#oc: bombshell

[irradiatedvulture]

Workin on a new wip

[qlossytbh]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 in which you and spencer almost say i love you four times and one time where you actually do.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 16+ minors dni!, fem!reader, established relationship, spencer is down bad, so is reader tho, idiots in love, they’re both lowkey rlly hormonal bro, pet names (love, handsome), this one’s a rollercoaster, fluff, angst, lots of suggestiveness because reader likes to tease lol, allusions to smut (didn’t actually write it tho sorry!) fighting, spencer kinda acts like a bitch, makeoutshesh, mentions of reader being insecure of her physical appearance, mentions of typical cm content, mentions of blood, mentions of reader getting hurt, protective!spencer, derek and reader have a cute friendship, lots of mentions of maeve so spoilers on that end, pls let me know if i forgot anything!!!,

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 8.1k (damn)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had many cute loose concepts and i kinda meshed it all into one fic. this is also loosely based on birds of a feather by billie eilish! im in love with this piece ugh

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time

“You look different,” Derek mumbled, mostly to himself, but loud enough to catch on. You turned towards his voice. The only thing different was that Hotch had let you come in later than your usual schedule since you had a random doctor's appointment— Oh, and the recently purchased light-blue button up you were wearing.

Your brows furrowed at Derek, one hand adjusting the strap of the purse that hung loosely on your shoulder as a light brown bag sat comfortably in the other. “Different..?”

Emily followed Derek, joining in as she glanced over at you from her own respective desk. “Actually he’s right,”

“I’m wearing a new shirt..?” You fiddled with the first button of your shirt, pursing your lips in bewilderment.

“No—“ Emily squinted at you. “It’s something else..”

Your mouth hung slightly open, not really sure how to respond to their prying eyes. They both were glancing at you, then at each other, then you again, but this time up and down—

“I hope it’s a good difference,” You commented as you waltzed past them and towards your boyfriend's desk. Spencer was hunched over at his desk, eyes practically burning holes into the files that sat in front of him.

His lips were pursed familiarly, just like he always did when he was so concentrated, along with the familiar furrow in his brow. His hair was tousled, a strand or two falling flat in front of his forehead. He looked so good it made you dizzy.

An instinctive smile had already reached your face once you made it to his desk. You leaned over him, slapping the brown bag on top of the files he was reading. He flinched slightly, but nevertheless, was finally pulled out of his deep concentration pool. You placed your palms on his shoulders, running them down his chest as you leaned over to hug him from behind.

You placed a kiss underneath his ear. “Hi handsome,”

He sank in his desk, realizing it was only just you and immediately easing. He hummed placidly, entranced by the sound of your sickeningly sweet voice. You pulled away to which he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder at you.

You gave him a soft smile, one you used that made his heart soar. How your eyes grew lenient and lips curved gently upwards as you scanned as much of his features as your brain could possibly take in.

You placed both hands on his shoulder and nudged your chin towards the bag. “Brought you your favorite,”

His hands were already on the bag before you could say anything else and when he looked inside he was in fact correct on his suspicions when he saw two chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.

They smelled heavenly and he knew they were enough to cure his very major and very much present sweet tooth he had woken up with this morning. A large uncontrollable smile slapped right onto his face as he opened his mouth. “I—“

He stopped, clamping his mouth shut abruptly.

Thank god. He swallowed those three words that had nearly left his mouth, pushing them right back into the back of his throat before the damage could be done.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time this week where he let the confession accidentally slip. He realized that as of recently, he would catch himself with more and more of a necessity to tell you how he felt.

The two of you started seeing each other romantically about six months back. It was completely out of nowhere when he asked you out for the first time. The second— and third, and fourth and continuing times after were more than expected.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to realize how much of an importance the other partook in your day to day basis, even despite being friends for so long prior to the dating.

And everyday he saw you he felt this big tightening in his chest that made it actually impossible for him to breathe. He felt all this pent up emotion that was getting harder for him to manage with every passing day.

It scared him, how much he cared about you. How much he wanted you to be a part of his everyday life and how much he wanted to tell you how it made him feel— how you made him feel.

But that fear was exactly the reason why he’d clamp his mouth shut every single time he felt like he wanted to tell you.

“I—uhm,” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, really I—“

You watched him, titling your head to the side with a prying gaze. “Have I ever told you how amazingly perfect you are?”

You purse your lips, leaning over his shoulder and pretending to be deep in thought. “I’m not sure— I think you’re gonna need to jog up my memory.”

He shook his head, huffing a laugh as you leaned down and pressing a long kiss onto his lips. You hummed in contentment, feeling the fuzziness in your chest reach every nerve in your body.

“Hey,” You pulled away, glaring over at Derek from Spencer’s desk. “Calm your hormones or I’m telling Hotch to hit HR up,”

“Actually hormones aren’t something you can consciously control, they’re a biological response to situations we find—“ Spencer quipped, earning a loud groan from Morgan.

You rolled your eyes, looking down at Spencer and reaching a hand up, running it ploddingly through his thick brown curls. “Are you coming over tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah,”

“Looking forward to it,” You pecked his lips once more. Before rounding his desk and making a b-line for your own.

Spencer scanned you up and down as you waltzed away, not realizing you were wearing the shirt you bought last weekend. The one that enhanced the beauty of your hair and skin color, mapping a perfect picture he wanted to get lost looking at. He also couldn’t fail to avoid the way the shirt deliciously hugged every curve and bump your body had to offer. And those dress pants—

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning internally. He then thumped his forehead onto his desk, cheeks blazing with heat, knowing he was more screwed than anyone in this whole building, a lost cause if you will.

As you strutted past Derek and Emily’s desk towards your own, Emily gasped loudly. “I think I finally got it,”

“Yeah, I completely agree with you,” Derek followed. You looked at them both quizzically.

“Could it be?— No,” Emily gasped once again and you immediately noticed that it was fake, alarming you of whatever game they were getting at.

“Yeah, I think it’s finally happened.” Derek leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue and smirking over at you. “Pretty girl here is in love,”

Your cheeks turned hot, as your eyebrows shot up defensively. “What?”

Derek liked to say the two of you were still in your ‘honeymoon phase’ and you couldn’t disagree with him— it was the most accurate description of your relationship with Spencer.

But saying in love triggered something— physically and emotionally.

“No wonder she looks so different,” Emily tutted. “She’s got that ‘happy in love’ glow to her.”

“Shut up,” You have the strap of your purse on a death grip as you opened your mouth to protest but failed miserably as all the words died in the back of your throat. Thank god Spencer seemed preoccupied with the donut you had just given him.

“I’m—“ You shuffled, slapping yourself internally. Way to give it away. “You guys need to find a better hobby.”

And with blazing cheeks, a dry throat and a concerning pattering heart blaring against your throat, you stalked your way back to your desk.

The second time

“But that isn’t fair Spencer!” You groaned, gripping your bag as if your life depended on it. “You can’t expect to save everyone and then blame yourself when it doesn’t go well,”

There had been a sensitive case today, clearly an unsuccessful one. Spencer, like usual, jumped at the first opportunity to start blaming himself— for not being quicker, for not being smarter.. Whatever reason he could nitpick at, he was currently doing so.

You tore your purse off your body and tossed it into a small basket by your front door. You roughly tore your heels off, slightly relieved at the feeling off the palms of your feet on the wooden floor.

