#but what is CAUSING it is the real question

[writeriguess]

heyy hope you're well! i love your writing, if possible, could you write bakugou thanking his wife when he wins an award for his hero work? thank you x

The Real Reward

The bright stage lights glare down on Bakugou Katsuki as he stands behind the sleek black podium, a polished golden trophy in his calloused hands. The weight of the award is nothing compared to the battles he’s fought, the villains he’s taken down, or the lives he’s saved—but still, it feels heavy. Heavy with meaning, with gratitude, with everything he’s never been good at saying.

The crowd watches in hushed anticipation, thousands of eyes locked onto him. Cameras flash, recording this moment for history, for the next generation of heroes to look back on. And yet, none of that matters to him. Not the reporters, not the sponsors, not even the high-ranking heroes sitting in the front row. No, his crimson gaze seeks out only one person—his wife.

You’re standing off to the side, close enough to the stage that he can see you clearly, but far enough that you’re not in the limelight. But that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? You, supporting him from just beyond the glare, always within reach yet never demanding the spotlight for yourself. You who stayed up on sleepless nights, waiting for him to return. You who patched up his wounds when he was too stubborn to go to Recovery Girl. You who kissed the scars he earned from throwing himself between civilians and danger. You who, despite everything, never stopped believing in him.

Bakugou exhales sharply through his nose, gripping the trophy a little tighter. He’s never been good at this kind of shit—expressing what’s in his heart. But for you, he’d try. Always.

“Tch,” he huffs into the mic, making the audience chuckle lightly. “Dunno why I gotta say somethin’. I did what needed to be done, that’s all.”

Another wave of quiet laughter, but there’s nothing amusing about the way his expression softens when he finds your eyes again. He swallows thickly, his grip on the trophy loosening slightly. “But… this ain’t just my win.”

The room is silent now, hanging onto his words. Heroes give speeches all the time, but when it’s Ground Zero—explosive, rough-around-the-edges, no-nonsense Ground Zero—giving one, people listen.

“This job ain’t easy,” he continues, voice gruff but steady. “We don’t just fight villains—we fight exhaustion, self-doubt, the weight of every goddamn life that’s ever been put in our hands. It ain’t just the battles out there that wear us down—it’s the quiet moments, the aftermath. When the dust settles, and all that’s left is the question of whether we did enough.”

He lets the words hang in the air for a second before pressing on. “And through all that… there’s only one person who’s been there for every moment. One person who saw me at my lowest and never looked away. Who didn’t give up on me, even when I was too much of a stubborn bastard to let myself lean on ‘em.”

You press your fingers to your lips, trying to keep the emotion from spilling over. You knew he loved you—you never doubted that. But to hear it, to witness it, to feel it in the weight of his words, was something else entirely.

Bakugou clears his throat, looking away for a moment like he needs to gather himself. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but no less firm. “To my wife,” he says, staring straight at you. “Thank you. For every damn thing.”

A murmur runs through the audience. Some people smile, some glance at you with admiration, and a few reporters scramble to jot down the rare sentimental words from the number one hero. But none of that matters to you. The only thing that matters is the way his eyes soften, the way his mouth quirks in the smallest, barely-there smirk meant just for you.

He lifts the trophy slightly. “This? This ain’t just mine. It’s yours, too. ‘Cause I wouldn’t be standin’ here without you.”

The applause is deafening. The roar of the crowd, the whistles, the cheers—they’re all for him, for the hero they adore. But the look in his eyes, the words left unspoken between you, tell you the truth:

His heart, his victory, his everything—

Those are for you.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 2/?

*slips another piece into your mailbox*

_____________________

Jazz was still feeling a little woozy from his donation in the dark hours of the morning. Blaster had breakfast changed from the usual to something that felt more like a treat, probably a reward for his good behaviour, and to help his body recover. Fish heavy in proteins, fat, all that healthy stuff. Something that normally he would have tried to savour, but he wolfed it down from excitement. Too many questions ran through his head, and most he couldn't bring himself to voice.

The mer, the mer would pull through. Blaster told him about how he had saved their life with his blood. Praised him high and low. Because Blaster knew how Jazz felt about seeing blood, about how hard blood tests were for him, and that was only a tiny vial. Not three big bags of it. Jazz hadn't seen how much they had taken – because he had kept his eye closed until they left in a hurry –, and hearing about it made him dizzy for other reasons, but he honestly felt real proud of himself.

It was a new feeling, different from other moments of pride – like when he figured out the lock codes. Yeah, this gave him butterflies and the drive to help more.

Blaster laughed when Jazz offered that the vets could take more if the other mer needed it. His handler didn't think it would be, but he would pass it on to the vet team.

Jazz's morning checks were a little off, expected with having a little less fluids and feeling off-balance, but it was kept short and quick. Blaster told him that if he learned anything more, he'd tell him next time he came by and then hurried back down to the staff area. Blaster was needed elsewhere, understandably as there weren't many mer experts here, though he did leave Jazz his waterproof stereo if he wanted to play some of his favourites.

But, the orca mer was far too busy causing a whirlpool from the laps he was swimming. He was too excited to sit still, and embarrassment be damned he started practising old vocals. He didn't remember much of his mother tongue, and he was pretty sure that his pronunciation was off, that or had one hell of an accent. Echo-speech was even more rusty. And once he had gone over and over what he could recall, Jazz began to really worry. A few sentences and handful or so of words was all he had? Gods, I hope I can at least make a decent first impression. Blaster said they were just like me, so hopefully, that will give me some starting points.

More than he cared to count, Jazz would swim into the shallow waters of the medical bay and hope to see something through that window. But no one ever came close enough for him to hear any news of the mer. He couldn't even see anything on his radar, wherever they had done treatment, it wasn't in the hospital ward. It almost felt like he was being purposely kept in the dark.

And just when Jazz was starting to worry that things had taken a bad turn, a group of staff turned up around four pm. He wasn't able to ask any questions, or rather they refused to answer. Shooing him away as they got to work. Starting with closing the gate to the bay to 'keep him out'. Jazz could easily climb those walls, but that wasn't the point. Even if the gate window was closed, he could pick up that they were setting up the water hammock. But it wasn't until he heard the cautionary beeping of the hoist lift approaching that it dawned on him – the mer was coming. Now.

"Jazz," Blaster called, "… Jazz," he blew the training whistle and finally got his mer's attention. "Stop pacing and get over here."

"But–" Jazz looked back longingly up the wall.

"Jazz," his tone dropped to a firm one, and Jazz begrudgingly swam over to the pier. The human crouched and made sure that they held eye contact before he spoke. "I need you to promise me that you will stay in your enclosure."

He sunk a little, trying to play into his cuteness, but being far too anxious to really pull it off. "What do you mean?"

"Jazz," now warning him. Blaster knew full well that he was more than capable of getting into or out of places he shouldn't, bloody Houdini mermaid, "this is serious. Things are going well, we want to keep it that way. Which means keeping things calm and feeling safe. You're excited, I get it, we all are. But in about an hour, they'll be waking up and – from past experience seen with wild Mers – they will likely freak out. And the last thing we need is you hauling your tail over that wall and making things worse. Understand?"

The beeping was louder how and the hiss of hydraulics caused Jazz to look up. The arm of the lift was visible over the wall. They're here!

"Jazz," Blaster hopelessly called for his attention once more.

Within moments, a massive bundle was carefully raised, the staff calling out and coordinating. Jazz's gaze was fixed on the black and white fluke poking out, it was the only part of them he could see, and his heart began to race. Once they became hidden by the wall again, Jazz moved back to pacing by the gate without even thinking. Listening to people hopping into the water to unstrap the mer and call back n' forth. "Careful, careful! – Watch the head! – Someone give me a hand over here! – We're clear on this side! – Keep the head up!"

Really starting to sound like a broken record, Blaster chirped the whistle and called out to him again. The expression he wore must have been pretty pitiful because the look on Blaster's face dropped. "If I open the view port… will you promise me that you will wait, that you will stay in your enclosure?"

"I promise," he answered hastily, placing his hands on the gate, over the panel that would slide open.

"And that you will wait until everything is in the clear, till the staff come to oversee the integration. There will be no rushing things and no asking staff when we will open the gate."

"I promise," he repeated, trying not to beg.

Satisfied, Blaster pulled out his radio, "Blaster to Control; when the team is out of the Mer enclosure's medical bay, open the view port. Jazz's stress is mounting without a visual."

"Can do," came a quick reply.

Though, opening the panel was not. Several minutes went by, the hoist had cleared out, and much of the staff had returned to their other duties. Only two remained double-checking the mer's breathing and pulse. The moment that the last of them left, Jazz heard the lock disengage, and he retracted his hands as the panel shifted and began to slide open. The window was too small to get more than his hand – maybe up to his elbow if he wanted to push it – through, and sat just at water level– any movement sending water hopping to either side. But it gave him a clear view of the surface area inside.

Oh.

Oh. Jazz stopped breathing. While the mer's body was mostly supported by the fabric of the hammock, cradling them on their side, effectively hiding most of them from Jazz's angle. Propped up on a soft floating platform was the mer's head, face towards the gate. Sharp features and elegantly shaped finials, with flattering lines of their markings complimenting the peaceful expression as they slept. The butterflies from earlier came back stronger than ever, his heart thundering as words fumbled from Jazz's lips, "he's beautiful…"

_____________________

-GLC

Orca Prowl really is just-- too fucking pretty, omg, I'm living through Jazz in this moment like when I first saw your designs of him.

I'm more than happy to continue writing for you, you bring me so much joy. I screamed when I saw how much you liked it. If you have any requests you would like me to add to the story, leave it in the tags or comments ♡ I now plan to continue until the tsunami and a bit afterwards, maybe more, we'll see~

Oh. MY GOD. OKAY ALRIGHT OKAY ALRIGHT OKA

I'M ABOUT TO START PACING IN CIRCLES JUST LIKE JAZZ OVER HERE KDLCNFJFLFB PL E A S E THIS IS SO GOOD. The tension?? You can fucking TASTE it IT'S SO GREAT GLC I LOVE YOU

The way it all starts at night and then you (as a reader) have all this additional time to boil in your anticipation?? So fucking great. Like you can really feel how little power Jazz has over the wholse situation. The plot is moving but he doesn't have any saying in it. Well. Yet heheh

Anyway haha. Im normal and I made some art>:D

[holyblonded]

the putellas test | birds of a feather

pairings: hopkins!paige bueckers x black!oc, alexia putellas x platonic!reader, alba putellas x platonic!reader

summary: alexia plans a series of test to see if paige is worthy enough to date her niece

warnings: none(?)

notes: i’m finding my grove back for this series 👻

Paige had barely stepped foot inside the Putellas household when she realized two things:

1. Alba was definitely the fun, carefree aunt.

2. Alexia Putellas was about to ruin her life.

It wasn’t that Paige had expected smooth sailing. She had heard plenty of stories about La Reina from Cecilia. The unwavering discipline. The intensity on and off the pitch. The death stares. Cecilia always said it with love, of course, but that didn’t make it less terrifying.

And now here Paige was, standing in the middle of the Putellas living room, completely at the mercy of one of the greatest footballers in history.

“Ah, so this is Paige Bueckers,” Alexia said, arms crossed, her voice void of any warmth. Paige blinked at the intensity in her gaze.

She had met Geno Auriemma, a man who practically yelled for a living, and he still didn’t intimidate her half as much as Alexia Putellas did in that moment.

“Uh, yeah. Hi?” Paige offered, throwing in a small wave for good measure.

