#I’m scared and I can’t think of what to do though

[revelboo]

Looking at you with my big ol eyes to politely ask for more Skids whenever you feel in the mood to write for him. That first part was just so gooood I keep thinking about it ;u;

Sure

Hysteria

IDW Skids x Reader

• Cringing and almost dropping you as you slump against his servos, still making that awful gagging sound as he runs up the ramp while the others cover him. Looking down, he shudders. “I know you’re really stressed, but if you don’t stop purging, I’m going to be doing it, too. Nobody wants that,” he mutters trying to find someone to hand you off to as the last bot makes it back aboard and Rodimus runs for the bridge. Seeing him staring at them hopefully, everyone backs away from him and you. Wanting nothing to do with the mess or the smell. Awkwardly rubbing a servo against your spine, he roughly clears his vents. “Please, stop? Anyone know how to fix this?”

• Throat raw, you lay your cheek against the giant robots hand and cut your eyes up at him. Because you’d been able to understand him. At least you can ask him what he’s going to do to you, those other aliens either couldn’t understand you or didn’t care. They definitely hadn’t been as gentle as he is. Feeling him rub your back and the unhappy worry in his voice eases some of the terror. He wouldn’t care that you’re upset if he was just going to hurt you, right? “I want to go home.”

• Now Tailgate and Trailbreaker, the only two not driven off by your purging take the opportunity to bail on him, knowing you’re going to have to be told that you can’t go home and wanting no part of it. Cowards. And you can’t go home, at least, not yet and that’s not going to go over well. Glaring at their retreating backs, he uses a servo to nudge your hair away from your face and his servo lingers seeing a nasty yellow bruise on your neck. Is that a bite?Venting softly, he wishes he’d shot more of them. Those tired eyes stare up at him, much calmer. No, resigned. Though he’s pretty sure that’s about to change. “So, about that? We’re on a mission and far from Earth, but I promise I’ll try to get you back.” Eventually. Not wanting to tell you it might be years before that happens.

• Eyes closing, you refuse to start bawling. What good would that do? All you can do is hope his promise is worth something. That he’s kinder than your last captors had been. “You’ve been to Earth. Understand my language.” Not really a question, but if there were giant, alien robots on Earth, wouldn’t you have heard about it? That would have definitely made the news unless it was covered up by the government, which wouldn’t really surprise you. “What are you going to do with me?”

• “You’re safe here, there’s other humans onboard. Er, rescues like you. I guess you’ll stay with me for now. I’m Skids.” Not sure how he feels about having a human to care for as you just look up at him, shockingly calm considering the excitement and terror you’d just gone through. But as your eyes stay closed, still not lifting your head from his hand, he hopes that maybe you’re just too exhausted to be scared. There’s no telling what those aliens had done to you before he’d found you or how long they’d had you. Those coverings you’re wearing don’t look like what little he knows of human fashion. Making him wonder if you’re normally this docile or if you’d been broken. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

• Tired down to your bones, you just lay against his servos. Wanting to believe him. Wanting to be safe, not scared anymore. Not hurt. And more than anything else, wanting to sleep. To forget the pain. Curling yourself into his warm hand, he starts stroking your back again as he walks and even though you hate it, you start softly crying.

Previous

[zweiginator]

https://www.tumblr.com/zweiginator/771055292237725696/being-arts-little-sisters-best-friend-and-youve

your mind...being childhood friends with the donaldsons and being so close with art's sister that you've been taken along on little family trips...art's parents let him bring along his best friend patrick too :(

thinking about sleeping over the same night art's having patrick over and pat says something stupid about you coming to "hang out with the big boys"

and patrick is a lot more forthcoming than art would ever be.

“c‘mon,” he tells art, sucking on the end of a cigarette. art is frantically looking underneath the balcony they’re standing on, making sure his parents can’t see what they’re doing.

“worst case scenario she says no.”

art is shaking his head. “she’s my little sister’s best friend—i just feel like it’s a bad idea. like, slimy.”

but patrick can tell he’s just scared of rejection. he hands the cigarette to art and watches him intently, how he draws the smoke into his mouth like an antidote for his anxiety, his overthinking.

“she’s not gonna say no.” patrick says it like he knows it’s true. of course, he could never know, but patrick has a confidence that makes people believe he’s all-knowing, like god or something.

so later that night patrick corners you as you’re ascending the stairs to go to sleep. you had just gotten yourself a glass of water.

“going to bed already?”

art is biting his nails. he’s already upstairs and he wishes he could close his eyes and forget all this ever happened. he could just jerk off to the thought of you like he always does. he mouths to patrick. “what are you doing?”

patrick ignores him. “it’s early.”

