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that-one-malereader-enthusiast · 4 months ago

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𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 · 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

ׂ╰┈➤ ◖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐍𝐞��𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 ◗

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

cw : MDNI - S2 Arcane Act III [spoilers], parallel universe, alternate male reader, alternate Silco, slightly suggestive, top male reader, old man yaoi, mentions of nudity, chem-baron male reader, crime boss male reader, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of suicidal tendencies & thoughts, mentions of injuries, bitter sweet ending, open ended, fluff, angst, proofread. wc : 1.6k

__________________

now playing : What Have They Done To Us (from the series Arcane League of Legends) - Mako, Grey

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

prologue · epilogue ←

overview · With Silco dead and gone, it seemed as if all your strength, your will to fight, will to live — it all disappeared with him. It was as if your entire world had fallen apart all at once, that you'd been forsaken or damned by some higher power to simply live a life of constant cruelty. Just as it always has been, just as it always will be — toiling in misery as the place you once called home seemed to be burning before your eyes.

Or maybe, just maybe...it was all nothing but a bad dream.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You woke with an abrupt gasp, a cold sweat clinging onto your body after waking from a less than pleasant dream. Your breath stuttered as you fisted against the sheets to ground yourself to reality. As your vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, it was only then that you realized you were in bed within your allotted room. As the sheets stirred beside you, a slender hand moved to run itself against your bare, scar riddled body — starting at your stomach and slowly making its way up your chest — before finally settling against where your heart resided.

“You alright?” Silcos' voice cut through the quiet air of the room, now able to hear your sudden laboured breathing. He was just barely awake at the time, but the moment he not only heard, but felt you wake in such a panic, he didn't hesitate to come to your aid. The way your heart seemed to race under his touch only worried him that much more about your current state.

“Yeah, no, I just…I just had a weird dream, that's all. Nothing to worry about, just wasn't too fond of it since, well, it seemed so real. Call me crazy, but everyone we knew was there.” You wiped a hand against your own face, still half awake yourself. One hand went up to overlap the others while another went through your hair, combing it back with your fingers balling up towards the end. After a moment or so and being able to catch your breath, you laid yourself back down, resting against the pillow propped under your head.

Silco huffed out, doing his best to sit up, maneuvering a pillow behind his back as he moved positions. “Is that so?” He knew that you were prone to having vivid dreams every now and then, and when it was something intriguing or something that kept you up, he didn't mind letting you ramble on when recalling said events.

“I was some sort of…crime boss and so were you. But you were much scarier than me,” you started, only to snicker at the thought, practically hearing the other playfully roll his eyes at your active imagination. “Though, I will say it got really depressing rather…rather fast. Lots of people got hurt, people I cared about dearly. You, you were there, and suddenly…you weren't.”

“Darling,” he called out for you, though in the moment of recalling what felt like years worth of memories shoved into one dream, you couldn't help but to continue your rant before the thoughts completely disappeared from the forefront of your mind.

“You and Vander, god,” you sighed out, brows furrowing and eyes glancing about the ceiling, as if you were trying to find the image. “You two were up in arms against each other, and I…and I just sat and watched as everything burned. Like I was helpless to it all. The kids, they — Silco, bad things happened, left and right and it was as if the world was against you, us…me? And Powder, damn it, she was so…lost, so broken, and there…there was nothing I could do to—”

Your head snapped down to your arm as you felt a hand slip into your own, squeezing it reassuringly. Your head then tilted up, looking back to your companion with a slight pout on your lips.

“I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I'll always be beside you, understand?” Silco croaked out.

You gently smiled in turn, twisting to where you were laying on your side before reaching out to cup and caress against their face. “Just as I’ll be here next to you, unmoving. My love, unwavering,” you say onto him. Your thumb gently rubbed against the scarred skin of his face, tender touches under the discolored eye you'd come to adore, all before leaning in and tenderly pressing your lips against his own.

Silco reciprocated immediately, tilting his head as his own free hand came up to the nape of your neck, slowly threading his fingers through your hair before giving it a gentle tug, humming as he felt you groan into his mouth.

Regretfully pulling away, you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your heart throbbed within the confines of your ribcage as he looked at you with the same look he always gave you, the look that makes you fall harder for him everyday.

The look of absolute love, devotion, and admiration — the type of love you couldn't find anywhere else, the type you thought you never deserved.

But Silco knew you deserved more. You deserved the world and he'd give it to you the moment you asked, no hesitation.

Before long, the sheets were moved and your bodies were entangled. Your lips were quick to spoil and praise his skin, pressing hot, heavy kisses against his neck, slipping down to his collar, nipping away while he called your name in such a sultry tone. You practically melted. Your hands drifted to his sides, playing against his bare skin while his hands dipped and diverged, one against your back — brushing against the many scars you'd earned throughout the years — the other threading through your graying hair.

You were once again breathless, but for all the right reasons. A warmth surged through your body, swirling around your core as Silco egged you on.

Leaning up, you found yourself stealing a kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip before slowly pulling away, his teeth catching your bottom and tugging it shortly after. As you two parted, you couldn't help but to stare. Oh how you adored this man, would break the world for him if he asked or demanded it. What wouldn't you do for the man you loved. “I love you…”

Peering into his heterochromic eyes, he looked back into your own, just as he looked at you across the bar all those years ago. “I love you too darling, more than you'll ever know.” He pressed his lips against your once again.

“And nothing will ever change that.”

₊˚⊹ ₊

Your eyes shot open and your body lunged forward, gasping for air as if you'd been choking on fumes. You hacked and coughed before slamming yourself back against the brick wall you laid again, groaning as pain surged throughout the entirety of your body and a harsh banging against your temples. You could barely think in the moment, but you were awake enough to notice that you were somewhere shoved in an alley, slumped against one of its many grime covered walls.

Before you could even attempt to move again, there was a searing pain that seemed to occupy the entire left side of your body. Slowly turning your head, you gazed upon the rather harsh and horrific burns that were in your skin. A pained yell let loose from your lungs as you tried to sit up straight, the pain making your vision flash white.

The Lanes had gone to hell, devastation around every corner, and what was left for you?

Despair, destruction, it all came down and brought back nothing but misery. Something you'd been all too accustomed to.

“What a fucked up dream,” you sneered, wincing with every breath you took.” Maybe…Maybe just one good thought of him before it's lights out.” In the corner of your eye there seemed to be an eerie green glow that lit up the darkness of the Lanes. It caused you to weakly turn your head towards the product of such a glaring light. Only then, could you remember where you truly were, what you'd done.

You could do nothing but sit and watch as The Last Drop was engulfed in flames, the fire lapping at every entrance, window, and wall. You could still feel the flames that nipped at your flesh, eating away as you slumped yourself at the bar in those final moments. Everything started to make sense to you, watching Jinx as she lit the place a blaze, watching her shadow, foreign without her long hair.

The memory was too painful for her, and you didn't blame her.

You could never blame her.

You could never hate her. After all, she was your forsakened daughter, whether you acknowledged it or not. The last thing you could have imagined was her harming Silco, but in the end, you knew she couldn't have done such a thing on purpose, not when she missed him so dearly. Just as you did.

You wanted your suffering to end there, as sad as it seemed, you saw it as a means to an end. One last drink before a final goodbye.

The three people you held dearly, all three of them, gone. Only you remained, to suffer in their silence.

You couldn't remember if you dragged yourself out, or if someone else did, but as you closed your eyes, you could hear his voice encircling your mind.

“You aren't just a mutt fighting for scraps anymore. You're a hound willing to fight for what's yours. You aren't pathetic enough to put yourself down, nor has anyone had the strength or audacity to kill you. So do what you do best…and fight.”

It was as if he was right in front of you.

“Keep fighting, or I swear I'll take everything you care about and watch it burn. Keep fighting. For me…”

As the blaze that once was the Last Drop continued the burn, you couldn't help but to think rather fondly of the dream you had. “Maybe in another life, yeah?” You muttered to yourself. Staring off into the flames, you could feel the darkness seeping in, ready to take you down into the depths of unconsciousness once again.

