#source: ugly truth

[hxuse-xf-black]

Scorpius: Yeah, it's scary. It's terrifying. Especially when I'm in love with a psycho like you! Rose: I'm not a psycho! Scorpius: I just told you that I love you and all you heard was psycho.

[robertsbarbie]

just a reminder: you are not immune to propaganda. you are not immune to misinformation. you are not immune to facing hard truths. you are not immune to needing to think critically about EVERYTHING you read online. the world isn't an algorithm! and an app that has permanently hurt many aspects of society should not be what you hinge your life, experiences, and knowledge on.

[nova-moon13]

[jade-curtiss]

Redemption is nice, but if people start whining that people they'be been bigoted against don't trust them or that they're kind of hostile and impatient (read: not coddled) it's not redemption, it's fishing sympathy and pretending to know better to avoid social consequences.

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ dirty business ~ i. midoriya

sum: you've been hired at a famous business company and you're meeting your new boss. on the way your thoughts turn to the usual 'they're going to be ugly or hairy' or 'they're going to try and bribe me' because of all your previous bosses. turns out you couldn't be more wrong.

pairing: boss! izuku midoriya x worker! female reader

content: 18+ - mdni. p in v, reader gets called princess/sweetheart, dirty talk, cum dripping/creampied, general NSFW content.

a/n: another request from my wattpad days - featuring everyone's favourite green-haired pro. yet another work that's been rotting away on my drafts because i haven't had time to edit things lately. enjoy! as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 1.9k

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

Titling your head back to look up at the overly bright fluorescent lights, you let a small sigh pass your lips as you wished to be anywhere other than where you were. Yet, by no fault of your own, here you were questioning if this was really worth it.

Closing your eyes, you imagined yourself on a beach, the warmth of the sun kissing your skin as the sound of the ocean moving lulled you into a sense of calm and tranquillity. After a few minutes, you opened your eyes again and moved your head down, glancing around the space you were in.

Every part of you wished this would be over within a matter of minutes, but deep down, you knew that was a lie. It could probably take a good hour or so. Today was the first day of your new job, and you had the pleasure of meeting your new boss before being shown around the workplace.

Truth be told, you didn't want to do this, not again. You had bad experiences with things like this, especially with the bosses of your old jobs.

They'd be your cliché old seedy guys who didn't know when no meant no and certainly didn't care about you or what you felt, as long as they could have their fill of your young body in any way they wanted. Hopefully, this time, that wouldn't be the case and you'd get to stay at a job for longer than a few months. "Miss (y/n)? Mr Midoriya is ready to see you now".

The sound of your name made you blink before turning to the source of the sound, offering a small smile to the other young woman who was standing there as you stood, brushing yourself down before walking forward, bowing your head at the receptionist as you walked past her.

Turning the corner like you were instructed to, you made your way down the hallway towards the big double door at the end. When you reached them, you raised your fist and stalled for a second, hand hovering in place before bringing it down to the wooden door, making your presence soon known with a knock.

"Come in!".

Green eyes watched your movements carefully as you walked in, your head bowed slightly as you closed the door behind you. "Y-You said you wanted to meet me, sir?".

A low chuckle passed Izuku's lips as he leaned back, taking in you and your figure. Dressed in casual business attire, it complemented your figure perfectly, hugging you in all the right places. Places he loved on a woman.

Of course, he wouldn't say that to you, only to himself as he leant forward, joining his hands together in front of him as he distanced himself from his thoughts, for the moment at least.

"Ah, yes. Miss (y/n), was it?". A soft hum and a nod of your head was your only answer as you didn't dare to look up. You didn't want to face your new reality yet, so you tried your hardest not to look up.

Watching you again for a moment, a small smirk tugged at his lips as he stood and made his way over to where you stood. Beginning to walk around you, getting a closer look at you before halting his steps.

Something about you intrigued him, and he wanted to get to know you better. He could gather you were somewhat quiet, but with a confident smile to himself, he knew he'd be able to break down those walls and get the prize he desired. "Now, is that any way to greet your new boss, Miss (y/n)? I'd much rather see your face than the top of your head".

With a gulp, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm your erratic heart. The inner battle you were facing was not making things easier. Biting the bullet, you opened your eyes and lifted your head, only to find yourself gasping at the male in front of you. He wasn't like any of the other bosses you had.

Green hair with eyes to match, freckles dotted around his cheeks. He was younger than you had expected, but he was certainly handsome. You could feel feelings stirring up in you, especially thoughts that were not safe for the workplace, but you mentally scolded yourself, telling yourself this is not the place.

Maybe you would enjoy having this man as your boss. Only time would tell if you were right.

It all started with the occasional comment or glance. Light touches on your shoulders or arms that made you shiver in a way you forgot existed. A way you hadn't felt for such a long time.

You knew it was a dangerous game you were playing, but right now, you didn't care. You tried to hold yourself and your composure for as long as possible before it fell away one late night in the office.

Taking a deep breath, you sighed and smiled a little, tapping away on your keyboard as you continued with the report on your screen. Today was one of the days you decided to stay behind, along with a few others, to catch up on small pieces of work you had missed for whatever reason.

You didn't have to, but with the project you and your floor had been working on coming up, you didn't want to take any chances on anything being wrong or not turned in on time. Everyone knew that would have a detrimental effect on the company's profits.

Letting out a pained moan at the stiffness you felt, you stretched in your seat a little, enjoying the small popping you felt before standing up. Leaning on your desk, you took the opportunity to stretch yourself a little more, a groan of joy passing your lips as you felt a bigger crack in the top of your back.

The pleasure that seemed to spread through your body made you sigh in relief.

Green eyes watched carefully as their owner smirked once they saw you were distracted enough. Enough for them to finally move from their hiding place and walk over to you. Strong arms wrapped around your frame, causing you to squeak in surprise, jumping slightly as you looked over your shoulder. "A-Ah! S-Sir?".

Chuckling, Izuku let his arms drop before stepping back, taking in your current position. Everything about you was perfect and driving him insane. The curves of your body were more on show due to your current position had him biting his lip, thoughts going into overdrive for a moment.

Moving closer, he lifted a hand and let his fingers run down your back, smirking at the way you shivered and moved instinctively into his touch. "You know, you'd look so much better without these clothes on and bent over my desk like this~".

Biting your lip, you stood and turned around, taking your time to look him over. Running a hand up his arm, you wrapped it around his shoulder when you came to it and tilted your head, looking up to him as you pondered your next move, if there was one. "Hmm. That may be true, but I have some work to do".

Strong hands rested on your hips and pulled you closer, bodies pressed against each other as hot breath fanned your neck. Soft moans slipped past your lips as the green-haired male moved up to your ear, whispering words that had you weak at your knees and your core throbbing in need.

Pressing yourself closer to him, you could feel his cock twitching slightly beneath his work trousers, the thickness making you shiver ever so slightly. What would that be like, buried deep inside you? "You might do, but how about I put you to work on something much harder?"

A loud moan slipped past your lips as your walls stretched to accommodate the thick cock pushing into you. The way your walls gripped Izuku tightly, not wanting to let him go. Arching your back off the desk, you gripped the edge of the wood beneath you, knuckles turning white as you tried to keep yourself anchored to anything that would stop you from losing your sanity.

The obscense sounds your cunt was making only added to the pleasure you were feeling. "Fuck, you take my cock so well, sweetheart. Like this pretty pussy was made for me". Those words had you moaning in embarrassment as you felt yourself clench around Izuku. The quick snap of his hips had your eyes rolling into the back of your head for a second.

You'd forgotten what it felt like to be touched like this, let alone fucked. The guy was relentless. Each thrust of his hips had a loud moan slip out of your parted mouth, your walls gripping onto him as he continued to pound into you. Neither you nor your cunt wanted to let him go. "That's it, princess, fuck, let everyone know how you're feeling. Let them know you feel like this because of my cock".

Wrapping his arms around you, Izuku picked you up with ease and held your body close to him. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moned out louder as you felt the head of his cock press against that spongy spot deep inside.

Strong hands gripped your hips as you felt yourself being guided, body bouncing more roughly as you let a chant of his name pass your lips. The knot in your gut tightened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, desperate to anchor yourself to reality somehow. "A-ha, sir, please, can't take much more".

The feeling of your head being pulled back by your hair had you push your hips down further than you had intended, causing your body to stiffen momentarily at the jolt of pleasure running through your veins. "I told you, sweetheart, shit, call me Izuku while we're like this, although-".

His grip on your hips tightened as he felt his orgasm creeping closer, thrusts beginning to pick up pace as more chants of "yes" fell from your lips. "-I love any fucking name that comes from that pretty mouth of yours".

A loud groan echoed around the room as Izuku felt himself cum, his hot seed spilling into your now tighter cunt in what felt like a never-ending flow. Your own euphoria zapping through your body as your eyes flutter shut, the walls of your cunt milking him.

Resting your foreheads together, you both panted, desperate to catch your breaths, air in the room hot with the aftermath of your extra work. "Tomorrow, I want you to come and see me so we can continue this. You were a good girl taking all of me like that".

Nodding your head as best you could, you sighed out an agreement as you opened your eyes, moving your head slightly before taking in the flushed appearance of your boss. "Oh, and one more thing-".

His fingers lifted your head, making you look into his eyes. Your tired expression never let itself go from your face as you nodded your head in a state of post-orgasm bliss. "-don't you dare clean yourself up before you go home. I want you to tell me tomorrow what it felt like to have my cum dripping out of you, how it felt to be marked in a way only I get to do".

At this, your insides throbbed again, causing you to bite your lip at the feeling of his essence slowly seeping out of you. You knew you were probably playing a dangerous game, but you didn't care.

Not a single bit of you cared.

You could get used to this. After all, it wasn't every day you had a hot boss let alone got to fuck him until it felt like you had been rearranged both inside and out.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[lambcultist]

bad idea.

synopsis — ‧₊˚ ⋅ your heat rears its head for the first time in your life when you're spending time with a dear friend. instead of letting you stress and worry alone, ellie makes the executive decision to take care of you for the week. maybe that was a bad idea. she knows no more than you about what to do right now—all she knows is that she doesn't want to see you hurting, and your clinginess comes from the evolutionary instinct to be bred. perhaps her judgement is just a little clouded, but it seems like there is only one solution to your problems, and she'd feel awful withholding relief from you.

content warnings — ‧₊˚ ⋅ MINORS DNI ( 18+ ) omegaverse. alpha!ellie x omega!reader. heat. completely just porn (with plot). loser!ellie coded. friends to lovers. amab!ellie. virginity loss, scent kink, knotting kink, marking (as in omegaverse marking), breeding kink, possessive!ellie, subspace, fingering, p in v sex (without protection). for this anon.

　　　　m.list　wc — 3.3k　mdni, please ♡

at first, ellie thinks that you must have lit a candle. yet there's nothing alight, no flickering flame.

it's something warm, sweet, and spicy. there's a little bit of cinnamon, milk, and rose... it's so unique, like nothing she's ever smelled before, and before she even knows it, the pleasantness of it has her gravitating to whatever the source is.

"did you try a new perfume today?" ellie mumbles, taking a deep breath of it in. it's like your faint, natural odour has been elevated, and she loves it. "it's beautiful."

"um, no.."

you are far less comfortable than ellie right now, curled up beside her, and she's moved so close to you without even realising—she's almost on top of you. for some reason you aren't annoyed by it, rather content with it. your skin feels as though it's on fire, and it's only soothed in the places she rests on.

when ellie finally opens her eyes and takes a look at you, she sees your discomfort, and her brows crease with worry. "oh god, you're sweating bullets. y'alright? what's going on?"

"s'okay, closer..." you hum, wrapping your legs around ellie's. hanging onto her like a koala, with your face pressed into her side. "it's hot..."

"yeah, it's— you're hot. like, temperature wise, i mean. well, not that you're like, ugly. you're hot, i just— i wasn't trying to say that. i'm... going to shut up." jesus. ellie isn't very good at nurturing. she's not really great at being soft, either.

"ellie..."

"hi," ellie offers, looking down at you. the television is still playing idly in the background, and she tries to brush some of your hair out of your face. your scent is becoming so overpowering right now, she can't help but feel weird about it. her mind is cloudy, and your sudden clinginess is just making her face hot. "you feeling okay?"

"no... it's hot," you complain again. so, ellie tries to pull the blankets off, that would help, right? you seem to be running a fever, jesus, she really hopes she doesn't catch whatever you have.

well, when ellie pulls back the sheets, she's confronted with the truth behind your sudden ailment; a large wet patch has formed beneath your body, staining her bed. no wonder your scent was so strong. it's slick.

"oh.. shit." she clears her throat awkwardly, her hand pausing its gentle petting of your hair. "you're... are you in heat right now? did you—"

"this is my first heat," you whine. "i didn't know it was coming, m'sorry ellie. i'm scared and—"

"oh no, no, don't be scared! it's alright." ellie's quick to stop you from taking any blame, although she's just... dumbfounded.

she feels so strange now, but her first course of action is to hold her pillow over her lap. she doesn't want you to notice the semi-hard outline of her cock in her sweatpants, she already feels like enough of a creep just for it being there.

she's always been proud of not being one of those alphas. she's tried so hard to make you comfortable around her since she met you, having seen you be unable to relax in the presence of others. she's harboured some awkward feelings, but was on high alert, making sure she never overstepped. she isn't entitled to you.

her mind feels so, so hazy right now, and it's a problem.

what is the rational thing to do right now? she knows it's to keep her hands to herself, and maybe help you prepare a nest. you may have to spend the week here, it's too dangerous to transport you from ellie's place back to your own. how the fuck is she supposed to keep all of her touches respectful right now?

"you wait here, okay darlin'? i'll get you some more blankets and pillows, we'll get you comfy, that's good yeah?"

"don't go, no," you mumble, shaking your head.

"listen to me, i'll be two seconds."

ellie has never heard her voice do that before. she's never spoken with so much authority, and she's certainly panicking that whatever lame instinct your scent has awoken in her is taking over, but perhaps it's just stress, too. this is stressful.

she's also rock hard, simply because you listened so well, and let go of her immediately. your sweet whimper as you curled into yourself...

ellie takes deep breaths as she approaches the linen closet. she doesn't have much for you to work with, but it'll do. she grabs all that she can and brings it back to the bed. the way that your eyes scan it all is almost analytical in nature, it's so purely instinctual. you've created nests while spending time with ellie before, but only with the limited supply of bedding that was on hand. this is going to take more time, and it'll be so much comfier than any nest you've made her before.

"think you'll be able to make something comfy with this?"

ellie assists as you put together a comfortable place to rest. she's not as helpful as she thinks she is, and gives up after realising you're moving and readjusting everything that she just put together. she's just being more of a nuisance than anything else.

as you crawl about the bed and mull over every little detail, ellie watches. she figures this is growing a little obsessive, and that's because it is. this needs to be perfect. but you've slightly readjusted different pillows ten times now, so ellie decides to step in, putting her hand on your shoulder.

"that's enough now. do you want to lay down and watch a movie?"

big eyes meet ellie's and she almost feels fucking heartless for asking you to be done with the nest now.

"it's— the nest is good. it's great. we'll be nice and comfy, let's just get you rested up, okay?"

"okay," you murmur. but you're really not going to be comfortable like this, with your shirt sticking to your blistering skin and panties soaked of slick. it's starting to run down your legs, the creamy substance so distracting to ellie, but you catch her again with a whine. "it's just really hot."

this is really what ellie wanted to avoid. after all, you're just her friend, and she doesn't want to meddle with any of that. especially not like this, with your heat involved. she knows that your clinginess right now is all based on instinct, or at least she thinks so—she's forgetting how much you stick to her like glue on a daily basis. it's just that her own instinct is beginning to cloud her judgement and she knows that if you take off your clothes, it's going to get very, very difficult to rein herself in.

