#but back when this chapter came out it was SO HUGE

[redyarns]

caught in the undertow

Chapter: 5/?

Rated: E

Relationship(s): Optimus Prime/Megatron, Sentinel Prime/Bumblebee

Summary:

When Megatron, leader of the rebellion, escaped from prison, everybot knew one thing, and one thing only: he stole an innocent with him.

---

"I'm not a sheep, how dare you!" Orion hissed, bristling at the insult.

"Oh, really?" Megatron drawled. His red optics glanced up again, and Orion's glossa went dry.

Scrap.

Who knew the cruel and ruthless leader of the blasphemous rebellion was so... handsome?

Act I, Scene X: Float Like a Butterfly…

Bee purposefully turned off all of the live feed cameras the two times that they wound up doing this, even though it was a pain to set up a feedback loop and maintain a steady visual of footage that he used from previous recordings. A lot of work was required, but it minimized the risk of anything new accidentally getting recorded, which would definitely result in being demoted even more (something which Bee wasn't even sure was possible), or worse. 

Though Bee knew the worst punishment was reserved only for criminals like the rebels, it still made his spark stutter in anxiety over the thought that there was a high chance that he and Orion could end up in one of the smaller prisons scattered throughout Iacon. 

“What’re you thinking about, Bee?” 

Bee blinked as he looked over to find Sentinel sitting on the floor, a position definitely not dignified for someone of his station. Looking at him now, even with his legs crossed and his back curled forward as he laid his chin on his servo, it was easy to glean that he was an aristocrat. 

Sometimes, Bee didn’t understand how they became friends. It was honestly a bit of a blur, but, he thought with a fond ex-vent, it had definitely been Orion’s fault. 

“Nothing,” Bee said after realizing he had been silent for too long. He glanced over his shoulder plate again, gnawing on his bottom derma as he stared at the frozen frame of Megatron still in his cell. It was just a single picture Bee had taken to act as a cover for any trails they might leave behind, but just that motionless image was enough to make him shudder. 

It was made even worse by the idea that Orion was in there, with Megatron, the city's most wanted criminal. 

“Uh, what do you think they're talking about?” Bee asked, shuffling closer to Sentinel, as if being in proximity with his friend would take away the heat of the monitor, the reminder that Orion was possibly getting beaten up or stomped on or whatever else it was that rebels liked to do. 

Sentinel’s wings twitched. They stiffened slightly and then forcefully soothed themselves, which meant Sentinel had unintentionally moved them and was trying to cover up the fact, but Bee knew better. That particular flinch meant that Sentinel was anxious; it wasn’t uncommon to see him as such, but still. 

Bee worried. 

“Who cares,” Sentinel muttered petulantly. His voice was gruff and he seemed to be more concerned with sounding annoyed than being honest, but when Bee wandered closer and his finials waved hopefully, Sentinel sighed like he was doing a huge labor and begrudgingly crossed his legs, letting Bee climb into his lap with a happy chirp. “It doesn’t matter what they’re talking about. All Orion has to do is stuff the energon down his throat and he’ll be out, easy.” 

“Right. Easy.” Bee echoed, and they exchanged hesitant glances, an undercurrent of doubt rising. 

It wasn’t like Bee was stupid, or blind. He knew that Orion was being weird about Megatron, and Sentinel, who was probably the most observant out of all of them, definitely saw it too. There was always a distracted look on Orion's face whenever the subject of the rebel came up, and it wasn’t an expression of disgust or anger. 

It was just… contemplation. Curiosity. And Bee knew personally just how dangerous Orion was whenever he became curious about something, and he also knew how dangerous Megatron was, period. So when those two things combined together, he couldn’t even begin to predict what would happen. 

“He’s been acting weird,” Bee whispered, his legs hanging over the side of one of Sentinel’s thighs while his back rested against his arm. Like this, Bee could press his audial gently to a side of Sentinel’s chassis, and if he listened carefully, he could pick up the steady beats of his spark. “I’m not imagining it, right?” 

For a moment, Sentinel didn’t speak. He was so still that if Bee didn’t hear the soft way he was venting, he would have believed he was a statue. Finally, Sentinel huffed out a slow breath, and his servo on his patella tightened its grip as he said, “no, you’re not. But don’t worry about it, okay? You know him. He’s always a little strange.” 

“Not like this,” Bee muttered. “He’s not - it’s - Sentinel, what is this?” 

He was immediately distracted by the sight of a bruise. A fresh one, judging by how it was a dark blue color, and Bee’s processor flicked up the memory of when they had met only a sol ago, when Sentinel definitely did not have a fist-shaped injury right on the top of his chassis plate. 

“It’s nothing,” Sentinel said quickly. His servo reached up and firmly covered it, and he smiled at Bee, a charming half-grin that showed his dimple, and he said, “don’t worry. I’m fine.” 

“You are not fine,” Bee cried out, leaning back so he had a wider view of his friend. A new bruise on his arm; a scratch on his neck cables; the chipping of paint on his shoulder that revealed soft silver underneath. Holy slag. These weren’t just injuries from scuffles or tripping, they were - “who’s been hurting you? Sentinel!”  

“No one is hurting me!” Sentinel said in exasperation, looking away and deliberately not making optic contact. His wings were twitching again, frigid and jerking as they fought against their master’s attempts to control them. He ex-vented slowly and muttered, “just leave it, Bee. Don’t be dramatic.” 

Bee made a wounded noise at that, and he knew Sentinel felt guilty as soon as the aristocrat flinched and tried to reach for him when Bee stood up from his lap and immediately crowded himself closer to the console, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care about the way Sentinel was looking at him, all soft and achy and hurt, and Bee wanted to cry. 

“You and Orion always try to keep things from me.” Bee sobbed, and he felt his finials droop immensely as he sniffled like a sparkling and looked to the side. He couldn't stand knowing that Sentinel felt guilty, because Bee was well aware of how much his friends hated seeing him so upset. 

But why did it matter? If they hated making him so sad, why did they keep doing it? 

Bee just wanted things to be back to where it was. Before Orion was more occupied with a criminal than the bots who had stood by his side for vorns, and before Sentinel kept coming back to them sporting new injuries and insisting that they were nothing. 

“Bee,” Sentinel croaked. The sound of him standing up and coming closer just made Bee look to the side even more, stubbornly refusing to turn his helm as Sentinel ex-vented heavily and ran a giant servo gently across Bee's side. “Come on, don't be like this. I didn't mean to say it like that, it came out wrong. I just…” 

Bee sniffed. It was a pitiful sound, and Sentinel made another soft, wounded click of static from his voicebox. 

“You have to understand. I don't deliberately keep things from you,” Sentinel murmured, his digits stroking across Bee's hip, like he always did back when they were stupid teenagers and Orion did something that got them in trouble and Bee sought comfort in Sentinel. Fragger. He knows my weak spots, some bitter part of Bee muttered. “But some stuff has to remain confidential.” 

“Go away,” Bee said miserably. 

“Bee.” Sentinel sighed. 

“Go,” Bee repeated. 

“How exactly are you two going to get home if I'm not here?” Sentinel asked in disbelief. 

That finally made Bee whirl around, and he threw his servos up as he exclaimed, “I don't know! We'll walk! We'll plummet to our deaths, and that'll be the end of that! It's not like you can even attend our crappy cremation ceremonies, not when you're too ashamed to show anyone that we're friends!” 

Sentinel looked like Bee had struck him. 

Bee immediately clasped his shaky digits to his intake, his optics wide and filled with tears as they slowly spilled over, warm and pooling into the seams of his servos as he whispered, “oh, Primus, I-I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. Oh, Sentinel, I…” 

“It's fine,” Sentinel said gruffly. 

“Sen,” Bee said weakly. 

They stood there, cooling fans whirring and the air distinctly thick with tension. Bee felt awful, like a grounder had run him over under their wheels, and the worst part was knowing that Sentinel and Orion never did any of this on purpose. They loved him, he knew they did; they loved him so much that they always kept coming to help him or rescue him from situations he caused from his own clumsiness, and Bee was so sad. 

He slowly let his optics drift down again, lingering on the bruise that stained Sentinel's chassis. Hesitantly, Bee took a step forward, and when Sentinel didn't back away, Bee sighed and traced the fist-shape of the injury as he muttered, “it kind of looks like a heart.” 

Sentinel vented harshly. For a klik, he didn't speak, and Bee thought that he was truly well and pissed off. But then Sentinel breathed in, and when he grabbed Bee's wrist, it was gentle, and his thumb slowly rubbed circles into the thin and vulnerable protoform there as he said, “yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Bee said. He tentatively climbed into Sentinel's lap again, leaning the side of his helm on his chassis and staring at the bruise. It was such an ugly color on the otherwise brilliant polish and paint of Sentinel's frame. Bee hated looking at it. “You seem different.” 

Sentinel didn't move from his perfectly still position sitting down, but there was a small twitch of gold out the corner of Bee's vision as his wings flinched. Sentinel cleared his throat. “Do I?” 

“Mhm,” Bee mumbled. 

Sentinel's gaze never wavered as he stared blankly at the monitors. There was something about his voice, something both flat and hard that Bee had never heard before, and he said, “maybe bots change.” 

Bee clung to him tighter after that. 

About fifteen kliks later, when Orion crawled out of the vent with a disturbed expression on his face and without any regard for the way both Bee and Sentinel sat together in stony silence, that was when Bee truly knew that things had changed. 

He wished it never did. 

Act I, Scene XI: You’re a Hot Shot, Baby

Sneaking back into the reception was honestly a pain in the aft, and Sentinel was already aggravated by Orion’s strange behavior as it was. His paint prickled with the uncomfortable realization that something had definitely happened in that cell, but even worse, Orion hadn’t talked about it. 

Despite Orion’s blatant disregard for rules or protocol, he always conformed to the unspoken laws of their friendship with each other as well as Bee. Always be honest with each other. It was a testament to their loyalty to each other, their unwavering faith… Nevermind the fact that Sentinel was deliberately keeping from them his near deathly training schedule. 

He reasoned with himself that it was necessary to keep them from finding out about it, even if Bee had come way too close to finding out after carefully observing his injuries up close and asking too many questions for Sentinel to dodge completely. In his defense, Bee was very hard to lie to; he did that weird, big-optic thing and his finials drooped and his purring was just so sad - 

Regardless, the point remained. Sentinel knew he couldn’t tell his friends the reality of his daily life, how hard training was, how often he got tossed around like a mere used doll. Before, he had spent most of his physical spars with Councilman Sunstreaker, as he was the most proficient at combat aside from Ultra. 

But after Sentinel’s little… scene… at Ultra’s morning banquet, his mentor had decided that Sentinel’s preliminary training with Sunstreaker was over, and instead went straight into what he liked to call “lessons of the real world”. 

They were brutal lessons. Harsh ones. Sentinel spent more time in Dr. Ratchet’s office than he did in his own berthroom. In particular, his left wrist still twinged if he twisted it a little too far, which had been a result of Ultra witnessing the way Sentinel tried to help a miner when they tripped in front of him and scuffed their patella caps to the point they started to slowly bleed energon. 

“You are the future Prime, Sentinel,” Ultra had said, glaring down at Sentinel as he vented shallowly on the ground in front of him. His wrist had snapped in a decidedly disgusting manner, and his armor had dented horribly around his arm. Ultra was simply too strong, and Sentinel too weak. “Do not ever lower yourself like that again. You’re supposed to set an example. 

“You disappoint me.”  

Just thinking about it honestly had Sentinel wilting. If he couldn’t even uphold the expectations of his mentor who had guided him and supported him all this time, what would his friends think? At least Ultra still gave him chance after chance even with all his failures, but his friends didn’t know how hard he struggled, nor how completely useless he felt. 

He was meant to be the next Prime, but he couldn’t even handle a little training with Ultra. How was he going to defend Iacon and uphold the Prime legacy if he couldn’t do at least that much? It haunted him how Ultra had looked down on him, as if Sentinel had been nothing more than dust at his pedes, and he knew that if Orion or Bee ever glanced at him like that, he would truly break. 

He sniffled a little, blinking back tears as he leaned against a wall and slumped pathetically while sipping slowly at a cube of high grade energon he had managed to grab from the tray of a passing waiter. 

The reception was in full swing, and the doors to Ultra’s mansion were propped wide open as some of the party goers spilled out from his home and out into his yard. Various mechs and femmes were sitting on the ground or steps, chatting with each other cheerfully as they clinked energon cubes and reminisced how good it felt to be part of yet another Ceremony. 

Sentinel had tried to plaster on a smile as he made his way back inside, waving to those who greeted him and offering short nods to the ones he knew a little better, but he couldn’t hide the dread inside his spark as he had slipped back inside and ignored the voice inside of him that said that he certainly hadn’t enjoyed another Ceremony. 

Inside, it was easier to blend in, and he tried not to let it bother him that no one had seemed to notice that he had left and come back. He had timed it right and slipped out just as Hot Rod had been swarmed with congratulatory messages and servo shakes, his own brief congratulations and well wishes already given, so Sentinel should have viewed it as a blessing that he had snuck away and crawled back in with no one the wiser. 

It shook him, though. He was easily one of the tallest mechs there but he felt small. Invisible. It had been different when he'd been with his friends. His armor still ached where Bee had touched him, and it was easy to recall the soft, almost wispy way the miner’s small digits brushed against the numerous bruises and dents on his plating. 

It was just as easy to remember the way Bee had smelled, like sweet nectar and that same scent of ash all miners seemed to have. But with him, it had been a rather saccharine mix, and Sentinel stared down at the energon in his servo, wondering if Bee had really noticed him. 

Had he seen him? Taken him in for who he was? How? Sentinel didn’t even know what the frag was going on with himself, so could Bee even possibly fathom any of it? 

Primus, Sentinel felt like a real piece of fragging work seeing Bee cry like that. The smallest mech was easily the most emotional out of their group of three, but that didn't necessarily mean he cried the most (that was Sentinel, unfortunately). 

Sentinel honestly hadn't meant to upset him like that, and he hated himself deeply, immensely, for doing so. Even now, his spark felt like it was eating itself alive, and he didn't know how to fix it, how to fix himself so he stopped messing up and so he could say sorry to Bee like he deserved and stop lying to his friends, his friends who loved him more than anything and the friends who he would die for - 

Slag. Sentinel dragged a servo down his face and pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge, a migraine already forming behind his optics as he did. He couldn’t handle this; the bright lights of the mansion were blinding and hazy, and the loud chatter did nothing to alleviate his stress. 

Tomorrow, he decided. He would reach out to Bee after the miner had a chance to recuperate and recharge, and Sentinel would offer him an apology, as well as a tentative plan for the both of them to hang out together, alone, so they could get back to where they were before. 

Sentinel's processor felt like it was going to explode with all his whirling emotions. Even worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about Megatron. 

Just the name was enough to have his paint crawl. 

Sentinel had heard, even witnessed, the atrocities that slageater had committed along with the rest of his blasphemous rebels. Those files were within his level of clearance, and he recalled the numerous sleepless nights he had spent perusing them, drinking in the sight of mutilated bodies, atrocious crime scenes, all while holding down his energon and trying desperately not to throw it all back up. 

It made him uncomfortable, more than he could put into words, knowing that Orion was well aware of all that and yet still chose to feed Megatron. On some level, maybe Sentinel could understand; even if he despised Megatron and his rebellion, the idea of letting anyone just starve like that in a cold cell was… disconcerting. 

Maybe even disturbing. But at the same time, why, Primus, why did it have to be Orion who had to do it? 

I didn't even know they used starvation as an interrogation tactic, some part of Sentinel's processor mumbled in uncertainty. He winced into his cube of energon and hoped no one caught it as he glanced around himself frantically and felt his wings droop in relief, as if anyone had the ability to read his mind. 

The small part of his processor, the one that always sounded like Orion and made Sentinel feel horrible any time he had to return to his Prime training, whispered about how it was cruel that Megatron was being starved. How even if he was a prisoner at Titan's Hold, didn't he deserve dignity? Compassion? 

Megatron has never wielded compassion in the entirety of his siege to raze down our city, a fiercer, louder voice reprimanded him harshly. It was reminiscent of Ultra's sharp inflection, and Sentinel set down the half-empty cube on a nearby table, feeling slightly nauseous as he did. Do not fall for his lies. 

Right, Sentinel thought, shaking his helm. Right. If Ultra and Prowl decided to starve Megatron, that was their prerogative, and definitely justified. They had their reasons, reasons that they didn't tell him because he still wasn't worthy enough to know them, a thought that made him deflate slightly. 

Regardless, he couldn't afford to sympathize with the enemy. That was crazy, and blasphemous, and - Primus, he was a terrible mech. He was going to become Prime and he couldn't even properly condemn a bot for the crimes he definitely committed. 

It was times like these that Sentinel realized how utterly miserable he was. 

“Sentinel.”

Sentinel jerked, his wings automatically stiffening and trying to tuck as close to his dorsal plates as they could in a natural reaction to the low, commanding voice that always made his servos shake and his glossa dry. 

He bowed, sweeping his arm across his abdomen like he’d been taught to do in etiquette class, and he desperately hoped that his voice wasn’t trembling as he said, “good evening, my lord.” 

Ultra Magnus slowly swept his optics down Sentinel’s frame, and it didn’t escape him that he wasn’t smiling. Before, with the other nobles, Ultra had been dazzling and charming, smirking as he told witty jokes or purring flirtations as he recounted the past Ceremonies and held beside him a flustered Hot Rod the entire time. 

Now, he was anything but. His face was distinctly neutral, and with Ultra, that meant he was displeased. He didn’t look away even as Sentinel slowly drew his arms behind himself and clenched his servos tightly, his palms dripping with coolant as he realized that that gleam in Ultra’s glare meant many things. 

He saw me leave, Sentinel’s processor whispered frantically. He felt dizzy. He was going to throw up. He saw me leave, and he’s pissed. Slag. He’s going to beat the actual frag out of me in our next - 

“Oh, my. Lord Ultra, are you planning on hogging the young Prime all to yourself, or is it okay for someone else to take a bite as well?” 

Sentinel looked up again (when did his optics slide to the floor? He was always doing that, always staring down at his pedes when Ultra was around, and he knew Ultra hated it, and yet he still did it anyway - and Primus, Sentinel was an awful student, and awful mech - ) and blinked slowly as he recognized the gleaming pink paint job and sinful curves that often kept him awake at night. 

“Miss Elita,” Sentinel said in a stilted voice, feeling decidedly off kilter and confused as Elita smiled slightly at him, sidling up close to Ultra’s side and hooking her servos around his arm. 

She was tiny compared to him, and though most bots were, the size difference between his mentor and her was rather ridiculous as she lightly leaned her helm against Ultra’s forearm, glanced up at him, and said with a slight pout on her glossy dermas: “my lord, must you hide him away in such a drab corner such as this? With a paint job as good as his, he’s good enough to eat.”  

She purred her last word, her engine revving with a quiet hum as she eyed Sentinel like he was the most enticing cube of energon in the room. 

This time, when his glossa licked at the back of his dentae, his intake wasn’t dry because of Ultra. 

“Elita,” Ultra said. His voice was lighter, a tone of slight surprise coloring his words, and he gave Sentinel one last sharp stare before he softened and smiled at the femme. Sentinel tried to ignore the sharp sting of fear that pricked his spark as he recognized the hidden message of his mentor’s look. We will discuss this later. “Have you ever been formally introduced to my pupil?” 

“We’ve only met the one time,” Elita said elegantly, waving her servo and somehow making it look both relaxed and coy as she stared up at Sentinel with glimmering optics. When she leaned in slightly, her scent of foreign jubiline berries surrounded him. He didn’t want to admit just how much that smell continued to haze in and out of his dreams (whenever he managed to recharge, anyway). “But it certainly left a lasting impression.” 

“I see.” Ultra arched an optic ridge and this time, when he looked down at Sentinel, it was not one of anger; it looked like he was almost impressed, and his touch was shockingly gentle, warm, as he raised a servo and rested it briefly on Sentinel’s shoulder plate. “Well, that’s to be expected. My Sentinel is a good conversationalist.” 

“An invaluable asset as our future Prime.” Elita agreed. 

“Indeed,” Ultra said, now looking pleased. It was honestly a miracle. These sols, Sentinel often felt like Ultra hated him rather than loved him, and it was the first time in cycles that Sentinel beamed up at his mentor in genuine happiness as Ultra chuckled. It was a buttery and deep sound, so reminiscent of the times when Sentinel was younger and more naive, and Ultra had been more forgiving. “Well, then, I’ll leave you two young bots to it. I believe Councilman Chromedome is about to overindulge, and I don’t think anyone wants to see him when he inevitably throws it all up.” 

He ended his sentence with a wink to show it was all in good humor, and Sentinel felt like he was floating on a cloud as his mentor left, for once not scowling or frowning or acting like Sentinel was the worst thing to ever happen to him - 

“You seem happy. Something you would like to share with me, my Prime?” 

Sentinel nearly jumped out of his paint job as a servo, slim and clever, curled around his elbow joint and his entire frame rose at least several degrees (his temperature gauge was screaming) as Elita pushed her chassis lightly against his arm and nearly caused him to fall over with how her sweet scent filled his olfactory sensors. 

Charge increased by 16%, his interface subsystem tried to ping his processor, which absolutely mortified him because what the frag did his system mean, charge increased by 16%? He frantically attempted to kick away the notification, plastering a smile onto his face and praying that Elita wouldn’t notice the strain in the corners as his subsystem continued to insist on its charge monitoring. 

Frag, he was pathetic. The first femme he was interested in and he was about to make a complete tool of himself in front of her. If Orion were here, he would have laughed his aft off and called Sentinel all shades of stupid. It wasn’t like Sentinel was exactly blind, Elita was definitely putting off more than a few flirty signals, but Sentinel had never - he hadn’t - 

Oh, I’m fragged, Sentinel whined in his helm as he said, “uh, just - happy to be here, Miss Elita. And, please, there’s no need to call me Prime. I haven’t even come close to finishing all my training.” 