“Maybe…what could have been.”

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

a/n : thank you for suffering with me, arcane gripped my heart and I'M STILL HURTING— anywho, don't forget to like, comment, or repost! Arcane requests are open! <3

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beetboxx · 5 months ago

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a siren’s call home - a.h.b x reader

pure, sickeningly sweet fluff in which you wake up to andy home from tour, finally.

content disclaimers: not proofread, religious reference, reference to sexual activity but no smut, language? maybe?

author’s note: we are so back squad. it’s only been like two years. i haven’t written in so long so we can call this a test run as i get back into the swing of things. ill update my intro post to better align with what im into! feel free to come and talk to me about prompts, ideas, random thoughts, whateva. i miiiiiiggghhhhtttt write some smut next. hope you enjoy!!

orange light intruded through window shutters like holy arms, caressing the cozy room you laid in with a touch of warmth to counteract the bite of cold at your feet and nose. what was also fighting against that was the thumb stroking the small crevice between your nose and your cheek, not doing much to help but comforting nonetheless. it was the exigence to your wakeup, a bit alarming at first until you understood the source- a large hand with long fingers attached to a proportionally long man smiling like the protruding rays of sun through draped brown, ginger-ish curls, most of it lazily pulled back into a bun at the back of his neck. you registered the vague freckles speckling his cheeks as you blinked lazily, huffing and tensing your grip in your blanket.

“hi.” he said, breathing out a laugh as you felt his calf rub up against yours and his hand smooth against your cheek to your hair to comb his fingers through it as best he could, his nails scratching your scalp ever so slightly.

you sleepily murmured a response, a quick, “hi, andy,” scrunching up your face when his palm returned to your cheek. his other ventured to your waist under the comforter, soft and delicate and squeezing the plains and valleys of your side a bit when he felt like it.

”you’re pretty.”

for such a poetic and profound man, able of expressing emotions so difficult to pin down, he was seemingly struck dumb in this moment over the sight of you. maybe in order to allow his wisdom to return, maybe in order to attempt to become impossibly close to you, his other hand paralleled the other on your waist, pulling you into his torso and wrapping around to meet at the small of your back. you nuzzled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent of a cologne reminiscent of dark forestry and a breeze and placing your own hand on his shirt at his heart to feel it flutter at your fingertips. comfortable, comforted.

“when’d you get back?” you asked, voice coming out as a mellow drawl.

andrew hummed, placed a kiss on the top of your head. “late.”

“you should have woken me up,” you whined, rubbing your eyes.

another kiss, this time to your forehead where your skin meets your hairline. his lips were warm against your chilled skin.

“you say that,” he teased, accent thick with sleep and homecoming, “but you would have crucified me had i actually done that.”

“crucified, no. pinned you to the bed in a similar pose and jumped your bones, maybe.”

you grinned, leaning your head back to allow enough room to kiss his jaw. a stubble met your lips, one that had grown out and been trimmed many times over the course of his touring, all phases of which you unfortunately, miserably, missed.

“hush. you’re dreaming.”

“am not.”

andrew laughed, you squeezed him in your arms. his laugh, although quiet in volume, felt like a dose of hospital-grade medicine to your yearning-induced blues in your system as soon as it entered your ears. his voice and presence was coaxing you awake, a process usually so difficult and taxing, flooding your growing consciousness in a pool of comfort. you missed him. you missed him like a wilted flower misses the sun. you missed him in a way that could only be equated to something of cosmic origin.

“i missed you,” he whispered. thank god.

you returned his sentiment. silence then fell like a thick blanket over you both, thicker than the one bunched up at your shoulder. it sat there for a long while, robbing the both of you of thought except for the feeling of relief. andrew’s thumb rubbed back and forth on your back, a reminder of existence so you didn’t float away. you could have sworn he fell asleep with how quiet he was and how steady and light his breathing was.

you sighed, began squirming your way to get up at least to a sitting position- but you didn’t get far, that ambition quickly being squashed by two lean arms squeezing tightly, barring you from moving away from andrew.

“no.”

a mumble, quick and straight to the point. you huffed out a chuckle, choosing not to argue and enjoy the moment. moments, andrew decided for the both of you. very long, undescriptive in quantity moments. one of his hands moved up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in closer and raking into your hair to rub at your scalp. he was wearing a gray crewneck, you noticed, with unfamiliar blue embroidery of the name of some U.S. state, vintage style. you didn’t recognize it, guessing he must have gotten it on tour at whim.

he was definitely tired- exhausted, even. the lines and circles of color under his eyes had emphasized themselves, but the sight of you gave them a certain light that made you know he wasn’t going to sleep. too many thoughts, too many things to do now that he was home and finding himself complete. he was completely overwhelmed with the feeling of being home that he felt perfectly energized- that, and three cups of coffee he had had just before laying down beside you definitely helped. he took your hand in his as if he was inviting you to a dance, pressing the back of yours against his chest. to further trap you in his web or to just get closer to you, you’ll never know.

“honey, i have to get up eventually,” you remarked, trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no you don’t,” andrew immediately replied without skipping a single beat, tightening his grip on you in case you tried to pull a fast one on him and get out of bed. one of his legs, clad in loose cotton sweatpants, swung over both of yours under the covers, effectively holding you right where he wanted you in his arms.

“andrew, i have to be a functioning member of society,” you joked, wiggling around just a little with no actual attempt to break free from his hold. truthfully, you could never: he had a hold on you and your heart so tight and driven by fate that you were damned for eternity to be consumed by your love for him.

“i can make you breakfast,” you added, craning your neck back to smile at him.

andrew hummed, clicking his tongue. “ooh. very enticing and unfair,” he said. “trying to seduce me with the prospect of food.”

“seduce? i am merely giving you incentive.”

he paused, thinking. his head tilted, as it often does when he is thinking. you took his occupation with thought for an opportunity to make a smart decision and begin your day, freeing yourself from his entrapment and slinking off the bed. he acted quick, however, letting out a noise of surprise and disappointment wrapped in one and throwing himself across the bed to your side. andrew wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood, stopping you from moving too far away from

him. not again. you figured he would be a bit clingy getting back from tour, but this was taking it too another (but very welcomed) level.

“andrew!” you whined without any real weight to it as his chin rested on your hip, grinning happily. your fingers tangled themselves in his wild hair, frizzy from travel and the usual irish moisture. his hair tie was certainly not doing a fantastic job at keeping it all back, strands thick and thin escaping its weak confines. you giggle, “you’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?”

“and you’re like.. ehm.. a siren.”

you playfully scoffed, “a siren?”

“oh, yes, a siren,” he grins, pulling your waist in until you were sitting back on the bed. “a beautiful but relentless creature with an inclination for luring and trapping defenseless men such as myself.”

“and eating them,” you added.

“whatever,” andrew said, pulling himself up to sit beside you so he could drag you into his lap. you turned yourself and straddled his thighs, arms wrapping around his neck, your intentions for the morning entirely forgotten.

he kissed your lips, softly, like he was testing the waters. you thought your breath stunk for a second with how gentle he was- until you tried to peel away, only for him to grab your face and keep you in his entrancing kiss. he deepened it, mouth opening slightly in rhythm with yours, lips dancing together like they hadn’t in so long.

you stayed that way for a while, letting andrew delicately consume your heart and soul and very essence with his neglected mouth. you could feel his breath mix with yours and span over your cheeks, and you swear it was full of helium with how light and floaty your lungs felt. you pulled away, eventually, taking a little more willpower than you would like to admit as his charged lips pulled yours in like a magnet.

he sighed, happy and content as he stared at you with big eyes, twinkling with every overwhelming emotion he had towards you.

“you have me entirely whipped, woman. like a siren.”

