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moon-ttokki-x · 18 days ago

Note

Helloo

I'm here to ask something like a little too sad? I really like those scenarios. Like members reaction to 9th member's attempt to suicide? But like one of them(Minho or Jeongin) accidentally come to bathroom and see her? It's a little sad but I like those ones. Maybe even add a relationship between her and Chan?

hi~ i love sad requests . . . the sad ones are some of my favourites too, and hopefully this will help someone feel better <3

butterfly - (ot8!skz x 9th member fem!reader)

pairing: ot8!skz (mainly lee know) x 9th member fem!reader

summary: butterflies; the symbols of hope, growth, and recovery.

genre: idol! au, 9th member!au, fem!reader, su*cide attempt, graphic descriptions of self-h@rm, mentions of blood, cvtting, bandages, depression, alienation, mentions of blades, razors, sharp items, mentions of eating and drinking, mentions of fainting, passing out, blood loss, lee know referred to as 'minho' in this fic, bf!chan, please proceed with caution, and remember that you're not alone <3

a/n: this hit a little close to my heart, so i'm hoping this might help some of you who are struggling . in no way am i romanticising any of the heavy and triggering topics in this fic, so please skip if you are uncomfortable . my dms are always open if you'd like to talk . be safe, my loves <3

skz masterlist

The world is grey.

Greyer than you remembered; you thought you'd been getting better. You thought you'd learnt to feel the sunshine warming your skin again, remembered the way you found your mouth curving into a smile randomly. Embraced that familiar feeling of a happy buoyant bubble in your stomach.

Apparently not.

You're not sure how you feel right now. Distracted, angry, dull? Nothing seems to light you up, not even the deepest rage or the best news. Everything simply hit your crumbling shield and absorbed. Like pouring water on a sheet.

The patch simply darkened and sunk, drying but becoming more saturated with sadness every single time. And it felt heavy, heavier than you ever thought it would feel.

You can't taste the food on your plate; the noise of the members laughing and bickering around you seems to fade into the background, the soundwaves passing through as if you were simply a ghost.

A numb ghost sitting at the dinner table with a fork in one heavy hand, rather than a valued member of Stray Kids having dinner with the rest of her group. The atmosphere of the familiar dorm is foreign, unusual.

Like a hotel room rather than your home.

You scrunch your hands and rub your fingertips over your thighs, feeling the raised tissue of old scars bump in smooth, small dunes under the pads of your fingers. You feel the denim of your jeans rustle with the movement, the fabric rough and once-comforting. Now it just feels itchy.

Jisung shouts right in your ear then as he argues with Changbin across the table, and you don't even flinch. It simply passes over your head. Even if you wanted to, you can't find it in yourself to be annoyed at him. At least he's happy.

Is this normal? Am I overreacting?

Surely it can't be fake if you feel like this. But-

Your eyes lift themselves slowly and land on Chan. Previously, you couldn't look at him without a blush tinging your cheeks and the familiar view of a red rose in your mind's eye. The memory of his confession was always one that made you giggle, sometimes at inappropriate times.

Like when JYP fell over on stage and you were laughing because you remembered Chan doing the same thing, falling, and the image of his lovely face accompanied by his cheesy pick-up lines and warm hands came to mind.

But you don't feel like smiling now. Not like you did then.

You're both in the settling-in stage of your relationship; as always Chan has proven to be the best partner anyone could ever ask for. He's never let you down, carried you through the tough times, held your hand and wiped your tears. He knows how you've been feeling, but after a while, out of worry, you began to keep it secret.

And you felt bad. You did. Really.

Because he deserves to know. Deserves to know so that he can help you, kiss it better like he always has. Because that's just how he is, and how he's always been.

But he also deserves to be kept in the dark. Deserves to be able to continue with his life, be a leader and a producer and everything else without worrying that one day your feelings will take over and you'll disappear.

Because right now, that seems like the best option. Surely things will be easier for him, for all of them, if you took yourself out of the equation.

What would it feel like, you think. To drown, to accidentally slip and fall, to walk into the road without looking, to feel the chair leave the soles of your feet, to cut too deep on accident, it would all be an accident, Chan, it was an accident, I'm okay, I promise you'll be okay, everything is okay, I promise-

The fork clatters out of your hand. Nobody notices, the din of the members covering it up. Chan is almost on his feet opposite you, giggling and laughing and trying and failing to quiet the group. He doesn't notice when you begin to stand, then hesitantly sit back down.

None of them do.

It's not a secret that sometimes you need to be alone; the guys understand that you need time to yourself every now and then, when your head gets too loud or the members yell too much. All you have to do is stand up and leave, and go and lie down, tell them that's what you need right now.

Of course, that isn't always the case. Sometimes you just want to be alone, and not because they're being too loud or rowdy. You want to be alone because being around these happy people puts you in a state of disconnect so brutal and numbing that you can't stand to look any of them in the eye.

That's not what's happening right now. A mad impulse rises, a dangerous little thought pops into your head, and begins to simmer in a rather sinister manner in the back of your mind.

You swallow thickly. Your throat is dry. The now-flat soda you were previously sipping did nothing to quell the dryness. Your windpipe feels scratchy and your stomach bubbles in apprehensiveness, but you ignore it and steel yourself.

You turn your head to the left, feeling your neck creak; you've been still for so long- and look at Minho. He's grinning past you, watching as Changbin almost flies at Jisung over the table, clearly unaware of the hollowness rooted in your stomach, no, your whole being.

In every fibre of you-

"Minho," you say, hardly a whisper. His gaze meets yours, and even though he's still smiling and his gaze is not intense, joy dimmed faintly as he takes in your ghostly pallor- you still feel yourself shrink under it. Like an underwatered flower in the hot, baking sun.

"Yes?" He says. You feel Chan turn his head slightly in your direction, and your heart lurches unpleasantly. He's listening in, clearly in concern, but it makes you irritated. Unreasonably so.

"I'm gonna go lie down," you say, not acknowledging Chan as he fully turns to face both you and Minho, the chaos in the background forgotten.

Minho's eyes meet Chan, and his eyes gaze back, asking a silent question.

Is she okay?

Minho nods faintly and smiles at you, placing a warm hand over yours. You fight the urge to wince at the contact; it feels wrong, and all you want to do is shake it off. You exhale slightly as he removes his hand.

"Sure," Minho says gently. "Go ahead. I know we're being noisy."

You nod and force a weak smile before pushing your chair back. No one looks at you, save Chan stealing a glance as you stand up, but it feels like getting up in front of a crowd. You almost throw up over the table.

Excusing yourself from the group, you turn and leave the room. You trail a hand along the wall of the corridor, your knees strangely aching as you take the stairs upwards. Guilt and a mad sort of happiness take over your being and you move faster, almost driven by the manic feeling. Your body feels foreign and alien, possessed almost.

Entering your room, you shut the door as carefully as you can, and swear. No lock. You forgot about that.

Well, there's the bathroom... But it's bright in there, and you won't be able to see what you're doing in the dark either.

You gaze thoughtfully around the room, your brain going faster than it has in weeks. Your LED lights are on; the ones Hyunjin gifted you for your birthday are set to a gentle purple glow, casting soft violet hues over the bed and shelves. His smiling face appears in your mind and you push it away before you can get distracted.

The bedroom will do.

You avoid looking in the mirror as you pass it by, opening the door to the bathroom and rummaging in the drawers, not bothering to turn the light on. You know this routine well enough.

You pull out a pack of tissues, crumpling it in your hand, and reach under the top of the drawer above it. You move your fingers side to side until they catch on a piece of metal, hidden under a strip of tape, and pull it out. The tape dangles and you carelessly push the drawer shut.

Reentering the bedroom, you sit down at the foot of the bed. Shimmying off your jeans, and then taking off your shirt too, you set them aside to avoid any stains. Not that it matters anymore. They'll find you here with the razor blade still in your hand. You tug at the strap of your bra, trying to relieve the sudden tension stuck between them.

You're really doing this.

Because it doesn't matter, right?

Right?

No, you shake your head firmly, tears building in your eyes, stubborn and despondent. This is for the best.

Your eyes scan your thighs. Looking for the unscarred skin, the parts of you that are still smooth, still clean, not too-far-gone, not rough around the edges, not crumbling, not breaking, not you-

It stings a little the first time. Your breathing becomes shallow as you watch the skin. Nothing wells up, and you can't see the first slicing impact of it, the lighting too low to be able to see anything much. Nothing happens, so you do it again.

And again. And again.

The mad impulse takes over.

You draw your hand in messy, deep, harsh lines across your thighs, quick and brutal, and when you look down, your fingertips are stained in blood. So is the blade, and both thighs are a mess. It aches, but it feels so, so good.

Like greeting an old friend, like embracing someone you thought you'd seen left behind. It burns and the wetness of tacky blood sliding down your legs feels... nice, almost. Familiar, definitely.

Your breathing becomes even more shallow, coming in quick, short gasps, your eyes scanning the skin, moving to your arms, drawing long, deep slashes, welling with blood, spilling like the tears in your eyes, tacky and slippery and iron-smelling, black under the light.

The air smells like blood. It's cloying and you breathe yourself in, gruesome in the best way.

Your hands are sticky and drying with the faint sheen and splotches of scarlet, and when your eyes meet your wrist, you pause.

Just for a second.

And then you raise your hand, the blade sticky and red, smeared and slippery between your shaking fingers. A salute, the colour of finality staining your fingertips, wet, raw, real.

You smile as the tears slip down, soaking your cheeks. Squeezing your eyes shut, taking a last breath, and bring your hand down.

Down...

You feel the deep bite of the blade, hear the slight scrape of it, push it deeper, and rip sideways. As hard as you can.

Gritting your teeth, your eyes squeeze even tighter closed and you lift your hand and rip into the soft skin again and again, determined to draw every drop of blackened scarlet out of you, stain your body, stain the floor.

Then a rustle, a flash of light, a tackle to your curled figure.

You smell faded cologne and the world tips sharply sideways. The blade goes flying and your head hits the wall, dull, not enough to knock you out but enough to stun you.

You blink as a warm weight settles over you, emerging from a dazed stupor, frantic and shaking and gasping, and your eyes meet Minho's, welling with violet tears under the artificial light.

"No," he gasps, crying. A sob rips from his throat. "No, Y/n, why- Y/n, oh, fuck-"

You don't say anything, heart pounding, watching as Minho lifts a hand, stained in scarlet, shaking, distressed, cradling your arm. You think you're wearing a sleeve over your arm before you realise the sleeve is wet, and it's not a sleeve of fabric at all, rather a stream of wet, tacky blood.

Dark and deep. White peeks at the edges of the cut, stinging under the coolness of the movement of air around you.

You don't move, but Minho does. He pulls you upright, into his chest, gasping and gulping for air like he's the one bleeding out.

His scream for Chan chills your heart, chills you to the bone.

"Chan-hyung," he shouts, voice breaking, almost a scream. He screams it over and over again. He sounds like a child more than anything else.

You can't see anything, face buried in Minho's shirt, but you feel the back of your head being cradled, eyes drooping, and Minho's tears begin to drip onto your face as he leans over you, holding you like a precious item, fragile, breakable. He looks terrified, but you feel calm, strangely so.

He's shaking, and the sound of thumping footsteps and shouts of concern, not just one set of them, but multiple, thunder towards you, assaulting your ears like a shower of dull bullets.

Light floods the room, blank and yellow and foreign from a lamp in the corner, and Chan's hands are on you, and when you look across, Jeongin is on his knees at the doorway, wailing, Hyunjin and Seungmin at his sides, the rest of the members a horrified, terrified cluster of bodies behind them. You hear a thud and see Felix fall, then more shouting, someone rushing into the bathroom, noise and crying and gasps and-

"Y/n," Chan gasps, phone to his ear, shaking, tears slipping down his cheeks. You can't feel his warmth, or maybe his hands have gone cold. "Y/n, you'll be okay. Stay with us. You're gonna be fine, baby, I promise..."

You let yourself relax in Minho's shaking arms, stare up at the ceiling. His sobs sound nothing like him. Having never heard him cry, it's strange to finally hear his misery. It sounds soft, breakable, almost unreal. It makes you smile.

The world screens out to black.

Minho's prominent sobs fade into the background.

It still hurts. Sometimes.

But only sometimes. Like a bruise that you forget you have, it only stings when you push too hard, knock it against something.

The wound is healing. So are your thighs.

But it still hurts. Just like the memory.

You'd woken in a dazed stupor in the hospital, doctors and nurses and the members and the staffs' faces all blurring together in white flashes, smelling faintly of iron and disinfectant.

Two weeks later, you were back home. The cut wasn't actually that bad. Just bled a lot, made a mess. But not enough to...

Anyway.

The memory, the stinging pain of the event floats faintly around your head like a cloud, filled with rain but unsure whether to pour it all out. You still feel dazed, numb, but not as much as before. Guilty, definitely, but never more loved.

You wonder what would have happened if you'd actually followed through with it. Because deep down, you know that you didn't really want to die. Leave everyone behind, escape entirely, hand your pain over with shaking hands to those you knew. But part of you is still reeling, shaking, frantic inside, when you remember how you felt.

Upstairs, alone, numb.

While your members, unknowingly laughed and bickered on the level below. You wonder what went through their heads when they heard Minho's screaming, saw you almost lifeless, a half-dead, scarlet mess in his arms, saw Chan's shaking hands and the dull light of his phone as he called the ambulance. Felix fainting, the thud of his knees hitting the cold hardwood. Jeongin's devastated wailing.

You hear the sounds of it all, expressionless, barely-alive, but so, so real.

