#based off my fanfiction

[arttime567]

First post and it’s art :D

Ruin is called Equinox in this.

Click the ALT

I will be posting on this often bye bye :D

[lunarninja613]

Random wizard person: *says something about how all Death Eaters are monsters with no soul or something*

Bellatrix: Untrue. I'm a mother now. It's really changed my perspective.

Random wizard person: And do you find it difficult juggling kids and Death Eater business?

Bellatrix: Juggle this!

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - M.List -

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

The Beginning blurb

Headcanons : just explains your relationship / his side of things more.

Prologue : 3.2k words (highly recommend reading this, fills some gaps)

Part 1 : 3.6k words

Part 2 : 3.4k words

Part 3 : 4.3k words

Part 4 : 3.8k words

Part 5 : 10k words

Part 6 : 5.4k words

Part 7 : 8.1k words

Part 8 : 2.6k words

Part 9 : 5.1k words

Part 10 : 3.1k words

Part 11 : 6.7k words

Part 12 : 2.2k words

Part 13 : 3..4k words Final Part

Thank you for all the support! It's not the best but I hope you all enjoyed!

Everything is also unedited and not reread

If you want a tag list, please comment or message/ask me <3 (I hit tag limit so idk what to do now)

Any and all post of mine relating to this story can be found in the first tag of each post: #not just friends katsuki

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

🦇Batfamily🦇

Dick: *after a year or two of Jason being alive* Bruce, Jason has a present for you.

Bruce: *remembering the duffle bag* Pass, Jason gives terrible presents.

[wren-writes-stuff]

From Under The Desk

JaycexFem!Reader

Modern College AU

You have a paper due at midnight. A very important one. You absolutely CANNOT afford to be distracted.

Jayce distracts you.

Warnings: 18+ (this is basically just smut without plot tbh.) Reader is AFAB. Oral sex, cunnilingus, descriptions of genitalia. Small age gap? Like, only a year or two. Does that count? Idk let me know if i missed something <3

You scrubbed a hand across your face, exhaustion tugging at your eyes. It wasn't actually that late- it was only about seven pm. But, you'd stayed up all of last night writing this damned paper, only to go and spend a full day in class afterwards. And now here you were, hunched over your desk like a vulture pecking at your keyboard.

Getting the words down was the easy part. It was making them make sense that made your brain hurt. The amount of words you'd back-spaced over was probably comparable to the ones you'd actually kept.

You took a swig of your energy drink, wincing as the carbonation hit the back of your throat. You don't know why you bothered honestly; it wasn't doing anything for you at this point.

It was then that you heard the lock on the front door click, and the telltale shuffling sounds of someone entering your tiny apartment.

"I'm home!"

You heard Jayce's muffled voice through your bedroom door, but you made no effort to tear your attention away from your computer screen.

"Hon?" You heard him call again, "You home?"

More shuffling. Then, he knocked softly on the door before opening it. "Hon?" He repeated.

"Hey," you said automatically, fingers still flying across your keyboard.

"Hey, you." You could hear the smile in his voice, and it made your stomach flutter a little. "I picked up some takeout for dinner- I even got those little crab rangoons you love."

In your head, you meant to say something like, 'Wow! Thank you, my love. Im so excited to eat my favorite food with you!' But you didn't, leaving only an awkward pause in the back and forth you could barely call a conversation. You scrolled back to the top of your paper to re-read it, skimming for mistakes. Ah- there's a typo here. It should be "perceived", not-

"Hey, are you okay? Did you hear me?"

"What?" You bristled a little bit, annoyed to have been interrupted. You finally turned around to acknowledge him, trying to hide your chagrin. "Oh...sorry. Um, thank you. That was thoughtful."

It had taken a moment to force your eyes to focus on him, after staring at a bright screen for so long. When they did, you found he looked significantly more chipper than you felt. That made sense, you supposed. He had been freed from the confines of student life already, no longer bogged down by trivial things like homework and exams. Lucky bastard.

His eyes grazed across your face, then the rest of your body- and stopped when he found something interesting.

"You're wearing my hoodie,". He said. Irritation clawed at your stomach, and you swallowed the 'so what?' rising in your throat. You really just wanted to get back to work.

"It's comfy," you said instead, shrugging. "Sorry. I hoped you wouldn't mind. Do you want it back?" He shook his head, starting towards you.

"No, it looks good on you. Keep it on." He leaned down to peck you on the cheek, and you smiled tiredly at him. His hair was slightly tousled from a long day at work, and his chiseled cheekbones were smeared with grease. His cologne was mixed with the smell of coal and something vaguely chemical. Truthfully, what you really wanted was to yank off the hoodie, and his clothes too, and pull him into the shower with you- but there was no time for that now. You swiveled your chair around again, going back to your work.

"Im sorry," you said, "This paper is due in a couple of hours and I need to get it done. You should go ahead and eat if you're hungry. You don't have to wait. And please take a shower."

"What?" He teased, "You don't like the smell of hydraulic fluid?" He wrapped his arms around you and dropped his chin on top of your head. You found it difficult to keep yourself upright under his immense weight.

"No, I don't," you huffed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but I need to focus on this. But once I'm done, I'm yours for the rest of the night, okay?"

The weight was lifted as he moved away from you, chuckling. "Alright, Alright. I'll leave you to it. God, it's kinda hot when you're mean to me. Maybe you should do that more often."

You swatted his arm, staring incredulously, and he ducked away as he laughed again. "I'm not being mean to you. I thought I was being pretty polite all things considered."

"You are mean to me," he whined. "You wont even let me give you my love and attentioonnn." He gave you fake puppy dog eyes, and you snatched a pencil off your desk, holding it up like you were going to chuck it at him.

"Get out," you warned. He held up his hands in surrender and backed out the door, eyes full of mirth.

"I bet you'd be nicer to me if you ate something."

You threw the pencil as hard as you could, but he shut the door before it reached him, and it bounced off the wood instead. You heard him cackling on the other side, before you heard his heavy footsteps move away.

You huffed, running your fingers through your hair. It was greasy, and in need of a good combing-through. You hadn't really had time for a shower yourself; but it could wait a little longer. You went back to your pecking.

Too soon, you heard the bedroom door open again. "Back already?" You asked mechanically.

"Already?" He repeated. "It's been like an hour." You glanced at the clock on the bottom corner of your screen. He was right. You'd been so focused that you didn't realize how long it had been.

"Whoops." You still didn't cease your typing.

You felt his weight upon you the same as before, forcing a wheeze from your lungs. "Why are you so heavy?" You huffed.

He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations against your back. The two of you stayed there like that for a moment, and you rubbed your eyes again. His warmth was comforting, and dangerously cozy. You were going to fall asleep at this rate. You shrugged, trying to get him to move off of you- but he didn't budge. Instead, he pressed his face into your neck, and his hair tickled your cheek. It was still damp, and you could smell his shampoo- like mint, and something darker, more earthy. You tilted your head to kiss the top of his own, breathing in the scent; but never taking your eyes away from your computer.

"Your food's getting cold, love." His breath tickled your skin, giving you butterflies again. "You should come eat something. You'll feel better."

"Can't," you muttered. Even if you wanted to, the caffeine you'd been chugging all day dampened your appetite, despite your empty stomach. He was probably right, but if you stopped now, you might not be able to start again. You had to capitalize on your focus; you couldn't afford to lose it.

Jayce brushed his lips against your jaw, pressing little kisses into the bone, and down your neck. He trailed a hand down your arm, the one opposite to him, and slipped it across your thigh, into the space between your legs-

'What do you think you're doing?" He stood up straight, taking his hand back. You glared at him, half annoyed, and half aroused. It was only now that you realized he wasn't wearing a shirt- just a pair of sweatpants that accentuated his girth in just the right way. You could see every muscle he worked so hard to build on full display, and your breath hitched. His tanned skin was just as damp as his hair, still shining with water. You wondered if he'd even bothered to dry off when he got out of the shower.

"I'm sorry. I can stop if you really want me to," he said gently. He looked down at you with something on his face you couldn't quite read. He wasn't frowning, nor smiling. His eyebrows were quirked upward just slightly, eyes half lidded. His expression was somewhere between lust and fatigue, you decided. Maybe he'd had a long day, too.

You blinked, trying to keep your eyes open. Maybe you didn't want him to stop- but you had to get this done if you had any hope of graduating next semester. You couldn't afford to fail this class. You looked away from him, feeling torn. In the corner of your eye, you watched him kneel beside you, and felt the weight of his head in your lap. He slid his hands around your waist, one of them between you and the back of your chair, and the other across your lap.

"You don't have to stop," you said quietly. "But I can't, either. This is important."

"Is that what you want though? For me to keep going, I mean?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "I do. I just need you to understand that I'm not ignoring you to be mean; I don't want to hurt your feelings because I'm not being an active participant."

He lifted his head, shifting himself between your legs. He had to duck and curl himself up awkwardly to fit himself underneath your desk- it was kind of cute, actually, watching him trying to fit his giant shoulders and long legs into such a tight space.

"I don't think that at all," he said when he was finally comfortable. "I know this it's important to you." He slid his hands up your thighs, letting one of his thumbs land on the spot where he knew your clit to be. He stroked it gently through the fabric of your pants, and you bit your lip to stop the gasp trapped in your throat. His other hand grasped your hip, massaging the soft malleable flesh of your curves with his thumb. He rested his cheek on your knee, looking up at you lovingly.

"You just seem so stressed," he said. "I wanna help you relax." He punctuated his words by swiveling his hand around, sliding his fingers under the curve of your pelvis. Well, 'relaxed' isn't the word you would use to describe yourself right now. A coil had wound itself inside your stomach, and your legs were tense with anticipation. In his hands, you were putty. You couldn't think straight anymore. You tried to focus, tried to keep your eyes on the prize. You were almost done here. Just a couple more paragraphs to go, and then you could-

"Oh-" you gasped involuntarily, something girlish and high pitched. Your face burned with embarrassment- you'd never made a noise like that before. But you couldn't help it- not with the way he was sliding his fingers into you now. You hadn't even realized he had managed to tug your pants down enough to expose you to him.

His other hand, previously on your hip, had slid up your sweater. It was on the small of your back now, pressing you forward. He drew his fingers out of you, slowly, and you bucked your hip forwards with a groan. He was moving so, so slowly. He was being so gentle and sweet, you thought your teeth were going to rot and fall out of your skull. He leaned forward, kissing your stomach, moving down to the side- to your hip, in the crease of your skin where your pelvis met your thigh. You shivered; his lips brushed you so lightly it tickled a bit. Your fingertips buzzed with electricity as you tried to keep typing. But then you felt his tongue sliding between your folds and you couldn't do it anymore.

You let your eyes flutter shut, letting him finally overtake your thoughts completely. You buried your face in your hands, trying to control your ragged breathing as he moved his tongue up, and down, slowly, gently. He pushed his tongue inside of you, lapping at you like he hadn't had a drop to drink in days. You whined, sliding a hand under the desk to grab his hair, to bring him closer to you. You could hear him panting, feel his breath against your pubic mound. His movements grew more desperate at your touch, ever eager to please.

You laid your other arm on the table, resting your head on it like a pillow. You really couldn't stop the sounds escaping from you now. Every gasp, moan, and whimper from you only seemed to further spur him, urging him to move faster. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue, reaching as far inside of you as he could manage, and moving back up to lick tiny circles around your clit.

You moved your hips with his rhythm, desperate for more friction as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge. "Jayce," you whispered shakily, "I-I'm really- mmmfh- close-"

He didn't let up even a little bit, even when you leaned back, pushing his head against you so hard you were worried he'd suffocate. You were almost blinded by pleasure, the coil winding itself tighter and tighter- until it finally snapped.

You cried out his name like a prayer, over and over again as you shook. You clamped your thighs around his ears, wrapping your legs together over his shoulders. You tugged on his hair like it was a lifeline, feeling every crashing tidal wave of your orgasm in full force as your back arched away from your chair. You practically sobbed, your eyes watering. You couldn't help it. It was so good.

He finally stopped when he sensed you'd had enough, slumping in your chair like a rag doll as exhaustion racked your brain through the afterglow. He pulled back, his face shiny with spit and slick. You smiled at him, before letting your head flop back as you closed your eyes.

'That was hot," he whispered. You snorted, not opening your eyes. You felt his fingers brush your skin as he pulled your pants back up, and shivered slightly when the cold wet fabric of your underwear met your overly-sensitive groin. You pressed your toes against the floor to push your chair from under the table so he'd have room to get out.