“i know,” you replied, kissing his lips again. “i’m glad you’re home.”

“i know.”

#beetboxx beatboxes #hozier x reader #hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fluff #hozier x reader fluff #good gods save me #i am just a girl #andrew hozier byrne #andrew hozier-byrne x reader

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chronicowboy · 5 months ago

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okay but ryan phrasing buck and eddie's upcoming stories as parallel paths where eddie is finally allowing himself to look towards the future whilst buck gets stuck in the past is so scrumptious to me. and if this were to continue on into 8b it would be the perfect lead up to a simultaneous feelings realisation. because eddie finally letting go of his ghosts, discovering who he really is without all the stipulations he laid on himself the moment his father told him he had to be the man of the house, exploring his identity, really actually thinking about his own wants and desires for once, actively seeking out joy at every turn, beginning to think about what his future actually looks like. all roads lead to buck. then you have buck stuck in the past but for the first time ever he's bisexual without the buffer of a boyfriend, he can start to look back on his life and reexamine things with this new lens of his sexuality and not feel guilty about it because he has a partner sitting opposite him, looking back on past relationships but also looking back on every relationship he's had with men and wondering, not changing anything to fit this new discovery, just poking and seeing what falls out until eventually it's just eddie left to look at and he can't but he can't not. and then it's eddie sitting with this realisation wanting to wait until buck's feeling better about his breakup and more secure in himself to say anything and knowing he'd wait forever if he had to. and it's buck freaking the fuck out and spiralling further because it's EDDIE as far as he's concerned his straight best friend. and idk the miscommunication, the possible conflict, the deliciousness...

#sami rambles #i know we're probably not getting buddie canon this season but this is like the perfect framing device to get us there #911 show #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #911 spec

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rinnstars · 7 months ago

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unsaid goodbye!

forever doesn’t exist: where you and rin grow up and out of each other

itoshi rin x reader : angst, no comfort, post-winter argument with sae, not proofread + likes and reblogs r appreciated <3

you’ve always been by his side, ever since you were little - as though you were tied to him with a red string on your pinky. if not with sae, you practically hovered and orbited around him like the sun to him, the earth. it was nature in the both of you to stick to each other, from the day you saw him from your windows playing football outside his house - perhaps the universe had drawn the both of you together. there wasn’t a doubt in your mind when you ran down the stairs to meet rin for the first time, a miraculous recovery in your parents eyes, being able to get out of bed at all with such high fever. but not even the burning and pounding head, not the suffocating nose nor the aching in your bones that screamed could stop you from opening the door and meeting him. it was a scene out of any romance novel or mangas, love at first sight when you first looked at him in the eye - those doe eyes that turned crescent shaped as a smile enveloped his face.

you’ve been stuck to him like a conjunctioned twin since then - playing with him during break time of kindergarten, letting him purposefully win and even mess around with your toys that paled in comparison to him, sitting beside him in class for the entirety of primary school, waiting for him outside his football club, always waking up by his warm pat on your shoulders. a routine that looped around in your mundane and boring life, he was the firecracker, the climax, the excitement any kid craved. it was almost inscribed into the universe that you would be his, and he would be yours the day you met — a mix between the cold and harsh winter where he became the warm and blooming spring.

a button peeled from both your uniform on graduation day - they say love only exists when youre older, when you’re no longer naive and young, when you’re mature enough but its clear the universe had fated you to be his, and him to be yours. the matching heart beat to the loud music, the shy eye glances as you two dance to the song, the hands interlocking with one another as though it was made to fit his and yours.

but forever doesn’t exist, you learn as you grow up to be fourteen, and so does he.

his dream shatter at his brother’s hand, his heart ripped apart from his chest, still pumping as it laid on the grassy field. he knows, he’s known for the longest time he’ll never match up to his brother, the genius, the prodigy, the best. yet, he cannot forget those words that’s like a sword stabbing at his achilles heel. he hates the way he looked at him, the way he feels like a insignificant insect and a bug to his brother. its rainy. and he’s all wet outside, still sitting at where his heart were ripped out from him, where his corpse should be lying perfectly still waiting for those bugs from the movies to consume. yet, he’s conscious, yet he’s awake, yet he’s not dead yet. and god does he wish to have just died right there and there. for the first time in his life, he glanced at the ball and all he can feel is anger, hatred, envy, bitterness, violence.

his eternity with being the best strikers with his brother is gone. he learns, forever doesn’t exist. but he wants it. he wants to chase this dream, this delusion, this failure all the way. and he puts his life to it - if not to become the best with his brother, who is he? who is itoshi rin compared to his brother? he has to. he has to. there’s no other option in his brain as it yells, screams and screeches at him. and so, he throws away everything in his life to pursue this unattainable, impossible, dream from another parallel universe just to rebel against this cruel fate his brother had set for him.

a day. it only took a day to abandon and leave you far behind in the past - in a faraway fairytale land where you still resided. its too quick, you think, you don’t even realise it. things you’ve taken for granted for - lunchtime, break time between classes, after school, rather than now spending it with you, he was in his own universe he’s crafted for himself. suddenly, you went from his soulmate, his best friend, his girlfriend to just another insignificant background character, meant to be invisible, play a supporting role in a now stranger’s life, be alone. for the first time in your life, itoshi rin stopped orbiting around you. it had always been natural instincts, had always come so naturally to him to stay by your side as though you were magnetic to him. you don’t realise it at first, those small moments, brushing it off as a temporary break considering his football gigs and it being exam season. you were occupied in your own world, that you failed to see that he has drifted off to another galaxy, ran off and abandoned you without you even noticing. fixated on academics, and your clubs, perhaps it was meant to be - the way you had naturally drifted away. your galaxy has occupied others - your new friends, your club friends, your new sibling, and perhaps it was running out of space. maybe, the universe had crafted you two to just be together just temporarily.

but you’re stubborn, you’ve never given yourself to fate - breaking the barriers of illness and pain just to meet him from a simple shared glance, stuck with him as he got outcasted for not playing games right in the world of playgrounds and fairytales, even attempting to play football with him despite your weak legs. and you refused, you denied this inevitable moment. forever. forever exists - fuelled by love stories and mangas and novels you read in the library, you read from your friends house and online - there’s no doubt about it in your heart. and so you run - the same way you’ve ran down the stairs, the same way you’ve ran with him to football clubs, the same way you’ve ran after him all your life with nothing but your heart to give to him - running for a single chance to catch up to his universe, to find him and jump timelines just to stay with him.

sticky notes on his desk to encourage him, love letters shoved carelessly between his books at his home, bento boxes made from scratch according to protein standards and all. all for a glimpse of the light that shone like stars in your mundane world to just glance at you, yet all that returned was nothing, not even a gaze or glance returned. but you were nothing but stubborn, rebelling against the chains of an inevitable separation set by the world. its love, you know it is, and love. love. love. so you try again, buying him soccer books that you know he reads, buying him horror movies and games, buying him all the treats you know he indulges in just for a chance for a smile - a grin that stops the world completely for you, a smile that you wish to commit to your memory for the rest of your life, a laughter that sends dopamine straight up into your brain, yet all that returns is still the same stranger that you can no longer recognise.

your life was shattered the same day his was - a humourless way of fate reinforcing how you and itoshi rin were interlinked, connected, bound together by the cruelty of fate and life. he had become winter instead of the spring that bloomed in your cold and lifeless life filled with little passion and dwelling about.