The thin tip of a pen slowly pulls you back to the surface. Makes your skin tingle on the inside of your arm, the sensitive skin around your wrist that you somehow managed to avoid in your distress. That vital vein.

You look down.

Minho's hair brushes against your cheek as you peek at your arm; you can feel the soft tip of the black pen in his hand poking lightly at the skin.

"What are you drawing?" You say softly.

He doesn't reply, too focused on the black lines flowing out of the pen. They're a little shaky, and he's careful not to touch the bandage wrapping your wrist, but you can tell he's clearly invested in leaving the drawings over your arm. You can't see what it is yet.

Chan comes over then, sitting down quietly on the couch next to you. He sets a cup of tea on the table, and you feel the familiar, warm weight of his head on your shoulder, nestling in the crook of your neck. You both watch a tendril of steam rise from the cup, curling and fading into the air in soft, white wisps. The scent of heated chamomile fills the room, and you smile as Chan inhales deeply.

His hand finds yours, resting on your knee, warm and dry and calloused. You feel the steady, solid weight of it over your own, his fingertips brushing your knuckles as he glances at your left forearm.

"Whatcha doing, Min?" He murmurs.

Minho responds with a hum, a little squeak that makes you smile. He sounds like one of his cats. He pulls back, capping the black pen with a smile of satisfaction.

"Do you like it?" He says, clearly proud of himself. Chan chuckles, leaning in to get a closer look at his drawing.

You smile back. It's small, but it's real, genuine. So is the slightly-smudged butterfly on the soft skin of your inner forearm.

"Yes," you say, touching it gently. "I do."

a/n: okay well now i'm sad . div by @webc00re

ttokki's taglist: @emilyywhyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @sillyseob @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627 @jsngprk-vhs @stellasays45 @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @luvvchn

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transformersxreader · 9 months ago

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TFONE Starscream x Femme Reader x Yandere-ish D-16/Megatron

(Minor spoilers ahead, but if you wish to continue go right ahead)

"(Y/n). Are you sure to wish to go alone?"

(Y/n) turns to face Starscream who had a worried look, reaching out for her servos placing a soft kiss to them. (Y/n) smiles at his actions and grip his servos tighter with hers.

"Yes Starscream. It will be more easier and safer that way."

Starscream gave (Y/n) a stern look before sighing in defeat,

"Promise me that you'll be careful."

"I promise."

(Y/n) places a soft kiss on the side of his lips pulling back her hold on Starscream, her servos slowly sliding off before transforming to her jet form and heading off to Iacon city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) walks carefully around the crowded train that was heading to the mines, where she would find out more information about the energon trains and have a look around the mines.

Just before joining the others in the train, she had to transform her armor to fit in more with the other miners, a bit of her amor hiding her cog.

As the train was stopped rapidly (Y/n) lost her footing and bump right into a gray bot.

"Oh! Sorry-"

The voice stop when (Y/n) and the gray bot made eye contact, the gray bot was speechless. (Y/n) look around to make sure no one else saw the small incident.

"I apologize as well."

(Y/n) spoken softly just before she turn walk the other direction, the gray bot reach out for (Y/n) speaking out, going around (Y/n) so now he was facing her

"Uh! Wait! Umm.. I-i haven't seen around before? Are you a transfer? Or..."

(Y/n) a bit surprised just smiled,

"Uh... yes.....I'm new..."

The gray bot noticed that he was probably making (Y/n) feel uncomfortable, and rub his head blushing looking to the side.

"I'm sorry... I just-"

(Y/n) just shook her head, waving her hands up

"No no it's alright."

(Y/n) then noticed a sticker on his left shoulder and pointed out

"You admire megatronus?"

The gray bot look to his shoulder his smile getting wider, without a second started to spill how amazing he was. (Y/n) giggles

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who fans over megatronus."

The gray bot laughs, holding out his servo,

"I'm D-16 and you are?"

"(Y/n). It's nice to meet you D-16."

They shook hands, D-16 repeating (Y/n) name softly, not noticing he was still holding onto her hand.

"Um... well I should probably go."

(Y/n) slowly release her grip and walks off, D-16 still looking at (Y/n) disappearing into the crowd.

D-16 felt his spark beat rapidly, till he was pull out of his thoughts by his best friend Orion pax.

"Who were you talking to D? I've never seen her before? She new?"

D-16 look at his hand then the direction where (Y/n) went and sighs,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) felt disgusted and angry noticing that these miners bots work hard for the terrible Sentinel prime not knowing the horrible truth, after a while of scouting the trains location, she tries to hack the systems to see where would these trains travel too on the surface. But she noticed that she has spend too much time in city,

"Ugh. If I don't leave now, I'll never hear the end from Starscream."

(Y/n) sighs chuckling to herself, just remembering the last time she arrive late and injured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Flashback)

"(Y/n)! What have I told you!!"

(Y/n) was holding onto her shoulder while shockwave was patching it up, (Y/n) looking down, not even trying to glance up at Starscream.

"What were you thinking?! I ask you to stay put but race yourself into open fire!"

Starscream growls out covering his face with a servo, before facing away.

"Leave us."

Both Soundwave and Shockwave left leaving (Y/n) and Starscream alone.

"Starscream I-"

Starscream doesn't let (Y/n) finish, carefully bringing her closer to him a sort of hug.

"I can't lose you (Y/n). The thought. It pains me, after sentinels betrayal... he almost had you.."

(Y/n) looks up to Starscream holding onto his side of his face bring him closer head to head.

"I'm sorry I worry you, I just wanted to do more."

"I know you do, please just be cautious about your actions my dear."

(Y/n) smiles leaning in for a kiss

(Flashback ends)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) blinks noticed she space out for a moment or two, cursing at herself gather the intel and slowly sneaking out where the other miners were working around, till she heard a loud explosion.

"What was that?"

She noticed a pink bot and a couple of other miners waiting at the entrance of a mine cave and out came another explosion and just has the cave was caving in, three miners barely made it out.

(Y/n) wanted to help but the longer she stayed the more danger she can be in, but that thought went out the window when she saw a bigger jet bot punch D-16.

D-16 groans in pain as he felt someone lift him up a bit, his optics adjusting to see (Y/n).

"Are you okay?"

D-16 let out a sigh thinking he was dreaming for a second,

"Yes..."

(Y/n) pulls D-16 up on his feet before helping the other red bot up.

"Thank you? Um..."

"(Y/n). Nice to meet you."

The red bot seems to make a face as he heard your name before but it blurred a little, but remember his friend mentioning your name.

"Hey! my friend was just talking about you non stop, he-"

Before he could continue D-16 covers his mouth a large blush forming on his face and chucking nervously,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure you both are okay?"

D-16 and Orion pax both nodded, they both continued on their conversation, (Y/n) lifted her arm up and open a secret hatch that had energon cubes. But these energon cubes were sweet and had higher energy in them that can satisfy any bot,

"Here, this should help."

(Y/n) hands them both one, both D-16 and Orion pax both looked at each other, thanking (Y/n) popping the cube into their mouths.

"Wow! So amazing."

"This is the most sweetest energon I have ever had."

(Y/n) smiles

A loud ding noise filled the room catching everyone's attention the voice speaking

'Attention, all sectors. Stand by for a live transmission from Sentinel Prime.'

Than a hologram of sentinel prime appears making ever happy to see the "prime" back from the surface. But one bot was not smiling for his return, (Y/n) frowns and looks around to see all these poor souls living a lie. She was pulled back a hand grabs onto hers to see D-16 with a grin

"He's back! Come on (Y/n)."

(Y/n) force a smile joining the other to hear what the prime had to say, she felt sick seeing D-16 praise sentinel. Sentinel prime stating that he yet hasn't found the matrix and that the next day they'll be no work cause there will be a race called Iacon 5000.

(Y/n) was slowly leaving as everyone cheers

"Hey! Wait! (Y/n)!"

(Y/n) turns to D-16, he seems to noticed her look slowly asking if she was okay?

"Yes... I'm fine... I have to go."

"W-will you be there tomorrow? For the race? Are you going alone? If you want you can join me and-"

But before D-16 could finish his sentence

"Don't trust him D-16."

D-16 flinch a bit (Y/n) voice was different, strong yet stern.

"W-what?"

(Y/n) placed a hand on D-16 faceplate, caressing his face softly whispering softy to him

"You are so blind to see the truth... I'm warning you D-16. Please."

(Y/n) slowly walks backwards giving D-16 a last look, transforming her amor out of her disguise from to her normal form, transforming into her jet form. Taking off in a hurry leaving the D-16 still confused, shock and concerned of her words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) made it back in one piece a couple of seekers notices her arrival,

"(Y/n) back!"

(Y/n) transforms mid air and lands gracefully seeing everyone welcome her back.

"(Y/n). Mission successful?"

Soundwave questions, (Y/n) nods her head and points to where Starscream throne area is, heading up the stairs seeing Starscream looking out into the distance hands behind his back.

"Starscream has been nonstop worrying about you."

Shockwave added making (Y/n) chuckle

"I have return Starscream."

(Y/n) bows her head a bit, looking up to see Starscream with a small smile

"Glad to see you safe and sound (Y/n). Took your time with this one did you?"

(Y/n) bows her head again, apologizing of taking more time than she anticipated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So there's multiple trains heading on the east side this time."

(Y/n) had an hologram of the trains destinations and a few data from sentinels prime personal drive.

"This is all I could get, if I've stayed longer I could have been seen or heard by the security."

Starscream lifts his hand up as his way that he understood,

"This should cause some trouble for sentinel, nice work (Y/n)."

(Y/n) thanked Starscream before her thoughts went back to the two miners she meet.

"Something troubles you my dear?"

(Y/n) sighs shaking her head,

"No... just thinking about the bots back in the city still believing in that no good of a prime."

Starscream places a servos on her shoulder, Starscream reassures that they will return to Iacon city but it's just safer this way.

"Shockwave has informed me that you worry for my safety? Is it true?"

Starscream let's out a cough,

"Worried? Oh uh yes. Indeed I was but I wouldn't say I was too worried. I knew you would handle it."

(Y/n) reaches out both her servos grabbing Starscream head, pulling him towards her to kiss Starscream multiple times on his faceplate making Starscream blush and groans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So... what do you guys think? I hope y'all liked it and of course I'll do a part 2!

Thank you again for taking your time to read this I really appreciate it 💕😊

#transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #transformers one #x reader #starscream #megatron #D-16 x reader #D-16 #x cybertronian reader

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future-crab · 2 months ago

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So basically what happened was this. A songwriter got high and sat on the beach and wrote a song about the ocean, and the interconnectedness of everything. It’s five minutes long and there’s no chorus and none of it rhymes, and it slaps so hard I can’t even put it into words.

And it starts out talking about the biggest concepts possible - first God, then the ocean, the continents. Things that are so huge it’s hard to hold them in your head. And it moves - from the ocean to inlets, to estuaries, down through limestone into the aquifer - narrowing its focus more and more until these enormous concepts are distilled down into a single object - a glass of water for a child.

Then the second verse repeats the process on a more personal scale. Another idea that's almost overwhelming in its scope. “If I could have chosen, I would have been born a woman.” And again, the lyrics narrow it down to a single perfect detail. “My mother once told me she would have named me Laura.” Suddenly it’s not a nebulous concept - gender, in all its infinite complexity - it’s a real life. It’s not just a question of being a woman, but of being Laura. And you can hold Laura in your head. The song goes on, builds out that life - “one day I’d find an honest man to make my husband, we would have two children, build our home on the Gulf of Mexico” - but it almost doesn’t need to. It already said everything it needed to say in that one, perfect line.

And then five years later the songwriter comes out as trans, and that one perfect line takes on new layers of meaning. Suddenly you know that the person singing "If I could have chosen, I would have been born a woman; my mother once told me she would have named me Laura," is a woman named Laura Jane Grace. You know that, but she - the version of her recording New Wave in 2007, trapped in soundwaves like a bug caught in amber - doesn't. And that secret, that you know and she doesn't, is another thing so big you almost can't hold it in your head.

so anyway yeah what I’m getting at is I really like the song I think it’s pretty neat 👍

#some of this is recycled from an older post of mine but i just have so much more to say about the ocean #one of the songs of all time #against me!#laura jane grace #am!#ljg #against me! new wave #against me! the ocean #lyrics #sorry if this ended up pretentious i just get carried away when i think about this song

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lexicorp · 4 months ago

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"Reflection"

Starscream proceeds to go bich about his bros to Soundwave as he gets the reports from him instead lol (can't bich about Megs to sound smh)

Continued: Dissonance

Bit if background is that Megatron frags up Starscream's voicebox, making him sound real wack (bit like in TF1) (this post has the doodle for that), and this is right after that. He was rekt and blamed for a plan falling apart that wasn't souly his fault (typical lore lol), so he's already pissed off. Warp just thought he got banged up from said mission and the autobots, and very much doesn't know about how fragged Megs and Star's relationship is (just thinks star's only being dramatic). Thunder more suspects it was Megs and is concerned, but wants Star to talk about it (unsure of how to approach it)

Istg it'd be such a rant for me to go on about my flavor of these boiz. This has been a thing in my brain sm tho (if peeps wanna know some of said lore that's been rotating round here, you can send an ask- I have no idea how to bring it up otherwise lmao)

#starscream #thundercracker #skywarp #transformers #tf fan continuity #tf fanart #warp is genderfluid coded to me #theyre wotever flavor they feel like #cycle of abuse #elite trine #trine troubles

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awesomebutunpractical · 5 months ago

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First pass. I'm not sure if this is everyone but they are the most actual character characters.

I'm gonna draw a conceptual character line-up for Portal Stan Pirate Stan's crew I think.