“not everyone sleeps in ��til one.”

“come upstairs with us.” patrick holds your arm.

“i’m trying to go upstairs but you’re blocking me.”

“‘cause i want you to hand out with us.”

you try to ignore how patrick’s touch feels like it has ignited something in you. maybe it’s the dry spell you’ve been in or maybe it’s the devious twinkle in his green eyes, how art acts so innocent at the top of the stairs.

“hang out? in art’s room?” you swallow. “and do what?”

patrick’s jaw ticks and he shrugs. “dunno. whatever we want.”

you scoff. “i’m not that kind of girl.” and you don’t like how it sounds coming out of your mouth. you don’t say things like that and you certainly don’t think them either but you know how patrick treats women. you just wanted to get that point across. because something about his height and the flex of his bicep as he leans against the wall that makes girls lose all self respect around him. you don’t want it to happen to you.

but art, art is the opposite. he’s hot, of course, but in a different way. he’s the type of hot where he doesn’t even know it.

“what are you talking about?” patrick lets you past him.

“you know what i’m talking about.”

art butts in, face flustered. “i’m sorry. goodnight.”

“why are you apologizing? it wasn’t you.”

and art grows even redder. it makes you want to poke fun at him.

“oh—“ you stand in his doorway. art is in his room now, patrick behind you. “so you were in on it. you just wanted your friend to do the brunt of the work.”

patrick chuckles.

“i think maybe you need to learn how to ask a girl out yourself.”

“who said we’re asking you out?” patrick’s breath is hot on your neck. “you know what we’re asking you for.”

you turn around. “who the fuck do you think you are?” your heart beats fast and you feel your voice faltering.

patrick gets closer, moving in your personal space. he smells like cigarettes and peppermint gum, a tinge of citrus beer from earlier.

“if you don’t want it, then go to your room. we’ll forget any of this happened.”

and even though you swore you’d maintain your self-respect, you pull patrick in by his collar and don’t say a thing as he shuts the door behind you both.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

The Big Secret (Homelander)

Description: Y/N holds a big secret from Homelander until she can’t anymore.

Word Count: 1,000

Request:Hey, could you write a Homelander x reader fic where the reader is a secret cam girl or stripper and HL finds out.

Y/N sighed as she walked into the club that she worked at. It was nearly 9 pm as she walked to the back of the club to get dressed. She was lying to everyone about what she did at this place. Friends and family think that she was a bartender but they would kill to know the sad truth. She was a stripper.

She slid down the pole every night and gave fat ugly guys lap dances for extra cash. She wasn’t scared of her friends and family’s reaction, it was her boyfriend who had yet to find the truth. She was scared shitless of Homelander finding out that she was lying. If he did know he was waiting to lash out at her. Why is she lying to him? She is ashamed of what she does and knows that he would look down upon her.

The crazy thing was that Homelander hadn’t figured out about her lies yet. He hadn’t had time to stalk her yet with everything going on. But little did she know that a certain somebody was in the club and they would expose the secret to him. Soldier Boy sat at the bar as he watched his son’s girlfriend dance and strip. He had met her once when he and Billy almost killed Homelander. She wasn’t anything special. That was clear as day to him as guys threw money at her. He smirked to himself as he thought of the sick reaction that his son would have.

He knew that she lied to him. She was introduced as his bartending girlfriend. She was doing way more than that right now. Ben pulled out his phone and snapped a few pics and videos of her. Without her knowledge that he was even there. Though the job was degrading she made a lot of money and that was what was important to her. The money. The last thing she wanted to do was rely on her boyfriend for everything.

Ben smirked as the perfect idea came into his head. Why make it such a surprise that he was there? Y/N sighed as she thought another fat ugly guy wanted a dance from her. As she walked through the door her jaw dropped at the smirking good looking guy. She knew him but from where? She walked over to him with caution as he smirked at her. “Where is it that I know you?” She asked as she stood in front of him, arm crossed. “You really don’t remember seeing this pretty face?” He gestured to his face.

She rolled her eyes. “Hey now I’m just surprised you don’t realize is all.” She stared at him for a good few seconds before it clicked. He was the fucking superhero that tried to kill her boyfriend. “YOU.” She nearly yelled and he laughed. “Good! Now that you remember me….Why are you lying to him?” “Why’s it matter to you? You hate him!” He agreed with her. “Sweetheart, he’s gonna kill you if he finds out and it’s gonna be epic.” “I didn’t even do anything to you!” She knew exactly what he was going to do.