“There were flaws in the profile— flaws in the geographical profile,” He huffed, frustrated, filling every fiber of his words. He tore his satchel off his body, grabbing his files from it prior and slapping them onto your coffee table. “We couldn’t even correctly pinpoint the Unsubs M.O before he started sadistically killing again, we couldn’t—“

You felt for him, you truly did. Spencer was one of the most kind hearted, considerate people you knew, but that came with a lot of self-demands. He had to be everything at once, and be there for everyone at once and if he didn’t reach the bar he’d set up for himself, this would happen.

He pushed past you and towards your kitchen. “Spence, we aren’t going to solve every case, no matter how good our work may be.”

“You think I don’t know that? The average percent of homicides cleared or "solved" is 60 to 65 but around 35 to 40 percent go unsolved.” You opened your fridge, grabbing a pitcher of water and grabbing a glass from your cabinet as you listened to Spencer.

“35 to 40 percent, do you know how high that is?!” He stressed. You realized his irritation was heavy because he was reaching his peak of rambling.

Spencer just couldn’t stand when things like this happened. When people did horrible things and got the luxury of roaming free— he couldn’t help but feel like he was at fault for that. If he was just quicker, or smarter maybe they would’ve caught whatever bastard was terrorizing people.

“I know you know that!” You huffed a breath of frustration. “But that’s the way this job works Spence!”

“What would you know about how this job works?” He turned, hot on his heels, facing you with an indescribable exasperation pooling around his eyes.

You stopped in your tracks, looking up at him sharply and setting the still empty glass of water and pitcher back onto the table “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes were deeply upset— cold and hard and so much different from the soft and welcoming gaze of your partner. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler. You joined the team around three years after the rest of us.”

You stared at him with incredulity. When in a relationship with somebody, as well as learning all of their admirable virtues, you also learn their defects. And one of Spencer’s defects was that he had no filter whatsoever when he got angry. He just said the first thing that came to mind and spit it out and towards whichever person was unlucky enough to fall victim.

Not that the two of you fought often because you quite literally never did— but you’d see him pissed at people and his petty side sometimes felt the need to make an appearance.

You, however, had never had to experience this firsthand. You’d seen it happen at work, with JJ, with Derek, with the press. But two of you had never spoken to each other the way you were doing now. And if he thought you were gonna let him slide, he’s got another thing coming.

“What about Rossi?” You challenged as you crossed your arms across your chest. “I was accepted into the team just months after he was, you’re gonna tell him he wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler?”

“That’s different—“

“How?” Your veins were pumping with adrenaline. Your fingers shook violently, and the back of your throat suddenly burned with the need to cry. “I had jobs before getting called into the BAU, and I busted my ass off in college—“

“It’s not the same!” He spat. “You had never worked with the team before, it took you months to learn how we processed things, how we handled them.”

You could visually see Spencer bite down on his tongue only now attempting to reel himself down back to earth. And if you didn’t know him better, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the identifiable regret that appeared in his eyes while you continued on.

“And who are you to hold that against me Spencer?”

He swallowed thickly and let out a heavy sigh. You ran a frustrated hand through your curled hair. “All i’m saying is that—“

“I know what this job is like, which is why I’m telling you to get out of your goddamn head.” You didn’t scream at him, but there was a firmness in your voice that could scare practically anyone off.

“The things that have happened, happened today or will happen are never going to be in our control,” You told him. “Never.”

“Just because you’re angry and pissed does not give you a free card to attack me,” You slammed the glass cup onto the counter and pushed past him, making your way out of the kitchen. Spencer didn’t follow you to your room, he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

So as your bedroom door slammed shut, he stalked over to your couch, opening up the paper files onto your coffee table, and rerunning them once again. He wasn’t able to concentrate at all though, knowing you were in the other room tossed in bed and probably crying because of him.

A few long hours later, Spencer closed his files and looked over towards your door. There had been no noise emitted whatsoever from your room, which he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He felt like an idiot. Presumably so, he was so stupid for just lashing out like that on you. Your intentions were never ill intended, yet he still pushed you away and he hated himself for that.

He stood up, making his way into your kitchen and grabbing the empty glass. He poured some water into it and went over to your door.

You were lying down, blankets wrapped around you protectively as your back faced him. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling the endearment tighten in his chest.

You stirred in your sleep as the bed sunk beside you, groaning softly. Spencer hovered over you, setting down the glass of water on the nightstand beside your head.

“Hey,” His voice was very soft, maybe even enough to send you back into the nap you were in— until you remembered what had happened earlier and thought that maybe talking to him was a better idea.

Your eyes burned and your head hurt. You sniffed away the buildup that the crying had caused. You then blinked away the grogginess from your eyes, along with the slight burning sensation due to the tears you had shed earlier. “Hey,”

Your sleepy voice was enough to send Spencer into a whirlwind. It tugged at the strings of his heart and all he wanted to do right now was grab you in his arms and hold you there forever.

He laid on his side beside you, running a soft hand across your arm with the encouragement for you to turn around and face him.

A slight sense of anxiety was coursing through him. He was scared that a part of you was still mad at the way he spoke to you, and the worst part was that he couldn’t blame you, because he had in fact acted like an idiot.

You blinked up at him from over your shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Around nine?” You hummed, flipping on your side and turning to face him. Spencer slapped at the nerves inside him and shifted slightly in his position.

“Hey,” He reached his hand over to yours and intertwined his fingers with your own. “Were you crying?”

“Yeah,” His tone hadn’t been patronizing or ridicule intended, it was more so concerned. You reached up to rub your eye.“You were pretty fucking mean.”

Spencer wanted to kick himself. Truly. There wasn’t anything else to say but how utterly stupid he had been for causing you any type of harm when his main promise was to prevent you from any of it.

“You should drink some water,” He lifted himself up by his elbow, hovering over you again and reaching for the glass.

“I’m not thirsty,” You mumbled, snuggling closer into your pillow.

“You should still drink love, you haven’t had a single drop of water since we got here and you’re probably dehydrated,” You didn’t look at him. “I added those watermelon electrolytes you like so much.”

You peered at the glass, suddenly feeling deathly thirsty. With a huff, you reached for the glass. “Fine,”

You downed the whole drink in a matter of seconds, melting at the taste of the sweet watermelon tartness on your tongue. Once you finished the glass, you handed it back to Spencer who set it on the opposite nightstand.

“Can we talk?” You nodded. “I’m sorry,”

You looked up at him, opting him to continue. “I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. You were trying to help me, and by attempting to push you away I said stuff I really, really shouldn’t have and I’m so sorry,”

With a few seconds of silence, you reached down, intertwining both of your hands. Your thumb glided over his knuckles as you listened to him.

You mumbled. “It’s okay Spence,”

He shook his head. “It’s not, honestly. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

Yeah, good point.

“I know,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But you said that you're sorry and next time we’ll learn how to manage these things a little more efficiently.”

You quickly pulled his arm over your body and scooted forward, too tired to dwell in an emotionally exhausting conversation, nuzzling your face into his neck while his arms instinctively tightened around your frame. “We’ll get the hang of this, okay?”

There was silence after that. One that could’ve been filled by anything, honestly.

Those three words were all you wanted to say right then and there. It had been on your mind a lot recently, how Spencer was making you feel a ton of scary and big and complicated feelings— all amazing but terrifying. And those three words felt the most accurate when it came to telling him how you felt about him.