"That didn't take very long, either" he teased. "You must have been pretty pent up." You heard shuffling as he stood, and you finally opened your eyes when you felt his lips brush against your forehead. You flicked his shoulder.

"You're just good at what you do."

He smiled, his eyes flickering across your face. You reached up to rub your thumb across his chin, trying to wipe off some of the remaining fluids. He grabbed your wrist and pressed a kiss into your palm before you could withdraw it, never taking his eyes off of you.

"Come eat something, please," he whispered. You sighed and glanced at the clock again, considering it- it was almost 9:15. There was still time.

"Alright, alright," you resigned. "Give me five minutes, and I'll be right there."

Jayce made a face you couldn't discern, and let go of your hand. "Okay," he said, and stepped out of the room.

He came back ten minutes later to find you still at your computer. "I couldn't wait any longer," he said- making you jump.

"Augh, I'm sorry, Jayce," you said- and you meant it.

"It's okay," he shrugged, "I had a feeling this might happen. You get so sucked in sometimes. It's endearing, actually."

He set two styrofoam boxes next to you, and opened another for himself. "I thought I would just bring dinner in here. Maybe I could help you edit? Make things go a little faster so we can get you in the shower?" He smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was lodged into the corner of the room, with the desk beside it like an oversized nightstand. There'd be no room to move about, otherwise.

You cracked open the first box, choosing to ignore his quip, and your mouth watered at the sight of your favorite food inside. Ugh, even cold it smelled amazing. You shoveled it into your face with the flimsy plastic fork, newfound hunger making itself evident. You looked to Jayce, intending to thank him for the meal; but you found he was looking at you expectantly.

'What?" You asked through a mouthful of food.

"Did you want my help?"

Oh.

You swallowed.

"Sorry. Um, yes. That might be nice honestly. I could use a break."

He set his food aside, chuckling. "The first one wasn't enough?" He teased. You scowled, only pretending to be upset.

"Whatever man. Switch me places." You stood up to give him your chair, and he complied- though he had to pull the lever under the seat to lower it, to make room for his mile-long legs.

"Alright, let's see, here..."He squinted as he read your work, and you took the opportunity to admire him. God, he really was incredibly handsome. His long, calloused fingers looked enormous over your keyboard compared to your own. His bulky shoulders hunched forward, pulling the skin of his back taught over his muscles. You bit your lip, feeling your arousal coming back through your fatigue. He glanced at you, and you blushed when you caught him staring; as if you hadn't been together long enough by now that this wasn't embarrassing. But he still never failed to give you the warm-and-fuzzies so to speak. He smiled, laughing through his nose.

"What're you looking at?"

You twirled your hair with exaggeration. "Oh, yknow. Just this cute guy I have a crush on, or whatever," you flirted. He rolled his eyes, still grinning to himself.

"Eat your food, dork." He looked back to the screen, and you did what you were told.

It didn't take long. You wolfed down your dinner so fast you even surprised yourself. You stood to collect your trash, and kissed the top of Jayce's head before heading to the kitchen to dispose of it properly. When you came back, he was already standing up to stretch.

"It looks good to me," he said- with his arms over his head, his obliques were in full view and it made you just about weak in the knees. "I think it's ready to submit, if you're happy with it."

You thought about re-reading it one more time- just to be sure- but your brain was so foggy with exhaustion (and maybe some arousal). You trusted Jayce's judgement, too. He'd graduated summa cum laude last year, after all. You were sure he knew what he was talking about.

"Thank you, love. I really appreciate your help." You patted his chest with a weary smile, and sat down to submit it. When you were finally able to click your laptop shut, you were just about to collapse. You looked over to find Jayce already waiting for you in bed, and he opened his arms for you.

"C'mere, you," he crooned softly. You complied, shutting off the table lamp before you crawled across the blankets to meet him. He pulled them over the two of you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of mint and clean bedsheets. You suddenly felt self conscious, remembering you had forgotten to bathe.

You sat up. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick actually-" but he yanked you back down before you could move, burying his nose in your hair.

"Nooooo," he mumbled. "Stay with me."

"Jaaaayce," you whined, "I smell terrible. Wouldn't you rather I got cleaned up before bed?"

He didn't move, keeping you pinned between his arms. "Mmm, girl stink."

"You- what?" You sputtered, laughing at the absurdity. You tried to move, but he was already snoring softly. You couldn't tell if he was faking it or not, but you gave in anyway. You tangled your legs with his, letting his warmth overtake you and carry you to sleep at last.

[konigsblog]

Unfortunately, König would be ridiculously controlling in a relationship.

It stems from him being overprotective of you and ridiculously insecure of his conventionally unattractive appearance, fearing that you'll come to the realisation that there's better looking men out there who won't treat you like a puppet or a toy. He can't stand the idea of another man laying eyes on your figure, the thought of another perverted and gross degenerate — similar to himself — getting off to your innocent, cutesy selfies. You're for König's eyes only, and he'll make sure of it. He'll plead with you to delete the recent pictures of you wearing a skimpy and revealing bikini while on vacation that you'd recently uploaded onto your Instagram page. His rage and frustration grows beyond comprehension when you refuse. He'll demand that you should at least private your account, block all the men following and liking your posts. Let him protect you.

Oh, you have plans to go out drinking with your closest friends? Well, that's too bad. That's far too dangerous and risky. Anything could happen to a group of intoxicated, tipsy, and delirious women. He's just looking out for you, little mouse... Why don't you come lay down beside him, rest your head against his brute chest and watch your favourite movie together, listening to the sound of each other's heartbeat? He'll take great care of you. It's safer, anyways.

König doesn't care how long you've known your friends for, if you've known them since childhood or not. He'll convince you that they're a horrible influence on you, that they're toxic and manipulative, and that you don't see through their toxicity. He'll claim that they don't look out for you like König does, that they put you in life-threatening situations where your life is placed in danger. He'll sneak onto your phone while you're soaking yourself in the bubbly bathtub, going out of his way to block and get rid of your friends — making an effort to threaten all your male friends while he has the time.

Sure, it's bound to result in an argument and a screaming match between the two of you, but you just don't understand — you don't see it from his perspective. You should be grateful, Liebling.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"We need cash." Two, Soda, Steve, Dallas, Pony, 'n Johnny crowd the living room in a loose circle like mourners at a funeral. Between them, the shattered, stacked, 'n swept together corpse of what had once been their TV.

"We? Ain't my fault it's broken." Dallas kicks at a shard of glass 'n Pony narrows his eyes at him. "Blame it on the kid 'n call it a night."

"Hey!" Pony stomps a foot before he can catch himself, crosses his arms. "It wasn't me!"

Steve scoffs, rolls his eyes. Pony's face darkens murderously. "Was too."

"No, it was not! You were the one who fuckin' threw me!" Soda 'n Two's eyes ping pong back 'n fourth between the two of them.

"Did not! 'N if I did it was only 'cause you started the fight."

"Bullshit!" Pony's voice hits a shrill high note 'n Steve smirks at him, self-satisfied. "I only started it 'cause you were fuckin' callin' me names you asshole."

"Well, I wouldn't have been callin' you names if you hadn't been actin' like a brat." Pony lets out an indignant wail 'n Soda has to fly across the group to snag him by the waist so he doesn't start right back up again.

"Ok, ok. Enough you two." Pony writhes around like a fish on a hook for another moment before Soda jabs him in the ribs 'n he howls but stops fightin'. "This isn't solvin' our problems."

"I don't see how this is an us problem." Dallas tries again, hooks an arm around Johnny's shoulder 'n pulls him close. "I just got here, Johnny wasn't involved, 'n neither was Two. Soda bites the bullet for not stoppin' 'em 'n Darry can string the idiots up as he so pleases. What's the problem?"

Steve 'n Pony both turn on him, united for the first time that afternoon, fingers pointed 'n accusin'. "'Cause Two was bettin' on us-"

"Hey! Look, all's fair 'n love 'n war or whatever they say. Nobody asked ya to start rumblin' in the livin' room of all places."

"Yeah, 'n Darry'll love to hear that." Steve grabs his hip, wags a finger in a pretty damn passin' imitation of Darry. "Two-Bit Mathews you're how old now? Glory God almighty when are you gonna get any sense- OW!" Steve hollers at the comic Two's rolled up 'n thumped him over the head with.

"Ok, Ok fine. But I wasn't fuckin' bettin' against myself!" Two glares pointedly at Soda who rocks back 'n forth on his heels, suddenly findin' the floor real interestin'.

"Soda!" Steve stops nursin' his head to glare at Soda with wide eyes.

"Hey! Look! I'm sorry!" He blinks, tries his best tip-earnin' grin. "It was all on you, Stevie."

"SODA!" Pony whips on him quick as quick, quiverin' with as much indignance 'n outrage a fourteen-year-old can manage. Soda swallows back a snort, grabs Pony's face in his hands. "I'm sorry-"

"Well. Tough shit for y'all. But I don't see what this has to do with me or Johnny 'n I'm of the mind to beat it before Darry gets home 'n raises hell."

"Uh, Dal." Johnny clears his throat 'n tries to ignore the pointed stares of the rest of the gang hot on his face, runs a hand up the back of his neck, blows out a long breath. "IhadfiftycentsonPonyboy."

"Johnny!" Dallas drops him but doesn't sound half as annoyed as he does impressed.

"Well at least someone was in my corner-" Pony shoots Soda an aggravated glance 'n Soda throws his hands up placatingly.

"Yeah, speakin' of which." Two whips his hand out, palm up, 'n makes a grabbin' motion. Both Soda 'n Johnny huff but reach in their pockets 'n pull out quarters, dumpin' into Two's waitin' hands. He hoots his laughter 'n shoves the dollars' worth of change into his pants.

"Wait, who were you bettin' on Two?" Steve crosses his arms at the same time Pony plunks his hands on his hips, both glarin' accusingly.

"Me? I wasn't playin' for neither of ya! I bet y'all were gonna break somethin'!" Two cracks himself up, howlin'. It doesn't last for long 'n Pony 'n Steve turn succinctly on him, draggin' him down to the floor 'n landin' jabs wherever they can reach.

"Good lord. Well, y'all have fun with that one. I'm peelin' outta here."

"Oh no you don't." Soda catches one hand deftly in the collar of Dallas' jacket as he turns to leave, hefts him back. "You even think about wormin' outta this I'll tell Darry about that time you smoked all that pot 'n threw up 'n I had to carry a bowl a soup down to Buck's for your scrawny ass."

"Yeah, or that time you got picked up for shopliftin' 'n when the cops called I picked up the phone 'n never told Dar." Steve pauses in his onslaught of Two-Bit to throw his hat in the ring. The moment he's not focused Two wriggles out, flips him easily onto his back.

"Or that one time with Tim-"

"OK. Goddamn! No wonder Darry's goin' grey. Y'all are enough to send a man to an early grave." Dallas scowls 'n throw his hands up, shakin' Soda off. "So what now?"

"Now we need cash." Two says plaintively 'n they all stare down at the wreckage again.

"Ok. Thanks, genius." Steve rolls his eyes, clambers back to his feet, offers Pony his hand 'n hauls him up. "What are we lookin' at here? Like what? Twenty bucks?"

"Twenty bucks? Steve, what world do you live on where a TV is twenty goddamn bucks?" Dallas toes at the the box 'n it sparks. "Jesus Christ, none of you unplugged it? Hurry up 'n yank the plug out before we gotta by Dar a new house too."

Both Soda 'n Johnny dive for the cord 'n Johnny pulls up at the last second so they don't crack their heads together.

"So what, like fifty?" Pony 'n Soda exchange a glance, avert their eyes.

"Uh, try more like eighty, man." Soda plops down on his ass, looks desolately at the hunk of plastic 'n glass again.

"EIGHTY? Guys. We're dead. More than dead. Dar's gonna kill us, bury us, 'n then dig us back up again." Steve chews at his thumbnail, paces quick back 'n forth.

"Naw, Steve. Be realistic." Two grins, stuffs his hands into his pockets. "He'd never go through all that work for us. I think just killin' us the first time around'll do it."

Pony groans, presses both his palms into his eyes 'n collapses back into the armchair. "Not funny, Two."

"Aw, not even a lil-" He's cut off by the throw pillow Steve beams at his head, hittin' him square in the face.

"Man focus. We got cash, right?" Dallas refocuses the room, looks at them each in turn. The silence is answer enough, the celin', floor, 'n walls becomin' real fascinatin'. "Man, y'all've got to be jokin'. Steve, don't you have some money from the DX or your da put away?"

