Roy says we’re just going to go pick up a package for the boss, ‘I’ll take Jason and Tony’ he says. No big deal. I could use the extra money, man’s gotta eat. Then, we roll up to the diner on fifth and Richard fucking Grayson comes out. Next thing I know, Tony’s checking the ammo in his Glock and Roy’s unlocking the door and we’re shoving you into an alley.  You fell real hard, broke the fuck out of your arm, saw your bones, and then passed out.”

            “Okay, so where’s the part where you’re saving my life? Because it sounds like you and your buddies kidnapped me.”

            “We were supposed to kill you. But, I didn’t sign up to kill no body, definitely not the son of Bruce Wayne.”

            “Ex-Ward.” Dick spits back.

            “Ward-ever. Either way, we’re supposed to kill you to pump the breaks on the grant going to reform Crime Alley. Figure, Wayne isn’t going to pour money into the place where his son got killed.  The money is going to create legit jobs, push out a lot of the gang activity, and put emergency services in the neighborhood.” Jason looks at Dick, his eyebrows are knitted together into a frown. Dick looks back with his own confused frown,

            “Okay, so why didn’t you kill me then? Are you not… in a gang?”

            Jason scratches the back of his neck and shrugs, “No one wants to be in a gang, not really, but when you live around here, you’re either with a gang or you’re hungry—sometimes you’re both. I’ve lived here my whole life, yanno Crime Alley. I… I don’t want to pump the breaks on the grant.  It’s goin’ to help a lot of people; my friends and my neighbors.”

            “That’s… That’s fair.” Dick hums and runs his good hand through his hair, “So what now, Jason?”

            “I don’t know. I gotta get you to a real police station or maybe Wayne Enterprises. But, they’re lookin’ for us. We can’t just walk out of here. I don’t have my phone and neither do you.” Jason strides away from the bed to the window to crack open the blinds and peak out. “I give it a few more hours until they’re busting doors down.”

            Dick grunts as he pushes himself up onto his uninjured arm and then into a sitting position, “Then we have to go before they do that.”

            “Your arm is really broken!” Jason looks at him with wide eyes, his arms out in front of him as if he’s ready to push Dick back onto the bed.

            “If they’re going to start busting doors down, then people are going to start getting hurt. We need a plan before it comes to that.” Dick throws his legs over the edge of the bed with effort. “Is there anyone in this building who can let us use a phone?”

            “Everyone is scared, Richard.” Jason’s voice is low and serious. “No one is going to help us at the cost of their life.  Reform grant be damned.”

            “Dick.”

            Jason’s eyebrows fly up, “Excuse me?”

            “That’s what people call me, not Richard, Dick.” The older man shots Jason a crooked smile. “And there has to be someone who will help. People are braver than you would think.  Like you.”

            Jason’s cheeks visibly blush, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, Dick, what do you think we should do.”

            “We’re in an apartment building, right? We need to make a phone call.”

**

            How Jason got roped into running up three flights of stairs with his red hood pulled over his face, he isn’t quite sure.  Regardless, he’s knocking rapidly on 23C with his mouth pressed to the seam of the door,

            “Carmen, por favor, soy Jason.” Carmen, please, it’s Jason. “Por favor.”

            “Tienes que ir, Jason! Ellos van a saber que estas aqui! ” No you have to go, Jason! They’re going to know you’re here.

            Jason presses his forehead to the door, and knocks one more time with a closed fist, “Lamento venir aquí! Necesito tu ayuda! Necesito usar tu teléfono!” I’m sorry to come here! I need your help! I need to use your phone!

            “Yo tengo una familia, Jason!” I have a family, Jason. His heart aches at the desperation in her voice, he knows she’s scared. He’s scared, too.

            “Una vida major para tu familia, Carmen.” A better life for your family, Carmen.

            There is silence on the other side of the door.  Jason’s shoulders hunch in defeat. That was it, she was the only one.

            Just as he is about to turn away and head back to his apartment to think of a plan B, the door is cracked open. He turns sharply to see a small hand pushing a cheap prepaid cell phone across the threshold. The woman looks at him with wide eyes,

            “Para mi familia, Jason.”

            “Gracias.” Jason nods in thanks, scooping up the cell phone and then taking long strides back to where Dick was waiting. He practically throws the door open and then slams it shut behind him, holding the phone out in victory.

            Dick throws him a wide smile, “I told you, Jay, there are always brave people.”

**

            “We can’t call Bruce. His line is secure, unknown numbers won’t get through.  We could call Wayne Enterprises, but you never know who’s going to answer or how far this goes up.” Dick taps his finger against the hard wood of Jason’s dinette.

            “People at W.E. want to keep Crime Alley a slum?” Jason frowned with confusion, what do rich people care about Crime Alley?

            “There are a lot of investors against it. They don’t want to put the Wayne Enterprises name on it, but shoving money into a community isn’t going to inspire change.  The support of WE is an essential part. The Wanye’s get the final say since we have the biggest share.  There are good people everywhere and bad people everywhere, Jason.” Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. “Who can we call who wouldn’t be tapped?”

            “Do you have a friend who could come get you?” Jason asks optimistically. “A friend with a bulletproof car.”

                        “Us.”

            Jason’s face morphs into confusion, “What?”

            “Someone to come get us. Or are you not going to get offed the minute your boss finds you?”

            Tony and Roy were probably singing like canaries about what Jason had done. He winces, “Okay, and Carmen and her family.”

            “Okay, we’ll fill up the hypothetical car. Let’s work on getting a car first.” Dick’s eyes light up for a moment. “We can call my brother.”

            “The one from TV? Isn’t he like seventeen?”

            “Unless you have a better idea.” Dick waits, looking at Jason with a knowing expression. The younger man just shrugs and pushes the phone towards him. Dick makes quick work of punching the numbers in and the both of them hold their breaths as it rings.

            On the third ring, the line opens up and there’s a heavy sigh, “I’m not buying whatever your selling—”

            “Robin.” Dick says sharply. Here is a moment of silence on the other line and for a moment, Jason worries that the boy has hung up.

            “For serious?”

            “As a heart attack.” Dick presses his lips together and waits again. There is more deafening silence before there is shuffling on the other end of the phone.

            “Okay.”

Then the line goes dead.

Jason looks at Dick with his mouth open in a surprised ‘o’, “That’s it? We risked other people’s lives for that. For you to say five words to some teenager?”

Dick glares at him and crosses his arms, “Tim will know what to do. We need to get to the roof.”

“This is just great!” Jason stands up abruptly, pushing his chair out from the table. “You rich people really live in your own little world, don’t you? What does it mean? Is it an extraction code or something? You don’t give a fuck about us!  You get to go home to your cushy life while we all rot here.  I bet you’re going to tell your dad to pull the funding, too! Do understand the sacrifice a woman might have just made to get us that phone? A woman with two kids. And you use that to call—”

Before he can finish, there’s a loud banging on the apartment door,

“We know you’re in there, Todd! Get your ass out here, with Wayne’s kid, or we’re going to kill your friend.”

            “Por favor no!”

            “Listen, Jason.” Dick uses his good arm to make Jason look at him, focusing his horrified look away from the door and to the older man. “I know it’s hard, I know you’re scared, but I need you to go out the fire escape and up to the roof.”

            Jason splutters, shaking his head back and forth, “They’re going to kill her!”

            “Hey!” Dick’s words are quiet but firm. “They’re going to kill all of us if you don’t do as I say.  It’s probably going to take Tim thirty minutes to get here.  When he does, because he will, the team he sends is going to need someone to be up on the roof.”