You really wanted to tell him at that moment. You don’t know where the necessity came from but it hit you like a tidal wave. Strong and capricious. Uncontrollable almost.

But then the fear settled in and you’d obstruct yourself from doing so.

So you didn’t say it, even though you may have wanted to.

Instead you just held him tighter and nuzzled into him as close as you physically could, hoping that somehow the message would get across. He placed a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Okay.”

The third time

You smiled into the kiss, tugging at his hair as you leaned back, supporting yourself solely on his grip around your lower back. Your legs rested on either side of him, sitting in his lap while his hands raked across your back in a way that made you feverish.

His lips moved swiftly across yours. He squeezed your hips, fingertips slipping just slightly underneath your shirt. You shivered at the contrast of his cold fingertips against your blazing skin. Spencer pulled away, voice breathy. “Is this okay..?”

“Yes,” You whispered back before pulling him onto your lips again.

Your relationship with Spencer was something that made your heart feel so light and airy— something so pure and easy. It made you grow dizzy just thinking about his hands on you and all the sweet things he’d whisper in your ear constantly. How he was always so considerate and sweet and perfect.

You were staying the night at Spencer’s apartment, too tired to drive back to your own apartment after work. But some things lead to others and well— yeah.

When having to restrain so much physical contact at work, strictly wanting to remain as professional as possible, you could merely blame yourself for needing him like this once back at eithers apartment.

You hummed against his lips, raking your hands slowly through his hair. The kissing hadn’t stopped for the past half hour or so— honestly you lost track of time.

Spencer pulled away breathlessly and placed a few messy but calculated kisses on your jaw and neck. You smiled almost stupidly. He pulled away, looking at your dozy face and feeling his chest tighten.

Your lips were slightly pinker than usual, and puffier. Your hair was just slightly tousled while your cheeks glowed a beautiful red hue. Your fingers remained tangled in the locks of his curls.

“You look pretty,” He was saying that as if it was another one of his scientifically proven facts, as if no one could say or believe otherwise. You tucked a small curl that had slipped onto the side of his face behind his ear, humming passingly. However, you never found his eyes, only focusing now on the curls that sat comfortably framing his face.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed, fiddling with the hem of your loose shirt. “You do that often,”

You look down at him, questioning him with a hum. “Do what?”

“Overlook the things I say when I compliment you,” He remarked. “Like you don’t believe me.”

You still didn’t move your attention from his curls. You didn’t believe him most of the time.

You weren’t an insecure person, not entirely anyways. You put a lot of focus on your physical appearance, always maintaining your clean look intact to the public eye. To many, you were considered extremely attractive. But unlike popular belief, you had many insecurities that you always tried to overlook. Sometimes it was hard though.

It was just hard for you to understand how he saw you so perfectly, like you had not a single flaw. ‘Beautiful’ and ‘breathtaking’, just like he always says when he sees you at work or back at your apartments. How he’s able to litter you with a million compliments

“I don’t overlook your compliments,” You let out an airy laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him properly, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t..!” You laughed, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a long kiss. He drew away, only by a few centimeters, desperately trying to get his point across because god forbid Spencer keep his thoughts to himself.

“You’re deflecting,” He whispered over your lips before you laid another feather-like kiss into his lips. You hummed dismissively, assuring him that you weren’t avoiding anything.

But god, if you didn’t stop kissing him so softly and so painfully slowly, if you didn’t stop shifting around on his lap the way you were and if you didn’t stop your hands from wandering their way across his shoulders and chest— he was going to have a hard time remaining composed.

“You’re—“ A kiss.

“trying to—“ Another kiss.

“distract me,” It was as if you were a magnet he was so desperately trying to detach himself from, but failing miserably. Gravity itself pulled him towards you, he couldn’t help nor control it. He couldn’t blame himself either.

“Is it working?” You whispered, voice dangerously close to a taunt. Your hands began fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, popping the first two undone.

Spencer found himself growing dizzy as his hands dug into your hips. “Unfortunately,”

You kissed his jaw, and Spencer let out a stifled groan. With the willpower of the gods themselves, he reached up and grabbed your hands into his own, stopping their mission at undoing his shirts buttons. You pouted with a glare, pulling away from him as his thumb gilded affectionately across your knuckles.

“So wait,” You pulled back. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to sleep with me.?”

Spencer choked. “What?— No!”

Spencer groaned as you stifled a giggle. Oh, how you loved teasing and getting him all flustered. “That’s not— No.”

You tilted your head. His hands rested on your hips, as he sighed looking up at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

You blushed. “You tell me often,”

“I know you’re beautiful,” He shook his head and sat up, trailing his hands across your back. “Do you?”

“People tell me often,” You smirked and when he glared at you all you could do was kiss it off him. “But I only like hearing it from you,”

“I asked you something,” He let out.

“Sort of,” You admitted meekly, finally responding to his question. His hands came back to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it as his lips found yours again.

“You’re probably the most beautiful person I know,” He whispered above your lips matter of factly.

“Probably..?”

“Definitely,” His hands gripped at the plush flesh of your hips in a way that was making you want to fall to the ground and melt into a puddle of goop. It was so gentle yet there was a specific urgency to it.

He pulled away, kissing your cheek immediately after. “You’re also so smart and kind,”

He kisses traveled across your cheek, to your temple, towards your jaw and that damn spot on your neck that he knew drove you crazy. All while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your witt was slowly melting away with any trace of self control you had left in you as you closed your eyes, arching yourself into his addictive touch. ”And funny,”

“Spence..” You warned.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” He looked back at you, reaching up and cupping your cheek in his hand. “I—“

His words failed him as they whipped all the way back into his throat, daring not to leave his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to say it, there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say to you, because no matter how much he’d wash you in compliments, those three words were the closest thing to allowing you to understand just how much you truly meant to him— hell, it didn’t even feel like enough sometimes.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Which is why he quickly thought of the closest thing to those three words and spat them out, avoiding any growing suspicions. “I love the way you make me feel.”

You weren’t gonna lie, the first two words had gotten your hopes up in ways that were too pathetic to admit out loud. But his words had other intentions, so it seems, and you had to force yourself from slouching your shoulders foward in disappointment.

Beside, it’s not like the things he was saying weren’t causing a wonderful heat to pool in the pit of your stomach— and among other places.

You watched him, for a second or two, trying to maybe tell him with your eyes what you couldn’t tell him with your words. But it still wasn’t enough, and if you didn’t release the neediness that was starting to take shape within you, you'd quite literally explode.

You tangled your fingers within his hair and pulled his mouth onto yours in a steady but desperate kiss. He responded pretty well, given since his hands found your waist instantly and tugged them towards himself in a feverish manner.

He began pulling at the bottom of your shirt, signaling he needed it off of you and pulled away, whispering breathlessly. “Can I?—“

“Please.”

The fourth time

“Ouch,” You hissed as Morgan dabbed a piece of gauze onto the now stitched up cut on your head. “Are you trying to give me another concussion?”

Derek deadpanned at you, slightly relieved that you still found the energy to pick on him after being whacked in the back of the head with a pipe by the Unsub.

The team was searching for a local Serial Killer that targeted young women around the area, per usual. You and Morgan were put in charge of entering the Unsubs apartment since Garcia had been able to track it down while you and Morgan were on call.

It wasn’t anything past ordinary. This was your job, you had done this more than a thousand times before— much less carelessly and it wasn’t like you to be so careless. But sometimes you get so comfortable and cocky with your job that you forget about the actual risks of it.