"okay, you okay if we get these sticky clothes off you then?" ellie asks a little reluctantly. rationality is at war with instinct right now. her body is all too excited, especially once you nod and she begins to peel your top off.

there is an omega in ellie's bed, close to crying over the painful need that a heat can bring, and ellie just has to keep her hands to herself. for a whole week. this is not going to end well, it's not, and she knows it's not.

you curl up so close to ellie, her scent filling your senses. you try to watch the movie on her tv, but it hurts. it hurts your head. your stomach swirls and aches, because all you keep thinking about is why hasn't ellie done something yet? she's doing nothing but stroking your hair.

and it just gets worse and worse the stronger her scent becomes and when your eyes dart down to the tent she's trying to subtly palm with her free hand. you're needy, you're needing ellie right now. alpha.

it's getting to ellie a little too much now. she cannot continue listening to you whimper and sob in need anymore. and although she's starting to lean more towards just giving up her resolve and fucking you, she still tries to rationalise it—we're friends. it's okay, you need this. it won't be too bad if i just help out once, right?

"you okay?" ellie asks, staring down at you. she stifles a shaky sigh, letting her hand fall to your shoulder and gently rub the warm skin. "do you... want anything?"

"you." the answer is definitive. it sounds as though you've never been more sure about anything in your life before, and that is really how you feel right now. "please, alpha."

there is a pause, where ellie tries to fight with herself one last time.

but you called her alpha, and it rolled off your tongue sugary and welcomingly.

"do you want me to help you feel better darlin'? i can," ellie whispers. she can, but she's also never freaking had sex before, and she knows neither have you. this is such a bad idea.

"pleaaase," you mewl, looking up at ellie. you rest your hand over hers on your shoulder, and squeeze gently. "alpha, i need help."

you won't stop. alpha. alpha. alpha. it's making her head spin.

"shh, shh, i know. i gotchu. gonna lay you down and help you out, okay?"

maybe ellie can get away with this in a more simple way. she, stupidly, doesn't have any condoms (she always thought, why even bother? not like i'm getting any action!), so if she fucks you, there's a very good chance you'll end up with her pups. she doesn't need that, no matter how much she wants to knot you. maybe she can just get away with touching you, and she'll just try to cope with her erection until she can find a good time to rub it out in the bathroom.

ellie gets up and ever so gently rolls you onto your back, her fingers rubbing circles into your sides. she is confronted with the sight of your body now, she cannot look away like she attempted earlier. every beautiful curve and blemish and crevice is available for her viewing pleasure, and it makes it so much harder to ignore her pants' straining.

"there you go, good girl," ellie comforts with a firm pat on your side. when she tries sitting up, though, you pull her back over yourself, her knee nestling in between your legs and her lips a hair's breadth from yours. those half-lidded eyes and that timid smile of yours are all she can see.

"alpha, a kiss?"

"ah, i— i mean, we can, but... tsk. fuck it."

ellie just wants to be a good help. she doesn't want to cross the line too far, rather she'll just toe it for now, but you are making it very, very hard for her to keep being smart about this.

ellie's lips grace yours and you cannot help yourself, a tender mewl falling from your throat. she hums herself, your mouth so perfect, that she can't stop herself from kissing you harder.

"good enough kiss for you, yeah?" ellie murmurs, pulling away to assess the display of debauchery you offer. squirming and rutting against her thigh, trying to paw at the cotton warming her body. "hey, hey, hey, shh. i got you babe. patience."

"achy, els, need you to help—"

"i know, i know," ellie replies, hushing you once again as she pushes your thighs apart. your skin is boiling and sticky, sweat and slick trickling down the supple flesh onto the bed. ellie's mattress is never going to recover from this. that's okay.

two slender fingers pass through your folds, your slick gathering at the tips like thick honey. she can't help being curious, head tilting to observe the way it behaves, her nose flaring at the powerful scent it beholds.

"fuck," she whispers, taking her fingers between her lips to taste it. her dick twitches, almost like it has a mind of its own and is not so subtly reminding her it's right there, in need of some attention. she can't give in to that right now, she has to focus her efforts on you. "okay baby, okay, let's help you out now. thank you for being such a good girl while i'm being dumb."

"aaah, it's okay alpha," you murmur. every word is sighed as though you're out of breath, because you feel like you are—everything is a struggle right now, your need for her overwhelming you. you're too far gone.

a spark of pleasure elicits a full-body shiver, all from ellie's fingers once again rubbing some of the ache out of your cunt. she is clearly trying to be as gentle as she can, although her wide-eyed fascination grows so much stronger when your fluttering hole sucks her fingers in so welcomingly, knuckle-deep in an instant. as easily as you took her fingers, there's still an undeniable, delicious stretch, and the sting is easy to ignore, thanks to your heat.

any rational thought, any pain, any independence, is all replaced by pure instinct. you are at your most fertile. there is nothing running through your mind beyond the thought of fulfilling the cause that you were given as an omega. the only comfort you can get is when you're touched. ellie, ellie, ellie. it's her. she's your ticket to relief.

"god, aren't you pretty like that?" ellie gasps, eyes unsure whether to stare at your pretty pussy or your pretty face. she wants to imagine it's her dick spreading the folds of your pussy like that, making your face contort in pleasure, just like her fingers are. "is it good, darlin'?"

"more," you whine, shutting your eyes. ellie is quick to oblige, a third finger pushing in.

she curls her fingers inside of you, scissoring and moving them, and she leans down to drag her lips along your neck. in the process, she finds your scent glands at the nape of your neck, where your smell is the strongest, and it's fucking miserable trying not to sink her teeth in. you are so trusting to her right now, she could easily mark you. she's always wanted her own omega... this is exactly what she wanted to avoid. well, aside from getting you pregnant, of course—ellie can't trust that she'll be able to keep this all 'friendly'. marking you should be thoroughly out of the question. and yet, she's struggling.

"alpha, more."

"don't snap at me."

ellie feels bad for scolding you. obviously. but it kind of felt great. you listened, you shut up instantly. she's suddenly starting to realise you are the best omega she could find. it's so much more tempting, but, she refuses to breach any barriers right now.

"is this not enough?" ellie asks, making an effort now to keep her voice a bit softer. you shake your head no, because truthfully, ellie doesn't understand what you're feeling right now. she doesn't get what you're going through to the fullest, she has no idea the painstaking yearning you're enduring.

"i need you, alpha," you say. your voice is high, needy, and mousy. "i'll be a good girl. you're achy too, i need to take care of you."

"alright, alright, don't worry. i'm coming babe."

ellie reluctantly pulls her fingers out of you, drawing her lip between her teeth. she shouldn't, but she's going to do this. because what kind of alpha doesn't fold for an omega in need? you are asking so prettily to be bred, telling her you want to take care of her, because you noticed the tent in her sweatpants.

"we're gonna get you what you want," ellie murmurs, hastily shoving her pants down and her hoodie off. "fill you up real nice, yeah? and— and take care of me too."

honestly, ellie does not waste any time now. as soon as she's ready, she's burying her cock in your cunt, all the way to the hilt, and groaning into your ear. you take her so well, cunt clamping down on her. it's warm, it's comfortable, and it's a little slippery, more so than she thought it would be.

ellie lifts her head from your neck for just a moment, eyeing your expression. "you feeling good, babe? how's that for being filled, yeah?"

"mmmh," you hum, barely able to keep your own eyes open. the sight of ellie above you is not something you want to miss, though. through the tears that blur your vision, you spot auburn strands sticking to her forehead, her rosy nipples firm, and her abs flexing as she fights every urge to begin pounding you. she's so beautiful like this. "it's so much."

"good." ellie glances down, catching the sight of her length disappearing into you again as she makes a slow couple of thrusts. "you take it so well, so, so well."

"more."

ellie is starting to hate that word. she rolls her eyes, and huffs. "fuckin' more. alright. be patient."

her pace builds. with the gradual increase of speed, her thrusts heavy and forceful, the more her voice breaks too. needy whines and laboured breath mixing with your own nonsensical babbling and pleading. her hands, clammy and rough, hold your own against the bed.

what has only become more tempting are your little scent glands. ellie glares at the spot on your neck as she slams into you, over, and over, and over. she tries to be careful when she buries her face into your neck.

but she is lost in the moment. you're crying about how great she's making you feel, but she doesn't need to hear that to know it.

you are weak.

ellie does not get to feel strong often. she's shorter, much less muscular than the typical alpha is. she's not ever been good enough, because she's walked this earth in a much gentler way than what is expected of her.

you submit effortlessly, and you've rendered yourself helpless to her. you're as malleable as clay, every little moan and sob inflating not only ellie's ego but her adoration of you.

there cannot be an omega more perfect than you, she's certain that'd be a hard find. thinking about you with any other alpha doesn't just make her angry, but it hurts.

and that's why she sinks her teeth into your scent glands without warning. marking you, so that no other alpha can have you.

and you squeal. she feels no morsel of guilt, instead she's filled with pride. maybe she'll worry about it later, when her instincts wear off a bit and she takes a proper step back from the situation.

"shit, i'm so close," ellie mutters. she can feel her knot starting to build, it's a very unusual feeling. the resistance knocking back all of her thrusts, forcing her pace to slow, even as she chases orgasm. "gonna breed you, fill you up real good like you wanted."

it reaches a place so far and sensitive in you that you now find that relief you sought so desperately. your vision whites around the edges and your body jolts with little sparks of love. every little move is like a shock to you, and despite your crippling sensitivity, you watch in awe when ellie finally lets go. her brows furrow as she falls on top of you, spilling a load of hot, white seed inside you.

you're stuck to her.

neither of you can move. sweaty skin on skin, scents dancing around each other, and the sound of heavy breathing fills the room.

"goddamn," ellie grunts, laying a kiss to your jaw. "good girl. good puppy. f-fuck."

"alpha..." you coo, hugging her tight. "my alpha."

she yelps, feeling a rough nip at the side of her neck. she flushes red and hot to the tips of her ears. you've marked her too.

also just saying, alpha!ellie's scent is wildflowers, petrichor, bark, and dirt. she's earthy and fresh. i really want her :( i will write more more more alpha!els

🏷️  @abbysdollie @cowgirlvi @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @literallyhousemd @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0

[astroxrion]

What’s Blocking Your Success

( in your Subconscious Mind ) PT.2 | 12H:

Aries 12H

Keeps sabotaging momentum by secretly fearing power. Acts passive then explodes. Pretends they don’t want control but gets bitter when overlooked. Hides rage in silence. Must stop waiting for proof of worth. Move without asking permission. You’re the fire. Start it.

Taurus 12H

Addicted to comfort but calls it stability. Dreams big but refuses to risk. Clings to fake peace and numb habits. Fears change more than failure. Procrastinates out of pride. Must kill the need to appear secure. Shake your own ground. Nothing grows in still soil.

Gemini 12H

Talks about truth but hides the core. Lies to self then confuses others. Becomes everyone’s mirror but can’t face their own reflection. Distracts with chaos or intellect. Must stop intellectualizing feelings. Say what you mean. The mask is rotting.

Cancer 12H

Clings to old pain like identity. Mother wounds run everything. Sabotages success to feel safe in sorrow. Hyper-empathic to escape self-responsibility. Guilt keeps them small. Must stop crying for validation. Heal in silence. Don’t bring everyone into your wound.

Leo 12H

Needs the spotlight but hides in shadows. Craves recognition but pretends they’re above it. Secretly devastated when ignored. Acts detached to avoid rejection. Self-suppression becomes bitterness. Must own their light without the stage. Be the sun even when unseen.

Virgo 12H

Tries to perfect the inner world by controlling the outer. Obsessive over flaws that aren’t real. Numbs anxiety with fake productivity. Always fixing never living. Must stop self-diagnosing and start acting. Imperfect action breaks the loop. You’ll never be clean enough to start.

Libra 12H

Avoids conflict to the point of self-erasure. Always shaping identity through others. Peace becomes prison. Betrays intuition to appear likable. Fantasizes about beauty instead of becoming it. Must stop compromising truth. Let things fall apart. Real balance isn’t polite.

Scorpio 12H

Carries buried rage like inheritance. Thinks secrecy is power. Projects betrayal before it happens. Self-sabotages intimacy to stay in control. Drawn to destruction disguised as depth. Must purge the victim mindset. Own the shadow. Stop acting like pain is sacred.

Sagittarius 12H

Spiritualizes everything to avoid grounded action. Escapes through meaning but never applies it. Idealizes chaos as growth. Plays wise but avoids roots. Must stop floating. Turn wisdom into discipline. You’re not free if you’re always running.

Capricorn 12H

Acts unbothered but burns inside. Performs strength while secretly crumbling. Shame is the real ruler. Builds invisible prisons. Achieves in silence but never feels worthy. Must stop hiding weakness. True power is exposed and ugly. Let someone see the collapse.

Aquarius 12H

Rebels without knowing what they’re fighting. Disconnects from humanity then cries about isolation. Plays god behind closed doors. Obsessed with the mind but emotionally starved. Must ground their genius. You’re not above connection. Be weird and still belong.

Pisces 12H

Lives in dreams to avoid reality. Melts into others and loses self. Suffers in silence then demands to be rescued. Romanticizes being misunderstood. Must stop waiting to be seen. Come back to your body. Your softness means nothing if you disappear.

Get an Astrology Reading With me : https://www.tumblr.com/astroxrion/784631769533136896/o-my-readings-the-rion-code-o?source=share

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 12

Source for pic

Imperfect 12

Word Count: 5443

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: Aaaaand we're down bad in the angst stage of this fic. I hope you guys are ready for it, because it's going to take a while before we're back to happy. I've envisioned that last scene before the cliffhanger FOR MONTHS in my head. That and what follows. I hope I did it justice. I love you all, but I hope I managed to crush all your pretty little hearts. Do tell me all about it in the comments! But refrain from being murderous, I still have to get to the happy ending!

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

The rancid smell of the docks is overwhelming. Rotten fish carcasses left too long in the sun, half-devoured by the gulls; stale water splashing softly against decaying wood; and worse: the stench of the nastiest breeds of humans, gathering to add to their list of unending sins. Himself included. 

Kid has lost track of time since he dropped you off, with nothing but the twinkling of stars and the lonesome chirps of crickets to mark the progress of the night. 

Victoria is shrouded in shadows and silence, both acting as punishment for his actions. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles have blanched, and he can’t stop thinking about his mistakes. 

“You should’ve walked away when you had the chance, man.” Heat’s in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dash, arms behind his head. Kid closes his eyes and tries to swallow the lump of guilt that’s lodged in his throat. 

“But you had to be a selfish son of a bitch.” Heat turns his head, and Kid keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t need to open them to know what’s facing him, though. Half of Heat’s head is gone, his brain blown to shit by a PKM machine gun bullet. The Kevlar vest is nothing but a silly adornment, riddled with bullet holes and still-fresh blood. 

Wire laughs in the backseat, a low, rumbling sound. When he speaks, his voice sounds different from when he was alive. His vocal cords sound completely crushed under the weight of the pillar that collapsed on top of him, flattening him into an unrecognizable lump. “Crawling back to the Pit like a dog with its tail between its legs? I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

“Coward.” The word echoes in his head in all their voices. An amalgam of misery, dragging him down with clammy fingers filled with shame. 

“If you couldn’t keep your promise of getting us out of there alive, Captain, you could’ve at least kept your promise to Kill.” Bubblegum pops his chewing gum loudly near Kid’s ear, and he wonders how he can do that when his lips are melted together by the unforgiving heat of the scorching flames that devoured his body. 

“You told him you’d stay out of Hellpit,” Quincy’s voice comes out in a wheeze, a charred hole in the middle of her torso leaving no doubt about the fate she suffered. “And look at you! You’re back already? Tsk…”

He senses Hip and Reck there, too. But they don’t speak. They never do. They got blown to shit right in front of him. Nothing but red mist, blood, and gore left behind. Nothing to bring home. Yet they still judge, they still make sure he carries the guilt on his shoulders. 