            “The roof? Dick what are you talking about? This isn’t a spy movie! I’m not just going to run away while they kill Carmen! I—”

            The banging continued. The door to Jason’s apartment was fairly sturdy and had good number of locks on it, but it wouldn’t stand for ever.

            “Remember that bullet proof car we talked about?” Jason nods. “Well, there’s no car. It’s going to be a helicopter and the guys in it are going to need to know exactly where we are as soon as it touches down.  If you stay, your friends outside are going to shoot you in the head, then your friend, and come look for me. It has to be you, Jason. I swear on my life, I’m going to do everything I can to keep your friend alive, but I need you to do what I say. Do you understand?”

            Jason gapes at him for a second, his eyes flickering between Dick and the shaking door.

            “Jason! Do you understand?”

            “Yeah, Dick, I understand.” Jason nodded quickly, turning to the small bedroom to escape out the window. He’s out the window and climbing up the first rung of the stairs when he glances back, just in time to see Dick open the front door and get thrown face first onto the floor.  He hears the older man cry out when his arm is grabbed as he continues up as quickly as he can.  He reaches the roof in record time, bringing up his wrist to check his watch.  Dick said thirty minutes. Jason tugs at locks of his hair, pacing across the roof. Dick could be dead in thirty minutes.

**

            As Jason turns to the bedroom window, Dick turns to the front door.  The four dead bolts that run down the seam are shaking as the person on the other side rams into it. Dick has half a mind to look through the peep hole, but the thought of getting hot through his eyeball keeps his curiosity away.

            “I’m coming!” He unlocks the door quickly, swinging it open to come face to face with four meaty looking men.  “Can’t a man take a nap without having the door busted down—”

            The man directly in front of him grabs him by the front of his shirt and throws him down onto the carpeted floor.  Dick can’t hold back the cry of pain that slips past his lips when his broken arm is wrenched up behind his back and zip tied there with his other arm.  The pain is white hot, and it travels up his arm to his shoulder, from where his nose is pushed into the rough carpet, Dick has to blink stars out of his eyes.

            He sees the feet of three other men stomp into the small apartment followed by a small, curly haired, Hispanic woman being dragged behind them. She has tear tracks running down her face and her arms are also zip tied behind her back.  As Dick feels guilt begin to swallow him, he is yanked up by his broken arm and forced to stand on wobbly feet between two bulky men.

            “Where is Todd, Richard?”

            “Dick.”  The man in front of him reeled back and punched him in the face.  Dick would have fallen over if not for the two men flanking him and taking most of his weight.  “My name is Dick god damnnit!”

            The man to his right huffed out a laugh but stifled it when the leader gave him a hard look. He then turned his attention to Dick, grabbing him roughly by his jaw and forcing him to look at him,

            “You’re going to tell us where that little bastard is or we’re going to kill the bitch and then her kids, and then everyone else in this goddamn shit hole, until we find that little traitor!” Dick wanted to flinch when spit flew from the man’s mouth but settled for morphing his face into that of disgust.

            “I don’t know where the other guy went.” He lied. “I woke up with a broken arm and some kid trying to ransom me back to Bruce. I hit him in the head and hid here.”

            The man threw a fist into his stomach, and he groaned loudly, “Wrong answer?”

            “Jason thinks he’s a hero: helpin’ old ladies across the street and giving food to the kids with cracked out parents. I don’t believe for a goddamn second that he tried to ransom you to anyone.”

            Dick laughed, “Okay, you got me. But I still don’t know where he is.”

            This time the punch hit his left temple, leaving his vision swirling with stars. He spit a mouth full of blood out onto the floor, blinking rapidly, “Look, man, whatever you think you’re going to get from this: you’re not. Bruce is going to pour money into this neighborhood whether you kill me or not.  It’s a done deal.  So, why don’t you rub your two little brain cells together and make the smart decision: get out of dodge.”

            The man’s nostrils flared, and he landed two heavy punches to his ribcage, Dick tried to double over but the two men at his sides held steady. He looked up at the clock, stall for fifteen more minutes.

            “You tell me where Jason is, I’ll let you live.”

            Dick snorted, “Fat chance.”

            The man sighed before pulling his gun out of the holster at his waist and jamming it up into the soft skin under Dick’s jaw, “Okay, Dick, how about you tell me where Jason is, and I kill you quickly?”

            Dick winced at the cold metal pinching into his skin relentlessly, “How about you kill me, then my dad has feds chase you down for the rest of your miserable life while he still pours money into the community.” Dick smiles, showing bloody, red teeth. “You don’t win. Doesn’t matter how this plays out, you Dick, you are going to lose.”

            The man releases the pressure on the underside of Dick’s jaw and slams the butt of his gun against the side of his face. Dick feels warm blood well up in the new cut on his face.  His vision goes black for five seconds, the two men at his sides let go of his arms, and he drops forward onto the floor heavily. Dick blinks slowly, trying not to let the ringing in his ears overcome him.  He can hear the man above him screaming at him, but the words are muffled. Dick rests his cheek on the floor and he’s in direct eye contact with where Carmen was sitting. Except, she wasn’t sitting there anymore. Instead, there was an open window behind where she should have been and the steady red blinking of a smoke grenade.

            The smoke grenade went off just as Dick’s eyes slid shut.

**

            Jason paced on the roof for exactly twenty-eight minutes before he heard the loud chopping of wind. He squints his eyes to find the source of the noise through the brightness of the sun.  When he sees it, his eyes are wide, he’s never seen a helicopter before. It lands on the other side of the roof and an eight-man tactical team pours out of the sliding door followed by a dark haired, scrawny looking kid, Tim his mind supplies, and then Bruce Wayne himself.  Jason gapes as the two Wayne’s make their way toward him.  Bruce reaches him first, reaching out a hand, which Jason shakes slowly,

            “I’m Bruce, this is Tim. You are…?”

            “J—Jason.”

            “Jason. Tell us what you know.”

Bruce listens with his lips pinched into a tight line. Humming in agreement once and a while and grunting in disagreement a few times as Jason explains the past twenty-four hours to him as quickly as he can.  He tells them exactly where Dick is, and then where Carmen’s kids should be. At the end, Bruce nods in thanks and turns on his heel toward the tactical team, leaving him and Tim looking at each other.

“Thanks for coming.” Jason says, mostly to fill the space but also because he is grateful.

“Thanks for not killing my brother.” Tim cracks him a smile and takes a sip of the coffee Jason didn’t even realize the boy had been holding.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, about that, am I going to get arrested after this?”

The two of them turn as the tactical team repel off the roof. Then, Tim laughs and shakes his head, “I’m sure Bruce would have you arrested. But, from what you’ve said, I’m sure it would be over Dick’s dead body… Hopefully, not literally.”

Jason winced at the bad timing of the joke, “I thought Wayne wanted to reform the neighborhood? Arresting twenty-three-year-olds isn’t very reformative.”

Tim laughs again, “It’s not Bruce who wants to reform Crime Alley. It’s Dick. He’s using his whole trust fund to pay for the grant, with Wayne Enterprise’s logo stamped on it.”

Jason gapes for the second time in twenty minutes, “Why would he do that?”

Tim shrugs, “His favorite diner is here.  He says he’s met a lot of good people here and they deserve a real chance at life. He thinks that the support of Wayne Enterprises is a critical part to real change.”

“What about his fortune?”

“He’ll still be rich. Bruce, Dick, Damian, and I all hold twenty percent of Wayne Enterprises, and the rest is split by investors.  He will be a lot less rich, like millions, but he will definitely still be wealthy. But Dick doesn’t care about money.”

            Jason stands silent for a moment, absorbing the information he’d just been given. Then, a second helicopter lands on the roof and Dick Grayson is being pushed through the roof access door. Bruce and Tim are at his side in seconds, asking questions and holding his free hand. Dick catches sight of Jason and pulls the oxygen mask down,

            “Thank you, Jason.”