He was going to blackmail her. “Here is the deal. You help me and The Boys with taking him down and I won’t show him the video.” He held up the phone and there was a video of her dancing on the pole. She sighed and he smirked at her again. 

She sat across from John at the dinner table and he could tell that something was wrong. She was barely eating and couldn’t even look him in the eyes as they talked. Keeping the secret was already hard but adding everything else was making it worse. “Are you okay?” She looked up at him. “Yeah why?” Her heartbeat increased, she was lying. His eyes narrowed at her.

She swallowed as he stared at her. She looked down at her food and began eating. “You do realize that I can tell when you’re lying, right?” He growled at her. “John.” His hand slammed on the table. “What are you hiding?” He yelled. “I-” “TELL ME!” He yelled again and she started crying. He rolled his eyes but lowered his voice. He hated seeing her cry. It pulled on what heart strings he had left. Or maybe he thought crying was for the weak. Though he did it.

“Y/N, what are you hiding?” He asked, no longer yelling. She swallowed and looked up at him. Her eyes filled with tears and her heart beating so fast. How would he look at her once he found out? Would he throw her out? Kill her even? “I uh” But it was hard to get it out. He motioned for her to spit it out. “I am a stripper.” She yelled. He sat back after her confession. He stared at her as she waited for him to be in disgust but it never came.

“Since when?” He asked. He wasn’t angry. “I’ve been one since before we started dating.” She whispered but he heard it. “What about bartending?” “I lied. I was scared that you would think so low of me and maybe even leave me.” He could tell that she was telling the truth. “You don’t even need to work with me.” He told her and it took everything in her not to roll her eyes.

She didn’t want to rely on him for anything. “I understand that but I like making my own money and not relying on anyone.” She tells him and though he doesn’t like that very much he doesn’t argue. “You’ll have to give me a private show.” He said and she looked at him surprised. “You aren’t mad?” She asked and he shook his head. “No. I mean don’t lie to me again.” There’s the threat. “But I expect to get a private dance.” She smiled a little at his response. But she forgot one thing. Soldier Boy and his plan.

[thrashkink-coven]

Happy Venus day!!! ✴️

Very often I get the question from atheists and sceptics that’s like “what if Lucifer isn’t real? What if he’s just a voice in your head and you’re going crazy? Don’t you ever get nervous that he’s not really there?”

and to be honest it is a fair question, even though it’s usually asked with poor intentions.

My answer to that question would be no, I don’t worry about it, but I’ve definitely thought about it. I think anyone who works with any deities should think about it. Being vigilant and aware of our mental health is one of the most important things to consider as a practitioner. And as someone with close family members who have schizophrenia, I’ve taken the time to do extensive research about hallucinations and dissociative identity disorders. I grew up in a neglectful household and could very well have some mental condition I don’t know about. Considering these things doesn’t scare me, I don’t have any negative stigma towards those with mental health conditions like psychosis. If I truly had DID or something of the sort, I wouldn’t feel betrayed or foolish. I would just know that my brain works somewhat differently and that’s okay. I hate this attitude of “hey are you sure you’re not crazy?” because even if I did have some sort of disorder, I still wouldn’t be crazy. People with disorders are not crazy.

I don’t have hallucinations regularly, but I have experienced them before, so I at least know what warning signs to look out for in my own psychology. For the most part, fantastical experiences or conversations don’t happen in the mundane. I have to put a lot of focus and effort into channeling to have these deities. Lucifer is always with me, but I can’t always see him. If I send him away, he leaves.

In a situation where I discovered that Lucifer really was some kind of dissociative identity or hallucination, it wouldn’t be some life ruining revelation to me. In fact I don’t think it would change all that much. Lucifer’s presence has always been a positive one. He’s never given me paranoid thoughts or encouraged harmful behaviours. If he really was just a voice in my head, we’ll damn, he’s the nicest and wisest voice ever. If it’s really all just me, wow. I’m fucking amazing. How I managed to provide myself with this much guidance and advice is crazy.

and I think that’s the bottom line. Lucifer doesn’t cause me any harm, working with and worshiping him doesn’t bring any negativity into my life, and I he actively encourages me to be healthy and happy. So even if he wasn’t real, I’d still feel comfortable worshiping him. I’d probably still carry on much the same, because he’s only been good to me.

Lucifer is just as much a part of me as any of my spirit guides are. The Lucifer I interact with is a direct reflection of my psychology, my own understandings inform how he appears to me. To converse with him is also to converse with myself.