Cecilia, her own girlfriend, stood off to the side, looking way too amused for someone who was supposed to love her.

“She’s real, Ale,” Alba teased from the couch, sipping her coffee like she was about to enjoy a show. “Not a hologram.”

“Yet to be determined,” Alexia muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she straightened up and gave Paige a once-over, scanning her like a book.

Paige had never felt so judged in her life.

“Do you have a problem?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Alba choked on her coffee.

Cecilia’s eyes widened. “Paige why—”

Alexia raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Again, Paige had two options: backtrack immediately and pray for survival or commit to it.

She sighed. “You’re staring at me like I just walked into a courtroom without a lawyer.”

Alba burst into laughter breaking the silence, actually wheezing as she clutched her stomach.

“Oh, I like her,” Alba grinned, wiping a tear from her eye. “You picked a good one, neboda (niece).”

Alexia, however, remained stone-faced. Paige swallowed.

Cecilia, still looking a little worried, decided to step in. “Ale, don’t scare her off. I’ve had this one since kindergarten.”

Alexia exhaled loudly and finally uncrossed her arms. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s see if she survives the test first.”

Paige froze. “The what?”

Alba whistled. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. She did these with my partners too.”

“How well do you know Cecilia?” Alexia demanded, hands on her hips.

Paige blinked. “Uh… really well?”

“We’ll see about that.” Alexia pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page clearly labeled “Paige Test.”

Alba snorted. “Oh, she’s been planning this.”

Paige’s heart started racing. “Is this a joke?”

Alexia stared at her like she had just said she preferred orange juice over apple juice.

“First question,” Alexia said, ignoring Paige’s mild panic. “What’s Cecilia’s go-to comfort meal?”

“Easy,” Paige smirked. “Cocas.”

Cecilia grinned. “Correct.”

Alexia frowned, flipping the page. “Butchered the pronunciation, but, fine. What was Cecilia’s favorite toy as a kid?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Her stuffed koala, Coco.”

Alba gasped. “Wait, Coco still exists?”

Cecilia groaned. “Yes, and now I regret telling Paige she’s still around.”

Paige beamed. Alexia narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, last one,” Alexia muttered. “What was the name of Cecilia’s first pet?”

Paige hesitated, then said, “She never had a pet.”

Cecilia gave her a proud nod. “Correct.”

Alba whistled. “Damn, I was hoping you’d get that one wrong. Just cause.”

Alexia huffed, clearly annoyed that Paige passed the first round. “Fine. But that was just the warm-up.”

Paige suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Why are we at a field?” Paige whispered, standing stiffly on the pristine turf pitch as if she’d accidentally wandered into a gladiator arena.

Alexia smirked, casually tossing a ball between her hands like a villain in a sports movie. “If you’re going to date my niece, you need to prove you’re worthy.”

Paige crossed her arms. “I feel like I should’ve signed a waiver for this.”

“Beat me in a 1v1.”

Paige blinked. “What.”

On the sidelines, Cecilia was already cackling, her phone out to document the unfolding disaster. “Amor, I love you, but you’re so screwed.”

Alba, who had settled comfortably into a lawn chair with an iced coffee, nearly choked on her drink. “Oh, this is going to be hilarious.”

Paige turned back to Alexia. “You’re playing like it’s a Champions League final, aren’t you?”

Alexia raised a brow. “Of course.”

Paige exhaled. “Cool. Just wanted to mentally prepare myself before I get sent into early retirement.”

The game started, and within ten seconds, Paige knew she was doomed. Alexia moved like she was playing an intense game, which, unfortunately for Paige, meant she had not a single ounce of mercy in her bones. The second Paige even thought about trying to defend, Alexia nutmegged her so smoothly that Alba screamed from the sidelines, falling out of her chair in laughter.

“Oh my god—SHE COOKED YOU,” Alba howled, kicking her feet on the ground.

Cecilia wasn’t much better, barely holding the camera steady as she gasped through laughter. “Amor, bend your knees, stay low—oh, never mind. She got you again.”

Paige was starting to sweat. She knew she wasn’t a football player, but this was getting embarrassing. She tried again, this time using her basketball instincts to anticipate Alexia’s movement. It almost worked until Alexia spun around her like she was an orange traffic cone and easily slotted the ball into the mini goal.

Paige groaned. “Did you have to add the spin move? That was excessive.”

Alexia smirked. “I was holding back.”

“Holding back?” Paige echoed, hands on her knees. “I think my soul left my body on that last turn.”

Alba clapped her hands like a delighted spectator. “Ale, you should’ve been a bullfighter. The way you let her charge and then just moved out of the way? Beautiful.”

Paige shot Alba a betrayed look. “You’re supposed to be the fun aunt.”

“I am,” Alba grinned. “That’s why I’m enjoying this so much.”

Fifteen minutes later, Paige lay face-down on the grass, sweaty, breathless, and questioning every decision in her life.

Alexia stood over her like a victorious warrior. “That was embarrassing.”

Paige groaned, her voice muffled against the grass. “You slide tackled me.”

“This is Spain,” Alexia shrugged. “We don’t take it easy.”

Cecilia jogged over, shaking her head. “Ale, you’re literally the most overprotective person in the world when it comes to family, but you just sent my girlfriend flying across the field.”

Alexia crossed her arms. “If she wants to date you, she needs to be strong enough to protect you.”

“From what? A rogue defender? A pigeon in Plaça Catalunya?” Cecilia shot back. “Besides, she’s a basketball player!”

“You never know,” Alexia muttered ominously.

Paige groaned louder, still sprawled on the ground. “Is this the last test?”

Alexia smirked. “One more.”

Paige dared to glance up. “Oh god.”

Alba grinned. “Good luck. This one’s psychological.”

Paige sat slumped on the couch, exhausted, while Alexia paced in front of her like an overzealous teacher preparing for a final.

Cecilia sat cross-legged next to her, munching on a snack with the carefree air of someone who had zero stress in life, unlike Paige, who had just been subjected to a day of physical and psychological warfare.

Alba was leaned up against the kitchen counter, watching the whole ordeal like it was a reality show.

Alexia finally stopped pacing, turning to face Paige with the gravity of a judge about to deliver a verdict.

“Final question.” Her voice was calm, but there was something undeniably intense about it.

Paige, despite being wiped from the impromptu 1v1 and whatever else Alexia had put her through, sat up a little straighter, her exhaustion fading under the weight of the moment.

Alexia took a step closer, studying her with sharp, discerning eyes. “Do you love Cari?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “With everything in me.”

Cecilia, who had just been about to take another bite of her snack, paused, her expression softening.

Alba let out a quiet “Awww” from the kitchen.

For a moment, the room was silent. Alexia simply stared at Paige, as if searching for any cracks in her answer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a slow, approving nod. “Good.”

Paige exhaled, feeling relief flood her body. Maybe, finally, she had passed the test—

Then, with absolutely no warning, Alexia leaned in close, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper.

“Because if you ever hurt her,” she murmured, “I know people.”

Paige froze. Her brain went blank for a solid five seconds before she blinked rapidly.

“Did you just threaten me?”

From the kitchen, Alba howled with laughter, nearly knocking over her drink. “Ale, you can’t just say that to her!”

Alexia shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just saying.”

Paige turned to Cecilia, still slightly shaken. “Does she actually know people?”

Cecilia sighed like someone who had pondered this question too many times. “Honestly? I don’t even know.”

Alexia remained dead serious for a moment longer, letting the weight of her words linger. Then, finally, she cracked a smile, the first genuine one she’d shown all day.

“Welcome to the family, Paige.”

Paige exhaled deeply, her entire body sagging into the couch.

“Jesus Christ.”

Alba, still grinning, raised her glass in Paige’s direction. “You survived, Bueckers. I honestly wasn’t sure if you would.”

Paige groaned. “Neither was I.”

Cecilia leaned into Paige’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You did good, amor.”

Paige huffed. “I better have. I think I aged five years.”

Alexia smirked, arms crossed. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen what I did to Alba’s first girlfriend.”

Paige paled and her throat grew dry.

Alba threw her head back and cackled. “Ale, stop terrifying her!”

Alexia just smiled. “No promises.”

[writingwithgeoffrey]

“What the fuck is a ‘temporal paradox’?” You remember asking that question to your friend at a garage sale years ago. Now, you had nothing. Nothing, in a time where you didn’t even exist. You had no parents, no way to get back home. You had lost your friend somewhere in the jump, and now you were all alone.

That didn’t curb your desire to return to your time. It didn’t hold back your rage, even as you were held in an orphanage until you were eighteen You scoffed at the absurdity of it all. An orphan in my own time and this one, you thought to yourself.

 In all honesty, you were prepared to spend the rest of your life full of hatred, working out a way to bring your friend back. Or, at least, get revenge on the asshole that sold you that “temporal paradox.”

One day, however, many years after you’d been ripped away from your own time, you found your attention captured by a man across the street. He wasn’t as clean as many of the other men in town. A drifter, from the looks of it, wearing ratty clothing but holding a smile on his face.

Something about him was captivating, and before you knew it, you had struck up a conversation. He didn’t talk at all about his past, and what he did talk about seemed full of confusing twists and turns. That didn’t dampen the love you felt for him, but it did melt away whatever anger and frustration you may have felt about your situation.

When you found out you were pregnant, the drifter vanished from your life. He made the usual claim of stepping out for work, only to never return. You resented the man that had done this to you, but knew that whatever love you felt for him was still some kind of real.

The baby was born perfectly healthy. She was all right in every regard. Breathing, crying, sleeping normally.

You, however, were not all right. The delivery had taken its toll on your body, and in the process of saving your life, the doctors made a discovery you’d been fighting to keep hidden your entire life. You were intersex, born with both sets of sex organs. They had never caused you any trouble up until this point, but now the doctors were telling you there was only one way to survive: they had to remove the damaged parts and stitch you up with whatever remained, hoping you’d live a normal life. As a man.

Whatever, you thought. As long as I live to raise my daughter.

Then the news rolled in. Although first presentation had been nominal, closer inspection had revealed that your daughter was also intersex. The doctors said they would be willing to try corrective surgery, but that your daughter’s chances of survival were low. You decided against it. After all, you had managed to live with it, and you could help her through it.

You were happy for the first time since the drifter had left. You were at peace. You had your daughter.

Until you didn’t even have her. One of the nurses shook you awake in the early hours of the morning, frantically telling you that your daughter was missing from the nursery. You tried to rise and chase after whoever had taken her, wherever they may have been, but you were too weak to take even a few steps.

Your life took a downward turn. You had lost everything, and your new status as a man—even if medically necessary—had labeled you as an outcast. You fell heavily into alcohol, which took up whatever funds remained available to you. You became a drifter, staggering from bar to bar, caring not if the clothes you wore become ratty and full of holes.

It was in year seven of your drunkenness that you stumbled into a bar beneath an overpass. It was dim and grungy, with a small neon sign that read “Pops’ Place.” There wasn’t anyone there besides the bartender, but that was good enough for you.

You staggered over to the bar, sat yourself down, and with a drink or two extra in your system, spilled your life story. The bartender—no doubt Pops—seemed to listen with only kindness in his heart, nodding along and offering comforting nothings here and there.

However, when you finished your spiel, the bartender said something peculiar, something about avenging the strange drifter that had left you pregnant and sent you on your downward spiral.

You perked up. Of course, you would leap at the opportunity. The condition, however, was that you join the Time Travelers Corps. You didn’t know what it was, and in your drunken state couldn’t remember the temporal paradox that had led you down this path long before the drifter had. You agreed without a second thought.