Elita hummed, and when her optics roamed across his frame slowly, he flushed as he realized it felt like she was stripping him bare and laying him out in front of her for the taking. Throughout his adolescent and adult years, he hadn’t exactly been oblivious to the attention he got, especially after Ultra and the council deemed him as the next Prime in training, but he hadn’t really given it much thought. 

He always didn’t have enough time, was always more interested in focusing on his duties or sneaking out to meet with his friends, but - something was different this time. Maybe it was the overwhelming need he felt any time he was around Elita, who smelled so good and looked at him like he was the only thing worth paying attention to. Maybe it was his new schedule, chock full of brutal sparring and etiquette lessons, often leaving him with such little time that he didn’t even recharge most nights. 

Or maybe it was the stress in knowing that he had, once again, deliberately disobeyed Ultra, the mech who had chosen him out of everyone else, the mech who had raised and cherished him, and snuck Orion into Titan’s Hold just so he could feed the one criminal who probably deserved to be starved. 

Whatever it was, it had Sentinel’s walls crumbling like aluminum, and he was weak.  

“I already see you as a Prime, so I don’t see any problem in addressing you as such,” Elita said carefully, quietly, her digit slowly tracing a shape into his arm and causing his spark to beat so wildly in his chassis that he felt like it was going to leap out of his throat. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

“Oh,” he croaked. He cleared his voicebox, but when he spoke again, his words were husky, hoarse with his lust, and he was sure he wasn’t imaging the way her smile widened ever so slightly as he stuttered, “if that’s the way you feel, I - well, I don’t want to impose anything upon you - “ 

“Lord Sentinel!” 

Sentinel didn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the joyous call of his name, and he leaned back from Elita, feeling his wings twitch with embarrassment as he realized he’d been so close to her helm that if he had drawn any closer, he would have kissed her. 

Just the thought alone was enough to have coolant dripping down the back of his neck cables as he smiled politely and said, “Hot Rod. Enjoying your victory?” 

It was a genuine question, tinted slightly with warmth as Hot Rod approached both of them with a grin on his face and a light fluster to accommodate it. Though Sentinel didn’t know the mech personally, the stuff he did know about him, he liked. 

Hot Rod was a refreshing change of pace from the nobles. It most likely had something to do with the fact that he was only tier 12, an archivist who never really had a life outside of shelves and datapads and occasionally dust. But Sentinel liked to think it was because of how vibrant Hot Rod was - all the way from his outrageous paint job to his boisterous attitude, Hot Rod certainly didn’t look or act like someone of his caste level, and Sentinel felt a strange level of fondness for him. 

He kind of reminded Sentinel of Orion, actually. 

“Totally!” Hot Rod said enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the balls of his pedes as he beamed up at Sentinel so widely that his face plate had to be aching from it. “Can you believe it? I won! I mean, Primus knows I deserve it, but still! I thought Chromia would have me beat, you know? She’s awesome, I’m glad she isn’t pissed at me for scratching the slag out of her paint job. Oh, hello, ma’am! I’m Hot Rod.” 

Elita smiled as she shook Hot Rod’s servo, which had been stuck out eagerly. “Hello, Hot Rod. I'm Elita-1. Your race was definitely the most exciting one I’ve seen yet.” 

Hot Rod crowed in delight and immediately began to babble, both him and Elita unaware of Sentinel’s rising turmoil as he struggled to keep his smile on his face while guilt bubbled deeply within his spark. He couldn’t help but think back on his conversation with Orion during the race, when Orion had gotten upset over Hot Rod winning, and - 

He was right, of course he was right. The whole thing sucked and it hurt and Sentinel felt so bad for this young, vital and bright young mech who was about to be shot into space and never return home. No one else seemed to share that same grievance, as no bot seemed even an iota less than thrilled that the Ceremony was approaching soon, but Sentinel… 

Well. 

That wasn’t his place to think about. (Even if he hated it. There, he said it, he hated it, Orion was right, this all fragging hurt and it was stupid and cruel and Hot Rod and Tracks and all the other trailblazers deserved better but what could Sentinel do, he wasn’t even Prime, and he probably never would be with how inadequate he’d been lately - ) 

“I wanted to thank you,” Hot Rod said sincerely, interrupting Sentinel’s quickly spiraling thoughts. The younger bot seemed sheepish, maybe even a little shy as he fidgeted lightly with his digits before he straightened up and gave Sentinel a bright, crooked grin that revealed a single dimple on his right cheek plate. “For earlier! You and your friend - whoever they are - definitely made this night a little more bearable. I was kind of nervous, but…” 

He laughed. It was a quiet sound, surprisingly soft for a mech like Hot Rod, who had such a bright personality that it was hard to look away. Like this, it was a cold reminder of just how young he was, only a few vorns younger than Orion, and a couple more than Sentinel himself. 

It took a moment of struggling for Sentinel's processor to wade through his memories of that sol to figure out what exactly Hot Rod was talking about. After a micro-klik, a belated memory of him hastily telling the young mech that a nameless friend of his wanted to wish him luck on his endeavors was drawn up, and Sentinel smiled again, this time slightly helplessly as he reached out and squeezed Hot Rod's shoulder. 

Orion, Sentinel thought to himself, brushing his digits against Hot Rod's paint, almost trying to memorize the feel of his warm metal, and the softness of his protoform. You somehow reach mechs without even talking to them. I wish I was more like you. 

“Hot Rod,” Sentinel said earnestly. “Good luck.” 

Hot Rod beamed, and he was bouncing away, immediately inserting himself into a conversation with Chromia and Councilman Blurr, both of whom looked delighted by his presence, though Chromia did punch him in the arm with a smirk and said something that looked like that's for beating me, slagger. 

“You must really like him,” Elita said, nuzzling even closer to Sentinel, who looked down at her and smiled as best as he could while trying to ignore his processor pinging him about yet another charge increase. 

“He's very admirable,” Sentinel said, watching the way more and more nobles surrounded Hot Rod, who looked both flushed and proud as he raised a fist with his medal and there were various cheers and whistles throughout the area. “He deserved to win. I think he'll be missed, though.” 

Elita tilted her helm. Her optics were sharper, less hazy, and she quietly asked, “by you?” 

Sentinel blinked at the question. For a moment, he didn't know how to answer, and then he released a small vent as he realized that… “Yes. I think so. I don't know him that well, and we haven't met before this, but…” 

He trailed off. 

He sighed. It was a wistful sort of sound. “He reminds me a lot of my friend.” 

“Your friend?” 

“My dearest friend,” he said quietly. 

The only one who's always had my back.

“Well,” Elita said slowly, and she was grabbing his servo and walking backwards. Somehow, she seemed to know where she was going, even without having to look over her shoulder. Her optics were shining with something, both hungry and full of a warmth he had never seen before, and she said, “do you know what I think, my Prime?” 

“What?” He asked, a little breathless and a lot clumsy, as she pushed her pede back and it propped open a door out into the hallway. Just before they stepped through it, he looked back once, in time to see Ultra clasp a heavy servo to Hot Rod's shoulder, lean down, whisper something to him, and begin to lead him away. 

The door swung closed, cutting off Sentinel's view of them, and he had an armful of femme as Elita suddenly reached up, wrapped her surprisingly strong arms around his neck, and tugged him down fiercely so she could kiss him. 

He instantly felt dizzy, and just like that, all his worries, all his anxieties flew out of his helm and all he could think of was the way her chassis pressed against his, the feeling of her soft and yielding protoform under his digits as his servos scrambled to wrap around her waist, and the unbelievable sensation of her dermas against his. 

She giggled, the sound light and airy as she continued to kiss him, leaving him cross-opticed and unaware of their surroundings as he was the one to go backwards this time, simply following her lead as she gently pushed him to go somewhere. 

His wings hit what felt like a door, and he grunted lightly when she kicked it open, shoved at his chassis, and he fell down against the soft sheets of a berth - were they in one of the numerous guest berthrooms at Ultra's mansion? Oh, slag, he was going to be pissed if he found out that - 

Sentinel's processor short circuited as Elita climbed on top of him, sat directly on top of his interface panel, and leaned down to kiss him again. 

“Let me tell you what I think, my Prime, so listen carefully,” Elita whispered as her dermas, slick with their lubricant, slid off of his and trailed down to his audial, leaving kisses as she did, which made him shiver uselessly under her as his servos helplessly clutched at her hips. “Rod might be the victor, and your friend might be someone worth missing, but you - “ 

She moaned, low and barely audible and so sensual that he immediately bucked in response, his voice box crackling with static and garbling its words as she laughed quietly. 

“You're the hot shot around here, my Prime,” she mumbled. She pressed a hot, flashing kiss to audial, and Primus, he was drunk on her. “Don't you ever forget it.” 

Then she smiled, beautiful and succinct and all shades of lustful, as she slowly slid off of him and kneeled down just between his legs, which dangled down and had his pedes resting on the floor. 

“Now,” she hummed, looking entirely pleased with herself as her small servos began to stroke his twitching thighs. She leaned forward and nuzzled his patella, and he gasped at the sensation. 

“Open,” she said gently. 

He shuddered and obeyed. 

Act I, Scene XIII: Ya Like Jazz? 

Orion knew immediately that something was up the moment he and Bee were gently dropped off of the rooftop of their stacks building and Sentinel didn't give them his usual hug before he took off again, flying through the air and his wings twitching minutely as he refused to look back. 

Orion's optics narrowed as he watched him leave in the direction towards the center part of the city where the reception was being held at Ultra's mansion. 

Bee, who had been strangely quiet the entire flight back, was staring at the ground, and his finials were drooping in that way that told Orion he was upset. No, not just upset, but about to cry, or - he looked closer, alarmed to see the faintest tear marks down the dullness of Bee's scuffed faceplates - already cried. 

“Bee,” Orion said urgently, reaching out and grabbing his friend's wrist before he began to make his way to the door. Bee sniffled lightly, and Orion made a quiet, worried click at the back of his throat as he gathered him close and said, “what's wrong? Did something happen?” 

“No,” Bee mumbled into his chassis. Despite his petulant response, he was clinging tightly to Orion, and he let out a small hiccup before he suddenly tugged himself away and scrubbed his arm across his optics. “‘M tired. I just wanna recharge.” 

“Okay,” Orion said helplessly, watching as Bee trudged his way to the door and held it open. He refused to meet Orion's optics again, but it was clear that he was waiting for him, and so Orion heaved an ex-vent, realized that he wasn't going to get any answers from Bee, and carefully slipped past him, leading the way down the stairs and to the fiftieth floor, where their recharge bays were. 

Luckily, Bee didn’t actually let any tears spill, since Orion often felt like his processor went to mush in his panic whenever Bee got upset to the point he bawled. Regardless, Orion made and filed away a note to demand Sentinel as to what happened between them while Orion had been with Megatron to leave behind streaks on Bee’s solemn face. 

It was still early in the day, maybe only a few joors after highsol, so the floor was bustling with miners, all of whom were there at the same time since work had been canceled for the race. It was a bit of a mess, actually, and the air smelled musty, like energon dust and flakes of earth. 

It was also loud, what with all the overlapping conversations going around, as well as the sounds of several mechs and femmes practicing their sparring by jabbing at bags full of iron shavings or each other. There was a particularly harsh sound of metal meeting metal when an infuriated Arcee tackled Cliffjumper to the ground, and Orion carefully stepped around them as their scuffle continued on the dirty floor. 

They’re going to get dust in their optics, Orion thought wearily. And possibly rust-tetanus. 

“Where the Pits have you two been?” Jazz asked from a bench near their recharge bays as Bee tiredly climbed into his own and immediately curled up. Within micro-kliks, he was snoring softly, his optics offline and his servo clenching tightly at his raggedy doll that Sentinel had stolen for him some vorns ago when they were still sparklings. 

“Around,” Orion said vaguely. He regarded Bee carefully, his optic ridges furrowed into a frown as he reached out and gently brushed his digit tips against Bee’s forehelm, trying to rub out the upset wrinkle that had formed there. It worked, but Bee mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like a sniffle as he turned away and his venting deepened even more. 

“Right, around,” Jazz said with a fair amount of amusement. He seemed at ease, with a towel around his neck cables and a cube of low refined energon in his servo. Orion tried not to stare at it, aware that his compartments were filled with a much higher quality kind; though he wanted to share it with him, there was no way he could explain how he got them without giving away his relationship with Sentinel. 

“What’s with him?” Jazz continued, jerking his chin plate slightly towards Bee. He tilted his helm and said, “he looks like he just watched someone get unscrewed in front of him. Whoa, geeze, bud, are you okay?” 

Jazz grunted a small noise of both surprise and effort as Orion collapsed onto the bench next to him, almost immediately drooping onto the other mech and groaning lightly as Jazz began to automatically massage at his shoulder plates. 

Jazz swore softly and said, “what the frag is going on with you two? And Primus, Orion, you’re tenser than a damn coil! Haven’t you been going to the medbay? You know it’s protocol to go every few orns. If you’re too sick or injured and you get hurt on the job then it’s all our afts that have to look after you and make sure you don’t get yourself offlined.” 

“As if Ricks would ever give me enough time off to get to the medbay, much less rest,” Orion retorted with a small laugh, though that quickly turned into a wince when Jazz mercilessly dug a thumb into a particularly hard knot and didn’t let up even when Orion punched him in the arm. “Ow! Primus, Jazz, you’re supposed to be massaging me, not torture me!” 

“No, you’re supposed to be getting massaged by a professional, but you haven’t even gone to see a medic like you’re required to in at least half a vorn,” Jazz deadpanned in a way that suggested his optics were rolling behind his visor. At least he let his servos drop, a miracle considering Orion was about to develop a crick in his neck from how he kept flinching with each unrelenting dig at his plates. “You sure everything’s okay?” 

Orion let his gaze drift back to Bee, who, like Orion, had been born and grown up in the slums and then eventually the stacks, so the constant noise around him didn’t even remotely rouse him in his recharge. It was better seeing him like this, resting and not keeping damn secrets from Orion. 

But Orion knew he was being a hypocrite, and he was about to be a hypocrite again as he kept his intake shut and didn’t answer Jazz’s subtle but prodding question. 

No, Orion’s processor wanted to scream. Everything is definitely not okay. 

Bee and Sentinel were becoming more and more closed off around him, and he hated it. But he couldn’t even point it out, not without making it obvious that he was just as guilty when it came to keeping secrets from his friends. 

It wasn’t like Orion wanted to lie to them, and well, it technically wasn’t lying, since it was really just… concealing the truth (a lie of omission, something in his helm hissed. It sounded too much like Sentinel again, and Orion felt a little sick) and trying to protect them. 

And, really, what else could Orion do? It felt like the weight of the world was suddenly being pressed onto his shoulder plates, like he was the only one lifting up the sky and shaking underneath it as he did. He had never expected anything to come forth from his conversations with Megatron, since as much as Sentinel liked to tease and Ricks liked to accuse, Orion wasn’t stupid. 

There was a chance, a very high chance, that everything Megatron had told him was a lie. A manipulation tactic to squirm under his paint job and make his veins race, to force his adrenaline to blow up and get him into trouble. And as much as Orion wasn’t stupid, Megatron wasn’t exactly unintelligent, either. 

How could he be? No one stupid could just start a rebellion and then lead it so carefully that up until now, no bot had ever been caught. So if Megatron saw Orion, a foolish mech who was curious about him, who was sympathetic of him, then the smartest choice would be to try and sway him in his favor so that Orion would eventually do something idiotic, like break him out of prison. 

Not that that would ever happen. Of course not. Orion knew well enough that Megatron was playing him, and that everything he said, his blatant seductions and his honeyed words, were being used to caress his audials and weaken his already admittedly soft resolve when it came to a mech he found so attractive. 

Frag, Orion thought a little hysterically. He knew all of this, and his spark still yearned for answers. He had to see it for himself, figure out if Megatron really was lying to him or not, even though his processor screamed at him that the rebel was an inherent manipulator and would do anything to get Orion to believe him. 

He let out a soft ex-vent, ignored the way Jazz looked at him with a small noise of skepticism, and tried to think about what Megatron had told him. 

There was something about the Ceremony that Megatron wanted him to look into, and he had said that the archives might have the answer, an idea that almost had Orion groaning as he dropped his helm and ran a servo over the back of it in frustration. 

The Golden Archives was considerably hard to get into. Not because it had guards or anything - the entire building of records was open to the public, so it was trivially easy to waltz inside, grab any kind of datapad, and spend the sol reading as much as your spark desired. 

It was open to the public, yes, but only to bots who were caste level 10 or higher. None of the low caste bots were allowed in, since the middle and high level Cybertronians didn’t like to see the dirt and grime that most miners trailed in. There was also no need for it, since none of the low castes were given an education. 

The only reason Orion and Bee even knew how to read, much less write, was because Sentinel made an effort to continuously sneak them tomes and educational texts as much as he could, either from the archives or from his own personal stash. 

The archives were also in the most well-lit and populated part of the city, near the council hall and the highly monitored, luxurious neighborhoods of the noble caste bots. With his size, poor paint job, and constant scent of energon dust, it would be a miracle if he could even get to two streets over near the archives before getting caught and thrown into the civil prison for a sol or two. 

Again. 

Frag, this was impossible, some part of him screamed. He felt accusatory, angry, as an image of Megatron’s handsome facial plates wavered through his processor. The bucket of bolts was probably trying to teach him a stupid lesson or something, to show him that he shouldn’t stick his nasal ridge where it didn’t belong. 

After all, Orion didn’t know how to get near the archives, much less inside. In fact, the only miner that Orion knew had ever managed to break in was - 

Was… 

Orion’s helm shot up and he stared at Jazz with wide, unblinking optics. 

“Jazz,” Orion blurted out, reaching over and grasping Jazz’s elbow joint with an urgency that had his digits digging just a little too sharply into the soft protoform there. He leaned in close, their forehelms almost touching, and he said, “you - you’ve been there!”

“The frag?” Jazz’s visor scrunched as his optic ridges lowered. He frowned lightly and jostled his arm a little, but it only served to make Orion grip on tighter, and Jazz’s dermas pursed as he scowled and said, “dude, let up, you’re going to bruise me and I don’t need my team leader yelling at me again - “ 

“You’ve been to the archives.” Orion cut him off, smiling sheepishly in apology when Jazz huffed at the interruption and swatted harshly at his shoulder plate. Orion ignored the stinging pain of the hit and instead said, excitedly, “you know how to get in!”

“Yeah,” Jazz said slowly, clearly thinking that Orion had lost his mind as he leaned back slightly so there was more air in between them. By this point, he had given up on trying to get Orion to loosen his grip, and simply let his arm dangle uselessly over Orion’s lap as he said, “is there a reason why you’re looking at me like I’m highly refined energon?” 

“Oh, right, good point. You should have some,” Orion said in an absentminded voice as he flipped open his compartment, tossed a glowing cube at Jazz, and ignored the mech’s yelp as he fumbled to catch it and immediately yelled how the frag had Orion gotten such an expensive portion. 

The part of him that had been worried about Jazz asking too many questions about the energon (and therefore eventually about Sentinel) was impatiently waved off as Jazz immediately began to sip, a look of bliss sweeping across his face as he cooed something about how good it tasted and how it was loads better than their usual rations. 

Orion’s processor was whirling rapidly as he thought quickly. He couldn’t believe how he forgot that Jazz was the only one out of the miners to not only have the balls to break into the archives, but do it so constantly that he was always sneakily trying to read a glowing datapad during the lune cycle and successfully pissing off all the mechs around him. 

And, judging by how Jazz was literally licking the seams of the cube and bemoaning about how he drank it too fast, it seemed like he owed Orion a favor. 

“Jazz,” Orion said again, his voice saccharine and coated in honey. 

It immediately put Jazz on edge, who paused his glossa from swiping over the same face of the cube for the third time as he slowly lowered his servo, scrunched his visor, and said, “... uh huh?” 

“You liked that energon, right?” Orion purred. 

“Sure,” Jazz said cautiously. “It was good. Real good. Why're you acting so - “ 

“I can give you more,” Orion said, beaming as he leaned in and nearly smashed their nasal ridges together in his excitement. Oops. He fluttered his servo in some generous gesture, and he said, “tons more! Trust me, I have more than I need for myself. Listen. I'll give you two - three! Three cubes if you tell me how to get into the archives.” 

Jazz didn’t respond. He clutched the empty cube to his chassis, and for a moment, Orion thought he would say no, and he felt his spark drop to his aft. But then Jazz glanced down again at the glass, made a soft, whining buzz at the back of his throat, and the hope was obvious in his voice as he hesitantly mumbled, “really?” 

“Really.” Orion nodded firmly. 

Another beat of silence. 

“Four cubes,” Jazz said.

“Three.” 

“Five.” 

“That's not how this works.” Orion laughed. 

“Five cubes,” Jazz said insistently, now seeming rather enthused himself as he leaned forward and gently knocked their helms together. There was a grin on his face, and it was in that moment that Orion remembered just how much of a slageating smile he had, all mischievous and laughing and smug. “And I not only tell you how to get into the archives, but I also keep my intake shut.” 

Orion arched an optic ridge, but his dermas were twitching with his own smirk as he scoffed and said, “as if you wouldn't keep your intake shut anyway. Your aft's on the line if it’s let out that you break into the archives, you know.” 

Jazz wiggled his digits. “Five.” 

Orion huffed out a small laugh. 

He reached forward and firmly shook Jazz's servo once. “Yeah. Five.” 

Jazz laughed, and Orion threw a pillow at his face. 

Act I, Scene XIV: Archive of Our Own

“The archives were rebuilt a couple dozen vorns ago, but they kind of just put the new one on top of the old one, so there’s a few passages left behind that the wreckers used when they were still constructing. You can squirm into one of those to get inside,” Jazz had said to Orion as soon as he had handed over the promised cubes and the both of them had wandered up to the rooftop of the stack building to avoid any nosy Nosedives. 