Kid removes his hands from the wheel and presses the balls of his palms against his eyes, trying to snuff out their accusations, their ugly truth. But they don’t stop. They never did, and they never will. 

“You hurt her,” Quincy says.

“Aren’t you ashamed of hitting a woman? Your woman?” Heat scolds.

“Daddy warned her to stay away, warned you, but you were never very good at taking orders, were you, Captain?” Bubblegum speaks right by his ear, and Kid swears he can feel the hot breath warming his skin. “Perhaps if you were… we’d all still be alive.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Kid mutters between clenched teeth. “Yer dead, yer all fuckin’ dead.” His voice trembles with desperation and guilt. They’re right.

Wire chuckles, his voice gravelly and rough. “We are. Because of you. And that’s why we’re here. You think a few hours in the Pit are going to help you? That you can drown us out with punches and silence our voices with blood?”

“SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up!” Kid slams his fist into the dashboard, and the plastic gives, cracking and leaving jagged, sharp pieces, splitting in a morbid mimicry of what’s happening to his heart and soul. 

“You’re still running away. From us. From her. From yourself,” Wire continues. “You will always be a coward.”

He wants to scream. To roar and tear his chest open. To lay himself bare and let guilt and pain wash him away. To be cleansed of his sins, to free his conscience… to rest.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, opens the door, and gets out of the car, leaving his demons inside, though their ghostly voices still linger in his head. 

The warehouse is dimly lit and looks as rotten as all the decaying souls inside. Poorly drawn graffiti lines the outer walls, fighting with splotches of rust in a silent battle to see which can overtake more space outside the building. The graffiti is losing. 

The man at the door tilts his head in acknowledgment and lets him in without a word. Inside, the air feels thicker, heavy with the scent of sweat, blood, and testosterone. This time, he didn’t call ahead, so he means to find Apoo. He doesn’t have to look around too much before Apoo finds him.

“Eustass, you bastard,” Apoo cackles, handing him a can of cheap beer. “When I called last week, you said you were done with me.”

“Put me in.” Kid doesn’t ask. Doesn’t plead; he doesn’t need to. Apoo will taunt him, annoy him, and then put him in. He always does. 

“Roster’s full. Wrap your dick back into your pants and find another place to itch your fists. I ain’t got room for you tonight.” Apoo’s snake-like eyes glint under the dim lights. 

“Put. Me. In. Apoo.” Kid’s clenching his jaw so tightly his ears nearly pop from the effort. 

“Geez, man. Calm your tits, I was joking. I’ll find you a spot. Drink that beer.” 

As if on cue, a roar erupts from the crowd watching. The fighter inside the cage drops to the floor, bloodied and beaten. Apoo shrugs and signals the cage handler.

“Clear that useless pile of trash from the cage. Eustass is in the house!” The crowd cheers. The regulars know him, and they’re always down for a good show. 

“Yes, Captain. Go on. Be a monster, you’re so good at that. Run away from us. From her. Run. Run. Run. Coward.” 

He can’t even identify who the voice belongs to now. The roar of the crowd is deafening. Finally. 

Kid knows they’re right. Monster, coward… he’s both. And perhaps that’s all he’ll ever be good at. There’s no use pretending. He should never have thought he had a chance at something else. A chance with you. 

He was always meant to wreck it. 

The cage door swings open with an ominous sound as they drag the limp body of the previous fighter out. Kid’s blood rushes to his ears, his hands clench, itching to hit something solid. 

And the voices?

They finally drown.

-*-

You didn’t sleep at all. 

Tears threatened to spill all night, but you wouldn’t let them. It was stupid, but you felt that if even one of them slipped from your eyelids, it would mean you’d have lost the battle. That you’d lost Kid. And that was unacceptable. 

Sometime during the endless night, you decided you wouldn’t give up. You wouldn’t let Kid wander out of your life just like that, not when it was clear you meant so much to each other. You would just do what you do best: fight for Kid. 

Fight until he gets it through his thick skull that you and he are meant to be. 

At breakfast, you put up a strong front and a smile on your face, giving your father no chance to unwrap his ‘I told you so’s.’ Not when you’re ready to fight for your relationship. 

After lunch, you barge into the garage like a hurricane following a storm. Shoulders held high, chin up, and determination fueling your steps. When you see Kid, the previously rehearsed speech goes out the window. Your heart beats like an ancient war drum inside your chest, and all you want to do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you. 

He’s sitting inside Victoria, so you approach without hesitation, pressing your lips into a thin line to keep them from trembling. No weakness. 

You lean down, then jerk back with a shocked gasp.

“What happened?” Kid’s face is a mess, again. Purplish eye, split lip, dried blood caked in his eyebrow. “Kid!” Your eyes wander to Victoria as he pulls out the cracked dashboard. “What the hell happened? Did you get into an accident?”

Taking two steps back, you survey Victoria’s condition, looking for dents or any indication of what could have happened. She’s fine on the outside, which means… Kid did the damage himself.

“Nothin’ happened. Please, go home.”

His words hit you like a slap. He’s begging you to go away. He hasn’t even lifted his gaze to meet yours. 

“Talk to me, Kid.” You lean down again, extending your hand to touch him, but he climbs out of the car with the dash in his hands and puts an insurmountable amount of distance between you, even if it’s just three steps. 

“No. We ain’t doing this anymore.” He still doesn’t look at you. He turns his back and places the large piece of plastic on his workbench.

“Are you really giving up on us? After everything?” You already sound breathless, and you’re still at the beginning of the battle. 

The very air stills and hums, like it’s alive with your grief. Kid grasps the edge of the workbench, his muscles coiled tight with restraint. 

“You won’t even look at me?” An indignant scoff parts your lips. “You need to stop doing this! You can’t be hot and then cold; wise one minute and dumb as a rock the next!” Kid looks over your shoulder at you, but can’t seem to hold eye contact. 

“I know I didn’t ask for commitment. But at least show me trust. Trust in the way I feel about you, but mostly…” You swallow down a sob, clenching your fists to stop your hands from trembling. “Show trust in yourself, Kid.” 

You take a step forward, and he takes one back, eyes on the floor and clenched fists holding up his walls against your vicious strikes. 

“You said I was your girl! You called me yours, like I mattered!” A sob tears through your throat, and only by sheer will do you force your tears down. “You said I was special, Kid! What changed, huh? What changed between yesterday and today, Kid, because—”

“Ye wanna know what fuckin’ changed?” Kid roars, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours. They’re wild and red-rimmed, filled with the exact same kind of pain you’re feeling, but brimming with the shame and guilt you're trying so hard to rid him of.

You bite back the rest of the sentence that was already halfway out of your lips when he closes the distance between you with two angry steps. “This is what fuckin’ changed!” Without giving you a chance to react, his hand is at the hem of your shirt, lifting it and exposing a dark bruise on your side. 

You gasp as he takes in the blemish. It looks terrible, you’ve seen it. It’s large and purple, about the size of a grapefruit, and hurts like a bitch. But you try to school your features back to a more nonchalant expression. And fail miserably. 

Kid removes his hand with a resigned scoff, and your shirt falls back into place like a sad curtain fall at the end of a tragedy. 

“I fuckin’ did that,” he says, his voice hollow.

“It was an accide—”

“It don’t matter!” Kid waves his hands in the air, eyes widening as he shakes his head. “I still fuckin’ hurt ye! What the fuck don’t ye get?”

Kid turns away from you when you try to reach him again. He slams Victoria’s door so hard, you have no idea how the glass didn’t shatter altogether. 

“I am the fuckin’ monster yer father warned ye about!” He runs a hand through his already dishevelled hair, and the split on his lip opens up when he roars the words. “Angry! Dangerous! Volatile!” A loud, insane cackle leaves his lips next. “I ain’t changin’, sweetheart!”

Your throat tightens, and tears flood your eyes again. He’s not allowing you inside his walls. He doesn’t let you climb them and drag him away. He’s given up.

“Stop, Kid, please…”

“This is me! I’m a fuckin’ mess! A tickin’ time bomb, waiting to blow up in yer face.” Kid lets out another dark, humourless chuckle. “Run away while ye can.”

You step forward again, undeterred. Your relationship with Kid is nothing but a war zone, with battle after battle. Each one more exhausting and draining than the last, with barely enough time in between to allow you to breathe. 

You’ll be damned if you’re going to desert it without a proper fight.

“You’re doing it again. Pushing me away, thinking you’re protecting me, when all you’re doing is hurting us both. You want to drown in guilt and shame and self-loathing alone, so I can be happy on my own?” Your scoff nearly makes him flinch. “You’re just trying to punish yourself, Kid!”

Kid lifts his head, his gaze falling on yours, and for a moment, he looks so lost that you dare to hope. You keep trying to pull him to you, begging him to take the rope you keep throwing over the walls and either break through or let you in.

Anything.

“You think this is exactly what you deserve. That you should be alone, buried in pain and guilt with no chance of absolution.” You force back a whimper. This hurts you as much as it does him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he pleads with a growl, shaking his head and averting his gaze again. 

“No! No, Kid! I will not shut up!” The shrillness in your voice is as high-pitched as it is desperate. Your nails dig so hard into the soft skin of your hands that you already know they’ll leave red, angry marks. “I’ve seen who you are when you stop trying to blame yourself for every mistake!”

“Stop talkin’!” he roars.

“I’ve seen you smile and be happy! I’ve seen you try to be better! I’ve seen you stay!” Your voice falters as your breath hitches, but you keep ramming on those walls as hard as you can. “You made me feel safe! And—” You can’t fight a watery sob, nor the tears that crash down when it hits your throat. “—and wanted, Kid! Please… God, please… fight for us!”

“There’s no ‘us’ anymore.” The finality in his words is what shakes you to your core. He’s done this before. Pushed you away so many times, trying to be the asshole everyone paints him to be. 

Is this the final straw? Is this where you finally draw your limit and simply stop fighting? Because it hurts. It hurts so much to be the only one carrying all this weight. How can you keep fighting when it suddenly feels like there’s nothing left to fight for?

“Ye know ye don’t belong with me. Ye know, deep down, that yer meant for more; bigger, fancier things. Someone stable, safe, rich.”

The feeling of déjà vu almost takes you down. Your father uttered those words to you a long time ago. They hurt then, but now? Now they make you bleed. 

“I’ve fucking had that, Kid.” It’s the second time you’ve told him this, but you still know it won’t stick. “I told you.”

“But that’s what ye fuckin’ deserve!” he growls, eyes blazing with fury and a wish to be right.  “Not—”

“I don't want that!” you snap, voice cracking under pressure. “I only want—”

“—me!”

“—you!”

The silence is so heavy it almost bounces off the walls. You're both staring at each other, chests heaving, wearing your hearts on your sleeves; bleeding out emotions through your pores.

It’s not enough. 

You realise that as soon as he takes another step back. 

“This is the only me yer gonna get. The screwed up, broken and beaten up Eustass Kid. The one with nothin’ else to give but anger and pain. Ye don’t want that.”

And round and round in circles you go. 

A deep sigh leaves your lips as they tremble through the tears. It’s enough. For today, it's enough. You’ve depleted your ammo for this battle, and you need to recharge. 

You turn your back on him, silently vowing to return tomorrow and try again. “Clearly, you still have no idea what I want.”

You’ll keep trying. You have to. Because you know he’s worth it. Even though he’s shattering you into tiny pieces every time he pushes you away, you know he still holds the power to repair them.

If only he allows himself to. 

-*-

The next day, you try again. 

You figure that with sleep comes clarity, and perhaps today Kid is more willing to listen to you, to give you another chance, or, better yet, to give himself a chance. 

However, you didn't expect to be greeted by a ‘closed’ sign and no sign of either Kid or Killer when you arrived at the garage. 

Kid doesn't answer his phone, nor were you expecting him to, honestly. He's been ignoring your calls and texts since you came back from the road trip. You try Killer next, and he declines the call. 

You're already thinking that he might be busy when he texts you in reply. 

Killer: Hey, City Girl. I'm kicking some sense into him right now. Talk later? 

You reply with a ‘yes, please’ and let a smile wash away your worries. Killer instantly knew what you wanted before you even spoke to him. And he's talking to Kid, so maybe he can speak some sense into his thick skull. 

You hope. 

-*-

“Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” Killer looks around Kid's living room. There's a pillow ripped to shreds, a bunch of crushed beer cans, and a half-empty scotch bottle. Kid’s on the floor, curled against his knees like a wounded dog, eyes empty, red-rimmed, and head swimming with alcohol and regret. 

“I happened,” Kid scoffs. A truth hard to swallow, but a truth nonetheless. 

“Elaborate. And don't fucking lie to me. I already know you went to Hellpit, even after promising me you wouldn't anymore,” Killer sounds pissed as fuck. He even removed his bandana to address him, which means business. 

“I fucked up, Kill. What else?” The slur in his voice comes from more than just the alcohol. It's deep pain, guilt, and shame, too. 

Killer sits on the couch and crosses his legs. “I got time,” he deadpans. “Spill.”

Kid fights with his conscience first. He's ashamed to share his faults. But then he looks up, and there's no judgment in Killer's face. There never was. Not once since he's known his best friend - his brother - has he laid judgment over his actions. 

So he talks. He starts at the nightmare because, really, that's where the shitshow began. He explains how you pulled him out and how he took advantage of that. Of you. 

Killer doesn't judge. 

“I could feel her tremblin’ against me, man. She was terrified that I would leave or push her away. Ain't even needed to hear the words. I could feel it.” Kid runs a hand through his matted hair and sighs. “And I didn't want to leave, Kill. All I could think about was how natural it felt to hold her. How good it would feel to wake every fuckin’ day with her in my arms.”

“So what fucked it up?”

A scoff leaves his lips before he resumes the tale. He talks about how everything was running smoothly until it wasn't. Until that fucker Basil Hawkins pointed out the differences between you and how much you didn't belong in Kid's world. 

“I saw it, I fuckin’ saw it. She was in her element. Usin’ posh words and bein’ all icy. Put him in his place, that's for sure. But made me see she's far off my league, man.” Kid reaches for the bottle, but Killer intercepts the action. 

“I'll make you coffee instead.” Killer gets up and navigates Kid’s kitchen like it's his own. “So was that it?”

“If only…” He tells his best friend all about how you told him that he's what you wanted, that it’s him you chose. And then… then comes the hard part. The part where he has to admit that he hurt you. 

Once he starts, though, he doesn’t shy away. He tells Killer how he only saw red when he heard you call his name in distress. All he could think about was getting the motherfucker away from you and then… punish him. 

“She tried to stop me and— fuck,” Kid groans into his hand. “I pushed her. I fuckin’ laid hands on her. Her back slammed into the payphone, and I only snapped out of it ‘cause she fuckin’ yelped!” 

He punches the pillow hard. Maybe not for the first time, since the fabric gives, and it deflates in a sad little poof. 

“Her eyes, Kill— fuck. She was scared.”

Killer places two mugs of coffee on top of the end table in Kid’s living room. Their steam swirls in the air, stealing time away before Killer even speaks. 

“You didn’t hit her, man,” Killer deadpans, his voice steady in a world that hasn’t stopped shaking since it happened. “And she wasn’t scared of you, Kid.”

“How the fuck do ye know that? Ye weren’t there!”

Killer raises his shoulders, twisting his lips into a sad smile. “She ain’t like that, Kid. She didn’t stop fighting for you once since she met you.” Killer leans forward, elbows steady on his knees. “She wasn’t scared of you. She was scared for you. That’s different.”

“Ye don’t know.”

“Wanna bet? How many times did she knock on that door? How many missed calls?” Kid’s silence is answer enough. “I rest my case.”

They drink their coffee in silence, Kid eyeing the scotch bottle like he’s being tempted by the devil himself. He gets up to set the mugs in the sink, and stays there for a beat longer, just staring at the black smudge at the bottom of it.