#OC Talk #The invisible swashbuckler there is Cassian Boone #absolutely not his real name - he's a vain peacock who relishes playing the Distraction because any attention is good attention #he's also the most naturally heroic - can't resist at least looking like Robin Hood #He's the closest thing Stan has to a first mate and according to my notes ''enjoys annoying his captain far more than he should''#Eddie the little guy who almost absolutely is getting a new name #he really looks up to Cass #Eddie looks up to everyone though #Eddie is very small #Blick does not look up to anyone - he's still trying to find his footing after realizing that NO the evil empire he was fanatically loyal d #did not return his undying devotion #He wouldn't be onboard the ship at all but Cora standing there next to him- she felt very sorry for him and snuck him into the galley.#She's pretty sure she's Stan's favorite - been with him since she was a cub - so she figured she'd get away with it #Then we have Abigail #once again name will change #Abi speaks almost entirely in soundwave line language and only her co-engineer Flint understands a word of it #Abi is really confident to almost hubris-esque degrees - she's also been talking sass and is REALLY easy to flatter.#Don't worry she's fine.#Flint there - she's the most grounded. Kind of a surly little jerk sometimes - has strong maternal instincts #She's been pining after Cassian pretty much since she joined the crew but she's seen the kind of girls he goes after - they're idiots.#*Cassian isn't his real name in universe it's absolutely what I'm calling him

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autonomousroboticorganism · 7 months ago

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they get jealous (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader

summary - the bots have trouble witnessing you interact with/stare at another bot/human, and you think it's cute/funny

warnings - none

*(R/M/N) - random male name

OPTIMUS PRIME

Optimus is far from a jealous guy. He trusts you with every fibre of his being, and he does not and will never doubt you because his faith in you is that strong. He knows how dedicated and committed you are to him, so he never has to worry about that. It's just that sometimes he is unsure of himself because he is big, alien and unaccustomed to human tradition.

When Fowler brings in a human soldier to assist with missions that require human intervention, Optimus is initially agreeable to the idea. There has been a need for someone to run interference for the bots when Fowler wasn't available, which was evident a few times during the course of the last few months.

"This is Private (R/M/N)," Fowler introduced him when everyone, imcluding you and the other humans, were gathered all together. "The department has decided that a younger and more...active," he said the word disdainfully, "human recruit was needed."

Miko let out a giggle, earning Fowler's glare, and you had to try your hardest to keep from grinning. It was kind of funny.

"Private, this is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots," Fowler went on to gesture at your lover. "I trust that you will work well together." And with that, the older man left.

(R/M/N) and Optimus spoke for a moment, before the human soldier turned his attention towards you and Jack, Raf and Miko. He looked relieved at the sight of other humans, and made his way over to join your group.

"Hi," he smiled sheepishly, "Is it as every bit daunting as I think it is spending so much time around these titans?"

"You get used to it," Miko grinned. "So, how many battles have you been in?"

"Miko!" You and Jack scolded simultaneously.

"No, it's okay," (R/M/N) chuckled, "I don't think I've seen as much war as Optimus, but I've been on a few rough assignments in rough places." He then launched into an explanation.

While the soldier spoke, Optimus walked over to listen. But he was quickly distracted when (R/M/N) began to only look at you, and began exaggerating his heroics in a blatant attempt to impress you. No one noticed except for Jack and Optimus, who exchanged looks.

"Excuse me, Private, (R/M/N)," the Prime finally decided to cut in when he'd had enough of the soldier's flirtatious looks and subtle flirting, "May I borrow my partner, (Name), for a moment?"

"Oh, you guys are dating?" He sounded disappointed. "Sure."

You were happy to go off with Optimus, as always. You had no idea he was feeling a little jealous, until you noticed that he wasn't talking about anything as you guys walked away.

"Optimus," you called for his attention, smirking, "Are you perhaps...a little jealous, of the new guy?"

"I do not know what you mean," he pretended to be clueless.

"Uh huh...So what did you need me for?"

"I needed you for...cuddling," he ended up saying, the word still sounding foreign in his voice. Which only gave him away further.

You laughed, "That's cute. You don't have to be jealous of that guy, babe. You're way more impressive, and I think we've established that my type is a certain big, strong and handsome Prime. There's nothing for you to worry about at all."

He seemed to relax after you said this, a smile forming on his lips, "That is good to hear. Thank you, (Name)."

"Anything for you."

BUMBLEBEE

Bumblebee trusts you with his entire spark. But his jealousy often stems from the fact that he's an alien robot who is so much bigger than you and thus harder for you to love, and that he can't speak to you like a normal person/Cybertronian. You, of course, understand him and constantly reassure him that you love him regardless of his inability to speak, and regardless of how big or alien he is. He's your Bumblebee, and you do everything you can to remind him of that.

But when Fowler introduces a new recruit, a human soldier to run interference when he's unavailable, Bumblebee starts to get uneasy just knowing that there's a human male your age (Jack too, but Bumblebee trusts Jack) around the base.

"Huh, maybe this won't be so bad after all," (R/M/N) commented after his eyes settled on you, and he started to approach.

Bumblebee's jealousy is ignited in that moment, and fueled by his inability to tell the soldier off for that remark. He crossed his large arms and became a pouty, cross scout, watching you talk to the soldier.

"They're fun to be around," you were telling him. "It's sometimes frightening, but these are the good ones. They're like family now."

"It must be hard having to keep this secret to yourself," he moved closer, sympathetic. "I'm open to being a confidant if you ever need one."

Bumblebee started complaining and whining to Smokescreen, the closest bot to him. He was asking your guardian to tell the soldier off for him, because his flirting was setting Bee off. Smokescreen found this amusing, much to Bee's chagrin.

But you noticed your scout was distressed, and excused yourself to go and approach him, "Bee, sweetheart, are you alright?"

He crossed his arms and pretended to be nonchalant, but when he said 'what do I care if you're making another male friend', you started laughing as you realised what was wrong.

"Bumblebee, are you jealous?"

He beeped and whirred defensively, claiming that he wasn't jealous and he was completely fine and nothing was wrong. All of this made you laugh even harder, and he whined in complaint.

"I'm sorry baby," you giggled, "I just think it's so funny and so cute how you're jealous of someone who I wouldn't even look twice at. Seriously, he's nothing compared to you, my one and only." You started scaling his leg. "You are the only one I have my eyes on Bee, and I won't talk to him any more than I have to because I have my incredibly wonderful boyfriend to spend all my time with. I enjoy our conversations more, even if you're unable to talk, okay? I always have, and I always will."

He felt better after you said that, and scooped you up when you had just reached his waist. He held you in his servo for a moment before nuzzling your smaller form against his face, making you giggle and wrap your arms around his helm.

"My sweet Bumblebee," you kept telling him, praising him and flustering him until he'd forgotten what he was jealous about.

KNOCK OUT

Unsurprisingly, Knock Out never had any fears about you leaving him for someone better, because he considered himself the best. The best looking, the best lover, the best physician, etc. That and he felt secure in your relationship, he knew you wouldn't want to leave him even if you could. You were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. His pretty little human girlfriend.

Unfortunately, he did not consider that you might be in awe of one of the Autobots.

He had taken you out of the warship to let you get some fresh air, as he did so every week. Being stuck on the Nemesis wasn't good for a human, that much he knew, and you needed to get more human food anyway.

He didn't expect it to turn into a high speed chase with the Autobots.

"Is that Bumblebee?" You suddenly asked, looking out the window at a black-and-yellow vehicle speeding up beside Knock Out. "That's such a cool car!"

Knock Out let out a growl, before ramming the Autobot a little harder than necessary. The scout spun off the road, and you laughed.

"Jealous much?"

"I am not jealous!" He protested, "I always do that to the Autobots."

"Right..."

You continued to watch the yellow Autobot pursue your boyfriend, amazed at how quick and agile the scout was. He was skilled for a mere scout, and you wondered why he hasn't been promoted.

"Stop admiring Bumblebee!" Knock Out hissed, jealousy clear as daylight in his voice.

"I'm not!"

"I can see you staring!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," you laughed, finding his reaction cute. "But you know you're much better than he is, right? I don't have to tell you that."

He called for an emergency groundbridge, and sped into it the moment it opened. He liked to taunt the Autobots, but he didn't want to risk it with you inside. His first priority was to get you to safety so they wouldn't take you away from him, and apparently ignore you like a little child because of what happened.

"Knock Out, babe," you laughed, "Why are you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting!"

You raised an eyebrow, "You finally speak to me."

"Sorry, I thought you wanted to talk to Bumblebee," he responded dryly.

"So you were jealous!" You smirked, then tried to get closer to him. "You don't have to be, you know. He's cool but nowhere near as cool as you. I mean you're sleek, shiny and you've got the best paintjob I've ever seen." In times like this, buttering him up usually worked. "You're the most attractive Cybertronian I have ever seen, and I love watching you fight because of the way you move. You have a certain elegance to your movements, which I think is really impressive."

He side-eyed (optic-ed?) you for a moment, before giving in, "Fine. Come here."

You grinned and rushed to his open servo.

SMOKESCREEN

Smokescreen gets jealous a little too easily. He's not an insecure bot, but he does worry that since he isn't from here and he's not like you, maybe one day you'd get tired of not being able to do everything human couples can and you'd leave him for a human. He trusts you, but sometimes he's reminded that you're both very different and it hits him hard. Fortunately, you do everything to ensure him that you are not going to leave him and that you actually prefer him over any human boy.

However, his jealousy returns when Agent Fowler brings another human to the base. This one is a soldier, a young one just a little older than you, but not by much. Fowler said it was because the soldier could help when he was unavailable, but Smokescreen was not impressed.

"Do you ever get used to having giants walk around you?" (R/M/N) asked you when the introductions had ended.

"Eventually," you answered. "They're careful where they walk, in case you're worried about about that."

Because you and the soldier were similar ages, you could talk about a few things you couldn't with your younger human friends. So when you spent an inordinate amount of time talking to him, you didn't see anything wrong with that. But Smokescreen, the clingy bot he was, wanted your attention now. And it was annoying him that you were still talking to (R/M/N).

"Hey, sorry to interrupt but I just need (Name) for a moment," the young bot cut in, scooping you up without waiting for a response from you or (R/M/N).

You laughed, noticing the irritated look on his usually cheerful face, "I didn't think it was possible for you to get jealous, you're so happy and optimistic all the time. What's got you so worried, hmm?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. "I'm fine."

You found it cute how he thought he could lie to you, "You don't have to worry about (R/M/N), you know. I don't plan on being with anyone but you. You're the coolest guy I know, and I don't think I could feel this way about anyone else. Now stop pouting, you big baby. I'm all yours."

He mumbled something unintelligible but gave in, letting you kiss his cheek. Instantly his worries melted away and he was smiling again, that bright smile you loved so much.

"Do you really mean that?" He asked, still a little nervous.

"I really mean it, Smokescreen," you assured him, "I promise. You are my one and only and no human guy is going to change that."

"Oh so I should be worried about Cybertronian guys, then?"

"I never said that!" When he started laughing, you grumbled, "I think I liked it better when you were jealous." And he just laughed even more at that.

WHEELJACK

Wheeljack doesn't get jealous a lot, if not ever. He feels secure enough in your relationship to trust that you won't leave him for any human guy, and he's not worried about the Autobot mechs. Much less the Decepticon ones. He just sometimes doesn't like how someone talks to you, or he'll get annoyed when you spend so much time talking to someone else and not enough time with him. Because yes, sometimes he just wants you and when you're occupied he tends to sulk. Everyone knows when, because he's a lot moodier than usual.

Like now, for example. Agent Fowler had brought in another human to help the team, in case he was ever unavailable. To make matters worse, it was a human male soldier that had tons of stories to tell, which piqued yours and Miko's interest.

Wheeljack had just finished a mission with Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus - much to his chagrin, he had been forced to go with Optimus's second-in-command. When he returned with those two, he noticed you and Miko sitting with the new guy and listening to yet another one of his stories.

"...but he timed the explosive wrong, so we were thrown a few feet into the air while trying to get out of the house. His eyebrow was scorched off, but he laughed the whole situation off like it was nothing."

Miko said something bizarre about eyebrows, while you managed a small laugh. You hadn't seemed to notice that the Wreckers were back, and it only added to Wheeljack's irritation.

"His stories better than mine, sweetheart?" The bot walked over, and didn't even try to hide the annoyance in his tone.

"Huh?" You were confused, but then shook your head, "No, of course not. He was just telling us about one of his closest encounters."

"You call that a close encounter?" Wheeljack scoffed, then looked at Bulkhead, "If only he knew."

You raised an eyebrow, starting to suspect. Wheeljack never boasted about his own adventures unless he was trying to make a point or he was feeling cooped up and wanted to convince someone to let him go track a con to beat up.

"Yeah, you must have some crazy stories," (R/M/N) agreed.

You laughed and stood up, going over to the Wrecker who was narrowing his optics at the human soldier, "Something the matter? Is the big, strong Wrecker intimidated by a human?"

"Intimidated?" He growled, "I'm not intimidated."

"Then what is it?"

"What's what?"

"Wheeljack."

He sighed, holding his servo out to you to get onto, "I just don't like that he's taking up your time with his boring stories."

You laughed again, "Boring? Oh, you are jealous."

He looked at you sceptically, and you laughed once more as he spoke, "Jealous of a small human who hasn't even seen half the things I have? Not a chance."

"Okay, tough guy. But you don't have to be upset, I like listening to your stories more. They're way more exciting," you kissed his faceplate.

"That's right. Don't you forget it."