so you let go. you’ve never given up before - not for exams, not for your clubs, not when there’s a chance. you’ve believed in the impossible, a naive thought, you think looking back. its what growing up is to you - learning to let go so to not get rope burn on yourself that will soon turn into a scar if held too tightly or too long. you let go of itoshi rin, the only one that you loved - your first love, your first friend, your first spring in your illness-filled childhood. you let go of the once routinely horror nights and games where you yelped into him as he laughs. you let go of the calls while playing horror games where you memorised the map at this point. you learn to let go and learn to pass by the football books section of the library and bookshop you still frequent, now with anyone else but the first person you’ve came to him. you learn to stop associating places with him - the bus stop you’ve met every morning until then, the spot in the library where you would study whilst he read english books or football related magazine, the spot in your room where you’ve slept on his shoulder and lap everyday after school without football club in the way. you learn to let go of old trinkets - the first music tape you and he made filled with cliche love songs that you used to listen to everyday, the lucky charm bracelet he had thrown away that night clearly, the letters that he used to write and sneak to you during classes. you learn to find new people outside of the orbit he’s made for you - talking and chattering with new friends that share the same soul, taking care of your little sister that still barely understood the words you spoke, hanging out outside of school to places once filled with memories with new friends that don’t match up to the memories you once shared. you learn to live a little outside of his world - you’ve learnt new instruments, piano singing guitar whatnot, you’ve learnt new skills that he’ll never be there to see, drawing writing baking and what not, you’ve learnt to try new food rather than picking away and putting them on his plate - green beans dark chocolate and lamb meat. you let go of the free periods shared with him - spending it to catch up on your studies, with new people trying new food talking about new things, listening to new songs that wouldn’t merge well with his and yours songs you think.

and its too late for him to turn back time. he wakes up in cold sweat one night, long after you’ve let go he thinks. he wakes up, as though still in that same field where his dreams and corpse laid. he wants to scream but his throat feels as though its burning, its bleeding - he thinks. his voice doesn’t make a single sound as though he’s mute, as though his mouth is taped, suffocating in his own fear and world. yet, for the first time, he wishes he was just a little kid, he was just that naive teenager who didn’t know of the world beyond his galaxy, he was just a kid content with living in his brothers shadow a little longer. he looks at the wall, football posters ripped out in anger that night. the books on football he collected strung on the floor in piles messily, the new dvds of the latest horror movies stuck out in his old trashed out room that he only visits to sleep. for the first time, he recognises the change his room and life has gone through since that night. and for the first time in awhile, he reminisces about you - his first love, his first friend, his first spring. he looks at the lucky charm bracelet he fixed up after in his anger broke it in the field on his desk collecting dust. he looks at the sticky notes he’s taken out of his bag after holidays has arrived, in a pile tied up by a rubber band that is no longer yours. he looks at the empty spot of his bed where you used to lie in during holiday sleepovers, either sleeping or playing with his gaming consoles that your parents refused to get you. he looks at the music tape that is still on his bedside table despite not listening to it ever since he left. he looks at the reminders and trinkets of you and for the first time, he thinks he wished he never grew up that day.

he wants to turn back time, he wants to wish that he would have never went to play football the night sae returned and just stayed at your house for a sleepover as you insisted, he wants to go back to being in your orbit instead of wherever this was in this galaxy that is so dark, alone and cold. if growing up meant letting you go, he suddenly wants to go back to being a naive little child again, he wants to be a teenager again, pretending to be studying behind a textbook with you as you sleep and he reads another football magazine grabbed from the convenience store that he now realised has recently closed down. he wants to go back to how everything was, he wants to travel to a parallel universe where you and him stayed the same, where your hands never let go of each other as you both ran together into the world together.

is it too late? the unnerving continuous beeping of his phone before it goes to ‘caller is busy’ makes him feel so. its sudden, its out of the blue - as though you too had simply flipped a switch on him, locked the doors and left him in the harsh winter. just years ago, on this very day, you’ve ran down from your stairs to meet him - and he swore he saw a snow angel come to life as you greeted him - nose slightly red, puffy cheeks and with a laughter that sounded like music that sends shivers to his spine. just years ago, on this winter day, he met the love of his life, his first love, his forever. your scent had long disappeared from his room now filled with his own that he has no connection nor emotions to. your presence had disappeared apart from the physical gifts you’ve left in your wake. its almost as if you’ve died too that night - was your corpse with him in that grassy field? did you grow up too that night? growing out of him, just like sae. just like everyone in his life. an unsaid goodbye, he wants to scold you, he wants to tear you apart and beg and plead and ask why you’ve abandoned him too. he wants to say a proper goodbye to you before you left too, was he not good enough for that? he wants to be yours still even after all this time, even after all the tears and blood shed after a nightmare has gone by, but you’ve left - and maybe that’s the real nightmare in contrast to the horror movie type of ghost or slasher films he watches.

forever doesn’t exists, he finds out when he leaves school the next day and sees you with new people he doesn’t recognise, with a new hairstyle you’ve never worn with him before, holding new books and humming tunes that he is a stranger to. and god does he think you’re cruel, you’re evil, you’re just like sae for leaving him without any words.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin.<3 #itoshi rin angst #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi angst #bllk x reader #bllk angst #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst

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deadhands69 · 12 days ago

Note

Hi jade,

I’m wondering if you had any thoughts about fantasy au bkg and the nsfw “one bed” trope? 👀👀👀

It’s one of my favorite combinations and there are so many fun scenarios! I’m thinking like legend of zelda world or dungeons and dragons. Fantasy is truly the best au!!!

Yes! Fantasy AUs are so fun, I haven't written a lot but definitely read some!

As a side note, the random thoughts went over 500 wc hence the taglist. So yes, lots of thoughts!

Raw/unedited thoughts:

✴︎ You show up to an inn in the middle of the night at the same time, there's only one room left but that's fine. You both need somewhere to sleep, there's nowhere else to go, and you can easily share it. nbd. The inskeep is surprised, but who is she to say no to happy customers?

✴︎ When you get to the room, there's only one bed. Of course.

✴︎ He would be grouchy about it but absolutely try to take the high road and offer to sleep on a couch or something. That is, until you realize there’s not one. (this is fantasy land and you're not royalty, who just has one of those lying around??)

✴︎ Realizing this, he’d absolutely try to be respectful and draw an imaginary line through the middle or something but that won’t last. That bed is wayyyy too small.

✴︎ Getting ready for bed would be interesting too. Like, if he has armor, he’s taking forever peeling that off and sleeping in practically nothing because there’s no way the padding underneath would be comfortable to sleep in.

✴︎ Even if he’s not, I still can’t imagine him sleeping in much because he seems like someone who’d run hot regardless.

✴︎ Now, for the bed part. If this is DnD, roll a 20 and you slip, fall, and land directly on his dick no questions asked.

✴︎ Roll a 1 and you find yourself knocked out on the floor where you will be sleeping tonight because he just crashed the moment his head hit the pillow and didn’t notice to help you into bed.

✴︎ But more likely, you’ll end up somewhere in the middle and here’s what’ll happen:

✴︎ You both climb into the singular bed in the room, bumping arms and legs because there's not much room. Eventually you settle in, getting comfortable but you're still touching

✴︎ Suddenly,you both realize how attractive the other is to you and find yourself laying there thinking about it while also trying not to think too much of it.

✴︎ I like AUs that have at least parallel life occurrences to canon that lead to the same character development, so I would imagine Bakugo in any universe having been through some shit. Which means, sometime in the middle of the night he wakes up from a nightmare. Initially, he's worried he thrashed around too much but let's you comfort him while he calms down.

✴︎ One thing leads to another, having not felt this calm in years as he does within minutes of being in your arms, he does the only thing his brain can think to do and kisses you.

✴︎ Having been on quests, neither of you've gotten laid in a while. Thus.. Leading to some uncontrollable horniness.

✴︎ The moment you put your hands on him, you can't peel them away. Feeling everything. Muscles, scars, softer skin.

✴︎ He can't pull away from you either. No matter how hard he tries to be chivalrous, wanting to touch you combined with knowing you want him is way too much to overcome.

✴︎ It's been a while, so he's a bit awkward but gets used to being with you quickly. He also probably cums really fast the first time but makes up for it on round two. And three.