"Uh, well, no. Not really. Kinda, uh, lost it. All." He twiddles the bottom of his vest between his fingers, refuses to look up.

"Whatta ya mean lost it?"

"Look you lose one goddamn drag 'n suddenly everyone's crawlin' up your ass! How was I supposed to know that? 'N hey, what about you, Two? I don't hear you offerin' anythin' up."

"Ha! What money? I didn't have anythin' to start with don't look at me. Ask Soda, he's employed."

Soda throws his hands up guiltily. "Don't look over here. I got six bucks to my good name."

"Yeah, good 'n broke-" Soda pulls a face 'n kicks Dallas hard in the shin before he can duck outta the way.

"Where'd your paycheck go, Soda?" Johnny prods at him with his foot 'n Soda playfully catches it, yanks at him.

"Hey, I keep the lights on in this place!"

"And the rest of it?" Johnny pulls back 'n, when he realizes Soda ain't lettin' up, reaches down to jab at the ticklish spot on Soda's ribs.

"What? A man can't be afforded a lil' fun?" Soda yowls 'n drops his foot, wrigglin' backwards to get away. "How was I supposed to know a guitar was twenty-five bucks?"

"Soda!" Pony's jaw drops open. "You can't even play!"

"Hey! Yet! Gimme some credit! Plus I don't wanna hear anythin' from mister no job over there." Soda crosses his arms dramatically but he's grinnin' the whole way 'n all of them know he doesn't mean it.

"That ain't fair! Darry won't let me get a job. 'Course I don't got no goddamn money. Look at Dal. He's got a job!"

"First of all, I didn't even break the fuckin' TV. Second of all, how much money I got is none of your damn business." Dallas scowls, turns his nose up. Steve groans, drops down to the couch with his head in his hands.

"God so we're all broke."

"Hey-!"

"Shut up, Dal." Two cuts him off 'n Dallas' shifts his glare, damn near murderous. "Johnny Cakes?" He tries, weakly hopeful.

"Uh, I got three bucks." Soda quirks an eyebrow up 'n Johnny plops his hands on his hips.

"Where did you-"

"Ya gonna ask questions or are ya gonna take it?" Soda studies him for a moment, arms crossed still 'n doin' a cartoonish impression of a fussin' hen.

"Boys, we got a real hood among us here today." He hoots 'n Johnny kicks him in the hip, both of them still howlin'. "So that brings us up to, what?"

"Uh, nine bucks. Ten if someone can wrestle that change outta Two's pocket." Pony leans forward, elbows on his knees, 'n sizes Two up like he stood even a single chance.

"Man. I want lillies at my funeral. Can I put that out there? Should we do last rites now or-"

"Aw, hush up, Steve. Look, we just gotta scrape together a little money before Dar gets back. We can get, uh, what was it?" Soda frowns, counts absently on his fingers.

"Seventy more bucks." Pony dead pans 'n Soda's self-assured smile wavers a bit.

"C'mon, that's nothin'! We just gotta put our heads together." Soda climbs to his feet, rubs his hands together in thought. "How do we get our hands on some quick cash?"

Dallas 'n Two open their mouths 'n Soda throws out an accusin' finger to each of them. "'N nobody's doin' nothin' illegal 'cause if Dar has to pick one of us from the station before he comes home to no TV he's gonna start inventin' cruel 'n unusual punishments, y'hear?"

Dallas rolls his eyes 'n mutters 'n Two nods absently in agreement but they both don't offer any other ideas. "Anythin' else?"

"Uh, pawn shop?" Pony offers.

"Yeah, great idea, Pone. Anyone have any expensive jewelry they've been keepin' back?" Steve drawls, dryly, apparently resigned to his fate.

"Well, it ain't mine but I got, uh, a Singer we could sell." Dallas leans back in the doorway, waits for the onslaught of questions. They don't disappoint.

"A Singer? Dal, you've been watchin' me hafta hand hem 'n you had a Singer?" Soda howls, goes to kick him in the shin again but Dallas is prepared this time 'n dodges it.

"Where the hell did you get a Singer-?"

"Why-?"

"Look! It was Sylvie's, right? When I kicked her out she didn't get the chance to take it or nothin'. It ain't mine." He throws his hands up defensively, eyes Soda still standin' close enough to wallop him if he decided to. Soda glares back like he's still makin' up his mind about goin' for round two.

"Aw, man. We can't pawn off Sylvie's stuff." Johnny backs outta the way as Soda decides to give it another go 'n jabs at Dallas. "She mighta been a lil' mean but she don't deserve to have her shit sold off."

"The bitch- Soda get offa me- two-timed me? Remember?" Dallas knocks Soda's hands deftly away 'n Soda sneaks in on more solid kick before retreatin'.

"Oh, yeah." Johnny rocks back 'n forth on his heels, still clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea.

"Maybe Soda 'n Steve could pick up some extra shifts for a bit?" Pony tries again, clearly not as willin' as Steve to lie down 'n take his medicine.

"Yeah, another winner, Pone. 'N when Darry comes home to no TV tonight?" Steve scowls at him 'n Pony glares back, the two still dangerously close to another all-out scrap.

"Well, at least I'm comin' up with somethin'."

"Doesn't help if it's all stupid-"

"Alright you two, knock it off. We can't afford to have to buy anythin' else y'all broke 'cause y'all can't keep your traps shut." Two cuts in 'n they both round on him, glarin'.

"Look who's talkin'!" Steve mutters 'n Two grins 'n flips him off.

The laughter 'n bickerin' trail off, lapsin' into silence again. Each lookin' guiltily at the disaster, eyein' each other. "Well, uh, is anyone not above beggin'?" No one says anythin' 'n Two clicks his teeth, nods. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Hey, guys." Six heads turn to look at Pony, suddenly ashen 'n lookin' past them up at the clock in the kitchen. "Is this a bad time to tell y'all Dar told me to tell y'all he'd be home early this afternoon?"

"Pony." Steve flies to his feet, grabs Pony by his shoulders. "How early?"

Somehow, Pony manages to pale even further. "Uh. In like. An hour?"

As if it had heard, the TV hisses, flashes, lets out one final death rattle 'n falls silent so it's just the seven of them, eyein' each other like men at the gallows.

"Dallas?" Johnny gives himself a shake, grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa.

"Yeah, man?"

"Let's get your girlfriend's stuff."

[curiouslymyown]

Regulus Black with his ink-stained fingers

[artisiumstudios]

TW: IMPLIED SUCIDE

[monsterhospital]

They should retcon everything sad that happens in Arcane and instead make a show about them getting summer jobs at the Kiramman vacation estate

Previously in the AU

[yawujin]

Hihiiii I saw your bio and I really wanted to ask for your Prussia headcanons! Anything you want to share nsfw or sfw whatever you feel like writing < 3 Ty

ofc! i have quite a few because i really do love prussia. he's been a favorite of mine ever since i heard him say "SUCK IT LOSERS" on my first time watching hetalia back in 2016 lmfao

{ request } random prussia headcanons ₊˚⊹౨ৎ

type • headcanon format , short read , my characterization

it might be a little unexpected from him (although it adds to his charm) but, i feel like he would love listening to aggressive rap music. mostly by male rappers

wears vintage rings, he just likes the extra color they add to his mostly monochromatic outfits

he cannot go anywhere without his sunglasses. i would say sunscreen as well, however, he only feels like he needs it during the summer. he wears UV protective clothing in the winter and it works just as well (he gets most of this from japan)

he thinks it's okay to swear (in german) around a baby as long as he's in a non german speaking country because: "the baby doesn't speak german"

lowkey offended when someone compliments france on having the best bread in europe when obviously german bread is so much better

he teases his younger brother about how it seems he only knows how to have fun when he's drunk

wishes it was socially acceptable in modern society to dress in 1700's-1800's military uniforms so he could "look awesome again"

always tries to gather up courage to subtly compliment lithuania and efforts to get close to him again but he just can't do it

rereads his journals and smiles at the thought of his younger self, of how much he's grown and learned. (also he kind of cringes at his younger self)(we all do)

calls the knight chess piece 'the horse' just to annoy austria whenever they play together

don't give him jägermeister unless you want to see him become the most devilish, feral, lustful mf EVER. (bye wtf)

[yallthemwitches]

The Sound of Silence

Minerva always had a soft spot for Potter. Maybe that's why when it was time to choose a Head Boy alongside Lily Evans, he was was clearly the only option--- A series of vignettes of James and Lily's seventh year through McGonagall's POV.

AN: Posting this one a day early because I won't have time tomorrow (sorry) Written for Jily Week 2024, Day 5: Matchmaker (hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder)...Fully dedicate this one to the many teacher meetings I've sat through where we all devolve into gossiping about students. AO3 Link Here

I.

They sat around a circular table which always reminded Minerva of a story she heard as a child. Her colleagues had shuffled in slowly, still rosy with summer and the ever rejuvenating feeling of silence after a school years worth of endless noise. 

Filius sat next to her, pulling out a pipe and stoking it with a flame emitted from his short stubby finger. He sighed and a puff of smoke wafted into the middle of the table. 

“Here we are again—” he said to no one in particular. Minerva just clasped her hands on the table and waited for the final stragglers to trickle in.

Albus sat on the other side of the sphere and regarded his staff with half-amusement. Many of them had been long friends—giving centuries of their lives to the school. How many powerful witches and wizards had they watched slip out of these doors with their collective spirit within them? If the thought wasn’t so saccharine, Minerva would have perhaps felt a little proud. 

Albus cleared his throat and the staff settled. At this point they needed no commencement speech on why they all were called from their little parts of the castle to assemble, nor did they want one. The golden rule was short meetings were the best ones.

Horace spoke first. He always did. 

“Obviously I think there’s no arguing that Lily Evans should be the first pick.”

There was a rumble of agreement. Even Filius made a reluctant nod. He never willingly wanted to agree with Horace on much of anything.

“That’s a fine choice Horace, but are you not worried about the matter of her blood status? I’m sure you are not ignorant of the current news and I can imagine your house is quite…vocal about these happenings.”

McGonagall heard a snort from Filius which was hard to miss seeing as it bounced his whole body slightly off his chair. 

“Oh, Albus, must we always make these things so political,” Horace whined, “Evans is a brilliant witch…the best of her year—I’m sure we can—we can—” He teetered off, not knowing how to finish. It wasn’t a secret that despite his affinity for the muggleborn, his house was not so keen to accept her. They all would be idiots to disregard the dangers of putting someone of her status in charge in the current climate. 

But Albus didn’t press further. It was never his nature. “Then it’s settled. Lily Evans is Head Girl.” There was another mumbled agreement. Horace’s face was pink and slightly sweaty, but he nodded all the same.

“So onwards to—” 

There was a shuffle of teachers. Sybill spoke first:

“Oh, Oh! I choose the Delile boy. His tea leaves have always shown potential.” A couple seats down, Pomona snorted. 

“Colin Delile? That boy tried to eat a handful of nightshade thinking it was mint last year—”

“Well, I vote for Ambroise Cunningham: smart, good quidditch player (“mediocre quidditch player,” Minerva thought) and has a good head on his shoulders!” Interjected Rolanda.

There were some nods in agreement but Filius started to tut. 

“Are you all forgetting that Cunningham and Evans dated two years ago? They’ll kill each other!”

“Oh, I would hardly call that dating,” Horace scoffed.

“They certainly looked like they were dating when I found them in the charms broom closet that October!” Filius shot back. 

He had a point. She wouldn’t call Filius her friend per se but she had a fond appreciation for him being insightful when it came to the students’ lives. He was very discreet, perhaps with the help of his size, but he always was up to date on each of their lives. 

Minerva mulled a thought around for a minute while drowning out the verbal quidditch that was occurring for the rest of the staff. It was a gamble, certainly. But she had never been the one to shy away from a challenge. 

Raising her voice above the riffraff she called out, “I say James Potter should be Head Boy.”

The room went silent. Around the table, every set of eyes peered at her with mixtures of shock.

Chaos erupted. 

“Potter can’t keep himself out of detention to save his life,” screamed Aurora.

“That and his little group were growing muggle drugs in the west greenhouses!” Pomona chimed in. 

Albus didn’t even try to get order. He just continued to stare at her with an expression that twinkled beyond the room.

Minerva huffed. “Well, can any of you deny that he is brilliant?” Everyone paused. A wave of indecision rushed through the group. 