My work with one of my very first spiritual guides, Archangel Jophiel, was cantered a lot around dissecting and dismembering my scepticism. He really did make me feel crazy, and he forced me to confront my fear of being delusional. If I’m constantly paranoid that none of this is real, every single time I experience something fantastical in my deliberate searching and witchcraft, I would always run away and call myself crazy. At some point I had to accept what I was experiencing and make decisions based on that acceptance.

I just saw something really fucking crazy from Lucifer, I can either spend the rest of my life constantly trying to prove he’s real or fake, or I can just take the experience, decide and keep what’s valuable and leave the rest to speculation.

I say that I’m theistic because my experiences have lead me to believe that these energies really are alive. I do believe that Lucifer exists in reality as an energy and entity, I do believe he’s a real deity and that I’m reaching out to someone other than myself when I work with him. But I don’t know any of this, I just believe so. And I don’t need to know (and I couldn’t know because it’s not provable) because it doesn’t change my everyday reality either way. Living for Lucifer is a philosophy and state of mind. Whether or not the Morning Star hears me, I’ll still praise him, because I just think he’s that awesome. I’ve been lucky enough to get a response, but I cannot prove that to anyone else, and I don’t really care to.

But in ether scenario, I still win. Either I am actually working with him and he loves me and treats me well, or I’ve somehow mastered self deification and have the best case of psychosis ever. Either I’m going on astral journeys with my Gods or I have incredible, like truly phenomenal visualization skills. Either I have a wonderful God constantly looking out for me, or I’m just constantly extremely lucky. Either I have a beautiful altar that my Gods enjoy and appreciate, or I have a beautiful collection of trinkets and treasure that makes me happy every time I play with them. Either way, I’m happier and healthier now than I’ve ever been before.

I appreciate atheistic Luciferians and Satanists because they are proof that the underlying principles and practice still works even if they don’t recognize an actual Lucifer in their gnosis.

Tldr, if you think I’m crazy that’s totally okay. I probably am a little bit crazy. The important part is that I’m not hurting myself or others, not glorifying harmful behaviour or neglecting my mental health. Whether or not Lucifer is real doesn’t matter when I know I’m real.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Part 10

"I don't want to lose you"

The days with Ghost were fleeting, stolen moments wrapped in intensity and uncertainty. In his presence, the rest of the world faded. His touch was firm but reverent, as if he couldn't believe you were real. The way he looked at you, even behind that mask, spoke volumes—possessive, protective, as though you were his only anchor in an unforgiving world.

But his life wasn’t easy to share. Nights were restless; you’d wake up to find him pacing the apartment, his body tense, his mind somewhere else. He didn’t talk much about his missions, but the scars that appeared on his skin told their own story. Every time he left, you didn’t know when—or if—he would return.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, the weight of your uncertain future pressed down on you.

“Do you think we can do this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost turned to you, his dark eyes piercing. “It won’t be easy,” he admitted. “I’ll be gone more than I’m here. I can’t promise you a normal life. Hell, I can’t promise you anything except this.”

He reached out, his gloved hand brushing your cheek. “But I know one thing—I don’t want to lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

Your heart ached at his words, at the raw honesty in his voice. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “But I’m scared, Simon. What if this…what if we aren’t enough?”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. “We’ll make it enough. We’ll fight for it. For us. But you have to tell me now if you’re all in because I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “I can’t do this halfway.”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “I’m in,” you whispered. “I don’t know how, but I’ll make it work. For you. For us.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a sliver of hope.

~~~

Your husband

Your husband’s world had unraveled the moment you walked out the door. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t seen it coming. The woman he thought he knew, the life he thought was secure—it all felt like a lie now.

At first, he was angry. Angry at you for leaving, angry at himself for not seeing the signs. He replayed every conversation, every moment over the past few months, trying to pinpoint when he lost you.

But as the days turned into weeks, the anger gave way to something else. Pain. Regret. Love. He still loved you, despite everything.

One evening, he sat in the living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring at the empty space where you used to sit. The house felt hollow without you, every room a reminder of what he’d lost.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through old photos of the two of you—laughing at the beach, celebrating birthdays, quiet moments at home. He couldn’t let you go, not without a fight.

He dialed your number, his heart racing as he waited for you to pick up. When you finally answered, your voice hesitant, his heart broke all over again.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice raw. “I don’t know how we got here, but I can’t lose you. Tell me what I need to do to fix this. Please.”

~~~

The call from your husband left you reeling. His pain was palpable, his love undeniable. But could you go back to that life? Could you leave Ghost behind, knowing what you’d found with him?

The next day, you sat alone in the tiny apartment, staring out the window at the bustling city. Ghost was gone again, off on another mission, and the silence was deafening.