With a slight smile, the bartender led you to a time machine in his backroom. Your first stop was seven years back, according to the bartender. The year that the drifter had taken everything from you.

You shuffled out onto the street, finding almost nothing had changed, and you were about to question Pops, only to find the bar had vanished in its entirety.

Fed up by people ruining your life—or perhaps your drunkenness ruining your life, not that you would admit it—you started down the street. If this truly was seven years prior, you were ready to kick some drifter ass.

At least, that was you thought. She changed your mind. She was beautiful, young, full of such hope. Yet, at the same time, you could see a fury burning within her eyes. She had a mission, much like you.

When the two of you locked eyes across the street, you saw her hatred soften up, and you found your heart beginning to pound at the sight of a kindred soul.

One thing led to another, and your life took a turn for the better. You maintained your drifter ways, taking her along for the ride, but you made a concerted effort to get over your alcoholism.

When the news arrives about your lover’s pregnancy, you’re ecstatic. However, Pops returns then and tells you that you must leave. You try to push back, but he says that it’s time to fulfill your end of the promise. Up until that point, you had forgotten, and although you hadn’t yet gotten revenge on the drifter, you had found love.

You agreed, as much as it hurt you to leave behind your lover. Pops dropped you off almost twenty years after you vanished from your lover’s bedside. There, the Time Travelers Corps was beginning to grow, a burgeoning group of individuals striving to keep the timeline secure in both past and future.

You made a name for yourself in the Corps. Everyone respected you, and as you climbed through the ranks, you found a reverence that you hadn’t experienced once in your life.

You had three missions left. That was what you were told. The first was to take up the position of a lowly bartender, serving to recruit people to the Corps’ cause. You though it was odd but said nothing as they gave you the disguise and the necessary training.

Then, you were sent back in time. Your given name was Pops, which you considered odd, but you thought nothing else of it as you took up your place behind the bar.

Your first recruit, the only man to step foot in your “bar” since its opening day, was a drifter dressed in ratty, worn clothing. He shuffled over to the bar, plopped himself down, got a few drinks in him, and spilled his life story.

After listening, you gave him the information he needed to hear. You told him he could get revenge on whoever had wronged him, on one condition: that he join you in the Time Travelers Corps.

He agreed, and you sent him on his way. That was when you were given your next mission. Go back in time and take a lonely newborn from the nursery of a hospital, and drop her off in the future. You thought nothing of it as you scooped her up from her crib, and in a matter of moments, you had left her on the doorstep of an orphanage.

Only your final mission awaited. Go forward in time, carry with you a new state-of-the-art pocket-sized time machine, and make sure a young girl and her friend received it, disguised as an old man running an estate sale before he moved into assisted living.

You watched with a smile on your face as the target took the bait, picking up a small, translucent cube with a sticker on it that read, “temporal paradox.” Your smile widened into a grin as you heard what the girl asked her friend.

“What the fuck is a ‘temporal paradox’?”

You point at the ‘for sale’ sign. “What the fuck is a ‘temporal paradox’?” you ask. “I dunno,” replies your friend. “But it’s only 20 bucks. Let’s buy one.”

[sincerelybubbles]

spencer x reader || alarms

late night working on a case, the hotel fire alarms on your floor won’t stop going off. what choice do you have other than to crawl to a pining spencer reid’s room to try and get some rest?

warnings: one slightly ? suggestive comment if you squint, mutual pining, not proof read. build up/background of a bubbly!reader i’ve been meaning to write about <3 v short n sweet fluffy!!!

————

“hey,” you whisper when spencer opens the door, pillow crammed under your arm. your sweats are rumpled, long shirt almost hitting your knees under an equally oversized academy shirt, hair mussed and eyes sleepy.

the sight makes his chest burn and his knuckles grip tight against the doorframe.

“hi?” spencer manages to respond, voice confused but still stepping to the side to let you inside automatically.

you shuffle by, pink fuzzy socks peeking over the tops of your dress shoes. it’s ridiculous, the sight of the fluff spilling over the edges of your mary jane’s (unbuckled), made even moreso by how cute he finds it.

“sorry, i know it’s early. the fire alarm on my building won’t turn off, it’s been almost 45 minutes.” you turn once you hit the small kitchenette in his hotel room and awkwardly clutch your pillow to your chest.

after a moment of squinting, eyes unaccustomed to the dim of the room and contactless, spencer realizes that you’re not holding a hotel pillow. rather, it’s covered in little pink daisies and looks far more comfortable than the rocks on his bed.

“i was wondering if i could take the chair in your room?” you ask, continuing despite how spencer’s mind is now racing with thoughts of your pink daisy sheets that he was aware of before tonight (this morning?) but wasn’t expecting to be reminded of when his mind is still hazy enough to crave the warmth of your body next to his.

“you—yeah.” spencer shakes his head in one, fast motion, rapidly switching to nodding when he realizes that could be misread as a no to your question. it makes him dizzy but wakes him up just enough to dig himself out of dreams. when he opened the door, there was a moment where his heart thudded in his chest, sure you were coming here to climb in his bed for other reasons.

not that you ever had before or that he thought you were the type to, of course not that—never that. it was just that his mind was stuck in a molasses of sleep that so frequently rewarded him of dreams where scenarios like that happen. or, even better, dreams where you two simply sit next to each other, your stocking-ed leg pressed against his pants, knocking together, hands intertwined, a warm glow emanating from somewhere for you to read to him by.

those dreams were the worst, just real enough that he could feel the love emanating from your breath, know that you want him close too, only to be yanked away with the spasms of beeps from his phone serving as his alarm.

“yes, of course you can stay here,” spencer finally says after his tragedy of a nod, moving past you and into the bed area of the room to yank the pillow he was using from the bed, “but you take the bed, i can take the chair.”

“no, spence, it’s like 3 in the morning and you’ll get a headache. i intruded on you, i’ll take the chair.”

spencer is shaking his head no before you finish, turning to stare at you. subconsciously, you mimic how he holds his pillow under his left arm and spencer makes a note to research if it’s actually true that attraction causes people to mimic each other.

and, fuck, this is why he had to put distance between you two because his brain can’t just be normal about things. you’re an affectionate person, spilling over with hugs and hands on arms and kisses on cheeks and he can’t help but analyze everything for a sign that it might be more.

“no, really, i’ll take the chair.”

you laugh at him, shaking your head and making your way closer. “let’s just share,” you suggest, tossing your pillow onto the side of the bed not made messy by spencer and rubbing your eyes with two closed fists, digging in deep. “i’m exhausted and we have to get back to it tomorrow. i’m not winning this fight and i can’t have my best brainiac impeded by a headache tomorrow.”

“no, it’s really—“

“spencer.” your eyes are earnest when you look at him, wide and tired and so so hypnotic. he can’t say no, not when you’re blinking up at him, only lit by the obnoxious street lights filtering in through the cheap hotel curtains, in your pajamas, taking in a tired, tiny voice.

“yeah, okay,” he says, forfeiting the back and forth and allowing himself to give in, just for tonight.

you yawn in response, hand coming up to cover your triumphant smile. you look exhausted, climbing into bed and shoving your feet under the sheets with much more aggression than necessary.

spencer climbs in after you, stretching his legs out and flexing his arm so his shoulder pops with a loud click. it’s a testament to how close you are to sleep that you don’t wince and tell him he shouldn’t do that—you always get onto him for it.

“hey,” spencer says after a moment, mind slowing but still moving fast enough to keep him on the cusp of sleep.

you makes a small sound, high pitched, as you roll over and press your forehead to his bicep. “what?” you say, voice half asleep, half complaint.

“is that my academy sweater? i’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“mm,” you hum, head moving up and down against his arm. “you left it at my place. i like wearing it—miss you less when i do.” your voice is trailing off, spencer’s heart is pounding, and he nearly misses the soft sigh you let out before tacking on, “makes m’feel like yours.”

it could mean a million different things, spencer tells himself as he listens to your breath deepen and slow, but he lets himself imagine it means exactly what he wants it to as his eyes settle closed.

[muwapsturniolo]

I was all over her ⋆.˚ M. Sturniolo

"N-no...No girls or guys...I don't uhh - girls don't really look at me."

⟢No smut, loner!Matt, tiny bit of asshole!Matt as well as angst. Deep convos and vaping, that’s it me thinks

@adornedwithlight for divider!

Pursuit of Happiness

That was the song currently blasting throughout the house of a random person Matt didn’t know.

He had been dragged here by his brother Chris, the younger boy claiming that a girl he was talking to asked him to come and bring people. Matt didn’t know why Chris brought him out of all people—he wasn’t the party type, nor was he a good wingman.

He tried to enjoy the party, he really did, but this wasn’t his style.

The loud music, bodies bumping into each other like sardines in a can, the excessive drinking—he preferred more chill, laid-back settings.

Hence, why he escaped to the bathroom filled with balloons and laid in the tub.

It was a weird hiding spot, but it brought him comfort. Chris didn’t even notice he had disappeared. No one did. He liked to think it was his own superpower.

He let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes, humming along with Cudi as the balloons lay on top of him like a blanket.

Suddenly, the music got louder for a split second, the door opening and closing as a voice was heard.

“Pee, I have to pee so bad. No more drinks for me, unless it’s an Angry Orchard. I fucking love app—it’s occupied.”

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin, wincing softly as her side hit the corner of the counter.

The two stared at each other, one with wide eyes and the other in annoyance.

“Can you get out?” Matt asked right away. He didn’t mean to be harsh, but he wanted to be alone and not with some random girl.

“Bro, I really have to pee. I damn near made a puddle on the couch. I promise I’ll be quick!” For extra flair and a way to convince him, she clenched her legs together and did the ‘pee dance.’

“Is she being serious?” Matt thought to himself. He let out a huff of frustration and lazily motioned toward the toilet, looking back down at his lap covered in balloons to give her some privacy.

After a few seconds, he noticed the silence in the small space. He side-eyed her and saw her sitting on the porcelain throne with a sheepish look.

“Are you going to pee or…?”

“Sorry... I’m pee shy.”

He groaned loudly and ran his hands down his face in frustration. “Just close the curtain! It’ll help me pretend you aren’t here!”

The boy in the tub yanked the curtain with force, the sound of tinkling immediately being heard. He tried to ignore the sound, thinking about everything else besides this moment.

As he got lost in his head, he missed the sound of toilet paper, the flushing, and the washing of hands.

She went to leave the bathroom, her hand just a centimeter away from the knob, when suddenly, she thought about something.

Matt’s eyes flashed open when the curtain was yanked back, the girl standing tall over him.

“Do you have a vape?”

He sighed as he reached into his pocket for the small device, handing it to her and mumbling to himself. He could have told her no and to get out, but he figured letting a stranger hit his vape for a few seconds wouldn't cause any harm.

Except it wasn't just a few seconds.

The girl smiled and settled down on the floor next to him, hitting the fruity-flavored air and blowing it out.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before she finally spoke, “What are you doing in here away?”

She handed him back the vape, watching as he took his own hit before exhaling.

“Don’t like parties…”

“So why are you here then? And what’s your name?”

For some odd reason, Matt couldn’t answer her question or at least the first half of it. He decided to avoid it altogether, deflecting by asking her the same question.

“What’s your name?”

She smiled at him, her body leaning more against the tub.

“Trouble.”

He raised a brow at the name. He could tell it wasn’t her real name, but in an odd way, it fit her perfectly.