“Isn't that a safety concern?” Orion had wondered. “I'm surprised that you even found that out. Wouldn’t there be locks to make sure something like that can't be used by someone they don't want to let in?” 

Jazz had snorted and sipped at a cube. “I don't know about safety concerns, especially since you're about to do exactly that and break in like the little criminal you are. And yeah, there are usually locks, but…” 

He had trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable, and Orion hadn’t wanted to prod, but eventually Jazz sighed, slumped slightly, and grumbled, “I, uh. I kind of have a friend who helps me out. Either way, the area should be unlocked. I'll contact my friend and tell him you want to get in, so it should be fine. Just don't run into him if you can help it, he's a total afthole.” 

Orion's dermas had twitched in his amusement. “Sure. And who exactly is your friend that's willing to let you break into our city's sacred archives, huh?”

Jazz had given him a dry look and said, “why do you wanna break into said sacred archives?” 

Orion had sheepishly relented and accepted the coordinates that Jazz forwarded to him without any more questions. The message had been clear: you keep your secrets, I keep mine. 

With Jazz's instructions and coordinates now safely downloaded into his processor, Orion simply waited (a little impatiently, if he was being honest) as Helios lowered completely and Selene appeared. The lune cycle of Iacon was always quieter, darker, and only lit up by the colorful lights of skyscrapers.

It meant cover for his otherwise suspicious movements, so after pressing a small kiss to Bee's helm and watching him fondly as he mumbled in his recharge, Orion had slipped away and out of the stack building, aiming for nonchalance as he passed various miners who only gave him curious glances when he left. 

Getting to the richer part of Iacon wasn't that hard, though the bullet train only went so far. Bots higher than level 10 were born with cogs, so they had no need for the train, which meant that as soon as Orion hopped off at the last stop, he was not only walking the rest of the way, but he had to be cautious about it. 

Sticking to the alleys seemed like his best bet, since there weren't any lights there and he could press himself against walls and simply stay still as nobles or guards walked past him. He could have done without the grime that started to cover his frame or the debris that tried to get stuck under his pedes, but he had experienced way worse in the slums, so he only silently sighed and sucked it up. 

Luckily, getting to the building itself was easy enough. The Golden Archives was a structure almost as big as the High Covenant Chamber, what with its golden topped dome as well as its pristine walls and columns made of white marble. 

Orion, who was carefully flattened against the wall of a spa resort across the street, was filled with awe at the sight of the archives. It wasn’t like he had ever seen it in frame before, and it was just as magnificent as Sentinel described on the rare occasion he indulged Orion and Bee and liked to tell them a bit more about his world and personal life. 

Sentinel would kill me if he saw me doing this, Orion thought with a small, weary chuckle as he glanced around him, made sure it was all clear, and silently slipped out of the shadows and briskly jogged to the hall. 

Then again, so would Bee, probably. Orion had made the conscious decision to leave them behind not out of any malice or ill will, but simply because he knew they wouldn’t understand. He knew his friends more than he knew himself, and it hadn’t escaped him that they were starting to get worried about him. 

In quieter moments, when he had more thoughts gathered to himself, maybe Orion could admit that he was also worried about him. This, breaking into the archives, deliberately carrying out Megatron’s orders - it was nothing like he’d ever done before. Sure, he got into trouble more times than he liked to admit, and maybe he had the lowest joors since last accident tallies out of any of the other miners, but this was more than some petty prank or playful rule-breaking. 

This was real. Unnervingly so. 

Focus, Orion scolded himself, forcing away any thoughts of lingering guilt or regret as he shuffled past the broken fence that blocked off one of the alleys beside the archives that Jazz had told him about. 

“There’s no direct way inside except for the front doors. You’ll have to kind of get on the ground - yes, servos and patellas, don’t give me that look, you wanted to do this - and feel for something that has a little give,” Jazz had said to him on the rooftop. “Once you find it, just dig your digits around until you find a hook. Pull it up and go down the stairs. It’s not exactly easy to find, so be patient about it.”  

Orion grumbled lightly to himself as he hesitantly got down to the dirty floor and sank to his patellas. He had to hold back a shriek when he felt something scuttle past him, and his optics adjusted rapidly as he tried to glimpse at what had just touched him, only to bite back another scream as he recognized the shape of a mech mouse. 

The lighting here was non-existent and Orion shuddered as he realized that not only was he about to spend the next Primus knew how long kliks trying to find the stupid hatch door that Jazz mentioned, but also, his only company would be - his spark skipped in fear - mice.  

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,” Orion muttered to himself as he dropped his servos to the ground as well and grimaced when dirt immediately got into the seams of his digits and dug under his plating uncomfortably. It was somehow considerably worse doing this compared to how filthy he got during his shifts, and he got disgusting a lot of the time then. 

It was made worse by the scuttling noises his audials picked up, extra sensitive as he tried to stretch his hearing as far as he could and nearly offlined when he felt something brush against his pede, again.  

“Fragging finally,” Orion whispered as at last, his pointer digit poked something that was a different texture than the rest of the hard, dirty concrete. It wasn’t soft exactly, but when he pushed, it flexed just the slightest bit underneath his paint. He dragged his digit down, carefully tracing the shape, and he made a small noise of triumph when he felt something that was shaped like a flat handle. 

He grunted as he sat up and crouched, letting his legs do the hard work as he shoved his servo underneath the hook and tugged as best as he could. For a moment, he was scared that it wouldn’t work, that Jazz’s friend had bailed and Orion would get caught buck-aft naked and vulnerable for the guards to find him, but to his utter relief, it gave away to his strength, and opened without a sound. 

He must have oiled the hinges, Orion thought with some amusement as he carefully lowered himself into the darkness and closed the door above him. 

The stairs themselves were crudely built, and Orion recalled how Jazz had said they were just makeshift scaffolding for the wrecker bots as they built the new archives on top. 

“Why did they rebuild you?” Orion said out loud, slowing down slightly to let his servo drag alongside the wall beside him. 

The area was damp and dark, and only barely lit by weak little bulbs stuffed into the mortar lines of the wall. When he tilted his helm and observed more closely, he made a noise of curiosity as he realized that his digits were touching what looked like crack marks. He rubbed his thumb over one particularly large web-like spindle of damage, and he frowned when some of the material crumbled off. 

He rubbed it between his pointer digit and thumb, slowly feeling the granules under his sensitive painting and holding it closer to his optic. Though the lights of the bulbs were weak and orange, he could still figure out that the material was a soft, silver color. When he looked at it some more, taking into account the size of the granules - not granules, he realized, but crystals - and the durability, as well as the luster… 

Oh, his processor said lamely. It’s granite. 

But why? Granite was strong, but it wasn’t as structurally sound as steel or reinforced concrete. Even the stacks weren’t built out of granite, and Orion had spent enough time underground to understand that the stuff was pretty and optic-catching, but relatively easy to drill through if necessary. 

Jazz had said that the original archives were built over some dozen vorns ago. That didn’t make even a lick of sense. Orion spent less time reading Sentinel’s (stolen) datapads than Bee did, but he had still used quite a bit of his sols looking through various geology and architectural tomes to better understand the best way to do his work (and not to find the easy way out, no matter what Sentinel liked to say). 

According to the texts, steel and concrete became the required norm by law around two hundred vorns ago. So were the original archives even older than that? What the frag? 

He glanced around himself. There was no one but him, but he felt a chill, and he shivered slightly before he tucked away the little bits of granite into his subspace. He didn’t really have the time to think too hard about it, so he carefully put away that train of thought deeper into his processor and then jobbed the rest of the way down. 

The deeper he went, the more evident it became to him that this was definitely Jazz’s space. There were little marks of him left behind - pedesteps that matched the underside of his pedes in both pattern and size, as well as various little trinkets that Orion recognized as his. He huffed a little in amusement when he came upon a small scratching on the wall that read JAZZ ROCKS. 

“Slagger,” Orion said to himself in a fond voice as he jumped off the last step and came upon another staircase. This time, it went up, and he was silent as he climbed, allowing himself to think as he did. 

“There’s another door at the top of the second staircase,” Jazz had said, his words slightly muffled as he rattled around an entire cube in his intake to try and suck as much energon out of it as he could. “It leads into an old storage closet. No one ever goes there except for my friend, and he should have unlocked the vent grate for you to go through. Yes, Orion, a vent, don’t look at me like that. Just crawl through it, follow the path, and it’ll spit you out into the middle of the mythology section, which is always empty because no one cares about that slag.” 

He had swallowed heavily, wiped his intake with the back of his servo, and had regarded Orion carefully. Though his optics were always covered by his visor, his facial plates gave the distinction that he had looked at Orion with some type of reluctant sorrow. 

“Be careful,” Jazz had muttered. “Keep your helm low. Don’t let anyone see you, especially not my friend - he’s already pissed I’m asking such a huge favor from him. Go in, get out, and let’s never speak of this again. 

“Good luck.”  

Orion sighed as he opened the door at the top, closed it carefully behind him, and looked around. True to Jazz’s word, he had ended up in some kind of storage closet, though everything was covered in dust and definitely looked more than a little outdated. There was a second door right across the tiny room, and out of curiosity, Orion jiggled the handle, but predictably, it didn’t budge. 

“Alright,” Orion said, looking up and eyeing the already open vent grate above him. He shook his helm, cursed under his breath, and said, “I can’t believe I have to do this kind of slag again. Okay… Here we go…” 

Hauling himself up into the vent wasn’t any harder than it had been when doing the same in Megatron’s cell, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed crawling through a tight, dark space and getting dust and dirt and whatever else was in there all into his seams. He seriously needed a shower after all of this, and he grimaced when his patella touched something that was either a dead mech mouse (holy frag) or a giant dust bunny. 

Thankfully, he saw the faint rays of light that indicated the end of his journey, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly shimmied over and slid a few digits through the slides to first take a peek below him. 

The shelves were way larger and taller than he had anticipated, and he said a soft, “whoa,” in pure awe at the pristine, shining metal of the rows of datapads. It was honestly kind of incredible, and for a moment, he lied there, drinking it all in and once again wondering to himself if this was really the kind of life and privilege that Sentinel enjoyed everyday. 

He shook his helm lightly, dispelled his growing thoughts, and carefully observed the area. Like Jazz said, there was no one around, and when he turned up his audial sensitivity, he also couldn’t hear anything nearby. It seemed like the entire section was abandoned, and so he quickly swung up the grate, slid downwards, hung himself from the square rim by the tips of his digits, and then jumped off. 

It wasn’t too much of a fall, and after vorns of getting into trouble (and escaping Darkwing’s wrath), Orion knew very well how to roll into a ball and muffle most of his impact so that he only made a light thud. He came to a stop when his dorsal plates mashed into the lowest shelf, and he blinked as some of the datapads around him rustled, and then settled with the vibrations. 

He stood up, dusted himself off, and looked around a little helplessly. 

Uh. 

So… now what was he supposed to do?

The answer came in the form of him figuring out that the entire place was arranged by genre, then alphabetical order, and then content order. It was a bit convoluted, honestly, and it took quite a bit of cursing and muttering from him before he finally found the history section. 

This area was a bit more populated than the others, and Orion had to play his cards right so he wouldn't get caught. Luckily, these bots seemed more interested in burying their noses into datapads than looking up whenever someone happened to move past them, so Orion took advantage and slipped past a pair of femmes as well as a lone mech to stand in front of the section he needed. 

“Revitalization Ceremony, Ceremony, Ceremony…” Orion mumbled to himself, repeating the words as his servo drew up and carefully ran along the various spines of the datapads. 

Restoring Chrome Candles… Receiving Countless Colored Cups… Revitalizing Ceres. 

He blinked. 

“Huh?” He muttered. 

Revitalizing Ceres. Revitalizing Control In Your Unruly Sparkling: A Guide. 

“What the frag,” he whispered, both servos now reaching up and frantically sorting through the datapads, his optics trying to fruitlessly search for a spine right in between the last two titles he skimmed. It should have been there, it should have been right there, there was simply no other place it could be, and yet - 

“It's gone,” he croaked. 

It was gone. There was no trace of it. 

He crouched low to the ground and rubbed at his forehelm, trying to dispel the ache forming behind his optics as he tried not to yell in frustration. This didn't make any sense. How the frag could the datapad not be here? The Revitalization Ceremony was a crucial part of their culture, and going by how the history section was one of the largest wings of the archives, clearly every part of Iacon was considered important!

Oh! Wait, wait! Maybe something with Iacon 5000, instead? Or even anything to do with the word ceremony! Oh, dammit, duh! 

Trailblazer! 

Orion eagerly stood up again and began his search. 

Two joors, three dozen datapads, and very tired optics later, Orion slumped his dorsal plate against the nearest shelf behind him and groaned weakly as he let the last text slip from his servo and clatter innocently to the floor with a soft sound. 

Nothing. 

Not a single fragging thing on the Revitalization Ceremony, the trailblazers, not even the Iacon 5000! Large informative texts were maybe a bit too much to hope for, but what about records? Weren’t the archivists in charge of that sort of thing, to make sure every piece of Iacon history was written down and tucked somewhere so that everything was kept transparent and real? 

He blinked slowly, his optics focusing on the spines in front of him as he frowned deeply. So was all of this effort for nothing, then? Had Megatron sent him on an actual fruitless chase just to see him act like an idiot? Was he sitting in his cell, laughing his helm off, thinking about poor Orion, who had spent the last few joors frantically reading datapad after datapad? 

Maybe Sentinel was right, Orion thought to himself tiredly as he ran a servo down his face and then back up to pinch at the bridge of his nasal ridge. He was so exhausted that he could fall into recharge right then and there. Megatron's an obvious liar. I wouldn't put it past him to manipulate me. This is stupid, I should go home and just… 

He paused. His digits twitched lightly against one of the datapads that were stacked around him in his franticness to figure out the answer to what Megatron had dropped a hint of, and Orion stared blankly at the shelf across from him. 

No, he thought slowly. That didn't make sense. Though he didn't think that Megatron was above petty lies or cruel tactics to sway him, why would Megatron insist on Orion coming back afterwards if he knew that the archives wouldn't actually have anything? He already knew that Orion was going back regardless to feed him, so a steady supply of energon couldn't be it. 

He was trying to prove something, Orion’s processor murmured. There's no such thing as the Ceremony, according to the archives. Did someone check out all the datapads that have to do with it? Or did the archivists forget to restock these?

He chewed on his lower derma. Frag. He wished he could talk to Hot Rod; he had been an archivist before he won the recent race, so surely he would have had some answers. But Orion didn't have his comm link, and he wouldn't be able to even get near him enough to ask for it. 

But… maybe someone else could. 

Private Comm Link (ID: #628317): Sentinel Prime? No, Sentinel Prick

Outgoing message… 

DES: Orion Pax - ID: OP-001628

:: Sentinel! :: 

Orion waited five kliks. He tapped his pede anxiously when there was no indication that Sentinel was typing, much less had seen his message. What the frag was he doing? Sentinel never left texts alone for too long, especially not when Orion was calling for him so urgently. 

Slag. Was the thing that happened between Sentinel and Bee worse than Orion initially thought? He should have pushed more for answers, then maybe he could have pushed past whatever tiff the two of them were going through and so Sentinel would stop freaking ignoring him. 

DES: Orion Pax - ID: OP-001628

:: Look, Sen, I really need your help. I'm assuming you're still at the party, so could you get me Hot Rod's private comm line if you can? ::

:: I know it's a lot to ask but I seriously need to talk to him. :: 

:: … Sentinel? :: 

:: Sen, come on. Whatever happened between you and Bee, we can fix it. Don't be too upset. I seriously need you right now, buddy. :: 

:: Sen. :: 

:: Sentinel!!! ::

Orion let out a garbled noise of static as he received no reply within the half-joor he waited impatiently. He wasn't usually rude enough to spam Sentinel, who he knew was the busiest out of all three of them, but this was important. 

What the hell was Sentinel doing that had him so distracted? He had never ignored Orion like this before. Especially not when he was asking him for a favor that he had stressed was imperative to him. 

He sighed and begrudgingly pulled another datapad towards him. Well, the good thing was that it was still early in the lune cycle, so he still had enough time to peruse some of these other texts and try to find some clue he might have missed. He doubted it, but it at least gave him something to do while he waited for Sentinel to - 

“Councilman Sunstreaker, it is such an honor to have you here, you won't even believe how excited we all are!” 

Slag. Slag, slag, frag, bolt-eating bucket of - !  

Orion scrambled to hide himself as he quickly scooted back and pressed his dorsal plate flush against the flat end of the shelf he had been leaning on. His spark pounded dangerously fast in his chassis, and he swore lowly under his breath as he carefully peeked out and watched a femme archivist lead a mech painted black who was rapidly tapping away on a datapad, and behind him - 

Orion's vents hitched. 

Councilman Sunstreaker was worthy of his name; he was larger than both bots in front of him, and seemed to have no shame in letting his heavy steps echo throughout the otherwise silent hall. He was painted a near blinding shade of yellow, and he seemed more interested in picking at his audial and flicking away pieces of dust than paying attention to whatever the archivist was saying. 

Orion had never seen him before, mostly because he tended to only watch the live projections that featured Ultra or Sentinel. His processor dug through his files and brought up everything Sentinel had ever mentioned about Sunstreaker, which wasn't a whole lot. 

All Orion knew was that the councilman was apparently the head of the Elite Guard, which was much larger than Ultra’s personal high squadron. Judging by the bulging cable muscles as well as the sheer size of Sunstreaker's shoulder plates, Orion could warily conclude that the title wasn't unwarranted. 

Of all the nights for him to be here - ! 

Getting caught by a noble? Bad. By a guard? Worse. By a councilman? 

If Orion wasn't careful, he was as good as dead. Coolant began to drip down his nose and he again swore quietly when he felt his cooling fans kick on with a soft click. Hastily, he overrode his temperature gauge and sat there completely still, his frame heating up from his nerves. 

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Sunstreaker said, his tone bored and slimy with arrogance as he waved off the next of the archivist's spewing. She had been talking about their newest wing of datapads or something or other, and Orion cringed in sympathy when she deflated and shut her intake. “Longarm, what exactly did I need to come find?” 

The black mech that had been texting furiously on his datapad looked up and blinked. He didn't seem at all affected by the councilman's rudeness, and instead politely said, “the text on the best brewing methods for high grade energon, my lord. Remember how you said you wanted to drink the ale that the Primes used to?” 

“Oh, yes,” Sunstreaker said, now looking thoughtful as he nodded his helm eagerly. “That sounds awesome. Imagine getting drunk off that and fragging the night off to do whatever you want!” 

He laughed, a bellowing sound, and Orion was honestly just shocked that a senator was so crude. Ultra always had the appearance and attitude of regality and power, and though Orion had always heard Sentinel whine than not, he always caught a glimpse of that noble and aristocratic nature of his time to time. 

Sunstreaker was none of those things. Powerful, yes, and certainly imposing enough. But he was… rude. 

Luckily, it seemed that attitude didn’t extend to Longarm, who Orion assumed was Sunstreaker’s assistant, or at least something close to it. The smaller mech simply nodded along, his facial plates impassive, and it was clear that he was simply doing whatever he needed to do to appease the boisterous councilman. 

“I just don’t see why we had to come tonight,” Sunstreaker complained loudly, causing a couple of heads with peeved expressions to poke out between shelves, only to shrink back as they realized who it was and quickly schooled their appearances to appear demure. “Ultra’s party is off the hook, Longarm! Look, look - see? Blurr just commed me that Chromedome’s vomiting up all his energon! Argh, I should have been there!” 

“I understand, my lord,” Longarm said soothingly. He sent an apologetic, handsome smile to the architect who had been guiding them, who immediately blushed a pale blue and ducked her helm in bashfulness. “But the brewing section is usually closed off during the lune cycle, and you know I can’t have access without your key code.” 

Sunstreaker grumbled something under his breath, too low for Orion’s audials to pick up on, but whatever he said seemed to have amused Longarm, who chuckled quietly. 

“If you want to go so badly, just hand me the key code for now and I’ll meet you back at the mansion,” Longarm said, raising his servo in a give it here gesture. 

“My key code?” Sunstreaker hesitated. He didn’t fidget or anything like that, something Orion legitimately could not even imagine a mech of his standing would do, but the way his optics darted from Longarm’s wiggling digits to his face was similar enough. “You know that’s confidential, Longarm. Ultra will have my aft if I - “ 

“That’s fine,” Longarm said gently, resting his servo gently on Sunstreaker’s much larger one. The councilman swallowed and glanced down again, this time looking entranced as Longarm murmured, “I understand. You can just stay with me and we can look through the shelves together, it’ll be fun. I mean, you’ll have to send your regards to Lord Ultra, because there’s no chance we’ll be done before morning - “ 

“What?” Sunstreaker blurted out. His face was suddenly set in a scowl as he jerked his helm down to stare at the archivist, who nearly jumped out of her plating as he did. “Is this true?” 

“Y-Yes,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat and bowed, but even from here, Orion could see the way her servos shook as she folded them politely in front of them. “The brewery wing is large and old, my lord, and a good number of the datapads are unfortunately uncharged due to lack of interest from our patrons - “ 

“So we’ll have to wait for some of them to turn on while we look through them,” Longarm muttered thoughtfully. He was stroking Sunstreaker’s digits by this point, and Orion was mortified by how intimate the gesture was. He had originally thought that Longarm was Sunstreaker’s assistant; was he his lover instead? Were councilmen even allowed to have… romantic entanglements? “Well, then, show us the way, archivist. We’ll just - “ 

“Here.” Sunstreaker’s dentae were gritted as he shoved something towards Longarm. Despite the harsh way he did it, Longarm took what looked like a small, thin card with grace, and simply stared up at the councilman as he grumbled. “Spending all my lune here, are you crazy? Do I look like a nerd who wants to waste my time here when Ultra’s busting out the good stuff from his cellar?” 