✴︎ You're up alllll night together. You don't mean to be, it just happens. Once you both accepted it was happening, the flood gates opened and you can't stop. This is unfortunate for whoever has to share a wall with you too - the bed in the room is pretty rickety and in your excitement you're not exactly going slow here.

taglist: @cccandynecklaces @harryzcherry @mynicknameisgasoline @darhinadadragon @ch3rryjampi3

✴︎ You leave the next morning together, looking exhausted. The inskeep knows exactly what happened jusy by the looks of you.

✴︎ optional: here's where we find out she set you up on purpose or something.

@moonstonejpg @kalulakunundrum @katthekat1234 @touyaeater @kennedyonce

@softknj @minksworldy @gold24fish @nickibunny23 @nyceroni

@chaOskinq @vikizzy @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820

@its-evee16

#asks #hi anon #my hero academia x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader

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imagine-darksiders · 19 days ago

Text

Angel of Highway 49.

Ch. 6 - Collateral.

Optimus & Reader. Bulkhead x Reader. Starscream x causing mayhem.

Summary: 'For the first time, your eyes meet his optics, and there’s not an ounce of recognition flickering in their glossy depths as they stare up at him in unmitigated terror.

No… not terror…. Horror.

You’re horrified by his presence, his appearance, his incomprehensible existence.'

-------------------------

On paper, the mission brief had seemed quite straightforward.

Investigate the substantial Energon signature that Ratchet's scans had turned up, get in, gather as much as they could carry, and get out again.

Optimus knew the likelihood of beating the Decepticons to the punch was minimal, at best. No doubt the only reason Ratchet's scanners had picked up anything was because raw Energon had been exposed where it wasn't before, say, by a mining operation that drilled straight into a fresh deposit laying deep beneath the Earth's crust.

The coordinates had been of immediate concern to the Prime, and as soon as the team was debriefed, he and Bulkhead drove straight out to the reference point with their pedals almost to the floor, though the latter couldn't fathom his Leader's sudden sense of urgency, and when prodded, Optimus only told him that the location was 'concerningly close to a human settlement.'

It was a mine, long-abandoned, sunk beneath the cliffs near a large agricultural unit.

They were to evaluate the subterranean passages, determine the level of Decepticon activity, preferably without engaging, and look for any opportunity to seize Energon from the enemy forces. Underhanded, perhaps, but if it secures his Autobots a few more months of precious fuel, Optimus isn't above resorting to clandestine tactics.

Of course, as it's been said before, even the best laid plans often go awry...

----------

The sturdy cables of Optimus’s neck buck and strain against their tubing as he wrenches his helm towards the Southern tunnel, his optical apertures spinning wide, blazing with a fierce, cyan light.

Hidden parallel to his leader, ducked down behind a stack of energon crates on the other side of the cavern, Bulkhead does the same, his colossal chin piece falling open with a dull ‘thunk,’ and his entire frame turning rigid with alarm.

Unfortunately for them both, so too do the frames of all four Vehicon Miners.

One by one, each of the energon drills wind down to sputtering halts as their wielders disengage from the deposits in the cave walls, pausing to turn their inexpressive masks towards the disruption.

And what a disruption it is.

A haunting, spinal-strut-chilling shriek is ringing out through the mine like an air-raid siren, more piercing than the drills and far shriller than the clanking of heavy machinery. The sound goes on and on, even when the source runs out of steam, and only the echo of a scream passes through the labyrinthian tunnels until that too falls silent, leaving every Cybertronian who heard it caught in a moment of temporary bewilderment.

Optimus is the first to recover.

Denta grit tightly behind his mask, he draws his slate-dark brow plates together and begins gauging the distance between his hiding spot and the tunnel.

Speed will be essential here… Because it’s to his utmost distress that he’s matched the vocal patterns of the distant scream to that of a human.

In the next instant, his private com-link scratches to life, and Bulkhead’s hushed, bassy voice is whispering into the Prime’s audials.

“That wasn’t Miko, Boss,” he defends his charge without hesitation.

Admirable, of course. But in this instance, unnecessary.

Optimus is well aware that the cadence of the scream doesn’t belong to any one of their charges. He has them logged, after all – though he often wishes he didn’t, if only because those audio logs serve as constant reminders that there have been times where the three younglings – whilst under his care- were in states of distress severe enough to cry out at all.

That aside however, Optimus is also confident that right now, the children are safe and sound back at the Autobot base with Ratchet, doubtless waiting anxiously for Arcee and Bumblebee to return from a routine scouting mission around Jasper’s outskirts.

But that begs the question; why would a human be down here in a defunct mine during the middle of the night?

It’s a question he doesn’t give much processing power to, not when there is a far more urgent matter at hand that needs addressing.

Loathe to wait even another second for something bad to happen to the unfortunate, wayward human, the Prime heaves himself out of his crouch and vaults gracefully over the energon stacks he’d been using as cover, barking a single, concise order to his comrade-in-arms.

“Engage!”

He’s barely cleared cover when he hears Bulkhead’s response.

“So much for the element of surprise!”

A necessary sacrifice.

If there’s a human down here in danger, they no longer have the luxury of scoping out the mine’s multiple chambers and trying to take things slow.

No matter.

What matters is getting to them before whatever – or whoever - frightened them can do any harm.

Optimus’s explosive arrival sends the Vehicons scrambling about to face him, and no less than two of the four manage to drop their handheld drills in shock.

“Prime’s here!?” one bellows, tripping over his own pedes in his haste to retreat towards the far wall.

“And he brought company!” his fellow growls.

No sooner has he spoken than an eruption of noise rocks the cavern as Bulkhead comes careening around the side of his hiding spot with all the unstoppable brutality of a runaway freight train.

“Head’s up!” he bellows, raising his hefty arm high into the air and charging for the first, unfortunate Miner.

Only one seems to have recovered in time to aim his plasma cannon at Optimus, who ducks smoothly beneath the first shot and skids along the ground on his knees for several metres, drawing up close enough to the Con to negate any space between them.

Before a second round can even charge in its chamber, one of the Prime’s enormous metal servos curls into a devastating fist, and with the struts of his forearm tensed and locked in preparation, he launches himself off his knees and –

‘CRUNCH!’

The knuckles of his servo connect with the Vehicon’s chin-guard with terrifying precision.

An uppercut, the power behind which is enough to send the dark, purple visor snapping backwards with an audible crack. Its wearer is quick to follow suit, crumpling over onto his back before Optimus’s fist has even finished its upswing.

One down…

Bulkhead has also reached his own Con, and Optimus is glad to see that he seems to have taken the Prime’s briefing to spark.

Incapacitate only, where possible.

These are miners, not warriors.

The wrecking ball perched on the end of Bulkhead’s arm is already swinging by the time the Con has his own weapon readied, and it’s promptly knocked aside by the Wrecker’s weaponised name-sake, who is quick to follow up with a single punch to the Vehicon’s helm.

One, hard wallop, and he’s down like a sack of bricks.

Two down, two to go…

The remaining pair, those clumsy enough to have dropped their drills, at least seem wise enough to recognise when they’re outmatched.

Bulkhead wheels about, shaking scraps of the miner’s visor from his fist as he glowers at the retreating taillights of two, purple vehicles fleeing as fast as their tyres can carry them down one of the adjoining tunnels.

“Aw, where’re you going!?” he taunts them as they vanish around a corner like jettisoned scrap, “I didn’t even break a sweat!”

Yet another turn of phrase he’s picked up from Miko, Optimus notes, thankfully one of her more palatable expressions. Primus knows that girl could be an honorary Wrecker through vocabulary alone…

“Leave them!” the Prime commands urgently, breaking into a loping run for the opposite passage and shifting the plates on his dominant arm to reveal his colossal, devastating barrage cannon, hoping against hope that it won’t be seeing any action beyond warding off a potential threat.

Setting off a detonative blast in this place could cause the whole subterranean structure to collapse in on itself, another reason he’d stressed the importance of melee before this mission.