You picked up your phone, staring at the messages from your husband and the one-word text Ghost had sent before he left: *Soon.*

The choice loomed over you like a storm cloud. With your husband, you had stability, history, and love. But with Ghost, you had passion, intensity, and a glimpse of the person you always wanted to be.

Would you choose the safe, familiar path and try to rebuild the life you’d had? Or would you take the risk, diving headfirst into a life of uncertainty and danger with the man who had set your soul on fire?

The answer wasn’t clear—not yet. But you knew one thing for certain: whichever path you chose, it would change everything.

Part 11

[shedoessoshedoes]

Never Let Me Go, Part Three

Merry Christmas, @inkedinshadows! I hope your day is merry and full of Christmas cheer. Here's a couple songs I picked out for you to listen to while you read along. I hope you like this present as much as I liked making it for you.

Read part one and part two, or read everything on ao3!

tw: none!

wc: ~2,100

She set about cleaning him up, wiping the blood from his wound and wrapping bandages around it, cleaning the blood and dirt from the rest of his body. Reluctant to leave him alone, she packed her medicines back up and pushed the trunk to a corner of their hallway. The family room was somewhat cramped, what with the dining room table shoved into it, but Elain managed to drag a chair around so she could sit next to Azriel and watch him sleep. Eventually, she tucked her legs up underneath herself and laced her fingers through his, resting her head gently on his thigh. 

She pressed gently kisses to his hand over and over, until she falls asleep to the murmur of her own voice and the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the wind blowing snow outside. 

When she wakes, it’s to Azriel’s hand slipping out of her own. 

Elain jolts upright in her chair, making eye contact with her husband, halfway through pushing himself to sitting on top of the table. She squeaks before he can and pushes him back down to laying, not caring that she probably squishes his wings in the process. 

“What are you doing, trying to sit up?” she demands, both hands now braced on his shoulders as she stands over him. 

“You–Elain?” he asks, bewildered and on alert, peering around the room as though someone is bound to jump out at them. 

“Yes, Elain,” she huffed, shoving him until he was laying fully down again. “You know, your wife that you just scared half to death?” 

 “Sorry,” he responded immediately. “I’m so, so sorry Lainey, it was supposed to be a safe mission, you know that–” 

“I know that! And I know that it’s your job! And I know that you’re perfectly capable of and trained to fend of vicious rebels, but it still is very scary when I’m so panicked that I can’t feel the bond, and you’re so panicked that I can’t feel the bond, and I’m having visions of you being torn out of the sky by rouge Illyrians, so forgive me if your mate is a little on edge about it all!” 

He stares up at her in horror. “You Saw it?” 

“Yes, I Saw it!” she snapped, and promptly burst into tears. “And I’ve already cried about you once today, so I’m feeling quite ridiculous.” 

“Fuck, Elain, c’mere.” He tugged at her hand until she was climbing up onto the table next to him, curling into his uninjured side, burying her head into his shoulder. 

“I cannot imagine how afraid you must have been.” Azriel pressed kisses into her hair while he spoke. “When you were kidnapped, I felt as though I was ready to tear the world apart, and that was before we were bonded, before we were married, and I did not witness your capture.” 

“I was so scared, Az.” 

“I’m here,” he murmured, tucking her into his side, leaning down to press a kiss against her temple. “Right here” He punctuates each of his words with another kiss. “I’m right next to you. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

“Look at me,” Elain huffed a laugh and reached up to kiss his neck. “Making you comfort me like you weren’t just stabbed and poisoned.” 

Azriel grimaced, pressing a hand into his side as though to check on its healing. “Trust me, I’d rather comfort you than think about that.” 

“Do you…can you tell me what happened?” she whispered. 

“I lost your herbs, is what happened. They fell out of my pocket this morning, and then disaster struck.” 

Elain gaped up at him. “Are you joking?” 

He shook his head. “No. I realized they were gone right before I started to fly. Things had been tense all week–you know how well my visits are received–and I guess their frustrations boiled over. I’m not sure what they thought they could do to me, but they’re damned since they tried.” 

“Did you see what they looked like?” 

Azriel nodded. “I’ll go with Rhys to look for them as soon as I’m well.” 

“You will do no such thing. Cassian and Rhysand are perfectly capable of doing it on their own. We can handle them when they come back to Hewn. I don’t know if I can ever let you out of my sight again.” 

“It’s difficult, isn’t it?” Azriel mused, looking up at the ceiling. “Knowing that the one you love has just barely survived something.” 

Elain hummed, thinking back to the days when Azriel would sit with her in the garden for hours on end, ensuring that she was eating and getting sunlight and socializing at least a bit. “Yes, yes, I forgive you for all your mother-henning. I’m sure I’ll be worse.” 