Eventually that cockiness would have turned around and bit you in the ass.

When you and Morgan busted down the door, guns in hand, you split up, each directioning yourselves into different rooms of the apartment— in hindsight that was a horrible idea.

When you walked into what seemed to be an empty room, you stupidly failed to check the back of the door. Which was why a second later, when you opened your mouth to inform Morgan that the room was clear, something solid and cold wacked you across the back of the head, knocking you out unconscious.

You weren’t aware of what happened after that, given how the blunt force had knocked you out profusely and you really couldn't recall anything prior to the attack when you regained consciousness. All you knew is that you were alive and the Unsub had been caught, which was all that mattered honestly.

Derek was now wallowing in the self inflicted guilt of not knowing better. But to be completely fair, you didn’t know better either— you were as much to blame as he was.

But Derek was convincing himself that because of his lack of observation, you had ended up with a concussion, six stitches and a bruised cheekbone.

“Derek—” You pleaded, watching him dump the ice pack onto the counter of the back of the ambulance with an angry toss.

All he was doing right now was huffing in anger. “Come on,”

He turned to look down at you. Shot him a stiff thumbs up and a smile, signaling that you were more than okay. Sure, your head was throbbing, but you weren’t dying.

“Stop doing that,” You rolled your eyes and squashed your eyes shut, attempting to relieve your headache.

“Doing what?”

“The sulking,”

“I’m not sulking,” Derek scoffed. Now it was your turn to deadpan him. He opened his mouth, intending to jump instantly to his defense.

“Where is she?” A panicked voice from the depths of the crowd caused you to grimace, immediately recognizing it to be Spencer’s. Derek suddenly felt dread when realizing he now had to face him.

Spencer could be rather ardent when it came to you and your safety— you knew you were fine, but having to convince Spencer that you were fine as well was a tougher job.

Spencer pushed through the vast amounts of people, finally breaking through the last line of them and finding you sitting placidly in the back of the ambulance. The panic Spencer felt coursing within him was something he wished upon no one.

When Hotch told the team that you were down, Spencer couldn’t help but freak out. He hid it well, knowing he had to stay focused on the case, but god was he slowly crashing. His usual sharp intellect was fogged, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your wellbeing. His head was flooded with questions and worries and he needed to know that you were okay.

He strided over to you, quickly crouching and taking your cold hands into his own. His distressed eyes flew all over your face, scanning it as his hand came up to cup your cheek. His thumb gilded gently over your bruise and the deep furrow in his brows was enough to tell you that his mind was going haywire.

“Hey you,” You said, humor glistening your tone while smiling sweetly and oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Spencer forced a weak smile to spread across his own face.

“Hey,” He cooed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine actually,”

Spencer straightened himself out, turning to Derek. “What did the paramedics say?”

“They gave her six stitches for the superficial cut on the crown of her head and some ice for the bruised cheekbone,” He crossed his arms. “They say it’s probable she has a concussion.”

Spencer felt his blood run cold. “A concussion?!”

You could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to remain calm. It was evident in the deep breaths he was taking and the tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg. He was doing a horrible job at it though, although you wouldn’t tell him that because he’d just freak out some more. His voice was getting all pitchy and his shoulders shook feebly. He sucked in a deeper breath, closing his eyes and attempting to regain his composure.

“Spencer,” You didn’t need him panicking more than he already was. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, probably to scold you or maybe even defend himself, Hotch's stoic voice cut through.

“We need to deliver a statement. Morgan, Reid,”

Spencer looked down at you. But you pushed him to head over to wherever your chief needed him to be. “Go. You can—“

“Hotch, I’m going to stay,” He told the chief, almost finally.

“For the first 24 hours after the injury, it’s important for someone to stay with her to keep an eye out for any new symptoms that develop.”

You clamped your mouth shut and looked at Hotch, who remained neutral watching the two of you. You offered him a shrug, and the two of you knew there was no getting through to him. Hotch hesitated momentarily, but knew Spencer would be more of use if he wasn’t with him worrying about you.

Spencer was as smart as they came but god could he be stubborn.

With a final nod from Hotch, he and Morgan pushed through the group of press. You followed Spencer’s movements with a sweet smile glued onto your face. He sat next to you, close enough so that you could feel the side of his thigh warm against yours.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked again, voice small, worrying that if he spoke too harshly or too loudly it would hurt you further.

“Surprisingly good for someone who was smacked in the back of the head with a metal pole,” You shrugged indifferently. Spencer, however, did not find your humor amusing.

“How sleepy are you on a scale from one to ten?” He asked urgently. You pulled back, pursing your lips quizzically.

“Like three? I slept like shit last night—”

“How about your neck? Does it feel stiff?” His hands reached up, cupping the sides of your neck as his thumbs traced your jaw.

“No,”

“Are you unable to move any part of your body?” His questions were spewing out of him uncontrollably, and it was getting hard for you to keep up.

“I don’t—“

“What about your pupils? Did the paramedics check them?”

“Spence,” You whined, slumping your shoulders forward while your face still rested in his hands. “The bright lights and harsh noises are giving me slight headaches, but that’s it.”

He stared at you. Long and hard, he just looked at you and wondered what he wanted to say out of all the things swirling around in his head.

“What were you thinking?” He asked finally. You stared at him and his eyes hard with annoyance, but still shining an amount of concern. His voice was barely above a whisper. You let your shoulders fall, licking your bottom lip.

You reached up, grabbing his hands steadily from your face and lacing your fingers with his. “We weren’t,”

“We jumped in head first and didn’t think coherently,” His frustration was rational, but to a certain extent. You really wanted to validate his concern, but he was not allowed to get mad at you. “Spencer.”

As you called his name firmly, he only looked away, jaw and shoulders tense and constricted. You sat there, silently waiting for him to react however it is he needed to in order to process.

“I should’ve gone with you, I should’ve—” His head ducked low. His voice was full of frustration, at himself mostly. It didn’t have to be because this was not something he could have prevented.

“Spencer,“ You gave his hands a firm squeeze and tugged on them slightly. “What did we talk about when it came to personal prevention?“

He remained silent. “I’m serious, there isn’t anything we could’ve done to prevent this.”

Spencer couldn't call to mind the last time he had felt this strongly about someone. Maybe Maeve, but he knew deep down it wasn’t the same. He was almost positive he really hadn’t ever felt this way about someone— he’d been in love, but never like this.

Your entire existence ameriolated his entire being. There wasn’t a moment in the day where he didn’t think of you, where he didn’t wonder what you would think of things, where he wasn’t excited to see you every morning for work. A life without you didn’t exist to him anymore— he didn’t want it too.

That could be the main basis as to why Spencer felt so implausibly terrified at the idea of losing you.

His hand left yours, replacing it with a cold emptiness. His free hand flew up to his eyes urgently, pinching them simultaneously to get rid of the minor tears that had welled upon them. He ducked his head low, not wanting you to notice that he had started tearing up.

Immediately, your whole face softened at the realization that he was crying. It tugged on the strings that held your heart up and made your stomach churn in the worst way possible. “Spence…”

Seeing him cry, possibly because of the fear of losing you, made you feel— funny. It gave you this airy feeling in your head that caused you to feel lightheaded and filled your chest with blithe. You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or the affection you felt towards Spencer that made you feel this way.