            Jason doesn’t have time to reply as Dick is wheeled into the second, smaller helicopter. He just stares as it lifts off the roof and then moves toward the sun.

**

            Exactly two weeks later, Jason is standing at his kitchen sink listening to the news play behind him when there is a knock on the door.  He turns off the water and dries his hands. A generous donation to his landlord has his rent paid for the next two years, in addition to his bloody carpet replaced with a new, softer one and his broken door fixed.  He doesn’t bother to check his phone to see who it is, even though he could sine the same generous donation installed fancy camera doorbells and good locks on everyone’s door.

He pulls open the door and makes a surprised noise,

            “Dick.” He looks down the hall as if someone was going to jump out at him. “I… How are you?”

            Dick’s previously broken arm is wrapped in a black fiberglass cast and he has stitches running along his cheek, but his smile is bright as ever,

            “Howdy, Neighbor! I’m good! Just came over to say ‘hi’!”

            Jason frowned, “Neighbor?”

            Dick nodded, “I’m moving in next door.  Bruce put me in charge of a lot of the spending of the funds in the Park Row grant, so I figured what better way to put the money to good use than to integrate myself into the community?”

            Jason hummed, “Yeah, your brother told me somethin’ funny about that. Something about it being your money with Wayne’s name on it?”

            Dick rubbed his neck and smiled sheepishly, “He told you that?”

            “He didn’t tell me that you are the generous donor behind my two years of paid rent, my new carpet, all the doorbell cameras, and setting up Carmen and her boys in metropolis; I put that one together myself.”

            Dick chuckled, “Well, Bruce paid for your carpet.”

            “You throw an awful lot of money into Crime Alley. Why didn’t you say anything when I was basically calling you a stuck-up douche?”

            “Ah… You know, I never want my money to feel like a power play between me and my friends.” Dick smiles wider at the last word.

            “We’re not friends.” Jason huffs.

            Dick pushed past him and into his apartment, making himself at home and dropping himself on the couch with a sigh, “We definitely are friends. We spent a lot of time together a few weeks ago!”

            “Because I basically tried to murder you…”

            Dick snuggled deeper into the couch and smiled lazily,

            “Pshh… Details.”

[cozzzynook]

This may be uncomfortable but...

(Cyberverse)

Bee finding out Hotrod has been selling his frame to pay a loan?

For me its not but tw for everyone else

I’m setting the scene where Hot rod and Bee are siblings who lived on the streets.

They’re adults now and in the army under Optimus Prime - Bee’s carrier, bee was separated from Optimus for safety and reunited when joining - in a pretty good spot making pretty good money.

Hot rod doesn’t look as tired as he used to when they were younger. As kids Hot rod did all the dirty work so Bee would have a clean record and be safe. Hot rod is older so he was going to protect Bee no matter what.

It was easy to allow two little kids shelter where no bot would see them but as Hot rod got older and became a teen he worked odd jobs all the time where he had to hide bee behind counters or sneak him into homes during cleaning jobs.

Hot rod tried to hide all the ugly things from and he mostly did. He couldn’t hide foul smells or language in run down units they used to sleep in but he could hide how he had to pay for the more expensive things bee needed.

Bee needed expensive medicine for his growth and dysfunction when Hot rod was a young adult.

Bee was still young, a preteen, he didn’t know where the money came from or how Hot rod would always get it.

He didn’t know the job Hot rod did that got them into a nice tiny home that paid all the bills and brought in good food. He never saw anything out of the ordinary save for more bags on Hot rods optics and his frame getting smaller. Hot rod just said it was because his job was tough sometimes but he was okay.

Bee never knew Hot rod was selling his frame to pay for everything or that him sleeping with one of high command in the autobot ranks is how they were “discovered” so quickly.

Hot rod didn’t want his brother involved in fighting or the war but he wouldn’t force Bee to stay out of the fight when it was a chance he could protect himself better. Especially when Bee was originally out in under scout and wouldn’t be in the line of fire like he would.

Hot rod was further convinced to keep his objections quiet when Bee was reunited with his carrier.

Hot rod and Optimus naturally weren’t optic to optic on a lot of things but they both wanted bee safe and happy so they got along enough.

No one knows what Hot rod was doing to help them survive until its revealed on a mission.

An autobot running their intake points out Hot rod and makes proclaims Hot rod was one of the best frames they’d ever paid for.

Hot rod was so shocked he didn’t have time to say anything or move.

It was a decepticon that knocked the autobot out for him and it was Drift and Ratchet that moved him along since his processor froze.

Bee was devasted to learn his big brother had to resort to selling himself so they could live. So he could live.

Prowl and Optimus are telling the few that are there to say nothing and they move Bee along.

The mission was at its end when this happened.

They return to base and Hot rod is hiding himself in his room.

He doesn’t want anybot to see him and he especially doesn’t want Bee seeing him.

He feels so ashamed.

He was somewhat at peace with what he had to do but he never wanted Bee to know.

Ratchet felt bad for the kid and Prowl used every bots fear of him to keep the situation quiet while Optimus comforted his sparkling.

He had a new appreciation and respect for Hot rod.

The young mech did everything for his sparkling and he knows there isn’t a way to repay him but he could spend the rest of his days trying.

Bee wanted his big brother.

He wanted to apologize for needing so much and causing Hot rod so much trouble.

Bee knows Hot rod wouldn’t accept it because Hot rod wanted to do everything for Bee. He wanted to keep him safe and he truly did everything he could so bee would have a good sparklinghood.

The guilt eats at Bee.

He needs his big brother next to him. He needs his comfort and to comfort him. But he can’t because Hot rod is hiding in his room and won’t let him in.

It’s surprisingly Drift who sneaks into Hot rods room and sits down beside him.

Tells him about his time at the dead end and why Megatrons words were able to charm him, why they still charm him.

Hot rod never did drugs like Drift but he has had to survive.

He’s done things he didn’t want others knowing just like Drift and it makes him feel kindred to the mech.

“Peace of advice?”

“From you?”

Hot rod nods.

“When you turn coat, reveal who you really are, don’t let my bitty brother get hurt..keep him out of it..and don’t hurt Ratchet..he doesn’t deserve that..he really loves you. Like how you love him. Okay?”

Its quiet..Drift doesn’t look away from Hot rod for a long time and Hot rod makes no move to get up from his berth as he thinks to himself but he does see something vulnerable flash across Drifts optics and when the mech leaves feeling sad, he knows his words have gotten to him.

Its late in the darkest hours when Optimus finds Bee recharging in Hot rod’s arms.

Bee is latched on tight to Hot rod and Hot rod has a firm hold on Bee.

From the sight alone, he knows they’ll be alright.

-

I appreciate tips on my cashapp & kofi cozzzynook 💕

[theoceanoasis]

Hi, can there be a part two to the soundrod mechpreg mafia ask?

Soundwave reveals himself when Roddy is at work and has to stay in the upstairs bedroom because he’s too exhausted to walk from work.

The owner lets him move in permanently.

Roddy is in a hot bath that makes him fall asleep. Soundwave rushes from his hiding spot and keeps him from slipping and Roddy wakes up to that

They finally talk and Roddy sees he isn’t the only one in love

He started watching him from afar wanting to know why he left. He had a feeling it had something to do with his career. He knew Hot Rod had found out about his profession from those stupid cops, filling his head with lies. He wasn't the monster they made him out to be and he'd never hurt Hot Rod. Not when he loved him so much.

While watching Hot Rod. It became obvious that he struggles to get to work and back home each day. Needing to take breaks along the way. Especially on his way home from work when he was exhausted.