SOUNDWAVE

Soundwave doesn't express emotions around anyone but you. And even then, he uses the screen on his visor to communicate. However, that doesn't mean that he doesn't feel. He doesn't feel as strongly as others, but he still feels. But he doesn't show it in the way others do. Unfortunately, since you came under his care he found himself doing a lot of things unexpected of him.

You liked to talk. You spoke enough for both you and the silent Decepticon, and he listened intently. When you spoke to him, he gave you all his attention knowing he can't talk back. And some very small part of him thinks that it troubles you that he doesn't talk to you.

He's not at all disappointed or upset when you make a friend in Knock Out, who loves to talk about himself to you. Soundwave is content that you have someone to have animated discussions with while he's busy, but eventually it gets to a point where you hang out more with Knock Out than you do with him.

Like today, he finished a task for Megatron and walked to his berthroom, expecting to find you reading and waiting for him like you usually did. However, you weren't there, so he proceeded to check Knock Out's lab. And you were there, lying asleep against one of Knock Out's tools, though Soundwave noted it wasn't a dangerous one.

"Ah Soundwave, I was just about to call you," the mad doctor approached. "She fell asleep a little while ago."

The silent Decepticon nodded and picked you up gently, holding you in a manner that didn't disturb your nap. Without another word to Knock Out, he left with you and took you back to his berthroom. You woke up on his berth, and looked around in confusion.

"Soundwave?" You called, noticing he was for once not looking at you. And he was obviously aware you were awake. "What's wrong?"

He typed something out on his screen: you fell asleep in the lab so I brought you here.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, feeling guilty though you didn't know why. "I just lost track of time. And I didn't want to disrupt your work, I know you're handling something important for Megatron."

He shook his head, then typed out: I can do both. You do not disturb me. I also like to see you at any given moment.

You smiled at that, "I'll keep that in mind next time."

He responded with another message saying that he's going to try and finish earlier so he can spend a little time with you before you sleep. He would never admit it, but he was jealous of how often you got to see others because he was always working. Maybe he needed to change that.

SHOCKWAVE

Like Soundwave, Shockwave is often busy because Megatron entrusts him with so many important projects and tasks. He barely has time some days to spend with you, as you're usually asleep when he's finally done. He is content with holding your sleeping form, but he would rather you be awake to tell him about your day.

So when you make another friend aboard the ship, Shockwave doesn't think much of it at first but soon realises that his busy schedule is pushing you towards someone else, even if it's not purposely.

You suddenly ran into the lab giggling and laughing as you looked over your shoulder. Laserbeak followed seconds later, the little metal bird entertaining you while Shockwave worked. He had to admit, he didn't think Soundwave would have been the best option for a friend for you, but he was the least hostile. You were probably safer with him than any others.

That thought made Shockwave stop for a moment, an ugly feeling filling him. He was by no means insecure, but he knew he could be too engrossed in his work, and he knew he was physically imposing. He'd scared you the first time you'd met, and he often wondered how safe you felt around him.

"Soundwave's surveillance drone seems to like you," the scientist noted as he continued his work, glancing at you once to make sure he knew where you were.

"Oh, yeah!" You beamed. "Soundwave added a new feature that allows Laserbeak to actually interact with me!"

You sounded so excited that Shockwave turned to look at you, seeing how much fun you were having. He didn't have anything that could elicit such laughter from you, and a small part of him was tempted to shoot Laserbeak.

"If you would like, I can create something even better for you," he suggested, "You could help me design it." Maybe that was also an excuse to have you around him more often.

Your eyes lit up at the idea, and you sent Laserbeak back to Soundwave as you climbed onto Shockwave's table, "That sounds fun! What do we start with?"

Shockwave was so good at hiding his emotions, you didn't even know he had been jealous. But your eagerness to help him and spend time with him above everyone else is what put him at ease, knowing he wouldn't be so easily replaced because you were so attached to him.

#transformers #transformers prime #tf prime #tfp #tfp x reader #optimus prime x reader #bumblebee x reader #knock out x reader #smokescreen x reader #wheeljack x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader

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smallestapplin · 11 months ago

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I too have been enamored with your Autobot Harem and I would like to see more please ...but I'm also picturing how fucking funny it would be if the Decepticons somehow heard about this new human friend and decide to kidnap them for Schemes(TM) So they send one of the minicons to scout things out, to see what this human is about, only to be bombarded with footage of Prowl, of all bots, holding the Autobot Darling in a mating press and fucking them stupid while they cry out his name

The 'Cons are baffled, frightened, and kinda grossed out and promptly nope the fuck outta there and spend the next few days trying to delete it from their memories

And they grow even more distressed when they realize just how *often* the Autobots have their way with you, including Optimus goddamn Prime, who seems to be the most addicted out of all of them, and everytime they try to sneak around there is at least one bot doing something lewd

The Autobots, meanwhile, haven't enjoyed this much peace and quiet for this long in a looooooong while, and they know exactly how to best enjoy it

Cackling at the same brain, but I adore the takes here >:) if you or anyone have anymore ideas don't be afraid to tell me

But I'd love to expand on this

🔞Warning : Autobot harem, Spitroasting, GN!Reader, decepticon pov so everything is referred to in Cybertronian words, non-consensual recording, non-consensual voyeurism🔞

Links to one here and chatting here

When the autobots don't make any moves it's not unusual, after all it's only when the decepticons attack will they be seen, so why not a stealth mission to try and get some intel and break their silly camaraderie?

Oh it was a genuis plan! Get dirt on them, spread it to their friends, and watch them kill each other instead, getting them out of the way once and for all.

Laserbeak was sent first to map up routes, and see who guards at certain times.

It was normal, it was routine even.

Until laserbeak catches sight (and recording) of you, a little human, slotted between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker rutting into your tight valve, transfluid leaking from where you two connect. His hips wetly slapping into yours. Your stomach bulging from the large spike rearranging your insides.

And you struggling to take Sideswipe's spike in your intake while your digits toy with his valve. Drool and fluid leaking down your chin, tears sliding down your face as you struggle to breathe.

"Takin' our spikes like a champ, sweetspark."

"Such a greedy valve! Keeps suckin' me in like you want me to overload early-"

Soundwave is fast in disconnecting the line, shutting the video off and telling Laserbeak to get back to base prompto.

But that leaves the decepticons in silence.

What had they just seen? Cybertronians can interface with fleshies? What nonsense! That can't be right.

It starts off as disgust, but then they start talking and realizing this has been going on for ages.

"Those twins hate humans out of every autobot, so how did a fleshy manage?" Starscream speaks, venom dripping in his voice.

"Wait...wait remember when we attacked their base to get that energy switch, and we came across them, and Prowl nearly offlined Thundercracker?"

The room falls silent again.

Every instance comes flooding back to them, ones they would have never thought twice about are all starting to make sense. The autobots always became a bit more aggressive and protective when it came to defending you.

Even Optimus Prime himself nearly offlined Rumble for getting close to you, before picking you up and placing you with Bumblebee to get to safety.

"So...are all of them with one human or just those two?" Skywarp didn't even want to know, but of course if there is some weird romance thing going on, they could probably use that to their advantage.

Megatron sighs, looking to Soundwave "Tell Laserbeak to go back and pick up more evidence, as much as I hate to say that."

The larger bot sneers, loathing the idea of seeing more.

But Soundwave and Laserbeak do as told.

The minicon avoids the area he first saw you, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker, making an effort to thoroughly explore the other areas, making note that Prowl and Jazz seemingly take guard duty at night.

By the next day you and those twins seem to have went back inside the base, where Laserbeak couldn't reach.

"Sir, we might need to send someone to sneak inside their base."

Megatron glances at Soundwave, who doesn't look away from the screen. They both know getting inside that base will be dangerous, especially with how protective those bots are when you're involved.

"Let's hold off on that, since they seem to enjoy fragging outdoors, I'm certain we will get something else."

Soundwave nods, and continues watching as nothing interesting shows up on camera.

Starscream groans, rolling his optics not believing this is what they are up to anymore, just waiting to see some human all bare taking a spike much too big for them.

How patheic!

He could easily break your valve in, much better than those autobots!.....wait...NO! He shakes his helm, getting rid of any thoughts of you he's having.

Grumbling himself about your stupid attractiveness, you're just some stupid fleshy that's probably so soft compared to him, and no doubt your valve would struggle to take him.

But he keeps up a disgusted act, not wanting anyone to know what he's thinking.

However Thundercracker is silent, optics not leaving the screen, watching whatever Laserbeak catches on camera.

His expression looks bored, but he's freaking out inside.

He can't believe a human could actually handle interfacing with a Cybertronian, and you took two like a champ! You look so cute, pretty valve stretched so wide just to take Sunstreaker.

Greedy little thing.

He wants you, he wants to know what it's like, wants to leave here and live somewhere peacefully with you in some far off woods.

He's only here out of fear.

But he can't believe he's letting himself fall for a human he's barely met, but he can't stop his thoughts from trailing off to you, picturing you crying out begging him for more.

He wonders how your valve tastes, and if you'd like he bury his glossa in your heat.

Thundercracker is broken from his thoughts by Starscream screeching.

"Have they no shame!?"

Several optics look back at the screen, only to see you with Hot Rod.

The flashy bot clearly rushing off with you, giggling as you two go through the trees to get a peaceful spot away from base.

Faintly through Laserbeak's mic they can hear you.

"Oh, you don't know how much I missed you, little light!"

You giggle, finding all his kisses to be tickling you.

"I missed you too, Roddy. I hope your missions haven't been to exhausting." You kiss him in turn, smiling when he lets out a dopey chuckle.

"Nothing I can't manage, I just wanted to get back to you safe and sound."

"Something tells me that's not the only reason." You tease him, your poor lover gives you a pleading expression.

"I got all my work done? Missions were a success since the decepticons have been quiet, oh! And I got my reports done!"

He's shaking, nearly vibrating in place waiting for something.

But you let out a dramatic sigh, playfully shaking your head.

"I suppose since you've been such a good boy then."

You kick your pants off, tossing them to the side, before plopping yourself down on his servo, spreading your legs wide for him.

"A good boy deserves a reward, right?"

Hot Rod drools, muttering 'thank you's over and over again as he buries his glossa into your greedy hole.

Moaning with you, unable to help himself when you taste so good!

The decepticons all look at each other, then to Megatron, awaiting his orders but even he is baffled.

Just how many bots do you have after you? How many do you already have under your thumb? In the fights where he has gotten close to you, you reek of Optimus far too strongly.

So you're with him too.

Do you have the entire autobot base at your beck and call?

"Megatron, what are your orders."

Soundwave's voice shakes him if his thoughts.

"If we can get ahold of that human, we might have our answers, however I'm not even sure we can with how frag addicted those filthy autobots are."

"Seems the human is never alone either, which would make that even harder."

Just what have they gotten themselves into?

#smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#transformers smut #transformers x reader smut #transformers x human smut #transformers x reader #transformers autobots x reader #robot x human #robot x human smut #transformers Sunstreaker x reader #transformers sideswipe x reader #transformers hot rod x reader #valveplug #tw.dubcon #tagging it just to be safe #mdni #18+only

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rabotimagines · 2 months ago

Text

"First ILY" GN BOT Reader x Optimus, Jazz, Soundwave, Starscream

Summary: Who says "I love you" first in your relationship?

G1 Characters: Optimus, Jazz, Soundwave, Starscream

Genre/Theme: Romantic

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: N/A

Optimus absolutely says it first. You mean so much to him, and his frame is so full to bursting with affection for you that he can't help himself. It would happen during a quiet moment between you two. Whether, it's when you bring him a cube of energon when he's overworking himself in his office and hasn't refueled yet. Or when you're in his habsuite on his berth laying against one another and softly talking.

The warmth swells in his chassis, and his spark throbs in response. Optimus closes the distance between the two of you and presses his helm gently against your own. His em field promptly tangles together with your own, and he offlines his optics, simply enjoying the encompassing feeling of you. "I love you." Optimus murmurs and enjoys the emotional flux in your field it causes.

If you say it back to him, Optimus chuckles and pulls you closer against his own frame. His em field warming somehow further against your own. If you don't say it back, he simply pulls back to online his optics with a smile that makes his optics crinkle. "Please don't forget that." He's not offended by any means. Optimus had said it for his sake after all.

Jazz, surprisingly, will not say it first. Don't get it twisted. Jazz does care about you- he cares about you a lot. He's never been this serious with another mech or femme before in his function. And Jazz is affectionate with you physically and verbally he just won't say... it. So it's completely up to you to break that particular boundary in your relationship.

So when those words come out of you directed at him- Jazz has to stop whatever he was doing to focus completely right on you. Oh- oh. Affection blooms across his chassis, and it's so strong, Jazz can feel his fuel tank bubble a touch over the heat of it. Jazz is closing whatever distance between you two in nano-klicks. Doesn't matter if he's across the room or if there's obstacles. Jazz is right in front of you almost immediately. And he grabs both sides of your face before yanking you into a kiss.

Once he breaks the kiss, Jazz grins, a laugh coming out of him. Before he rests his helm against your own, letting your optics meet his visor. "I love you too" Jazz finally lets himself tell you that. His servos are still cupping the sides of your faceplate, and his digits softly brush along your kibble. After that, Jazz is letting you know he loves you often, and he's not shy about it neither.

Soundwave says it first. It'll be one of the days he comes back from a mission utterly exhausted. And instead of his own habsuite, he detours to yours and lets himself in. Which is how he winds up on his back with his helm in your lap. You've got a datapad in one of your servos, and the other is absentmindedly tracing his kibble from his helm to his glass. Soundwave can feel your em field gently pressing against his own frame alongside your wandering digits.