You smiled meekly, fondness across every one of your features. Spencer cleared his throat and spoke, voice wobbly and unsteady. He sat up, trying to recollect himself. “Sorry, I— I don’t know what i’m crying for—”

You looked into his eyes, eyebrows swooped downwards. At that second a million thoughts ran through your head, but only those three freaking worlds were the only ones that felt adequate enough to say in that moment.

“I—“ You started.

It was right there. It sat in the back of your throat irksomely. You were ready to jump off the edge, to slip into the abyss— to say those words that you’ve been holding off for the past weeks, months even. Spencer watched you, simultaneously growing nervous because he could tell by the way you swallowed thickly that you were about to say something.

“I think I’m seeing double,” You opted. Just the way his eyes blew wide was enough to make you giggle.

Next time.

“What do you mean?! Like actually double or are you—“ His voice died down at the sound of your snort and soon enough you began laughing. He blinked a few times before he glared at you.

“That is not funny.” It irked him massively how you had the capacity to always joke when he wasn’t at all in the mood to. But it also unraveled the itching anxiety that had grown in his chest and replaced it with a deep affection that surged throughout him entirely as he watched you laugh. “I’m serious.”

“Did you know that you look so cute when you’re mad?” Your hands reached up, cradling his face in your palms. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away his frown was still present. The pads of your thumbs rested on both corners of his lips, pushing them upwards and creating a makeshift smile.

“I’ll let you baby me these next few days all you want,” Your voice was soft and sweet, making his head spin as you hovered your lips over his, placing another slow kiss there. “But right now, I’m promising you that I am fine, okay?”

His jaw clenched, eyes flying down to avoid your prying one’s. “Spence.”

You were saying his name one too many times that he was finding it increasingly hard to compose himself. He glanced up at you, nodding weakly. “Okay.”

The fifth time

You leaned forward in the mirror of Spencer bathroom, poking at the scarring on the crown of your head. “It feels weird,”

“It’s scarring tissue, it’ll feel weird for a bit, love” He watched you silently from his seat on the edge of his bed.

“Do you think it’ll leave a scar?” You mumbled, voice tight with concern. “The bruising on my cheek is fading but god help me, if this leaves a weird bump on my head I’ll physically seek this psycho out in jail and give him his own bump to worry about,”

Spencer stopped himself from laughing, finding your pouting adorable.

“After an injury, the inflammatory process signals fibroblasts to lay down new, protective tissue in the form of scars,” Spencer quipped. “But it won’t be noticeable since it’s hidden underneath the rest of your hair.”

You huffed, poking at the bruise on your cheekbone and admitting. “It’s hard to feel pretty when I’m all busted up.”

“You always look pretty,” You continued to poke at your cheekbone to which Spencer stood up, walking into the bathroom and planting himself behind you.

“Stop poking at it like that,” He scolded, reaching behind you and grabbing your wrist. You focused on your face, huffing a breath of frustration.

This past week has been utter hell for Spencer. A newfound persistent anxiety managed to find him after your injury and sink its teeth into him, claiming him victim. You've been staying with him since your concussion, ensuring him that you were safe, but he noticed he’d grown more vigilant to his surroundings when he was at work, more possessive when it came to you and your wellbeing and more conscientious.

You didn’t obtrude, since you understood it was a perfectly normal reaction for him to have.

But he hated it. He hated this clawing anxiety he was having. He hated having the persistent fear of losing you. He tried to decipher whether it truly was all related to the recent events or if there was something deeper. But he knew for sure that the thought of you getting hurt was making him sick to his stomach.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You grabbed his arms, rubbing soft circles onto it with the soft pads of your thumb.

“Bruises make me feel ugly,” You miffed. “Except the ones you give me, I love those,”

Spencer looked up from your neck, catching your gaze and watching your mischievous smile lighten up through the mirror as he cocked a brow at you. You giggled out a laugh.

Spencer zoned out. He just looked at you, watching your pretty eyes latch onto his through the mirror, seeing your body safe and warm and alive in his arms. His throat tightened and as much as he hated it, his mind immediately thought of Maeve.

Not because he was comparing, of course not. He could never— the two of you meant very different things to him and they were very different relationships.

But he could remember how he wasn’t able to tell Maeve that he loved her— he wasn’t given the chance.

And it made him think about your recent accident, and all the times he'd been stopping himself from telling you. Fear, worry— whatever it was, he had been stopping himself time after time from telling you how he felt.

The thought of him losing you before he could ever tell you how he truly feels is something that made him want to throw up.

“Hotch said I could go back to work on Monday,”

“I love you.”

He said it because he could, he said it because he meant it, and he said it because he didn’t want to live a second longer without you knowing how he felt despite its reciprocity.

He won’t ever forget the way your face just fell. Just stopped moving, mouth hanging open and eyebrows shooting upwards. How your mind just went blank. God, his heart was in his throat and your silence wasn’t helping.

“What did you just say?” You asked, mostly in disbelief— entirely in disbelief.

“I love you.” He’d repeat it for you as many times as you wanted him too. He’d do anything for you.

You turned and his grip around you loosened. Now facing him, your eyes shot around every fraction of his face to determine that this wasn’t a lie or a joke or something cruel he was planning.

“Say that again,”

“I love you.”

And it definitely wasn’t.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a suffocating kiss. One that was desperate, and urgent and full of passion and all over the place.

He pushed you against the marble counter, quickly hoisting you up onto the cold tile as your mouth moved along his perfectly. Your hands dug themselves into his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, tugged at his body, pulling him impossibly closer to your own.

He pulled away breathing over your lips. “I love you,”

He kissed you again before pulling away and whispering once again. “I’m in love with you.”

He rested his forehead onto you, reaching up and tangling his hands in your hair. The two of you heaved. Your chest was hammering against your rib cages, the oxygen wasn’t fully reaching your head or lungs and you were pretty sure you were going to faint. It was too much. “You are?”

You both peered your eyes open, looking at each other deeply. He whispered, voice crackling slightly. “How could I not?”

You kissed him, this time slowly and softly, wanting to show him how much you loved him back— needing to tell him how much you loved him back.

“I love you,” You said, wavering an unsteady laugh. He opened his eyes and pulled away, looking at you and infatuated with every part of your existence.

“Really?”

“Spencer..!” Your voice cracked in a protest, ludicrously referring to such a stupid assumption— you’d love him till the day you died. You pulled him closer. “It is physically impossible for me not to love you. Don’t act so surprised.”

He smiled. A big, wide and stupid smile that probably made him look like a kid on christmas morning. He kissed your forehead. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to say it.”

You perched up, hands falling onto his chest. “How long have you wanted to say it?”

He cringed bashfully, letting his hands fall to your waist as he shook his head shamefully. “Too long,”

“Well that makes two of us then,” You leaned forward, placing a relaxed kiss on his jaw. “Was there a point you realized?”

He shook his head. He’s pretty sure that after a month of going out on dates and seeing you consecutively outside and inside of work, he knew he’d fall in love with you. How could he not? “My breaking point, however, was the day you were wearing your new shirt,”

He kissed your neck, giving your hips a tight squeeze. “Which by the way, looked absolutely incredible on you,”

“Is that so?” You mumbled, lips curving up in a smirk.

“I love how it looked on you,” He admitted. “I love you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,”

“I’m never going to get tired of saying it,” He responded. “When did you realize?”

“It was either that time after our first big fight or on that night on the couch when we,” You shot him a sneaky look, to which his cheeks turned pink, recalling the events of that night. You shrugged. “You know.”