As his belly got bigger it only became harder for him to walk. Which worried him. He didn't want his Omega to hurt himself.

Wanting to make things easier he bought the building where Hot Rod works. He then used a third party who pretended to be the landlord. Letting him rent the apartment above the place he worked for cheap.

Hot Rod had been so happy he'd cried. He knew he wouldn't accept if he'd approached him or if he knew he did this for him. Which is why he needed to keep it a secret. Until he could find a way to convince Hot Rod that he wasn't a threat.

He didn't like that he was working. His Omega should be at home in his nest being pampered instead of being forced to work.

Whenever s customer was rude to Hot Rod he always found them and sent them a message that made them never come back.

If Hot Rod was going to make himself work then he's going to make sure he had the easiest time possible.

He continued to keep his distance still trying to find the right time to approach him.

He'd watched as Hot Rod had come home from a tiring shift. He'd accidentally spilled something on himself and was taking a bath. He'd been relaxing inside when he passed out from exhaustion. He became alarmed when the water continued to run and Hot Rod was slowly sliding down into the water.

He jumped down from the tree he was hiding in and ran up the back stairs. Practically busting down his door in his haste to get inside. Since he owned the apartment he had all of the keys and had even made copies in case of an emergency.

Rushing to the bathroom he grabbed Hot Rod and lifted him out of the tub. He barely even stirred as he laid him on his bed. Throwing a blanket over him he checked him over making sure he was okay and that his head didn't go underwater.

His heart was pounding as looked him over. Trying not to imagine the worst that could have happened.

Looking Hot Rod over he gently touched his face making sure his Omega was safe. He had one of the best doctors on speed dial if he needed him and would call if anything was wrong.

His beautiful Omega looked so calm and peaceful something he hasn't been ever since those cops interrogated him.

Hot Rod opened his eyes and looked at him in alarm. His scent soured as he dragged himself backwards looking terrified.

"Soundwave what are you doing here?"

He looked around in a panic. Realizing he was naked he pulled the blanket closer.

"How did you find me? Why are you in my house? Why am I naked?"

The scent of a distressed Omega burned his nose and sent him on edge. Hot Rod cried with a hand on his belly.

"Please. Don't kill my baby. Please. I'll do whatever you want just leave us alone."

He sobbed. His whole body shaking as he tried to get as far away from him. It hurt, but he knew Hot Rod was going through a lot.

"It's going to be okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Hot Rod wouldn't listen.

"I saw those pictures they told me everything."

"Their wrong I'm not like that. I would never hurt you or our sparkling."

"Why?"

Hot Rod snapped and he grabbed his hands to stop his Omega from scratching himself.

"Because I love you and I'll always protect you. You're my Omega. I know you know that. Just as much as I do. Even before you became pregnant. I want you and I want our little one."

Hot Rod cried his heart screamed for him to accept the Alpha and he could no longer hold back. He climbed into his lap and Soundwave wrapped his arms around him. Holding him close as he cried and clung to him. Burying his face into his chest because he smelled so good and he'd missed him so much.

[gingersnapandgonzap]

you mentioned “taking a hike is up there” for training so i presume you have your top 5? 10? list of training methods?

not even sure if a top five is there but i do have some preferred methods

back when i was super into it i found core exercises to be the absolute best method to get your guys fighting fit. maybe not the most fun unless you do it with friends or a lot of pokemon but i used to get gonzap to do crunches from a pull up bar we had in our backyard and it got him buff quick. i also used to put weights on around his ankles while setting him up on the bar and he seemed to really like how they changed his balance. idk if you can picture a skarmory hanging from a metal rod by his neck and doing crunches but he was awesome at it

now my favorite method is probably the simplest and that’s doing some yoga. ginger LOVES yoga time and it’s fun for me too. you just need a floor and a blanket and you’re off to the races. yoga is good not only for your core but your flexibility in general and also just is relaxing? i get out the mat and he starts squealing with excitement it’s so adorable and he’s such a good little sport!! just make sure you stretch before and after and you’re golden. not as fast, but still worthwhile and very enjoyable, plus super easy

another good one is just going on a plain old walk or jog with your guys. it’s dirt easy, free, and you’re outside having some time to yourself. downside is you’re not really building much if any muscle and would probably need something like weight lifting or other stuff to build more short muscle. but hey, if you’re starting out and don’t know what your training goals are yet going on a jog every morning is great. if you really wanna build some endurance, then i’d say hiking is a good option. the rougher the ground the better, though i know not everyone has an entire mountain behind their house so it’s not a perfect routine

and then just some other little tips:

-vitamins are ok, but don’t rely on them for everything. the best type of training is the stuff you do yourself and i’ve generally not found the same kind of success as manual training. they’re also expensive so there’s that

-i don’t have experience flying with gonzap but if you want a strong flier weight training might be your way to go. just make sure to gradually go up as your pokemon gets used to lifting weight so you don’t strain something cus lemme tell you a birds wing muscles take a hot second to heal

-work with your pokemon. do your own little workout along with them and you’ll find it’s both more fun and more rewarding cus hey you’re getting fit too. oh and pay attention to how your guy responds to various types of exercise. do they enjoy doing cardio like running or swimming? are flexibility exercises just not enough for them and they need something more? i never would’ve known ginger loved yoga so much if my mom didn’t suggest it after the core routine i did with gonzap didn’t seem to be doing it for the little dude

-try new stuff and learn. like if you’ve never tried pilates before and think they’re weird maybe just test them out at the end of your usual workout. yes you are going to suck at something you’ve never done before. yes that’s okay. i’d test stuff this way for about a week and see where we’re at. if you feel like they might be for you, like you’re working a muscle you just couldn’t quite get to with your previous routine, id say go for it. practice makes perfect

[cosmo-lexies]

Midnight Rituals - 12. New day

Atticus:

"Atticus, here" Rose yelled angrily at me.

I approached her and she looked at me with a glance that I only could define as disgusting. She hated me for good reasons.

"Your back!" she said.

I complied with her orders. I started to feel a heat on my neck like someone was passing a hot metal bar on my skin. I have super-human resistance but that was hurting a lot.

"Would it hurt?" I said and immediately let out a little scream.

She grabbed my hair and put my head straight "In you, yes. And don't move if you wanna keep your head over your shoulders."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I don't want yours sorry. If you aren't going to tell me about why."

"I can't," I said interrupting her while I tried to turn my head

She pulled my hair again. "If you aren't going to tell me about why, you must be in silence."

The tension was grueling. Then she let my head go and I stood up. She approaches her wrist to my face and rolls up the sleeve of her shirt, exposing the radial artery. I looked at her feeling puzzled.

"Don't make this face, fresh blood increases your dominion powers, doesn't it? Lucas's spirit won't allow you to bite him, you only have two options Fenix or me."

I took his wrist gently and took out my fangs. I bit fast for my poison to take effect as soon as possible. She sighed calmly and her angry face turned into a relaxing face. A Vampire bite has this effect as a mosquito, producing a feeling of calm in our victims. I stopped to bite although I wanted more. I didn't want that she felt weak later. She put away her wrist without a word. Then Fenix approached us. His face was red like a tomato.

"Are you okay?" I asked. I thought that maybe he was panicking as before.

"Yes, I'm," he answered.

I saw that she analyzed first Fenix and then Lucas. She looked down and started to make symbols with her hands over rocks.

"Fenix, you have as bad taste as I do," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nothing important now." She took the rocks and gave them to him. "They're quartz. You have to put each one in a corner to make a perfect squad, quickly."

He sighed. "Do I have to run?  I'm starting to hate it. Don't tell Lucas what I just said."