“And we know he’s a good leader. The Gryffindor team has won every year since he became captain.” Horace grumbled something under his breath but she ignored it. 

“---And, we are going to need someone who is willing to help, Hecate forbid, if there is an attack of some sort due to all this Dark Lord bunk. He might be scrappy and a fool sometimes, but he’d be able to hold his ground for the others.”

There was a hesitant noise of agreement around the table. People shifted in their seats, not able to find fault in her logic but also not enjoying its outcome. 

“And what about Evans then?” Horace had his arms crossed against his chest. “Potter has been tormenting the poor girl for years. They would be rubbish, absolute rubbish—”

“Ah, shut it Horace,” Filius scoffed, “We all know those two have been clouding up this school with sexual tension for a better half of a year now.” More nods all around. 

Minerva had hoped that no one would make the romance argument, but it couldn’t be helped. Potter and Evans had been making all of their lives unbearable, with their oblivious pining and rowing. It was like watching an ouroboros eat itself the way the two provoked each other. There was a small part of her that even hoped that matching the two together would end their purgatory. 

“Ah, the ancient magic of young love,” Albus mused to himself, stroking his beard. “I won’t deny that I like the idea. Are there…any others who seriously denounce the decision to make Potter Head Boy?”

Horace made a few grumbles, but ultimately kept quiet. He knew once Albus made a decision, he wasn’t easy to sway. 

“Then it’s settled, Lily Evans and James Potter.”

“Hecate help us,” Pomona mumbled under her breath. 

II. 

She watched as they shifted next to each other uncomfortably. Both of them dawned golden badges with encrusted initials on them that looked too heavy to be pinned to their robes. She had honestly expected more hiccups on the first day back, but something had already seemed to have shifted between them. Evans actually smiled when Potter offered her some dessert, took it from him and blushed when their hands grazed. She said something and James let out a laugh that made her smile as well. 

“Now, that’s interesting.” Filius whistled, sitting next to her at the great banquet. “Maybe your little matchmaking stunt was unneeded.” He side-eyed her and she didn’t entertain his amusement.

She looked back at the young couple. Potter had begun to explain something with extreme animation. He waved his hands around and Lily actually laughed at his antics. When he finally finished whatever he was saying, his hand rested on the bench between them and Minerva swore she saw Evans place hers on top of his.

“Oh Merlin, what have I done.”

III. 

“I think we have Miss Evans to thank for his rehabilitation. That girl can do anything,” Horace chortled at lunch a week later. 

“What are you talking about? He blew up the Slytherin bathroom just yesterday.”

“Well—he would have done it six more times already if it wasn’t for her influence!”

No one could argue that there was a great change between the two Heads. Horace wasn’t wrong, Potter was being better behaved this year and in turn Evans had started to cozy up to him more and more. Even at that moment, they entered the great hall together. Potter had both of their bags slung over his shoulder and his eyes were glued to her. As they sat, Evans pulled his glasses off in a fuss, cast a cleaning charm on them, then put them back on his face. Her hand lingered to push some of his unruly hair away and he made a dopey swooning smile. 

“It's like watching a dead body be reanimated,” Filius nodded towards the two. 

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“Don’t act like you aren’t seeing this. At this rate they’ll be married by graduation.”

She looked over again. They were sitting so close that their shoulders were touching. Black was engaging them in conversation with a lively reenactment of some muggle movie they had watched, but the couple seemed to be hardly listening. Slowly, like attempting to touch fire, Evans leaned her head onto James shoulder—slightly hovering it in indecision for a moment before putting her weight fully on his. Potter perked up, then dared to place an arm around her waist.

Filius let out a low whistle. Horace moaned.

“I was really hoping she would get with one of the Black boys..” Horace mumbled, “ blood purity aside, I do think they would be better suited…”

But he got cut off by Pomona who came half sprinting down the table. 

“Are you seeing this?? Potter! Evans!” 

VI. 

Christmas break was already upon them, which meant all of the professors were stretched too thin to think. Heads of house always had the worst of it. On one hand that meant she didn’t have to see Horace chortling around the castle half as much, but on the other she now had the Gryffindor house and the two Head students to preside over. As she walked, she mumbled to herself about how she would never offer up a Gryffindor into the Head position again. 

She mounted the stone steps towards the Heads’ office, trying to balance all the rolled parchments in her arms. Entering the small elaborate passage, she could see the light of the office was on. 

As she approached the image of them became more clear. Potter was elongated over the couch with his feet dangling lazily over the edge of the armrest. Evans laid between his splayed legs and over his torso. Using her forearms, she propped up on his chest and seemed to be drawing small circles into his shirt. Potter fiddled with her hair, twisting it through his fingers as though it was a snitch evading being caught. 

They spoke in low tones so she could hardly make out what they were saying. Potter said something to make her laugh tinkle into the cavernous room before tugging lightly on her to become eye level. Minerva watched with a sinking feeling as her two Head students locked lips, and proceeded to not break away from each other for a long time. 

She stood there in the passage, feeling a bit sorry for herself for being in this position: busy, overworked, trying to teach a class while helping Albus get a counterforce together...and now apparently being too sheepish to tell her Head Students to stop snogging long enough to take some of the work off her hands. 

With a little shriek from Evans, Potter flipped them over so he was now hovering over her while a hand disappeared somewhere Minerva did not want to guess. Admitting a sort of defeat, she spun on her heel and left the way she came. 

V.

The morning of the last day of school started like all of the other 200 times she’d done it. She woke up, made herself some tea, shifted into her cat form and curled around her bedroom window. 

A knock rattled the door. She lifted her head and hoped that whoever was bothering her would take the hint. Another set of knocks, and distinctly not Albus’ typical rap. She did a cat’s equivalent of a sigh and changed herself human again. 

She opened the door to find Potter looking out of breath and somewhat sheepish. Not a good start. 

“Good morning Minnie,” he beamed at her. 

“Mr. Potter, can I help you? It’s 6am…”

Potter ran a hand through his hair. On a glance over he looked suspiciously put together for the time of day. 

“Er, yes actually. I’m hoping I banked enough goodwill with you to ask for a favor?” Even he sounded unsure of himself. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he always knew how to hit her soft spot. 

“I don’t know about this goodwill, but I’m listening.”

He let out a relieved huff then suddenly became very animated. “Brilliant—ok. I can’t really tell you right now, because it's kind of a secret, but I would really really love it— and be forever grateful to you— if you kept students away from the lake this afternoon.”

Minerva blinked at him. There was no bone in his body that was not being sincere, she could see that, but how often had he looked the same when he wanted to do one of his little stunts. 

Seeing her pursed lips, he continued. “I swear. I solemnly swear it's not a prank. Just please.”

“Ok.” 

“Wait, what?” he blinked at her like she had grown two heads.

“Don't make me regret this decision Potter.”

“I won’t— would never. Ah, Thank you Minnie! You’re a doll!” He turned and bounded down the stairs.

XXX

It turned out to be quite difficult to keep students away from the lake, but she managed. The clock was ringing 3pm and she was starting to wonder how long she was supposed to keep things up when she spotted them. Potter and Evans were walking hand in hand. They both hadn’t changed into their regular clothes yet and Evans was talking softly. Potter looked like he wasn’t hearing a word of it. Honestly, he looked wrecked. Whatever was on his mind was clearly eating him alive—not at all the same collected boy that had knocked on her door that morning. 

The lakeside was cleared as promised and they walked beside it before stopping and looking out at the mountains far away. It struck Minerva this would be the last time she would see these two in this setting. The next time they would meet they would be equals, fighting what now felt like an impossible war. She savored the moment of seeing two people in love, unaffected for perhaps the final time by death and sadness. 

Potter turned to Evans looking like he was about to combust. Evans must have noticed because her brow furrowed and she placed a hand on his chest, which he immediately grabbed and held in both hands. Very shaky, he lowered himself onto one knee. 

She waited for noise. For some sort of big show that Potter and his mates set up for the occasion, for students to come bursting at the seams of the castle to ruin the moment, for even just the sound of a yes.

Instead, there was silence. A blissful, pure silence. She must have blinked and missed it because Potter’s arms were wrapped around her now, lifting her off the ground. Tears poured from both of their eyes as they in turn tried to wipe the other's face—opting finally for kissing each tear off each other’s cheeks. There was no noise—just sweet relief. 

For a split second, the two reverted back into their eleventh year selves. Small, unsure, and holding onto each other tightly against the weight of a world still unknown to them. It was the first time in a long time she wanted to cradle something in her arms. To tell them it was going to be alright; to keep them whole.

[hikarry]

I've got the very weird feeling Nina would be the type of gal pal that would try and convince Crowley to get into Tinder/Grindr and when he does cave, she takes the phone from him and starts swipping right in every single possible person without looking at faces or details or anything, not because she cares and lowkey feels guilty over the whole breakup (she does, but don't let Crowley - much less Maggie - even dream about it), but because she really really wants to see what happens like a social experiment. And because she's chaotic, cmon

Watch the whole of London desperately finally getting to match with the mysterious gothic redhead with the sunglasses and the fancy car that has plagued the city for as long as anyone can remember

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 8 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Words 2.6k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"It's been two weeks," you pointed out, telling yourself and him.

"That doesn't mean you have to be okay already," Katsuki huffed at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the makeup table in front of you.

You were going on for the interview that you promised that night. Truth quirk and all. They were prepping you right now for it, covering the dark circles under your eyes as they made sure to add highlights.

"I go back to work tomorrow, I want everything to be dealt with before hand," you dismissed. You wanted your plate clean so you could throw yourself fully back into work, you were itching to use the equipment. "Besides, Aizawa is here. He'll make sure to turn off the truth quirk if needed."

He grumbled, watching you intently as you got up, makeup finished and TV ready. "I don't like this." He didn't want you to go back to step one, even if you claimed to be fine.

"I know," you patted his arm, he's been trying to convince you not to. But his PR manager advise you to do it, knowing if you switched up that the public would think the worst.

An assistant knocked on the door, peeking through when you told them it was okay. "You're on in five," and with that, they left.

You swallowed nervously. "It's not to late," Katsuki offered.

"I said I'd do it, so I will," you looked yourself over in the mirror one last time, brushing your clothes smooth before you walked to the door. Katsuki following behind as you waited behind the curtain, ready for your cue. You made eye contact with Aizawa who was on the other side, next to the interviewer with a truth quirk. You gave a small wave and gained a nod back.

"Remember that you can dodge the question, it's not considered lying," Katsuki informed you for the millionth time, going down his prep list, "I studied them, they make you say the truth but not blurt it, so you have time to form your words."

"And now we have Dynamight's girlfriend," the talk show host called your name, greeting you on stage. "She'll be giving us all the details of her juicy relationship with our number two hero! All under a truth quirk." You walked onto the stage, giving Katsuki a nervous smile before turning to wave at the crowd.

It wasn't your first interview but it was the first major one. A huge live audience that filled the room. You shook hands with Gossip, the hostess nickname for the public. Shaking hands with the truth quirk interviewer as well before sitting down. Aizawa stayed off stage, ready to cancel things if needed.

"Nell, here," Gossip called attention to the truth quirk, "Known as 'Spills' will activate her quirk and ask questions about her secret relationship with Dynamight." Nell waved at her introduction, smiling brightly. "We've opened questions to the audience as well, so let's get started," Gossip grabbed a stack of cards from her desk, nodding to Nell to start.

You crossed your legs, hands clasped in your lap as you waited for the effect.

Gossip handed Nell the cards to read out. "You were the one on the phone with Dynamight two weeks ago, correct?"

"Yes, called me while I was making dinner," you laughed trying to add anything you could to the questions because you wanted good press.

"How long have you been dating?"

"Three years," you answered easily, feeling the small buzz of the truth quirk in your mind, "Since second year of high school, even though I liked him way before that." Well, you haven't meant to say that, the truth quirk making the small bit of information slip out.

Gossip grinned at what you were saying. "And you've never liked Deku? No romantic feelings there?"

"He's like my younger brother, absolutely no feelings there," you confirmed.

"You don't even find him attractive?"

"I do, just not like that. I only have eyes for Katsuki really," you didn't even know why you were anxious at this point. Part of you was worried it'd make you slip up, say something in the wrong way and make it seem like you wanted him.

"How cute!" Gossip gushed to the crowd. "Well now that we have that settled, lets get to the nitty gritty." You paled at that.

Opening your mouth the protest before Nell interrupted you, "What about Dynamight annoys you the most?"