You were going to be the literal death of him.

He kissed your jaw twice more. He loved you and you loved him. It seemed like something too good to be true. “I think I’m going to need you to jog up my memory,”

You giggled at the reference, heart doubling in size at the amount of affection you were feeling towards him at that moment. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, emitting a loud shriek followed by a string of laughter as he hoisted you up and carried you over to his bed.

[toanw]

HeartTrace Precure (and their allies)!!

[thepuppetgal]

”Why don’t you do right?~”

[gummygoatgalaxy]

Bombshell

This is my new dc villain oc named Bombshell aka Bonnie Burke

She's a fae and she's shipped with both Beast Boy and Jason Todd!

She has friendos that are gonna be shown eventually

Came up with her while listening to Owl City's song "Bombshell Blonde" lol

[styxxsyringe]

juke-joint jezebel's coming for my cremation!

[saggitary]

Screw it, everyone tell me about one or two of your clone trooper ocs, lore, name, backstory, trauma, design, battalion, etc

I’ll go first,

First up we have Bombshell. He’s a Sargent in the 121st battalion (one of my making). Appearance wise he’s a clone with a blond mutation (get it, blond bombshell?) and he lets it grow out long through the war. Because of the mutation he was kept under closer observation on Kamino which forced him to become a bit of an overachiever so that he didn’t get decommissioned but since mellowed out once the war started and he wasn���t constantly looking over his shoulder.

Fun fact about him, during the war he partook in an undercover mission with his padawan commander and dressed in drag alongside one of his brothers.

No pressure tags I just want to see what’s on your minds @sunshinesdaydream @eobe @ladyzirkonia @dystopicjumpsuit @c-c2224 @graylinesspam @saturn-sends-hugs @clonethirstingisreal @gaeasun @snarkyfina ANYONE THAT HAS A TROOPER OC REBLOG RIGHT NOW I WANT TO SEE THEM

[thegingercassette]

Pspspspspspspsps

🥪

[irradiatedvulture]

🎨🎸‼️ for the fanbot ask game

you can answer them individually (one per bot) or for all of them, as you wish :]

Ohohohoh, i havent gotten to chat about my bots in a WHILE so here we go. I did have to search the base of my brain for lore. But, here we go! Answers under the cut.

🎸Do they play an instrument?

Bombshell: She cant play shit. Music is not her forte at ALL

Asmodeus: He can! He can play the bass and the drums. If he could start a robot punk band, he absolutely would.

Moth: He can play the piano, doesnt do it often but he does enjoy it when he has the opportunity to play.

🎨what are their hobbies?

Bombshell: She tinkers on electronics (and other bots, with permission), and woodworks

Asmodeus: Ngl bro sets stuff on fire. Please, take his lighter away. He will arson.

Moth: As see above, he plays piano when not delivering mail. He also enjoys reading high fantasy books.

‼️something about the fanbot you want everyone to know

Bombshell: she has two different cores! Her main core is made of Teal matter (an unstable and highly experimental mixture of Blue matter and Green matter. I can go into it further later if anyones interested). While her alternate core is Red Matter, she usually has Red when shes either highly damaged, or experiencing PSTD-like symptoms from previous trauma shes experienced. Ive also had her for a LONG time, she was originally made in i think 2014/2015ish, back when i was still in highschool.

Asmodeus: at this point hes just me but cooler, im ngl. Amd he smokes, i dont know how but he does, it just works, if it effects him, i have no clue.

Moth: hes one of my oldest ocs! I made him originally in 2013. Hes since got a redesign since then but has stayed fairly similar to his original design.

[domono08]

Hey look my drawings are telling me something!

No I’m not lonely!

[thepuppetgal]

INTRODUCING BOMBSHELL 💣💥💄

[redspacewriter]

the littler things: prologue

a college social media au remake

or everything that happened two months prior to the summer training session.

Masterlist

[tachyon-omlette]

tried using illustrator on something for myself. g1 Eda finds some cool bugs (insecticon designs by @drill-teeth-art I promise I did my best)

[mothysmenagerie]

Some sultry pics of Miss Bomi, aka the pov her gf gets when things start to get ~spicy~ 😏💖😘

[wonderwomanpleasesteponme]

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 150 YEARS

For @compaculaaa's wtfiys for the sparkling sibling au.

It has been a long time since they’ve done this, and ‘this’ being a family dinner. It has been a good 150 years since their family has been in the same place. 96 years since Archa 7 where Elita 1 was left behind to become the spiderformer known as Black Arachnia and claimed that she wanted nothing to do with her brothers who had seemly left her behind, 96 years since Optimus was expelled from Autobot Academy by his own sire when he took the fall for his older brother, Sentinel, 50 years since Optimus’ space bridge repair crew was attacked by Megatron leaving them trapped in stasis pods on an unknown planet, 3 years since Optimus’ team awoke on Earth, and a year since Ultra Magnus was attacked by the Decepticon spy Shockwave, who turned out to be Longarm Prime their old daycare teacher turned head of intelligence, and left in a coma for a year.

With Optimus’ return from Earth with a captured Megatron, Lugnut, Starscream’s dead body and the missing Autobot scientist Mesothulas. With everything that has happened to them and how badly the siblings’ relationship has deteriorated over these last few years none of the thought that this family dinner was going to end well. What they weren’t prepared for was Alpha Trion to bring out the family photo album and start telling them stories from when they were younger.

The Prime family dinner so far has been awkward to say the least to say the least so far. They had tried getting Uncle Maccadam to come, but Maccadam’s Old Oil House’s annual drinking contest ended up falling on the same the day that everyone else could agree on to meet, so he wouldn’t join them until much later. Ultra Magnus originally didn’t want to join them and leave it to just be a Carrier/Creation bonding day, as he was set to join the crew of the Lost Light captained by Rodimus Prime after stepping down from being the Magnus, but Alpha Trion had forced him into coming as he wouldn’t be on Cybertron for possibly years.

Finally Alpha Trion had enough of the awkwardness and practicality no one talking to each other. Alpha Trion pulled out a thick oldish looking book from his subspace and slammed it down on the table startling the other members of his family.

“Since nobody’s talking to each other, I think it’s time we go down a little trip down memory lane,” said Alpha Trion as he flipped through pages.

The siblings and their sire nervously looked at each other not knowing what the oldest member of their family was going to throw at them. Finally, he stopped at a page he liked and held up the book so his family could see. The picture was of Ultra Magnus up a five-year-old Sentinel so the shopkeeper of the store that they were in could see him. The shopkeeper was a tall lanky bot who looked a little like Shockwave with their clawed servos and singular yellow optic surrounded by black nothingness. The shopkeeper held up a pointed digit up towards Sentinel with a tired expression while Sentinel gave them a look that could only be read as ‘get the pit out of my face’.

“Darling, you remember this don’t you?” asked Alpha Trion.

Ultra Magnus’ face was filled with displeasure and disappointment looking at the shopkeeper in the photo. Black Arachnia and Optimus found it in themselves to snicker at sparkling Sentinel’s face while grown up Sentinel sat in between them presently. Ultra Magnus gave a sigh before saying that he does.

“I hardly doubt that any of you kids would remember this, but this was when Optimus had that weird obsession with trains and clocks, and wanted a clock that was also a train, I had just wanted to buy a cheap plastic toy train and the glue a small pocket watch on it, but your sire was having none of that and insisted on getting a costume one made,” said Alpha Trion before pausing the story to take a sip of his drink.