“I still ain’t right for her. I never should’ve led her on.”

“Aye, so you’ve fucking said. And still you can’t keep your hands off each other. Face it, Kid, you and she are meant to be together, no matter how hard you try to push her away.” Killer talks as if he’s teaching a preschooler his ABCs, like it’s common sense, as easy as breathing.

It’s not.

“I ain’t gonna pretend I’m not poison.” Kid turns the faucet and fills the mugs before rinsing them and setting them aside. 

“You’re not poison, man,” Killer scoffs, rising from the couch to lean against the counter and stare his friend down. “You’re damaged, sure. Hurt? Damn right. Broken? In fucking shambles. But you’re not beyond saving. Everybody deserves redemption.”

Kid’s head hangs from his shoulders. He’s heard that speech before. Every once in a while, Killer tries this. It never works.

“You need proper help. Professional help. Therapy, not the fucking end of a bottle or to rage against everyone and everything.”

He’s said this more than once, too. 

“I ain’t fuckin’ doin’ therapy, ye know that.” He tried it for a few months after he was discharged from the army. Never really worked, he fucking hated it. Hated having to speak and open himself up to a fucking judgy stranger. Fuck that shit.

“Why, Kid?” Killer snaps, a little growl slurring his question. “Is it because you think expressing your feelings is a weakness, or are you scared to break apart once you let someone see what’s on the inside?” Killer shakes his head. “Maybe you’re just afraid of who you’ll be once you’re not broken anymore…”

Kid walks away from Killer, pacing the room like a caged lion. Nowhere to go when the world is breathing down his neck. 

“Guess yer therapy is workin’ right!”

“Aye. I never miss a fucking session, Kid. I lost my friends, too. I can’t compare our situation, and I never meant to, but I’m broken too, brother.” Killer places one hand over Kid’s shoulder. He doesn’t squeeze, he’s just there. “And talking helps.”

Kid purses his lips together, jaw tightening, and doesn’t let out another word. Instead, he turns his back on his friend and faces the window. 

Killer knows that’s his cue. So, he picks up his jacket and keys and heads for the door.

“You’re not alone unless you choose to be, Kid.”

-*-

Luffy is having a party. One of his ragers, something more chaos than entertainment. You promised you’d make an appearance, even though it’s the last thing you want, but then decided to use the get-together to your advantage.

Kid has been avoiding you. He keeps leaving the texts you send unread, doesn’t pick up your calls, and you even stopped showing up at his garage because he kept the ‘closed’ sign in place, and you were feeling guilty that he was losing clients over this. 

That’s why you begged, pleaded, and even resorted to bribery. And it worked. You made Killer promise to bring Kid to Luffy’s house by any means necessary.

It’s a long shot, you know that, but it’s one you hope works. Kid would never go to one of Luffy’s parties of his own volition, and Killer told you he would try his best, but he wouldn’t make any promises. 

You can’t help the fluttering in your stomach from how nervous you are. Kid’s been very adamant about keeping you out of his life, and this is your only chance at speaking to him. It feels like hours pass between casual conversations with your friends until you see a glimpse of red near the entrance hall.

Muttering a quick excuse to Nami and Robin, you move, eyes peeled and, sure enough, there he is: black tee, jeans, a scowl, and attitude for days. He doesn’t want to be here, so you should account for his bad temper before you approach him. 

But you don’t even care.

Making a beeline towards him, you evade sweaty bodies and flailing limbs, reaching him already breathless. “Kid!” you urge, speaking over the loud music. “Let’s talk.”

He grimaces, shooting Killer an accusatory look before the blond disappears into the crowd. Only then does he look back at you. The wounds on his face are still very fresh, but it’s the growing shadows in his eyes that worry you the most. 

“I should’ve known it was a fuckin’ trap.”

You reach for his hand and pull him to a more secluded corner. He doesn’t pull away, nor does he resist you, but you don’t really know how to interpret that reaction. You don’t dare to be hopeful, but you don’t want to be downright pessimistic either.  

“You don’t even need to say anything, just let me speak, please, Kid. Please.” You squeeze his hand, eager eyes pleading with dull, amber ones. He opens his mouth, ready to contest, but closes it and nods instead. 

“You’ve been trying to push me away since the day you realised I was much more than just another girl. You keep saying you’re broken, that you’re a monster. Dangerous. And I keep coming back, Kid. What happened at that gas station wasn’t your fault. You were protecting me. I’m not scared of you, Kid. I never was. You know why?” 

You pause, but he doesn’t answer. “Because I know who you are here,” you whisper, placing your open palm against his chest. “You’re just a man who’s learning how to be whole again. And that takes time and effort.”

“Yer wastin’ yer time on me,” he drawls, eyes shifting without catching your gaze.

“I’m not. You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s always been my decision, not yours. You say you’re all the things my father warned me about, and I already told you I accept all of that, because it’s all part of you. But you know what?”

You take a tentative step towards him, one hand holding his, the other still on his chest. You chase his gaze until you trap him against your own.

“You’re not just that. You’re not just angry and dangerous. You’re also the man who called me his girl, who took me to the beach, and threw wet sand at my hair. The one who gave me his jacket to keep me warm and taught me how to fix a car. The man who held me close and told me he wasn’t going to leave—”

The words get stuck in your throat, and you swallow down a sob. It’s now or never. He needs to understand how special he is to you.  

“I love you, Kid. So much.” The words are barely a whisper, but you feel him flinch, his breath hitching, eyes widening, and his throat working to swallow a lump. 

“Don’t do this… It just makes it harder,” he whispers, taking a step back and avoiding your gaze. 

What? How is he still pushing you away?

“Harder, Kid?” you croak. “This was never easy. I’m barely holding on as it is…” Your confession makes him flinch again, but the shadows in his eyes recede. For a few moments, the world stops, and there’s only you and him.

You, him, and the lightest flicker of hope.

Until he shakes his head, drops your hand, and disappears back into the crowd. 

-*-

You lost him. 

Not just emotionally, but physically. He’s nowhere to be seen. He vanished.

Thinking he's already gone home, you take another look around, trying to locate your friends to say you’re leaving, since you feel emotionally exhausted. You weren’t expecting to confess to Kid that you love him, but it happened.

And it didn’t change a thing. 

You have no idea what you are going to do now or where you are going to go from here. But you’ll figure it out. You always do.

But then you see him, across the room. 

Kid’s sitting at the impromptu bar, a high table Luffy set up with beverages and stools. He looks weary, ready to call it a night even though he’s nursing a drink. There’s a storm brewing behind his eyes. 

With a deep breath, you decide to try one more time. Maybe this time’s the charm, you hope. One of you has to give. Either he sees reason, or you give up. There’s no in-between.

You’re two strides in when Kid looks up. His gaze locks with yours, something unreadable behind his eyes. Shame? Sorrow? You can’t quite tell.

He swallows and, without breaking eye contact with you, reaches out and pulls a girl by the waist straight into his lap. 

You stop, heart thundering against your ribs. You barely acknowledge who the girl is or where she came from - does it even matter? She’s laughing and flirting, placing a hand on his chest. Kid’s hand grips her waist, and your world starts to shrink. 

He wouldn’t…

You know what he’s doing. Your mind knows he’s using every method he can think of to push you away, to make you see he’s not good enough for you, but your heart… your heart is in your throat, ready to spill out and shatter into tiny pieces. 

Kid narrows his gaze for a second, and then his hand slithers up the girl’s spine, settles on her nape, and curls around her hair. Your move. You’ve lost count of the times he did this to you…

You can’t breathe. The air is stale, there’s not enough oxygen in the world to fill your lungs.

You try to speak, but no sound leaves your lips, so you just mouth the words: ‘Please, don’t’. You desperately shake your head, pleading, begging him not to do this. He can’t throw away what you have like this. Because if he does…

Then what the hell have you been fighting for all this time?

You take another step forward, and your legs wobble. Your vision swims. Are you crying?

Kid is still looking at you. He pulls the girl down, leaning in, angling her face so he can kiss her.

You shake your head again, a breathless whisper leaving your lips, an unheard plea: “Don’t… please… no!”

And then—

Darkness.

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen @mapachito @shamblespirate @ibuch7

|Chapter 13|

[t-a-a-1]

More Than Meets The Eye

TFA Optimus! X F!Reader

6k

Summary: Being a rising journalist is difficult. Especially when you have to live a secret criminal life. Things get worst when you start to fall in love with your enemy, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and hero of Detroit City.

You believe the feelings can't be mutual. Yet, he slowly starts to notice that you are more than meets the eye.

A/N: Lots of yearning. Jealously. Enemies to lovers?? You are a journalist who is also a criminal. Idk. Takes place between Season 1 and 2 of TFA.

Chapter 1: Ride or Die

....

Detroit City could be ugly, nasty, unhygienic, gentrified and many other things.

But never boring.

Especially with robotic aliens patrolling the streets.

    Bots that you didn't trust fully nor liked very much.

Even more, that Optimus Prime that everyone seemed to like so much.

With his red and blue colors, his helm that looks like he is always wearing a cap and straight posture that was too authoritative for your liking.

    While everyone was excited, taking pictures of the Autobots, you were there to ask the real questions. Your job as a reporter was to tell the truth and that's what you plan to do by exposing the leader of the Autobots.

"Mr. Prime, I have a question for you."

    You raised your hand, not really sure if that matters but you wanted to keep being respectful.

"Oh, yes, how can I help you, ma'am?"

    Optimus sees you walk through the crowd of people and paparazzi. Press conferences weren't unknown to him. The citizens, the reporters, the speechless mayor and his assistant that probably did everything for him.

"I've done some research and Detroit's oil supply has plummeted since your arrival to Earth. This has created a tax increase for all of Detroit's citizens. How do you respond to this?"

"Well, we do need to eat to keep helping the city," Optimus bends down to be able to speak on the mic. "But we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused."

"If you were sorry you and your team would have already found all  the fragments of the AllSpark and departed Earth."

"How do you know about–?"

    You didn't let him finish his question as you striked with another statement.

"But no, you and the Autobots are too focused on wasting Earth's resources and playing heroes to even think of recovering your world's most powerful energy source."

"What? No, we–"

    He keeps getting interrupted by you. Although he tries to keep his cool, he wasn't in the best of moods either. Each statement you were making was ticking off his clock.

"Without mentioning that you have been spotted entering nearby natural reservation islands without the proper permissions or documentation."

"Well, yes but I thought it was fine–"

"Why would it be fine?" You look up at him. Even when you weren't very fond of the alien robots, you had to admit that they were a spectacle to look at. But you quickly shook the thought away.  "Just because you are big and dangerous you think you are entitled to cross human law?"

"Look missy, I don't know what's your problem but–"

"My problem is that you are not answering my questions."

    There's a bit of laughter coming from behind Optimus. If he had been smart enough, he could've said something along the lines of 'you aren't asking any questions, you are just saying statements.' Instead, he lashes out on you, giving you the exact reaction you wanted.

"If only you gave me time, I would respond to them!" Seeing his mistake, Optimus stands away from the pod, clearly frustrated at the situation.  "You know what, we don't have the time for this."

    Smiling Autobots was the first thing he saw as soon as he turned to look at them. He ex-vents, not wanting to deal with it.

"Autobots, transform and roll out."

.

.

.

    The abandoned building had become their home. It was big enough to have rooms for everyone. Each catering for every bot's needs. But not even the vastness of the building could sparse the leader's rising annoyance. Walking from side to side of the hangar, looking down and with a servo on his chin, he questioned the previous interaction.

    He doesn't remember seeing you before. Either that or your existence wasn't important enough for his processor to remember.

"How did that lady know about the AllSpark?" Optimus keeps walking as Bumblebee and Sari play video games on the sofa. "We haven't told anyone about the fragments."

    Hearing something being dropped, Optimus quickly turns to look at the little girl who has taken long-term residence at their base.

"Sari?" Optimus questions, getting closer to her. "Is there anything you want to say?"

"Sorry, I thought yall were going to release that information to the public soon," she plays with her thumbs, moving them in a circle in between her hands. "So, I thought, why not sell the information to a reporter? Save you guys the time!"

"Why would you do that?"

    Bumblebee questions her, he didn't know about her actions either.

"Because I need the money! If I don't have money, I can't afford food. If I don't eat, I'll die!" Sari feels threatened, especially when she sees the rest of the bots gathering around her. "And all my credit cards have been frozen ever since my dad disappeared."

    It was as if everyone had a spoken agreement. Her explanation was a very good one. Feeling shy and maybe like a burden to them, she did what any little girl would. As best as she could with the current circumstances. No one was angry at her, just worried for what this could bring to the team.

"What else have you told her?"

    Prowl asks this time, sounding as calm as ever.

"Nothing, I promise!" Sari exclaimed. "Actually, ever since I told her about my situation, she never fails to send me some money in the mail."

"Probably to gain your trust so you could later tell her more information about us," Ratchet always assumed the worst of people. A trait that no one could blame. Being a war-veteran, distrusting others was the best for survival.

"I don't think so, she just sends money. No notes, no letters, nothing."

"Whatever the situation is, we can't have her spreading misinformation about us," Bulkhead is the last to speak his mind.

"She wasn't lying, bulkhead," Optimus remembers your statements. Each of them had truth in them. "She was right. We did everything she said we did."

    As much as he wanted to reprimand the little girl, he couldn't do it. Instead he takes a few seconds to think.

"But we can't have her writing negative articles about us," he says as he takes a moment to look at his very little friend. "Especially if we plan to ask for some monetary compensation for Sari."

    He really didn't want to ask for any kind of payment from the humans. Everything he did, he did in the name of goodness and to further improve Cybertronian-Human diplomatic relationships. But Sari was part of the team and his duty as leader was to take care of everyone. And she was a helpless little girl. He needs to take care of her properly and for that he needs human currency. Not much, just whatever is needed for a human to survive. Food, maybe clothes? Water. Oxygen? Medication ... Education? Did she need that? He is not sure but maybe Sari could make him a list later.

For now, there is a reporter he needs to find.

.

.

.

    You weren't new to doing undercover work. You enjoyed it, pretending to be someone else, getting the information you needed, then going home as if you had lived another life.

    Tonight, it was one of those nights. Where you wore heels, a skirt and a revealing top. Loose hair and lip gloss and a wing to cover your real hair color.

    During the day you were a reporter. Tonight you were a car enthusiast.

"So, would you take me?"

"A beautiful car needs a beautiful woman,"

    You had been talking with a man for fifteen minutes. It's stupid how easy it was to get a man. Just listening to them talk for ten minutes straight without talking usually does the trick.

"And you know, racing is not the only thing I am good at."

    Smiling, not because of his suggestive comment but because you were about to get what you wanted, you were about to make your way inside the car.

    Until bright lights pointing at you ruined the moment.

"What does that freak want?"

    There is a loud sound of engine coming from the large truck. Although the light was bright, you could see a few shades of blue and red.

"This is the police, stand down."

"Shit."

    The man who you were talking to didn't hesitate to turn on his car and speed up. Letting off a train of fumes and leaving you behind.

    Great, now you had to explain that you weren't a hooker but an undercover reporter to the officer.

    Except that this wasn't a cop. It wasn't even a person. But a driverless car. A bot you tragically knew too well.

"So you have come for your revenge after today's press conference?" you ask sarcastically as you begin to walk away. You raised your hand and waved from side to side."Well, you got it. Now leave me alone."

    You can hear the little 'click and clack' of your heels as they impact against the concrete ground. But close by you can still hear the roaring engines. Headlights were still pretty bright and you wondered if he understood human cues. Because this just looks like some guy harassing a woman.

"Not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that guy?" Optimus follows as he drives next to you. "I thought you would be more educated."

"Well, I didn't ask you to save me," you wanted to take bigger steps but you've been walking for so long with your heels that you can't do it anymore. "Is butting into other people's business an Autobot costume?"

"Look I am not going to fall into your tactics," he says. "I just came to say that I think we started off with the wrong pede."