You rolled your eyes, "He leaves his socks everywhere. Literally only his socks, everything else he is a neat freak about."

"Anything else?" they pushed for something more.

"He literally argues with himself while getting ready, calling his teeth stupid for getting dirty," you ranted, glad you had no real issue with him.

Nell and Gossip shared a look, unsure of where to go. "What do you love most about him?" the decided to switch from negatives to positives, trying to feed his fan base.

"Oh," you paused, mind swirling with too many truths, "He remembers all the small things," you settled on, talking fondly, "He bought an extra chair for his office because he knew I hated the ones he had. He might not talk a lot but he does so much."

The crowd swooned at how fondly you talked of him.

"Why are you with him?"

"Cause I love him?" you questioned back confused, paleing when you realized you haven't directly said it yet. You've been together for three years and knew you loved each other, it was just hardly, if ever, spoken.

"How about we open questions to the fans?" Gossip turned from you and pointed at someone who raised their hand.

"What's Dynamight's biggest weakness?" the crowd called out, Nell immediately asking you the question.

You froze, Aizawa was being distracted and couldn't save you. You faintly heard Katsuki's loud foot steps coming up, trying to save you.

"He loves his back being popped," you answered, truthfully, the interviews losing the spark in their eye as you didn't give good enough gossip. "Seriously, he loves it. Practically melts afterwards."

Katsuki stood next to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to stand. "This shit is done."

"Dynamight," Nell called out as Katsuki dragged you away. The truth quirk likely making him stop. "Do you seriously love her?" She spit those words out in a manner that reminded you of the break in.

"Yeah, so fuck off," he barked over his shoulder, pulling you off stage.

---

In just the drive home, your phone was blowing up entirely. You were trending on Twitter, Tiktok, and any social media already. All they needed was an hour. You scrolled through TikTok as you curled in on the couch, swiping from one video of you to another video of you. People were gushing over your relationship, loving how he protected you and how you talked about him.

It turned the fan girls more on your side, having gotten a glimpse of your life with him. They concluded that you were one of them. You even saw videos of how you cheered him on during the first-year sports festival. They took any social media post with the two of you and over-analyzed it. Talking about how you looked at each other.

"Still looking at that shit?" Katsuki called from the kitchen. Currently packing up the leftovers of dinner.

"It's cute," you defended, "They found a photo of us during graduation," you lifted your phone over the couch for him to look, hearing him shuffle over to look.

It was a photo of you two hugging after the ceremony, probably seconds after he asked you to move in with you. "This is horrible for my image," he complained as he saw the caption, "Makes me look fuckin' soft."

You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from where he leaned over the couch, "You are soft."

He scoffed, "Sure."

Humming, you got up from the couch, moving to head to your room, wanting to grab a book from a box. You hardly unpacked, your room still empty as you've been spending the past few nights in Katsuki's room.

"Hey Kats," you called from your doorway, seeing more boxes in your room than before. Probably and entire third of boxes that you didn't put there, you were at work all day, busy with meetings while Katsuki got home early.

"What?" he asked when he met you in your doorway, looking over your room.

You stepped in, glancing into an open box and seeing Katsuki's stuff filling it. "What's all this?"

"Figured with you sleepin' in my room all the time we might as well share," he crossed his arms as he shrugged, leaning into the doorframe.

"Really?" you looked up at him, taking your eyes of the open box, lighting up inside as you looked at him.

"Why not?"

You've been waiting for this since he first asked you to move, but you knew that if you freaked out he would back out. You bit back a huge smile, joy seeping through your expression regardless. "Want to set things up then?" you offered, answering his unasked question of it was okay.

He didn't give an answer before he moved in the room fully, grabbing a box of his clothes and going into the walk in closet. You stepped out of your room, seeing how his old room was empty minus a bed. Smiling, you moved back into your room, grabbing another box of his clothes and placing it beside him before grabbing your own clothes and finally unpacking. You took two of the walls of the closet, him taking the last wall, having less clothes.

Cycling through each box until they were all unpacked, your room looking like a mixture of the two of you. His comforter but your sheets on the bed, pillows stacked the way you loved and his limited edition All Might alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. The dresser being spilt for the two of you with small touches of each of you adding to the room. Giving it personality.

It made you giddy, to see everything done up as a combined. You let a bright smile grace your features as you changed for bed, Katsuki showering in the connected bathroom while you slid under the covers. You grabbed a book from your nightstand and flipped to the bookmark.

Reading through the rest of the chapter before Katsuki came out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair under a towel as he walked in. Hanging the towel up and shaking his head like a wet dog to fluff it back up. He stayed shirtless, how he's been sleeping the past few nights, and only wore his boxers.

You eyed him over your book, watching his arms flex with any simple motion he made. Eyeing him as he walked to his side of the bed, slipping under the covers fully before wrapping his arms around your waist.

The motion was surprising, filling your stomach with butterflies as you accepted his hug. You were propped up on pillows, making it easier to read with the posture, his arm slipped easily under you, his other going under your book. He squeezed light, wearily of the wound that was still present on your left side.

"Your shower is so much better than the one in the hall," he grumbled, digging his face into your shoulder. His shampoo scenting the air as you leaned your head onto his.

"Our shower," you couldn't help but correct him.

"Do we want the old room to be your office? The other mine?" he questioned.

You closed your book, setting it on the nightstand as you held onto his arm. "Maybe one can be a guest room? Your mom called and said she wants to visit," you suggested.

"That hag been callin' you often?"

You slapped his arm for how he addressed his mom, "She's worried."

"Hm," he dismissed, "I don't care."

"The interview wasn't that bad," you changed topics, "Just made me say softer versions of the truth."

He took his head off you, moving to sit up so he could look at you, "They asked you about my weakness? Do you know how bad that coulda been?"

"But it wasn't, I did what I said and nothing bad happened," you matched his glare.

He rolled his eyes, falling back onto you.

"I surprised how cuddly you are," you said, not to tease but point out.

"Fuck off," he scoffed, moving to flip away from you. You hooked your arms over his shoulders, trying to pull him back but just got flipped back over with him, letting out a squeal of surprised. Situated right on his lap, close to his face. His hands held your thighs as you straddled him unintentionally. "'m not cuddly," he pinched your thigh.

"Sure," you teased now, "That's why you've been all over me."

"I can finally touch you, think I'm not going to take advantage of it?"

You pulled back, sitting up right on his lap as you looked down at him. Brows furrowed, "Is your watch always on?"

He shrugged, "Not always, but most of the time, 'round you."

Your stomach dropped, you moved to grab his hand and saw that it was on. Turning his quirk off. "You can't use it that often," you told him, worried.

"I turn it off before I sleep," he brushed off, moving his hand away from yours.

"When was the last time it was off around me?"

"When I was asleep last night," he answered easily.

"Katsuki," you frowned, "That's not good for you, you need to turn it off." You reached for his hand again.

He snatched it out of your hand, "The fuck's your problem?"

"I don't want every time you touch me you need that stupid watch on," you complained. It made you feel disconnected from him, like he had to hide his true self.

"It's not on all the fuckin' time," he argued.

"Then you should have no problem turning it off right now," you challenged. His face was all scrunched in distaste as he looked at you.

"I don't have shit to prove."

"You're using it as a crutch," you dug, "I shoulda never built it for you."

"So you would of prefered staying how it was? Don't want me to touch you?" he argued, getting frustrated that you were upset. Defaulting into anger.

"I'd prefer you," you clarified, "The actual you that doesn't need to suppress his fucking quirk."

"I don't need anything," he hissed, "I was doing it to make you fuckin' happy but now you're all bitchy about nothing."

You widdened your eyes, pushing yourself off his lap finally and moving to your side of the bed. "You'll kill yourself," you commented, "Not having access to your quirk is deadly."

"No I won't," he huffed, not moving from where he laided.

"You're right, cause you can turn it off," you decided, "I'm not going to touch you until I know it's off."

He sat up right, "Really?" he looked down at you.

"Yep," you popped the 'p', "I only made the watch for work training, not sex training like how you're using it."

"That's ridiculous," he tried to reason.

"Well, I'm going to be 'bitchy' about something that'll kill you," you crossed your arms, standing your ground.

He shifted, "So we're going back to square one? That what you fuckin' want?"

"Sure," your chest felt tight, hating how frustrated he was. But your side made sense. "I want you alive."

"I'm not going to die."

"Yep, cause I'm not encouraging you to turn it off anymore."

"Can't kiss you or anything then," he tried to threaten, failing to change your mind.

"Okay," you shrugged. Internally mourning the loss of it already.

"Seriously?" he was in disbelief.

"Goodnight Katsuki," you turned onto your side, making him unable to look at you anymore.

When he huffed and turned away you were worried he'd leave. Go back on sharing a room. Truly test how far you were willing to go.

But all he did was adjust onto his side of the bed, angrily turning his lamp off, darkness coating the room.

At least you had that, but who knows how long you would. You clutched at your chest as you sunk in on yourself. It would suck to go back to how it was two months ago. Not being able to kiss him, or hug him freely.

You've gotten so far and had to throw it away. But it was necessary. The nitroglycerin made his heart run slowly, he needed to have his quirk flowing or you didn't know what would happen. You weren't trying to risk it so you could feel him up.

---

-Next Part-

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[am-1-ty]

Tamed wilds and sharp claws

This is based off of @nebulaoftheprimes Zoomies! post (which i loved so much) This is the first fanfiction I've written on here so I apologise for any bad spelling/grammar in advance.

Title: Tamed wilds and sharp claws Words: 8274

Optimus Prime wasn't always the large symbol of hope. He wasn't always Optimus Prime, he was once Orion Pax and before that…well before that he was just trying to survive. Meals were scarce, even more so when many of the mechanimals would hibernate through the colder stellar cycles.

Then he was found by Alpha Trion.

He was on a scouting mission, roaming the forest when he decided to venture further out of his territory, just to see if he could catch anything good when there was shuffling to the side. The mech in front of him was no doubt a bigger predator, and while Orion had sharper plating he had only just started to grow into his adult frame.

Alpha Trion had no idea that anyone lived out in the wilderness of Cybertron; the mech in front of him looked no less than fourteen vorns, barely tall enough for a fully grown mech. Trion found himself with two options as he looked upon the young mech, plating high in defence and sharp denta bared in a warning.

It was more than a surprise to find a mech as young as he was with no others around him. It made him weary. This was meant to be a round, to secure the perimeter of the west side of Iacon. He did not expect to come away with much.

He knew that he had guards behind him, they were his trusty squadron but he couldn't just leave the poor sparkling here to fend for himself. “Hello little one” Trion tried to look less threatening, crouching down onto his pedes and holding out his servo. “Are you alone?” The mech in front of him looked up with weariness in his eyes, finials flat against his helm.

“Can you understand me?” He took the silence as a no when the sparkling leaned forwards on his servos, trying to gauge the scent of Trion when he held up his right servo. A sharp pinch is all Orion felt before the mech in front of him came closer. He hissed, a sharp warning sound before lashing out with his claws. A disgruntled shout was all he heard before his moves became lethargic and the world went black.

Trion turned to the selection of guards behind him, all looking various shades of guilty and confused. “I didn't mean shoot him” The guard to the far right hid his tranq behind his frame and Trion sighed looking back at the twitching mech, his frame still sporting his protoform colours.

“I can't leave him here” Trion moved to pick the mech up when one of the mechs behind him held up a servo “sir, is that really the best course of action?”

Trion crouched down beside the young mech, his processor whirring with all of the different outcomes of this. He nodded “I'll figure something out”. With the limp mech now safely secure in his arms a thought crossed his mind. Raising a wild sparkling would be hard granted but, as he made his way back to Iacon (planning to take the backroads of course) he couldn't help but feel that the light mech in his arms felt too right to be a coincidence. Trion smiled as he carefully made his way towards the archive tower, a new future beginning to unfold before his optics.

Orion awoke the same cycle, his processor fuzzy and the room smelled strongly of chemicals. The city of Iacon was loud and bright and overwhelming and he had woken up in a strange place that was not his nest at all. His instincts screamed at him that he was in the territory of another, bigger, stronger mech. He was lucky to be alive. That he should use this opportunity to run.

He had barely gotten off the berth when Alpha Trion opened the door slowly. Orion paused, lowering his body into a crouch (it was easier to run) before growling deeply, a warning fluctuating throughout his EM-Field.