Lucas came to us, he had his arms crossed and his face said that he didn't like this plan. I agreed with him but I trusted my life to Rose, although she hated me at that moment.

"Go!" Rose said.

"Wait, wait," Fenix said frenetically. He looked at his wristwatch for a few seconds "Now are twelve, witching hour we can go." All of us looked around and carried on our way. "C'mon guys, it was a joke to calm you."

Rosemary:

The Fenix plan to use the electric rod was working better than I thought. The elemental was fascinated with the metal and its lightning bolts became one that struck constantly. The air was filling up with static electricity.

"Don't move!" Atticus shouted strongly and the elemental stopped dead although the electricity kept flowing but more weakly.

"It's high time you went to your mission," I said to Fenix, who looked at me with a bold smile on his face. He started to run placing the first quartz next to me. And he followed his path, he ran very weirdly but would have to be enough. I started the ritual.

"Thine servant Rosemary Booth invites thou, Pazuzu son of Hambi, king of the southwest wind and the storms. Thou grant me thine power to set free this wild creature, I implore thou."

Summoning two great demons in a day wasn't the best plan but I didn't have a lot of options and Pazuzu isn't a demon aggressive. The worst thing that would happen was that he ignored me. I repeated the spell two times more, and the last time I started to feel a warm wind in my back. Pazuzu had accepted my invitation and now I could use his magic to improve the barrier. I saw Fenix putting the last quart and I finished the ritual.

"Close the wild, close the air that the storm be contained," I shouted.

A strong wind formed a tornado around the elemental. The guys ran to me.

"What the hell is happening?" Lucas asked.

"Each one of us had to grab a quart and then approach the elemental simultaneously," I said.

Atticus and Lucas were running while a sweaty and red-faced Fenix looked at me expecting that he took the quart in front of us. I looked at him back like the answer.

"Okay, okay," he started to run.

I couldn't help but ask myself how he passed PE. When all of us were in our positions, I whistled, and they started to walk. With each step, the wing felt less intense but a light blue magic barrier started to shine being each quart a corner of the cube.

Finally, we compressed the elemental in a cube of one yard by one yard in size. The elemental was only a little glow with some lightning bolts in a box.

"Okay, guys. You drop the quartz when I'll say 'go', understood?" I looked around and they nodded at me. "Go"

A violent gust of wind pushed us when the quartz touched the ground.

Lucas:

I was a bit dizzy not because of the hit; transformed, it was difficult to injure me with only wind, but the movement had been a lot harder.

"All you okay? " I asked.

Rosemary and Atticus answered affirmative quickly, but Fenix took a little longer.

"Fenix?" I asked again holding my breath

"I think I'm good, I mean nothing that requires medical attention. But I feel like all my muscles are burning," he said. I breathed relief. He needed more training obviously.

"I know how to fix it," I said.

"Four days in bed and a lot of video games?" he said.

"Not, we are gonna go to the gym tomorrow. I'm going to get you in shape."

"Wait, wait, wait. I'm sure that Rose can give me something for pain."

"Don't look at me. You need training and learning to run," she said to my surprise.

"Really, he ran very weird or this look when he was putting the rocks," Atticus noted.

"Okay, why now I'm the object of your attacks? I mean I saved the city," he said half joking half proud.

"Well, technically," I started to say but I strong sound like breaking glass made me stop.

The magical cube was breaking. I instinctively put myself in front of Fenix while the sound was each second more strong. Then a squeal surrounded us from all sides and the cube stopped to break. I looked around and I saw more than a dozen hooded people, some of them smelled familiar.

"Hey, Lucas," I looked at Fenix who was under my body." I think we can get up."

I got up and helped him, he seemed painful. Maybe I had hurt him, this idea made me feel sick, but I couldn't ask because one of the cultists approached us. She took off his hood and we could see that she was the major.

"We take care of it from here. Now go home." She looked at Rosemary intensively. "And this time I'm talking seriously."

She put on the hood again and joined the squeal festival, I understood why this was called an infernal choir.

"I expected more enthusiasm," Fenix said with a disappointed face.

"My mother is not a woman easy to please," Rosemary said. "It's better that we go home. I have my car in the school parking, I take you home," she said looking at Fenix.

He nodded and tried to say goodbye to us but she was walking so fast that he didn't have almost time. Atticus made a sad face and I gave him a comforting pat on his shoulder.

"I think she is still in love with you," I said.

"I don't think after today, but I don't wanna speak about it." I didn't have a lot of ideas to try to comfort my friend at that moment. "Do you have the alcohol of your father in the garage?" he asked.

I didn't feel like drunkenness but he was my best friend and he was incredibly depressed to have survived a lightning-throwing monster. He looked at his phone and sighed.

"What happened?" I asked.

"My father is freaking out because of all this. He is sending me a car. The party will have to wait for another day."

[rustedhearts]

battlefield (boxer!steve x librarian!fem au)

summary: you reappear in hawkins after eight months away—only this time, steve’s nowhere to be found. what happened while you were away, and why are you refusing his calls?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of the ring ♡

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, breakup (though not really), manhandling (steve leaves a bruise), toxic relationship, steve sucks! but he tries to make up for it, reader (libby) wears glasses and has a little brother.

a/n: here's what i have to say about this one: the girls that get it, get it. the girls that don't, don't.

“it would help me to know, do i stand in your way? or am i the best thing you’ve had?”

—battlefield, pat benatar

hawkins, indiana october 1990

In February, you said goodbye to your family. You gave a temporary two week’s notice to the library with a firm promise to return when Steve’s first tournament had finished. You packed up your old bedroom, said goodbye to childhood forever, and stepped out a woman. Steve’s woman.

And all you knew, for the next eight months, was: Steve. Training, dieting, fights, press conferences, and endorsement deals. Steve, Steve, Steve. Life revolved around him completely.

Until October, when you returned to Hawkins, and said hello to your family once more.

You appeared on a Saturday afternoon. A crisp chill hung in the air, scented of damp soil and the sweet aroma of autumn leaves. They filled the town with rust-colored enthusiasm; the tree in front of your old bedroom window, though, was golden yellow. They made your green lawn appear like a pool of honey. And it was on your yellow lawn that your mother gazed out to find you standing, luggage in hand, staring at the door.

She dropped the duster in her hand and flew to the door, practically tumbling down the front steps to fling herself at you. She squeezed and prodded and pulled, assessing you like some sort of miracle on her doorstep.

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing home?”

You kissed her cheek, flashed a smile, and rolled your suitcase into the house. You hugged and kissed your father hello, laughed dryly when your younger brother Nick made a joke, and strolled upstairs with your luggage. It was half of what you’d left with eight months ago. You appeared just as proportionally empty—halved. Missing, quite literally, the other part of you.

There was no Steve, and no sign of him on you. Only the big black sweatshirt he bought you from the Hot Rod cafe, paired with a white turtleneck and old, worn denim jeans from high school. You climbed into your old bed—still made with the same colorful quilt and frilly sheets—and closed your eyes, still wearing the clothes you’d worn on your flight.

You said nothing of Steve, or why you were home.

You just…slept.

♡ ♡

You slept until Sunday evening.

Until the sunlight dwindled and your father’s knuckles rapped at the door. You brought your head out from beneath the covers to peer toward the door just as it cracked open. Your father’s glasses glared with yellow lamplight.

“Honey…are you okay? You’ve been in here…—well, sweetheart, we haven’t seen you since you got home.”

You shrugged, sniffling. The sound came with a slurp of thick snot, and upon closer inspection, your father immediately noticed the swollen bags under your eyes and their reddened, bloodshot state. “Sorry,” you murmured. “Just jet-lagged.”