“After the war there weren’t many places selling physical clocks that weren’t apart of kitchen appliances, because every bot switched over to using their internal chronometer, so your sire ended up searching all over the planet looking for someone to make this clock, and the only bot who makes costume clocks anymore turned out to be Whirl, who was apart of the last platoon he taught when he was just a drill sergeant,” said Alpha Trion laughing lightly.

That would explain their sire’s sour mode when he saw Whirl in the image. They’ve all heard stories of how all their sire’s Autobot bootcamp students going on to be great and decorated war heroes. So, one having end up as a simple shopkeeper selling and making clocks would be like one of them becoming a dock worker and not going into the military or in a science field.

Optimus felt embarrassed to have his childhood obsession with trains and clocks, of all things, brought up again after having long grown out of it. At least Sari and Bumblebee weren’t there to hear that, because knowing them they would mercilessly bully him for it, albeit playful bullying. Both Sentinel and Black Arachnia gave the faintest of ghost smiles upon being reminded of Optimus’ childhood obsession.

Alpha Trion started flipping back through the book before finding another photo he liked. Once again, he held the book up high for everyone to see.

The photo was another of Sentinel when he was younger, this time he was a youngling instead of a sparkling. He was sitting on the floor, arms crossed and pouting, looking clearly beaten up. Standing beside him was their sire looking disappointed in his son. Next to them was another beaten up kid and their parent. The other kid although was of a smaller frame build, but their armor looked much thicker than Sentinel’s, with a purple, black and yellow paint job and bug like features, and on top of that the kid looked clearly proud of themself. The parent was another tall lanky bot whose most notable feature was that two of their wheels were encased in metal skeleton wings with two arch shaped metal pieces below each of the wings, they had orange coloured optics, which was rare for an Autobot, and the thing holding the look together was their rust red and sliver colour scheme. The winged bot as though they were barely keeping themselves from laughing.

Sentinel’s face flushed upon seeing the picture as he stood up. It looked like Sentinel remembered clearly what led up to that picture being taken.

“Don’t you dare tell them about that!” Sentinel yelled while pointing at their carrier.

While making no attempt to hide the fact that she was laughing, Black Arachnia grabbed ahold of one of Sentinel’s arms. Optimus followed his sister’s lead and grabbed ahold of Sentinel’s other arm. Both of them pulled Sentinel back into his seat while shaking him slightly.

“Come Senty, let carrier tell us the story,” said Black Arachnia in a sing song voice.

“Plus, it had happened a long time ago,” added Optimus.

Sentinel made a face of disgust at them before snaring.

“Well it isn’t your embarrassment being outed,” replied Sentinel.

“Sentinel, it’s in the family album it’s meant to be something to look back and laugh at,” said Black Arachnia in a matter-of-fact tone.

Sentinel crossed his arms and slumped down into his chair. Optimus thought that it made Sentinel look just like he did in the picture, which made Optimus laugh.

“The story behind this, was that Sentinel had gotten into a fight with the kid next to him. Sentinel thought it was a fight he could easily win, but the kid he was fighting with easily beat him,” said Alpha Trion looking fondly on the memory.

“Your sire wasn’t even mad that he got into the fight, but that he lost it, your sire was even more upset with the fact that the kid’s carrier found the whole thing hilarious and said, ‘at least you didn’t lose’ to their kid,” said Alpha Trion.

Black Arachnia and Optimus couldn’t keep it back and burst out laughing. Sentinel glared at his siblings but that made them laugh even harder than before.

“Hot damn, they look fine though,” commented Black Arachnia.

Black Arachnia’s comment made Ultra Magnus spit his drink and for Optimus to stop laughing. Sentinel audibly ew’d at his sister’s comment.

“I’m sorry?” asked Ultra Magnus, still in shock.

“I said what I said that kid’s carrier is fine,” replied Black Arachnia.

“Elita you can’t say that about people you don’t know,” said Alpha Trion.

Black Arachnia let out a low growl at being called Elita. She scoffed and rolled her optics’ at her carrier’s comment.

“Relax carrier, I do know them, they’re the one who introduced me to Sliverbolt in the first place,” said Black Arachnia.

For everyone other than Alpha Trion and Black Arachnia this was their first-time hearing about this Sliverbolt bot. Ultra Magnus had the worst-case scenario pop up in his mind. Was his baby girl courting someone without him knowing? Ultra Magnus shook that thought from his head, there was no way his daughter got into something that serious without telling any of them.

“Who’s Sliverbolt?” Optimus asked.

“Oh, he’s just a friend, Acidbrust introduced to me at a science conference when he was helping them move some things that they needed for their presentation,” said Black Arachnia a little too quickly and while rubbing the back of her head with her servo.

Black Arachnia’s older brothers and sire looked at her speciously, already not trusting this Sliverbolt bot.

“And how do you know Acidburst?” asked Ultra Magnus.

“Oh, I met them after my accident in one of Fortress Maximus’ many labs, they were originally assigned to my case but managed to convince Perceptor to let them transfer back to the project they were working before mine,” said Black Arachnia more casually than when she was talking about Sliverbolt.

Ultra Magnus let the relief wash over him. ‘Good, so this Sliverbot bot is just a lab assistant that she met, nothing to worry about,’ thought Ultra Magnus. Unlike their sire Sentinel and Optimus couldn’t care less if their sister was courting someone or not, it was none of their business and her decision. They would only get involved in their sister’s love life if the guy she happened to be an afthole.

During the time that Ultra Magnus, Sentinel and Optimus took to question Black Arachnia, Alpha Trion flipped through the photo album again looking for another picture he liked. Finally, he found one, slamming his servos down on the table to get everyone’s attention. Once again, he held the book up for everyone to see the image clearly.

The photo was of a Black Arachnia when she was Elita 1 as a young child. Elita appeared not to be happy whatsoever. Laying around her were some of her childhood dolls, and next to her was another youngling who appeared to be holding one of Elita’s dolls and giving Elita a questioning look. The youngling was a femme of a larger build, she also had the same colour scheme as the kid that Sentinel had gotten into a fight with only with slight barely noticeable alterations, on top of her helm was two large grey horns and a red visor covering her optics. All of this gave the youngling Decepticon look.

“As all of you know Elita used to be a bit of a brat when she was younger,” started Alpha Trion, “this was when we decided that you kids needed some friends who weren’t also children of high council members, even though I don’t think that you even got along with most of them.”

Sentinel, Optimus and Black Arachnia remembered their creators painful attempt at getting them to try to make more friends. All the younglings that they tried to get Black Arachnia to befriend all liked to rough house and run around screaming when she didn’t, the kids Optimus was forced to be friends with were way too into horror and gore to be healthy for younglings their age when he couldn’t stand that kind of things at all, and Sentinel could not get along with anyone outside of council kids at all back then. It was a disaster to say the least.

“Elita couldn’t stand the kids we set up playdates with, especially Shrapnel here, because according to Elita she was ‘too wild’, which is funny to look back on when you realize that Shrapnel is also Acidburst’s creation along with the kid, Bombshell, in the picture with Sentinel I just showed you,” said Alpha Trion while smiling.