That was until a tentative field wrapped around his, it was warm and it was soothing and it was so unlike anything that Orion had experienced. It made him stop, and reevaluate the situation. It was only then he noticed that the bigger mech held a tray, a cube filled with raw energon sat and Orion knew that it had been long before he had his last meal.

Orion wasn’t a fool, he knew what the bigger mech was trying to do. And it was working.

—

He had been introduced as Orion Pax, the understudy of Alpha Trion and they had left it at that. Ratchet was curious at most, sceptical of the mech at least. He looked small, underage and malnourished, barely grown out of his protoform. The next meeting the mech had sat in a corner behind Alpha Trion. He was silent, almost blanketing himself in the shadows that whispered behind him. His frame was small for the age that Ratchet guessed. Ten maybe eleven vorns at most. Sharp pointed joints and greyed oversized armour that seemed too clean for the amount of times he’d noticed the mech clamouring around the tower.

It carried on for the next three meetings. Orion always trailed after Alpha Trion, head low and shoulders curled. His eyes however were constantly on high alert, it was only after the third meeting Ratchet noticed he was looking for escape routes. Always seated near the window. Never properly focused.

Orion was a puzzle and Ratchet wanted to figure him out.

After the fourth meeting, the medic in training decided that he would finally introduce himself. He waited until many of the trainees and the mentors had left the room. His mentor would always make small talk with some of the others, similarly encouraging Ratchet to do the same. This however was like encouraging a brick wall to go out and make friends with birds. Ratchet never saw the appeal of making friends before Orion came along. He liked being by himself, thank you very much.

Ratchet didn't bother telling his Mentor where he was going, they were both in the room at least. The mech approached Orion, and it barely took a nano-klick before Orion’s gaze was on his, finials flicking up in interest before folding down again.

Ratchet paused, it was predatory, almost like he was analysing how to accurately offline him in a matter of klicks. Ratchet righted himself and stuck out his servo “Hey, I’m Ratchet. I'm training to be the OMC of Iacon. Who are you?" Orion didn't immediately take his hand, he stared, before quickly looking over to Alpha Trion. Ratchet didn't mind, it only intrigued him more as Alpha Trion gestured to shaking his servos and Orion made a small ‘oh’ before grabbing Ratchet’s servo and giving it a rough shake.

“Orion” the mech said as he leaned in closer, Ratchet observed as his eyes became unfocused for a nano-klick before leaning back, obviously content with whatever he had decided as his finials flicked upwards.

“Meeting pleasantries” he continued, and Ratchet’s optical ridge furrowed as he heard a small clink from Alpha Trion and whispered ‘nice to meet you’ before Orion repeated the sentence “nice to meet you”.

“Nice to meet you too Orion”

—

Orion had never taken a proper liking to Iacon. Despite never once being outside of the building that Alpha Trion had deemed safe enough to set up his own base. His own nest. During the first few stellar cycles Orion had been introduced to the world he was supposed to live in.

Taught to read and write and speak in the advanced Cybertronian language. Taught the basic mannerisms and the greeting and the behaviours. The shiny city of Iacon panning out before him when he looks out of the windows. It all looked so terrifying. His armour itched with the need to run and he wanted to bury himself in a hole, only ready to come out when he deemed it was safe from the confinements of society. Although he would never dream of not being grateful for his mentor's wisdom, he could not deny the rabid gnawing that consumed his chassis.

The first time he felt like this, the building didn't properly recover, and this was the archives introduction of the new trainee of Alpha Trion.

It had started with one or two mechs pointing out the deep grooves that were implanted into the ceiling. Then there were complaints about some thinking that there was a wild mechanimal roaming the archives.

The mystery was finally solved by an unsuspecting, undeserving mech who unfortunately looked up at the wrong time to spot piercing blue optics hanging from the top of one of the tablet shelves. She (understandingly) screamed and that’s how Alpha Trion got called down. He scruffed a squirming Orion and personally dealt with the situation.

The archives were a cold and silver polished building, and it was quiet, too quiet for somemech who was raised in the constant echoing of the wilds. Although the frequents who entered didn't mind Orion completely, they weren't the most accepting bunch. Unnerved by his silent movements and the glint of his fangs when the light got too bright. In the wilds, those who survived depended on stealth, of the silence of their steps but here in Iacon, it made him an outsider.

The group of young interns that Alpha Trion had introduced to him whispered behind his back, false rumours of where had come from -the wild, dangerous place he once called home. They didn't understand that he wasn't a threat, not to them.

But he was different, and they feared what they didn’t understand.

Expressing these thoughts towards Alpha Trion served to be a short comfort of ‘they’ll grow used to it’ and a pat of his helm.

—

It was a short trip to Kaon. That was all that Alpha Trion had described it as.

Orion was weary to get on the ship, it was loud and crackling with mech-made energy and it was something that he was taught to hide from, not hop right on. It took some luring but Alpha Trion eventually managed to get Orion on board. A small clingy Orion wasn’t the end of the world anyway.

The conference room was boring, to put it plainly. Orion had stuck to the side of Alpha Trion throughout the trip. Digging his claws into his mentor's armour when anymech came too close to him, snarling before Alpha Trion reprimanded him with a short and sharp click. His first impression thankfully kept most mech’s away anyway.

He unfortunately had to wait outside the room whilst Alpha Trion was discussing with the other higher caste council. There was a bench outside of the room, but Orion ignored that in favour of pacing the hallway, his optics scanning the building for escape routes.

When Orion reached the end of the hallway, an open window caught his attention. There he looked out upon the industrial landscape of Kaon, below the tower he stood on though was a stadium. It was loud, mechs shouting and cheering, blinding lights searched over the sky in long foul swoops. Highlighting the clouds that hung low, kissing the tops of the buildings. Orion’s attention wavered. Usually big bright lights and shouting meant danger, but since living in Iacon, it only meant something more interesting than whatever was going on in the archives.

Orion looked back at the hallway, he didn't know how long the meeting was going to take or how long his mentor would stay afterwards. Trion would always say that Orion’s curiosity would get him in the most trouble. This served as a quick and short thought and Orion jumped out the window.

—

The stadium was packed with all different types, shapes and sizes. Mech crammed into seats around the roaring stands and Orion felt overwhelmed with the amount of noise reverberating through his audials. He had half a mind to mute them when his eyes caught on the arena.

A grey mech, he was running rampant around the stage, low to the ground and fast. It made something in his chassis contract and the sudden urge to join the mech flowed through every circuit in his build.

Orion eyed the other competitor, a blue and white mech with a similar build to the grey mech. He was stock still, looking and trying to anticipate what the grey mech’s plan was. That was strike number one.

The other competitor on the stage watched as the grey mech zig zagged closer and closer to the other, dust clouds following in his wake. The grey mech turned away for a split second before grabbing a struggling competitor and body slamming the blue and white mech into the ground.

The crowd went manic. Cogs and bolts flew as the stands erupted in a tsunami of cheers and Orion muted his audials in panic, finials flat against his head, he ran to the nearest safe place he could see.

Slowly he brought his audials back online. The hallway that he had dashed into muffled a lot of the noise and he placed a servo on the cold wall. It grounded him for a moment as he slid down to sit on the gravel. Orion would regret it later when he would still have stones and sand falling out of his armour an hour later but that was a problem for future Orion. After a moment of muffled cheers and vents being blasted at full force, he heard quiet footsteps.

Orion righted himself, turning with a curious gaze to the darkened tunnel and decided to investigate. A small part of himself (a part that might not ever be snuffed out) had already declared that this hiding spot was his. He was the bigger predator, he would fight the creature that had decided to invade his territory.

It was there that he ran into the large grey mech, at least two times bigger than he was, armour sharp and eyes a blazing red. Scrap, he was definitely not the bigger predator. They stared at each other for a while the datapad in the larger mech’s dimmed at the lack of stimuli.

“Hello” The mech said, and Orion was too stunned, too overwhelmed by the events of the cycle that he forgot to respond. Too concentrated on picking apart this mech’s weaknesses whether he realised it or not. Up close Orion could see how the mech’s armour glinted with rough edges and battle scars from years of training and battles.

The mech didn't back down, didn't shy away from Orion’s predatory gaze. In fact he was more intrigued if anything. As the more he stared the higher Orion’s plating rose, an adorable attempt at intimidation.

“I didn't hear you come round the corner” the mech said “I must be more tired than I thought” the grey mech laughed. It was husky and deep and it seemed to slip down his throat like honey.

“What are you doing here young mech?” ah questions. He could do this.

“Loud” Orion croaked out and he internally cringed at the simplicity of his answer, he knew better words than that.

“Yes I suppose it is” The grey mech knelt down “i don't do well with crowds either” he smiled, and Orion noted how he did not display his denta like many others and how Alpha Trion taught him to smile.

“Im Megatronus” and oh! Orion had read about him in one of the tablets, Alpha Trion blatantly complained about his rebellion that he leads, he wasn't just a gladiator, he threw speeches left right and centre. Megatronus spoke up against the higher up’s, he connected the downtrodden, spoke up for the miners and the labourers of Kaon, the Cybertronians living underneath the heavy weight of the council’s iron rules. He was known for being the fiercest fighter in the vast chambers of Kaon's fighting arenas, where the shadows would linger, covering the air with thick smoke and sparks of raw ambition crackled, lighting up the stadiums. The Kaon fighting pits! So that's where he was!

Orion suddenly felt a lot more confident as he answered “Nice to meet you, my name is Orion”.

“Orion?” Megatronus mulled it over “that's a very interesting name”. There was a pause, Megatronus’ eyes searched his before the larger mech finally decided to break the muffled shouts of the stadium with “You’re not from Kaon are you, young mech?”

Despite how many times that Orion scuffed up his armour, how many times he rolled in the dirt or covered himself in the scent of fresh growth and outdated energon on his scouting trips. The new armour would always be washed clean at the end of the day. Shiny and presentable. Just like Alpha Trion.

“No, sir, Iacon is where I reside” hmm, it seemed like the practice conversations he would have with Ratchet is paying off “I’ve read your speeches, what you fight for is very brave and admirable”.

The mech’s optics dimmed and he scoffed "what would a prissy Iacon mech know about needing to fight” Orion knew that it wasn't a question. If not for the seething anger and annoyance that reverberated around the mech but for the curling snarl that displayed sharp white denta. Orion didn't know what he did wrong, the mech liked him before didn't he? Was it something of his status, did he have a bad relationship with Iacon?

Alpha Trion never liked him, perhaps that was it?

“Why are you here anyway? What business do you have with the Kaon pits?” The large mech pushed forwards as Orion curled back, this was a predator and Orion knew not to mess with predators. But he couldn't run away from this fight “Were you sent by the council? To find the flaws in our ways?” Orion shook his helm helplessly.

“I heard cheers, I was curious is all” Orion felt his servos hit the wall and his spark whirled rapidly, he was trapped.

Megatronus smirked, leaning closer knowing that he had gotten the spy trapped and ignoring his pleas “I wonder what the higher council will say when I caught one of their-” It was sharp and fast and painful. Megatronus cried out as Orion scrambled back, claws out and sharp denta bared in a warning. The scrape across Megatronus’ armour was steadily oozing energon and he looked at the young mech, surprise drawn across his faceplates.

“Well look at that, the glitch mouse had claws” The grey mech looked down at Orion, they had to at least be the same age but the other looked small and malnourished, sharpened armour and his optics formed slits.

“You weren't raised in Iacon, were you?” Orion paused, his vents working overtime to cool his internal workings and shook his head.

“My home was what Trion calls the wilds.” Megatronus furrowed his optical ridges before smiling and nodding.

“My apologies for my rude introduction little glitch mouse, come visit the Kaon Pits anytime, maybe then you can teach me how you did that neat trick” Megatronus smiled when the pupils of Orion's optics expanded, his finials flicking up.

“I enjoy our next talk”

—

The introduction between Megatronus and Orion sparked and lit a brilliant blazing flame and despite what Alpha Trion internally thought, he was glad at least that Orion had made a few friends other than Ratchet. He should have expected that they were going to be more of the unruly type but that did little to stop Orion. Instead it further intrigued him, Orion never found solace in Iacon, but in the dark, industrial city of Kaon he found freedom. More freedom than he had felt in the last three vorns. Megatronus did not berate him if his words got too harsh or if he didnt use the right tone, nor his fellow colleagues. They did not teach him the ways of the new society nor did they try. Instead he taught them.

He taught them how to move silently, how to blanket yourself in the shadows when capturing your prey and to never stay still. The gladiators of Kaon were far unlike the archivists, they didn't care for Orion’s past. That he had grown up surrounded by a multitude of cybertronian nightmares. They didn't care because to them, it only made him stronger. They accepted him as he was, claws and all.