Your father stepped into the room, leaving the door open, and sank onto the edge of the bed.“Honey, did he hurt you? Is that why you’re home?”

Huffing, you threw yourself onto your back and let your hands flop atop the mattress. You glared at the poster of James Dean above your bed.

“No, Dad—“

“—because if he hurt you…I know people. I can have him taken out in—“

“—Dad! Stop,” you groaned, rubbing at your swollen, aching eyes. The pillowcase under your head had been soaked and resoaked with a river of tears, and now they sat in a crusty, dried trail on your cheeks.

Your father sighed, though that look of furrowed concern and disappointment lingered. You wanted to assure him he was incorrect. You wanted to promise Steve didn’t hurt you, that you were here on your own volition just to visit. But you’d be lying. And you were tired of lying on Steve’s behalf.

You hoped and prayed your father wouldn’t ask you again—because the next time, you wouldn’t be able to muster anything but the truth.

“We’re happy you’re home, honey, but…we just wanna make sure everything’s okay.”

You pushed your hair away from your face, puffing air into your cheeks only to expel it out. “It’s fine, Dad! Okay? I just…I just want to sleep.”

Your father slid off the bed, standing to full height again. He rubbed at his jaw—salt and pepper beard sounding rough and dry—and backed away.

“Alright. Well, your dinner’s in the oven to keep warm. Mom’s making pudding. Chocolate, your favorite.”

You pursed your lips, feeling guilty and small, and nodded meekly. Your father flashed a minuscule smile and headed toward the door. Maybe you could blame the jet-lag for your sudden abruptness, but that would be another lie. You’d been a bristly version of yourself ever since you left New York(…and Steve).

“Alright, honey. Sleep tight.”

“Night, dad.”

When the door clicked closed, you groaned and kicked the covers off. The room was stiff and warm, the windows firmly shut to clamp off any semblance of an autumn breeze, curtains and blinds drawn to hide the leaves. You didn’t want to see how pretty the world looked while you suffered miserably.

But at least you could shower. You could try to do that.

In your old bathroom—floral wallpaper, pink tile, frilly bath mats, potpourri on the back of the toilet tank—you stripped down bare. You clenched your fists and gazed into the mirror, and almost instinctually, your eyes fell to your left forearm. A swell of blood popped beneath the skin just in the center of your arm, appearing violet in the aftermath, indigo in spots: the shape of Steve, left bruised on you in a handprint.

You turned away from the mirror and turned the shower on, heat high. You stepped in and closed your eyes, lip caged between your teeth to cease the trembling. The shower stream boiled your tears and drained your nose. The water smelled a little metallic: old pipes gone unused.

Eyes sinking closed, you tipped your head back into the water and let it rain over you.

♡ ♡

"Who the fuck was that?"

Seated on a padded leather bench on a gym in New York City—book in hand, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose—gazing up at Steve looming over you. His skin practically steamed, drowning in a sheen of glimmering sweat, hair clinging to his forehead, overgrown and neglected on the road. Cheeks swollen with red warmth, brows creased, eyes nothing other than empty.

You closed your book and glanced off toward the back of the strange man's head, exiting your periphery. "I don't know. He wanted to know where the bathroom was, Steve."

Five minutes ago, another gym-goer came up to you, towel thrown over his hulking shoulder, and asked you where the bathroom was. He smiled a dazzling white, catalogue smile, and you pointed toward the toilets. You directed your eyes back to the book in your lap and said nothing else. Steve wailed on the mitts in the ring, answering every of Big's 'one, two' with a sharp smack of fist.

And now here he was, towering over you like you'd asked the man to dinner.

"How come every time I turn around, some creep is all over you? Huh?"

You sighed, setting the book on the bench beside your purse. Big lingered in the ring, pretending not to listen as he slurped water from a Gatorade bottle.

"I don't know, Steve—"

"—oh, so he was a creep?"

"Jesus," you groaned, throwing your head back toward the fluorescents above you. Steve had been a tangy sour taste in your mouth since you arrived in New York two days ago. "No, Steve, he was not a creep. He was just—"

"—you know, you must be doin' somethin' to invite all these guys your way."

You turned back to Steve, gaping at his furrowed frown. Surely he didn't mean that. Surely he wasn't questioning your loyalty to him. You'd done nothing but cater to him all year. You followed him around the country for his career; put your life on hold for his career; neglected and abandoned your own needs and desires for his career—only to be scolded for every wrongdoing in Steve's eyes.

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm tired of having to worry if every time I turn around, the vultures will swarm my girlfriend. They just eat you up, huh?"

You leapt to your feet, the ache to cry growing stronger by the second. His words cut deep—the implications behind them cut deeper.

"That sounds like your problem, Steve. Those are your insecurities talking, and they don't have shit to do with me," you hissed, snatching your belongings from the bench.

You were a step away from Steve when he called back out. "Hey. Hey! Get back here when I'm talking to you, Libby."

You scoffed, shaking your head furiously as you stomped toward the door. "You're fucking crazy if you think I'm gonna listen to you—"

His hand was on your arm then, yanking you into a spin. You flew into his chest, a painful collision for both of you. But you glared, serpent-like, as mean as you could muster, into the death stare of your boyfriend. You didn't like that look on his face. You didn't like the grip he had on you. It came out of nowhere.

But his rage-fits usually did these days.

"You're not goin' anywhere," he growled evenly.

You yanked at your arm, teeth clenching together. "Yes. I. Am. Let me go, Steven."

He persisted, fingers squeezing tighter. You coughed away a yelp, wondering if you stomped on his foot if that would loosen his grip or make it worse. You weren't sure you wanted to try—and suddenly, that hurt worse.

You never wanted to be afraid of Steve, and he promised you'd never have to be.

"Harrington," Big called sternly from the ring. He leaned on the ropes now, watching carefully.

"Shut the fuck up," Steve barked his coach's way, though his attention never left you. You pulled at your arm again.

"Let me go!"

"Let her go, Harrington."

"I said shut up!"

Eyes stinging with tears, you pushed at his chest with your spare hand, smacking your book against his bare skin. "Let go, Steve!"

You sprung loose, exhaling a weak cry when your arm came away throbbing and splotchy. You adjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder and clutched your book against your chest, gazing at Steve like a stranger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you wailed, tears slipping free as you slammed into the door to exit.

He didn't come after you.

He stayed to train. You waited in the room, weeping noisily in the cold bathroom. As the hours ticked away, you found yourself dreading his arrival. Fearing what might come of it.

You scrambled to your feet, and in a rush of hyperventilation and buzzing nerves, you packed your bags. Anything you could grab on hand, anything you recognized as yours—you shoved it all into your suitcase on the floor and zipped it up. You knew, even as you slipped your coat on and rolled it through the door, that you'd forgotten most of your things.

And as you rode the elevator down, you stopped crying. You snatched the pen in your purse and hurried to the front desk, snatching a stationary pad and using the marble countertop for something solid.

Steve,

You promised me happiness, but all you've given me is pain. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep letting you hurt me, no matter how much I love you, or how much you claim to love me. Your anger and jealousy have ruined us, and I can't take it anymore.

I'm going home. Please don't follow me. Not even if you're sorry, and not even if you really mean it this time.

—Libby

"Please give this to Mr. Harrington when he comes back."

♡ ♡

"Hey, honey. Glad to see you up and...dressed! It's a miracle."

Your smile veered toward a scowl as you sank into your chair at the kitchen table, showered and in a fresh change of clothes: your high school sweatshirt from your final homecoming game, the green and gold of Hawkins High. It was still soft and smelled of laundry soap.

All your other clothes smelled like Steve.

"Yeah," you murmured, wet hair dripping on the table.