"Oh? Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, for starters, I think you have the wrong ideas about us," Optimus takes a closer look at you. Wearing a different style than what you wore this morning. "Yes you are right, sometimes we don't do the right thing. But we are new here and we don't know any better."

"So you should be excused for all actions just because of your ignorance?" you feel like you are being observed. Not in a desirable manner but rather a curious one. Optimus didn't have 'eyes' but optics. His vision is probably more enhanced, being a bot and all.  "Is that what you are saying?"

"No, I am saying that maybe you could try and understand us and be more ... lenient whenever you write about us."

"And why would I do that?" you began to feel self conscious. Miniskirts weren't your thing, you liked them but Optimus heavy optics on you wasn't the most comfortable. Maybe it was all your imagination. Besides, you doubted that Optimus could feel attraction towards a human. "Are you going to hurt me if I don't?"

"What? No!"

    You stop walking and suddenly turn to look at him.

"Then I won't change anything."

    He doesn't want to think about it too much but he feels his something inside him short-circuit. Now, he realized he had been staring at you for too long. Particularly interested in your skin. As far as he knows metal and skin don't react the same way to cold. Your material being more sensitive to climate change. He was studying you and all he concluded is that you were cold.

"Why do you care so much about what we do and don't? How does it even affect you?" his engines roar louder.  "We help the humans with crime, cleaning the streets, repairing buildings and other humiliating things without any type of compensation but I don't see you writing about that stuff!"

"Do you know what happens when you and your crew destroy a building?"

"The city repairs it."

"Yes, they do," you walk towards him, aggressively placing your hands on his door. His truck form was too large for you to reach his window. It's not like you were planning to punch him but rather make your point. "But who's money do they use to repair those damages?"

    He stays quiet and you proceed.

"The people's money," using your index finger, you keep poking at him each time you make a statement. "Ever since you and your Autobots got here, things have become way more expensive. Food, gas, bills. There are families who will be homeless because they can't afford to pay rent. All because the city is raising taxes to pay for all the damages you cause."

    His headlights blink every time you keep touching him, with every word that escapes your lips.

"It's already hard enough being a journalist in Detroit and now I have to focus on surviving too. I need to contribute good stories to the newsroom or I won't even have money to buy cigarettes."

    Then, you point off into the distance, the road is clear but dark. Only the city lights illuminated the path but everything had an eerie feel to it .

"And that guy you just scared off? He was my ticket to have a warm meal tonight and you ruined it for me."

    You take your hands off him. His headlights stop blinking.

"So, I am sorry. I am sorry I won't write about how the Autobots are Detroit's heroes and how good they are because they pick up some cans."

    You walk away. Now thinking of whether to spend your last $20 bucks on food or a taxi to take you home.

    At least you can't hear the roaring engine anymore.

As he sees you struggle to keep walking, Optimus notices your shivering. How you tried to cover your backside with your bag and how ever so often your stomach would quietly growl. Although he wasn't an expert on human biology, he knew that meant you were hungry.

    He remembers your words and then Sari's. Although you were struggling to survive, you still somehow managed to help out Sari. A job he is supposed to be doing but failing miserably.

"I– " he drives up to you again. For a second, he doesn't have anything to say. Apologizing won't help you in any way. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Well, unless you can transform into a racing car and take me to do some illegal car racing, I don't think so."

    Behind you, you hear metal shifting. Driving next to you is blue and red ... Corvette? Camaro? Ferrari? You didn't know a single thing about cars but the only thing you knew is that it was a nice looking car. Dynamic, elegant and shiny. Hot and sexy. And a beautiful car needs a beautiful girl.

"Anything else?"

.

.

.

    It was 3 a.m.

A dark and isolated road on the outskirts of Detroit will be witness to your first car racing. You didn't know a single thing about cars and much less racing. But thankfully for you, your racer is a car. He should know better ... right?

    As a reporter you are supposed to blend in with the crow but with Optimus, you knew that was impossible. All eyes were on you as soon as you drove by the starting line. Wondering who had just joined the car racing scene.

"Everyone is here ... Can't we just arrest them?"

"No, I am not the police.  I am just here to report on things. To inform people this is happening."

You look around the vehicle, there was technology that Earth didn't have. There wasn't a single thing you could understand. Getting nervous, you tried to get some fresh air. Clicking a few random buttons, you hear Optimus make a few displeased growls.

"Would you stop that? You know you are touching my body, right?"

    You quickly stop, not knowing how to feel about being inside a mechanic alien.

"Can you lower the windows then? I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic."

    Optimus does as you told him and now you get a clearer view of your sides. To your right there is a white Camaro with black racing stripes. To your left, a red and white car. The fancy type which brand you didn't know nor care.

"Hey beautiful, when I win let's make out in the back of my car!"

    Hearing that comment, you tell Optimus to roll up the windows again. He quickly didn't hesitate to ask questions.

"What is make out?"

    You see another woman stand in front of the car. Holding a red handkerchief. Extremely beautiful and thin, she made walking in heels look easy. The cars start their engines and you start regretting this.

"If we win this, I'll show you."

"What do we get if we win anyway?"

    Looking at the steering wheel, you think about holding it but then again Optimus seems very decided for you not to touch him. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you shake the thought off your head.

"I get a good story and three thousand dollars."

"Can I have some of that money? For Sari, of course."

"Absolutely but," you look around the car, trying to look for the seatbelt. The race was about to start and you couldn't find it. "Where is the seat-"

    But the race had started, Optimus didn't listen as he sped though the road. You abruptly lay back on the seat. Making mental notes about the situation. The racers, the rules, the cars, the place.

You wished you could enjoy the excitement of the race ... if it only wasn't that your life was held by a threat.

As Optimus makes an abrupt turn, you move from one seat to the other. Almost doing a complete 360.    

"Would you care to drive more carefully?!"

    You rub your head. Feeling like a small bump on the back, you are thankful the windows are tinted dark. No one can see your humiliating falling and bumping into Optimus windows and door.

"Don't you want to win, missy?"

"I can only win if I get to the finishing line ALIVE!"

    As if he wasn't hearing you, he makes another aggressive movement. This time you end up side down, with your head on the feet rest and your legs on the passenger seat.

"THAT'S IT! I AM DRIVING!"

    You straighten up and quickly put your hands on the steering wheel, taking control of the alien mech.

"Hey, missy! Hands off the steering wheel!!"

"I'll do that when you learn how to drive!"

    You fought against his strength, as he moved himself to the opposite side. It wasn't often that you fought against an alien but if your life wasn't in danger you wouldn't do so. Watching all the cars passing by was also alarming, you weren't only going to die but also lose.

"I'll have you know my driving skills have been renowned by the Elite Guard!"

"I don't give a f–"

    He lost control, as you did. The screeching tires against the pavement could be heard as the rubber of them burned. You couldn't react as Optimus crashes against a pine tree. Hitting your head against the steering wheel, you thought you might get a concussion. However, you get enough strength to get out of the car and walk a few meters away from him. It wasn't until all the racing cars had passed you that Optimus transformed back to his robot form.

"I just got a new paint job and a polish!"

    He says as he sees some scratches on his body.

"And you almost killed me!" you put a hand on your head, it hurts as if your whole brain was pulsating. Your sight is dizzy and your body is weak. "I knew it, I knew this wouldn't work out and I still trusted you."

"We wouldn't be here if you had only kept your hands to yourself."

"No, we wouldn't be here if only you had a goddamn seatbelt?!"

    Optimus was also frustrated with the situation. Now he is too far behind to win the race and he needed the money to buy food for Sari. Not only that but after tonight he is going to have to give explanations to the rest of his team. He is probably gonna be made fun of for not having a 'leader-behavior' and they were right. Because why was he here? At first, he just wanted to help you. But it seems you don't want to nor appreciate his effort.

"And why would I? I don't let humans inside me," he points at you, unaware of your delicate state.  "Besides it's not my fault your body is so weak."

"Well, for someone who is supposed to protect life, you certainly do a great," there is clear sarcasm in your voice. You probably shouldn't be fighting against a giant robot but if he were to squish you right now, he would be doing you a favor.

"I don't even know why you are on Earth if you don't even like humans."

"Oh, I like humans, I just don't like you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual."

    You take off your heels and start walking back on the cold pavement. Feeling cold everywhere, you wonder what is going to kill you first. Hypothermia or brain damage.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"We are on the outskirts of the city, you'll get home by the next solar cycle if you walk."

    As much as Optimus dislikes you, he wouldn't let a lady walk alone at night.

"Let me take you home."

"No," now it hurts to breathe. You probably got a few injuries but you tried to hide the pain. The last thing you wanted was to confirm Prime's idea that you were weak. You were, but he didn't have to know. "Just leave me alone."

"Does your pride have no end?" Optimus' words weren't helping either. "Just come inside–"

    He was going to keep talking until he noticed that you had stopped walking. He sees you put a hand on your head and the other on your stomach.

    Suddenly, you lose balance and he quickly reaches a servo out to catch you. He had assumed that most humans should be warm. The coldness of your body was not common. Analyzing you, he sees that you are still breathing but unconscious. You are small on his servo and he feels as though he needs to cover you.

Maybe, you were right ... he should have let you drive.

.

.

.

    There were many questions in Ratchet's processor. But seeing Optimus' worried face restrained his voice box from instigating the Prime.

"I am not an expert in human biology but my analysis says that she is dehydrated and malnourished. She probably hasn't eaten in days."

    Ratchet sees you in the medical berth. In a deep sleep and weakend, he doesn't know when you will wake up.

"Don't you think it would have been better to take her to a human medical center?"

"I thought about it but while I was driving, she woke up momentarily and asked me not to take her there."

    Optimus had assumed that the reason you didn't want to go to a 'hospital' was due that maybe you didn't have a means to pay for it. The thought alone made him spark ache, he didn't understand why humans would charge for a basic right.

"Well then, make yourself useful and bring her some warm human fuel," Ratchet says. "And maybe some human clothes with more fabric or a blanket."

    Optimus nods, but there is hesitancy. He doesn't move and Ratchet catches on this. His optics are on you as if studying you. Most obvious, there is guilt and worry. He takes a closer look at him. Some part of his paint was ripped off and his metal was scratched.

"Did anything of importance happen?"

"I tried to help her with something but things didn't occur as I planned them."

    There was something he was keeping to himself.

"Did anything else happen?"

"It's just ...," he pauses and the longer he looks at you, the more Ratchet wonders. He has known the boy for some time now. He has seen him at his best and at his worst but this is different. It's like he wants to say or do  something but he can't. Either because he is too timid or because he can't find the right words. But Optimus' eloquence was known through all of Cybertron.

"It's nothing."

.

.

.

    The smell of chicken noodle soup wakes up. It is an unknown place but you feel warm. Much more than your cold, small apartment. It was a bright room, and underneath was a red, giant medical bed. A white blanket covers your body and the face of a little girl stares right at you.

"Hi!"

    You slowly stand up, your head still hurting but at least you were alive.

"Hey, kid."

    You take a better look at the place around you. At least it wasn't a hospital and for that you were thankful.

"I am Sari! And you must be (Y/N)? We exchanged Autobot information before?"

    The girl was smiling, excited to see you. By hearing her name, you immediately knew what she was referring to. A few weeks ago, you had received a letter from someone, you assumed that it was a kid due to the wacky handwriting and simple vocabulary. Nonetheless, this kid was selling Autobot information to you, some things valuable, others not so much. After learning the truth behind the kid, you decided to help her as much as you could.

"I am guessing this is the secret base of the Autobots?"

    You ask the obvious. You didn't find any other logical explanation as to why there would be such big beds and medical equipment.

"Yeah ... Please, don't tell anyone," Sari says. "Or Optimus is gonna have to threaten you."

"Well, I would like to see him try," you give the little girl a head pat. "But I promise I won't say a word, just because you ask me to."

    This would have been valuable information if it wasn't due that it didn't matter anymore. You were supposed to have a story by today and the only thing you have is a headache. Another day, another non-existent payment. You are gonna have to get used to eating air at this point.

"You should eat," Sari puts the bowl of soup closer to you. "Optimus made it for you and I helped, of course."

    After hearing his name, you quickly turn to look at the little girl. You could tell she was telling the truth but she also had a mischievous smile.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"   

    You weren't about to make a meal go to waste. Picking up the spoon, you start to dig in. It wasn't bad and you wonder if Optimus actually helped at all because you can't imagine someone who is unable to taste human food, being able to make something this good.

"Well, I was wondering ... Will you be staying with us from now on?"

"No," you simply say, too concentrated in eating to think properly. "Why are you asking that?"

"Well, do you want to?"

"Thanks for the offer but I don't think the Autobots would like me here."

"But I can get so lonely sometimes!" Sari puts puppy eyes on her face and you have to admit that it was slowly working. "I need a friend."

"You can still write to me if you would like."

"That's not enough ..."

    Suddenly, you heard loud and big steps approaching from behind you. You didn't want to think about it. If you don't see it, it's not real. But then you hear mechanics moving and you are sure that if you were to turn around, you'll find a very unpleasant faceplate.

"Sari, do not overwhelm our guests," Optimus says. "She's still recovering."

"Don't mind me, I was just leaving."

    Like an animal, you drink the last of your soup and put it next to you.

"Hey um ... About last night, I ..." He pauses and struggles with his words. "I wanted to apologize–"

"No need."

    You stand up and let the white blanket covering you slip off your body. It gets cold immediately and you are tempted to ask if you can stay with the blanket.

"Wait! If you really need to, you can stay here,"

"And become your charity project? No, thank you."

    His faceplate was still very close to yours. Now you can take a closer look at his optics.  You didn't want to admit it but they were quite beautiful. A type of blue not found on Earth. Maybe not even in the entire universe. It was unique to him and you were a bit jealous of his own individuality.

"I am just trying to help."

"I think you have helped enough," you weren't about to fall for his kindness. It was his own stubbornness that put you in this situation. That and that you haven't taken care of yourself properly but he doesn't have to know that. "If I let you help me again, then I'll for sure die."

"If only you would put your pride away, we could help each other–"

"You want to help me? Why? Because you like me? Or to subside your guilt?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do?"  You can't stand his righteousness. Pretending to be this all-good creature when you know that can't be. How good can he be when he is the cause of your misfortunes? Not only yours but to a lot of more people. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't seem to want to do anything about it. "Why don't you start by leaving my planet first then?"

    Optimus stares at you and you look back at him. It was a few seconds but to you it lasted minutes.

    He doesn't say anything but slowly moves apart from you and walks away.

You turn to look at Sari who was still sitting close by.

"Sorry you had to see that kid."

"It's alright, but can I tell you something?"

    You didn't want to be here. The sun was probably about to rise and you just wanted to go home. But you couldn't say no to the girl, she seemed too sweet and her situation was still lamentable. You nod, confirming for Sari to continue.

"I've known Optimus for a time now and I can tell you that he is not very well-versed with the ladies," she says.  "He rescued a woman once and she asked for his phone number."

    Tilting you heard, a lot of things crossed your mind. You have so many questions, especially about the kind of woman who would want a machine as something more than a friend.

"And what happened?"

"He gave it to her and she texted him," she raised a small hand, pointing up. "The text said 'Do you think I am pretty?"

"And Optimus texted back saying 'I think you look soft and squeezable. And she never texted back."

    You stopped yourself from laughing. Although a small smile left your lips. You look away for a second and then look back at the young girl.

"Optimus is good at hiding his feelings but you can tell he was sad she never texted him back."

"Why are you telling me this?"

    You finally ask, curious about the story but mostly about Sari's intentions.

"Just so you know that he can be an idiot sometimes but he has a good heart ... Well, spark," Sari's voice becomes more gentle and this caught your attention. This wasn't supposed to be a funny story and now you feel a bit shameful for laughing.

"And I think he just doesn't know how to tell you that."

.

.

.

The sun was starting to come out.