And Soundwave can feel his own spark pulsing in time with when your field reaches out to trace along him. Your expression relaxed and unbothered as you stared at your datapad. And Soundwave realizes then and there that he does love you. "Love you..." He doesn't preamble he simply states it. And your optics widen, and your attention turns down towards him.

If you repeat it back to him, Soundwave can't stop his visor from brightening. Soundwave grunts, and one of his servos finds your own, and he intertwines his digits with your own. Before he holds your cupped servo against his glass. So it's resting right above his pulsing spark. If you don't say it back to him, Soundwaves genuinely worried he'd miscalculated in his tired state. Though, in all honesty, all you need to do is either keep petting his frame and or lean down to kiss him on the temple or mask. And his worry flattens back out just like that.

Starscream won't say it first, and there's no chance in pit he will ever say it first. In fact, when you end up saying it first, Starscream freezes and has to take a klick to process it. And something heavy settles under his canopy and directly under his throat. And Starscream feels like he's being choked by the saccharine sensation that's suddenly breached his armor.

And you're staring right at him, waiting for his move. So Starscream does what he always does when he's outmatched and outgunned.

Starscream runs.

It's a cycle and a half before you see him again- well before he shows up again. He didn't even greet you. He simply wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his chassis up against your back. And he speaks.

"Say it again." You can try to play dumb or not play along, but Starscream just repeats himself.

"Say it again." You can feel the heat tether in his tone, but he doesn't get louder than before. So you do. You tell him you love him again. Starscream's em field curls over your own frame. The flush of it seeps against the dips of your plating. You can feel Starscream's engines purring softly against your back. And you know it's as close to an apology you'd be getting from him.

#x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #jazz x reader #starscream x reader #soundwave x reader #rabot writes #red and blue combooooo baby #transformers x reader #transformers x cybertronian reader #transformers x y/n

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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

Text

hurt people hurt people (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, ANGST, throwing up, gore, jealousy schemes, Roman calling people uncouth mongoloids which is literally the same as in the book lol, and major risk of emotional damage (I warned you)

summary: this night would turn out to be the worst of your life-- of our lives. I hope you don't mind that I'm talking to you directly this time?

word count: 11,273

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: this is absolutely insane to me... I cannot believe I've FINISHED WRITING A BOOK?? thank you all SO so so much for being a part of this wild ride and for supporting my work, I couldn't have gotten here without all the love and all the comments, I couldn't have gotten this far without you all; therefore, I'm so so excited to give you the ultimate gift-- the last chapter of seven minutes in heaven!! ENJOY!!<333

... Alright.

We've gotten this far. It's Friday, and I need to give Roman an answer, so I'll be quick; after all the shit that has gone down these past months, after everything I've brought you along with me for, I only have one question for you...

Have you understood it yet?

Have you really?

I could sit on Jasmine's front porch for hours and tell you the story of Roman Godfrey over and over, but nothing would ever change. You'd still love him, you'd still ache for him, just as I've done since the moment I saw him. We're in the same boat, after all-- you and I.

Oh, and speaking of Jasmine; her party was the best I had attended in years. Catch the irony? The bass from the music inside thudded through the floor of the porch, vibrating up through my shoes, through my bones, syncing with the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I was therefore glad to be outside now; the ceilings had felt too low, the walls too close, and the crowd swelled like a living, breathing thing-- loud, erratic, suffocating. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

But out on the porch, right now, I could. Even when I thought about the fact that one week had passed, that I was supposed to have an answer for Roman regarding whether we could get together again or not, I could at least breathe.

I let out a sharp laugh for no one but myself, clutching the bottle of rosé I had managed to steal from my parents' cupboard. It was almost empty now, which was a first for me; I wasn't the biggest drinker, initially. Or was I? I couldn't make up my mind.

Being drunk, alone, and vulnerable at a party wasn't the smartest thing I could be doing, I know. As if she would magically appear, I swayed a little where I sat on the porch step glancing around for Letha-- I remember her smiling at me when we walked in together, but... wait, had she actually? Maybe she hadn't? Maybe that was someone else? Or maybe I just wanted her to smile, so I made it up? You'd believe me, wouldn't you? You'd have no choice but to.

You have no choice but to see what's gonna unfold tonight through my eyes, actually. And maybe I'm finally talking directly to you because I can't deal with it all alone?

... Don't click away just yet, please.

Stay, just a little longer.

Yes, you.

I made sure to drink the last few drops left of my rosé before saying bye to the quietness of Jasmine's front porch. My steps were heavy as I dragged my feet back into the house, yet the soundwave that hit me when I opened the door nearly knocked me to the ground nonetheless-- it didn't take long before my head started pounding to the beat of the music again.

All I knew, was that I needed to look busy. I needed to not stay too long in one place, just in case I'd run into people I didn't want to run into; I was still a bit scarred from my hellish prom-night, where I hadn't managed to get away from Daniel when he dragged me down the hall. However, he wasn't here tonight, so my biggest evasions were Letha and Roman. Sometimes, you just have to be drunk and miserable in peace, no?

Instinctively, I toyed with the vial of Roman's blood around my neck for comfort, letting the chain slip through my fingers; I had missed the weight of it. Missed the feeling of having him so close to my heart. I twisted it in the light-- red, gleaming, sharp. It had felt right to wear it tonight, and I thought it would serve as a comfort (and it did), but at the end of it all, I was still at a party I didn't want to be at.

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything moved too fast, or maybe too slow?-- I couldn't tell. I wasn't even sure of anything anymore, except that this place smelled like beer and sweat and smoke, and I put away my rosé on a nearby table and switched it with an unopened cider a bit further away. As long as no one caught me stealing, I could get away with it, right? Now that I was at it, I also grabbed the jacket closest to me hanging on the rack in the hallway, wrapping it around me despite it not being mine-- the weight of it nearly made it stumble, yet I persisted.

The cider was cold in my hand, and shockingly so. Nonetheless, I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket as I choked back a drunk hiccup-- it was only when a couple stumbled past me, bumping into me rather harshly, that I realized I had to get away from the main event of the party, which was downstairs.

I felt so dead. So, so dead. My body was simply dead weight-- dead, dead, dead. Broken. I couldn't handle this feeling, so I climbed the stairs, clutching the banister like it was the only thing anchoring me to this earth. My legs felt heavy, but my brain felt heavier, and every step echoed through my skull. Thud. Thud. Thud. I stopped halfway up because-- I don't know? I forgot why I was going up in the first place. There was an empty spot at the top of the stairs, a place where the purple lights didn't reach, where the music was muffled, where I could pretend for a second that I wasn't completely falling apart. So I slumped down, pulling the jacket tighter around me as if it could protect me from the cold that had nothing to do with the air.

And that's when I felt it-- the pack of cigarettes in the pocket.

Not mine.

Roman's.

It took me a good few seconds before I realized I had picked his jacket out of all the people that had put them away on the rack, and I could only groan. Suppressing another hiccup, my fingers brushed against the familiar cardboard, the worn edges, and the faint scent of cinnamon that clung to the paper. With some further rummaging in the pockets, I found his blood-red lighter, yet the back of it felt rougher than before; I had held it out for him several times, you see.

I flipped it, holding my breath--

Only to realize that Roman had carved our initials into the back of it.

After all the times he had made fun of me for doing that exact thing to a tree a while back, I could only huff at the irony as some people stepped over my body to get up the stairs. The thumping of my head only worsened, because honestly? In this state? It felt like an invitation. Roman could've literally carved I-know-you-stole-my-jacket-so-take-a-smoke-you-pretty-little-fucker, and it would've been the same thing. Or did the carvings make it more private? Should I maybe not be touching this at all?

... Fuck it.

I took one out, hands trembling like a damn idiot, and lit it. The flame flickered, tiny and fragile, and I stared at it like I was seeing fire for the first time.

Then, I inhaled--

And holy fucking shit, you wouldn't believe how awful it was. Sharp and spicy and bitter, and it clawed at my throat like it wanted to kill me. Maybe that's what Roman secretly wanted? To kill me with these fucking cigarettes? I coughed, choking on the smoke, but I didn't stop. I took another drag, then another, until my head was spinning and my chest felt tight, and I didn't care. I wanted to feel it-- the pain of it all. I wanted it to be physical, wanted it to kill me. I wanted it to set my lungs ablaze, and I wanted it to burn me up from the inside with slow and tortuous flames.

Pained, I sat there, legs pulled up against my chest, with the cigarette between my fingers like it belonged there, and I let the smoke sting my eyes, sting my lungs. Over and over, I told myself it was just the smoke that made me want to cry... nothing else.

And then, of course, of fucking course, I saw him.

Appearing into the hallway with a careless laugh, I watched Roman through the banister of the stairs, standing there like some kind of vision, like the universe just wanted to punish me for giving in to a sinful cigarette. He hadn't seen me-- not yet. But I couldn't take my eyes off him, couldn't stop the way my heart leapt and sank all at once. He looked beautiful. Terrible. The kind of beauty that ruins you. Dark hair, unruly shirt, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't read from across the room; and then I saw who he was with.

Jessica was there, breathlessly clinging to Roman. My Roman. It was clear that she revelled in the arm he had lazily draped over her shoulders, and she giggled as her hand clutched at his shirt like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, like she was blessed to be getting even a sliver of his attention.

But Roman wasn't looking at her, not really.

No-- he was scanning the room like he was waiting for something, someone.

And when his eyes found mine, everything stilled. The music, the voices, the haze of smoke and bodies; all of it faded when our eyes locked.

I froze on the stairs, the cigarette hanging between my fingers-- I inhaled, slow and deep, trying not to fall apart, and exhaled like it could push him out of my system as I refused to look away.

But Roman didn't move. Not yet.

It was subtle-- the way his mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. For a second, I thought he was proud to see me smoking, finally, until the glint in his eyes turned sharp, predatory. He glanced at Jessica like he had forgotten she was there, and in that split second, I knew.

And you know what's gonna happen now, too, don't you?

Roman shifted, turning toward her, and his hand came up-- fingertips tracing her jaw, slow, almost lazy, just like he used to touch me. Jessica leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed, hungry for him, oblivious to who, what, she was keening against.

And then he kissed her, right there, right in front of me.

Deeply. Lovingly.

Roman's plush lips moved against hers, his hand tangled in her hair, and the sight of it was absolutely brutal-- it was the kind of kiss meant to calm someone, to soothe them, to show them you love them, and it was exactly how he used to kiss me. The sight of it nearly made me throw myself down the stairs, my body aching with the pain and betrayal of it all, but the kiss wasn't about her; it would never be about her.

Because the whole time, Roman's eyes stayed locked on me.

I couldn't look away, not when he commanded my attention in this way. He kissed her like he was punishing me, like this was the type of psychological warfare-discipline I needed to properly understand that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. And all I could do was sit there like the pathetic fucking loser I was, the cigarette burning down to the filter, smoke stinging my eyes, my throat, my heart. I felt myself grab at the vial of his blood tucked away under my shirt; I couldn't look away, but I couldn't stand to watch it, because I wasn't just watching him destroy me-- I was letting him.

When Roman finally pulled back (after a millennia passed, surely), Jessica looked dazed, like she'd just realized she was the luckiest girl in the world, her lips swollen and red. But Roman didn't even glance at her-- his thumb brushed his own bottom lip, that wicked smirk carved into his face, and he stared at me like he knew exactly what he had done.

He wanted me broken-- broken enough to come running right back.

But I wasn't going to break this quickly.

It took everything that I had in me to get up, yet I somehow managed. With a shaky breath, and with my heart actively falling apart, I slid up along the wall for support, hoping I wouldn't fall right down the stairs-- I wasn't exactly making it easier for myself, because I was simultaneously throwing away my used cigarette and lighting a new one.

Wrapping myself further up in Roman's jacket, I let the cigarette hang loosely from my lip as I hoisted my arm up to raise my middle finger at him.

Roman chuckled, clearly having expected it, before responding with draping his arms around Jessica, cupping her face as she continued talking up at him, oblivious that he was having a stare-off with me. Roman dragged his fingers through her golden locks like he loved her above anyone else in the world, urging me to come down and fight for his attention, for him, for us--

But God, he was insufferable. I could see it all the way from here; he was mouthing come on.

Come here.

I know you want to.

... And I really wanted to, believe me.

But instead, I snorted, rolled my eyes, and shook my head-- and this turned out to be one of the worst ideas of the night. Shaking my head in this state, full of nicotine and rosé, was certainly not one of my brightest moments. With quick steps, I turned around on my heel and marched up the stairs, away from Roman and his fucked up antics as the back of my throat filled with acid. I couldn't throw up on the stairs, now, could I?

The first bathroom I found ended up being occupied, hence why I stormed into the kitchen on the second floor-- how massive was this house? I had never seen a kitchen on any floor but the first. In retaliation of what Jasmine had done to me earlier this year, I stumped my new cigarette on the wall and dragged it along the tapestry, wasting it. My thoughts were racing with how infuriating Jasmine's stupid house was, and how pissed she'd be when she saw how I had trashed her wall, but I pushed my way to the sink, hunching over it just in case I was about to barf up my whole left lung.

The kitchen was loud, hot, too hot, and filled with the thump of the party music bleeding in from the living room. It pounded through the walls, muffled the laughter around me, and people shouting over the music blended into a hum that made my temples ache-- I was two seconds away from bursting into tears.

Thankfully, my only source of comfort appeared behind me with a soothing hand on my back, reaching for my hair as I leaned over the sink; Letha. Her touch gave me a major deja vu from the night Roman and I first kissed, when she had held my hair back when I felt sick.

Roman and I-- kissing.

Roman... kissing.

Roman kissing Jessica.