Your father shuffled into the room in his slippers, glasses perched low on his nose, just as your mother slid a cup of homemade pudding your way. You gingerly accepted the spoon, mustering the smallest grin of appreciation. You hadn't wanted to eat. You tried a packet of trail-mix on the plane and it made your stomach flop. The smell of Sunday dinner (meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans) still hanging in the kitchen air made you want to throw up.

But the pudding was smooth and sweet, and you ate small bites to keep your mother happy and your father quiet. You couldn't stomach another 'are you okay?'

You kept your sleeves tucked over your knuckles as you ate, limbs hidden in your sweatshirt and a pair of linty joggers. Soon, your entire family gathered at the table, licking pudding from spoons, tapping silver against porcelain to fill the quiet. The television hummed with an evening program in the living room. Even Nick sat, slump-shouldered beside you.

Their silence was almost as bad as their pestering.

"Guys," you sighed, spoon clattering on the table. "I'm fine, okay? I don't need you to...please don't hover, okay? I'm home now, and that's that."

You bounced between their gazes with a pointed look of your own, brows raised in question. Your parents bobbed their agreement, though the sourness to their expressions leaned toward hesitation. Your little brother, Nick, however, stared at the table with pursed lips. In his own silent way, his admiration for Steve spanned past athletic abilities and bled into morality. You didn't want to give him reason to believe Steve didn't deserve that admiration. Whatever happened between the two of you had nothing to do with him as a person.

You didn't want your little brother to think differently of his idol.

Before anyone could say anything else, the phone on the wall shrilled. You knew who'd be on the other line the moment your mother stood to answer, shuffling over in her pajamas and answering with a polite, chipper tone. You inhaled deeply when her eyes cut over to you.

"Sure, she's right here. Honey, it's Ste—"

You stood to your feet, chair screeching on the tile. "I'm sleeping."

You disappeared swiftly, steps ascending the creaking stairs followed by the clamp of your bedroom door slamming. Your father looked toward your mother, who pulled the phone from her chest and cleared her throat.

"You know what? She's sleeping right now. Try back in the morning?"

Steve's voice murmured through the other line in response, and your mother glanced at your father, who strained to listen.

"I'm sure she'll call you when she's ready, Steven. Just give her some space."

♡ ♡

Monday

You woke at noon and pouted at your disheveled reflection in the vanity mirror. A polaroid of Steve was wedged in the corner of the mirror: black hoodie, hood pulled up, strong jaw, cut cheekbones, a purpled split in his lip from a prior fight. He came home to you like that, bloody and bruised. He wasn't supposed to make you feel that way, too.

You pulled it from the mirror and placed it face-down on the vanity table. The kitchen phone rang while you coated your lashes in mascara, and again as you rummaged through your closet and a half-empty wardrobe left abandoned for months. You refused to touch your suitcase or the contents inside. It all reeked of Steve. All tainted by his touch.

The phone rang as you plucked your car keys from the glass bowl in the kitchen, and you heard it again—a distant, muffled blare—as you threw open the garage door and uncovered your untouched car. You drowned it in the growl of your engine, and for a moment, you felt relieved that it wouldn't be you crying today.

It would be Steve.

♡ ♡

You went to the only place you felt safe: the library.

Two words into your explanation speech, your boss, Shelly, placed a hand on your shoulder and slipped your name tag into your palm.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." She beamed, patting your arm and directing you on your way.

You dove right in, swimming through the stacks of books at a glacial, peaceful pace. You knew the system like the back of your hand, and soon all the books were in their rightful places on the shelves.

"Libby? Oh my god, when did you get home?" Lisa, another victim of abandonment for the sake of Steve, came rushing down the aisle you were in.

You hadn't spoken to Lisa since you left, and suddenly a pang of guilt crashed into you as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. You returned the hug and mirrored her smile.

"Just the other day," you told her as she pulled away. "It was a last minute thing."

She bombarded you with questions, too blinded by enthusiasm to be upset with you for ghosting your friendship. You told her as much as you could, wincing when Steve's name came from her mouth. And like Beetlejuice or some other demonic figure, call his name three times and he shall appear.

"Baby."

You whipped around, smile crumbling at the sight of Steve stalking your way: sunglasses on, new Cadillac keys in one hand, a bouquet of pink roses in the other. Lisa became forgotten, and the stacks of books darkened like in vignette around you as Steve closed in on you.

You dropped the book in your hand on the metal cart you'd been working on, turning away from Steve to rush down the aisle.

"Lib—baby, come on!"

Lisa watched Steve zoom past her, mouth agape with confused awe as he chased after you. Your poker face remained bitter and impenetrable as you made your way through the center aisle, skirt flouncing with every stomp of your kitten heels.

"Libby, please, stop."

"I told you not to follow me," you droned without turning around.

His keys jingled with every jog after you, cellophane-wrapped flowers crinkling in his fist. You curled your fingers into a fist of your own, nails biting skin as his scent crept your way. You were grateful it was still school hours and the library was only half empty. Half the humiliation.

"You really thought—baby, please, stop."

Thick fingers circled your wrist, skirting you to a stop far gentler than the one that drove you away. His grip, much more delicate, still made your eyes sting. You kept your chin turned away but allowed your body to stop at his will. In your periphery, his puppy-dog look begged you to pay attention to him.

Steve heaved for air. "You really thought I wouldn't come after you? That I wouldn't fight for you? Baby, please. Come on, I love you so much. I'm-I'm sorry."

Your cheeks burned white hot, lip wobbling. He was always sorry.

You pushed at his hand, urging his touch away from you. He followed your movements, and like he didn't understand, he pulled you closer. You pushed at his chest this time, insistent on space between your bodies.

"Steve, stop," you sighed, wiggling your wrist in his hold.

"Baby, please just talk to me—"

"—you hurt me, Steve."

Steve sighed, head hanging toward yours. "I know, baby—"

"—you don't know. I told you not to come after me."

Steve took his hand away, shoulders drooping. He deflated with a syrupy sigh, the heel of his palms reaching for your jaw. The metal of his car key bit into your chin, the cellophane of the flowers you wouldn't be taking tapping your cheek.

"Libby, why are you doing this? Please, I'm here, I'm sorry." His voice wavered with undeniable guilt, dripped with sorrowful regret.

But it wouldn't be that easy this time.

How many times have you stood in this position now? How many times has he grabbed your face and kissed it clean of tears he triggered you to shed? How many times has he stomped on your heart, only to glue it back together for a chance to shatter again.

"Go, Steve," you mumbled, shoving his hands away again.

He'd never seen you so withdrawn. You were almost...cold. Unfeeling. Steve recoiled like you'd burned him, hands coming to dangle at his sides. You hadn't looked at him once, and you turned on your heel without doing so.

He watched you walk away, standing in the carpeted center aisle of the library with his heart in his hands.

♡ ♡

Tuesday

Steve sat on your porch with his head in his hands, elbows digging divots in his thighs.

Big and Mikey were frantic, calling his apartment phone insisting he return before the endorsements caught wind of his sudden departure. He spent the night tossing and turning, glaring at your flowers still wrapped and tied with ribbon on the kitchen table. He'd let them die if you wouldn't have them.

He woke this morning after barely a wink of sleep and found himself here. He parked the Cadillac on the curb and tapped his fingers on the wheel, wondering if he should wait it out in there. But then your mother tapped on the glass of the window, and he rolled it down to flash her a smile.

"Steven...I think she wants to be alone."

Steve nodded, looking off toward your window. "Yeah. Right, yeah. I just...I want...I have to—I just want her to—"

"—you can stay. But if she asks you to leave, please respect her wishes."