Now that was kind of funny knowing that Black Arachnia was friends with Acidburst themself and with someone they introduced to her. Black Arachnia had changed quite a lot since childhood especially when her accident happened, so it made sense that she was able to get along with bots that before she normally wouldn’t have gotten along with. Sentinel made a mental note to look up Bombshell’s name in the Autobot database to see what he had been up since their last meeting. Optimus also wondered what they were up nowadays, so he also made a mental note to look up each of Acidburst’s creations on the database.

Black Arachnia cringed thinking about her past behaviour, it was just too embarrassing to be something that she would do now with her disfigurements. She also felt even more embarrassed because her creators were cooing over how cute she used to be as a sparkling and her brothers laughing slightly at it.

” Well, since you told us about our childhood, how about you tell us about yours?” asked Black Arachnia, “it only seems fair.”

Alpha Trion laughed at his child’s comment. Ultra Magnus was worried about this because he knew, judging off the stories he was told by Alpha Trion and Maccadam, that his conjunx and his siblings were menaces to society when they were younger.

“Of course, my child, because unlike some bots I am not ashamed of my childhood misadventures,” said Alpha Trion.

Alpha Trion flipped to the front of the book where the pages had yellowed, and the edges of the paper were heavily damaged. That section of the book was very thin, making everyone else realize that because this was so long-ago Alpha Trion probably didn’t have that many photos of his siblings that survived the years. After a shot time Alpha Trion, found a photo that he liked. Alpha Trion looked sadly at the photo before holding it up for the rest of the family to see.

The photo displayed a youngling of about 13 vorns old, with a dark almost purple blue and black paintjob, a crown like headpiece and a flowing purple cape with stars all over it, but the thing that caught everyone’s attention was the fact that the youngling’s face was obscured was a blinding that travelled down to their chasis, sitting down in front of a fountain. Behind the youngling and fountain in the sky, clear as day was two older younglings sword frighting each other. The two younglings were being lifted into the sky by the thrusters in their pedes, they were quite obviously flyers. The one on the left had a white and magenta paintjob with gold highlights, with rather untraditional wings making it obvious that they weren’t a seeker or any kind of jet. The one on the right had a primarily red paintjob with some white here and there and some purple on their helm, without a doubt the figure in the picture was Alpha Trion when he was a youngling.

“You’re a flyer!” yelled Sentinel in shock.

Black Arachnia froze when she realized this, now that she thought about it, she had never saw her carrier transform for all she knew her carrier could have been forged a monoformer. Suddenly a lot of things made sense for Optimus now knowing the information that his carrier is a flyer. Like how he was able to master flying around with his jetpack on Earth so quickly despite never having flown like that before and why Slipstream had thought that he was Starscream. Sentinel did not like flyers at all, mostly because it seemed like all of them were Decepticons, but he did like the jettwins because the council had complete control over them, so the information that his own carrier was a flyer it him the hardest. Ultra Magnus had known about Alpha Trion’s altmode since they started courting and will forever be guilty about the fact that he made it practically illegal to be a flyer or have an altmode that was warframe aligned on Cybertron, even though Alpha Trion was the one who suggested the law as a way to end the war.

“This was when one of my brothers, Vector, and I had gotten into a fight over something I had long forgotten about and we ended photobombing a picture our carrier was trying to take of our youngest sibling, Orionus,  in front of a fountain in the newly founded Metroplex, unseen in this image is Beta laughing like a manic as she climbed a building to try and join our fight while our oldest sibling, Prima,  tried to break up our fight,” said Alpha Trion while laughing remembering his siblings and his antics when they were younger.

Everyone took some time to fully process that story. Getting into a fight with one of your siblings and accidentally photobombing their carrier as they tried to take a picture of one of their other siblings seemed like that Sentinel, Optimus and Black Arachnia would do. Ultra Magnus looked like he was glad that his conjunx was no longer like that and has since grown into the role of wise old mentor.

“Who’s Beta?” asked Optimus, “they aren’t in our family tree.”

Alpha Trion’s optics went wide at the question before realizing he was the one who brought up Beta in the first place, before a sad look came across his face. Ultra Magnus looked concerned for his conjunx, he knew that Beta was a sour topic for Alpha Trion. Alpha Trion had only mention Beta a servo full of times, he could count the number of times Alpha Trion mentioned Beta to him on one servo, but from what he knew, Beta was a freedom fighter in the early days of a war long forgotten to modern day historians and later a general in the Destrons army, the combined forces of the Autobots and Decepticons’ military back when they were a single faction.

“Beta was my only conjunx before bonding with your sire, she died long before the Autobot/Decepticon war had begun, the only reason why she wasn’t in any of the family trees was because back then we only added conjunxs to the tree after they had a creation with the family member they were bonded, and well, Beta and I never had any creations during the time we were bonded for,” said Alpha Trion sadly.

This was the most information that Ultra Magnus had ever heard about Beta. He always suspected that Alpha Trion had been involved before, but the elder bot had never told him about any of his past lovers, and he had no interest in finding out about them. The siblings also became sad upon learning about their carrier’s dead conjunx, everyone knew that losing a bondmate was one of the most painful things that could happen to someone not only because they were losing someone, they loved but because they were also losing apart of their spark as well.

Before they could become even more depressed by this information the dinning room door suddenly slammed open. Everyone immediately turned their heads to who had opened the door. Standing in the doorway was Uncle Maccadam and an unknown bot with a white and sliver paintjob who looked like in another life they could have been a flyer but appeared to have a sports car altmode.

“Hopefully, I’m not too late,” said Uncle Maccadam, “also I found this one pacing around outside, he said that he had wanted to talk to Black Arachnia.”

Black Arachnia looked surprised to see the sliver bot there before blushing and turning her face away from him. Ultra Magnus saw this and did not like the picture that was forming in his head.

“Hi,” said the newcomer while waving, “the name’s Sliverbolt.”

The boys and their sire were surprised to hear that this was Sliverbolt because he did not look like a lab assistant, especially one that would be in a biology lab. That was when they noticed his Autobot insignia was that of the Elite guard but there was a thin line of red surrounding it signalling him to be a member of the Autobot Airforce. That was when it hit Ultra Magnus on who Sliverbolt was, he was the youngest Airforce captain, even though when he was just a pilot, he wasn’t named the youngest pilot because that title belonged to a monoformer by the name of Nyx and was the commander of a small team known as the Airealbots despite having a fear of heights. At least he was someone that he could keep tabs on and not some random shopkeeper, but that still doesn’t mean he trusts Sliverbolt’s intentions with his daughter.

Sentinel looked grumpy to find out that Sliverbolt was a member of the airforce but Optimus was just glad to meet someone who was able to make his sister happy after her accident. Sliverbolt looked nervous to see all of Black Arachnia’s family there, he obviously wasn’t expecting a family dinner to be going. Alpha Trion waved at them to join them at the table. It took everything in Ultra Magnus to not turn the family dinner into an interrogation by questioning Sliverbolt about his relationship with Black Arachnia.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly. Even though Ultra Magnus and Sentinel were staring daggers at Sliverbolt and Uncle Maccadam annoying the ever-living spark out of Alpha Trion. They spent the afternoon playing boardgames and going over more photos from the photo album with Sliverbolt sharing a few stories about his team which made Optimus respond with stories of his own team. All in all this afternoon made them realize that there was still hope for their family despite all the tragedy their family faced in recent years.

[hsslilly-blog]

i was going to bed but then i thought of claire as jessica rabbit!! so have this. happy halloween! normal claire and phenotypically accurate claire