You took off your heels for a little bit until the cold pavement was too much to handle for your skin.

    You weren't expecting for things to go this way. Wanting to start a new life, away from everything. It was all going smoothly until they arrived. Now you find yourself on a bench, cold and hungry. Waiting for the first bus to take you home.

How much longer did you have to endure?

    You cover your face, ashamed of yourself. Of every decision you have made in your life. This is your reality now. About to be kicked out of your apartment, without a stable job and nowhere to go. No one to talk to.

Your cellphone rings.

    Not recognizing the phone number on the screen, you were hesitant to answer but lastly, you picked it up, things can't get worse anyways.

"It was harder to get a hold of you than I thought."

You recognized that voice.

"But I am glad you are doing fine. How's the city life treating you?"

"How did you find me?"

    You ask as you look around you. No one was out yet. Just a few cars passed by and the tweets of birds could be heard.

"That doesn't matter. I called thinking you may be interested in a job."

"I am not. No matter what you say, I won't go back there."

"Are you sure? I can send you over the first half of the payment right now."

You were in desperate need. He knows that and is taking advantage of that. Your instincts  were begging you to say yes. To just do one more job, to get enough food to survive for a little while until you can get back on your feet. But ...

"I appreciate the offer. But I have to decline."

    There is a long pause.

"We'll keep in touch."

.

.

.

"Still thinking about that woman?"

    When Ratchet says things like that, it's difficult not to notice the subtle hits in his voice box.

"Perhaps."

    Ratchet can tell many things from the Prime's actions. He wasn't drinking his fuel and in deep thought. At least he wasn't denying the question.

"I am sure you'll see her again," Ratchet says as he pat's Optimus' shoulder plate. "Next time ask for her number."

"It's not like that."

    His cheeks have a slight blue. Very minimal but Ratchet knows better than that.

It was a lively evening in the Autobot's base. With Bumblebee and Sari playing video games while Prowl and Bulkhead stand next to them. Optimus and Ratchet usually watch from the sidelines, never participating but just treasuring the tranquility of the moment.

"If it's not that then what is it?"

"I just ..."

    Optimus hesitates not because he didn't want to tell Ratchet but because he couldn't understand his own feelings. Was it guilt? Curiosity? It's strange and yet both emotions are something he wishes to not feel. He should be worrying about the things he can fix, people he can help.

He shouldn't think about you.

About yesterday night. About the drive back to the base. You laid on his seat, unconscious. Yet you mustered the strength to say three simple words.

"Don't leave me."

And just like that. His spark ached.

Damn you.

    He doesn't have time for this. For all he cares, he hopes to never see you again.

Because how dare you play with his feelings like that?

"I'm going for a drive."

    There was nothing else to do but ride or die.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Here is a new story I am working on. It was really fun to write this. Thank you for all the support you have given me this far! I'll continue to write. For any ideas, comments, concerns, comments you can always message me/or inbox me here. Thank you. Also sorry for any mistakes I made. I don't proof read. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and I'll be answering comments soon!

See you in the next story!

Next:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/772695486936301568/more-than-meets-the-eye?source=share

[muchanmocha]

What to Know About Mizi & Death

I bought receipts. A LOT of them.

—

Mizi and the other kids have always known they would die if they lose.

SUA: My parents and my teachers all said that it is an honor to be able to participate in ALIEN STAGE.

— Audition Interview

Anakt Garden's brainwashing had planted a misguided, sanitized concept of death in them.

Death only meant the end of their journey. They knew they would be "gone" and spiritually "return to the Great Anakt." They were taught dying on that stage is the best ending, the most blessed ending they could possibly achieve.

They didn't know the brutality of it — the ugliness, the twisted horror of an abrupt, violent end.

[...] despite falling into a state of shock after discovering the horrifying truths of reality.

— All-In Q&A

Sua did succeed in keeping Mizi in the dark. It was only upon her cruel end that Mizi found out death was far bloodier, far uglier than she could have ever imagined.

"You always knew what dying was right? Why didn't you tell me? If I had known I wouldn't have stood still like an idiot. I wouldn't have left you like that. I don't have anything Sua. Since I live in a universe without you, I want to follow you."

— disc:mizisua, scrapped dialogue

From the beginning, Sua's sister made sure she was well aware of the reality of death... but that wasn't the reality she wanted to live in.

"Mizi, I liked my spoken hope. I liked the dreams I dreamt. The world I saw through your eyes was everything to me. Sorry. Please protect my entire world."

— disc:mizisua, scrapped dialogue

For Mizi to know the same realities Sua did meant Sua would lose her world. But no matter how much Sua tried to keep it hidden from her, Mizi did have the opportunity to open her eyes to the truth. She just didn't take it.

Death gave Mizi pause, as it does naturally for all living beings, and she was not completely unaware of the flaws in Anakt Garden's facade.

Yet as a people pleaser and Sua's devotee, Mizi wanted what her God wanted — to preserve her "world." And that meant maintaining her ignorance for as long and thorough as she possibly can.

So she turned a blind eye to the occasional ugliness of their reality and pretended everything is fine.

The Mizi up until Alien Stage had let other people's decisions and wants dictate her path.

Pixie-cut-Mizi is determined to no longer be swayed by the situations she finds herself in, but rather, choose and act upon her own decisions.

— All-In Q&A

However that became a source of guilt. In the endless hours after, she obssessed over the fact that if she had allowed herself to know, to dig for the truth when the seams in the illusion showed itself, things would be different.

"If I had known I wouldn't have stood still like an idiot. I wouldn't have left you like that."

Mizi had a dream.

MIZI: Even if I lose, I get to go back to the Great Anakt… Still, I want to sing and perform with SUA for as long as possible, so I want to win with her, together!

SUA: I really want to go on stage and perform with MIZI. My dream is MIZI’s dream as well.

— Audition Interview

Death, blessed as the teachers made it sound, was still scary. Because to die would mean the end of her journey. To die would mean separation from Sua. But if they tie? Tying meant staying together with Sua, never to be parted by death. She put her faith in this outcome.

Sua was no different from an obstacle blocking Mizi's growth. She always made Mizi dream, giving her faith in a good ending.

— R1 Commentary, Artbook

MIZI: I heard that there’s never been a tie in all of ALIEN STAGE’s history… But if we get that tie, then I bet everyone will call us the most fantastic duo to exist in history, right?!

— Audition Interview

Yet the requirement of winning every match before reaching Sua is a formidable one.

So she's willing to take every advantage she's got to make it happen.

After it was clear neither of them could change Till's feelings for her, she had the ugly thought that at least it would help her achieve her dream. She turned a blind eye to what Till's love meant for him — how inevitably he'd die on stage for her victory, so she could live and move on to see Sua.

But at that time, she didn't truly understand the cost, the price of competing in Alien Stage.

Now she does.

This was not what she asked for.

This was not what she wanted.

The truth is, Hyuna's plan didn't include Till's rescue, as it was impossible. Mizi, aware of this, pushed aside her doubts and headed straight for Till's stage.

Mizi also holds a familial affection for Till. That's why, despite the risks involved (putting her own safety aside) her instincts compelled her to go to him.

— Wiege Q&A

She risked her safety to save Till.

She risked death to save Till.

Knowing intimately well what death involves now, she could not let him die.

But he did.

[babybearnation]

insecure!arthur hurt/comfort hc's i beg of thee

oh my poor pookie :(

arthur leclerc x gn!reader (insecurity hurt/comfort headcanons)

arthur may seem confident to people who don't know him, but deep inside, he's very insecure

not good enough, not deserving enough, not quick enough, not handsome enough, not hot enough, not kind enough, not loving enough, not enough. not ever enough.

its worse when he finds someone comparing him to his brother

because even though he knows that charles would never be okay with people staying stuff like that about arthur, arthur can't help but feel like those people are speaking the truth anyways

he's very lucky he has you otherwise these thoughts would leave him totally overwhelmed

often finds himself thinking he's not a good person and you have to remind him that bad people don't worry about being bad, they just are

this sobers him up and he'll sniffle softly at you before apologising for being so insecure - just kiss him better, okay?

sometimes he finds himself questioning why ferrari still keep him on board - is it just because of who his brother is? or does he actually have something to offer?

your best course of action is to reach out to his colleagues and ask them how much he contributes to ferrari and, just like you thought, they come back to you with nothing but praise and kind words for him which helps to cheer arthur up

even though, together with charles, he broke a record in formula 1, arthur still feels despondant over how badly he performed during that fp1 session - sure he wasn't the slowest, but he wasn't exactly the quickest either

you'd have to remind him that he doesn't race consistently, so of course he wasn't gonna be the best of the best, but even if he had been the slowest, he didn't crash the car and he broke a record and surely those things are more important, right?

arthur's looks and physical appearance are a constantly source of insecurity for him

when you see so many people thirsting over your brother & putting you down as "just the other brother" or "the ugly leclerc", it hurts

sometimes he even questions why you're with him because clearly, everyone else thinks he's hideous, which means you must do as well

you'll have to use actions to get him to think straight here because words will just bounce off of him

lavish praise on his body, giving him passionate kisses and tender touches until he gets it in his head that you are with him for a multitude of reasons and his handsomeness, his hotness, his sexiness, his whateverness that he's swearing he isn't on that particular day is just a small part of why you love him

thankfully, it works

when he tells you he needs to be kinder, you can't help but laugh

because kinder? kinder than arthur leclerc? one of the kindest people you've ever met? yeah, no, that's not possible

you'll list out a million and one ways in which arthur is the kindest and he'll finally slump into your side with a defeated huff and a "and yet you're still kinder"

its about six months into your relationship when you discover a new insecurity of arthur's

sure, you weren't upset about receiving all the lovely flowers and gifts and adoring affection that arthur lavished upon you, but you were confused by it all

because, really, it came out of nowhere

until you overheard him asking charles for advice on how to be more loving towards you

you'd interrupted the phone call and wished charles a good day before hanging up and telling arthur that he was loving enough and he didn't need to do anything to impress you because you were already thoroughly impressed and in love with him

like hello?! he already has you, after all

and that is the biggest thing that makes arthur's insecurities sink and melt away - he has you and you love him for him

and that's all that matters!

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hewaaa!! Is your OC related to Director Crowley, The Maleficent crow or something? I saw your design and I found it really interesting 🩵🖤

While Miss Raven and Crowley share many visual similarities + she considers him her legal guardian and family, they’re not actually blood-related! She just showed up at NRC’s doorstep own day and Crowley took her under his wing as his “niece”. In truth, Crowley became acquaintances with Raven’s previous caretaker during his travels. That person—the “Storyteller”—knew that he would soon pass away, so he asked Crowley to please look after his ward for him.

One thing I love about Twst is how even if the inspiration for a character seems obvious at a glance (like Ace is obviously twisted from the Ace of Hearts card soldier), they can embody the traits of other characters (for example, Ace acts like Alice in that he constantly defies the Queen of Hearts). Miss Raven is technically twisted from an Alice in Wonderland riddle that was intended to have no answer... but I wanted my OC to also draw from multiple sources so that they also feel “real” and like they “fit in” the world of Twst.

(By the way!! There’s an excellent post on the Twst subreddit that discussed how Crowley is inspired by various iconic Disney birds. I’d recommend giving it a read; it’s fascinating!)

I integrated aspects of Diablo and the Evil Queen’s ravens in Miss Raven’s relationships with the equivalent Twst characters, Malleus and Vil. Diablo is Maleficent’s only competent minion, performing a number of important tasks on her behalf. Raven and Malleus aren’t familiar with one another, but she does play a key role in that she delivers the notes from the dorm leader meetings he misses. Malleus believes that she is brave to approach him (does this make them friends???), so he had assumed a strange self-proclaimed “mentor” role. He sometimes flags her down and attempts to socialize (key word: attempts) but more often than not he ends up hovering like a sleep paralysis demon… Rave has to wonder if Malleus-senpai is in need of something.

The Evil Queen’s ravens is only on screen for like… what, a minute?? And mostly just acts shocked and scared of her transformation potion brewing. This is paralleled in how Raven is intimidated by Vil’s aura, but does manage to get over it eventually to ask him for advice on how to become a “proper lady” herself. He’s the one that taught her a lot about social etiquette and manners in general.

There’s also other Disney and non-Disney references I’ve included in her lore. The backstory of Miss Raven’s guardian (pre-Crowley) is very similar to that of Beast from Beauty and the Beast… She is pessimistic at times, claiming some prospects are impossible or “nevermore” (Edgar Allen Poe)… She lacks confidence, believing she is an “ugly duckling” and wishes to become an elegant and beautiful swan… Tons more; I can’t list them all here!

In a nutshell, yes. There’s a lot more to it than just borrowing the phrase because I happen to like AiW though!

The riddle “why is a raven like a writing desk” comes from the tea party scene in the original Lewis Carroll novel, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Disney translated it over to their animated film, but the riddle makes appearances or is referenced in many other AiW adaptations.

According to Carroll, the riddle was meant to be nonsensical and have no answer. (In the book, the Mad Hatter himself admits, “I haven't the slightest idea,” and then Alice asks about why they are wasting their time with riddles that have no answer.) However, many people have come up with their own absurd answers to the supposedly unanswerable riddle, including: “Poe wrote on both”, “they both stand on sticks”, “they both come with inky quill”, and “because there is a B in both and an N in neither”. Ironically, Carroll was pressured into including an answer in a later edition of his book. His response was, “because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat; and it is never put with the wrong end in front!” In the original version of this preface, “never” was spelled “nevar” (“raven” backwards).

I liked the open-endedness of the question. It keeps the door open to allow for many possibilities and encourages us to explore, to indulge in our curiosity, to experiment and let our unique perspectives shape unique replies to the same riddle. I wanted to run a blog with that kind of a creative spirit. The fact that both writing and ravens are mentioned are serendipity, but it ends up working out really well for what I do here.

My Twst OC, Raven Crowley, is also closely associated with “why is a raven like a writing desk?”. In fact, she’s twisted from the raven in the riddle, and this ties in with her backstory. Because the riddle is just… that, a riddle (and not an actual flesh-and-blood character that does things in the story) with no answer (aimless, open, without direction), Miss Raven’s character reflects that. She is a curious girl always seeking out new experiences. but she lacks self-confidence, believing that she isn’t a “main” character, just a supporting role or even a background character. Her story is that of finding her own strength, learning to become confident in her own identity, and taking charge of her own destiny—even if she’s unsure of where the winding oath may take her.

It’s all connected! ^^

[fvsm4x]

Hii! Can I request any jjk men with a best friend! reader who wears a mask to hide their face bcs they think its ugly? (its up to u if u want sfw or not!)

#PRETTIEST [Gojo S. and Geto S.]

SUMMARY: Since you were a child, you‘ve always hated the way you look, so- you started wearing a mask.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader x Geto Suguru , hurt with comfort , insecurity , fluff.

— WORD COUNT: 1.3k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa

— A/N: AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST I HAD TO WRITE IT IMMEDIATELY AFTER I FINISHED WRITING MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE!! SORRY IF ITS SHORT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

Since you were a small child, you always hated the way you looked. Your nose, cheeks, and moles were constant sources of self-consciousness, and you despised the way you appeared in general. It was as if a dark cloud of insecurity constantly loomed over you, casting a shadow on your self-esteem.

Around the age of 7, it all began. You were just an innocent child, excited to go to school like any other kid. You possessed a unique ability that set you apart from your classmates - you could see curses, dark entities that others couldn’t perceive.

Every day, as you walked past your classmates, you were subjected to relentless torment. They would push you into the ground, snatch away your books, spill your lunch onto your head, and even steal your clothes during PE. You became a victim of bullying, and the reason behind it was painfully clear - you were deemed ugly.

At that tender age, you couldn’t comprehend the cruelty that surrounded you. You naively believed that this was their way of noticing you or playing with you. But as time went on, the truth slowly revealed itself - they targeted you because of your appearance, because you were considered ugly in their eyes.