“Thank you, Sunstreaker,” Longarm said, just as softly as before. 

Sunstreaker blushed. It was a bewildering look on a mech who Orion had clocked as annoyingly arrogant, and he stared, tilting his helm slightly as Longarm smiled at Sunstreaker in a decidedly both pleased and coy manner. 

Well, whatever. This was his chance. With all three of them so distracted, Orion could start sneaking back towards the vent he had used. He raised a pede, intent on shuffling just the tiniest bit to stick closer to the wall, only to freeze when he nudged a datapad. 

It was one of the thinner ones, so it slid easily at least a couple of inches, before it innocently stopped. It didn't move much, but half of its edge was in the light, and Orion froze, his spark in his throat as there was a small noise of surprise, and Sunstreaker said with a suspicious tone, “what was that? I saw something move.” 

Holy frag, I'm so fucking dead, Orion thought hysterically to himself. 

He risked another peek, using the angle to his advantage so they wouldn't see the shape or color of his helm, and he felt like he was being pierced in the optics as he realized that it wasn't Sunstreaker who was looking directly at him, but Longarm. 

The black mech had a scowl on his face and glared so fiercely that Orion winced on principle. There was no way he hadn't been spotted, and he almost sighed as he realized that he would have to message both Sentinel and Bee that he would be out of commission for the next few sols. 

Dammit. Ricks was not going to be happy. He already had a pole up his aft if Orion was late by a micro-klik, imagine the look on his face if he knew that Orion wouldn't be showing up at all for the foreseeable future? 

That might make all of this worth it, Orion thought to himself, almost snickering as his processor helpfully generated an image of Ricks looking gobsmacked. 

“I don't think I saw anything,” Longarm said sweetly, and Orion whipped his helm to gape at him as the smaller mech smiled up at Sunstreaker again, palming his wrist. The councilman, who had been squinting in an accusing manner at the stupid datapad that had given Orion away, flushed once again as he stared in awe at Longarm. “Why don't you start heading back, my lord? I'll catch up.”

????? Orion's processor nearly short circuited as it tried to make sense of what was happening. 

Hadn't Longarm seen him? There was no way he didn't, they literally made optic contact, and Orion had already gleaned that the mech was far sharper than his boss/lover was. So what was it then? 

“And I'll find you…?” Sunstreaker trailed off, his voice overly eager and obviously expecting a specific answer as he leaned down slightly. 

Longarm smiled. It was a slight thing, nothing more than a little quirk of his dermas, but his optics lidded half-closed, he leaned up on the tips of his pedes, and he whispered into Sunstreaker's audial, just loud enough that Orion could pick up on the edges of his words: “In your berth, with my legs apart.” 

Orion blushed and clapped a servo to his intake in horror mixed with embarrassment. 

The archivist, who had been hovering nearby, went so blue with energon rushing to her face that she looked like she was going to faint. 

Sunstreaker grinned, wide and way too lustful for a public setting as he eyed Longarm with such a seedy look that Orion felt slightly violated. 

With a nod of satisfaction, Sunstreaker turned on his pede and began to march back where he went, in a disturbingly good mood as he bellowed out greetings to the startled mechs he passed by. 

“Thank you for indulging him,” Longarm said to the archivist. He was acting like nothing had happened. He didn't even look flustered! He simply palmed the key code that Sunstreaker had given him and tucked it away into his subspace, smiling crookedly in a way that was a touch too charming as he said, “I know how to get to the brewery section from here. Your guidance so far has been appreciated.” 

The archivist blushed again. It was honestly a bit fascinating to see her so blue; surely she would fall over soon from how practically all her energon was in her helm, now. If Orion wasn’t so busy trying not to get arrested, he would have asked her if she was alright. 

“Oh, no worries, Mr. Longarm!” She said, frantically waving her servos about and giggling a little helplessly when his smile widened just that much more. “I'm so happy to help. I have to return to my desk now, but if you need anything else, here's my comm link ID.” 

I guess all that energon in her helm gave her some courage, Orion thought in amusement as he watched the way she leaned down and scribbled something hastily on Longarm's palm, blinking coyly up at him as she did so.  

He didn't seem offended by the offer, and simply said, “thank you, miss,” and dipped his head lightly as she tittered and then scampered off. 

Orion let out a vent as he and Longarm stood there in silence, with nothing but the shadows and light to separate them. He did contemplate leaving, perhaps try to slip away and hope that Longarm wouldn't follow, but he had a feeling that would work as well as that one time he tried to convince Sentinel that drinking cycles-old energon was fine (read: it wasn't). 

“Are you going to continue standing there, or are you going to come and arrest me?” Orion finally sighed, leaning against the dark, flat portion of the shelf as his helm tilted back and laid on it gently. He was busy trying to figure out how to beg (or bribe, sometimes it worked) the enforcer that would have to oversee his cell as he was detained for however many sols they deemed he needed. 

“Don't speak so loudly. Or are you not nearly as intelligent as Jazz says you supposedly are?” 

Orion jolted, and the noise that left his throat was mostly static as he realized that in the micro-klik he had spent staring up at the ceiling, Longarm had not only strode right past the shelves, but was standing so close to him that Orion had to jerk his chin up to even look him in the optics. 

It was then that what Longarm said hit his helm like a damn brick, and he knew he was gaping rather unattractively going by the unimpressed look on Longarm's face as Orion sputtered, gestured at him incredulously, and then finally gasped out, “you're the friend Jazz was talking about?”

Longarm didn't answer. His previous light charm and wit seemed to have melted away completely the moment he stepped into the shadows, and his bright optics were dimmed so that they were barely visible. His expression was tight with irritation, and his arms were drawn across his chassis in his displeasure, but finally, after standing there for at least two kliks, he dipped his chin plate slightly in a yes. 

“What the frag,” Orion deadpanned. When Jazz had said that he had a friend who helped him out, Orion had expected an archivist or some noble that had formed a relationship with him, similarly how Orion did with Sentinel. 

But Longarm wasn't either of those things. He was not only Sunstreaker's assistant, but he was also his lover, or at least something of the sort. He was as close to the council as anyone who wasn't an actual senate member could get, and it made Orion blink several times as he realized that somehow, some way, Jazz had befriended this - this - 

“You should have listened to Jazz.” Longarm's frown deepened into a scowl. Geeze, talk about a total 180. Gone was the soft-spoken, agreeable mech who had coaxed Sunstreaker into leaving and also appeasing the archivist to go away. He had been so faintly seductive that even Orion had felt a little flustered, but the bot stood in front of him now was cold. Annoyed. Maybe even a little angry. “You weren't supposed to draw attention to yourself.” 

Orion looked at him in disbelief. “I didn't, at least until you came along! If you knew I was going to be here, why the hell did you lead Sunstreaker right towards me?”

Longarm pursed his dermas and looked to the side. When he spoke, it sounded like his dentae were gritted, and he ground out, “that fool? Please. As if he would ever leave me alone enough for me to venture out on my own. It just so happens that we both lucked out and Ultra is throwing a party. If he wasn't, we would both be in trouble.” 

Orion stared at him. 

Okay, now he was really confused. 

“Uh.” He started tentatively. He didn't want to upset Longarm; if he really was Jazz's friend, then that meant by extension, he was Orion's ally. But curiosity beat out his struggle for propriety, and he cleared his throat, rocked slightly on his heels, and awkwardly said, “sorry, I don't… understand. I thought you and Sunstreaker were - ?” 

Longarm shot him a vicious glare, and Orion quickly shut his intake.

“You need to get out,” Longarm growled, now sounding impatient as he glanced past Orion's helm, clicking his glossa in irritation as he saw something. “The archivists continuously sweep the floors every five joors to clean up any messes. Did you find what you were looking for, or is your helm too thick for that?” 

Orion's optic twitched at the insult, but he brushed it off and said, “no. I've been trying to find out about the Revitalization Ceremony and also the records of all past winners and trailblazers, but I couldn't find anything. It's like they all disappeared or something.” 

He let out a frustrated vent. He just couldn't figure it out. How could there be nothing about the Ceremony? That was impossible. Ever since the Primes disappeared and Ultra took the lead of their congress, he had implemented a system to soothe the restlessness of Iacon citizens. Part of that system had been to record everything that ever happened in their city, so that bots could come and read about their history whenever they wanted. 

It was about transparency, integrity, and generosity. So why…? 

Orion realized that Longarm hadn't said anything in the kliks that passed, and he glanced up at him, wondering if something was wrong, only to nearly flinch when he saw that Longarm was not only staring at him, but he was staring at him so intensely that it was a wonder Orion's helm didn’t have a hole burnt through it. 

He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he was understanding more and more that the Longarm that he had seen with Sunstreaker and that archivist had been a facade. A mask that he put on for some reason, and had dropped around Orion because he wasn't worth it. 

“The Ceremony,” Longarm rasped. He glanced down to Orion's chassis, where his cog well was empty. Orion didn't even have time to feel offended by the blatant staring before Longarm reached out and gently pressed his digit tips against the edge of the empty socket. “Why do you care? You can't compete.” 

“Hey!” Orion snapped, the first dredges of real anger sparking at the edge of his processor as he harshly slapped away the servo. Surprisingly, Longarm let him, and the larger mech simply leaned back and continued to stare as Orion snarled and said, “listen, I know that to you I'm just a miner, but that doesn't mean you can just go around touching me like that! What gives you the damn right, huh? Just because you're a higher caste - !” 

Longarm laughed. 

Orion froze. 

It wasn't a mocking laugh, and it wasn't one full of anger or irritation. It was short and more breathy than voice, but it was real, and when Longarm smiled, it wasn't like the slight one he gave Sunstreaker, who easily fell for his seductions. It wasn't even like the one he showed to the archivist, full of polite charm and wit. 

It was rough, more of a smirk than an actual smile, but his voice had softened around its rough edges as he said, “you're right.” 

Orion was taken back, and he was sure his confusion of what was going on was clear as he said, “er, I am?” 

Longarm nodded. He straightened and said, “at least about that, yes. But the  records of the Revitalization Ceremony… they won't be found here. You're on an endless hunt for it if that's really what you're searching for.” 

“But - “ Orion said helplessly. “I need it.” 

Longarm's dermas twitched. “Earlier, you said it's like they disappeared.” 

Orion nodded, his skepticism making his face scrunch into a frown as Longarm hummed in contemplation. 

“Perhaps you aren't entirely off the mark with that observation,” Longarm said, and he gave Orion a pointed, knowing look. 

Do you understand? Longarm's optics stared. 

Oh, Orion stared back. I do. 

Oh. 

Orion understood. Megatron hadn't lied to him or manipulated him or done anything like Sentinel and Orion had expected him to; he hadn't sent Orion on some stupid, helmless and scatterbrained quest. This was what Megatron wanted him to see. There weren't any records of the Ceremony, not because someone had checked them out or they were replaced. 

Someone had taken them. Deliberately. 

They were hiding something about the Ceremony, Orion thought rapidly. There had always been something strange about the whole thing, and Megatron's knee-jerk reaction to Hot Rod winning hadn't been a coincidence, either. Whatever Megatron knew, the bot who stole all these datapads didn't want it getting out. 

That meant the secret was dangerous. This was bigger than what Orion had originally thought it was; this was more than him and Megatron playing a game and seeing who would bend the knee and call for mercy first. 

“Longarm - “ Orion started, his voice hard and insistent, but the larger mech breathed out a soft curse as he grasped Orion's arm and started to weave through the shelves, ignoring the way the miner stumbled behind him and hissed at him to slow down. 

“You're out of time,” Longarm said, not looking over his shoulder as he breezed past a few femmes, both of whom were luckily too engrossed in their respective data pads to glance up. “The archivists will be here soon to check the area, and I'm limited on time, myself. We part here.” 

Orion nearly slammed into the back of Longarm’s legs as the mech suddenly let go of him and the speed they'd been walking carried too much momentum. He felt slightly dizzy as he peeled off his servos from Longarm's legs where they'd clutched at the metal in an effort to catch him, and he made a noise of recognition as he recognized the vent grates up above them. 

“Wait,” Orion said desperately, trying to jump down when Longarm unceremoniously scooped him up by the waist and lifted him. Instinctively, Orion clung to the rim of the opening and then lifted himself the rest of the way, but he quickly turned to try to plead at Longarm, who was already reaching up and locking the grates with something Orion couldn't see. “Longarm - “ 

“The answers you seek are not easy to understand,” Longarm warned as he finished locking the grate and then carefully observed the area. Luckily, no one was near, and he gave Orion one last, examining look. “You have to figure it out yourself. Goodbye.” 

“Oh, you slagger,” Orion muttered darkly as Longarm turned around and disappeared beyond the corner of a shelf, moving so swiftly that it was like he'd never been there in the first place. 

Still, Orion thought, shimmying forward in the vent tunnel and his processor clicking as he filed away everything he had learned that night into his hard drive. 

He had definitely found some invaluable intel. 

When was the next time he could see Megatron? 

[keyaho]

.summary. it was the start of the new school year. terry & blaire begin the steps of reconnecting as aaron and Brennan focus on branching out. a new family arrives to MPA.

.chapter warnings. themes of sex, slightly vulgar language :: Blaire pov | Brennan pov

co-writer: @zillasvilla

Noah was in bed by eight-thirty. Again, he requested his Dad’s attention and she sat on her bed slightly miffed about it. Prior to her shower, Terry had brought Noah in to say goodnight. She ran her hands over her son’s new cut again. Just a bit longer than his father’s cut but with those infamous little lines cut in. She had thought Noah wanted to sleep in her bed again, but one look from his Dad and he was telling her that he was a big boy and needed to sleep in his bed. Blaire shot a look at Terry then smiled at her son. After a kiss on the forehead, cheek, and a tight hug Noah was bouncing back towards his room. 

Now she was waiting for Terry, again, after her shower. They hadn’t shared a bed since last year and as large as the bed was he made it feel small.  She had some last minute work to catch up on and had those papers spread out on the bed beside her. Blaire chewed on her pen, flipping through files and signing off on important documents. The door was already open so when Terry walked in she didn’t notice him. He ditched his shirt on his way to the bed and she eyed the familiar tattoos that decorated his forearms. The lion had a chokehold on black men. 

“How much do you have left?” Terry asked. He slid in the bed behind her, his chest to her back and his hands resting on her thigh. “I want some attention.” 

“Not much,’ she didn’t want to lean into the embrace but she couldn’t hide that she missed him. She missed him so much. 

She told him as much. The warmth of his body pressed up against her as he looked over her shoulder. His thick arm flexed before he placed his hand on her stomach and kissed the side of her neck. The last thing they needed to be doing was having sex. It was the same cycle and it always ended with make up sex. Hot and intense. Terry was intense. The last thing she needed was a lower body realignment so she pushed his head away. 

“I have to get up early in the morning.” 

“Okay?” 

He pushed the strap of her top down her arm and kissed his way from her neck to her shoulder. His beard scratched against her skin and she shivered, gripping her pen tight in her fist. 

“Terry,’ Blaire whimpered. 

“Mmmhm?” 

“You don’t have condoms.” 

“How do you know what I got?” 

Blaire rolled her eyes. “I was always the one that bought them. I know you don’t.” 

Blaire’s body didn’t do well with birth control, Terry still wanted more kids, so when they were intimate he wore condoms. It made sense. As a married couple, it was their only option for birth control, no matter how much he hated it. He pouted every time he had to remove it and throw it away, but he never wanted to put her health at risk. He’d suffer so she didn’t have too. 

“Just once?” He asked. “I want to reacquaint myself with the way you feel. I’ll pull out.” 

Blaire turned her head to hide the smile on her face. That’s how they ended up pregnant with Noah. He didn’t know what it meant to pull out. 

“The last time you said that I ended up pregnant.” 

“Yeah, the back of my truck.” He smiled. “I married you the following morning.” 

“My Dad still wants to fight you for springing that on him.” 

“Your Dad sees me every day.” He replied, scratching his chin. “He gave me hell before I shipped out though.” 

Impulsive had been Terry’s middle name when they were younger. He made split decisions and acted on his impulses. His selfishness was a huge trigger in their relationship. She was glad when he came home from basic training that had been trained out of him. 

“He had dreams of walking each of us down the aisle.” 

“I still want to see that.” Terry admitted. “I’m always going to come home to you, Blaire. I know it doesn’t look like that but it’s the truth.” 

Blaire turned around and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Instead, he turned his head at the last minute and their lips touched instead. As always his scent drove her crazy. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to wear cologne. He just smelled good. It didn’t help that he was a good kisser, knowing just how to hold her to keep her there. Blaire pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his head. Her nails scratched into his scalp as he crawled into her lap. She pushed him away when his tongue licked at her lips, hoping to slip between them and into her mouth. She’d be putty in his hands if that happened. 

“Alright,’ she whispered, ‘I need to finish working.” 

Before that, she reached into her purse beside the bed and dropped the next month’s bills into his lap. He had been paying them in two places and with his lease breaking tomorrow he could focus on his main household. Blaire could have easily paid them, however, he had sent her the money for them monthly, refusing to give up that responsibility just because he wasn’t in the house. She wasn’t a single mother and he made sure she didn’t act like it. He picked up Noah from school three times a week, was here every weekend, fixing shit around the house whenever Blaire called her Dad to do it, maintained her car services, and just bought her new tires. Terry wasn’t going to let their arguments come between doing what he vowed to do. 

He paid most of the bills online and did so as she slowly started to finish and pack up her purse and work bag. When she rose up on her knees he realized what she was wearing. A gray lace night dress that had two long slits on the sides. Her thick thigh shook while she moved across the bed. The straps had fallen off her shoulders and the swell of her breast was the only thing keeping the top up. Her hair was in two braids with satin ribbons on the end to roll them up. He watched her over the top of his phone as she bent over to put her bags on the bench in front of the bed. 

Blaire was well aware of what she was doing. Crawling back to her side of the bed, she ignored his eyes and kicked back the blanket, ass in his face, before she crawled under the sheets. Terry passed her the black bonnet on his side of the bed and she slipped it on, turning out the light while he stared at his phone screen. He tossed the mail and his phone to the side, mimicking her by getting under the sheets. 

He didn’t have to reach for her. She rolled into his arms, her head on his chest and her arm thrown over his middle. He didn’t miss how tight she held him and the way her legs tangled up with his. 

“What time do you have to be on site?” 

“I’ll be here to help get Noah ready.” 

“Okay,’ she replied. “Will you be there for picture day? He’s been wanting to spend all his time with you.” Blaire was far from jealous, however, he could hear it in her voice. 

Noah needed his father and she was happy they had such a good relationship. Terry was a bit more structured than she was and had a stricter hold on the seven year old, but he loved his son and made sure he had everything he needed and wanted. 

“He’s growing up, dushi.” 

“He’s my baby.” 

“He’s not a baby though.” 

Blaire lifted her head. “You could have let him sleep in here tonight.” 

Terry rolled on his side, Blaire on hers beside him. He rested his hand on her hip, his fingers snaking beneath her dressed, and moved closer to her. 

“I was hoping to defile this bed tonight. I want to turn you every which way but loose.” He admitted. He licked his lips, and dipped his head to slant his lips over hers. “But you won’t let me.” 

His body covered hers, resting between her open thighs. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs went around his waist. Heavy, he rested some of his body weight on her, smiling as she curled her body into his. 

“Just let me push your panties to the side,’ he crooned in her ears. “I’ll slide right in.” 

Nasty didn’t encompass the things he was whispering in her ear. Filth fell from his mouth like a sonnet. 

“You better pull out,’ she warned. 

He in fact, did not, but only because she begged him not too. 

Aaron was an early riser. Usually up by four-thirty to get a workout in and stop and get breakfast–but today, he wasn’t rushing. He laid there a bit longer, feeling Brennan curled up against him. Her arm was draped across his chest. He lifted his hand to rub her arm and wrist, then brought her hand to his lips, kissing the soft skin along the back of it.

“Mmm.” Brennan stirred, turning her head, eyes still heavy with sleep. She met his ocean-blue eyes, squinting to look at the digital clock on his side of the bed. “What time is it?”

Aaron grinned, his lips still close to her skin. “Just a little after five-thirty,” he answered low.“You wanna sleep a little longer?”

Brennan pushed herself up on one elbow. “As nice as that sounds, I gotta get up soon. But I ain’t mad for a few more minutes with you.”

He chuckled, pulling her closer with one arm wrapped tight around her waist. “Aight, a few more minutes it is.”

They settled into a quiet, comfortable silence, the first sign of light spilling through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the darkroom. Aaron watched as she relaxed. He loved the way she looked first thing in the morning—eyes half-closed, her black silk bonnet sliding off her head, his shirt hanging loose off her shoulder cause it was way too big and a small, content smile spread across her face. 

“You make it hard to get outta bed,” she mumbled, her voice still dripping with sleep as she snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. His hand that had been on her back shifted to rub her shoulder gently.

“Mhm, that was the plan,” he teased, his lips finding her cheek, then her nose, her chin, before landing softly on her mouth. The hand that had been holding hers slid under the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing the warm skin of her back.

She let out a soft moan, her hand lightly patting his chest before gently pushing him back. “We gotta get up,” she said, a little firmer now, turning her head when he leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t wanna be late.”

It was Open house, and of course, just her luck, it was also picture day. Brennan-being the assistant director had a lot on her plate. She didn’t mind picture days—except for dealing with the parents, especially the dads who seemed to think they had a shot with her. Please, she thought. She needed to get her mind right, though. With a few more lazy kisses, she finally pulled herself out of his arms and headed for the shared bathroom.

“What you wearin’?” Aaron called out as he stretched, getting up from the bed. He headed to the closet on the left side of the fireplace in their room, the light flicking on automatically as his hand reached up to grab a couple shirts from the rack.

“We’re not matching.”