“So, are you going to tell me your name now? Or am I going to have to play hangman to figure it out?” He found himself chuckling softly at her question, the idea of teasing her and having her guess being too good to pass up.

“Guess.”

“I’m just going to call you Blue.”

His brows furrowed at the name. Why would she call him that?

“Blue?”

She shrugged as she plucked the vape from his hands once again. “Yup, Blue. Blue eyes, you’ve got a blue balloon on your lap... plus you give off blue vibes.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by ‘blue vibes,’ but he took it as a compliment. He takes the time to examine her, processing her choice of clothing and how she looks.

She had on an oversized sweater that was a bit random, between the blue skulls with eyes and the two bands 'Nirvana' and 'Smashing Pumpkins' on it, he didn't know if he liked it or hated it. She paired the oversized sweater with a pair of ripped fishnets and a pair of beaten-up platform Converse on her feet.

Her hair was slicked up into two balls of curls, a few stray pieces hanging down and framing her face.

She didn't look like all the girls attending the party. He didn't mean it in a degrading way, he meant that she was different - in a good way.

"So why don't you like parties?" She asks the question once again, hoping to get a different answer. He already stated he doesn't like parties, and she understood that, but she wanted to know the reason.

Matt shrugs, leaning his back against the wall and propping his legs up in the tub. "Don't know really... I think I like parties but not ones like this. It's too packed, too loud and hot. The music is ok, but I don't even know whose house or party this is."

"Bonnie."

He turns and looks at her with a questioning brow, hoping she will elaborate. "Bonnie, it's her birthday party. I know her, but not that well. Honestly, she's kind of a bitch, but she's friends with my best friend, so I got dragged along. Not complaining though, Bonnie has some good alcohol and-"

Matt watches her as she rambles. He usually hated when people talked too much for no reason, especially when he didn't want to talk. But for some reason, he found her rambles enjoyable. Maybe it was because she was odd herself, maybe it was because she acknowledged his existence and actually sat to talk to him.

"My brother, Chris, dragged me here because he likes some girl and she invited him. He didn't want to come alone, so I was dragged out of bed, and now here I am."

"Who's the girl?"

Matt shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, adjusting his body so he is actually facing the girl on the other side of the tub. "I don't know. if I'm being honest, I really don't care. Chris finds a new girl what seems like every other day, I'm done trying to keep up."

The girl known as Trouble hums in acknowledgment, resting her arms on the rim of the porcelain tub.

"Well, what about you?"

"Well, what about me?"

"Any girl in your life? Maybe guys? I'm not one to judge."

Matt could feel his face getting warm, his eyes darting down at the balloon-filled tub. "N-no...No girls or guys...I don't uhh - girls don't really look at me."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck before resting his head on the edge of the tub, the girl following suit. "I don't know...I think I'm invisible to most people, like they see me, but they don't see me, you know? usually, I enjoy that, not being seen and being able to be alone and with myself, but sometimes it's a curse. You get lonely, but you get used to it... Then when they do see me, it's like I don't match the version of me in their head, I somehow fuck up, so once again, m'left alone."

Silence settles over them for a moment, Matt realizing he rambled and expressed too much, it wasn't something he was used to doing.

" I see you...."

Her soft words cause Matt to turn and look at her, his expression one of nirvana.

Truth be told, these two strangers didn't know each other, they just met and yet, a mutual understanding is had, a connection is being formed - a deep connection.

It seems like time grows slower, the world moving in slow motion as their faces inch closer. The muffled music and voices from the outside created an odd sense of tranquility in the dimly lit bathroom.

There was no urgency in the moment, the two strangers that seemed to be growing closer at an accelerated pace, teetering on the edge as their lips ghosted each other, their breath fanning over the other's face.

Just before their lips could meet, the bathroom door swung open, a guy standing at the entrance. He misses the way trouble and blue jerk away from each other, their eyes wide and hearts beating wildly.

"There you are! I've been looking for you forever. Party is almost over, let's go."

Matt watches with longing as the girl stands up, giving him one last glance as she leaves with the other boy.

After a few seconds, he stands up quietly, the balloons in the tub flying up and spilling over. He moves towards the sink, gripping the counter as he stares at the reflection in the mirror.

He couldn't help but feel a dull ache in his chest, the loneliness settling in once more.

Who was that stranger that came to get her? Was that her boyfriend? If so, why did they almost kiss if she was taken?

Why doesn't he feel bad about the potential kiss?

He sighs and rubs over his face.

They didn't makeout, yet he was all over her.

[kawhh]

I LOVE YOUR DARK QUINN STUFF OMG!!! Do you think he would ever switch out reader’s birth control pills with fake ones without her ever knowing???

Warnings: drugging? more just swapping meds, Quinn's pretending he's a doctor apparently, plans to get you knocked up

He'd have it so well planned out, it definitely wouldn't be some half-assed decision and attempt by him.

He wouldn't be sure what the best plan would be for a while. He doesn't want to harm you, but he can't just replace them with sugar pills either.

He knows you have side effects from the birth control pills, knows you feel nauseous from them. You'd be suspicious if it suddenly stopped even though you were still taking them.

He doesn't want anything bad going in your body, doesn't want to cause you any real problems. He won't ever risk your health, even if he feels compelled to do this for you both. He needs to be thorough with his research. Scrolling through forums, trying to ask medical staff non-suspicious questions.

Slowly building up his knowledge, triple checking every scrap of information. He's not stupid - he's not going to blindly believe information, won't risk your health on one singular opinion.

He'd start mixing up the pills. Slowly introducing them into your system. He knows you lay them out in a pill box so you don't forget to take them, which makes it even easier for him.

He'd change just one a week at first, monitoring you, asking more questions about how your symptoms and how you're feeling. Slowly upping the swap until you're fully on them.

Your routine would stay the same for a while. He'd need time to make sure there really aren't any changes, would need to make sure you aren't suspicious.

He's rougher with you, his thrusts more savage. An intensity in his eyes you don't understand. You don't know he's counting down in his head, lost in the fantasy of getting you pregnant. How he's practicing every single day with you to make sure he can give you both what you need.

[twstfanblog]

Heyyyyy so uhhhhh…

What if the mc back in their world was a slave? Not servant like jamil, just, straight up slave where their opinion didn’t matter :( n they r female, afab, pronounce she/they? Hopefully nothing bad happened but people who get slaves r bad people so :((( overblot boys pls 🙏🥺

I feel like they would all threaten crowley to absolutely NOT look for a way to send mc home n to stop making her do his things cause that reminds her of back home in a very bad way :(

N then they comfort n hold the mc cause they r safe n wont have to be treated like shit anymore :(

They will punch anyone who treats em like shit

Which practically everyone in school did when they arrived at NRC, and they just thought ‘this is normal’. :(

Overblot Boys React to Slave Reader

Overblot Boys x Reader

Riddle

Lowkey saw you as an ideal student. Polite, respectful, and mindful of the rules. So he wouldn't notice anything past a few odd ticks that he himself wouldn't fully question since his own upbringing was shitty.

It takes him and Ace having an argument, Riddle brings up that Ace can learn a thing or two from you on being a respectful student. And Ace fires back on you being a SLAVE. Of course, his overbearing ass would love that. And Riddle has to really think about what kinda person that makes him that he didn't even notice.

He talks to you, wanting personal confirmation on what Ace had blurted out. Once he gets the confirmation, his attitude gets much softer. You don't get as harsh treatment for rule-breaking, but he's still stern about them.

End game, he makes up a secondary set of rules for you only. Rules like 'We say something if we are uncomfortable' or 'We are allowed to say No'. He just gets much softer but remains true on rules being important. He just also stresses that you should have your own personal rules now.

Leona

Clocked immediately you came from a background of servitude, though he wasn't aware how severe it was.

He didn't plan on getting invovled but his little bleeding heart took Ruggie under his wing for a reason. It was one part pity and mostly annoyance seeing you getting bullied by his dorm everyday.

You basically get 'Leona's Servant' boot camp with Ruggie suddenly. He teaches you how Leona likes his laundry tended to and what snack flavors he prefers. It's a smooth transition from slave to servant until Ruggie tells you it's free game to steal from Leona.

Leona never brings it up, but he knows your old home was not a good environment. He also knows he can't just fling you into a healthier dynamic with those around you, so he'll do it slowly and sneakily. Ruggie is the perfect one to bridge the gap for him to start spoiling you.

Azul

Knew something was off but had no real frame of reference. He would make little theories and try to figure out why you act the way you do. He only started thinking you had come from a background of servitude when you follow orders so quickly.

Honestly doesn't know how to feel because he did do slavery in tricking the contracted students into working at the lounge against their will. He's not entirely sure how to save face with you after he's come across as a cruel and unfair slaver. Lowkey uses his overblot aftermath as an excuse for a fresh start with you.

He starts treating you kinder, making sure to address you properly and showing that he respects you. People from his dorm follow his lead, at least. The Tweels are part-time bodyguards, making your old bullies more hesitant to start anything because an eel might slip out of a crack or something.

Azul is a sneaky one too, slowly helping you raise your standard of how you should be treated by others. If you get him blabbing long enough, he'll slip into just stating how precious you are to him.

Jamil

I'm sorry, even with the English sanitation, Jamil’s situation can only come across as slavery to me. He's a very well cared for slave because Kalim adores him, but a slave none the less.

It's a little jarring to him to see someone who really could understand. But he's so used to keeping himself guarded he never reached out in a friendly sense. Treating you more like a new coworker; helpful but distant. It wasn't until you accidently broke something in Scarabia and nearly had a panic attack when Kalim looked at you does he realize how severe punishment was back in your world.

Gets much softer to you. It's sad because he does love and care about you, but he would not allow you to be with him long term. You've managed to come to a new world where your old masters can't reach you, you're free. Don't waste it following him back into a life of servitude.

Jamil would understand you the best so he'd be the one to really push and guide you to trying new experiences with your freedom. Wants you to be selfish and use your friends' kindness to make your life better. If he never gets his dream of being able to travel the world he wants you to be able to.

(Should the miracle happen and he and Kalim have the conversation finally, Jamil would go globe trotting with you. He legit has thoughts of just not going back and disappearing with you.)

Vil

I don't think he'd mean anything malicious by it. But he would end up treating you like a purse dog for a while.

Vil has a strong and cemented personality and sense of worth. Dealing with someone as passive as an abused slave, he would easily bulldoze over them and not really notice. Because he'd basically have you on the 'Betterment Plan' he has Epel.

He saw the potential and just kept going because you never said stop. Lots of beauty routines, he picks outfits for you for outings, basically has you as his shadow before either Rook or Epel bring up how he's running you ragged.

Vil never dealt with someone who's come from the situation you did. The very idea that 'No' wasn't a boundary you were ever allowed horrified him for a bit. But like the queen he is, he doesn't try to defend his misstep and goes right into correcting his behavior. The introduction of choices was the best start, but you slowly start saying no to events and choices and Vil couldn't be more delighted.

Idia

Lowkey, I'm not sure if he'd notice in any capacity until you told him point-blank. Idia is the one of the boys who sticks mostly to himself and he'd avoid you if he saw you constantly being hounded by other students.

But, if you managed to get close enough to him, he'd question why you always freeze up when your bullies call you? Why running isn't an option you take? And then you'd tell him about where you came from and how running never ended well for you or the other slaves...

He's not one I think would actively try to curb your behaviors but it would effect his own. Now when he sees you being bullied there's a high chance he'll use what power he has a housewarden to get them to leave. When he's sneaking around, he'll catch your eye and give the mental offer to come hide out in his room with him. He becomes a legit safe space for you to just breath since no one but Ortho really enters his room.