It was during this dark period that you began to wear a mask, hoping that it would shield you from the relentless bullying. The mask became your armor, a tangible barrier that protected you from the perceived flaws you couldn’t bear to face. It became a part of your identity, an integral aspect of who you were. With the mask on, you felt a sense of safety, as if you were hiding your true self from the scrutinizing eyes of the world.

There wasn’t a single moment when you ventured outside without your mask. But despite the mask’s protective facade, deep down, you longed to be accepted for who you truly were.

It was during this challenging time that you crossed paths with your best friends, Geto and Gojo. Fate brought the three of you together on a fateful day as you were walking home from school. They witnessed your ability to kill a low-grade curse, and in that moment, they knew that you were like them - you could see curses just as they could.

This serendipitous encounter changed the course of your life. You made the decision to leave your previous school and join the same school as Geto and Gojo, hoping that this new environment would provide a fresh start, free from the torment of your past.

In the same class as Geto and Gojo, there was another girl who exuded beauty effortlessly. Her flawless skin, perfect facial structures, and the charming mole beneath her eye made her the epitome of perfection. Secretly, you couldn’t help but feel jealous of her. You longed to possess the same level of beauty and radiance, but you kept your jealousy hidden beneath a facade of indifference.

As the months passed, your bond with Geto and Gojo grew stronger. You began to address them by their first names, just as they did with you. It seemed like everything was going well, until one fateful day when a simple request shattered the fragile equilibrium you had created.

The three of you were gathered in Geto’s dorm, engrossed in a movie, when Gojo’s curious gaze fell upon your mask. His innocent question pierced through your defenses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

“Say, y/n… could we see your face?” he inquired, his finger pointing towards the mask that concealed your true self.

In that moment, the smile that had adorned your face behind the mask vanished, replaced by a mixture of apprehension and fear. You locked eyes with Gojo, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

“We’ve been friends for quite some time now, and I can’t recall a single moment where you haven’t worn that mask. You even wear it while you sleep!” he continued,

Your gaze dropped, unable to meet their expectant eyes. It was true - you had never once removed the mask in their presence. You only allowed it to come off when you brushed your teeth or washed your face. The thought of revealing your true face to them filled you with an overwhelming sense of dread. You feared that they would be repulsed by your appearance, that they would abandon you once they saw the real you, the one you believed to be ugly.

“That’s true, y/n. If you have a larger injury or something, we won’t judge. We just want to see how pretty you look behind the mask,” Geto chimed in,

Pretty.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you with its expectations. They anticipated beauty, but what if you took off your mask and shattered their illusions? What if they saw the imperfections that plagued your self-image? The mere thought of their potential rejection was unbearable.

But why do you care so much about their opinion?

The reason was because you had fallen in love with both Geto and Gojo. Despite knowing that you were seemingly out of their league, your heart couldn’t help but beat faster whenever you were around them. You had tried to suppress these feelings, but they persisted, refusing to be ignored.

“I promise, Y/N, whatever you’re hiding won’t change a thing between us,” Gojo spoke, his voice filled with sincerity as he positioned himself in front of you. Geto, too, reached out and gently took your hands in his larger ones.

“Please, trust us,” Geto pleaded,

You found it difficult to resist their pleading gazes. Taking a deep breath, you finally relented, “Fine, but I warn you, it’s not what you expect.”

As the mask slipped away, revealing your face, you closed your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for the inevitable disappointment and rejection. You didn’t want to hear the people you loved utter the same hurtful words that had haunted you in the past.

But then, to your astonishment, Gojo’s voice broke the silence, filled with genuine awe, “Unbelievable! This is beyond stunning; it’s mesmerizing.”

Did you hear correctly? Mesmerizing? He didn’t say the word “ugly”? You cautiously opened your eyes, only to be met with Gojo’s intense gaze. He was staring at your face, his cheeks flushed with a deep blush. In that moment, you realized that he found you stunning, not repulsive. He was captivated by your appearance.

“I knew you were hiding a masterpiece under there, but this… it’s like you walked out of a dream,” Geto spoke, his hands tightening around yours,

Confusion and disbelief washed over you as you struggled to comprehend their reactions. “I don’t understand… why aren’t you saying I look ugly?” you murmured, your eyes flickering between the two of them.

“Ugly?” Gojo scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. “That’s impossible. You’re the epitome of beauty, and we’re lucky to witness it.”

“Whoever said that you’re ugly clearly is blind,” Geto chimed in, removing his hands from yours and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “Because you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you widened them in shock. The tears began streaming down your face as a genuine smile spread across your lips. You were overwhelmed by their words and the overwhelming surge of emotions that flooded your heart.

Suddenly, a hand crept around your waist, and you looked down to see Gojo smiling up at you, resting his head on your lap.

“You guys…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as more tears continued to flow down your cheeks, landing on Gojo’s face beneath you.

A hand gently cradled your jaw, turning your head to the side, and you found yourself meeting Geto’s intense gaze. He brought his lips to your face, tenderly kissing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he murmured,

© fvsm4x do not repost!

[ashipiko]

DANCE WITH ME YOU LI-IA-IAR ♡

OVERBLOT ASHI??? ANYBODY??? the ANGST that this baby can store!!! SHEESH!!!!!!! <3 I only have one post dedicated to her and liar dance lyric analysis (the post is kinda outdated in gen) BUT…… I also have an overblot monologue as a treat 🫶 I wanted to better explain her angst and so!!! BABAM!!! enjoy

ASHI’S MONOLOGUE:

Sometimes I wonder why I ended up here.

A place named “Twisted Wonderland”, and at a school named “Night Raven College”.

At first, I figured that I was the odd one out— Y’know, the Ramshackle prefect and everything. The magicless girl at the magical all boys school? Nuts, ain’t it?

I’m known for a lot of things. Things that are different from the others. The fact that I stand out is part of the Ashi charm, something I’m known for.

But… Over time I found myself sorta feeling in place here.

Because as much as I try to believe it, I can’t safely say that I’m better than anyone else here.

I’m a fake. I make conversation and lots of friends, but for what? A backup in case something goes wrong? A sense of protection for my reputation? In what case are any of those friendships something I truly want? In what case are any of these strings more than just a tool instead of a thread made of my real feelings?

Behind this, I’m no different from any other student here. Even through my individuality, my cheerfulness, my endearing oddness… I’m still a horrible person. Using people to get what I want, toying with people and their feelings in order to gain power and gain a spot the top. All to become untouchable. It’s screwed. It’s not right.

My insides are ugly. The truth of me is something I want to keep tucked away deeply, because I don’t want people to see this part of me. A brash, annoying, selfish version of me, everything people hate to see. I don’t want this side of me to be seen because people will run away— people I don’t care much about, sures, but people I love, too. I don’t want to drive them away. So I keep quiet and give them a shallow show.

I give them a source of entertainment that’s controlled by the real me, every calculated movement translating into a marionette-like response. The only show I allow you to see is one that’s so carefully crafted by the chaotic clown backstage. The one that is shunned away from the light, the strings being the only hint of the puppet’s phony existence to the foolish audience.

But suddenly, I feel as if being here has started to let this side of me come crawling back into the spotlight.

It scares me.

It scares me to be vulnerable, let all of my faults lay out on the table like playing cards. To take the risk without the protection, to gamble everything I’ve built up away just like that. But you…

You.

You make me feel safe. You make me feel as if I don’t need to hide anything. I can give you the key to my heart and you would have no malicious intent. You wouldn’t cut out the parts people don’t like. You would enjoy the performance in full, every bit of it.

You make me believe that I’m nothing special, and yet something so valuable at the same time.

It’s silly. You’re silly. And yet that’s something that’s helped me.

It’s helped me realize that that truly is just how people are.

We aren’t villains. We aren’t antagonists. We aren’t monsters.

We are nothing but people, with faults and feelings that should be valued.

I am more than just a jester, a sake of entertainment.

I’m a person who is entirely worthy of love. All of me.

It reminds me that I must’ve came here for a reason.

Because this is where I belong.

[http-ducky]

"Dove in The Crows Nest: A Love and Deepspace Story"

Chapter 1: Mourning

Luke + Kieran x Reader

SUMMARY: Before the Chrososhift Catastrophe that led to the opening of the Deepspace tunnel, your home was normal. You had loving parents, lived in a lovely house, and played with the neighbor boys almost daily. There was no way you could've known that your simple life would be destroyed. Torn apart by energy fluctuations and monsters that killed anything that moved. Your family left you behind, lost in the panic. By all means, you should be dead. A toddler left behind in the remnants of a once bustling technology hub, now overrun with wanderers and criminals-it's the perfect tragedy. But you weren't dead; against all odds, you survived thanks to the boys you once played with: Luke and Kieran. Their adaptability protected you and guided you whenever you were lost. Thanks to them, you live to fight another day, and you owe them more than you might realize. Now it's your turn to protect them. To prove your worth and not only survive but thrive. Show them that you are worth fighting for, and show yourself that you are stronger than you know.

A few warnings just in case: This chapter covers graphic descriptions of minor character death and goes into detail about the reader's experiences with disassociating to escape a situation mentally, being aggressively pulled out of that dissociative state, having a loose grip on reality, and PTSD induced night terrors that might trigger readers with dissociative disorders or anxiety. Please read with care.

A/N: Quite a few lines and scenes are taken from the LADS wiki or Luke & Kieran's World Underneath Anecdotes: Mischief to make the story feel as immersive as possible. They're pretty easy to spot if you've read Mischief or played the game up to Long-Awaited Revelry: Ambiguous Chaos (which I'm pretty sure you have if you're reading this), but just in case those lines and scenes are credited to Infold and the writers of Love & Deepspace, and a big thanks to the LADS wiki for being the backbone of the world building.

FYI: With what I have planned for this story, the lovey-dovey stuff probably isn't going to start until WAY later, so…slow burn? These first few chapters will primarily establish the reader's place in the story, their relationship with the twins, their experiences growing up in the N109 zone, and setting up the main storyline. I hope you enjoy my attempt at world-building (???) As always, criticism is appreciated!!!

Image Source: 饱饱家的小画家 ❤️

Being abandoned by society wasn't ideal. There weren't many outstanding role models to look up to after the smoke had cleared and any sensible adults decided to evacuate. Considering how many pets and children were left behind, however, it isn't easy to think there were any sensible adults in the first place. Perhaps all the chronoshift did was peel away the pretty facade the city put over itself. Hiding away the ugly truth that nothing good ever came from this place. Just selfish people and their selfish ideologies. 'If you throw away all morality and compassion, was it really all that bad?' At least, that's what the twins kept telling you. Those two adapted quicker to what your home had turned into than you ever could. Weirdly, they seemed…happier? Or it was that their boredom was now easier to satiate, what with all the violence and death that permeated the very air you breathed. It was hard to wake up in the morning without finding a life-threatening catastrophe to fight for survival against. Whether it was wanderers or flesh and blood, the only common courtesy found in these streets was the imminent threat of death.

Luke and Kieran were twin boys who lived next to you back when the N109 was still a typical city. In their panic, the adults, your parents, abandoned the city in mass hysteria. You always hoped it was due to their fear that they left you behind. Lost in the panic of it all, their minds prioritized their survival over risking the consequences of trying to save infant children, but the boys always said it must have been because they didn't want you. Any of you. You remember watching the news while in hiding, sitting in your ruined bedroom with them, curled into a blanket as all three of you watched the mass memorial broadcasted to mourn the lost children left behind, presumed dead. You remember frantically searching for your parents' faces in the crowd, looking for one last chance of closure. You didn't find them.

Ultimately, the three of you decided to stick together, recognizing that your chances of survival would be better than if you split. And it did; that first year, you saw kids' and adults' bodies alike strewn across the streets when it was your turn to gather food and supplies, torn apart by the wanderers in a brutal display. You ran home, holding in your tears, hoping a wanderer wouldn't catch you, too. The boys didn't make you go out again after that. You all were so young when "the Catastrophe" happened. Fragments of memories replay in your mind, often plaguing you with night terrors of the things you experienced. Things no child should go through.

They always start as nightmares. You were six in this dream when wanderers still roamed most areas. It was a nicer day, quieter than usual, thanks to the efforts of the newly formed hunters association. You and Luke decided to go outside to play while Kieran was getting food. You were playing catch, and Luke had thrown the ball too hard for you to get a grab on it, so it flew to the other side of the street. He teased you for having slippery hands, and you stuck your tongue at him as you ran off to get it. It had rolled into a bush that separated the subdivisions; a familiar roundabout would be on the other side. That's when you saw her—a hunter fighting with the biggest wanderer you had ever seen: its looming figure and the singular red eye was enough to burn its image into your retinas.

She was severely injured, the hunter; her face was covered in blood, and her leg looked to be bent in the wrong direction. You could see its bone pierce through her muscle and flesh, its foul scent almost reaching you. Every step she took looked painful, a hiss pushed from between her teeth every time she dodged or ran, but she still had her pistol pointed at the monster. You swore you could see tears falling down her cheeks, mimicking your own that stung your eyes whenever your lids threatened to close. Adrenaline flushed blood to your ears; you could hear your heartbeats pulse from your ear drum. The muscle in your chest wanted to jump out of your chest and run away, and you with it if your circulation could reach your legs. Its methodical rhythm only emphasized the unbearable pressure, like your skull would pop if you dared to look away.

Miss Hunter fought hard. Despite how much pain she was in, despite the wet reflections from the pools of her own blood, she fought. You could almost see yourself; you could stare at the mirror image she left in the murky, rusted brown of her blood and find another little girl fighting for the right to live. The irony wasn't lost on you, even despite your underdeveloped brain. She was losing this fight; she was putting in everything her humanity could give and losing. The banging of gunshots made you jump every time she squeezed the trigger. Its violent sound made your head hurt; your ears began to ring so loudly that you had to cover them and crouch over in an attempt to ease the pain. The shadows of their fight almost looked like dancing in a child's mind. Their twists and turns, her flailing to find stable ground to aim as the monster swung and scratched and clawed and bit. If you imagined hard enough, the woman's screams became singing, the monster's roars were the wind, and the blood that stained your hands and knees was just the paint for the roses. If you could escape into your very own wonderland, then maybe Luke and Kieren could come find you. Perhaps you could finally leave this terrible, awful place. Maybe you could be free and happy with the two people you loved the most. The snapping sound was just a twig; those sudden loud noises were birds, and the stream of reddish-brown liquid that began to pool at your feet was the river of tea. It was wacky and weird here, but it was safe. You were safe. They were safe…

But you just couldn't dream hard enough, could you, Alice?

All it took to shatter your carefully curated reality was a single, curious glance up: to find the Jabberwocky tear the white queen apart, her pristine dress and hair ruined by your tea. Because this was real, and you weren't in Wonderland. There was no magic cake to make you taller, just as her arm was no longer attached to her body. You couldn't make a magic potion to make you the size of a mouse, just the same as how you couldn't mend the bone that snapped so cleanly on her other leg. The Cheshire cat, his grin so pointed and fun, couldn't guide your way any more than you could guide your eyes away from hers. That moment, she saw you, and you saw her. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was silent in her death when the monster snapped its jaws shut, tearing her torso from her waist. You, too, watched in silence as her now still body rolled on the ground, her arm still outstretched towards you. The part of you that wanted to still believe in your fairytale told you she was sleeping, exhausted from her fight, and getting some well-deserved shut-eye. But the other part of you, the part that remembered, took all of five seconds to rewire your brain again. Your hands shot up to your mouth to cover any screams that threatened to come out, just like Keiren taught you.