“We’re not matching?” he mocked, holding up two shirts and eyeing them with a smirk. “Woman, what are you wearin’?” He tossed the shirts on the bed with a dramatic flourish before walking around to the bathroom door. Through the mirror, he saw her rinsing her face, steam from the shower already starting to fog up the glass. Her movements were relaxed, like she was in her own little world for a moment. “You lettin’ me drive you today?" Aaron asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Brennan didn’t usually let him drive—she liked driving herself, not because she had to, but because she didn’t want anyone at work all up in her relationship with Aaron, even though they all knew. It was just easier for her to handle her own car and with their schedules always mismatched—him being the history teacher for grades fourth to eight and the Athletics Director—Brennan usually trailed behind him in the mornings.. His after-school football practices ran late, and she liked to be home before five.

She looked up at him through the mirror, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “You know I’m more than capable of getting myself to work.”

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "I know, but we both know you'll be in a better mood if I take you" 

“Would that make you happy?” Brennan asked, her eyes focused on the mirror as she watched his silhouette shift behind her. Aaron didn’t answer right away, just stood there, a quiet presence in the space between them. His hands come to rest on her waist, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before he turned her around to face him. 

“What would make me happy…” he began, his voice steady but filled with an underlying heat, “is getting to treat you like my wife and not a girlfriend.”  His lips met hers in a kiss, soft at first, but deepening as he pulled her closer. Brennan melted into him, the familiar taste and warmth of him never failing to make her heart race. The kiss was full of everything they’d never quite said aloud—everything that had been held back for too long.

They’d been through so many phases of their lives together, on and off for years. But despite all of it, Aaron had never stopped wanting Brennan. She’d always been the one he’d come back to, but her stubbornness, her refusal to let herself fall into something too real, always held her back. 

Brennan pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest as she studied his shirtless form. “I thought we liked the privacy thing.” Her voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in the words too. She wasn’t ready to let everything out in the open, especially not when it came to them. They had always been private—their relationship was never for the world to see. But Aaron wasn’t the type to sit in the shadows anymore. He wanted more and he wanted it with her.

Brennan’s gaze flicked over him, and she realized—when had he taken his shirt off? She couldn’t help but notice how his biceps bulged with the tension. “How long has it been?” he asked, his voice low but carrying that same tone that always sent a shiver down her spine.

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are we starting from when we broke up back in school, or…?” 

Brennan hadn��t forgotten their history. Their relationship had always been complicated in the beginning.. They’d grown up together, practically next-door neighbors, but things got messy once they hit college. The jealousy, the fights, the breakups.Brennan was too stubborn to admit she gets jealous and Aaron not knowing how to soothe her insecurities. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the past, but the weight of it was still there. It always would be.

“Does it even matter?”  Aaron didn’t wait for an answer. His hands moved to sit her on the bathroom sink, moving to stand between her legs. He kissed her forehead gently.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How long has it really been?” He didn’t just mean the breakups or the time they’d spent apart. He was asking about them. About this.

Brennan sighed, pulling away just enough to glance up at him-even sitting on high counters, he towered over her.. "Realistically?" she said, her voice quiet but sure. "Since we were 14." 

Aaron’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against her jawline as he studied her. “So, we’ve been doing this for how many years now?”

“Too many,” she muttered under her breath, but her lips quirked up in a small smile. It had been too many years of this—on-again, off-again, never fully giving in to the love they both wanted but couldn’t quite reach. But the truth was, they’d always been connected, always coming back to each other, even when they tried to fight it.

Aaron didn’t let her dwell too long on it. His lips found hers again, soft and slow, but this time with something else—something deeper, like he was grounding her to him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Brennan,” he whispered against her lips, his hands tracing her back, pulling her in as if he could swallow her whole. “I married you for a reason.” She pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. She sighed, her forehead resting against his as she closed her eyes. 

“I know,” she murmured. She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. She couldn’t help it—her fear, her uncertainty about fully letting go of all the walls she’d built over the years. But maybe it was time to stop fighting. Maybe it was time to let him love her the way she’d always wanted. He was all she wanted.

He grinned, that familiar spark in his eyes. "I’m a patient man, Bre.” 

She leaned back, her hands resting at his sides as she reached for the clippers. “So am I trimming that goatee or no?” she asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Aaron chuckled, watching her with an almost lazy smile. “Yeah”

Brennan shakes her head, clippers in hand as she reaches left hand up to hold his jaw. She gently moves the sharp blades along the edges. The tiny hairs falling on his bronzed skin as she focused on nor nicking the skin. She loved doing this for him, something so intimate about grooming his beard calmed her racing nerves. His hands rested on her thick thighs, massaging the smooth flesh between his thick fingers. 

"So, what you wearin' today?" He asked, like it was a question he already knew the answer to but still couldn’t help asking.

Brennan glanced up at him, rolling her eyes but not hiding the smile tugging at her lips. "You already know I’m not matching with you," she replied, the words coming out light and playful, but there was something about the way she said it that made Aaron chuckle. She always acted like she didn’t want to match with him, but deep down, he knew she loved it. She just didn’t like to admit it.

Aaron shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile as he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you say that, but you’re gonna be real mad when I walk out with some fly outfit, and I see you side-eyeing me 'cause you wish you thought of it first."

She shot him a look while finishing the other side of his beard. "Nah, that’s you, Aaron. You stay thinkin’ you look fly. I’m just tryna get outta here without having to deal with any of your antics"

Her words made him laugh, and he leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek. "you know I only got eyes for you."

Brennan wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or laugh at how smooth he was. The way he said it made it sound so natural—like there was no one else in the world who mattered but her. And while that was sweet, it also made her feel exposed, like maybe she had let him in too much. She quickly shifted her focus, trying to shake off the warmth that spread through her chest.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she muttered, already reaching for her phone to check the time.

Aaron wasn’t having it. "You sure?" He took a step back, but not without lingering for a second longer, his eyes tracing the outline of her. "You wanna wear something  for me, though? Or you just gonna show up to work lookin' like you rolled outta bed?"

She kissed her teeth–her eyes meeting his after placing his clippers on his side of the double vanity sink. "I do roll outta bed. You’ve seen me."

He snorted at that. “Yeah, but you roll outta bed lookin’ like you belong on the cover of dumpster weekly or somethin’.”

Brennan gave him an exaggerated side-eye. "Aaron."

“I’m playing, nèchi.” He chuckles while leaning in closer, his hands resting on her hips as he kissed her forehead lightly. “You’ve got this effortless way about you. I love it.” His voice softened, the playful teasing replaced by something that sounded almost like admiration. “But seriously, you gonna tell me what you wearin’ today or what?”

Brennan rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. She shook her head like she was annoyed but clearly wasn’t. "You gonna stop actin' like you  my stylist?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I might have to take that job on, since I’m the only one who seems to care about what you put on."

Brennan groaned and finally gave in. “Blaire and I went shopping Saturday and I got this brown bodysuit and jacket from H&M.” She dusts the cut hairs from around his mouth. “Gonna pair it with some jeans and ankle boots..

Aaron flashed her a grin, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “bo ta mustra bon sin importá kiko bo bisti.” He ran his fingers through the short coils of his fro. “But, I wanna stop hiding, nèchi” ”

Brennan looked at him, and for a brief moment, all the walls she’d built up in her mind seemed to fade. She let out a breath and nodded, her voice quieter now. “Okay.” 

Aaron smiled, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulled her closer. "You're still gonna let me drive you today?" His breath blew in her face while his nose rubbed against hers. 

Brennan rolled her eyes again, but her smile betrayed her. “I don’t need the whole school talkin’ about us.”

“Laga nan papia.”

Blaire was up at four. She grabbed her robe and yawned while walking down the hallway. She didn’t notice Terry’s side of the bed was empty. She was so used to getting up and doing things herself, that when she saw Terry in the kitchen pouring coffee into a cup, she jumped. His tall looming figure was missed, but it was odd seeing him back in her kitchen…..their kitchen. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” He greeted, a smile on his face. 

Terry passed her the mug before pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and she noticed he was dressed. A white shirt, dirty looking dickies, steel toe boots, he was going to work. 

“Goodmorning," she replied. “I thought you,’ 

“I am. I’m going to give them the run down and help them prep to put up the frames so electrical can come in this week. I will be back here by six thirty when you wake him up.” 

“I’ll have breakfast when you get back.” 

“You don’t need to do that,’ he says, ‘I’m not expecting you to jump back into all that.” 

“I’m going to be cooking for Noah anyway and you will need to eat something.” 

“I mean,’ he says, tugging at the tie to her robe, ‘if you want to feed me you can lay down on the dining table.” 

Blaire’s face warmed at his words. She was far from shy but something about the way he spoke to her made her shy. She swatted his hand away and wondered if he brought all his things back yet.

“What are you taking to eat?” 

“I’ll stop and get something.” 

“What about dinner?” 

“Have I ever told you what to cook?” Terry shrugged. 

Blaire turned around and walked to the freezer, sifting through for something to cook later. She ended her days at three so she had plenty of time. Behind her, Terry pulled her away from the freezer and closed it. He pressed her against the counter next to the fridge and untied her robe. The kitchen was cold and she bit down on her lip as his rough hands rubbed up her thighs. He gathered the night dress around her waist with one hand while the other tugged at her panties. 

“What are you doing,’ she asks as he drops to his knees. “Terry!” 

He looked up at her while kissing the inside of her thigh. He drops it on his shoulder and she feels him shrug. Blaire’s other leg began to shake in anticipation. The light above the stove was the only light on as she cupped the back of her husband’s head. His lips worked over her sex slowly, her dampness spreading across his mouth. A warmth spread quickly in her lower belly as he held her up with his hand on the back of her knee. 

He hummed against her sex, smiling as he stroked her with his tongue. Blaire grabbed the counter and squeezed, her knuckles turning white. 

“Should have let me lay your ass on the table," he joked, only to grab her other leg and put it on his shoulders. 

He stood up and she let out a soft squeal, grabbing his head for balance. He didn’t want to risk walking like this with the lights out, so he used the island instead. Laying her down, Terry pushed her legs up towards her chest, then slid them open so they were almost touching the island. She tried to close her legs, not to feel so exposed, but he swatted her thigh. 

“Keep it open for me,’ he huffed. “Are you still hiding from me?” 

He knew her body inside and out, having seen it so much. Last night he did exactly what he said he would; push her panties to the side and slid in. They hadn’t even taken off their clothes. 

“I haven’t shaved,’ she admitted, eyes clenched shut as his thumb worked through her pussy, her slick collecting on the digit he swiped his tongue across. 

His mouth followed the same pattern, hot and wet and she whimpered softly. 

“I’m a grown ass man Blaire.” He turned his wrists and checked the time. “With an extra fifteen minutes to spare, keep them pretty thighs open.” 

Selfishly she missed her intimate life with Terry. He took care of her physically each time and she knew these next fifteen minutes would be the same. He loved all types of physical touch. The dick was heavy. None of the toys Blaire had compared to what was swinging between Terry’s legs and there had been many nights she called him just for dick. Of course he came. She did too, but that's besides the point. He was the only man that could scratch that itch. 

“Okay.” Her voice trembled. 

Her hands rubbed his head, the low cut hairs felt rough against her hands. Rubbing the back of his head, she sat up just enough to watch his tongue wiggle itself into her hole that was already leaking onto the island. For fifteen minutes, Terry penned his apology into her pussy with his tongue. 

He helped her off the counter afterwards and sent her to start getting ready for Open House. Blaire heard his truck leave the driveway and went back to the kitchen. She pulled out boneless chicken thighs to defrost because of course she was going to cook for him. She had plans to meet up with some of the work crew after school for dinner and she wanted Noah and Terry to have their own meal so schedules weren’t off. Plus, he’d have lunch for tomorrow and so would Noah who had taken to his bento box and wanted to use it all the time. 

Blaire had a ton of tasks today as the Open House was going to be hectic. It was an informal “first day” where students' photos would be taken, families could meet teachers, new families would be given tours, and it was going to be a day she probably didn’t get a chance to sit down. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to wear heels. They were her sneakers, the high heels clicking on the tile of the school was a stim for her. She was that person that walked down the hall jingling keys for no reason. 

After shopping with Brennan, she found a cream dress with red flowers on it. There was some lace around the top and it matched her nude pumps. She’d stretched her curls out and enjoyed the summer weather before fall set in. Blaire walked into the hall bathroom that Noah used. Wanting the day to go smoothly, she ran to his bath and went to wake him up. It was six in the morning and when she opened his door, he was already sitting up in his bed, an anxious look on his face. He jumped when she called his name and concern spread over Blaire’s face. 

“Hey Baby Bear,’ she greets softly as she walks to sit on his bed. 

The red and blue sheets were spiderman themed but lacked the character. Noah was always shifting his interest and it was easier to replace basic sheets than search for appropriate bedding in the style he wanted. 

“Goodmorning, Mommy.” He sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked. 

He crawled into her lap and she hugged him while pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Daddy has to work?” 

Blaire rubbed his back and nodded. “Yeah, he does.” 

“Is he coming to school for pictures?” 

“He said he would.”

Noah jumped off the bed after that. He went about his morning routine as usual, having stuck to it even after school was out the previous year. Terry had told her many times how scheduled he was when she let him spend the night with him. He was becoming more self-sufficient, at seven, and that was in part to her involving him in his own care. It also helped that Terry indirectly did the same. He wasn’t as quick to console him when something was wrong like Blaire. He learned all his problem solving skills from his father. He has the emotional development appropriate for his age, but sometimes there was a spark of emotional maturity. 

Noah rambled on about getting Terry a Spider-Man shirt for the pictures and Blaire had to remind him these were for the yearbook, the fun pictures would come later. Over his breakfast he gushed about how Terry did this and that. It made Blaire feel a tinge of sadness knowing that energy hadn’t been in the house. 

“Can Daddy live here,’ he asked suddenly and Blaire almost dropped her coffee cup. 

“Yeah,’ she replied after a beat. His big hazel eyes were just like his Father’s. “Yeah. He can live here.” 

The front door opened and heavy boots filled her ears. She had a plate by the stove ready, knowing he was hungry, despite what he said earlier. Noah slid from his stool and ran over, his arms circling his Dad’s legs. Blaire was glad she had him in pajamas until right before leaving. He’d have black gravel soot and dust all over his clothes right now. 

“Mommy says you can live here!” 

Blaire turned her back quickly to the duo, option to make herself an ice coffee. 

“She did?” He says, dropping him back at the island to finish eating. “Where am I going to sleep?” 

Terry stared at his wife’s back as he walked over to where she was. He kissed the top of her head and his hand discreetly patting her backside. The dress doing little to hide her curves. 

“Mommy has a big bed!” Noah pressed his mother wit a question. “Can Daddy sleep in your bed Mommy?” 

Terry stood by the sink, shoulder to shoulder with Blaire and a smirk on his face. She moved to the sink, then stopped. 

“Yeah,’ Terry added, finally pulling his wife’s attention to his eyes. The double meaning to his words were not lost off Blaire and she licked her lips. His eyes tracked her tongue and his own darted over his full lips. 

“Can Daddy sleep in your bed?” 

"I'm Brennan Anderson, the Assistant Director here at Melanin Preparatory Academy," Brennan greeted warmly as she stood up from her desk.

Her tone was smooth, confident, though there was a softness in her eyes as she smiled at the family entering the room.A small family stepped inside, looking a bit nervous, especially the parents. The kids seemed more interested in the surroundings, fidgeting with their clothes or glancing around the office, but the parents were the ones who seemed to be feeling the weight of the moment.

"You must be the Creed family?" Brennan asked, her voice laced with familiarity, like she’d been through this a hundred times before.

The mother nodded, giving Brennan a polite but anxious smile, while the father stood slightly behind her, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room. “I’m Adonis and this is my wife T’nya.” 

The kids—two siblings, a girl and a boy—hung back a little, still unsure of what to expect. The girl was clutching her backpack, looking around with wide eyes, while the boy stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to seem cool but clearly uncomfortable. “These are our kids. Amira and Kairo.”

“Hi guys.” Brennan smiles, gesturing to the snack bar by the door. “If it’s okay, you guys can help yourselves to some snacks.” 

Adonis nods. “Just one. We’re meeting grandma for lunch later.” 

“Before we begin.” Brennan redirects the parents attention while gesturing for them to sit down. “Melanin Prep is an African American school that caters to black youth from the ages of six weeks to fourteen.” 

“That was mentioned in the pamphlet.” Adonis glances back at his two kids giggling and snacking on bags of chips. “It was a no-brainer to apply.” He looks back at Brennan, eyes flickering from her face to the ring on her hand. “I’m just not understanding why we were on a waitlist for so long.”

Brennan nods, noticing the once over he was giving her. Bold–considering his wife was next to him. “Like I mentioned, Melanin Prep caters six weeks to the age of fourteen, but that is from start to finish. Amira will be going to fourth grade, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So that means she will be enrolled until eight grade. The same goes for Kairo who is starting first grade. He will be with us until he ages out at fourteen when it's time for him to start highschool.” Brennan explains. “That explains why you were on the waitlist for so long. Our eighth graders have transitioned to highschool and some spaces opened due to a few withdrawals.”

"We understand.” Tnya’s voice a little more guarded than Brennan had expected. "This is... this is our first time going through all this, so we just wanna make sure we understand everything."

Brennan nodded, sensing the nerves in the air. Parents always had a tendency to overthink things, especially when it came to enrolling their kids at a new school. She didn’t mind though; it came with the territory.

"No problem," she said smoothly, reaching toward the stack of files on her desk. The papers were neatly organized with everything from school handbooks to enrollment forms, attendance policies, and the school's code of conduct. She picked up the first file and opened it up with a small rustle, flipping through to the important sections.

"We’ll be going over everything you need to know," she continued, making sure to keep her tone reassuring. "The curriculum, the school’s values, and all the expectations we hold here at Melanin Prep. I know it can be a lot to take in, but I’ll be here to help guide you through it."

T’nya nodded again, though her nervousness hadn't quite eased. "I just want to make sure this is the right place for them. I mean, we’ve heard a lot of good things, but—"

"I get it," Brennan said, cutting her off gently but firmly. She gave a smile that was both warm and confident. "It’s a big step. And trust me, you’ll find that here at Melanin, we focus on not just academics, but on nurturing your kids as individuals. Our environment is designed to help them grow both inside and outside the classroom."

Adonis seemed to relax a bit, but still maintained that guarded stance. "I just want to make sure they’ll be challenged," he said, his voice lower, but not without a hint of concern. "This is a new environment for them. Will they be prepared for the next level?"

Brennan smiled, already knowing what he needed to hear. "Melanin Prep has a strong academic track record. Our curriculum is designed to push students to reach their full potential. Whether they’re excelling in the classroom, or thriving in extracurriculars, we make sure there’s a healthy balance."

“Their last school was rough, so we want to make sure the kids have a chance.”

"Your children will have the opportunity to grow at their own pace, but also be challenged to achieve things they might not think they could. That's what we’re all about here—supporting them as individuals."

They seemed to take in the words,  T’nya’s shoulders visibly relaxing. "That sounds good," she said, giving a softer smile. "I just want them to have a place where they feel like they belong."

Brennan’s smile softened, the understanding clear in her eyes. "That’s one of the most important things we do here. We focus on building community and fostering a sense of belonging, because we know that when kids feel at home, they excel."

The father gave a small nod, as though his concern had been eased. He looked at Brennan for a long moment, his arms now uncrossed, a hint of respect in his gaze. "Well, that sounds exactly like what we’ve been looking for."

Brennan was about to continue with the paperwork when she noticed the kids had started to move toward the desks, exploring the pens and other office supplies, quietly and with more curiosity now. She decided to shift the tone slightly, hoping to bring the focus back to the family as a whole. 

“Before we start. I will need a verbal answer and a written signature on if you guys will be enrolling your children here.” She pulls out a typed document, placing it in front of them.”

Adonis frowns, feeling like he was signing his kids' life away. “What for?” T'nya hits his arm with a nigga really look on her face. 

“What T’nya? She got us signing shit. I thought we were doing orientation.” 

“Mind your language in my office.” Brennan glances at him. “As I mention before our waitlist is extensive. Once your in there is no withdrawing and going to another school and then trying to come back. We have plenty of parents wanting to enroll their kids here.”

“Even if I supply a hefty donation?” Adonis looks at her.

“Adonis!”

Brennan shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Mr. Creed. We are Title 1 Division school, we get plenty of donations from the community and our youth’s parents. We do not take kindly to bribes. That is the quickest way to disqualify your children.” She looks at him. 

Then directs her full attention to T’nya “I understand the reservations, but you wouldn’t have wasted my time if you weren’t going to enroll them here.”

Brennan had her fair share of parents that thought they could pay their way in. She and Blaire had made sure when this school was opened they would keep their morals and integrity.  Taking bribes would feel like a cop out and a insult to everything they worked so hard to build. 

“I’m sorry.” T’nya apologizes. “We would love to enroll our kids here.” She forces the pen in his hand. While they signed the necessary paperwork, she glances at the kids move to the large fish tank she had, several beta fish swimming around eating the food she had put in there this morning. 

“My apologies, Ms. Anderson.” Adonis places a hand over his heart while staring her down. “I just want my kids to have the best opportunities.”

“I want nothing but the best for your children as well.” She places the document in a red scanner connected to her Mac computer. The papers scanning to the harddrive as she gathered several other documents for them to fill out. "Let’s go over some of the policies and guidelines while we wait for the paperwork to be processed," she suggested,. "But first, I’d love to hear a little more about your kids—what are they interested in? What are their strengths? I want to make sure we place them with the right teacher, and encourage extracurriculars.

The parents exchanged a quick glance, the initial nerves now giving way to pride. The father spoke first, his voice filled with a little more warmth than before. "Well, my daughter is really into music—she plays piano and sings. And my son," he looked toward the boy, who was now slouched comfortably in a chair, "he’s all about sports. Football, mostly."