He's had to stop you multiple times from cleaning his room. Yes, it's a mess. No, you don't have to thank him by cleaning. Yes, he's aware you can also keep his stuff organized for him while you clean. You don't have to clean, you aren't his maid. (He is terrified he will ruin your friendship the second you find anything embarrassing under his piles of junk. Like a body pillow, or a 18+ comic, or a stray love note he wrote you-)

Malleus

Adorable you think the bonds of slavery from an unknown world matter to him. Malleus is...a prince, a crown prince at that. I don't think he has 'slaves' but with servants of royalty, I'm never really sure. But anyhow, this boy hasn't been told no enough in his life and it shows.

So when you try to back away from the friendship a bit under the fact of you being a slave and not...worthy of his princely company. He just decides you aren't a slave anymore. Just wills and speaks it into existence. There, it's fixed. You can continue being his beloved child of man, now come. He has a new gargoyle he wants to show you.

Fae to me have favorites, and they love to keep an eye on them. So god help some poor schmuck who tries to bully you into doing their work after Malleus has decided you don't do that anymore... You start saying No and leaving the situation with much more effectiveness because the other choice is Malleus making some poor student drop out for fear of their life.

Malleus canonically ignores the autonomy of others for his own gain. So it would be a really weird balance of him simply stating that you are your own being capable of choice and that your old-world status as a slave doesn't matter here. But with that new free status, you are also his best friend, who will come on night walks with him, talk with him, and make friendship bracelets.

[vmlnrzmp4]

itoshi sae — how broken swings bring us back together.

the two swings which would function properly at the playground were now down to one.

sae met you by the swing. all little and innocent sitting there, unable to sway by yourself, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, when he and his little brother approach.

two little boys walked to you, the older one holding a football in his one arm, the other one holding his shy younger brother's hand.

sae's expressions stay mature as he asks you to move as his younger brother wishes to swing. understanding the situation, you smiled warmly and got down from the swing, stepping aside to let the younger boy take your place.

you looked at the football curiously, making sae smirk as he says that he's going to be the best stricker in the world.

"and me after niichan!" the younger boy chimed.

"rin," sae calls sternly, "don't butt in when elders are talking."

"rin," you parrot his name, "y/n," you introduce yourself, "and...?" you looked at sae with curious doe eyes, making a tint of pink appear on his face as he looks away.

"and sae."

years pass like the wind. one day, you're young and curious. the other, you are a beautiful 11 year old, receiving many chocolates at valentines day, all from one boy who sadly didn't happen to be sae.

the boy proposed you on the spot. right there in the school hallway, catching you off guard. but you politely told the boy you needed two days to think it over, but he remained persistent.

that's when sae intervened, with a firm tone, he told the boy to stop being so pushy and that you had already said no. the boy corrected sae, saying that you hadn’t officially rejected him yet. and that you had yet to figure it out in two days.

grumbling, sae took your hand and walked you away with him.

the two of you found yourselves back at the park. you were sitting on the swing, and sae stood behind you, giving you gentle pushes that made you sway back and forth.

sae broke the silence, asking if you were really going to say yes to the boy who had proposed to you. you replied that you might, since he had given you so many chocolates.

sae’s stopped pushing, bringing the swing to a halt. you turned to him, asking him what's wrong.

“don’t go out with him,” he says.

“why not?”

sae simply replied that even he could buy you chocolates if you wanted.

“so please, let me be your boyfriend.”

time passed. you and sae were now 13. and as sad as the moment was of sae's departure, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, catching you off guard. it was the most intimate he has been after holding hands. and sae too, had a blush on his face with a boyish smile as he waves everyone who accompanied him goodbye.

it was a new chapter in both of your lives.

and oh how it ended...

years later, the two of you found yourselves facing each other, standing a few feet apart. the cold wind blew as it started snowing.

“we should stop seeing each other,” sae said nonchalantly yet firmly.

and you simply smiled, understanding his words. rin had already called you and told you about what had happened, so you didn’t question sae. you bid each other a goodbye, accepting and thinking that this really is the end.

but when now both you and sae were 25, you found yourself by the swings again at night, sitting on it just as you had done years before. but both broken this time. and there he stood in front of you, his expressions the same as when he had left. but it hinted something softer.

"hey," after a long time, it was him who broke the silence first.

"hey," you parrot, your voice almost a whisper.

an awkward pause follows, and sae scratches the back of his neck.

you shake your head, a small smile on your lips, "how have you been?"

sae looks at you, offering a nod, "i'm good...how about you?"

"i'm good too," you say, your smile widening despite what lingered beneath.

"stop it," sae says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

"stop...what?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"stop smiling. i know it's not a real one," he says, frustrated.

you look down for a moment. and when you look back up, his heart breaks. your once curious innocent eyes were now teary. all because of him, "do you want me to cry then?"

"yes. cry. be sad," sae says, stepping closer. he gently cups your face with one hand, brushing away the tear with his thumb.

you place your hand over sae's, "why?" you ask softly. why. why did it had to be this way?

sae's leans closer to you, "i don't know." he wraps his arms around you, "forgive me," whispers an apology.

you rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat that spoke sincerity, hinting his words to be genuine.

the warmth of his hug and the softness of his voice spoke enough as you nod, and you could only whisper back, "i forgive you."

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

[rainydayathogwarts]

Never ending song - Sirius Black

summary: rockstar!reader - when your parents divorce, you decide to move to london to finish your last year of school, and take your music career there with you. what happens when you meet another pureblood rebel named sirius black. wc: 7.3k+ a/n: funnily enough this whole concept was inspired by The Ballad of the Witches Road from agatha all along being a protection spell.

WITCHES WEEKLY

In a twisting turn of events, rockstar y/n l/n ditches her parents amongst their divorce to move to London with her aunt.

A new light has been shed on rockstar y/n l/n since the beginning of her parents’ divorce. The singer songwriter, famously known for her most recent album “Heart of Chaos” was seen in court this week, finally showing her vulnerable side to the public, contrary to the heartthrob persona she usually puts on.

Her parents, two world renowned aurors have reportedly called it quits after more than twenty years together, and this week in another court hearing, a shocking event took place. When young adult y/n was asked by the court which of her guardians she would like to live with, the two parents broke out into an argument, causing the rockstar to have an astounding outburst. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to live with either of you — I mean just look at you. One of you has a drinking problem so bad you shouldn’t be allowed to work and the other works so much and is so controlling and insensitive that living alone would be better than living with you!” The unfolding truth about her father’s drinking problem has opened a new case which could potentially cost him his license as an auror.

L/n’s aunt, her godmother, lives in a remote area in London, and owns a very successful boutique in Diagon Alley, one of the most popular magical villages in the UK. The guardian was brought into court this Friday, and the judge confirmed that y/n would be living with her aunt until she becomes a legal adult, in which case the choice of her living situation will be up to her.

This means that for her last year of school, the popular singer-songwriter will be quitting her studies at the Ilvermorny Institute of Magic to begin a new journey after the Christmas holidays at the hight ranked school of magic in the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The real question is: what will this mean for her musical career? Will she change record labels, or go independent?

Sirius’s jaw went slack, the tea he had previously sipped dribbling out of his open mouth and onto the newspaper in front of him. He frantically wiped away at the liquid, muttering a “No way” under his breath. “Padfoot that was absolutely disgusting” Remus commented, throwing a napkin at Sirius’s face. James laughed, rearranging the glasses balancing on his nose, but Sirius quickly interrupted him. “No, no, look at this!” He exclaimed, shoving the paper into James’s unprepared hands. Lily and Remus, sat on either side of the quidditch player, leaned closer to James, reading the paper over each shoulder.

“Oh hey, isn’t she the girl whose music you’re obsessed with?” Lily pointed out, finger resting on the moving image of you in court, shaking your head disappointedly at your parents. Sirius nodded frantically, snatching the paper back from his friends. “The popular singer-songwriter will be quitting her studies at the Ilvermorny Institute of Magic to begin a new journey after the Christmas holidays at the highest ranked school of magic in the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Sirius read out, a look of excitement on his face. “This is great!”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

“This is terrible.” You muttered two weeks later, arranging the tie adorning your neck. “I feel like I should have thought things out a little more before deciding to move halfway through my last year of school, right?” Your aunt laughed, shaking her head from where she sat on your bed across from you. “Hogwarts is great, and I’m sure you’ll be a lot happier here than you were before.” You got off your bed, kneeling down to finally close your suitcase. “I hope so. I just wish they have something about spells in song. It’s my favourite thing to learn about.” Your aunt hummed, helping you up from the floor and rearranging the tie on your chest. “Well, the student can always become the teacher.” She mumbled with a smile. “Now don’t forget your jumper, you’re on the brink of missing your train.” You jumped up, grabbing said jumper alongside your suitcase and guitar case, ready to apparate to the station.

The station, bustling with magical activity, screamed of students excited to return to Hogwarts, with magical firecrackers flying across the platform and chocolate frogs escaping their packaging. Parents cuddled up nostalgically, remembering the first time they’d dropped their children off here.

Platform 9 ¾.

You sighed, turning towards your godmother for the last time before you’d leave her until the summer. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. Shutting your eyes tightly to savour the quick moment with her, you were interrupted by a bright flashing light in your direction. All too familiar to the feeling, your eyes snapped open, exposing the reporter and her cameraman in front of you. You glared at the pair of them, letting go of your aunt’s hug to flash her one last smile and a loving “Bye bye” before rushing onto the train, where you know the journalist wouldn’t dare follow you.

"Rockstar y/n l/n shares tearful goodbyes with her godmother before hopping on the Hogwarts Express to mark the beginning of her witchcraft journey in the UK. Will she receive the same praise in the land of the Brits as in the United States, or will her career fall short? It’s difficult to tell if the new audience will boost her sales due to its new exposure to her music, or if the teenagers of the UK will find l/n unrelatable. Only time will tell…"

The whistle of the train had you jolting awake in your seat, looking around the empty compartment to make sense of your surroundings. Sighing, you blinked the fatigue away, observing the figures crowding the hallway of the train. You followed the pack’s movements, gathering your suitcase just in time for the train to come to a halt, wheels screeching on the tracks as it settled on the platform, the door to the compartment slamming open. “Newbie, I’m guessing?” You spun on your heels, eyeing the boy in front of you wearing green robes. “What gave it away?” He chuckled, nodding towards your suitcase. “Leave your stuff on the train.” You eyed him wearily, gaze wandering down the hallway to see if he was trying to fool you. Alas, none of the other students carried their luggage with them. Cautiously, you lifted your suitcase onto the seats next to you, deciding to trust the stranger.

The boy stuck his hand out in front of him, a strand of blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. “Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.” You shook his hand with a thankful smile, introducing yourself to the pureblood. It didn’t take long for you to notice the newspaper Malfoy carried under his armpit, making the carriage ride up to the castle uncomfortable, realisation of his previous knowledge of you dawning on you. At the glimpse of your smiling face in the paper, you wondered how they represented you today.

Were you the snobby pureblooded princess who threw away everything her parents did for her, or the poor, vulnerable teenager whose parents abandoned in the midst of their hatred for the other?