I let myself gag at the memory as tears welled in my eyes. "There, there," Letha cooed, bending down to catch the look on my face. I wondered whether she smelled the cigarettes on me, or whether she had noticed the fact that I was wearing Roman's jacket. "What's got you like this, hm? You just disappeared, and now..." She leaned in, sniffing me. "Girl, you smell like a bombed whorehouse! Who have you been hanging around? Jack?"

The memory of Jack Edwards almost made me laugh-- I caught myself, fighting back the acid in my throat as I made sure the vial of Roman's blood was safely tucked beneath my shirt and out of Letha's sight. "I drank the whole bottle of rosé," I confessed.

"What? You had barely touched it the last time I saw you, how on earth did you manage?" Letha's laugh was teasing, her voice laced with that soft concern she always wore like perfume. Heavy. Suffocating. I wondered whether this was how it felt like to live in East Germany after the Second World War-- watched.

"I don't know," I muttered, placing my hand over the vial again. If I really focused, I could imagine that it was beating, like Roman's caged blood was still pumping to his heart. "I don't feel good."

Letha hummed, patting my back over and over. "You can take it just a little more, though, right...? I told Jack you felt bad about what happened on the bleachers the other day, and he still wants to have a chat with you!--"

"No!" I sucked in a sharp breath, gagging on the vomit threatening its way up my throat. Grabbing the counter to steady myself, I rocked back and forth to keep myself grounded.

Yet Letha pressed on as she pushed people away from the sink; this party was way too damn crowded. "But Jack could be the perfect distraction for you!" she insisted. "He's cute, he's kind, he's nothing like Roman, he's!--"

"I said no!" Jack hadn't told Letha that Roman and I had fucked; that was all that mattered to me. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to not throw up when I straightened up, taking deep breaths as I turned to her. "You're really fucking insistent, do you know that?"

Letha raised an eyebrow, setting her drink down with a soft clink. "Christ, what's wrong now?"

I didn't answer right away, hoping my offence would sift through my fingers. The question hung heavy and loaded in the air, too simple, too dismissive. The noise of the party pressed in from all sides, but here, with her, it felt like we were in a vacuum, the tension building by the second, and just for a moment, I had the oddest thought-- Letha would've been a good KGB agent. Her interrogation techniques could be polished, sure, but somewhere in that blonde girl was an intense, manipulative Russian.

... God, I was way too drunk.

With a sigh, I leaned back over the sink, trying to keep myself steady. "Guess I'm just tired, Letha--"

"Tired from what, smoking?" Letha tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I can smell it on you, y'know? You smell like a Godfrey. Is this about Roman again?"

Something about her tone set my teeth on edge. I didn't answer, but my silence said enough; I was afraid I'd start barking if I opened my mouth.

"Are we really going back to this?" Letha huffed, softly, like she was doing me a favour, like she hadn't been the one dragging knives across my heart for weeks. "How many times do I have to tell you that you need to start taking active steps to get over him? It's like you never listen! My words go in one ear and out the other!"

I felt the first sparks of anger flare in my chest, hot and sudden; "You've told me a lot of things,"

"What's that supposed to mean?!--"

"It means," I hissed, gripping the counter so hard my knuckles were going white. "That I don't think you've ever really been honest with me. Not about him, not about anything."

Letha let out an offended laugh before her smile vanished-- the look on my face was unmistakeable, and it set her off. "I've always been honest with you, unlike what you have been with me!"

"Bullshit. Do you really not get it, or are you just pretending as always?"

Her brows knit together; "Pretending?"

"Yeah, pretending. Like how you pretended to support me, to be my friend, to have my back? I've let you do this for weeks!" My chest tightened, each word tumbling out sharper than the last. "God, Letha, you reacted like I murdered someone when I told you about Roman and I! I was honest with you, I fessed up, and you basically spat in my face!"

Every inch of Letha seemed to tighten. "You're drunk," she said through gritted teeth. "Calm down, please, before you throw up all over yourself!--"

"Oh, fuck you,"

"... What?!"

I had to suppress a grin; I had waited too long to say that.

Letha's mouth opened slightly, stunned. She glanced around the party, making sure no one was catching the verbal beating she was taking-- I knew she'd care if someone noticed. She'd care a lot. "You know why I reacted the way I did!" she hissed, lowering her voice as she got closer to my face. "He's been getting with my friends for ages, and you were getting yourself into something dangerous!--"

"No!" I cut her off, voice rising along with my nausea. "No, I told you about it because I trusted you! I didn't lie, I came clean to you, and fucking hell, Jesus treated Judas better than you treated me!--"

My yelling, along with the mix of rosé and cigarettes, finally pushed my body over the edge. Gagging, I threw myself over the sink to finally throw up; "O-Oh, fuck!--" The concoction that left me was beyond anything I had ever secreted. All my pain, all my anger, balled up into whatever the fuck it was that left my mouth.

Immediately, Letha's hands flew to my hair, holding it back as I threw up in Jasmine's sink. Despite our fight, despite the verbal abuse, she was still making sure I was alright-- it made my heart ache. Everything about this night was tearing at my heart, actually; images of Roman kissing Jessica flashed before my eyes as my body burned. Was I maybe about to have a heart attack? I was surely susceptible of one.

As I cried into the sink, sobbing with pain, Letha traced soothing patterns into my back, hushing me gently. "Shh... You'll be alright," she tried. "I know it feels like your world is ending, but you'll be alright. Someday, you won't even remember this."

My chest felt like it was caving in on itself. How could I ever forget any of this? How could I ever forget Roman?

"I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend," Letha continued, carefully stroking through my hair. "I hope you can forgive me... and I hope that we can someday forgive each other. Because at the end of all of this, through it all, all I ever wanted was for us to be friends again, and... for me to have someone in my court if everything goes down." Her words were small, fragile; "I just wanted my friend back."

I garnered the strength to look back at Letha, heart pounding, and before I could think it through, my drunken confession came tumbling out; "I slept with him,"

Letha's eyes rounded out as she slowly let go of my hair. "What?" she breathed.

"Yeah," My words were quiet as I pulled my shirt down to expose the hickey on the peak of my shoulder. "On the library floor, a week ago." I was sure she could spot the outline of the vial around my neck as I adjusted the jacket draped around me-- I could see in Letha's eyes that everything in her mind was actively falling apart.

And therefore, I delivered the final blow; "Can you forgive me now? Truly, Letha?"

The silence between us that followed was crushing, all-taking. It felt like I had been sucked into a plastic bag, with the air being drained with me stuck inside of it. Letha's lips parted, ready to speak, yet I saw that she couldn't find the right words to say.

But what followed would flip the narrative completely.

"Yeah... I can,"

My face ticked, and I felt my eye twitch as my words left me with my next breath; "What?" The music pounded through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless. Voices swelled, laughter spiked, but here, in the dim glow of the kitchen, everything felt suffocatingly small. My stomach was still twisting, nausea rolling in waves as I clutched the counter-- what was happening?

Letha's breath was unsteady, but when she spoke again, her voice was calm and unshaken. "I can forgive you," she repeated, like she was offering me the grandest admission of mercy.

I blinked at her, the words catching somewhere in my throat.

With a sigh, Letha brushed nonexistent dust off her dress before smoothing down her hair. "Because that's what friends do. We forgive, even when it hurts... And you're my best friend, so this time, I forgive you,"

Somewhere behind us, someone let out a shriek of laughter, bottles clinking in celebration. My head was spinning, my stomach churning from more than just the alcohol-- this felt wrong. Was this really happening?

Letha tilted her head slightly, watching me struggle. "I'm not going to pretend this doesn't hurt," she admitted, voice barely audible over the chaos outside the kitchen. "But I mean it. I just want you to be okay, and it's okay to... slip up, I guess. You're human, unlike a big part of him." She took a step back, giving me space-- she was the gracious one here, as always. "Because that's what friends do, right?" Her lips curved, not quite a smile. "We forgive. We put each other first."

The weight of her words settled in my chest in the most unpleasant way possible. "I'm supposed to tell him whether I want to give us another chance," I confessed. "Like... tonight. Right now."

Letha's hand found my back again, fingers light. I was scared she'd get mad, that she'd start cussing me out, but alas... nothing. "Okay, I see," she said, softer now. "I know you love him, but love doesn't change what he is. It doesn't change what he could do to you. Keep that in mind when you make your decision."

I swallowed hard, nausea curling tight inside me. Did I know? Did I really? My grip tightened around the counter; was I getting swayed?

Letha shook her head, her brows knitting together, like she hated to be the one saying this; "You don't have to prove anything. Not to him, not to me. You just... have to do what's right," She sighed, giving me one last careful look. "And I hope you know that I'll be here for you, no matter what."

... Fuck.

Roman's pack of cigarettes felt heavy in my pocket again, and I hated it. Hated the blood-red lighter in the other, next to the cold cider. Hated the way he had carved our initials into it like some twisted promise. But fate had a tight, deadly grip around me that I couldn't get out of-- I somehow managed to wry myself away from Letha and the kitchen with a red solo cup filled with water, downing it as I made my way down the stairs.

It was time to give Roman an answer-- the answer I didn't want to give him, the one I never thought I'd give him.

I shoved my way down through the crowd with my heart thumping in my chest. Was I gonna find Roman with Jessica? This was giving me an intense case of deja vu from all the times I had actually seen him with other girls, before we ever started dating. Was I gonna catch him making out with Jessica somewhere, even after he had sent me that excruciatingly long voice mail where he could only profess his love for me over and over?

But that wasn't love.

Him kissing Jessica in front of me like that-- that couldn't be love.

Letha had been right all along, hadn't she?

I pushed through the people dancing in the living room downstairs, trying to ignore the laughter and the small talk that surrounded me. It felt like a different world, one that had nothing to do with me right now. I was desperate for a moment of clarity, and the only person who could give me that was Roman... yet I didn't dare to find him. I didn't want to see him with Jessica. I couldn't bare the sight of it.

I shoved open the back door to the yard, and cold night air hit me like a slap. I welcomed it. The darkness out there was different from the party lights. It was real. Still. Empty.

I wasn't alone for long; I heard footsteps behind me, and the soft, deliberate crunching against the floor of the porch quickly become unmistakeable. The door closed shut as I leaned against the wood structure leading to the garden-- I knew who this was. Letting out a sigh, I reached for the cider in my pocket, cracking it open with a hiss despite knowing I shouldn't have any more drinks tonight.

The first sip was sharp, bitter, but it cut through the lump in my throat I got from knowing Roman was here with me, alone. I let my eyes follow him when he walked into sight, leaning against the wooden frame opposite me with that Godfrey nonchalance I was used to from him. His shirt had been tucked back in, his hair had been combed back into place-- something told me he had prepared to corner me since he watched me leave with his jacket.

Roman's eyes were so mesmerizing, so green. It was the most beautiful shade of green. It was such a shame to see them glossed over by that searching look in them, the exact look that gave away his hidden anxiety. Finally, he spoke, nodding to my drink with his usual charm; "I don't think you should be having more of those,"

It only made me clutch the cider harder, steading my footing on the porch so that I wouldn't tumble into the grass to my side. "Fuck off,"

"Oh, yeah? You wanna go there?"

"Yeah," After seeing him kissing Jessica like that? Sure.

Roman rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw to stop himself from arguing back right away. He looked so strict like this-- it was painfully arousing. He plucked the bottle from my grasp with ease, lifting it to his lips as if daring me to stop him; his smirk widened when I didn't.

Forfeiting my cider allowed me to dip my hand back into my pocket and fish out the lighter and the cigarettes. Roman's eyes widened as he watched me put two cigarettes in my mouth, about to light them both, before he snatched one of them from between my lips; "Careful, there," he said, throwing it away somewhere. "Don't get too excited. You'll go into nicotine shock."

"Don't care," I lit the one I had left, but not without glaring at him properly. "I already threw up tonight."

"You did?"

"Yeah,"

"Oh, you fragile thing," he cooed, amused. "You're going to ruin yourself like this."

I bet that some part of him would've loved to see that. I snorted; "Don't care,"

Roman's brows drew together when he realized I was completely serious, when he saw that my empty look wasn't wavering. "Yeah... I got that," He mumbled, shaking his head. "Jeez, you're dramatic tonight."

I let the silence stretch as I simply glared at him; if he thought this was me at my most dramatic, then he didn't know me at all.

Roman watched me, waiting for me to argue, to snap at him, to give him something to work with. When I didn't, his smirk faltered and his voice softened; "What is this, then, hm? You trying to prove a point?"

I inhaled deeply. "Nah, that's your way of doing this," The smoke burned, stung my throat, but I needed it, needed something to hold onto as my pulse pounded against my ribs; it made my pain about his kiss with Jessica physical. I needed it to be, so my brain wouldn't fry itself.

Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I get it, alright? You're mad about Jessica. You wanna play hard to get, fine. But let's cut the bullshit, cause you're not going anywhere," He said it like it was a fact, like it was already decided-- "Not really."

He was so sure of it.

So sure of us.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't watch Roman fall apart all over again when he would realize what I had chosen, not when I was still so irrevocably angry with him. My gaze fell to the floor as I remained silent, waiting for it to dawn on him.

Roman's smirk wavered in the cold night air. He searched my face, waiting for the usual pattern-- for me to scoff, roll my eyes, shove him and say something biting but not final.

... I did none of those things.

His fingers twitched with nervous anticipation. "You're mad," he said, slower this time. "Say something. Humour me, yeah? Pretend that you actually love me, just for a second."