Brennan’s eyes brightened as she jotted down a quick note. "That’s fantastic. We have some great programs here for both. I think they’ll fit right in."

She could tell that they were starting to feel more comfortable now, the worry beginning to lift as they got a better sense of the school’s atmosphere. 

As she went on to explain more about the school’s offerings, from advanced music classes to the athletic programs, Brennan felt the shift from tension to trust—a shift she had seen countless times before. It was moments like these that reminded her why she did what she did. Helping these families navigate this new chapter for their kids, making sure they had everything they needed to succeed—it was what made the job worth it. 

"Alright," Brennan said as she closed the last file, "that covers the basics. You’ve got the information you need, and I’ll make sure the rest of the paperwork gets processed quickly. How about a tour for your kids? They can see the classrooms and get a feel for the school before they start school tomorrow?."

The parents exchanged another glance, then looked back at her, the tension from before completely gone now. "That sounds perfect," the mother said, smiling now. "Thank you, Ms. Anderson."

Brennan stood up, offering them her hand. "It’s my pleasure. I’ll make sure we get them set up with everything they need. Welcome to Melanin Preparatory Academy."

a/n: I want to note that terry and blaire's relationship is very much man of the house/submissive wife type shit, BUT done in a more respectful way. as we explore their relationship it will become more clear but I just wanted to share that ahead of things to come. I just wanted a different type of dom/sub dynamic that was rooted in a nonsexual connection.

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr

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[willows-writings]

‼️This post is part of a choose your own adventure series and is not meant to be read stand-alone. Click HERE to go to the masterlist and Chapter beginnings‼️

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Ask if he's ok

Chapter 2

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Your concern wins you over and you pull back from the kiss. As you pull away Josh lets out a small groan and reaches up to try and kiss you again. You laugh and gently place a hand on his mouth. “Josh, wait, are you doing ok?”

He groans “Y/n no offense but we are not a one night stand who just met each other, we don’t have to do the whole get to know you thing.” he mumbles from behind your hand.

You grin for a moment before your face goes back to serious. “No I mean, with all the guys being here, and I guess… just being here in general.” You remove your hand from his mouth.

His face falls and he moves to sit up, scooting back so his back rests against the headboard and pulling your body with him so you remain on his lap. “Look y/n, in all honesty it freaks me out a bit, I miss them but more than anything I’m happy they all came up here, happy you're here.” He trails a hand down your face and you lean into it. You know there’s more, but you also know these next few days aren’t the time to interrogate him about it. 

“Ok,” You whisper and move your face to press a kiss to his hand “Ok, anything you need I’m here” 

He smiles at you and hugs you close to him. 

Suddenly you hear a noise from outside the room. Josh groans “Someone definitely just broke something, fuck.” He moves you off his lap gently, stands and starts to walk to the door while you remain sitting on the bed.

“Hey,” he turns to your voice, “what if… we just stay here tonight? I mean tension in the group is still running high, there’s a good chance everyone else will stay split off or just go to sleep. We could make hot chocolate and popcorn? Watch a movie? I got a few of those horror films you like downloaded on my computer? It’ll be fun!” You know at this point you're rambling but you can see his face softening the more you talk. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He briskly walks over to you so he can plant a dramatic kiss on your forehead. When he looks at you again there’s a huge smile plastered across his face. “I’ll check on everyone else and get the food and you can stay here, pulling up that movie, and just stay looking pretty for me which shouldn’t be too hard cause you always are.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “I’ll be no more than an hour, maybe get some rest, it’ll be a long night.” He says the last part while walking out the door in a sing-songy voice. 

You smile before remembering something from earlier. “And you know Chris told me about that snow angels comment from earlier.” He leaned back in the room, his interest peaked. “That will not be happening.”

Josh lets out a laugh as he closes the door behind him.

The door closes behind him and you lay back onto the soft pillows, he’s right, a nap would be nice right about now. You close your eyes and let sleep overtake you.

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End of Chapter 2

You got: Ending #4

Chapter 3: Beginning #4 (coming soon!)

OBaC Masterlist

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I like to think if you were actually playing the game this would be the choice that would increase your relationship with Josh the most.

For anyone confused when this takes place it’s around the time Mike and Jess are walking to the cabin, and before Josh goes with Chris and Ashley. Sam failing to turn the heater on alone was the noise.

[kryptznnn]

♡/♛- Disrespectful [II]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

➸ INTERESTS; -jjk!geto suguru/satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; -living within your early twenties, you were working alongside Geto as his protege. As he required extended information on someone who served an important part of his past that he claimed was his enemy, he sends you out to become his personal spy. The only problem was that what the future had in store between you and both men was highly unexpected.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.2.4k, cursing, arguing, romantic tension between two parties, kissing, slight sexual mentions, heated make-out sessions, manipulation mentions.

➸a.i; - i know i know chapter is super short, i'll make it up to u guys i swear im just super tired, next chapter will be way longer!! ily guys.

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♡/♛- Disrespectful [I]

You sighed as you sat back in your car and buckling your seatbelt as Satoru watched you. Waving at you cheerfully as he kept one hand within his pocket. The dinner had ended thankfully, and, in all honesty, it made you leave with more questions than answers.

He made it more confusing and difficult than anything else, but honestly you couldn't complain about a huge part. A man as powerful as him and having that much to deal with? It was largely obvious why he was so closed off when the topic became personal.

If you weren’t on track and so focused or dedicated towards your mission and the information you needed, he either would’ve caught on or had forgotten. You went through so many loopholes with him you were completely unaware of how much time you two had spent together.

Both of your plates had been empty, and the waitress had refilled both of your drink's countless times. It’s as if you two were fighting, well only you. He had a counter claim for anything that came out of your mouth, unless if it was something personal, which he was trying to get out of you to begin with.

By the time the two of you stepped outside of the restaurant it was very late, you had checked your phone for the first time in hours to read the time.

10:47pm

You gasped harshly walking side by side with him when you read the time, repeating it out loud to him. Remembering you had arrived a little before 7pm to be on the safe side and seeing you've been here nearly 3 hours later had gave you chills. He only looked at the silver watch on his wrist and grinned, saying you should go home.

You cocked a brow at him, asking what about himself. He only remarked he had business to attend late tonight, and he offered to walk you to his car. Honestly, you would’ve applied pressure to find out what it was, but you wasted so much energy trying to do that initially inside the restaurant, so you let it rest.

Now you were driving back to your apartment, completely forgetting you were supposed to check in with Suguru as soon as possible. As you pulled into the parking lot, you only grabbed your purse and parked. Soon walking out and locking your car as you used your keys to lock it.

You entered your apartment with a sigh, removing your heels by the front door exhausted and telling yourself you'd tend to it tomorrow. You went straight to your bathroom, quickly de-robing and tending to your face, removing all of your makeup and jewelry. As you were nearly done washing your face you heard your phone ringing from inside your purse that you had thrown on your bed.

You went into your room and pulled your cellphone out from your purse to see the screen lighting up with 'Annoying Ass Satoru'. You smiled to yourself and answered, placing him on speaker as you walked around your room, finding something more comfortable to wear as you unhooked your bra.

"Hey, did you make it back safely?" You heard his voice ask on the line, you changed into your clothes as you answered him.

"Oh no I just crashed off a cliff and fell into the ocean, but I answered your call." You answered satirically, hearing him chuckle over the phone. You smiled to yourself as you listened to him on the line.

You two spoke for a while, exchanging things back and forth, of course without him throwing sudden hints or flirtatious comments. It made you blush partially, even though you've tried so many times to swallow it down.

You had mentioned it before, he was an attractive man, funny intelligent and classy, and besides it shouldn't be anything you should give in too. You had someone already, although the two of you weren't serious and didn't necessarily claim one another, you had Suguru, right?

His comments and attitude had begun to dig underneath your skin, well at least in a good way. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help what you felt, overall, he seemed to be a good man, which made you question why Suguru held such a grudge against him, but it’s not like you could know anymore.

Soon you two wrapped up your conversations and said your goodbyes and good nights. You placed your phone to charge and fell asleep, forgetting entirely to place an alarm for the next morning regardless of it being Saturday.

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Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you were awoken to the sound of keys rattling outside of your door, before you could even properly get up you heard the doorknob twist and your door creak open.

You quickly got up, thinking quickly and using the water leftover from a large glass by your nightstand. Transforming it into a large liquid like dagger and held it with one hand as you placed your other in front of you, hardening it to ice and prepared to fight.

You heard as the footsteps from outside made their way to your bedroom, realizing them immediately and drawing your hands down and taking a sigh of relief.

“I could’ve killed you” you said, lowering your weapon and placing it back in the glass on the nightstand, now melting the ice back to its original form. Suguru didn’t respond, he didn’t even nod or smile, just glared at you.

“Maybe if you would’ve paid attention to the messages or calls, I was sending you, you would’ve known I was coming.” He responded blatantly, you only rolled your eyes at his cold remarks and made your way to the bathroom, freshening up.

“I left the other phone in the car” you replied, now finishing up and washing your face. Hearing him scoff from outside of the bathroom, you dried your face and made your way back to your room, sitting on your bed as you watched him stand.

“Did you kiss him or fuck him?” He asked you, his arms crossed watching your surprised expression. You sucked your teeth at him and stood up, ashamed he would even mention such a thing.

“Are you fucking crazy? Why would you even ask me such a thing.” You spat at him, now making your way to him and jabbing him in the chest. He quickly swatted your hand away.

“I have every right to ask you such a thing. You haven’t returned my texts or calls since yesterday afternoon after you left me without even saying goodbye. Or are you forgetting you didn’t even check in with me after your little date, you completely forgot about me.” He said harshly, now jabbing you back in your chest.

He couldn’t be serious, doing all of this over a simple mistake is idiotic. He’s made countless mistakes before and has always left it to you to clean up, now he wants to act all perfect.

Please.

"I still barely know my position here. I'm not sure what you want from me or what you expect me to do at this little high school or with Satoru. All you do is ever leave me out in the dark or make me clean up after your messes. I'm so sorry I got caught up doing the work you asked me to." You snarled in response, now slapping his hand off of your chest and making your way back to your bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

You couldn't believe him, the nerves of him. He wasn't here or saying these things out of respect or concern for you, it was all jealousy. Jealous of you spending time with another man other than him, jealous of someone else having your attention.

He was jealous of the fact that out of all people you were spending time with, it was with someone he's envied for so long or has tried for even longer to take him down. You shook your head as you looked at yourself in the mirror, still in the same clothes you had slept in the night before.

You could never truly understand Suguru or what his intentions were for you. You could also never make him do what you wanted or preferred him to do, it was constantly a lose/lose situation. After every argument or disagreement, the two of you shared things would always go his way, his ego would climb while yours would falter.

Surprisingly no matter what you said or did to him he'd constantly find a loophole around it, twisting your words against you. You had heard a term for it, manipulation?

No.

Gaslighting.

Whichever form of manipulation it was you hated every ounce of it, and it would make your skin crawl or your head pound. You muttered to yourself angrily as you could hear Suguru outside of the bathroom arguing with you still, or merely himself, as you had stopped speaking a while ago.

You only opened the door, finding him in the same spot as before. You slowly made your way over to your bed and sat on it, watching him waste his breath. The more he pried, you began to just sit there and go on your phone.

He quickly took note of you ignoring him before taking a deep breath and sighing. Slowly making his way up to you and sitting beside you, reaching his hand over your lower back and placing it over your waist as you stiffened a little.

"M'sorry" he said softly before placing a kiss on the side of your head, the sound ringing through your ear. You gave into it, leaning into him slightly, then resting your head on his shoulder.

Every relationship came with it's benefits and downsides, your relationship with Suguru, if you could even call it that, had it's benefits. He was a gentleman when it came to you from time to time, and he loved children, that part always makes you smile.

But there were times when he made you doubt yourself entirely, like right now. Could one of the reasons why he's so closed off when it comes to work with you is because he doesn't trust you enough to share it?

You sighed as you gave him a side hug, now placing your phone off to the side. He smelled good, he always smelled good, and it never failed to make you smile. Soon the two of you let one another go and you stood up making your way to your fridge.

"I thought we agreed you only come here for emergencies" you stated, looking for something to eat. You looked behind you for a split second to see his expression, he only laid in your bed after removing his shoes.

"You're always going to be an emergency for me" he said without hesitation, you couldn't contain your smile as you heard him. You turned back around to see him comfortable within your bed and you made your way over to him. Without a second thought he grabbed ahold of your wrist and pulled you on top of him.

Within seconds you were now straddling him, laughing alongside him as he grabbed ahold of your waist. The laughter between the two of you soon died down as you quickly got realization of what was happening between the two of you.

The pit of your stomach began to flutter lightly as you tried to get up, but his placement on your waist was firm. He was ensuring you wouldn't go anywhere; he didn't want you to go anywhere. He only sat up slightly and kissed you, to which you kissed him back.

You were quick to place your hands on his shoulders in order to keep your balance, deepening the kiss. As the passion was shared between the two of you, Suguru was quick to break the kiss and remove his hands from your waist, simply to take his shirt off.

Before you could do the same or move any further along with him, your stomach growled. You pouted slightly, covering your face and chuckling out of embarrassment as he laughed. His laugh indicating to you that he had definitely heard your stomach rumble.

"C'mon, I'll take you out to eat. My treat? Back by my place." He said, quick to sit you down as he grabbed his shirt and placed it back over his head. You took the time to admire his figure, his torso and large toned back, a large smile plastered on your face.

"What is it?" He asked, turning around to look at you after he had finished pulling his shirt down. You only shook your head and waved your hands around out of defense.

"Nothing, nothing, I'll go get changed" you stated simply, quick to get up and dig around in your dresser drawers for clothes to wear. You could feel Suguru's eyes on you with every movement you made, making you smile even harder.

Without a second passing by, you thought of Satoru for a moment. You raised a brow to yourself as you stood up and made your way to the bathroom, your clothing and towel now in hand.

Why were you thinking about him at a time like this? That wasn't something that had occurred before and it was strange for it to even happen to begin with. After the small, shared moment you shared with Suguru out of all people in this planet your mind could've brought up it had to be his sworn enemy?

As you disrobed and entered the shower your mind began to wander even farther. The flashes of the quick moment you had just shared with your lover, if you could even call him that, were now replaced with Satoru.

This time you weren't confused or upset with your thoughts but embraced it further to see how far it could lead you.

If he had you straddled on him,

Or if he had kissed you,

Or if he kept his firm hands on your waist,

Maybe if he fucked yo-

You immediately slapped your cheeks with both hands, covering your eyes as you quickly got the image out of your mind. You had definitely thought too far and wandered where you didn't expect to end up. This was bad, very bad, and just like that the simple small clip you had imagined of making love to Satoru Gojo hadn't left your mind for a while.

All of the while Suguru was awaiting you outside of the bathroom to take you out to eat breakfast.

This wasn't just bad

It was horrible.

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Current Taglist:

@ami20019

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[stargirlygirl]

Upgrade pt.3

Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Epilogue

Summary: Izuku gets severely injured during a rescue mission. As a result, most of his left arm is amputated. You, being a mechanical and biomedical engineer (and his loyal girlfriend), decide to build him a cybernetic arm to replace the arm he's lost.

Word count: 4k

Other character appearances: Todoroki Shouto + Bakugou Katsuki

🚨Disclaimer & Warnings: Izuku has most of his left arm amputated and it is emotional + swearing

A/n: Sorry if this is a little jumpy. I was struggling with the flow of the chapter.

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It’s 3am and you jolt awake, realising that you had dozed off mid-construction.

It’s been three days since the fight where Izuku lost his arm, and you’ve barely slept since. You’ve been busy, juggling sourcing materials and building Izuku’s robotic arm with visiting him daily and remembering to eat and shower. You look like a little rat to be honest, hair in a low messy bun, welding mask tilted up so you can see. The huge gloves make it hard to meld all of the parts together, but you know that they’re for your own good.

It’s coming together well. You’re supposed to be putting on the last attachments right now instead of dozing off, so it will be ready for testing tomorrow. Luckily, Izuku’s wound hasn’t developed an infection yet and yesterday, you were able to meet with the orthopaedic surgeon who will be attaching Izuku’s replacement arm. You two discussed the design and attachment in detail. He was open-minded and asked you various questions about how the arm would work once attached. You felt grateful that Dr Kita had chosen such an enthusiastic surgeon for Izuku’s second surgery. You were confident that he’d be in good hands.

Looking over to your empty Shoto mug that Izuku scored you for your birthday earlier that year, you decided to take a little break to freshen up before continuing on with welding. You grabbed your mug and made your way to the kitchen, basking in the quietness of the night permeated by the sound of the kettle boiling. You made yourself another coffee and took it out to the balcony attached to your living room.

You loved sitting on the balcony. It always left you in awe, seeing the world below. Usually, Izuku would come out and sit with you in the morning.

You normally sat down in the plush chair to the right and journalled, coffee on the small table next to you, but tonight, you took your coffee leaning over the metal fence. You sighed in a mix of relief and exhaustion. You closed your eyes, feeling the crispy night breeze cascading across your warm skin. You stayed like that for a while until you felt those familiar jitters and headed back inside to continue your work.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

It was around 7am when you finished adding those last touches. You stared down at your work, proud and relieved. The first part was finished now. You had been working over a low table, cross-legged on the floor with a lamp overhead. Your feet had pins and needles and it was such a good yet painful experience to finally stand up. You went to shower and get ready, washing your hair and moisturising with your favourite lotion. You wrapped the arm in a thick cloth before stuffing it with care into the largest tote bag you own. The clothed hand was still visible, peaking out from the top of the bag, but it was good enough.

The trip to Central Hospital was uneventful. Or maybe, you were just too tired to notice anything that had happened. Your brain was working on autopilot, taking you up to level 5 and walking you to Izuku’s room, hand knocking on the door. You didn’t hear any response, so you gently opened the door and slipped into the room.

Ah, he was still asleep. Your sweet angel. Which was strange because Izuku was an early riser. Nevertheless, you came over to his side, placing your bag down on the table by his bedside and sitting on his bed. Your right hand stroked the side of his face, gently cupping his cheek. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. He groaned groggily in response, rocking his head slightly.

You giggled, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He groaned again, eyelids slowly fluttering open to reveal those beautiful green eyes that always take your breath away. A lazy smile spread across his face upon seeing you, and he turns his head to place a brief kiss on your palm, rasping into it, “Morning, honey.”

You chuckle lightly. Gosh your man is so handsome! What a heartthrob. You just love it when he just wakes up.

You move your palm away, now resting it on his thigh. “Did you sleep okay?” He rubs his face with the back of his remaining hand. He yawns and stretches a little, wincing in pain from his still open wound. “I was up most of the night,” he breathes out. “Just thinking.” You stay quiet, looking at him tenderly, hoping he’ll continue. He knows that look well. Sighing, he brushes it off, “Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”

You shake your head, scowling lightly, “Izu-chan. Don’t get like that with me. Tell me, what’s been on your mind?” He looks away from you momentarily, focusing on sitting up. You lean back over to help him up. Once he’s upright, you’re running your fingers through his unruly curls. You laugh at how messy they’ve gotten. His hair is always a struggle to tame in the morning. He moans softly at the feeling. You stop once satisfied with how they look. They’re still messy, but he looks a little more presentable now.

“Come onnnnnnn. Or fine, don’t tell me. That’s cool too.” You whine. He chuckles, “Honey, I just don’t want to make you worry.” His self-sacrificial behaviour begins to get on your nerves. Your brows furrow as you say, “It’s my job to worry. I’m your girlfriend after all. Whose going to take care of you if I don’t?”

He doesn’t like it when you look him that way, upset. He hates making you feel upset. “I’m sorry. It’s just…um,” he starts. Your practically begging him with your eyes to just keep talking. It’s something you’ve been working on together for years, Izuku being more open about talking about how he feels with you. It’s not that he can’t, it’s just that he just doesn’t want to burden you, which is why he tries to keep the worst of his thoughts and emotions to himself. But, he knows how much it irritates you, so he usually ends up divulging it anyways.

“Is it about your arm?” You ask as your tilt your head to the side, nodding toward it. Apart from the cry you two had together that first night, Izuku’s been avoiding the topic of losing his arm like the plague. You’re pretty sure that’s what has been on his mind. I mean, what else could be keeping him up at night right now? And this assumption is confirmed when his eyes widen and mouth drops open slightly. He regains his composure quickly, laughing airily as he looks away from you and starts rubbing the nape of his neck. “Maybe.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Maybe?” Your stare is quite intense and he’s not too sure how long he can withstand it. Apparently, not very long as he gives up trying to hide this from you any longer. “It’s just… hard.” You nod, squeeing his thigh gently above the blankets. “It’s like…” You can see that his eyes are already becoming glassy. “A part of me is gone now. It doesn’t f-feel real. I-it—” He’s struggling to hold back the tears. You move so that you’re curled up into his right side. His right arm is around you, your knees on his lap, arms around his shoulders. He lays his head into the crook of your neck, sniffling. You can feel his tears drip onto you.

You two stay like that for a while as he cries and hiccups. You stroke the top and back of his head as he let’s it out. You hate knowing that he’s been crying all alone, thinking it was better to be by himself than with you. You’re about to start crying too, so you opt to rest your head on top of his, looking upwards every so often to blink those tears back. Once, he’s calmed down and taken some deep breaths, he continues, “I-I don’t know if I’ll e-ever be me again. sniffle I k-know that I’ll sniffle have another arm b-but sniffle it’s not the sniffle t-the same.”

You hum. “I-it’s like I’ve hiccup l-like I’ve been r-robbed of sniffle a part of me. sniffle I’m n-not whole anymore.” You squeeze his shoulder. You know that right now isn’t the time to tell him how wonderful you think he is. He just needs the space to express his emotions and fears first. He continues to cry into your neck until the neckline to the shoulder of Izuku’s All Might shirt you threw on is drenched. You start, “You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing—”

“Honey,” he interrupts you immediately, his voice stiff and cloudy. “sniffle What do you mean this isn’t ‘such sniffle a bad thing’.” His tone tells you everything you need to know. You silently promise him you’re not being a dick and continue, you press on, “What if this is a neutral thing? Something that’s just happened. And you get to decide if it’s a bad thing or if it’s something challenging that you’ll overcome.” You continue running your fingers through his hairs, those green curls bouncing back every time.