It had posed a few misunderstandings when he was first introduced however, on the surface he looked like just another mech who wanted to join Megatronus’ cause. And if Megatronus trusted him, why shouldn't they? When mech’s would finish their battles and reside in the common space it took a while for them to realise that Orion scampering up the walls and along the ceiling, his claws leaving deep grooves in the steel walls, was going to become a regular thing.

Megatronus had once caught Orion doing it, mumbling something to himself about where the holes in the wall came from as one of his friends patted his arm “at least it's not a feral insecticon, we'll take the small wins”.

Orion was overwhelmed with the change in acceptance and he held onto it with both servos. He revelled in the fact that he didn't have to shrink inwards on himself, he didn't have to make himself as small and unnoticeable as he possibly could in public. He didn't have to worry about spooking patrons with his armour and claws.

He talked loud and proud, fangs glinting sharply in the low light of the city, using his hands freely in expression, and not fearing that someone would tell him to put them away in fear he would break the fragile objects around him. Mechs did more than just accept him, they embraced him into their groups, laughing when his optics were consumed by his pupils and jumped around when he got excited. In Kaon, Orion would be able to catch an electro-dove mid flight with his bare denta (something that he wouldn't even dream about doing in Iacon) and bots that were in the area would observe, nod in appreciation of a successful hunt and continue on as Orion would scarf down the bird in two bites. Megatorn (who would normally go flying with Orion at least once a deca-cycle) openly laughed whenever this occurred, it was a sound that Orion wanted to bottle in a jar and keep for the rest of eternity.

When the urge seized Orion once again, spark becoming bound within his chassis and processor dizzy with the amount of new information it held, he ran. It became clear, with both the mechs in the Kaon Pits and the surrounding neighbourhood that if you got in the way whilst Orion got his (dubbed by Megatronus) ‘Zoomies’ because you failed to get yourself out of the way in time, be prepared to become the next cybertronian springboard. Sometimes, some gladiator mech’s joined him, picking out different routes and buildings that they would all safely get over, laughing as they raced through the dark streets of Kaon. In those moments, Orion felt more alive than he had done in years.

He was no longer who he once was, unnamed mech just trying to survive out in unmarked territory, nor was he the quiet understudy archivist of Iacon that he had built his position around. Not when he was out here. Out here, he was something in between. Something wild and untamed, yet with a mind as sharp as his claws.

–

When Orion became chained by his new name, it was a lot harder to sneak out (it was a lot harder to do anything besides work). He had learned quickly during his time in Iacon that he was to place a stopper on his base instincts. That he shouldnt behave like that if he wanted to become a civilised mech. So, he did. Optimus (Not Orion anymore) was a leader, strong and powerful, and if his berth looked a bit more like a nest, or if he snarled and hissed at decepticons in the mists of battle, that was nobody’s business but his. His urge to run, to devour and maim gnawed at him beneath the weight of responsibility.

—

Ratchet wasn't an oblivious mech. He could see how Optimus had gotten twitchy at the start of the war, couped up in some base whilst trying to decipher the Decepticons messages. It was hard, especially since he was constantly surrounded by new people without having Alpha Trion to hide behind when things got too overwhelming. Becoming someone new almost overnight was suffocating for any mech.

Ratchet would see the way that his servos’ would clench, his early morning prowls around the base and the late night kitchen raids. Ratchet was sure that he had seen Optimus climb on top of the energon cooler once, but he didn't mention it.

This was why when he came into Optimus’ hab suite to find Optimus lying on one of the metal beams above his berth he put his foot down.

“You need to go out,” Ratchet said the next morning, his fingers flying on the datapad in rapid succession. Optimus paused, the crates of broken tablets clunking in front of him, “what?”

“You heard me, you’ve been cooped up in this base and it's driving both you and me mad.” Ratchet grumbled, finishing off his sentence on the data pad and turning to Optimus. “That wasn't a suggestion”.

“Ratchet, I need to be here, helping” Optimus put the box down, his armour plate rising in an attempt to make his point known. “There is too much at stake fo-”.

Ratchet stared at him, quiet and still. He crossed his arms over his chassis. Optimus shrank back.

“Just a few cycles, that's all i ask” Ratchet smiled, Optimus was always known to be big and strong, all knowing. In the end Ratchet always knew the truth. He was barely over 20 vorns after all. “It will be good for you, to burn off that energy and shutting down your higher processing”. He noted the way that Optimus seemed to stiffen.

“I know you haven’t done it in a while” Ratchet paused, forcing Optimus to make optic contact with him. “It's needed though”.

Optimus frowned, optics darting around the room trying to focus on anything but the conversation at hand, “but-”

“But nothing, as your medic I insist” Optimus scoffed at those words “playing the medic role now are we?” Ratchet dutifully ignored him “go out to the crystal spires for today and if you really don't like it come back, but i won't bother you for a few cycles if you decide to stay there”. Ratchet came close, his EM-Field wrapping around Optimus like a warm safe blanket. Optimus hesitated, if something were to happen whilst he was gone, but he trusted Ratchet. Eventually he sighed and Optimus met Ratchet's optics.

“If the medic says so”.

Ratchet smiled, and laughed, patting Optimus on his shoulder “come on, i'll see you out”.

—

The wilderness echoed around him, a quiet whisper of home enveloped his helm and Optimus smiled. Claws sunk into the ground, the familiar feeling of dirt under his pedes. He didn't walk. He ran.

—

It was supposed to be nothing more than a scouting mission, even if his spark ached for the familiar soil under his pedes and the smell of Iacon. Megatron had told his lieutenant that it was nothing more than that. Even if Starscream had looked him up and down with hooded eyes and a knowing smirk plastered across his faceplate.

"You're in charge until I'm back" Megatron had mumbled, his voice echoing round the bow (starscream had lovingly nicknamed it the throne room) "I trust you'll be responsible" Megatron turned towards the door, smiling slightly at the way starscream's face lit up.

He decided to take some lowly recruits, it would have looked odd if he just went out by himself anyway.

He had decided to scout the west side of Iacon, the Old forest was what many of the locals had called it. Some even claimed that the forest grew only a few cycles after Primus transformed himself into Cybertron. The woodland stretched for miles, bushy mountains and valleys filled with spires that stretched higher than many of the buildings that were splayed out across Iacon.

The local council had deemed it a planetary treasure and mechs from all over Cybertron would come to various parts just to marvel and stand under the hundreds of acres of towering crystal trees.

Megtron had led his small squadron to the outskirts of one of the small openings and led them inside. Telling each and every one of them to keep guard as Iacon was known for having the most top security system there was. After all, Optimus Prime (Bah, such a silly name if you asked Megatron) resided in the city. Only the best for Mr. Prime himself.

Megatron remembered a time when big titles didn't matter, not when they had each other's back. Not when each other was all they had.

A squadron up at the front raised his servo and Megatron raised an optical ridge. His audials picking up the shuffling of the trees and the clinking of leaves, optics scanning their surroundings and looking for threats between the trees.

He eventually gave up after a second, turning to his comms and hushing a quiet but harsh 'what is it?'. There was only a slight pause before a voice overcame the right side of his audial and the squadron's voice came overhead.

‘Something is coming’ he said ‘and fast. We should hide, it might be an Autobot or two’ the rest of the mechs around him stiffened up and Megatron rolled his eyes. He knew that most of the Decepicons were part of normal civilisation and society before they joined his cause. They couldn’t have not been, unless there was some secret organisation of mechs he didn’t know about.

(Which was highly unlikely)

They pushed themselves back towards the trees, blanketing themselves in the darkness of the surrounding night that whispered along the edges of the clearing. Many of their frames, thankfully, were among the greyer colours.

There was an intake of breaths as galloping footsteps came closer, pushing sheddings of crystal shards across the ground as a zap-deer came rushing through the trees, clearly in distress about something.

Megatron heard a collective outtake of vents at the built up pressure he was sure they were all experiencing. He paused at a quiet whisper of the mech from before (god forbid it he knew their name) “that's odd, I could've sworn there were two-“

That’s when he sees him. Optimus-fragging-prime in all of his large matrix holding glory. The mech barreled through the treeline, his plating littered with scrapes and dents and his claws freshly sharpened.

The squadron watched on in horror as Optimus (THE Optimus prime, oh Lord high protector and kind leader of the autobots) jumped on top of the zap-deer, pinning it down and sinking his claws into its mesh as easily as melted steel.

It occurred to megatron then two things: 1. Optimus was out of his mind, both figuratively and literally 2. Megatron has no idea how the autobots haven’t already won this war (and he’s starting to think that Optimus is losing on purpose)

Optimus’ jaw unhinged and the squadron got a short glint of his fangs before he ripped off the head of the zap-deer, the throat split open in a spray of energon and despite the nauseating fear surrounding his squadron, Megatron could help but feel impressed.

He knew that Orio-Optimus (before he was Optimus) grew up in the wilds. The active base coding in his processor looked almost to be snuffed out by the time Megatron saw him leading the autobots.

He knew though. Megatron knew that Orio-Optimus (he was Optimus now) could never forget who he was before Primus chose him. He watched on as Optimus feasted on his newest kill, almost smiling at the horrified looks on his squadron's faces.

It didn’t last long though as one of the mechs took a step back, clearly unnerved by the whole ordeal, and stepped on a broken piece of crystal. It crushed loudly under his pede and he winced, optics widening as optimus’ head spun round. Optics slit and fangs bared in a warning growl at the trespasser. (Fully intent on mauling them I hope you know)

This stopped however as Megatron stepped out in front of the mech. Forcing Optimus’ gaze on him as he approached the edge of the cleaning. Shadows chased away by the moonlight shining off of the crystals.

Optimus stared at him for a moment and Megatron could see how his optics quivered before shrinking down again.

Megatron waited, crouched on one knee, servo’s out and open.

“Hello old friend”

Optimus paused, his primal mind assessing the situation before slowly creeping closer. He noticed his own scent on the other mech, it was light and old but it was there.

Megatron felt the light brush of Orion’s face plate as he sniffed his servo. The warmth radiating off of him made him almost miss the quiet nights they would share together. Couped up in their berths with only each other’s holograms for light and nights they would sneak over the wall together. Nights that only the stars bore witness to.

It ended as soon as it started, this time with an ex-ventilation and a judging sound of a snort before Optimus turned and ran out of the clearing, his claws leaving deep sinking marks in the ground. And megatron with a warm spark.

He didn’t like what they fought for, a commanding leader who lied to their subjects and made bargains with devils. But he would never forget his first friend.

There was silence for a while before one of the mechs behind him turned to the others and whispered “anyone wanna tell me what the hell just happened?”

Megatron turned to point his cannon at them, his face plates curling to reveal a snarl. “If any single mech that was here today tells anyone else what happened here, I will slaughter you alive and feed your remains to Optimus. Is that understood?”

He got a chorus of “yes, sir!” And he relaxed, happy with the threat he imposed.

—

When Optimus got the short ping through his audial, Ratchet's calming voice echoing through his helm it was a struggle to accept his higher processing.

“Optimus, are you there?” Ratchet’s voice reverberated around his helm and Optimus found himself wincing at the volume. Resetting his voice box after a few days of not using it for the advanced cybertronian language he slowly replied to the medic.

“Here” he heard a humm from the other side of the comm and he found it difficult not to repeat the sound in an attempt to soothe Ratchet from a nonexistent threat.

“Are you ready to come back to Iacon? We might have found a lead on the Decepticons” He could tell by the clacking in the background that Ratchet was typing furiously on a tablet and Optimus internally chuckled at his friend's antics.

“I'm on my way back now” Optimus smiled and brushed himself off, excited to get one last run on his way back to Iacon.

When Optimus got back to Iacon it became a habit of Ratchet’s to shake his helm at the state he had gotten himself in, shove his friend over to his medical berth and gently wipe off the dried energon from his plating. A skill that Ratchet has perfected over many vorns.

—

“So…” Miko started, her voice trailing off in thought “He’s feral?”

Ratchet looked at her, faceplates tilting down in a scowl “he’s what?”

“Yeah” Raf looked up from his video game “what?”

“Miko” Jack started, his arm slinging down to rest on the couch “Optimus isn't feral” Miko whined turning to face him “not even a little?”

Raf shrugged and continued on with his game and Jack watched whilst Miko bugged Ratchet about Optimus’ backstory.