Steve nodded again, and watched your mother's car back out of the driveway moments later. When she was gone, and the house was empty aside from you, Steve hurried to the steps. He lifted a hand to knock and paused.

He really hurt you this time, he knew it all too well. But…you always took him back. No matter what he did, you always took him back if he said he was sorry. Why was this time any different?

Steve huffed, kicking the wedge of metal under the door. Why did he always have to snap? Why did he always have to lose control? You deserved better, and if you gave him a chance, he’d try to be that for you.

Muttering under his breath, Steve fixed his hands on his hips and began to pace the porch, rehearsing before he knocked: “M’ sorry…m’ sorry for bein’—ach, fuck. Libby, m’ sorry for—“

“—do you know what you’re sorry for, Steve?”

Steve whirled around, hands dropping to his sides. You were pajama clad and puffy-eyed, a pair of glasses too big for your face slipping down your nose. Your slippers had bunny ears and lint around the edges.

“Everything, baby,” Steve breathed, taking a wide stride toward the door. “I’m sorry for everything.”

You sighed, leaning against the doorway. You crossed your arms, and as you tucked them against your chest, Steve found the bruise on your forearm. He stopped in his ascent toward you, hands paused mid-air.

“Wha—what is…did I—is that from me—“

“Steve,” you whispered, yanking your sleeve down. “Just…it’s not a big deal, okay?”

He blinked at you, shuffling back a step. “Not a big deal? Libby, I never meant—it is a big deal, baby—“

“—obviously it’s a big fucking deal, Steven. I just…I don’t wanna do this right now, alright?"

Steve understood your sudden hostility, but it still made him frown. He took another step back, stumbled this time. He couldn't swallow past his heart, thumping in his throat. "O-okay..."

You looked anywhere but him. His shoes, the tree-coated lawn, the birds swooping down. You reached for the door behind you, stepping back into the house. Steve jerked forward, jaw clenching. He wasn't used to refraining from you. He didn't know how to stop from touching you, kissing you, feeling you. He felt sick over what he did.

"Is it—can I...come back? Can we talk?" He took his lip between his teeth and gnawed, ripping skin and splitting the seams. He sucked the blood into his mouth and you tipped your head, letting it rest against the front door.

His cheeks held the faintest pink glow, eyes doe-like and melancholic. God, you were easy, weren't you?

"Yeah...yeah, Steve, we'll talk."

Steve released his lip, nodding. His hands wrung together in line with his pelvis. "Tomorrow?"

You nodded, lifting your head from the door. "Tomorrow."

♡ ♡

Wednesday

The only place in town to get coffee was Laurie's, and you sighed as you stood on the curb outside the diner. The autumn breeze whipped around you in a brisk tunnel, skipping crisp leaves across the street, bringing wisps of hair to your eyes. Steve was already inside, tapping his sunglasses on the granite tabletop, knee shaking furiously against the booth. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had breakfast in that very booth with him, smitten with his charm and drunk on his attention.

The bell chimed with your arrival, and Steve watched you with half-lifted eyes as you slid his way. You sank into the booth with grace, reaching for a pink sugar packet to fiddle with.

"Got you a coffee. Vanilla creamer," he said, motioning toward the stained white porcelain on your left.

"Thanks."

He sat, hunched, like halved version of himself. Sliced by his own wrongdoings, a pile of poisoned pieces in a diner booth. His knuckles ached from punching the old bag in his apartment, eyes heavy from crying. He cracked a toe on the end of his dresser and broke a mug. He nicked his finger on a shard when he fumbled to put it together again.

Even his regret was enraged.

Steve tapped his sunglasses again, scratching at his scalp. You cupped your palms around the mug for warmth, steam fogging the lenses of your glasses. He hated that he didn't know what to say. He hated that you weren't yelling at him, throwing things at him—something. He'd let you tear his hair out if it meant you still cared enough.

"Baby...I don't know what to say," Steve sighed airily, hands resting on the table.

You clicked your shoes together under the table, watching the vat of brown liquid ripple in your mug. "Yeah."

Steve looked at you. He watched you stare blankly, he watched you breathe out. "Yeah? That's...that's it?"

You shrugged. "I'm tired of being the one to explain, Steve. I'm tired of outlining your own behavior for you."

Steve dragged a hand through his hair, huffing through his nose.

"Alright, I'm not...I'm not sayin' you should. I just—I'm just sorry. You know I'd never hurt you—"

You cut him a look: incredulous, pinched, pained. Steve tossed his glasses aside, and they skittered toward the sugar packets.

"—on purpose...God, baby, I'd never hurt you on purpose."

You rolled your lip between your teeth, looking toward your arm, bruise hidden beneath another sweater. Steve mirrored your gaze, head sagging toward his shoulder.

"Can I...can I see it?" he murmured.

You turned to him, cheeks warm. The diner clinked with cutlery, clattering with piles plates. Only a few truckers and an old woman filled the space around you.

You pulled away from your coffee and nodded, hands falling to your lap. You took another look around as Steve sat up, inhaling to steady himself, and inched toward the edge of the booth.

"Not here."

Steve followed you to the alley, keeping a reasonable distance that killed him to maintain. You rolled your sleeve up, back to the brick wall, and let Steve cradle your arm to inspect. The hand that squeezed the skin scraped gently across you now. You shivered as his breath fanned the indigo mark. It was starting to fade at least.

You were about to remark on this small relief, attempt an ill-humored joke, when Steve collapsed to his knees. Chunks of gravel skittered with his weight upon them. You gasped and flinched at his sudden movement, gazing down to find his mouth coating your arm in weepy kisses.

You were frozen in his featherlight touch, fingers barely pressing into your wrist; smattering you in wet lip prints.

"Jesus, m' sorry. M' so—" He sniffled, loud and slurping. "M' so fuckin' sorry."

You leaned into the brick for support, mouth agape and only capable of silence.

"Please f-forgive me, angel, please. I'll never do it again, I p-promise," he whimpered, eyes like shallow, pink pools of water pleading up at you.

With unsteady fingers, you lifted your right hand to his cheek. He fell into you touch, sighing into the skin. He pressed a kiss to your palm, smeared tears against your uninjured skin. He hiccuped for air, jolting with stacattoed sobs. You'd never seen him so distressed. The closest he ever came to this was in Seattle, when the mention of his mother sent him into a spiral.

You slid your hand across the nape of his neck, lifting your palm to glide down the back of his silky hair. "Alright. Alright, Steve, it's okay."

He fell forward, arms winding around your thighs, face smushed against your stomach. You buried your fingers in his hair, kneading like dough.

"It's okay, you're okay. I forgive you, baby."

Steve nodded, squeezing you tight. You ached something awful in your gut, a piercing pang in your chest. You dipped down to press a kiss on his head, squeezing your eyes shut.

And right there in that sharp graveled alleyway, you got down on your knees with him. Eye to eye, mouth to mouth, you hid your bruise beneath a sleeve again and attached yourself to him. His tears were salty and cool, sucked free of warmth by the air nipping at exposed skin. His lips were soft and tasted like acidic coffee.

Remnants of a sob lingered on his tongue when he exhaled into your open mouth. His hands were hot and heavy on your cheeks. You clutched at his hoodie for dear life. He tore away from your mouth and journeyed kisses down your cheek—open-mouthed, full of breath, a little slice of teeth. He wandered to your neck and nuzzled deep.

A ceremonial on your knees.

Your mother would have questions. Your father wouldn't trust Steve for a long time. Your little brother would never know the difference. Big and Mikey would take the pair of you back without a word, because at least their pockets would still be lined with dough.

And Steve?

Steve learned that you'd stay, no matter how bad he could be.

♡ ♡