“S-something I’ll over- sniffle overcome?” You nod, giving the back of his neck a rub, “Yea, like how you’ve overcome the challenge of One For All and learnt how to master it.” He’s quiet for a few moments. “But I haven’t. Y-you heard what Kacchan said. sniffle I shouldn’t of used One For All at 100%. hiccup I know I-I shouldn’t have but—”

“Forget about what Kacchan said. You did what you did because you wanted to save her, right?” Izuku nods slowly, head still resting on your shoulder. “That’s because your a hero.” You plant a kiss on top of his head. “The best hero ever, okay? And you got hurt. It happens to all heroes. I mean, look at what’s happened to All Might after his years of being a hero. But he’s still strong, right? So you can be too.”

You two let things settle for a few more minutes. By now, Izuku’s stopped sobbing and sniffling altogether. His breathing is much calmer now. You let out a deep breath, “I’m gonna need to borrow your quirk to test your arm.” You point at your bag on the bedside table, Izuku following your fingers. He nods, lifting his head back up. His arm comes down to your waist, hand giving it a squeeze.

You see, the way this quirk stealing thing works depends on the intensity and emotions of the kiss (because you borrow quirks via kissing, remember?). You say that you can ‘steal’ someone’s quirk for up to 24 hours but in reality, you don’t actually know how long you could have someone’s quirk for. It would be temporary of course, but 24 hours is the longest period yet that you’ve ‘stolen’ someone’s quirk. Actually, you’ve never taken Izuku’s quirk before, so you were curious about if you could and how it would work with the wielders. Would you make contact with them? Could you even ‘steal’ Izuku’s quirk? You were going out on a bit of limb when you told Dr Kita that you could. I mean, you’ve never had any issues with other people’s quirks before. Would One For All be any different?

The time you’re able to borrow a quirk for depends on two factors: 1) how strong the quirk and/or quirk user is and 2) how intense and emotional the kiss is.

You rest your forehead on Izuku, activating your quirk, before he brings his lips up to yours. The kiss is soft at first. Either party uncertain of how deep things were going to go. But, you throw caution to the wind and tilt your head more, pressing hard into Izuku’s lips. He meets your enthusiasm, teeth catching lightly on your bottom lip. You moan into it, fingers now tugging at his roots. Soon, tongues are entwining and tasting each other. Boy hasn’t brushed his teeth yet so it’s not exactly pleasant, but you push through. This has gotta give you at least 12 hours with his quirk, right?

A simple peck on the lips or kiss on the cheek could already grant you 3-5 hours depending on how strong the quirk and it’s user were, so this has gotta give you at least 10 hours due to how strong Izuku was and how deeply connected he was to his quirk.

At last, you two pull away, gasping for air. His hand now rests between your shoulder blades, his thumb gently caressing the space there. You feel that familiar, bubbling sensation all over your body, meaning that the transfer of his quirk was successful. You smirk and give him a brief kiss on his forehead, “Thanks, broccoli boy.”

You get up, already missing the warmth of his body, and walk around to the other side of the bed. You’re about to grab your bag when suddenly, you realise, “Izu-chan, you wanna see the arm I built you?” You’re already fishing it out of your tote, placing it on top and unwrapping it from the thick brown cloth protecting it. He hums in agreement.

The morning sunlight glints on the dark green metal. You pick it up with both hands and show it to him. It’s actually not that heavy, maybe 3 kilos, but you don’t want to drop it. “Do you like it?” You look up and he’s wide eyed, staring at your creation in awe. He stutters, “I, Honey, yea, I… Wow, you’re so incredible. It looks great!” He’s grinning and you feel so happy that he likes it.

You begin turning it over and explaining all the different parts and how the arm works, what it can do including normal arm stuff and other stuff. You’ve included a gun barrel, which has already been loaded with bullets, and a small canon that (hopefully) fires electrical bursts of energy generated by his quirk (which one idk man you pick, there’s too many), in the arm. “You make a fist and tilt your arm right for the gun or left for the canon.” He nods.

Once you’ve explained everything that you can think of about the arm, you give him another small kiss before saying goodbye.

You took the elevator down to ground floor and after exiting the hospital, you began walking to the station. Now, you had to test the arm. You planned to go to one of the wooded areas on the very outskirts of Tokyo. You’ve never used One For All before so you had to figure it out before you began testing the arm. Damn! You should of asked him for some tips before you left.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

Izuku’s eyes widen and he jumps in his bed as the door bursts open, clipboard on the back rattling. A scowling Bakugou walks in, Shoto in tow stoic as usual. Broccoli boy immediately relaxes and a small smile comes to his face. Most days, Bakugou and Shoto stayed with Izuku during the day, after you had left. They usually sat down on or beside his bed, talking about anything and everything; the future, their All Might trading card collections, reminiscing about UA.

Today, Bakugou plopped down on Izuku’s bed, where you had been moments earlier while Shoto dragged a chair over and sat on broccoli boy’s other side. The conversation centred around starting an agency. Bakugou was sick of working under Best Jeanist. Meanwhile, Izuku was happy being part of an agency, but had been thinking about starting his own after his rise to the top. And Shoto had joined Endeavor’s agency after leaving UA and worked as a pro hero under him.

“When Endeavor retires, I’ll take over his agency.” Shoto’s voice was calm, but the boys knew how tense it was beneath that smooth surface. “Tch. Thought you didn’t like your old man.” Bakugou folded his arms, furrow between his brows deepening as he stared icyhot down from across the bed. Shoto shrugged, “I don’t have to like him to inherit his agency.”

Izuku pouted, “But Todoroki-kun, I thought you were working on it.” At this, Shoto shrugged again. “OI!” The two boys looked back to the blond. “I DON’T CARE IF YOU INHERIT AN AGENCY, MINE’LL BE THE BEST ‘ERE!” Bakugou had that sharp, lopsided grin on his face as he glared at Shoto, challenging him.

Izuku chuckled, “I’m sure it will be.” He looked down, shaking his head while laughing lightly. Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU DEKU, EH? DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE GIVIN’ UP ALREADY!” The fiery blond had locked onto a new target to express his aggressions. He was pointing at Izuku who just rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Kacch—” Izuku’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

“AH? I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

Izuku continued looking down until he eventually chuckled. He met those fierce eyes with his own much puffier and gentler ones. “You’re right, there is something wrong with me. But, I’m not giving up yet.”

“Tch. Whatever.” Bakugou looked away, rolling his eyes again.

It was quiet for a bit before Shoto broke the silence, “Should we get some lunch?” At this, Bakugou grinned, “Oi, let’s get it from that café we took pipsqueak to.” He was already standing when Izuku tilted his head to side, questioning, “Who’s pipsqueak?” Bakugou barked out his laughter, “YOUR GIRLFRIEND DUMMY.” Izuku’s mouth hung open slightly for a moment, confusion leaving his mind blank, “Oh.”

Shoto got up from his chair and walked around to stand beside Bakugou. He kept his distance thankfully as Bakugou turned around, glaring at him. “You, stay ‘ere. I’ll get us some coffee and sandwiches. You want iced coffee?” Shoto nodded. Bakugou left the two of them alone, walking out with his shoulders hunched as per usual. There weren’t any stupid pockets on the gown to stuff his sweaty palms into.

Shoto came to sit where Bakugou had been, on Izuku’s bedside. Izuku shifted slightly. “So,” he started nervous-curiously, “is that where they went after leaving my room? To the café?” Shoto remained impassive, “I don’t know. I was already at the café when Bakugou and [y/n]-san walked in and joined me.” Izuku gave Shoto that look. That ‘tell me everything’ look. Shoto shrugged, “She seemed stressed. She told me that I was her second favourite hero and Bakugou got annoyed. He bought her a coffee and a sandwich.”

Izuku nodded at this new information. You hadn’t mentioned to him that you went for coffee with Bakugou and Shoto. He assumed that this was because you were focused on constructing his cybernetic arm (which in part was true, but also because he’s already going through so much, you didn’t want to burden him or make him feel insecure about your relationship. He was the only one for you, after all.).

“She’s cute. Quite talkative. You two seem like a good match.” At this, Izuku perked up, “You think?” Shoto nodded. Izuku brought his right hand back to his neck and began rubbing it again. It went quiet again. “I think… I-I think I might propose at the end of the year. What do you think?”

Those heterochromatic eyes hid their surprise well. Izuku? Get married? Soon? He was the only one in a long-term relationship out of the dekusquad. It made sense for him to be thinking about marriage. Shoto could see what a catch you were. If you were his girlfriend, he’d be thinking about it too.

“I think you should do what’s right for you. She clearly loves you very much, and if you love her,” Shoto paused, trying to find the right words. “If it’s the right time, then you should propose.” The boys looked at each other for a few moments, a faint blush spreading across Izuku’s cheeks. “Y-yea,” he stuttered, “I really do love her.” He was smiling foolishly. Shoto nodded.

The peace of this moment didn’t last long though, for Bakugou slammed the door open soon, arms full with a coffee cup tray and paper bags of deserts and sandwiches. The boys ate up, remarking that this café food was something else. The rest of the afternoon went by a smoothly as possible and soon, Izuku was left alone again, inevitably thinking of how much he loves and admires you.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

It was a bright, clear morning. Perfect for a somewhat experimental surgery.

You had delivered the tested and refined cybernetic arm to the orthopaedic surgeon’s office on the cusp of 8pm last night. You had spent the first half of the day communicating with the wielders of One For All and learning how to use it. Because of your quirk, your body was able to transform (if a heteromorph quirk has been ‘stolen’) and withstand intense quirks of all types, so you didn’t have any major issues using One For All at full capacity. Sure, it was very tiring (which you made up for with a good sleep last night. The first in four days.) but, Izuku was your partner and technically, your client. It was your duty to rigorously test the arm to ensure functionality, durability, and safety.

Izuku had been informed early that morning that the surgery was to be performed at 8am. And so had you over a phone call that had woke you up and had you tumbling out of bed to pick up.

“Hello,” you grumbled. A clear, deep voice spoke from the other end, “Miss [L/n]?”

“Dr Kita?” You’re stumbling to your feet now, using the bed to help you up. You plonk down, listening to him continue, “I’ve just spoken to Mr Midoriya. His second surgery will be taking place at 8am. It’s expected to take around 60 minutes. Should I let reception know that you’ll be coming to wait in the recovery room?” You’re rubbing eyes with your free hand, trying to wipe and blink all those morning eye crusts away. “Yea. Yea! I’ll be there soon. Thanks Doc!” He tells you it’s fine and hangs the line.

You fumbled around, showering absent-mindedly and throwing on whatever looked decent (which was another of Izuku’s All Might shirts and a pair of low-rise baggy jeans).

And now, you were waiting anxiously in front of the recovery room. You wondered where Bakugou and Shoto were. Maybe, they didn’t know. Probably. Or maybe, they had been released yesterday as they didn’t have any major injuries. You checked your phone every few minutes for the time as you paced up and down the corridor, like last time. It was just hitting 9am now.

Were they finished yet? Did the arm attach okay? Was something wrong with it? Did Izuku’s wound get infected? Were there any complications? You kept asking yourself these questions and more. Time seemed to slow and stutter as you waited to be called in. 9am turned into 9:15 turned into 9:30. You were getting worried now. Even more worried than before.

But you couldn’t bask in it for long as— “Miss [L/n]?” A nurse was poking her head out from the recovery room doors. Different from the one that did the first time. You stopped in your tracks, running down the remaining length of the hallway to meet her. “Mr Midoriya will see you now.” You nodded frantically. She opens the door, holding it for you as you push past her. See me now? What do you mean ‘see me know’? Had he been awake this whole time? If so then why— It didn’t matter. You shook your head, seeing those untamed green locks peaking out from behind Dr Kita’s slim frame. You let out a sigh of relief.

There was your hero. Safe, sound, and smiling. There was nothing more you could ever ask for.

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part five (chapter 13-15) previous part • next part

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: none!

Lily

Thursday through Saturday dragged by as if it was three weeks rather than three days and my upcoming date with Paige sat like the light at the end of the tunnel.

We were both equally as busy with classes, homework and Paige with basketball and me with work that we had gone the entirety of Thursday and Friday without seeing each other. Of course, we'd spoken on the phone but it wasn't the same so by the time Saturday arrived I was practically craving Paige.

Kelsey and I had picked up an afternoon coffee and I walked her to her shift at one of the cafès on campus. I was on my walk back to my apartment when my phone rang, it was Paige.

"Hello pretty girl."

"Hi Paige."

"I'll pick you up at six thirty, so be ready."

"You don't have to pick me up, I can meet you at your apartment if that's easier."

"I'll be picking you up, Lily."

"Yes ma'am."

Paige had still refused to give me even the smallest clue as to what our date would consist of but I did manage to get a 'casual' dress code out her, although what that meant - I don't know.

I spent the short walk home going through casual outfit options in my head that could be acceptable to wear on a date and came to one conclusion:

I needed to consult Hannah.

"And she's not even hinted at where you could be going?" Hannah asked and I shook my head, "Nope."

"Oh, this is fun though! Paige Bueckers - the romantic." She squealed as she rifled through my closet. "Are you excited?"

I nodded, a huge smile spreading on my face, "So excited."

"You seem really happy Lily." Hannah said turning to me, her hands full of clothes.

"I feel really happy." I say honestly because I do. This is the best I've felt since before everything happened but unfortunately I know my brain and I know this feeling isn't forever but I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

"Show me my options then." I say to Hannah and she brings multiple sets of clothes over to me and lays them out on my bed.

"Casual is a broad spectrum, your girlfriend left us with a lot of choice."

"She's not my girlfr-"

Hannah cuts me off with a wave of her hand, "Tomayto, tomahto." She says.

"Theres a jeans, skirt and yoga pants option." She explains pointing to each pile of clothes.

Mom jeans were a staple of almost all my outfits so naturally that's what I strayed to. Hannah had choosen a light denim wash pair of jeans with a long sleeve white off the shoulder top.

"I think I'll go with that." I say picking up the other two outfits and putting them back in my closet.

"Good choice! I'll leave you to get ready." She says walking out of my bedroom.

I take my time getting ready because a rushed Lily is a stressed Lily and a stressed Lily is grumpy and I wanted tonight to be perfect.

I decided to curl my hair instead of straightening it for once and hoped Paige would like it, she's never seen with curls before. I did my usual simple makeup and before I knew it, I had checked the time at it was 6:20PM. Paige would be here in ten minutes.

I gathered my necessities and stuffed them into my hand bag: wallet, keys, lipbalm.

I snapped a picture of myself and sent it to Emma and she replied instantly with a series of immature, teenage boy-esque emojis, I giggled out loud at my best friend.

At 6:30PM on the dot, there was a knock on our apartment door, "I think that's for you." Madison said peeking her head round my bedroom door before her, Hannah and Kelsey all retreated into her room.

My stomach fluttered as if I was on a blind date and I was about to see the person I was going out with for the first time. But when I opened the door to reveal Paige, my Paige, that I know so well, my stomach settled and any nerves were replaced with warmth.

Paige was wearing black cargo pants and a hot pink sweater, she had a bag slung across her body and her hair was sleek and straight, tucked behind her ears.

Her blue eyes shone bright against the pink of her sweater and I was speechless for a second.

"Hi Lils." She says a small smirk playing on her lips, "These are for you." She produces a large bunch of pale pink peonies from behind her back.

"P, they're beautiful." I gush taking the bouquet from her and admiring the flowers.

We quickly step inside so I can put them in a vase with water, "Ready?" I turn to Paige once my flowers are neatly displayed.

"Ready, pretty girl." She says and follows me out of the apartment.

"You look so good." I compliment her as we get into her car, "I think pinks your colour."

"Thank you." She says a small shy smile on her face.

Paige refuses to answer my hundreds of questions about where we're going, she practically drives in silence ignoring my pleads for 'just one clue'.

"Lily, has anyone ever told you 'patience is a virtue'?" She asks turning to look at me as we stop at a stop sign.

"Paige, I'm a passenger princess, not a patient princess." I tell her as we begin to drive again.

"Well princess, you don't have to be patient anymore. We're here." She says taking one more turn before bringing the car to a stop outside of a church.

To say I was confused was an understatement. Paige was very open about her faith and she would often tell me how important it was to her but I struggled to see how this would be a date setting.

"You tryna make me your wife already?" I joke as Paige opens my door for me and I step out into the cool, New England fall air.

She just laughs, slipping her hand into mine and begins walking us towards the perfectly sculpted building.

"No, seriously Paige." I stop us in our tracks. I had a complicated relationship with my religion and Paige knew that.

"Just trust me." She says and begins walking again and I do trust Paige so I followed her.

As we got closer to the entrance, I could see someone at the door as if they were checking tickets, this only deepened my confusion.

I watched intently as Paige opened her emails on her phone and scrolled a little before clicking on one, revealing two barcodes ready to be scanned.

"Good evening." The woman at the door smiled and sweet smile before scanning the codes and handing us a pamphlet each.

Looking down at the paper in my hand, my confusion disappeared but tears prickled in my waterlines, "Paige..." I breathed out looking up at her, the tears threatening to spill.

The pamphlet showed the interior of a chuch, lit entirely by candles with an orchestra in the middle with the title,

Candlelight Concerts:

Lana Del Rey

I was in shock as we walked through the dark church illuminated by, what must be hundreds if not thousands of candles.

Paige lead us to an empty row of seats and we sat side by side, our hands still firmly in each others.

"How did you find this?" I ask her in awe of what I was seeing.

"I have my ways." She responds smiling as the orchestra begins playing Young and Beautiful.

The entire concert was instrumental, played solely by the orchestra and I had goosebumps the entire time.

Lana was my favourite artist ever. Her music had helped me and shaped me in so many ways and to hear it in a way I've never heard it before, so stripped back, so raw was incredibly special to me. And the fact that Paige had thought of me, found this event and brought me here made my entire body tingle with a feeling I'd never felt before.

The orchestra finished with National Anthem and the tears that had been threatening to fall the entire night could no longer be held back.

"You wasn't supposed to cry, pretty girl." Paige says to me as she gently wipes my cheeks.

"They're happy tears." I choke out, "Paige, that was beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it." She says as we walk out of the church and back to her car.

"I feel like anything I say won't properly articulate how I feel. That meant so much to me, I don't think you understand." I ramble out wanting Paige to know how I felt but not knowing how to express myself.

"I wanted to do something special for you, something you'd remember." She tells me.

"I'll never forget that, P. Never, ever."

We ended our 'first' date paying homage to our actual first date and got frozen yogurt. I had to physically battle Paige to pay for our orders but of course she won.

In one swift movement she had swiped my card out of my hand and held it above her head out of my reach while she tapped her own.

A chill ran over me as we finished our Fro-Yo, I had underestimated the New England weather, I should have brought a jacket.

Paige must have noticed me shiver because she reached round behind my seat and pulled out a hoodie.

A grey UConn Huskies hoodie.

"Here." she says handing it to me and I immediately pull it over my head and down my body, instantly feeling warmer.

Paiges signature vanilla musk wafted up from the sweater and it took me back to that night in bar when I smelt her scent for the first time.

I spent the car ride home focused on how I was going to orchestrate what I wanted to do and after a quick text to Kelsey, by the time we pulled up to my apartment block, I had it figured out.

I began to pull off Paiges hoodie to hand it back to her, "Keep it." She says stopping me, "I've been meaning to give it to you."

"This won't stop me from wearing my UMass one." I tell her, pulling the hoodie back down.

"But this one suits you so much better. You look good in my clothes." She says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "You also look good with curls." She adds, running her fingers through the ends of my hair.

As always, Paige walked me to my front door, "Come in for a second?" I ask hoping her answer would be yes and it was.

We walked into the living room to my roommates watching Netflix, Rachel Greens voice playing out loud through the apartment. We said quick hello's before going into my bedroom.

"It looks like a bomb exploded in here." Paige laughs looking around my messy bedroom, the mess I had created while getting ready.

"I was trying to look my best for you." I say quickly tidying stray makeup products away as I searched for what I needed.

"You do that without trying, Lils."

"Here." I spin around to Paige, a pair of scissors clutched in my grasp and I extend them out to her.

She takes them from me, even though I know she's confused from the way her brows are scrunched, "What are these for?"

I don't say anything, knowing that my actions will speak louder than my words. I roll up my sleeve uncovering the thread bracelet Kelsey had tied round my wrist mere months ago, "I'm over this club." I say.

Paiges eyes widened slightly in realisation, "For real?" She asks stepping closer to me.

I nod, "For real." And I watch as Paige takes the braided bracelet between two fingers and holds it off my wrist before closing the scissors on it, cutting the thread clean of my arm.

"Lily, will you be my girlfriend?" She asks unable to hide her smile.

My expression mirrors hers, "Yes. I'll be your girlfriend." I say and she drops the scissors so both her hands are free to cup my face as she leans down to kiss me.

Muffled cheers and whoops come from the living room and Kelsey yells out 'finally!' and I silently curse the thin walls of our student accommodation as I continue to kiss Paige, my girlfriend.

My girlfriend, Paige.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

"What do you want for your birthday?" I asked Paige as we sat side by side in a booth at, what had become our favourite Italian restaurant to get dinner at.

"You." She flirts, slipping her arm around my waist and squeezing my hip, heat rushing to my cheeks at her touch.

"You've already got me." I tell her just as our food begins to arrive.

Paige had gone for an alfredo and I ordered my all time favourite, lasagna.

"Are you excited for your party?" I ask Paige.