Clunking footsteps soon fall into pace behind his own, rattling the shards of energon still wedged into the cave walls.

There’s little point in maintaining stealth now, not with time swiftly trickling away beneath their pedes and the deafening silence the drills have left behind.

Whoever remains in this cavern is bound to know of their presence by now.

There’s a sudden blip on his radar - an energon signature far more significant than the deposits in the walls. It’s large, and active, and at this distance, uncloaked.

With coolant pumping fervidly through his pipes, Optimus kicks himself into gear and swings around the curve of the tunnel, bringing into view a sight so gruesome, it nearly freezes his spark inside its chamber.

A surge of alarm - his very own - hits the airwaves before he can suppress it, and although he reels it back in microseconds, he knows Bulkhead has already felt it, even from several paces behind him. An answering jolt of panic crashes into Optimus’s field as the Wrecker stumbles, his armour flaring nervously.

Because if the Prime is worried, then…

Optimus doesn’t have time to reassure his teammate.

Starscream is looming up ahead, silhouetted at the tunnel’s end by an unearthly blue light.

Megatron’s second in command cuts an intimidating figure. A frame as sharp as his tongue is angled towards the oncoming Autobots, but his attention – and more horrifyingly – his missile arm is aimed near the ground at a comparatively small rock, behind which Optimus has already locked onto four human signatures.

Another surge, this time of unshackled indignation rattles the plating across his shoulders and sends his protective protocols careening into furious overdrive.

Taking point, the Prime charges from the tunnel and into the cavern first, cannon raised and whirring as he digs in his heels and slides to a halt, drawing up his colossal frame to stand tall beneath the rock ceiling, his optics narrowed to thin slits.

“Starscream,” he thunders, authoritative and unyielding. His voice booms around the cavern, drawing another short scream from one of the humans below, yet he doesn’t dare take his optics off the threat to assess their condition, not while Starscream still has his weapon aimed unwaveringly at them.

It seems his arrival was anticipated after all.

The Decepticon doesn’t balk at their presence, doesn’t raise a weapon to defend himself… Gradually, wholly aware that he has the advantage here, Starscream raises his helm and tips his chin back to flash the Prime a haughty smirk.

“Ah, ah, ah~” he singsongs airily, just as Bulkhead lumbers to a halt at Optimus’s side, “That’s close enough, Autobot scum.”

Letting out a choked sound of rage, the wrecker lifts an arm, and his ion blaster whirls to life, though Starscream is quick to nod at the rock near his pedes and add, “Surely you wouldn’t risk any collateral damage now, would you?”

The Prime’s optics flare brightly.

Collateral… A Decepticon’s preferred synonym for the children under the Autobots’ care.

As Starscream speaks, he bobs his missile tauntingly up and down, never letting it stray from the humans locked in his crosshairs.

Behind the battle mask, Optimus peels back his dermas by a fraction of an inch – the only show of frustration he allows himself.

He’s almost relieved that Bulkhead is, by contrast, able to express himself so freely.

A low, thrumming growl shakes its way out from between the Wrecker’s clenched dentas. “Bullying humans now, Screamer?” he fumes, chomping at the proverbial bit but held in check by the seeker’s threat, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size for a change? Or are you afraid you might lose?”

Starscream’s smirk twists down at the corners into a sneer, yet before he can offer some cutting retort, another voice pipes up from below, shattering his concentration.

“Bulk!?”

Two of the three Cybertronians present feel their sparks drop heavily into their tanks.

Bulkhead’s jaw hits his sternum with a ‘clunk!’ whilst Optimus’s only outward display of shock is the slight jump of his optical ridges.

“Miko!?” the former exclaims in a voice so shrill that it might have been comical in any other situation.

At last, unable to resist tearing their optics from the Con, both Optimus and Bulkhead shoot twin glances down over the top of the rock.

The Prime only needs a nanosecond to process the faces of each human below him.

And it’s just as he’d feared.

There’s Jack, a tired face gone slack with relief at seeing Optimus tower above him. And Rafael, with his youthful features pulled taut in fright, yet those wide, brown eyes are still so full of trust as they silently implore the Prime for help. Miko in the meantime is gazing adoringly up at her guardian with a gleeful smile stretching the edges of her mouth.

But it’s the fourth human that Optimus finds his optics drawn to and struck by, locking onto a face not quite as familiar as the children’s but known and inexplicably fond to him all the same.

“Y/n?” he murmurs far too softly to be heard over Bulkhead’s sputtered sounds of dismay and increasing panic.

His last parting from you was... regrettable, and still weighs heavily on his spark and processor when he finds himself alone with his thoughts.

For the first time, your eyes meet his optics, and there’s not an ounce of recognition flickering in their glossy depths as they stare up at him in unmitigated terror.

No… not terror…. Horror.

You’re horrified by his presence, his appearance, his incomprehensible existence.

In your eyes, he and Bulkhead are no different from Starscream – the true and only threat. In your eyes, what is he? Not a protector, but an aggressor. An unknown you have no hope of overcoming.

It doesn’t escape his notice; the stance you’ve taken in front of the children. With your back to them, arms flung out wide, you’re a trembling bulwark of fear and confusion and bravery, and the only thing standing between them and the Decepticon’s missile.

An unanticipated curl of pride warms the spark in his chamber, though it immediately bucks when his optics register the discolouration on your back. From his elevated angle, he has a clear and uninterrupted view of your shoulder blades… and the distressing gradient of a deep purple shadow sweeping across them, hemmed in by a frame of diffusing yellow.

It’s a bruise - he distantly recalls the term – and it’s swallowing up a vast swathe of your fragile skin, disappearing beneath your shirt. He’s seen bruises on humans before, small ones on the children’s knees and elbows after a tumble, or underneath Agent Fowler’s eyes after one too many sleepless nights. And while those instances are disquieting enough to witness, none have quite matched the extent of this one.

He knew you’d been hurt but this looks…

The lights in his optics flicker.

… He should have put his pede down… He should have just driven you straight to the medical clinic in Jasper regardless of your protests - no ‘ifs,’ ‘ands’ or ‘buts.’

Of all the humans who could have ended up down here, it would be the one who implied quite categorically that they never wanted anything to do with him again. He supposes there’s something divinely poetic about that. Divinely comedic too. Perhaps right now, Primus is looking down on his creation with a knowing smile.

Optimus, however, finds himself wishing that you were anywhere else at all, that fate had not led you down here. That it hadn’t led any of you down here, where your life and that of the children’s hang treacherously in the balance.

The nanosecond ends when you blink – and Optimus’s intake stalls to see a shimmering tear break free of your lash line and trickle down your cheek.

It strikes him that not only do you believe you’re supposed to protect Jack, Miko and Rafael from Starscream, but now that the Prime has unwittingly added himself and Bulkhead into the mix, you think you have two more perils to contend with.

Optimus flicks his optics up to the Decepticon once more as a dozen differing strategies spin around inside his processor. He’s getting you out of here. You and the children. ‘Whatever happens,’ he sends a silent promise down to the humans under his charge, his solicitous field spilling all the words he can’t verbalise, ‘I will keep you safe.’

Bulkhead feels it – Optimus’s EM field is a powerful thing, like everything else about the Prime. And right now, the noble intent of his leader hits the wrecker’s chassis like there’s real force behind it, tangible and physical.

Starscream feels it as well, though he isn’t bolstered by it like Bulkhead is. In fact, judging from the sudden wipe of his smug expression, the Seeker may have just come to the realisation that he’s currently threatening the very young, very vulnerable wards of a Prime and his powerhouse of a soldier.

Optimus wonders, between flitting through tactics, what you might think of him if you could feel it too.

-----

This has got to be one of – if not the - most vivid and dramatic nightmares you’ve ever had.