Azriel chuckled, and they lapsed into silence. 

“How do you feel?” Elain asked eventually. 

He shrugged. “You fixed me. I feel fine. I’ve survived much worse.” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that you need to act like you’re alright now if you’re not.” 

“Just…give me a minute to hold you? My side is fine. I’m fine. You made sure of that. I missed you all week, and then I panicked that I would die and never see you again.” 

When Elain looked up at him, Azriel had his eyes screwed shut, and she could tell he was trying to block out everything that had happened to him. 

“Of course we can stay here. We can do whatever you need me to do.” 

Eventually, Azriel felt well enough that they could limp up the stairs to bed together. Elain helped him change, pressing a kiss to his healing wound as she did, and then deposited him into bed. 

“Why are you wearing leathers,” he asked suddenly, watching as Elain stripped them off to change into something more suitable for lounging. It wasn’t a question. 

“You’re just noticing now?” His only response is a stare. “Someone was going to have to winnow you home while everyone else fought.” 

“And you thought that you were the best option?” 

“I’m not trained well enough to fight, am I?” 

“Elain,” he all but growled. “Why would you think that it would ever be a good idea to put yourself into danger?” 

“Oh, please, Shadowsinger. Like you wouldn’t have been gone the second I was reported missing, headed into the heart of battle.” 

“You forget that I have trained for five hundred years to be able to do that, Elain.” 

“And yet, it was my herb’s protection that failed you today, not your own skills?” 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is not how I anticipated Solstice Eve would go.” 

Elain climbed into bed next to him. “There is never a calm moment with this family, is there?” 

Azriel shook his head, hands still over his eyes. 

“Would your present make it better?” she asked, and he peeked over at her with one eye. 

Elain reached over to retrieve it from her bedside table. “Obviously, I don’t think that anything can top the headache powder for you, but I’m hoping this is close.” She placed the package down next to him, and Azriel gingerly unwrapped the gift. 

“I think that anything you give me would…” Azriel trailed off as he held up the gift. It was a small painting of a house, framed in gold. “Is it…did Feyre paint it for us?” 

Elain giggled at his obvious confusion. “She did, but it’s what’s in the painting that’s the present.” 

His head snapped to her, eyes asking for confirmation. 

“I know we have Rosehall, and I obviously love it here,” Elain shrugged. “But I thought it would be nice to have somewhere for just the two of us. Somewhere that wasn’t built specifically for Rhys three hundred years ago, and you know I love your mother more than you, but…” 

“It would be nice to have a home that was just ours,” he finishes for her. He looks down at the picture in awe. “I can’t believe you did this for us. Where is it?” 

“Just outside of Velaris. Close enough that we don’t have to go away when we want to stay there. I was thinking we could visit it tomorrow.” 

He grinned at her then, all dimples and unconditional love, and Elain fell in love all over again. “I love it,” he whispered. “I love it, I love it, I love it. I would be honored to build a new home with you.” 

“Well, good,” Elain responded, leaning over him to brush a kiss to his lips. “Seeing as this is our first Solstice married, after all.” 

Azriel hummed. “My present for you is in the desk, if you want to open it now. I’ll warn you, its nowhere near as good as yours.” 

“I’m surprised at how well we keep each other’s gifts secret,” Elain mused, stepping lightly to the desk and pulling two packages out. 

“Your gifts to me have too much history,” Azriel replied. “I can’t imagine not having them be a surprise now. You’ve shocked me every year.” 

“If only I’d have known what an impact that headache powder would have had,” Elain muttered, crawling back into bed. She tore gently at the paper wrapping her first gift, and uncovered a stack of elegant stationary. 

“I took inspiration from the humans,” Azriel said. “The first anniversary gift is paper. I thought that our relationship’s timeline was too fluid to decide on one anniversary–” Elain huffed a breath in agreement; they would have had to decide between their mating, the end of the frenzy when they’d begun to actually live as a couple, the day they’d had their bond verified, and their wedding–“and so I thought that I could give you your gifts at Solstice, instead.” 

Elain turned the stack of paper over carefully, blinking back tears at Azriel’s nod to her humanity. 

“I had Rhys spell it,” Azriel said, pointing to the older book, “so we can talk back and forth when I’m gone. I guess it’s especially fitting now–this week could have gone very differently if I could have talked to you the whole time.” 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

Azriel pointed to the other package. “Open that one, too.” 

She complied, and pulled out a set of glittering hair pins. “Oh,” she breathed. 

“Do you like them?” 