“Ratchet, pleaseeeee pretty please tell me some more” Miko leant over the bannister, her face uncomfortably close with the Medics as he took a step back grumbling something about personal space under his breath.

“I told you all that you needed to know, Optimus just needs some time to explore the surroundings without his higher processing getting in the way” Ratchet made his way over to the data pad that resided in the middle of the room, fingers drumming over the keyboard.

“Higher processing?” Jack asked and Ratchet turned, pleased that someone finally asked about something he could tell them wholeheartedly.

“Every Cybertronian is made with base coding, this allows them to walk, stand, communicate in their basic ways, ventilate, so on and so forth” Ratchet paused at the thoughtful expression on Jack’s face before Raf spoke up “so it's like babies?”

“Your human equivalent of sparklings would be babies, yes” Ratchet’s mouth formed a line “however cybertronian sparklings are much more advanced than human sparklings”.

“Babies” Miko spoke up and Ratchet nodded hurriedly with a dismissive “yes, yes I know”.

“Their higher processing is everything that a civilised mech has to learn when a sparkling, to be integrated into our society when they are grown” Ratchet turned away from the datapad, leaning against the railing and making optic contact with the kids “They learn things like the advanced cybertronian literature, manners and how to interact with other mech’s both their age and above”.

“So it's like the dual processing theory?” Miko interrupted and Raf looked up after his screen flashed a bloody red, signalling that he lost with a questioning “what?”

“The dual processing theory!” she bounced up to lean against the back of the sofa “It's basically how the human brain has type one processing which is more intuitive thinking and type two processing which is more deliberate thinking”.

The three figures looked at her and she furrowed her brows “what? I listen in class” she crossed her arms and mumbled “sometimes”.

“Right, yes” Ratchet cleared his vocaliser “I guess it's similar to that”.

“So…” Raf started, closing his laptop and looking up towards the medic “he's acting on instinct?” Ratchet nodded, servos rested on the railing and hummed in approval “that seems right”.

The kids mumbled among themselves, however they still seemed confused and Ratchet sighed “look, he just needs to run around for a bit, burn off the extra energy that he builds up” He turned back towards the data pad unbeknownst to the information bomb he’d just dropped on the kids.

“He’s got the zoomies” Miko whispered and a smile stretched across her face as she turned towards the boys behind her “guys! He's got the zoomies!”

Jack turned to her with an amused smile and Raf looked bewildered “he's got the what?”

Miko stood up, rocking on her heels “You know when cats get the zoomies? Optimus is a cat!”. Miko quickly brought out her phone, switching on youtube and showing them the first cat video that came up. Jack and Raf looked on as the video depicted a black and white night vision video of a house cat scampering around the presumed living room at frightening speeds. She paused, turning the phone towards her “just not at three am”. She dashed towards the railing, almost throwing herself over it “Ratchet!”

Ratchet looked over tiredly “Yes?”

“Does Optimus have zoomies at three am?” Ratchet looked taken aback by the question, looking around possibly for the secret camera that was recording this weird life he led “no, not that I know of”.

Miko deflated, and then perked up again “can we go and visit optimus?”

“No,” Ratchet said, and that was that. Miko pouted, deflating against the railing.

–

It was a couple of hours later, Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead had come back from a scouting mission that was deemed a tinsy bit too dangerous to take their partners on. Immediately as Bulkhead drove through the bridge Miko pounced.

“Bulkhead!” She yelled, sliding down the side of the railing as the bot transformed into his root mode. “Miko,” he replied, “how was your day?”

“Triangles” she waved him off “Did you know that Optimus gets the zoomies?” she grinned and Bulkhead leant down, confused.

“I'm sorry, he gets what?”

Jack looked up towards his partner, glad to see that she wasn't injured before leading into the same questions that Miko had “yeah, Arcee did you know about this?”

Arcee scoffed and leant against the railing beside the couch “I wasn't aware prime did anything other than work and look serious”.

“Anymech want to tell me about what happened on the scouting trip?” Ratchet turned away from his datapad and glared at the three mech’s. Bumblebee shrank away to jokingly hide behind Raf and see what new game he was playing today.

Arcee groaned “No energon, no decepticons, absolutely nothing besides death drops and skittish earth creatures”. Jack looked up in sympathy “not a very interesting day then?”

Bumblebee let out a tired whine collapsing against the railing as Raf sadly pat his helm.

“Not going to lie though” Arcee mumbled, thinking back to the previous conversation “I did once hear some shuffling outside my berth room and when I went to go and check, all I could see down the hallway was two massive glowing blue optics, I thought I was being chased down by a- what did you say they were called?”

“Demons?” Jack asked “Wizards?” chimed Raf “Zombies?” Miko yelled, clamouring on top of bulkhead as he quietly mumbled “Miko, are you sure you don't have the zoomies?”

“She absolutely does” Raf said as Arcee nodded towards Jack with the demons. “It was freaky but I'm pretty sure it was OP”. She looked around the base “speaking of OP, where is he?”

“Classified” Ratchet mumbled as Miko shouted “zooming!” over him. Arcee nodded and decided not to ask again.

“How fast can you run bulkhead?” Miko asked, now comfortably sitting on one of the bots shoulders. Bulkhead hummed for a moment “alt or root mode?”

“Root” Miko replied, swinging her legs absentmindedly and looking for a good cat video to show bulkhead. Bulkhead shrugged as best as he could without knocking Miko off “I don't know, I don't run a lot. I can go up to 300 miles per hour in alt mode though”.

“D’ya know how fast Optimus can run?” Miko asked, changing the subject with ease and Ratchet snorted with a mumbled “fragger puts claw marks in the walls with how fast he goes”.

“We should do a race!” Miko yelled, grinning from ear to ear and everyone groaned as Bumblebee buzzed ‘is that where the claw marks come from?’

—

It was past sunset when Optimus returned a cycle later, his frame caked in mud and his optic wild and dilated. Ratchet gently pulled him aside to the medical berth for the first in a long time. He gently soaked an old towel that he had found in the base, warm water and a dash of soap and busied himself with Optimus’ armour as he sat on the berth.

There was silence for a few clicks, only the sound of dripping water and clicking joints until Ratchet mumbled a soft “Miko wants to organise a race”.

It took a small number of clicks before Optimus asked, his voice box crackling after a few days of being unused “with who?”

Ratchet chuckled, making sure to keep his voice low so as to not disturb the other resting autobots “with you”.

“Me?” Ratchet hummed and smiled as Optimus echoed the sound.

“Have a night to think about it of course” Ratchet rinsed the towel, grimacing slightly at the murky colour of the water before continuing “But personally I don't think Miko will even remember she asked it the next time the kids visit”. Ratchet bit back a smile as he chipped off the dirt specks from Optimus’ face, the mech scrunching up his faceplates in silent retaliation.

“We don't have much to do tomorrow anyway” Ratchet placed the bucket and towel on the side of the table and turned towards the larger mech “get some rest” he smiled “medics order”.

—

Miko danced along the side of the road before making her way towards the middle, doing some sort of air guitar before bringing up the microphone to her mouth “Roll up, Roll up to the Bot 5 million!!” Miko yelled into the microphone, and everyone winced as it screeched whilst Miko decided that hitting it on the side would make it stop. Not even half an hour ago Miko had asked Optimus to a race as soon as she had entered the base after school (skipping detention as always).

He was however in the middle of a meeting with Agent Fowler at the time and the man nodded nostalgically explaining how he used to go racing with his father in ‘the old days’. Miko smiled blindingly as Optimus shrugged and agreed (anything to get him out of meetings, he preferred it much better when he would just wait outside whilst Alpha Trion dealt with the statistics)

Miko cheered and ran off to find Bulkhead and Raf (and Bumblebee) to rope them into this.

It was only when they had all gathered in the common area of the base that Jack and Arcee arrived in tow with Mrs. Darby. (Miko forced them to all be in the race).

“I don't think that’s a good name for the race” Raf called out from Bumblebee’s driving seat “we haven't been racing for 5 million years anyway”.

“Okay, yeah well i'm sure the Autobots have” Miko waved dismissively and Bumblebee let out a loud beep ‘how old do you think i am?’ as Raf snorted with laughter.

The landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, large sandy rocks scattered the sides of the road as the horizon bubbled with the heat of the July air. Ratchet sat on a nearby rock, quietly observing so that nobody would get hurt and chatting (gossiping) with June, who had positioned herself next to him.

Bumblebee, who had decided to take up the left half of the road, revved his engine loudly as Raf giggled in the driver's seat. Beside him Arcee stretched out her servos, she had taken up the mantle of running the first race on foot as it would be good for exercise. Jack, following this statement, begrudgingly asked Bulkhead if he could ride with the larger bot and Agent Fowler.

Miko would have been saying the starting times anyway so Bulkhead agreed as he revved his engine beside a grinning Arcee. Optimus had taken to running on his pedes as it seemed the most comfortable for him. If anyone asked him he would say that he was doing it for the training. A secret part of him, a deep and small part of his spark, remembered running like this with some of his younger packmates. Memories were blurry but the emotions were as clear as shards of glass. However, when he used to shuffle through these emotions, the edges cut through his spark like claws so eventually he stopped trying.

“Three!” Engines revved and Arcee dug her right pede into the ground.

“Two!” Miko giggled into the microphone and Optimus felt his processor go blank. The road stretched for miles, there were so many rocks to jump on.

“One!…” The world seemed to stop for a moment.

“Go!!” —

Arcee stopped after three rounds, her pedes hurt and the ground looked so comfortable compared to the dirt road.

Bumblebee, although he liked a good race, he much preferred to race against someone who could match his speed a bit more (he wasn't including optimus when he explained this to Raf) The yellow bot also much preferred not to be a cybertronian themed sick bag when Raf decided to start looking a bit peaky after the fifth round.

Agent Fowler had decided to give up his seat to Miko and instead do the countdown after the first round, complaining that he ‘Wasn't as young as he used to be’.

Bulkhead and Miko soared through the rounds, loud rock music playing from the bots radio as Jack had decided to ditch at round four to go and check on Arcee. For a while the only ones on the track were Optimus, Bulkhead and Miko who went up and down for Fifteen rounds until Miko admitted that she felt a bit sick after the spinning and decided to go and grab a water bottle and a cucumber sandwich that June had packed for the kids.

Ratchet had done similarly but with energon goodies and some rust sticks he’d manage to find.

Optimus, however took great pleasure in the clear roads, speeding up and down them with a speed that seemed unreal for a bot his size, the kids cheering him on from the sidelines, Bumblebee buzzing in admiration and Ratchet chuckled to himself as he watched Optimus steadily grow a bright beaming smile. At that moment he didn't look like Optimus, the great autobot leader of cybertron. To Ratchet, that moment was filled with memories of warm nights in Iacon, the dimmed lights of the medical sections and the view of the city below him. To him, he was neither Optimus nor Orion. He was something rich and wild, tired of the ropes that bound him to society. Tonight though? Tonight he was cut, unbound and free.

[konigsblog]

loser-könig and loser-reader :((

cw: harassment, creepy behaviour.

reader being more socially awkward, staying away from big, public groups, avoiding eye contact at all costs, acting like a pathetic loner in the corner...

meanwhile, könig is much more cocky and has a level of false confidence. he'll drool at the sight of attractive women in revealing clothing, being a total creep and harassing them for their number, being so creepy and desperate for sex, only to get slapped away and have a drink thrown at him. he's frustrated, drunk and pissed off at a party. he doesn't even know who invited him – if he even was invited – and just as he's about to leave, his eyes land on the pathetic, little thing in the corner, avoiding conversations and sipping on a beer.

his infatuation with you began as he laid his eyes on you. könig isn't the best with keeping a conversation going, but you'd listen to him rant about whatever, and könig couldn't seem to keep his mouth closed. he befriended you, deciding that he'd just perv on you instead, grope your body when he was horny, rubbing his hard boner against you in an attempt to signal he wanted you to be his fuck buddy!!

after becoming best friends, you'd taunt each other, mocking each other for being a freak...

you're both virgins, teasing each other for being losers while you grind against his thigh to rile him up, giggling about how he's not lost his virginity. you're not exactly one to speak, when you're a filthy perverted virgin as well – getting off to the fantasies in your head, dreaming about getting fucked by your best friend, könig, crying pathetically into your pillows.

and könig hears you; your sobbing and the soft mutters of his name, crying for him to fuck you, while you stuff your fingers into your swollen cunt, könig jerking off in the next room from yours ... :(