Either that, or…. or there’s a buildup of… of gasses in this mine or something, causing you to hallucinate. Hell, maybe that’s why this place was abandoned to begin with. If those old miners found coal seams or shale deposits down here, you could be standing in a pit filled with methane right now. And those beams and timber that were rotting away over your head as you made your way down…? How long have they been decomposing? Long enough for the carbon dioxide to seep out and gather at the bottom of the mine, you’ll bet!

That has to be it.

Gasses. Hallucinations. A nightmare.

Because you couldn’t possibly consider the third option, could you? That this might actually be happening. That there really are three unfathomably colossal titans surrounding you and the kids on all sides.

It certainly feels real enough. The sweat slicking your palms and hairline, the blood roaring in your ears, and the heart in your chest trying to make a jailbreak are all about as vivid as it gets.

Rationale is telling you that this isn’t happening. Your body is telling you otherwise. And it’s very hard to try and listen to both at the same time.

When the tallest of them – the one that had shouted something in a voice that sent a ping straight to your brain – lowers its ‘eyes’ to lock you in its sights, you freeze in place, helpless as a butterfly pinned to a corkboard.

Awful, cerulean light cuts like frostbite through the dimness of the mine and sends a chill sweeping up the length of your spine.

You’re stuck fast by its stare, the light cold and calculating as it burns down at you from an otherwise expressionless face.

Your own eyes sting with the effort of keeping them open, too afraid to blink, too afraid to take your gaze away lest it decide to strike the moment it thinks you aren’t looking, like a predator, a hungry wolf with designs on the back of your neck.

It’s hard to believe that the giant is the first to look away, pulling those twin beams of light from your face and turning them onto the comparatively smaller monster, the one with a blood-red stare.

Battling down the temptation to collapse onto your knees, you instead suck in a deep, noisy breath through your nostrils and clamp your lips firmly together as your gaze flits across to the third and final titan, shorter yet somehow so much larger than the others.

It’s as broad as a barn. Broader, perhaps. Military-green from head to toe, and it too sports a gaze that’s just as blue as the strange quartz that surrounds you. It cocks its colossal head at you, what passes for a head on that behemoth anyway, and the lights set in its face blink off, then on again. Once, twice… until something in your brain clicks into place.

It’s blinking.

You’d almost begun to entertain the notion that you’ve unwittingly stumbled upon some kind of Government-built superweapon, and that Terry might not be the crazy bastard you thought he was. But when it blinks at you, when it tips its head to the side as if it’s curious… in some uncanny way, you recognise it for what it is.

That’s something humans do.

That’s something living things do.

… What the Hell have you found down here?

Or perhaps the better question is, what the Hell has just found you?

“I see you’ve added another little pet to your menagerie,” the first robot suddenly drawls, breaking the silent stalemate that’s been brewing between you all for the past few seconds and sending your attention snapping back towards its slender face, chest rising and falling as you remind yourself to keep breathing, “I’m beginning to think you don’t care much for humans at all, if this is where you bring them to play.”

‘Humans?’

Your racing mind latches onto the word and sticks fast.

Humans… It called you humans. Implying that the speaker isn’t one…

The revelation doesn’t help you much, you’re still very much in trouble here, regardless of whether there’s another person operating these things or if they’re powered by something else entirely.

The longer you stand there without a shift or a waver in the makeup of the figure ahead of you, the less confident you are in your hallucination theory.

“Who’re you calling pets!?” Miko’s voice abruptly blasts past your ear, reminding you quite starkly of the three children pressed to your back, “If anyone’s the pet, it’s you! Megatron’s little groupie!”

You don’t have a chance to wonder what in the world she’s talking about.

The robot’s red glare snaps to her and zeroes in with murderous intent, its strange, malleable lip curling with hostility. Somewhere below your elbow, you hear Raf hiss “Miko!”

Just like that, you realise with a start that it doesn’t matter if you’re hallucinating or not.

If you are, and the children are too, it just means that you have to get them into fresh air as soon as possible. And if you’re not…

If this is real, if this is happening to you, then there truly are lives on the line, more than just your own.

And if this turns out to all be some incredibly vivid nightmare, well… you can nervously laugh about it once you’re awake. But for now…

“You dare address your betters, pest!?” the robot seethes, tilting its arm by a fraction, just enough to indicate that it’s aiming its missile point-blank at the girl. Behind you, there’s a mechanical whir, like a machine is being charged up.

Your stomach lurches. Somebody needs to do something….

….

………. Shit. Fine.

“Don’t!” you blurt out before you can put too much thought into your actions, taking a fumbling step forward and drawing the silver juggernaut’s furious glare, “Don’t point that at her! She’s just a kid!”

There are several intakes of breath from behind you, and one from somewhere high above your head, but your attention remains fixed steadfastly on the red-eyed robot, goosebumps springing up along your arms when it lets out a deriding chuckle and flashes you a glimpse of stark-white metal sitting just beyond its ‘lips,’ like a set of teeth.

“Oh? What have we here? Trying to play the hero,” it sneers the word with about as much sincerity as it might afford a dead fly, scoffing somehow through its gap for a mouth, “Pathetic. Ah-! Not so fast, Prime!” Quick as a flash, the robot lifts it gaze to the ones behind you, sharp red lights flashing dangerously, “Unless you want to be picking up the pieces of your little friend here for the next deca-cycle.”

You haven’t forgotten about the threats behind you, snatching a glance over your shoulder to see if the other robots are keeping their distance. To your horror, the green one is still subjecting you to its stare, blue lights brighter than ever as it observes you. The slab of grey metal stretching like a chin-guard across its face has fallen slightly to hang open, revealing a sliver of darkness behind it – its own mouth, you realise with a shudder.

Even more perturbingly, the tallest of the trio has definitely taken a step closer. You can see the indentation in the dust where its foot had rested only seconds ago, several metres back.

Your tongue sits like a lead weight in your mouth, dry as a bone.

At the silver robot’s words, it stills entirely, one of its gargantuan hands held up placatingly. Its compliance demonstrates that there must be some sort of hierarchy here. Despite the apparent size advantage, the taller robot had deferred to the one with red eyes.

That at least clues you in on which danger to prioritise, so you turn back to the first giant, your own hands unconsciously mirroring the same, appeasing gesture.

It’s an absolutely uncontested fact that you’re outmatched in size, numbers, speed, strength, and more than likely intelligence too.

So, what do you have in your arsenal?

What could you possibly have?

Think!

The toe of your boot slides forwards an inch, just an inch, just enough to bump gently into an obstruction that rolls slightly under the force.

A rapid glance down reveals the object; the torch you’d dropped earlier, sitting innocuously by your boot, dim and harmless…

… In a split second, you make a decision.

It could very well prove to be your last decision, but it’s better than staying paralyzed by indecision and fear. One option guarantees that you won’t be leaving here alive. The other… might at least buy you some time…

In one, darting motion, you dip down and swipe the torch off the ground, straightening back up just as hastily and holding it out in front of you with both hands, aiming the glass face up towards the scarlet ‘eyes’ leering down from above you.

“Back off!” is all you can think to yelp, arms and voice quaking, “O-or I’ll shoot!”

....

The silence that falls over the cavern couldn’t be any heavier.

It makes the rattling plastic of the torch that much louder in your ringing ears.

For several heartbeats, nobody moves, not the kids, not the robots, only you with your knocking knees and trembling, outstretched arms.

Then suddenly, sound floods back into the chamber, all in the form of a scratching, obnoxious cackle.

The silver robot peels the plating around its lips back and laughs at you, the missile jerking wildly with the effort to stay trained on you despite the wielder’s convulsing frame.

“Oh~! Oh, that is rich!” it chortles, smirking maniacally down at you from twenty-something feet, “You’ll shoot, will you? You’ll shoot me with that little toy of yours?” You can see the guard dropping, there’s more movement behind you. You have to act now, before the other two monstrosities get the chance to intervene.