"Fuck you,"

"Baby, come on—"

"Don't say I don't love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here after you pulled that crap with Jessica just now! If I didn't love you, I would be inside running around to find Jack,"

Roman's green eyes widened— was it the shock of the threat, or the fact that he had made that threat a reality he had to fear? The party seemed so far away, and our life together felt even further away than that. "I'm sorry about Jessica," he breathed. "You know it's nothing personal, you know I can't stand her guts. I just thought you'd... I thought it would be good to show you what life's gonna be like if we don't end up together."

I almost chuckled-- did he really think that was a good plan? Did he really think that'd work? My eyes darted to the cigarette between my fingers while I wondered whether or not to torture myself with another drag. "You wanted to show me that you'll go back to sleeping with the cheerleaders while I become a chain-smoker?" I snarked. "Sounds like a wet dream of yours."

"That's not what I meant!—"

"What did you mean, then?!"

"I don't!— I don't want to keep talking about this!" Roman flailed his arms, frustrated; "It's not relevant, because we're not going to be apart, and because we're going to my place later and!-- and you're going to fall asleep next to me again, and your hair will be all over my pillow in the morning, and we're going to be okay!"

Oh, how I wanted us to be.

But the way he described it made me realize he might've not fully developed his consequential thinking. Did he really think that was a realistic end of this night after what he had done?

I felt tongue-tied by my shock, frozen like an icicle to Jasmine's stupid porch. What he had just described, was all I wanted. I wanted to go to Roman's place later, wanted to feel his arm around me as he pulled me closer in his slumber, and I wanted to lie around in bed while fighting sleep to get a few more minutes with him. Swallowing hard, I did my best to waft away the memories flashing before me, yet I soon realized it was an impossible task.

Roman's eyes rounded out with his next breath, his heart visibly breaking--

"Cause... you're choosing us, right?"

My mouth repeatedly opened and closed, stuck. How could I, after everything?

Meanwhile Roman's gaze flickered over my mine, searching for some confirmation, some reassurance that I was just being difficult, that I was still his-- it was a heartbreaking sight. It only made me grip the cigarette tighter, feeling the heat against my fingers. It was dying out, just as I was, just as we were.

Something cracked in Roman's expression. "You're serious," he breathed.

It broke me to realize that I was.

This had to end.

It had to.

Roman's face hardened as he took a step closer. The air between us thickened, turning heavy with something more than just tension-- something sharp, something raw. "You're seriously doing this?" he muttered, the disbelief in his tone prevailing. "After everything? After all of this time, you just-- we're done? Like that?"

My throat was too tight, and all the words got trapped inside. In a way, it felt like I was choking on everything said and unsaid.

Roman's hands were clenched, and the tension in his shoulders made him seem even taller, more imposing. A part of me was scared he'd pounce, that he'd be overcome by whatever upir instincts he had beneath his pretty appearance-- I didn't want to think about it. I was afraid I'd scream and run away if I did. To distract myself, I put my cigarette out on the ledge nearby; I didn't care about the state of Jasmine's house.

I wasn't sure whether my quiet motions read as nonchalance, but it seemed to shove Roman closer to the edge. "You're pushing me away, even after all my fucking reassurance? Even after your voicemail? I gave you everything, I showed you that I'm nothing to be scared of, and you're just... walking away like I'm nothing, over some kiss? Did you ever even love me?"

That question knocked the air out of me. "Some kiss?!"

"Yes!"

"Roman you've— you've proven yourself to be exactly who I feared you'd be all along!" I yelled. "Someone who hurts me!"

Desperate, Roman grabbed my arm, his grip tight, but not enough to hurt. His eyes searched mine, pleading-- "Come on," he begged, his voice shaking now. "I love you. I really fucking love you."

"No! Because you if truly did love me, you wouldn't be hurting me as a means to get back together with me! You're a child!" I snapped, finally giving in to my frustrations. Drunkenly trying to wry myself out of his grip, I felt my tears burn in my eyes, blurring my vision. "This has to end! You and I, it has to end! Letha's right, you will always want to fuck the cheerleaders, and you will always be a upir, and that will never change!--"

My breath stopped in my chest-- fuck.

Letha.

It was the first time I had verbally confirmed it, and I knew I had shot myself in the foot with it.

The name hung in the air like poison, and Roman looked like he'd been gutted by it.

He stared at me for a long, horrible moment, his eyes wide with disbelief. His grip loosened around my wrist; "You--" he started, his voice hoarse. "You're... serious? So that's it? You're throwing us away because of her? Because of the shit she's been feeding you to take revenge on me?!"

"It's not all because of her, Roman, but she's right! Letha is right that you'll always be dangerous, that you'll always have some underlying urges, and that you'll never be safe to be around!" My voice cracked as I said it; there it was, a cold, harsh truth I couldn't ignore anymore. "You said you'd never hurt me, but you're like a ticking fucking bomb in more aspects than I can count on my fingers!"

That was it; Roman snapped, his fist slamming into the wooden structure I was leaning against with a deafening crack, making it shake. "Bullshit!"

The boom of it made me flinch and squeak in terror, and instinctively, my hands shot out to push him away, shoving him with all the strength I could muster in my panicked state. "You're scaring me again!" I yelled, heaving for air. "Stop it! I beg you, just stop it!"

Stunned by his own outburst and its consequence, Roman allowed me to push him. He could've planted himself to his spot, could've resisted with no problem, but he took a step back for my comfort.

My heart was pounded against my ribs as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't have him barging at me like that, not when I was this hurt, scared, and drunk. A man that truly loved me wouldn't be doing this, right? My legs shook with the remnants of the heaviness of the conversation, and I heaved for air with terrified gasps as I decided to turn on my heel.

Immediately, Roman went into action-- "Wait, please!" His voice instinctively softened as he rummaged through his brain for the best course of action. "I'm sorry, okay?! I just don't want to lose you, I'm freaking out here!" He reached out for me, but it was too late.

I was already backing away, not looking back, not waiting for any more apologies— I knew I wouldn't believe them anymore.

Even the heaviness of Roman's jacket couldn't slow me down, not when I was this desperate to get away from my terrifying breakup-- the sound of music and chatter met me when I opened the door back to the house, but the pounding of my heart nearly drowned it all out.

Roman's voice followed me inside, each word an attempt to reel me back, but I wasn't turning around. I couldn't look at him; I couldn't do that to myself.

"Come on!" he yelled through the deafening noise. "Are we really doing this again?!"

I made my way through the living room, not looking for anything but an escape. The staircase loomed ahead, and without thinking, I shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time as my legs shook with adrenaline and fear. The air in the house felt suffocating now, the walls closing in as I reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hallway. This was not happening. This was not happening. I was too drunk for this-- were the walls actually moving? The more I looked at them, the more I had a feeling they were pulsing, inching closer to squeeze me to death.

Speaking of death-- Roman's footsteps grew closer, and his voice got louder; "Please, we can fix this! Just hear me out, please!—"

With my heart hammering in my chest, I glanced back to calculate how long I had until he caught up to me. Panicked, I grabbed at every room in the hallway, pushing past the people blocking my way as I desperately suppressed my tears from running down my cheeks.

This was not happening.

Roman dragged a hand through his hair, angry, desperate, as his long footsteps allowed him to chase me down with ease. "You're making a mistake!" he pleaded. "Let's talk it out, okay? Please, please, just listen, I love you, I'll calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise!--"

With a scared squeak, I finally managed to force a door open; thank fuck. But before I could even step fully into the room, Roman's leg shot forward, forcing the door back, and in an instant, I realized there was no way I could keep him out-- I stumbled backward, eyes wide and frantic as I turned away from him to start planning my escape.

And then, my breath caught.

Because what I saw inside the room, was Letha half-naked on the bed--

With Peter beneath her.

My body froze for a split second before a scream ripped itself from my throat; I shrieked, mortified as I stumbled backwards.

What...

... The fuck?!

Letha and Peter scrambled to untangle themselves, their eyes widening with panic as they tried to hide the obvious. Peter's shirt was half undone, and Letha's hair was a mess, both of them completely caught off guard. The sight of them in that moment, exposed and guilty, made my chest tighten in a way I couldn't describe; I knew exactly what I had just walked in on.

And Roman, in a blur of motion, rushed forward-- his arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me to his chest with surprising force. One hand covered my eyes, blocking my view of the chaos I had just walked in on to shield me. "What the fuck?!" he barked, kicking the door shut behind us. "What's this?!"

My mind was actively melting against Roman's chest. It didn't help the situation that I could smell his usual cologne better than ever— God, I'd miss that smell in the coming years, wouldn't I?

But Peter and Letha were still scrambling, wide-eyed, and before they could say anything, Roman continued; "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

Was this maybe just a drunk hallucination of sorts? Was this really happening? Letha and Peter? I should've listened to Jack earlier this week-- I should've listened to myself, because I had suspected something for a while, hadn't I?

Peter was the first one to talk, visibly panicking; "Ro, calm down!--"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! What the fuck are you doing with my cousin, man?!"

"Letha and I were just!--"

"Yeah, I see what you were just doing, you filthy piece of shit!"

"Dude, I'm sorry, I tried to tell you! Over and over, I swear, I tried to!--"

"Tell me what?! Is this not a one time thing? Is that what all your bullshit has been about?!" Roman yelled. "You calling me at prom and then not saying shit? All the times you've said you were busy when I knew you were just at home?" I could feel his chest raise with the air he forced inside his lungs-- a part of me was scared he'd faint from the anger. "You've been fucking my cousin?!"

"And you've fucked all the friends I've ever had!" Letha yelled back, protecting Peter while struggling to straighten her dress. Then she pointed to me, eyes drilling into Romans'; "I begged you not to touch her all those months ago too, but you didn't listen either!"

A sick laugh ripped from Roman's throat, and when he finally pulled his hand away from my face, I saw it; the pure, unfiltered rage in his expression. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" He stepped forward, eyes locking onto Letha. "You have been in her ear for weeks-- weeks!" He jabbed a finger toward me, his voice breaking slightly. "You've been telling her to stay away from me, telling her I'm dangerous, that I'll hurt her, while you've been making my life a living hell for the same thing that you have been doing too all along!"

"Roman, I!--"

"You sick fuck!" he barked, and the sheer volume of it made me flinch.

My head was spinning to the point where I thought I'd throw up again. It felt like a painful vibration in the front of my brain, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed my palm to my forehead. Without thinking, I put my free hand on Roman's arm, silently telling him to give me a second. "How long has this been going on?" I tried.

Peter and Letha anxiously glanced at one another, looking like they were both ready for the world to swallow them whole. "I don't--" Letha started.

"-- Don't know," Peter mumbled, looking guilty as ever. "Three months? Maybe four?-- Ouch!"

Letha smacked his arm, visibly upset that he had admitted that. "Stop talking! You've already stressed me out with wanting to tell Roman about us, you've done enough!"

"He deserves to know!" Peter tried. His brown eyes were big with disgrace; "I told you I didn't want to hide this, I told you he might understand!"

This kicked Roman into the next gear. "Understand...? Understand?!" The boom of his voice made Peter turn white, and Letha grabbed the sheets of the bed as though they would somehow shield her. "Dude, you're fucking my cousin! I could rip your fucking head off right now if I wanted to, and you best believe that I do!--"

In timely manner, I suddenly gagged, clasping a hand over my mouth; that thankfully shut everyone up for second. This was too much for one night.

"She's gonna throw up," Letha mumbled. In true Godfrey fashion, she used this as an opportunity to start slowly scooting toward the edge of the bed, hoping for an easy escape. "We need to get her back to the kitchen sink, and then we can all talk about this when she feels better in a few days!--"

My hand shot up into the air, holding my pointer up as I recovered.

It was a very clear sign of shut up.

Shut.

Up.

I straightened my back, feeling my eye twitch with newfound anger. "Is that what you meant earlier, Letha?" I asked, my voice frail and quiet, yet steady. "When you said you wanted to have someone in your court if everything went down? Have you... been setting everything up for this?"

The silence in the room was deafening.

Letha swallowed hard; "Look, I just--"

"Have you been breaking Roman and I up so that I'd be on your side?" I continued, cutting her off. "You knew that Peter was going to tell Roman about you two eventually. And when he'd find out, you... needed me to be your friend again so that you wouldn't be alone. Because this will... this will cost you everything, Letha."

I gagged again at the realization-- Roman's arm shot forward to catch me from tumbling. I held onto him, feeling the tears press on in my eyes. "You didn't want to be friends with me," I breathed, my words coming out as clear whispers. "You just needed someone that was isolated. I was vulnerable, I was scared, and I was perfect for your plan, wasn't I?"

Letha's lips parted, but no words came out. She was staring at me, the usual sharpness in her eyes replaced with something I had never seen before-- guilt. Real guilt. Not the performative, self-righteous kind she always weaponized, but something raw, something vulnerable.

I could barely stand to look at her.

"Oh my God," I whispered, turning away from the scene. "You planned all of this."

Letha shook her head, frantic. "No!-- I mean, not like that, I!--"

"You what? What now?!" Roman snapped, stepping closer to the bed. His presence was suffocating, his fury burning through the room like wildfire. "You're always talking about morals, and you're always acting like you're so much better than me, but look at what you've done! So tell me, Letha, where's your moral high ground now?"

Letha's breathing was ragged, frozen in the most mortifying moment of her life. She looked back at Peter like he could somehow save her, but he just rubbed his face, looking more done than ever. "This is so fucked..." he muttered under his breath, almost like he was annoyed.

Roman's attention snapped back to him in an instant. "Oh, you think this is fucked?" He let out a humorless laugh; "You didn't even have the fucking balls to tell me yourself! You knew that Letha's been making my life hell while you've been doing God knows what with her behind my back!"