“They’re beautiful.” Elain twisted a strand of her hair up and pinned it back. “Wherever did you find them?” 

“The Continent.” Azriel wrapped one of her curls around his finger and tugged. “I thought I could learn to do your hair. Then you don’t have to do anything in the morning.” 

Elain smiled into her hands. Azriel loved to brush her hair in the mornings, and it was one of Elain’s favorite routines, too. Adding to it sounded almost magical. 

“Of course, I was really excited to give it all to you, and then you had to go and give us a house”

Elain cut him off with a swat at his wing. “Oh, hush. They’re perfect. Thank you. I can’t believe you thought to see what the humans did for anniversaries.” 

He leaned up to kiss her. “Sometimes,” he said, “when we’re like this, I wonder if you’re real.” 

Elain leaned over him, putting the gifts onto the night table with Azriel’s picture on top of them. “I don’t think that a dream version of us would have been involved in a stabbing on Solstice Eve,” she said primly, before softening to give him a real answer. “It is hard to believe, sometimes, that we survived all that we did and ended up together. But then I look at you, and I realize I would do it all a thousand times over to have you again.”

He pulled her into his chest at that, ignoring her squeak of protest. “I’m fine, Elain.” 

She relaxed onto him, lacing her hand with his. “Happy Solstice, Azriel. I love you. I’m so grateful you’re back.” 

“Happy Solstice, Elain,” he responded, voice already thick with sleep. “Thank you for keeping me safe today.” 

She laughed at that; he was almost always the one doing the protecting, and besides, she hadn’t prevented the stabbing; she’d only healed him afterwards. Elain dropped a kiss onto his chest. “Of course. Good night.” 

“Night,” he said, already half asleep. She was sure this was his first night of real rest all week. Elain looked around their room, at the home they had already built, and thought of the one they would see tomorrow. She whispered a thank-you to the Mother for her mate’s safety, and drifted off to sleep, curled in her husband’s arms, safer and happier than she’d thought she could ever be. 

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

Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

[schmope-is-dead]

it’s about time, don’t you think?

[arias-diaryy]

Phinks and treating the person he just freshly kidnapped and brought into his house (you) like some animal that just wandered in that he’s trying to placate so it doesn’t start destroying his furniture

[wickmitz]

big believer in rocky being an extremely angry person actually! so much of it is internalized and he very much channels it into specific things ( like wick, or more recently, marigold ) but this doesn’t negate the fact that he is angry and resentful. sometimes being mad is more than just punching people and threats of violence! sometimes it’s quiet seething and forced joy. sometimes awful things happen to you and you letting them happen doesn’t mean you won’t become angry about it. sometimes your anger is fear, and sometimes it’s another thing, and actually maybe it’s always coming from some other emotion but it feels like anger and that’s what sticks. and i’ll also just say that his head trauma won’t be helping him with any of these problems in the future either <3

[itsalwaysforyou]

jay not asking coach about letting lonnie onto the team bc he doesn’t want to do anything coach might disagree with…….

[nonsensechemicals]

crying whenever i talk about Cookie9 because all my friends have these interesting and unique theories on them while i take everything too literally and they all just stare at me like “dude… uuugh we r TIRED” <-they dont actually say this they are very kind to me but i can Feel It

[revelboo]

You really write really good stories ✨👌.although I'm already quite addicted to it lol, I literally go offline for 3 days for work and when I come back to read in 10 minutes I've already read everything🫠. btw the "everything will be okay" plot is really good and I'm WILD with Earthspark stories (it became my favorite series and there are almost no Earthspark stories🤧)

I’m just having fun writing my nonsense

Give Up/Give In Pt 13

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• They’re trying to help. He knows it. Appreciates it. Even if he wants to growl. Just wanting a peaceful meal with you, a chance to sit and talk alone. Not realizing Dorothy and the kids would try to help. Alex had cooked for him, and Hashtag and Twitch had found an enormous plaid blanket to spread out under the tree in the yard. Jawbreaker and the others had found old holiday decorations and bit of broken glass and strung them up in the branches so the sun dapples the grass and blanket in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. As much as he appreciates the effort, none of it was by his hand for you and it bothers him. You, though? You’re smiling as you tip your head back to look at the tree. “Is this alright?” He asks.

• “It’s gorgeous.” And it is, the kids working to help Megatron spreading warm through you. Even if you’d heard Hashtag whisper something about ‘Team Romance’ to Twitch. The two seeming to not understand that you’re a human and Megatron is, well, Megatron. Completely incompatible, but it is sweet. “I love it.” Easing down on the blanket, you watch Megatron lower himself across from you, still towering over you as he leans his arms on his knees.