Paiges birthday was exactly a week away and her party was a day later on the Saturday. Her dad, stepmom and brother Drew were coming into town to spend the weekend and I was excited to meet them in real life after many FaceTime calls.

"Yes, I can't wait to have a weekend off with all my favourite people." She says as she sips on her, you guessed it, Shirley Temple.

"Azzi has planned this party as if it's your bachelorette." I laughed thinking of Azzis endless lists and frantic shopping trips to get everything into place.

"She's the queen of planning, I said I'd help but she said I'd just get in the way." Paige responds shrugging her shoulders as if there's no valid reason her best friend had come to that conclusion.

I drove us back to Paiges apartment after dinner, "Are you not coming up?" She asks me as I pull up, stopping the car but not turning it off.

I reach for my phone and text Azzi, letting her know I'm downstairs.

I shake my head, "I have plans." I say suspiciously.

"Which are?" She asks furrowing her brows, Paige knew what I was doing and what I had planned at almost all times, that's just how we were.

I tapped the side of my nose indicating it was a secret.

"Well, I'm coming." She says adamantly, not moving from her place in my car.

"Paige, you can't." I say as the main entrance to the apartment building opens and out walks Azzi, Caroline, Nika and KK.

"Why?" She huffs not noticing her friends and teammates approaching.

"Because we may or may not be getting your birthday gifts."

"We?"

"Move it, Bueckers." Azzi says opening the door and practically dragging Paige out of the car.

"Oh, I see how it is." Paige nods as her friends bundle into my car.

"Don't miss us too much." I call out of my window and Paige walks round to me pressing a kiss to my lips.

"OK, I know we call you our parents but enough with the PDA." KK groans and fake gags from her seat behind me.

"Enough of that or you'll come home to all your Trü Frü eaten." Paige quips.

"Don't you dare, Paige!" KK yells as I drive off laughing.

Nika controls the aux on our journey to the mall and it really shows me why her and Paige call each other 'twin', she could have easily been playing Paiges playlist - thats how similar their music taste is.

We strolled around the mall, trailing into store after store all looking for the perfect gift for Paige.

"What about these?" Nika says holding up a pair of white Nike sneakers with lavender accents, Azzi and I nod immediately, "Yes! She'd love those." I encourage and Nika calls over the sales assistant to ask if they have Paiges size.

"Are you really not going to show us what you got in that jewellery store?" KK asks me as we wait and I shake my head, "No, not yet. I mean Paige will probably show you anyway." I say to the girl.

"It's not an engagement ring is it?" She asks eyebrows raised and I laugh, "No KK, it's not an engagement ring."

"Did I hear engagement ring?" Caroline asks joining us on the couch in the store.

"Yes, but I also said not in that sentence too. I'm not proposing to Paige guys, we've been girlfriends for like two weeks."

"She'd probably say yes, you know." Azzi says matter of factly, catching me off guard.

"I don't think so." I reply.

"Lily are you kidding? She's so down bad for you." Her best friends assures.

"Like down bad, down bad." KK agrees.

"Really?" I ask. I know Paige likes me obviously, we wouldn't be dating if not, we've never really spoken about it but I assume Paige has had her fair share girlfriends in her time and I'm just one of many.

"She never stops talking about you. It's always Lily this and Lily that."

"And you practically live at our place." Azzi says, "In our time at UConn, she's never had a girl stay over for..more than one night." And she makes a face at the fact she just exposed her friends hook ups.

"But since you've been around, it's only been you." Caroline says putting an arm over my shoulder, "You've locked her down."

"I hope so." I say.

I don't care what Paige did before we got together, I had a life too but I smile at the fact that she's changed for me and suddenly my sentimental gift doesn't seem so cringy so I show the girls what I bought.

"She's going to love that Lils." Nika says as she joins us with Paiges present in her hand.

"She's actually going to be insufferable about it." Azzi fake groaned as we left the sneaker store.

"It's not...too much?" I ask still feeling slightly insecure about my gift.

"Have you met Paige?" KK says, "It's perfect. Stop overthinking."

"Have you met me? Overthinking is my middle name." I half joke because obviously it isn't but the girls know me well enough now to know about my turbulent mental health and how much I otherthink almost everything.

Once we all have our gifts for Paige, the last thing we pick up at the mall is ingredients for a cake. After a lot of persuasion, Azzi finally agreed to allow me to bake Paiges cake and I was taking the task very seriously.

"$150 on ingredients for a cake is insane." Nika says as we pile back into my car ready to head home. "That would have been like €30 in Croatia."

I drove us all back to campus with Nika on aux again and dropped the girls off at their apartment before driving to mine.

"I'm back." I call as I enter the apartment letting my roommates know I was home.

"Hey Lils." Madison greets me from the kitchen, "How was the shopping trip?"

"Successful!" I say placing my bags on the table.

"Show us what you got your girlfriend." Kelsey says in a sing-song voice.

For the president of Single Sisters, I must say, Kelsey is mine and Paiges number one fan. She even goes as far to call us Pily - she was stuck between that or Laige but apparently that 'didn't sound right'.

I show my roommates what I got Paige and they reassured me that she would love it.

"I kinda got her a present too." Kelsey says.

"Really?" I ask confused. Sure, Kelsey and Paige were friends through me but I never imagined they'd be friends to the point of buying each other birthday gifts.

Kelseys skips off to her bedroom and returns seconds later with a small organza bag in her hand.

"Here, look." She says handing me the bag.

I open it and peak inside, I immediately laugh.

"What club are these for?" I ask pulling out the two thread bracelets, similar to the ones Kelsey and I had, just a different colour way.

"No more clubs." She waves her hand in dismissal, "I just thought it would be a funny gift, you guys don't have to wear them if you don't want to."

"I love them Kels and I know Paige will too. You should give them to her." I hand her back the bracelets.

"Good idea. I'm yet to have the 'you better not hurt my best friend' chat so that'll be the perfect time." She laughs.

"Play nice." I joke before taking Paiges gift to my bedroom to wrap and write out her card.

I like to think words are my speciality. I've spent my life writing in journals and expressing my thoughts that I could never put into words and I intend to do the same for Paige.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

Azzi really had gone above and beyond for her best friends birthday. Paige's celebrations were starting with a dinner tomorrow tonight with the team and her family before going to a karaoke bar. Then the day after was her party. Azzi had hired a private room in the back of Huskies and had invited everyone they knew on campus.

My apartment had been used as storage for the endless amount of decorations and balloons that Azzi had ordered meaning Paige had been temporarily banned as to not spoil anything.

"It's seriously messed up that I have to wait outside." Paige huffed as I bundled out of my front door simultaneously pulling a sweater over my head, Connecticut was getting cold.

"Azzi has put a lot of thought into this and she wants you to be surprised." I say stretching up on my tip toes to kiss my girlfriend hello.

"It's not like its a surprise party, I know it's happening." She continued to argue as we took the elevator down.

"I'm changing the subject now." I say getting into the passenger seat, "How was your workout?"

Paige nods and like clockwork flexes her biceps, "What do you think?" She smirks.

"I think we should get going, your family has been at their hotel for an hour already." I say to her. Paiges family flew in from Minnesota earlier today and we were going to meet them so Paige could introduce me before tonight.

“Just feel them." She persists, arm still flexed.

"Paige..."

"You know how many people would pay to feel my guns and you get them for free, pretty girl."

I reach out and wrap my hand around her arm - admittedly my hand doesn't wrap all the way around - and I press down slightly on the hard muscle.

"So strong." I say sarcastically but my red cheeks are far from sarcastic.

"Do you need to pee or something?" Paige asks me as I shuffle from foot to foot as we wait for the elevator to take us up to her family.

"No, just..." I look up into her big blue eyes, "just nervous." I admit and she giggles softly.

"Don't be nervous Lils. You've spoke to them a million times on FaceTime and they love you already." She says wrapping me in a hug as the elevator dings open.

There was an audible gasp from the other side of the door as we knocked and I smiled at Drews excitement to see his sister.

The door swung open and before I had a moment to compute what was happening, Drew had his arms wrapped around my waist, "Lilyyy." He beemed up at me with the cheesiest grin.

"Hi Drew." I smile and crouch down slightly to hug him. I look to Paige and she has an equally cheesy grin on her face, you could definitely tell they were siblings.

We stay with Paiges family for a while just sitting and talking and Paige catches them up on basketball and just life in general and I realise there was no need to be nervous at all. I felt like I'd known these people my whole life.

"I hope she's treating you good." Paiges dad, Bob says to me with a serious expression.

"She is," I say blushing slightly, "you raised her well."

"I never thought I'd see the day, Paige being in a serious relationship." He says.

"Okayyy." Paige drags out the word as she stands up, "That's our cue to leave." She holds out a hand, I take it and she pulls me up off the couch we were sitting on.

We say quick goodbyes before leaving, knowing that we'd see each other later that evening.

"I'm coming to the realisation that you're quite the player." I joke to Paige as we take the elevator down the the hotel exit.

She laughs, "Really, why?" She asks as she stretches in front of me to the press the button.

"Just what your dad said and Azzi may have implied something too." I say slightly awkwardly my eyes not daring to look in Paiges direction.

"What did Azzi say?"

"Just that I was the first girl you'd had stay more than one night."

"Does that bother you?"

I shake my head, "No, I just can't imagine you being like that."

"I wasn't always like that." Paige says as we walk through the hotel lobby back to her parked car.

"What does that mean?" I ask only now looking towards her but she isn't looking at me.

"It doesn't matter." She says walking a few steps ahead.

I speed up my steps so I'm next to her again, "Paige," I grab her arm to stop her walking, "you can tell me. I won't judge you."

"I know you won't, it's not that. It was so long ago, I feel like it doesn't matter anymore."

"But it's still something that happened to you and if you want to tell me, I'd like to know." I say to her genuinely. I've never seen Paige so awkward and uncomfortable, she can't even look at me.

"Let's get in the car." She says and I follow her to her car, getting into the passenger seat as she gets into the drivers seat.

I half expect Paige to just begin driving and ignore my offer to speak about this but she doesn't turn the car on, instead she focuses her eyes on the steering wheel, hands placed firmly at each side.

I stay silent not wanting to push her, clearly this is a difficult conversation for her to have but I want her to know I'm here so I reach over tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, my hand falling to the back of her neck and resting there.

"It was my freshman year," She begins and I'm grateful that she's comfortable to speak, "I had finally come to terms with who I was and who I loved and there was this girl and we were just friends at first but it became more than that pretty quickly and to me, it was obvious what we were..." She pauses shuffling in her seat to look at me for the first time. My eyes lock onto hers and I nod for her to carry on.

"But I guess it wasn't as obvious to her because we went home for Christmas and she came back with a boyfriend and acted like she never knew who I was. Never spoke to me again. I was so confused and hurt and I never wanted to give myself to a person the way I gave myself to her ever again..." She trails off.

I want to say fuck that girl, she never deserved you but I choose my words wisely.

"Paige, I'm so sorry that happened. That's unfair, so unfair. You didn't deserve that."

"It was like she was embarrassed of me and I never wanted that to happen again so everything and everyone since then has been casual. Nothing serious enough for me to get hurt again."

"You know I'd never do that to you right? I'd never hurt you. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time and I want everyone to know it. I'd shout it from the rooftops. You're not embarrassing to me, Paige. You're everything to me." I tell my girlfriend, my hand now secured in hers.

"I know Lily, I can feel it. We wouldn't be here if I didn't. You just met my family, the most important people in my life. Meeting you made me realise that whatever I had with Marianna wasn't real. This is real." She says and I can see her shoulders relax like a weight has been lifted and I just get the sudden urge to say what I've been feeling for a while now.

"I love you, Paige. I am in love with you and I'll tell you that everyday just so you know how much I mean it."

Paiges eye widen then soften immediately, I don't care if she doesn't say it back. It's how I feel and I wanted her know and now felt like the time to do that.

"Lily." Paiges voice is soft and sweet and I prepare myself for her to not say it back and I avert my gaze.

"Lily," Paige starts again and her hand moves my face to look back at her, "I love you. Of course I love you. I hoped that was obvious." She says smiling now and I can't help but smile back.

It was obvious, Paige loves so deeply and openly with no holding back that it's impossible to not feel it.

"It is." I say still smiling.

"Good." She replies before kissing me and it feels different than usual. It feels like the first time we kissed on the basketball court. My stomach flutters as her hand caresses my jaw, her lips on mine moving in perfect synchrony.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[ur-local-kiwi]

flashbacks to that part in knk when tobi smiled for the first time and it was literally the most incredible and important thing to ever happen ever

[sheliesshattered]

I think my tastes must just vary wildly from most people's, but I feel like the last several fanfics I've read have gone on for five or six chapters too many. I'll take an open-ended happy ending over wading through 15k+ words of a dense cloud of cotton candy overly sweet denouement in which every aspect of their perfect life together is explained in excruciating detail, and pet-names and 'I love you's are exchanged every other paragraph

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [one]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 6k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.

read part two here

a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.

When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.

An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.

After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside. 

Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still. 

You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said. 

Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles. 

Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms. 

It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across. 

He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist. 

He heals you.

Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily. 

This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.

“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.

You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.

Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.

Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.

You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?” 

Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.” 

Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Anything”

“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.” 

Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.” 

“Thanks a lot.” 

With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you. 

“Hey” 

“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you? 

“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”

You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together. 

He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down” 

Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him. 

“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?” 

“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.

“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible” 

You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”

Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who’s this close to you every time of the day.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath. 

Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated” 

“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?” 

This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise” 

“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.

The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go. 

Let go of your happiness.

Let go of your salvation.

Let go of your comfort.

Let go of Jungkook.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest. 

“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.

You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me” 

He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.

“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that. 

You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.” 

He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.” 

You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.” 

Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?” 

Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.

It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread. 

You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies. 

“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?” 

“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?” 

You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave” 

His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning” 

Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more. 

You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible” 

He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands. 

You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you. 

“How long has it been since you began making this?” 

“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”

You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.

He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?” 

A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there. 

“You smell so good” 

“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him,  “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.” 

“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.

“You’re gonna spoil her” 

“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.” 

There it is. 

If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.

You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.

This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose. 

“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry. 

You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?” 

Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.

He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,

“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back” 

“Where are you goi-”

“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support. 

“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog. 

He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.

He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?” 

Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles. 

His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”  

He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft. 

“Mom sent this for you.” 

You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item. 

“It’s beautiful”

He gently wipes the tears away,

“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.” 

You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming” 

“What is?” he asks,

“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough” 

Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,

His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,

“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,

Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,

Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this. 

You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?

To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.

“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.” 

His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.” 

Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.

Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him. 

“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.

“Wait, I-I want to talk about something” 

His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips. 

Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips. 

He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off. 

His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.

“Jungkook, please” 

He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?” 

“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.” 

“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?” 

At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate. 

He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?” 

Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts. 

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss. 

He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it” 

You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”  

Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath. 

He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs. 

When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already. 

Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you. 

Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine” 

You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.” 

His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it. 

“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes. 

Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.” 

He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop. 

“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth. 

You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.

Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.

Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?” 

“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.

It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does. 

Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory. 

“Lose the pants” he commands. 

You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him. 

You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities. 

“God you’re dripping, honey” 

“For you” you admit.

Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly. 

His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?” 

A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.

He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt” 

You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.

Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss. 

He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen” 

Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy. 

You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.

A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him. 

He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less. 

“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.” 

Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears. 

“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out. 

Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.

Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you. 

“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?” 

You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens. 

His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it. 

He smirks, “Like what you see, honey” 

“You’re beautiful” 

His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.

You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.” 

“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again. 

His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.

You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers. 

You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come. 

Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.

You murmur. “I love you” 

His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle” 

He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.” 

Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something. 

But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.

An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away. 

You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right. 

He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time? 

You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?” 

When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere” 

Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet. 

You grin, “I wouldn’t let you” 

He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them. 

“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises. 

Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight. 

Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.

Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?” 

For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.

Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you? 

The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"

@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3

[earlyspringtranscendence]

currently 500 pages into rhythm of war, am enjoying the things im enjoying very deeply (mostly shallan and adolin. and veil and radiant and shallan’s dynamics. and kal but thats easy because he’s my favourite character and besides isn’t even hitting that hard in this one its just that everything he does is everything to me) but so much of it also is just such a slog and idk if it’s me because i usually set aside a day to read like 80% of the book in one go or if it’s the fact that a friend has now also read stormlight and shared some opinions w me that i dont disagree with or if its the book itself but like. navani is such a boring POV character and adolin’s reduction down to his fashion sensibilities is a snore and the bridgemen are practically absent so kal doesn’t even have anyone to endear him even more to me and even venli’s just too like. cautious to have anything going for her. like fr the only person i don’t have any sort of a complaint towards as of rn is shallan

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[seospicybin]

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

ROUND 1

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 2.

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

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[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes. 

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now. 

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was. 

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence. 

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with. 

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes! 

And he did. 

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them. 

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion. 

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it. 

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today. 

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring. 

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall. 

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later. 

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street. 

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress. 

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable. 

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone. 

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone. 

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough. 

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really. 

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore. 

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still. 

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming. 

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home. 

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet. 

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life. 

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be. 

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved. 

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did. 

You just wished you weren’t always right. 

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time. 

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked. 

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them. 

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier. 

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear. 

But it would do for now. 

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up. 

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor. 

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private. 

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have. 

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight. 

And you slept. And slept. 

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t. 

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did. 

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve. 

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

[togament]

" 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. windbreaker boys edition. "

pt. 1. (sakura, ume, suo.)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : kinda suggestive (i mean it's me. ofc its gotta be suggestive somehow), some swearing, kinda ooc for suo. can you blame me though? we know so little about the man and we're already 140+ chapters deep.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

- canonically doesn't own a pillow so he only sleeps on his side, curled up to conserve heat. like a cat. but after having you around? he's clinging onto you, man. he may deny it vehemently when you tease him about it in the morning, throwing pillows at you as he's blushing profusely, but he doesn't know you've taken a picture of him with his arm over your chest, tugging you close to him. - clenches and grinds his teeth when he sleeps. you buy him a mouth guard so his jaw isn't as tense when he wakes up. (TMJ sufferers rise up) - sleeps in his boxers when you're around but if not, he's going commando, baby. just... text him when you're planning on surprising him in the morning. give him prep time unless you're looking to eat sausage for breakfast. - gets bed hair but doesn't care. he'd have a huge cowlick on his head but he doesn't mind. best he could do is kind of wet his hair? anything more than that is too much effort. - very light sleeper. if he hears the smallest bump in the night, he's immediately up. - has only one duvet and it's kind of falling apart. you gifted him a new one and he almost cried in front of you (not without freaking out about it first.) - talks in his sleep sometimes. you record him whenever you catch him doing it just to play it back for him in the morning. he's always so confused as to how and why he does it.

𝐔𝐌𝐄.

- won't sleep unless you give him his goodnight kisses. you have to. how dare you deny him of the pleasure of kissing you before you sleep? - always lets you sleep before he does because he reads before he sleeps. - needs reading glasses and falls asleep with them on. CONSTANTLY. you have to remind him about them before you snooze or you peel them off when you wake up before he does. has broken one (close to a dozen) reading glasses before you came along because he kept sleeping on them. - has to read before he sleeps. it's a necessity. he reads stuff ranging from philosophy to manga. never fails to fall asleep with a book in his hand too. - checks on a spreadsheet he's got for his plants so he has a game plan ready in the morning. checks the weather and temperature and everything before he does his reading routine. worries endlessly if a heavy typhoon drops or god forbid hailstorms. - HUGE SLEEP HUGGER AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. his body just naturally gravitates towards you in his sleep. it's cute. it's endearing. until it's a hot summer night and you're damn near naked because just wearing a shirt's making you sweat. ume's just a happy sleeping puppy of a man, sweaty body clinging to your side. - a very light snorer. you rarely ever get to hear him snore. he only does after a particularly tiring day or after you've had rounds and rounds of se-- - gets a boner most nights. - wet dreams often. you have to help him out in the mornings. - that being said, he's very, very touchy in the mornings.

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

- sleeps like the dead. you may or may not have held your finger to his nose to check if he's still breathing. - never has bed hair. when he wakes up, he looks absolutely impeccable. it's crazy. - has a candle warmer set to a timer. likes sleeping when his surroundings smell good. also has a scent diffuser. - has like... a 30 minute long ritual before bed. candle warmer, check. proper pyjamas, check. pillows plumped, check. skincare routine, done. you always end up waiting for him on the bed while he's apologizing with that sweet voice of his while crawling into bed with you. - only ever sleeps facing up. if you want to cuddle, he could. but he can't engulf you in his frame or anything. just an arm around you or maybe with you pressed up against his side. - he runs cold so he's got thick duvets over thick duvets. they're really soft too. hotel quality. always gets them washed. - somehow you've never caught him in the process of waking up. he's always up before you, brewing tea or cooking breakfast. hell, he already has a set ready for you by the time you wake up. - who am I kidding suo never sleeps.

a/n: just a quick little thing before i hop into bed. doing part two soon bc i wanna clown on kaji so fucking BAAAAAD omg (affectionately) ok goodnight babycakes.

[neil-gaiman]

I was a HUGE reader as a kid, like one of those gifted kids that read multiple grade levels above my own, won a couple of competition with AR points kind of kids. As an adult life drained that from me and i stopped reading. I always had excuses, and when i did try to read it would take me more than a year to finish a chapter book with more than 200 pages. I couldn't get interested in any books and none of them made me feel awe inspired like i did as a kid.

Then one of my friends suggested re-reading a book from my childhood. Something familiar and nostalgic. So i went to the book store and i took home the Graveyard book.

It felt just like it did when i was 8 or 9 right after it came out, there was always a waitlist to borrow it from our schools library and i would put myself back on it everytime i returned it.

Since then I've read 3 books in less than 6 months. i just wanted to say thank you for giving me and many others whole worlds to escape to, as children and as adults.

Much love - me and my mom who have bonded over your stories

That's wonderful.