“This toy-!” you blunder, cutting shakily through the mocking laughter, “I-is an… um, a military… tactical… laser! It’ll blind you from fifty feet!” You have no idea if robots can be blinded. You have no idea why you’re bluffing like a gambler losing at poker. The torch, if anything, is about as bog-standard as it could possibly get. You know that.

But you’re hoping the robot doesn’t.

Apparently though, it does, judging by the fresh peal of laughter tumbling out of it and ricocheting around the mine chamber.

There’s a nervous hum of uncertainty from one of the kids - Jack, if you had to guess.

“Do you really think, human, that I don’t know a bluff when I hear one?” it remarks snidely, sweeping a slender claw beneath one of the red lights in a mocking rendition of someone wiping away a tear.

“You… you don’t believe me?!” you shout up at it, wedging your thumb underneath the switch and bracing every muscle in your body, praying that this works.

Splaying its free hand across what serves as a chest, it retorts, “Do you take me for a fool? Of course I don’t believe you!”

“Good!” you exclaim as a fresh cascade of adrenaline surges through your blood, shoulders aching with the effort of keeping them aimed up at the robot’s face which contorts from a smirk to a frown at your unexpected turnaround. “Then you won’t try to defend yourself when I do this-!”

On the final word, your thumb jams the switch into position, and a stalwart beam of light flies straight and true, crashing into the robot’s pale face and dousing those ominous red lights faster than you can blink.

The effect is as immediate as it is melodramatic.

The relatively quiet air of the cavern is suddenly ripped asunder by the robot’s jarring and unexpected screech of alarm. Reeling backwards, it wrenches its gangly arms up and flings them over its face, shielding itself from the little beam of your torch.

“MY OPTICS!”

You don’t stick around to see what happens next, all too aware that the same bluff never works twice.

The very instant that missile’s trajectory changes, you’re moving, aggressively stamping down on the instinct screaming at you to haul yourself to the far passage as fast as your legs can carry you.

There are three people who need to reach it first.

The front of Jack’s shirt is the first thing your fingers latch onto when you spin around and make a wild grab for one of the kids. His eyes are on stalks, bugging out of their sockets when you unceremoniously hurl him out in front of you and shove his back for good measure, shrieking at the top of your lungs, “RUN!”

He’s still getting his feet under him properly by the time you’ve snatched up Rafael’s wrist in one hand and Miko’s in the other, all the while chaos erupts around you when several-hundred tonnes of metal begins to move.

You almost wrench the poor kids out of their shoes as you take off, haring at breakneck speed towards the tunnel you’d come down like a fire has been lit under your heels.

----

Optimus has to admit, it isn’t very often that he can be surprised anymore, though he has noticed that the instances seem to be occurring with more and more frequency of late. That they happen to correlate with his arrival upon Earth is hardly coincidental, he’s sure.

Humans, as it stands, are just about the most pleasant surprise he’s come across in his extensive travels throughout the Galaxy, and there’s always something so refreshing about their ability to deliver.

Refreshing, yes. But somehow at the same time, spark-wrenchingly, tank-churningly alarming.

Even the Prime couldn’t predict that you’d resort to bluffing with a Decepticon, let alone that the bluff had actually worked, however briefly.

The only blessing he can latch onto is ‘thank Primus Starscream has never taken an interest in human electrical devices.’

Optimus had been waiting on the tips of his pedes for the opportunity to put himself between you and the Seeker, all he needed was an opening where he could be sure that missile wouldn’t be going off anywhere near you and the children… Easier said than done, of course.

Then, in a matter of moments, as Starscream lurches away from your ‘blinding’ beam of light and throws his arms up to defend his optics, the Prime finds himself mirroring Bulkhead’s astonishment. The pair of them gawk down at you as you take their youngest charges by the hands, drive Jack ahead of you and bolt for a tunnel across the cavern whilst your weapon of choice flickers weakly in the dust you leave behind.

However, Optimus doesn’t linger for long to marvel over your quick-thinking.

“I’m BLIND!” Starscream is shrieking, tearing his servos away from his optics and blinking down at them, faceplates screwed up in anguish, “YOU’VE BLINDED ME! YOU-!...”

Just like that, he goes utterly still, giving another series of rapid blinks as he flips his very-much-still-visible servos back and forth, wings slumping at the realisation. “Oh.”

Whatever relief he might have felt, accompanied by the swelling fury that he’d been a victim of blatant skulduggery is short-lived.

Motion from the corner of his optic alerts him just in the nick of time to Optimus Prime’s fist, hurtling on a collision course with his helm. Letting out a squawk, the Seeker barely manages to duck the first strike, feeling the air rush past his faceplates as he launches himself backwards, vying for some much-needed distance between himself and his adversaries, only for his efforts to fall flat when an even more devastating force catches him unawares.

With all the driving power of a siege engine, the Wrecker’s signature weapon buries itself into Starscream’s tanks. Hard.

“ACK-!” The garbled sound jumps unwillingly off his glossa, and he doubles over at once, yet still forces his pedes to scramble backwards, curling one arm around his stomach plating while the other flies up to aim his missile at the Prime, sweeping it back and forth in wild motions to ward them back.

To his shock, both of them fall still at once, glaring murderously down at him with their own weapons raised and cocked, but otherwise motionless. And there they stand, side by side; two bridling Autobots planted stoutly between himself and their fleeing pets.

Starscream’s denta grind together audibly, and he lets out a strangled growl, tanks roiling from the force of the hit.

He’s lost the upper-hand. Without the human meat-shields, he’s only too aware that he’s just lost any and all chance at getting something out of this. And to think, he’d been mere milliseconds away from calling in Megatron to inform him that his loyal and devoted Second In Command was holding Prime at gunpoint.

Bullet quite literally dodged, he concedes. Minor blessings.

It doesn’t escape his notice how the Autobots’ optics are locked onto his raised weapon, nor how they’d turned rigid at his flaunting of it.

And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, he realises why.

It isn’t the notion of his weapon firing at them that’s paused their advance.

It’s his weapon firing at all.

‘Of course,’ he comprehends with building anticipation, his processor firing rapidly as ideas cluster around inside it, ‘The mine…’

Structurally, Decepticon scouts had deemed it sound for the finer precision of their mining drills… but the impact blast from an uncontrolled detonation that targets one of the fundamental tunnels….?

Oh-ho! Now who has the upper hand?

A flash of movement between the Prime’s legs catches his attention, and he dares a glance through them to see the little pests making their escape. And there, leading the pack is the duplicitous human who cost him his advantage.

Starscream’s optics narrow as he tracks the humans’ path, noting their trajectory.

Perfect.

Whilst the Prime and his loyal hound are bodily blocking Starscream from taking aim at their humans, neither of them have apparently thought to cover the entrance to the tunnel those humans are currently sprinting towards…

He’ll have to be quick, so it’s a good thing he already knows which tunnel will lead him out of this doomed mine, and a jet’s speed is leagues ahead of the ground-crawling Autobots and their vastly inferior vehicle modes.

“Give it up, Screamer,” Bulkhead grinds out, shifting his weight restlessly from one pede to the other, “We have you outnumbered. And outgunned."

"So I see," the Seeker wheezes, painstakingly drawing himself to his full height once again and fixing his sights on the Autobot leader, “And there’s something else you have that I don’t.”

The line is cast, and to his unmitigated delight, Bulkhead takes the bait.

“Oh yeah?” the Wrecker grunts warily, glaring down the length of his poised weapon, “And what’s that?”

With a smirk plastered across his faceplate, Starscream angles his missile to Bulkhead’s left, relishing the twin looks of shock and realisation that spark in his adversaries' optics.

He grins, a fever coursing through his wires.

“Collateral,” he says, and fires.

#Transformers #transformers prime #tfp #Angel of Highway 49 #Woah #First time writing Starscream how'd I do?#Bulkhead #Optimus Prime #Starscream #Jack Darby #Miko Nakadai #Rafael Esquivel #Reader #Protective Optimus

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