The castle was impressive, more so than Ilvermorny had been, you noted as you stepped foot in the entrance hall. You weren’t surprised that Malfoy immediately left your side, catching a snippet of the remark he made to his friend who met him in the hall, beginning with “Mate, you’ll never guess who…” Instead, you allowed yourself to be whisked away by a tall, intimidating woman who suddenly appeared in front of you, summoning you with an ominous call of your name. You followed the nameless woman down the halls of Hogwarts until you stopped in front of two open double doors, tall enough to reach the high ceilings of the castle. The Great Hall was full of students, some of which were still taking their seats at their designated tables. You felt as though every single pair of eyes in the hall turned to look at you as you stood in the entryway. The view was somewhat more intimidating than your largest selling concert, despite the decrease in number of people.

Gulping, you let your gaze wander to the man sat at the centre of the teacher’s table, returning his steady stare. Albus Dumbledore. You’d read books about him; his problematic backstory and the people’s tendencies to forgive and forget. Here he stood now, in charge of the next generation of wizards. You watched as he stood up, booming voice echoing in the hall as he gathered the students’ attention.

From the Gryffindor table, Sirius elbowed James, innocently sat next to him, desperately waiting for dinner after a rigorous snow fight with the other marauders. James hissed, turning towards Sirius, who redirected his gaze towards the doors of the Great Hall, where you stood.

“Mate she looks scary.” James muttered, eyes glued to your fixated glare, your overconfident posture, your perfectly manicured nails. “Yeah.” Sirius sighed in amazement.

Ironically enough, your composure communicated the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You had to consciously keep the muscles in your legs flexed otherwise you were sure they’d be seen shaking from the other end of the hall. You kept your hands flat against the sides of your thighs to ensure you didn’t nervously fiddle with anything, only moving your hand to flick your hair over your shoulder because it was itching the side of your neck uncomfortably. “Oh she thinks she’s so much better than us.” Sirius heard a girl mumble further down the table, watching as your beautiful hair was swept behind your shoulder.

“Students of Hogwarts!” Dumbledore began, silencing everyone in the hall. “Welcome back! I hope you’ve had a wonderful winter holiday. As I’m sure many of you have heard, we are starting the new year with a new student to join our community of witches and wizards. To welcome her, she needs to go through the rite of passage that every student here at Hogwarts has gone through. Miss L/N, would you please step up to be sorted into your Hogwarts house?”

“You’re joking.”

The hall erupted in laughter at your comment, which had come out much louder than you’d intended, and Sirius heard the girl who’d previously made a comment on you now say “Never mind, she’s so right about that.” Your head snapped to the tall Professor next to you, eyes desperately looking for her to tell you that Dumbledore was, in fact, just joking. However, she only smiled sympathetically at you, putting a hand on your shoulder to softly nudge you down the hall. In an attempt to ignore the eyes following each step you took, you observed the different tables around you. Blue, red, green and yellow. God, you didn’t care where you were put as long as it wasn’t the yellow one. That colour didn’t go with any of your clothes.

Your heels echoed on the stairs, and you almost rolled your eyes at the sight of the stool placed in the centre of the platform. It was too cliché. You sat down, folding one leg over the other before the same old Professor approached you, this time carrying an old, filthy hat. You returned your gaze to the rest of the hall, watching each pair of eyes scan your body before your vision was stolen, and you welcomed the darkness. The sorting hat was heavy on your head, and a few sizes too big, you realised, feeling the tickle of the hat’s rim against your nose.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, I know just where you should go.” What the fuck? “Oh give me a break, I’m just trying to make this a little fun.” Fun? The hat’s raspy voice echoed in your mind, and you almost fell into a trance as it scanned through all your memories. Like a movie, a certain memory displayed itself in your brain, your very own voice echoing in your head. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to live with either of you!” “Mhm, confrontational, rebellious.” The hat murmured in your mind before ultimately yelling out:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius was the first one on his feet, cheering you on as you made your way down the steps and towards the table. He tried hiding his disappointment when you were whisked away by a group of girls in his year group towards the front of the table, greeting you with welcoming smiles. Halfway through dinner, Lily had to scold him for how often he glanced your way.

On the way back to the common room, Sirius sped up, trying to catch up with you while dragging James and Remus with him by the wrists. The crowded hallways were the cause of Sirius's lack of success, and he huffed loudly when he couldn’t manage to slip past someone, the gap between you and him increasing as people pushed past him. When he finally made his way through the Fat Lady’s portrait, he grinned widely, eyes scanning the cozy common room, only for the smile to fall from his face when he couldn’t spot you in any of the seventh year students’ usual spots.

He was too late; you’d already been whisked away to your dorm.

It was only a week later that he’d managed to finally speak to you, despite sharing most classes with you. Mary and Marlene had clearly become close to you, and you’d even gotten to meet Lily, but Sirius? Well, you had no idea who he was.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Sirius, Remus and James were late to class. They had been doing so well with being on time and avoiding useless detentions, a resolution they had made together for the new year. They rounded the corner of the hallway, panting loudly as they ran, trying to catch the stairs before they shifted again, which would inevitably make them even later.

You sat on the stairs with a bored expression, leaning your chin on your hand, your bag on the floor next to you. You had gotten here a few minutes ago, and just like the three marauders, had missed the stairs. Loud groans pulled you out of your train of thoughts, looking up to see where the voice had come from to find three boys your age — the marauders. They were all panting: Remus had his hands on his hips, head thrown back to catch his breath, and James had crouched down, leaning his head on the stair’s railing. “You alright?” The mysterious boy caught your attention. He stood nearly directly behind you and had long curly hair and a sweet smile, though his eyebrows were pulled together in concern at the sight of you sat alone on the stairs. Just like his other two friends, his chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, cheeks slightly rosy. You nodded softly “Yeah, gave up trying to find my way to class ten minutes ago.” Sirius chuckled, moving to sit down next to you. You could hear his heavy breathing, but he still asked “What class do you have next?”

Sirius knew what class you had next.

You had transfigurations, same as him. But you hadn’t noticed that you shared the class with the boy, unlike him, who had internally cheered when you first walked into the transfigurations classroom. “Transfigurations. Marlene gave me a tour of this whole place like a week ago but I still can’t get my head wrapped around it.”

“You let Marlene give you a tour?” Remus’s voice suddenly sprung up, causing you to look at Sirius in confusion. He felt his heart surge as he realised you were looking at him to clarify. You had instantly chosen to trust him. “Was I not supposed to?” Sirius shrugged with a smile, “She’s just not the most… knowledgeable person of the castle. She still gets lost getting from the common room to the Great Hall sometimes.” Your laugh surprised him, and you reached a hand out to him, saying “I’m y/n, by the way.” Sirius’s grin widened impossibly as he shook your hand, introducing himself and the marauders behind him.

“Well, we’ll walk you to class. We’ve got McGonagall too.” You shook your head at Sirius’s offer, pushing yourself off the ground to stand up. “No way I’m going class 15 minutes late. I’m not waiting to be humiliated in front of a full class of people who probably already know who I am.”

“Fair enough.” Sirius stated, mimicking your movements. You shot him a look from the corner of your eye. “I take it you know who I am then?” Sirius’s cheeks darkened, but he didn’t let the exposure humiliate him. You’d think he was pathetic. He puffed his chest out confidently. “You could say I’m an avid enjoyer of your music. But that doesn’t make you any different to the next guy.” With the smile that blossomed on your face, someone would have thought that Sirius gave you the most flattering compliment. “Okay, good to know, Mr. Sirius.”

“Black.” He added, “Sirius Black.” Your eyes widened slightly at the name. Pureblood, you noted. One of the sacred 28. You both looked at each other with acknowledgment. He knew who you were, and you knew who he was. You took the silent moment to take in his features: striking silver jewellery on his fingers and around his neck, you spotted tattoos creeping up the collar of his uniform. A rebel. As his eyes bore into yours, you instantly knew there was a mutual understanding between you. And without another word, you were turning the corner to the next hallway and disappearing from Sirius’s sight until the evening came.

You lingered at the bottom of the stairwell to the girls’ dormitories, debating on making an approach or not. You liked Sirius. He obviously related to the parental pressure, and didn’t care too much about you no matter how much he liked your music. And he had style. Realistically, it was also about time to make friends other than your dorm-mates and their one friend. You imagined that no matter what happened, it wouldn’t be worse than your interaction with Malfoy. “Sorry.” You muttered, moving away from the staircase to let some girls make their way up to their dorms.

Feeling the girls look back at you, you mustered the courage you had to stroll across the common room towards where Sirius sat with his intimidating group of friends. The group turned their attention to you as you approached them, and you ignored the nerves building up in your gut, instead saying “Hey”, though it was mainly pointed towards Sirius. The boy was already making space for you to sit down next to him before you had the chance to ask. You were grateful when the others around you carried on with their conversations, turning towards Sirius. “Hey Sirius, do you know if there’s an extracurricular or something about spells in song?” The boy in front of you furrowed his eyebrows as though he had never heard of the concept before, and you knew that was a bad sign.

“You know, like when protection or love spells are, like, weaved into music?” Sirius straightened up in front of you, whisper yelling “What? Wait, do you do that with your songs?” You felt your face heat up and leaned back into the cushiony couch. “Kind of. I’m trying — learning.”

Unfortunately, Sirius had let you know that he hadn’t heard of such thing in the castle. In fact, he didn’t think that spells in song was a concept known between wizard and witches in the UK. That would be something you’d have to change. However, he was kind enough to lead you to the library, where he insisted on staying with you to find all your books on the subject so that you’d have someone to guide you back to the common room. It was so that you wouldn’t get lost again, obviously.

The library didn’t seem to have much on the topic, despite its grand size. You sighed, putting the books you’d found on the table in front of you. Your aunt seemed to stand correct, the student was becoming the teacher. Sirius sat patiently at the table, watching you ponder silently for a moment. You opened the first book, scanning its table of contents, before shutting it closed again. “This isn’t going to work.” You mumbled, putting both hands on your hips. You chose one of the textbooks at random, shoving it in your bag and gesturing for Sirius to follow you. You trotted out of the library, ignoring Sirius’s claim that you had to sign the book out. “I’m just borrowing it!” You exclaimed, taking the first flight of stairs up. Sirius had trouble catching up with you, and was quickly lured into a hallway he didn’t recognise. A hallway on the fifth floor.

“What are we doing up here?” He asked, breathing heavily. You ignored his question, instead whispering under your breath “Where is it?” Sirius matched your pace as you came to a slow walk, pacing in circles around the same pillar. “I swear it was here.” “What was here?” Sirius asked, watching you. But his question was quickly answered for him when a big wooden door appeared on the empty wall in front of you both. Matching gasps left your lips, and Sirius cautiously watched as you walked up to the door, placing a hand on its peeling paint. “The music room.” You mumbled, finally pushing the door open.

Sirius followed you through the wooden door, jumping slightly when it slammed close behind him. His breath had been taken away. The room was enormous. It had a stage with a grand piano and several percussion and string instruments littered around the room. There were even muggle microphones, which he knew you often used in concerts, contrary to the normal amplification spell.

In all seven years at Hogwarts, Sirius and the marauders had restlessly tried looking for this room: the room of Come and Go. They had read about it, doubting its existence after years of failure. And here you were, not even three weeks into your time at Hogwarts, and you had found it. “This isn’t a music room,” Sirius started, looking around. Your footsteps came to a halt, and you spun around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “This is the room of requirements. I never thought I'd live to see it.” Sirius returned his attention to you, a glint in his eyes like he was eleven, seeing Honeydukes for the first time. He’d have to take you there one day.