• Nudging the tiny basket of food closer to you, he reaches for an energon cube while you make a plate. Wishes he could mass shift, but it’s too risky with Starscream and the other Seekers at large. Can’t leave himself and you vulnerable. “What else do you love?” Your little face tips up, expressive face surprised by the question and he likes that you’re so easy to read, that he doesn’t have to wonder about your motives. “Tell me,” he adds gently, trying to not demand, but he wants to know everything about you. Who you are. What you like.

• Shoulders lifting in a shrug, you push your food around on your plate. “Not much to tell. Honestly, I just work and go home. Pretty boring.” And sad now that you think about it. No real personal life. A job you don’t care for, but can’t quit because there’s so few prospects in a small town. Too scared to try for a bigger city, so you’d gotten stuck. Still are.

• Venting, he reaches to tip your chin up. Making you meet his optics. “What do you like to do? What dreams keep you going?” He asks, voice taking on a wistful edge. Because dreams seldom go the way planned. His dreams of a better world, of freedom had led to a war that had ravaged his home. Reaching up to touch his servo, you offer him a smile.

• “I played violin as a kid. Wasn’t great at it, but I had fun,” you admit, eyes closing. “I used to dream I could be great. That I could play and people would care.” It sounds so silly. You hadn’t wanted to be rich or famous, just wanted to play well enough the music would make people feel something real. “I doubt i even remember how to play anymore.” Laughing softly, you gently push his servo away.

• “You’ll play for me.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand, but you still smile for him. Wants to hear you play, to lose yourself in something that makes you happy. Desperately wants to see you happy and relaxed. Spark warming when you tell him okay. And you take turns sharing things. He sketches out the war and his mistakes in the broadest strokes he can, not wanting you to know just how awful he is. But needing you to know that side of him is there. Listens to you talk about your family in return, offering him little glimpses of who you are. It’s dark by the time he remembers his deal. That he’d promised to take you home. That home isn’t with him.

• “Are you ready to go?” Heart speeding as he plants a palm on the ground and stands, you want to say no. To ask to stay. To take up even more of his time, all of it he’ll allow. You like talking to him, listening to that rumbling voice. Like the warmth of his big servos when he touches your arm or cheek. Like him. But know this can’t go anywhere, that eventually he’ll get tired of your clinging, so you make yourself nod and smile like you’re okay when you’re not.

• Transforming and dropping his ramp, he can feel you walk inside his alt mode. A little hand brushing a wall as you look around his cargo hold and he feels when you hesitate. Making him remember that he’s not had time to clean up, that your blood is still there. “It’s alright,” he says softly, closing his ramp. “You’re safe here.” And you move through him lingering just inside the cockpit while he waits on you to find somewhere to settle. “Sit anywhere.”

• “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping into one of the pilot seats. Because it’s still weird that he’s this giant aircraft now and that you can just walk around inside him. Can he see you or is he just feeling you moving around? Isn’t that weird to him? Sinking into the seat, you look at all the dials and controls and feel a momentary twist of the surreal. Because this is still Megatron. Different, but still him. When the rotors start up, you touch the harness wondering if you need to strap in.

• “You’re shaking, little one.” He can feel you trembling as your little fingers ghost over his harness, touching the yoke when he shifts it. Nervous and wide eyed. “Are you sure this is what you want?” To go home instead of staying with him? Safe where he can watch over you? And your fingers grip his harness. Hates that you’re so frightened right now, because this isn’t a threat he can destroy or attack.

• No. It’s not what you want at all. Frozen, you want to be greedy. To not go back to the real world. To steal a little more time. Listen to him and ask him questions, because what you’ve seen so far doesn’t mesh up with the stories you’ve heard. He’s not a monster, not cruel or vicious. He’s gentler than you’d expected. “I want to stay,” you whisper, the words so soft there’s no way he can hear them over the sound of his rotors, but they slow and stop. Hear him rumble around you. “I want to stay with you.”

Previous

Constructicons: Some assembly required. Can I just ride around in Scavenger’s scoop?

[loverboybrightsideghost]

fuck i really am a perfectionist FUCK

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[fraberry-stroobcake]

is it gay to be so overwhelmed with emotions by thinking about someone you care about so much you almost want to pick up writing again

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

UHM. UH. More messy rushed doodle collection from today. I will not confess to anything my mouth is sealed shut. Most of it is mindless fun; nothing to do with brainstorming storylines or being worried about staying canonical to how his character is typically presented. Head empty no thoughts since I desperately needed a break from animating again

…but yes to answer your question I’m a bit deranged about him please keep scrolling