In reality, you don't quite remember how long you stayed there, watching the corpse's eyes stare into your soul as her blood pooled around her remaining body and stained the grass red. It must have been a while because, by the time the wanderer was finally satisfied with the state it left her in and disappeared, Kieran had returned from scavaging and joined Luke in searching for you. It was nightfall when they found you in that bush, and it only took one side glance from Luke at what you were locked in staring at and a nudge to Kieran's side that they agreed to ditch the ball in favor of heading home. In the terrible nightmare world of your dreams, however, you couldn't help it. Your terror and lack of ability to run away made you scream. A shrill, bloodcurdling kind of scream that couldn't be held back by a child's hand. And the wanderer heard you; how could it not? Your cries rang in your ears well out of your dream as you awoke in your bed and could still see, hear, and feel the wanderer's breath, the metallic scent of blood on its maws covering your face. The upper half of that hunter is in its jaws, trying to claw her way out. You could almost feel her fingertips trying to caress your skin while her wails of agony overlap your own. The lines between fiction and reality have blurred to the point where you can't tell what's real anymore. Was this another intruder upon your wonderland, or should you pray to whatever god would listen for the chance to finally feel at peace?

"WHAT IS IT? WHOOSE THERE!?" The door to your room flew off its hinges as Luke and Kieran burst in, holding darts and a wooden bat while wildly searching the room for any signs of an intruder. When it was evident that, in fact, nothing was there, Luke was the first to run to you to try and calm you down. He wrapped his arms around you, pushed your head into his chest, and squeezed, effectively covering your eyes and ears. You tried to toss and shove him away, still fearful of the monster that you could no longer see. Your nails dug into his arms as you tried to push them away from you with all your might. But he didn't budge, only held on higher so you could hear his heartbeat from his chest. A reminder that he was still there, that none of what you saw was real. Kieran sat next to you on the mattress and softly rubbed your back while he called your name to try and coax you back to reality. "( )? ( ) it's okay; it's just us in here. There's nothing over there." And while the comfort of their gentle tones and touch did help, the imagined scent of blood being quickly replaced by the real thing certainly didn't.

It was only until your breath began to even and you whispered to Luke that it was getting difficult to breathe that he finally let you go. As you began rubbing away any tear stains left on your face (and quietly chastising yourself for the apparent discoloration of Luke's shirt), you lifted your head to get a good look at them. Their faces, shirts, and arms were covered in cuts, bruises, and blood. Your heart dropped as your panic-ridden brain imagined they were like the hunter: vengeful ghosts haunting your dreams for being weak, but again, when the logical side of your brain kicked in, the thought was quickly thrown away. After taking a few deep breaths, as ordered by Kieren, you looked around for your clock. "What time is it…?" "Three AM," they answered in unison. Luke backed up to stand next to his brother; you got a better look at the two as their identical eyes did the same to you.

Thankfully, they didn't seem too hurt, and most of the blood didn't look to be theirs. Keiran had his hair tied up behind him, giving you a better view of his massive black eye, while Luke's unruly hair stayed down in an attempt to cover the busted lip you saw peeking through the strands. You sigh. "How was the fighting ring?" Kieran was the first to speak. "They said we couldn't join because we were 'too skinny' or something-." You vaguely recalled last night when the two of them came home angry because something didn't go according to plan. Luke's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he went to finish his twin's sentence. "So we beat up all the other fighters; that way, they had no choice but to let us in." Naturally.

You scooted over to Keiran at the edge of the bed and placed a hand over his chest, closing your eyes when a soft glow radiated from your palm. When you were twelve, you learned you were an Evolver: someone who obtained a special superpower, known as an Evol, only possessed by a small portion of the human population. You were "lucky" enough to have been born with a potent healing Evol, which came in handy with the maniacs in your life who seemed to always be in some danger as of late. So, like all things in the N109 zone, it became part of a deal. They protected you and let you stay with them; in return, you'd heal their injuries. The boys didn't seem to develop any powers, something they would often whine about; you saw that as a blessing. They got themselves into enough trouble as it is without adding magical powers into the mix.

"Sooo…" Luke began, "What was that?" Kieran gave Luke a pointed look as he put his hands up in defense. "What? I'm the only one who thought the screams of bloody murder were weird?" Kieran's wounds fully healed, and you beckoned Luke to come closer, putting your hand on his chest as well when he stood before you. "It was nothing. Just another nightmare." They looked at each other in a silent exchange. You were always jealous of how they could do that, have entire conversations with each other, and not need to say a word. A simple glance and they were on the same page. Most people could only wish to have that sort of connection in their lifetime, you included.

"Been getting those a lot lately; did something happen? Wanna talk about it…?" You couldn't tell which twin had asked you, not that it mattered. The answer would be the same. There was no way you could risk proving your weakness to them and risk getting left behind. They were strong and had each other; they didn't need you. You were safe as long as you continued to prove your value, so regardless of how you might feel, you couldn't tell them anything. You owed it to them.

You shook your head again in silent denial and quickly moved on from the subject, so they didn't have time to bring it back up. Something that would distract them: "All this to try and kill Onychinus's boss…you two really are crazy. Aren't you worried he might hurt you? Or worse…?" Kieran pulled out one of his darts and began fiddling with it. "It's not like we have much to lose; might as well make the most of it. Go big or go home, right?" You furrowed your brows at his lax attitude towards the subject. "Your lives? Each other?" 'Me?' You could only think of the last part. As much as you wished they cared for you half as much as you did for them, you knew they only had room in their hearts for each other and their own amusement.

They looked at each other and laughed. "We're on borrowed time anyway, aren't we? Might as well go out with a bang!" Luke's words felt like one of Kieran's darts shot straight into your heart. "Yeah!" Kieran continued, "We should count ourselves lucky to be killed by him; better that than risk transforming into one of those…things." You tighten at every word they speak. They were right, probably, but that didn't mean the reality of the situation hurt any less.

Two years ago, when you were fourteen, a group from an illegal research facility started gathering up as many kids roaming the streets of the N109 as they could. They were looking for test subjects to experiment with the effects of protocore enhancement and embedding those protocores into human specimens, trying to see if the cosmic energy residing in protocores could force an Evol or somehow augment a pre-existing one. Kids of the N109 were the perfect targets, already considered forgotten tragedies; no one would miss them or notice they were gone. For two years, you were separated. Luke and Kieran were taken to a facility whose specialty was powerless twins; from what they told you, they each had half of a protocore lodged in their hearts. Their connection surpassed the subconscious, and now they felt everything together. See from each other's eyes, feel what each other feels. Their pain was shared, split between the two of them. Some part of you tried to find the bright side: that at least this way, neither one of them would feel alone in their suffering. You couldn't help how your skin crawled, however, imagining waking up from the procedure and suddenly seeing double, feeling double, hurting twice as much as faceless researchers poked and prodded at you to see if your brother could feel the same. You shook in anger every time you thought of it. Stupid people and their stupid misconceptions about twins.

Truthfully, you couldn't quite remember what happened to you. It was like you spent two years falling in and out of sleep. If you thought hard enough, you could place the blinding lights of the operating table, the stale scent of the room you always seemed to wake up in, and the blurry faces of children and doctors alike asking you questions, but no matter what you did you can't seem to recall what they were about. You couldn't regain yourself until days after Luke and Kieran broke you out and managed to escape. You broke into tears the first time you saw yourself in a mirror. The boys had mugged some people for money and took you to a clothing store to get out of the rags the lab kept you in. They randomly handed you some clothes to try on and shoved you into a dressing room while they "handled the store owner" (as they put it). Your feelings overwhelmed you when you turned around to check yourself in the mirror, and your face and body were completely different from how you remembered. You were taller and built differently from the way you were before. Your hands roamed your face and skin while trying to find some sense of normalcy, something recognizable, but you couldn't find anything. You tugged and scratched at your arms and cheeks, making red marks with every passing of your nails. You scratched so hard that you drew blood from your forearms, but not even the hue looked the same as it dripped onto the floor. You don't remember when you screamed or when you fell to your knees. When you sobbed and broke the mirror in fear of what you were looking at.

The twins flung the curtain off its rack to find you curled into a corner, broken and scared. Only then did you think of getting a good look at their faces and seeing that they, too, had changed. Whereas before, you stood a few inches above them, they now were a good foot taller than you. And while their faces still mimicked each other, there was something so decidedly different that, for a moment, you thought there was no way it could be them. Their smiles weren't the same, and their eyes had lost their playful glint. Before another wave of despair could wash over you, they grabbed your arms and ran out of the store without a word. That night, the three of you discussed each other's experiences with the experiments…and you discovered that two years of your life were gone. Forever.

It'd only been a few weeks since the three of you escaped, hiding in a small abandoned house you temporarily called home. Most buildings in the N109 Zone were renovated from previously derelict structures. In the shadows, where neon lights from the bustling streets can't reach, it was easy to find a vacant space that wasn't too dilapidated. However, A few days ago, they returned to you with a document they 'found' with their names on it. It described their procedure, the effects, and…their estimated time of death

Three months. Their bodies were rejecting the protocore, and it was predicted that they had three months to live before becoming…something. Not quite wanderer, not quite human. When you asked them what this transformation would entail, they wouldn't elaborate, just insisting that allowing themselves to undergo it was out of the question. It was the first time in a long time that you could recall genuinely seeing them scared. But before you could process the words enough to react, Luke ripped the papers from your hand and threw them out the window before telling you their master plan: they were going after Sylus, the unofficial head of the N109 zone.

You had reminded them multiple times of the stories you heard growing up about his influence and power; nobody could lay a finger on him, but they would wave you off and tell you the same thing they were telling you now. Once, when trying to convince them to give up on this fruitless adventure, they asked you if you could heal them. If whatever experiment was done on you could stabilize the protocores in their hearts. You didn't think they could have that much hope in you, but you didn't know. You didn't know what had been done to you, and you didn't know if it affected your Evol at all. It was the only thing that felt the same as before.

Which brought you back to the present: Your fingers started to sting while the last of Luke's wounds closed up, and you shook your hand away as the burning sensation subsided. You didn't bother looking up at him when you stood up from bed. "I'm gonna go get some water." Luke's eyes lit up at your statement, and he dashed out of the room to the ice machine. Kieran groaned and rolled his eyes at the sound of his brother rummaging around for the best block. You couldn't help the tug of a smile from the corner of your lips when you watched them. They are so similar, yet so different.

You once asked Luke why he loved ice so much, and apparently, during one of their escape attempts they got caught by the guards, and Kieran ended up getting beaten up so badly that he ended up with a mouthful of blood. They were stuck in solitary confinement for two weeks because they refused to reveal how they managed to get out, and Kieren denied all medical treatment. But because they're connected, Luke also had to suffer despite having already healed. The ice was initially numb to the pain that wasn't his own, and it later developed into a thrill for the cold. Kieran, after his two-week confinement, had taken the lesson to heart. The day his punishment ended, he exacted his revenge with a dart he made. After that, crafting darts became a hobby. Yet another instance of change that happened without you ever knowing about it.

Luke was already crunching away at his ice cubes and waiting for more when you poured a water bottle into a glass and topped it off with ice. Luke scooped up two cubes as they fell, popped them into his mouth, and then turned back to his brother, who was now sitting on the couch. "You want some ice?" but Kieran waved his hand in dismissal. "Ice reminds me of when I got beat up. I'll pass." Laughter filled the room as Luke tossed an ice cube at Kieran before plopping onto the couch and crossing his legs. "Serves you right." His twin looks down at the ice cube in his hand with a frown before dropping it on the ground, making Luke whine about 'wasting a perfectly good ice cube.'

You drank your water and sat on the floor beneath them, leaning against the couch frame. The room was silent, except for the ice melting in your glass and Luke's crunching. There was comfort in the quiet. For a moment, it was like you were fourteen again. All the wanderers were wiped out, the hunters' association had officially deemed you no-hunt zone 109, and you had each other. All you had to do was stick together and survive. In that memory, nothing else mattered.

"We're going back tomorrow." Kieran leaned back against the cushions and reached his arms above him. "Fourth rule of a successful ambush: swiftly abandon flawed tactics and use new strategies to confuse your opponent!" you stared down at your now empty glass in quiet contentment. You knew what he was referring to: "The Four Rules of A Succesful Ambush!" was something you used to read in a comic book about spies when you were younger. They loved it so much that they began to use them as their own. You doubted that the silly rules used to fight comic book villains would work on the real threat they were going after. You could hardly manage to mumble out a meek "What's the plan…?" without the threat of tears rolling down your face again. If they had noticed your struggle, they wouldn't have mentioned it. Instead, choosing to continue with a level of excitement that didn't match the conversation topic.

Luke punches the air in front of him: "We're gonna pretend to want to be his subordinates! Then, when he least expects it, we'll stab him in the back!" He makes a gesture with his fists to mimic the action of stabbing someone as his other hand goes to give his brother a high-five. You could only give a hum in response. You could say something about how Sylus had likely seen this tactic before, what with being the most extended running boss in the N109's history, and that they were almost certain to fail. You wanted to tell them to stop, to give up on this adrenaline high, and stay with you where it was safe. You could crawl on your knees and beg them to return to the way things were before, one last chance to feel some sense of normalcy before the only friends you'd ever known and your only source of protection from this damnable place were gone forever. But you couldn't. You couldn't be so selfish as to take away their last chance at feeling some sense of purpose before it'd be taken away. So you stood up from the floor, leaving behind your empty glass, and went back to the room to sleep. From behind you, you could hear one of the boys stand up and call out to you; their voice almost seemed strained, "Night ( )!" Kieran.

You didn't bother to look over your shoulder; it was too painful to think this would be the last time you'd ever see them again. Instead, you nodded your head and walked away. "Goodnight, Kieran…Luke. Good luck tomorrow; I'll be here when you get back…"

Did you know you could've read this sooner? Chapters get posted earlier on my A03 page! Chapter 2 is already out!!!

[larsthefishoil]

As I'm actively reflecting on the new hbomberguy video, but more specifically James Somerton, certain things are clicking into place with resounding clarity.

I've watched Somerton's videos for years. At first I thought he was kinda overly dramatic, and had outdated stances on how little lgbtq+ was seen in modern day. He always seemed to talk like we are still living in the danger of the 80s with staight/cis people's apathy and hatred. In truth the phobias have just shifted in how they present and things have genuinely improved in a sense.

But the thing that is actually getting to me rn is the misogyny thing. I think he actually injected really shitty thoughts into my brain that I absorbed like a fucking kitchen sponge. He's protectiveness over queer people but specifically gay men from "prevented white women" actually got to me. For over a year, I was walking around occasionally thinking about how "women are sneaking BL manga into their bedrooms and grotesquely drooling."- im not citing someone theres quoteation marks cause its a dumb thought. But i thought this because that's how bad Somerton made it seem.

But the thing that got me out of that head space was this video by talistheintrovert.

https://youtube.com/@talistheintrovert?si=vmpEa_TPP2UE9eQk - here's the link to her homepage on YouTube.

https://youtu.be/08pCrSBw5EY?si=bECaT_xC16IfN5TI - vid about Good Omens

https://youtu.be/zzSlRZhS_qY?si=unQzSbCQUaTqhSbv - Heartstopper vs. Only Friends

sorry for the ugly link I'm on mobile.

I forget their pronouns so I'm using they/them but I might be wrong. I watched a lot of their videos all at once, so a lot of their ideas interlinked between videos to connect points. But they frequently talked about how straight and queer people interact with queer media and the complexities that unfold. Their underlying message was always that an individual's sexuality doesn't matter when interacting with media when it comes to gatekeeping who gets to appreciate queer content. Still most people consuming are queer people, but straight cis people also benefit and that's okay, it's great even.

Talistheintrovert shooed away icky feelings of straight women fetishizing queer men, which was a fear I got from James Somerton!

Idk this is a long post, but hbomberguy's ending soliloquy about trying to find happiness kinda reminds me of the many countless queer YouTube channels- big and small. Most of us aren't clawing for the position of top dog and like Somerton and seem a lot happier dispit of everything going on nowadays.

Anyways, stay safe, be accepting, and cite your sources or else hbomberguy will have to crawl out of whatever hole he hides in for the better part of each year and make a five hour long video about you :/