“It gives you a room you want the most. And you… You really want somewhere to play your music.” He guessed, eyes filled with empathy. You hummed. “Not just play. Write, compose. Sing too loud sometimes and embarrass myself.” Sirius laughed, and you joined in until a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You spun on your feet and ran towards the stage, putting your hands on the floor of the stage and jumping so you could roll onto the elevated surface. Sirius followed you, equal ecstasy in his movements. Sirius sighed, staying laid down on the ground.

You grinned down at Sirius, a microphone now in your hand, and asked “Do you play any instruments, Mr. Black?” Sirius’s cheeks bloomed with a bright blush, and he sat up straight, shyly muttered “I play the piano.” You laughed, nodding at his words “Okay, I see. Pureblood parents force you to play? Let me guess, you have a sibling and they play the violin.” Sirius scoffed, muttering “Shut up” as he stood up, though his bold smile didn’t budge.

“I have skills. I’ll show you.” You hummed, unconvinced, watching as Sirius sat down in front of the grand piano, fingers skillfully resting on the keys. His fingers danced across the keys, and despite the years it’s been since he’s touched the instrument, he didn’t make a single mistake, shutting his eyes as he let the music flow through his veins. Sirius opened his eyes to glance up at you, and when he spotted the mesmerised smile on your face, he felt his fingers press all the wrong keys, causing an unpleasant sound to fill the room. “Sorry!” You both cried out, and Sirius furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I distracted you, I didn’t mean to.” Sirius shook his head, gesturing a hand towards you. “It’s your turn now.”

You and Sirius spent all night in the room of requirements, playing music and trying to teach him how to play the guitar. He took a particular interest in the electric one, which you immediately thought suited him. He was more than just a piano player. Sirius was a rockstar, whether he knew it yet or not.

“So tell me about this spell in song thing.” Sirius brought up after a long break from music. You had just returned from the kitchens, thankfully not too far from this hidden room, and had only narrowly missed some Professor who was doing their rounds. “Well, from what I’ve learned, you can either make the music to a song a spell, so that when the instruments are played together, a spell is cast. Or it could be the lyrics that are the spell. The difference between that and a normal spell is that the lyrics are real words, but our spells that we cast as witches and wizards are mostly latin. Never the spoken language that we use. But then it gets complicated, because if someone wants to replicate the spell, everything has to be the same. Each note, each harmony. Otherwise, the spell risks being a curse.”

Sirius was silent. He didn’t even have any questions. “Have you heard of the Ballad of the Witches’ Road?” You asked, and the boy nodded “You recorded your own version of it.” You grinned, nodding eagerly. “Well, the song was written centuries ago — no one knows by who or where it was written, but it became crazy popular. The original song wasn’t a spell, but then each version of it that was created afterwards had its own different spell. The sacred chant version uses the chant itself as the spell, but in the version that is most popular now, the guitar solo is a protection spell. I don’t know how it works, I really don’t.” Sirius’s mouth was gaped open, a silent question lingering in the air, but you refused to answer it if he didn't explicitly ask you. “And in your version?”

You cleared your throat, looking down at the guitar in front of you. “In my version, my voice is a love spell. I played it to my parents in hopes that they would fall back in love. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Over the next couple of weeks, you’d decided that you’d asked Sirius to come up with you to your music room too often. You were being a burden. If he wanted to come with you, he could always ask. You’d grown fond of the boy, and even his friends, though you never asked to sit with them. At breakfast, Sirius would wave you over, and you’d happily sit next to him, smiling and nodding along to the conversation, only ever speaking if a question was directed towards you.

In lessons, you’d sit and write song lyrics in a note book you took with you everywhere, and Professors loved to target you with bombardments of questions. You’d shut your book, tilt your head to the side and flawlessly answer every question thrown at you. They hated it, but it made Sirius smile. He was lucky that while people admired you in the hallways, he could call out your name, jog up next to you and hold enjoyable conversations with you. He even ditched his friends to go to Hogsmeade with you. When he’d asked you to come with the group, you stared at your hands, declining his offer respectfully.

“How about just us, then?”

“Sirius, you don’t have to ditch your friends for me.”

“But you are my friend.”

It hadn’t been a very successful outing, despite you and Sirius having a wonderful time. He took you to Honeydukes and smiled at the amazed expression on your face when you gasped. You dragged him over to the music store and signed a record of your album a young girl was buying. But when you both finally decided it was time to cozy up with a butterbeer, arms linked together, you met unpleasant company at the door of the three broomsticks.

Years of experience allowed you to spot reporters and journalists from a mile away. You stopped in your tracks, pulling Sirius back by the arm you had hooked with yours. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He had asked, following your line of sight. “Sirius, those are-” But it was too late, because they had finally seen you. The lady immediately sped towards you with a list of questions she was ready to ask whilst the man next to her pulled out an expensive camera and immediately started taking photos, the flash blinding you each time it went off. Sirius instantly tried shielding you from the pair, his hand slipping into yours so you wouldn’t lose him. Sirius dragged you into the popular pub, and by magic, Madame Rosemerta appeared and locked the door before the reporters could enter.

Sirius had immediately asked you if you were okay, but his question was drowned out by laughs coming from the other side of the pub. It was the same blond boy who had met you on the train, with his insolent group of friends who were joking about the encounter. Well, now you knew exactly who had ratted you out to the reporters. “Here, sweetheart.” Had said Sirius as he offered you a fresh butterbeer, but your mood had already been spoiled, and all you wanted to do was return to the castle.

“Look, Sirius, you’re wonderful, and I’ve had so much fun but-” your consistent glances towards the door had given what you wanted to say away, and Sirius nodded again. “Hey, I’ll walk back with you, okay?” Thankfully, the reporters were already gone by the time you left the pub, and you dug around in your pocket to pay Sirius for the butterbeer. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He had said, rejecting your two silver sickles.

Once in the castle once more, you hid in your dorm for the rest of the day, dreading the headline that would be on the papers tomorrow. Maybe they would scare Sirius away and he’ll stop spending time with you. Fuck, that would be the worst thing to ever happen to you, you thought, digging your head into your pillow.

You were very aware of your blooming feelings towards the curly-headed boy. In fact, every time you sat alone, or even in a lesson, and picked up a pencil, the only song lyrics you could thing about writing were about him. He invaded your mind, and usually, you wouldn’t complain about having some inspiration, but now? Well, you liked him so much you wanted him to collaborate on your music with you, to sing and to play with you. But you couldn’t do that if every single song you wrote was about falling head over heels for him.

Downstairs in the common room, Sirius was clenching his fists over the incident with the reporter. He went on about how you’d had so much fun together, all for it to be ruined by a two-minute encounter. “That shouldn’t happen to anyone! Fuck, I swear I’ll beat Malfoy up.” He said to his friends, letting his head fall back on the couch. James looked at him empathetically, but after a moment of silence, he shot a look to the other marauder who sat across from them, an idea suddenly popping up in his mind. Remus was already holding a quill in hand, parchment laid out in front of him.

“Hey, instead of beating that blond bitch up, how about we do something worse?”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

THE DAILY PROPHET

Heart of Chaos? More like heart of romance!

The young rockstar y/n l/n was seen cozying up with pureblood rebel Sirius Black at Hogsmeade on Sunday. As seen in the image, the couple was very physically close to each other, making fans wonder what is going on behind closed doors. Though we only have limited information on the topic, an anonymous source at Hogwarts has revealed to us this piece of information:

“Sirius Black is the only person she’ll speak to. Everyone is so welcoming to her, but she either spends time alone writing things, or she spends time with him. He’s probably the inspiration for her new album. I mean, you know how it is, the girl’s last album was literally called ‘Heart of Chaos’! All she does is probably write about boys!”

Everyone’s eyes were on you on Monday during breakfast, watching as you read the article about your so called love life. The worst part of the article wasn’t the assumption that you and Sirius were together, or that you were having sex ‘behind closed doors’. No, it was the assumption that your last album had been about boys when it had truly been about broken trust and personal healing. Hence, the Heart of Chaos.

Sirius noticed you hadn’t had anything to eat for breakfast, so when he saw you abruptly stand up, he pocketed an apple to bring to you later. He just hoped that Malfoy came down for breakfast before you left.

And indeed, an unrecognisable Lucius Malfoy ran down to the Great Hall just as you turned to face the entrance. Loud gasps and laughter was heard instantly at the sight of the disheveled teenager. Lucius had been transformed into your number one fan. His face had been made up for him to resemble a rock fan. A big, glittery, red star was painted around his eye, the other one sporting bold eyeshadow and liner. He wore heavy lashes that he couldn't tear off, and the best bit? Every single piece of clothing in the boy’s closet had been turned into merchandise you recently launched to promote your tour beginning this summer. In a desperate attempt to appear anywhere near normal, Lucius had begged Evan to lend him clothes, but the second he pulled the uniform on, it had also been transfigured into more merch.

“What have you done to me!?” He screamed over the laughter, marching over to the Gryffindor table, his gaze fixed on the marauders. You took confident strides towards Lucius until you stood right in front of him, blocking his route towards the three boys. The hall went silent when you put your hands on your hips, everyone listening closely to what you had to say. “And for the record, Malfoy, my last album wasn’t about boys, which I thought you might know considering you have been so far up my ass recently, you could practically see what I had for dinner last night.” You walked away from Malfoy as he stood in the middle of the Great Hall, an embarrassed flush on his face.

“Don’t worry,” Announced Sirius, standing up and beginning to follow you. “It wears off after 72 hours… I think.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Sirius was only able to find you a few hours later in the room of requirements, separated by clashing schedules. Sirius pulled the apple out of his pocket, offering it to you when he finally reached you. “Didn’t see you eat this morning.” You jumped at the sound of Sirius’s voice, a wide smile on our face as you shut your book, pushing it aside and making space for Sirius next to you. When Sirius sat, he wasn’t expecting you to throw your arms around him, engulfing him in a tight hug. “Thank you.” You mumbled into the crook of his neck. “Hey, why should you be embarrassed for something he did? Also, I’ve got to say your comment was beautiful.” “What, about him seeing my dinner?” Sirius laughed as you let go of him, throwing an arm around you and tugging you in closer to him.

“So, it doesn’t change anything for you?” You whispered to him, afraid of his response. “Why would a little gossipy article change anything for me? Whatever this is, it doesn’t need a reporter to put labels on it. So, tell me what you’re working on.” “I- just a song.” Sirius heard the wobble in your voice, but decided not to ask about it, watching as you wiped at your eyes. “Um, a song I actually wanted you to sing.” Sirius made a sound of surprise in his throat. “Love, you know I don’t sing.” Your laugh surprised him. “Yes you do, you just don’t know it yet.”

Sirius watched as you jumped up from your place on the couch “This song is a little different to what I usually write and perform.” You told him, pulling out your wand and grabbing the sheets of music from the table. You muttered a spell, enchanting each instrument to play its own part before you finally grabbed your electric guitar and lyric sheet.

The second your fingers strummed the guitar, all the instruments came to life in a melody that Sirius instantly knew would change the world as you knew it. Then, you began singing the lyrics, your voice as light as an angel for a tune that didn’t match it.

“I wanted to be with you alone

And talk about the weather,”

And Sirius was instantly in love. Not that he hadn’t been before, no. Sirius had realised that meeting his heroes wasn’t always a bad thing since he sat down with you in the middle of a staircase. You’d looked at him with angel eyes, looking to him for comfort when speaking to his other friends. Sirius was lost in a trance as you observed him now as you sang, watching for each and every reaction. You cleared your throat nervously when you got to the chorus.