"It's not that simple!" Peter barked, scooting forward on the bed to shield Letha and give her space to breathe. "We've-- I've been into Letha for longer than I can remember!"

Letha immediately protested, and her face turned more and more red by the second; "Stop talking, stop talking, I swear to God! I'm going to die of a heart attack at this rate!"

But her pleas didn't stop Peter. He was ready to fess up, just like he had been for a while, now. His shoulders slumped as his eyes locked with Roman's, getting ready to face his biggest secret. "Letha and I used to date, man. We used to be... together-together. She was my girlfriend for a while, but we broke up because we didn't want to hurt you, Ro, and because it was getting out of control. It was just too big of a secret to keep. But then you got together with her..." He nodded to me with a sigh. "And Letha said we were free to do whatever we pleased, and I gave in because..."

Peter turned to face Letha with a sweet shimmer in his eyes-- the type of look I recognized from all the times Roman had looked at me like that.

"Because I love her," Peter whispered.

I could only watch as Letha slowly dared to place her hand on top of his, and they exchanged a painfully sincere silent vow.

The cherry on top for this moment, was when I started loudly gagging-- not because of the sight of them all loved up, but because all the drama, the stress, the alcohol, and the new sensation of nicotine. Acid crawled up my throat as I buckled over, crouching down as I tried to keep my breaths deep and steady; my brain felt like it was shutting down, and probably because it was.

Roman immediately bent down, trying to get on my level, but I wafted him away. He wouldn't be able to comfort me no matter what he did, not after how I had seen him kiss Jessica to get back at me.

I couldn't believe that I hadn't seen the signs. I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed them being together when it had been right in front of me, all this time. Gathering strength, I spoke; "You're not really going to study philosophy, are you?"

Peter's head darted down to my crouched-over body. "What?"

"When I met you at the library," I breathed. "All that time ago, when you were reading tons of books about guilt...and you said it was because you were going to study philosophy. You've been lying to Roman and I, just like we've been lying to you. After all this fucking time... Fucking hell. We're, like, the shittiest group of people ever."

Roman, who had frozen to his spot in a mixture of disgust and shock, couldn't watch it any longer. His silence was worse than shouting. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, his nails dug into his palm, he had bit his teeth together so hard that I feared they might crack. The air in the room had changed; it was suffocating, thick with tension that pressed into my skin.

Peter dared to break it. "Roman--"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Enough."

Peter snapped his mouth shut, looking like he had just walked into traffic. Letha was frozen, her hand still resting on Peter's like she was drawing strength from him.

It didn't matter anymore— I wanted to get out. I needed to get out. Now.

"Rome," I mumbled, voice thin. "I need--"

His head darted to me immediately, and his eyes; God, his eyes. They weren't just angry anymore... they were desperate. He was coming undone too.

Letha seized the opportunity once more. "She needs air," she said quickly, standing up like she could actually be of help. "Let's just-- let's all go back down and talk about this later, okay?"

"Later?" Roman let out a sharp, breathless huff. "You don't get to decide that! Do you really think I'm ever talking to any of you uncouth mongoloids again?"

Letha huffed at the names. "But we should really figure out everything later, because you're about to lose your shit!"

Roman took a threatening step forward, and Peter immediately shifted off the bed to step in front of Letha. It was so instinctive that I nearly threw up all over again-- he truly loved her, didn't he? After all this time?

"You're protecting her, dude?" Roman snarled, nodding to his cousin. "After everything?"

Peter's expression twisted with something I couldn't quite place. "I don't expect you to get it,"

"Oh, I get it, alright," With a smooth, final move, Roman bent down to help me stand up straight.

I swayed in my shoes, my breath catching in my throat to stop myself from immediately barfing all over the carpet. "I need air," I breathed. "This night has been too much. Too many lies, and one too many upirs-- because I assume he knows?"

Briefly, I glanced over at Peter after spilling the secret, but he only looked more guilty the longer my stare cut through into him. Of course he knew that Roman was a upir. Of course.

Everything blurred together, spinning too fast, and the weight of my decision pressed down on me so hard that I thought I'd collapse. The room was suffocating, the walls were closing in again, and the heat was unbearable-- I just needed to leave, I needed air, I needed space.

So I pushed away from Roman, staggering toward the door. "I can't-- I need to go,"

Enough was enough.

My whole life had fallen apart, and I couldn't do anything to save it. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I wrapped myself further up in Roman's heavy jacket as the world around me kept on swaying. I couldn't go home like this. I didn't even know how to get home.

How was I supposed to carry on after everything that had happened tonight?

But life is a tricky thing-- it doesn't let you go until it's your time. So my legs kept carrying me forward, down the driveway, past the parked cars, because I needed to go on. The streetlights above flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement; I barely registered where I was going, only that I needed to move. Somehow, my feet worked faster than my brain did-- I crossed streets without looking, stumbling over cracks in the sidewalk, the distant hum of the party fading behind me as I passed the houses in the neighbourhood.

All of this distracted from the heaviness of my heart.

I had lost everything.

But behind me, just far enough away that I couldn't hear his footsteps, Roman followed. My everything.

He didn't call out to me.

He didn't rush.

He just walked. With his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, he walked like he was tethered to me by destiny.

And maybe he was? A big part of my believe it, but tonight? Tonight, I couldn't take it. I turned around to face him, my breath unsteady as all my emotions ravaged through my chest; "Could you please stop following me? I can't-- I can't think when you're near,"

Roman came to a slow halt. He swayed slightly, his shoulders slumped, his hair a mess over his face. He looked at me like he wasn't really seeing me at all, like he felt nothing and everything at the same time. Then, in a voice so quiet it barely carried, he muttered, "I just... I don't know what else to do,"

The admission hung between us, hollow and tired. He sounded so wrecked-- something cracked inside me at the sight of him, at the way his lips barely moved when he spoke, at the way he looked like he could fall apart with the wind. He had nothing left to give. Not to me, not to himself, nothing at all.

Looking at him any longer than this would kill me; I knew it. My heart trembled in my chest as my eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. "Me neither," I breathed, turning back around to continue my stride, too drunk to think clearly, too pained by the events of the night.

It didn't take Roman more than a beat to keep following me. What else could he do?

I didn't know where I was going, but a park came into view and seemed like the most peaceful option. The playground, the swings, the hollow quiet of a place meant for children, was abandoned at this hour-- my feet dragged through the wood chips as I made my way toward the middle of it, taking in the quiet of the landscape. Maybe this place would give us peace?

But Roman's steps came to an abrupt stop a few feet away. "Did you know?" he called out. "Are you sure you didn't know about Peter and Letha?"

I turned to look at him then, to really look at him. The streetlights cast shadows across his face— he was in the dark, where he certainly belonged. "I had no idea," I confessed. "I would've told you if I knew."

Roman let out a weak, bitter breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is too much," he choked out. "This night-- I can't take any more of this. I feel like I just died."

A long silence stretched between us, thick with something neither of us could escape. There was no anger in his eyes now, no fire, just hollow emptiness, and I couldn't tell if that was worse. "I'm sorry about Peter," I tried, softening my eyes. "I always knew Letha was a bit of a cunt, but I would've never thought Peter would do something like this to you... I'm sorry."

Roman couldn't look at me anymore-- he raised his chin to look at the pair of crows sitting at the top of a nearby tree. It was at this moment that I saw the tears in his eyes, and the single one that rolled down his cheek. "I don't care about Peter," he breathed. "I don't care about him, I don't care about Letha, I-- I don't care about anything anymore."

My heart hammered in my chest— what?

"I feel at fault, because I should've known," Roman mumbled, his voice full of resignation as he rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand. "I should've known this would all fall apart... because it always does. People always leave. You always leave."

Fuck. "Roman," I whispered. "That's not—"

"I've been running after you, hoping that if I tried enough, if I did more, that you'd choose me... but you won't," he choked out, lower lip quivering. "Not even my best friend chose me. No one ever does, so... I'm done. I can't change what I am. I'll always be a upir, and if you can't trust that I'd rather die than hurt you, then there's nothing more I can do."

Roman turned away, and his shoulders slumped with the realization; at the end of the night, I wasn't the one who made the final decision about us-- it was him. His next breath seemed to be one of pained relief; "I can't keep doing this. Congratulations... You're free. I can't love you anymore. I won't love you anymore,"

He took a final, slow step back. "You're right... this has to end. It's over,"

And then, Roman Godfrey turned around to leave me drunk and alone in a park long past midnight.

... What?

Roman was done?

He couldn't love me anymore...?

I won't. I won't. I won't.

It echoed all over. It's over. I can't. I won't. But that's surely not how love works? Can someone just decide not to love someone?

My reaction to Roman leaving felt like a stolen breath-- painful, instant. It felt like my words clawed their way out of my mouth, forcing my jaw apart with one quick snap of bones, and exited with one quick, panicked yell; "Wait!"

It echoed through the park.

Over and over.

My hand laid over the vial of his blood which I kept around my neck, feeling it burn into my skin. "Roman, wait!"

... And it's around here that you'd assume this would end, right?

You're probably holding your breath, waiting for the moment when Roman's gonna turn around hear me out, tell me he loves me after all, that he's gonna forgive me and we'll live happily ever after, blah blah blah--

But this is not that kind of a story. I'm sorry that I made you believe it was.

Do you finally get why I've needed you along with me this time? Why I've been talking directly to you for once?

... No?

Fine. I'll be more clear. I'll show you the rest; I'll show you why.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I anticipated the sound of Roman's voice, the sound of his forgiveness coming out to soothe me. This was probably proper karmic retribution for me, sure, but could this really be the end?

Now that he was truly walking away, it hit me like a freight train; I didn't want it to end.

I didn't want to let him go, especially now that he was letting go of me.

It could work, right?

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move, so I did. When I realized Roman wasn't turning back around, I choked down a brewing sob and hurried to keep up after him. "Rome, please!"

The nickname had him twitching; it was clear that he was upset about his choice, his forced resignation, and the doubt in his body was a consolation to my momentary panic. But in that moment, his head also turned to the side, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. In no time, completely out of the blue, Roman picked up his pace and started walking in a completely different direction like a dog in a fox-chase. His nose flared, his posture shifted-- he wasn't just walking away from me, he was sensing something.

What was happening?

"Wait!" My voice cracked, rising with panic. He wasn't stopping. He really wasn't stopping. "Stop it! Where are you going?!" Would we ever stop chasing each other? "Do you really expect me to be okay so easily after you kissed Jessica like that?! This is-- This is too much pressure, this is insane! Give me a minute to think at least, stop running!"

Roman's movements were so fast, so precise, that it felt like I was trying to catch up to a ghost. The distance between us seemed to stretch, and I could feel my limbs growing heavier with each step, the weight of my emotions and alcohol pulling me down. But I kept going, desperate, with my heart drumming in my ears.

And when Roman finally came to a halt in the outskirts of the park, I lunged forward; I tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, stumbling as I clung to him, forcing him to see me, to hear me. I let out a choked sob against him, desperate to not let go of the man that I loved. "Hear me out, okay?" I cried. "Just give me a second, I'm too drunk to think!"

But Roman didn't react.

Didn't look.

Because his gaze was frozen on something completely different.

There, tucked into one of the small, plastic playhouses, was a shape. A person.

Confused and broken, my gaze followed his. At first, it barely registered-- it was just someone that had passed out, curled up in the cramped space like a drunk trying to sleep it off. It was the kind of thing you might see after a party, someone who never made it home. That was normal; I didn't think much of it, confused by Roman's entrancement, until I recognized the pink clips in the person's hair.

That was Brooke Bluebell, wasn't it?

Fuck-- it was.

Then, I saw the way Roman's face shifted, the way his nostrils flared, the way he inhaled. It immediately made me step away from him and toward Brooke. Something cold crawled down my spine; "Roman?" I whispered, instantly feeling beyond nauseous once again. "Maybe we should?--"

His arm shot out, barring me from moving any closer. "Wait," he snapped, his voice coated with warning and concern.

The smell hit me a second later.

Coppery. Thick.

I gagged when I finally got a proper look, and I stumbled back as the truth crashed over me.

Brooke Bluebell wasn't sleeping.

She was laying in her own blood, her eyes wide open as her drained body looked frozen in a scream-- her intestines had been dragged out of her stomach, scattered along her torso, and her legs were gone, as though mauled from beneath.

Slowly, Roman turned to me, pupils dilated beyond normal; I knew his upir senses were screaming inside his head. "I thought the smell of blood was thicker because you were on your period or something," he breathed. "I thought-- fuck."

My mind was spinning beyond control, and only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the playground until the distant wail of sirens cut through the silence. I flinched, feeling my heart-rate spike; "Shit!-- Roman, we can't be here!" I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. "Please! You can't be exposed to this, we've gotta go!"

But Roman didn't move.

He wouldn't.

It was clear that he was trying to drown out whatever his upir senses were telling him to do, and I had no idea how I was supposed to reel him away from the edge.

The sirens howled closer, and the wind picked up, scattering the scent of blood into the cold night air.

... Brooke Bluebell was dead.

And we were about to be caught at the scene of her murder.

(a/n: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! WELCOME TO THE PLOT OF BOOK 2! I WILL BE MAKING AN ANNOUNCEMENT THIS WEEKEND, BUT BEFORE THAT--- THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH MY SWEETHEARTS FOR READING THIS FAR!!🥹🌸 I have been building towards the Letha and Peter reveal since the STARTTTT AHHHH FINALLY IT'S YOURS!!! FINALLY I CAN SHARE IT!!! MY HEART IS YOURS, AND SO IS MY WORK, SO THANK YOU<3333 AND I'M SORRY FOR THIS OH GOD???)

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