“Something happens and I'm head over heels

I never find out until I'm head over heels

Something happens and I'm head over heels

Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart

Don't, don't, don't throw it away”

Sirius’s mouth was agape. He pieced the song together, you figured. He stood up from his spot, walking over to you and putting his hands on your guitar. The second you stopped playing, the rest of the instruments died down too, putting an end to your never ending song. You let Sirius take your guitar from you, passing the thick strap over your head so he could put it to the side. “You want me to sing it?” Sirius whispered, his face mere inches away from yours. You nodded “Can only imagine it in your voice.”

“You know, it's fitting, because I really am head over heels for you.” You gasped at Sirius’s words, moving your gaze down to your feet but his hand was already at your chin, gently pushing your chin up so you could meet his eyes again. “I really wanted to kiss you in the great hall today.” You muttered, and Sirius grinned. “So did I. I love myself a woman who will stand up for herself.” “So you’ll sing the song?”

“How about you let me get that kiss first?” You felt your cheeks get hot as Sirius leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your hands immediately gripped his crinkled uniform shirt, pulling his chest flat against yours. He moved a hand to the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue in your mouth. You pressed yourself onto your tippy toes, but just as you wrapped your arms around Sirius’s shoulders, he broke the kiss, saying with a wide grin “How about you teach me this song, yeah?”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

WIZARDS WEEKLY

Y/N L/N has begun her ‘Heart of Chaos: World Tour’, and fans were not surprised to see who she brought on stage.

Rumours of the singer-songwriter’s romance with Sirius Black started when she first moved to England to live with her aunt. The couple were spotted in Scotland’s very own Hogsmeade village, near the Hogwarts castle. Those rumours started around February 1978, and it is now September. The rockstar’s first show of the year-long tour was last night on June 10th, and fans went absolutely crazy. To open her second set l/n brought Sirius Black, her rumoured boyfriend, on stage with her, and they sang their newest collaborative song ‘Head over Heels’.

In a recent interview, l/n shared that her tour would be the start of something big, and it seems as though ‘Head over Heels’ is the beginning of that. The singer said that whilst she wrote and produced the entire song and its music, she felt as though the song would be perfect for someone else — that someone whom we now know is Sirius Black. However, when the pair of wizards sang ‘Head over Heels’ together, a strange phenomenon occurred. It seemed as though people in the audience became calmer, and there was more than one instance of people kissing during the audience. Whilst this isn’t exactly odd during concerts, our reporters noticed that this only occurred during the one song, and nowhere else in the show.

Experts are theorising that y/n l/n isn’t only one of the most talented artists of this new generation, but one of the most powerful witches too, embedding spells in songs, for instance, a love spell in 'Head over Heels'. This is often seen in music in North America, however l/n is introducing it to the rest of the world for the first time.

Sirius Black stayed with her on stage for the rest of the show, singing background vocals and playing the electric guitar to create the most magical duet people have witnessed in a long time. At the end of the show, they confirmed the old rumours started by an anonymous source, sharing a passionate kiss on stage in front of thousands upon thousands of fans. l/n revealed what the tour was starting — or rather ending, during the final moments of her first show of the ‘Heart of Chaos: World Tour’.

This tour would be her last as a solo artist.

At the end of the tour, she will be joining a group called ‘Marauders of Mischief’, in which her boyfriend Sirius Black will be the lead guitarist. l/n and Black revealed to us that the other three members of the band would be Remus Lupin, James Potter and Marlene McKinnon, all of whom l/n met whilst she studied at Hogwarts for less than a year. When asked in an interview about how this band was formed, l/n opened up about a lot of details.

Y/N L/N: Truly, I didn’t speak to Remus, James or Marls much when I was at Hogwarts. But towards the end of the year, I opened up more, and when they discovered that Sirius and I were writing music together, they showed an interest. We spent a day in the music room together, and we instantly knew that we were forming a band. And James’s lovely fiancé, one of my best friends, Lily Evans is our manager, and you know, it’s the six of us against the world. I don’t want to spoil too much, but since I’ve become an independent artist, they’ve been helping me — and Sirius — out with this tour. So they’re on tour with us right now as our sort of ‘backstage team’ which means that we get to spend every day together. And that means we’ve spent a lot of time writing and producing music. So, stay tuned for what we release.

Coming circa 1979.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @friedfreyfries, @azure-drag0ness

divider by @v6que

[zepskies]

Omg first of all, thanks so much for shouting out As Tradition Dictates, my lovely!! I have more Eomer coming in the near future. 😘

But first *rubs hands together* time to dig into this delectable love triangle...

Dear LORD you didn't have to do me like this from the onset with that opening scene of Butcher. 🥵

No man his age should look that good. 

Correct. 👆🏽 Why is it that rugged men in their 40s attract me more than men my own age. 🫠🫠

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

lmfao Eomer, is that you? ("romantasy" ftw! 😏❤️‍🔥)

The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

lol this is one of my favorite aspects of reading/writing in The Boys fandom - everyone's creativity on creating our own fictional supes that cause mayhem for the boys. 😆😆 (Not "a reenactment of the eighth plague" 💀💀💀)

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Can always trust you to give beautiful descriptions of flora and fauna. 🪴💚

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

Sigh. I can deeply relate to that first part, as you know lol.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

Girl stop torturing me lmfao. (But actually don't stop though) "Big hands" indeed. 🥵

Ben saw straight through her though and I'm living for their dynamic! lol

“He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

Oh how magnanimous of him. 🙄 Like yes, let's all jump (literally) on that opportunity to debase ourselves for his entertainment.

...But of course, there's also that whole ridiculously attractive factor that makes Ben difficult to resist, even though he's a complete asshole loll.

You’d tried the usual things… Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation. Gone completely mute when he asked you a question. Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room. Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

OMFg. That last one is so real! 🤣🤣🤣 I feel for her for real. I wonder how Ben's actually going to help her self-confidence. 💗

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-” Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Awww this melted me so much! She's not in love with him yet, but I think he's gonna bring it out of her on accident with stuff like this loll. Also big surprise on how he said she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. 💚💚 I half-expected him to suggest exactly what she could do for him if she was so inclined. 😆

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”  What have I gotten myself into?

Oh my God, YESSS. She's in so deep already and I can only imagine where you'll take this next if you choose! I can say for sure that I'd love to see how this little scheme unfolds lol.

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

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[t-a-a-1]

Can you do bayverse optimus ?Tlk if you can.It can be whatever you want i love your scrumptious writing hehe also ignore this if you're uncomfortable!^_^

Raindrops

Summary: Optimus asks you a very important question.

A/N: Written after the happenings of TLK. 4K Words

Raindrops

....

Everyday since he met you, he’s asked himself the same question. 

“Would you come with me?”

It was a question he had imagined the answer to. A resounding ‘no’.

Optimus didn’t see any reason why you would want to go with him to Cybertron. Leaving your friends, family and career behind. All the commodities Earth provided you will be gone the moment you decide to come with him.

And it’s not like he offers you a beautiful home. Cybertron was hostile, after the war it had become ruins. He dreamed many times of showing you his home in its golden age. You would have loved the museums, the theaters, the libraries, the arts. Would you have loved them as much you love your planet? Would it be enough for you to want to stay?

“It seems Earth and Cybertron’s destiny has always been intertwined,” the sun is setting. Optimus looks at his home planet, now on Earth’s orbit. “If that had been any other celestial object, it would probably cause catastrophic events. But it seems like Cybertron was made to not disturb Earth’s gravitational pull and magnetic fields.”

Your field wasn’t physics but you had basic knowledge on how things worked. Just like he expected you to do, you started to ask the real questions. Something he was trying to avoid as long as he could. 

“But I wonder if that’s because Cybertron currently lacks a core … Maybe once we are able to restore it, Cybertron’s gravitational pull will be too strong and destroy Earth.”

You look at him but he seems lost in thought. You didn’t blame him, having his home planet back must be unbelievable. After so many years of war and lost friends, what he always wanted is right here. 

“When that happens, we’ll have to send Cybertron back to its original place in the universe.”

You expected him to continue the conversation some way or another but it's as if he wasn’t listening or rather he did not want to. Maybe he is tired of everything and wishes to leave immediately. Probably not wanting to deal with humans anymore. 

Sighing heavily, you turn around, the wind moving your hair. The smell of the grass was strong and so a new aroma. It was hard to describe. Metal but alive. It was probably Cybertron. It didn’t bother you but it was different. 

Looking back at Optimus made you realize that maybe he wanted to be alone. It is a lot of process for today. 

“Well, then I guess this is goodbye–”

And suddenly, a servo is in front of you. Stopping you from walking any further. You look back, only to find Optimus’ faceplate extremely close to you. 

“I-I … My apologies, I don’t know what took over me.”

It’s like you triggered something in him with your words. But you weren’t sure what. Now he looks confused and lost. As if I wanted to say more but can’t or don't have the words. You wanted to guess but your mind made you believe stupid ideas. Ones in which you prefer to not indulge any longer. They will only cause you unnecessary pain. 

“It’s alright, you must be emotional. That’s all.”

You wait for a few seconds in which you could see Optimus’ blue optics in all of their glory. They were beautiful as they were mysterious. So close that you could see the small circuitry and cables that make up his optics. Such intricacy that you find yourself lost in them. 

And then … you are ashamed. 

“I must go.”

You say as you look away, expecting him to move his servo but he doesn’t. 

“I must go.”

You say again and this time you see the hesitancy in his faceplace.

He slowly removes his servo and distances himself from you. His optics looks away and then looks at you in a repetitive manner. 

“Do you–”

“I–”

“Oh sorry, you go first–” You raise a hand, trying to get his attention only to be interrupted by the Prime. 

“No, you go first.”

It was awkward. And the fact that it was that way made you wonder what went wrong. In what moment did things between the two of you become so uncomfortable? Was it just the sudden realization of final peace? Was it too unrealistic for the two of you to believe? What is it? 

“Nothing, I was just wondering if there’s something you wanted to say before I leave?”

Optimus servo clutch into fits. He opens his intake but nothing would come out. It was strange to see him this way. So confused, so … innocent. As if he was a kid trying to ask for another piece of cake. Too shy to ask and yet you find these small moments to be a treasure. 

“I was just wondering …” 

He hesitates again. He closes his optics and lets out a heavy vent. Turning his entire body around, you are unable to see his faceplate. 

“When the time comes … Will you …”

His voice becomes so low that you are unable to hear him. 

“What?” 

You ask him, confused by his sudden lack of confidence. 

“Will you … me?”

He says again but the loud wind and low tone voice weren’t helping the situation. 

“... What?”

You ask once again, your voice gets louder, showing your clear annoyance at being unable to hear him.

“Will you come to Cybetron with me?!”

Suddenly, he turns around, you can see his faceplate again. 

It was that expression again. One that you had only seen a few times. That of pure distress. Worriness. Anxiety. You had seen it before. During that time you had been captured by a Decepticon, badly injured and bleeding. His troubled expression was the last thing you saw before going unconscious. 

But now? What was that distressed look for? What was he so worried about?

“I, I–”

What were you nervous for? Why were you stuttering? Your cheeks are getting hotter and you can’t speak. You can’t manage words. The expression on his faceplate had left you stunned as your brain tried to understand the reasoning behind it. 

The longer you take to answer, the more pain is evident on his faceplate. His eyebrows squish together and his optics tremble. His lips formed a thin line that slowly became an upside down smile. He is begging you to end his torment and yet you know you have to tell him the truth. 

.

.

.

.

It’s quiet around the hangar. 

A small base had been built near Stonehenge. It was the logical thing to do after Cybertron had appeared above the ancient pillars. Although the American Government wasn’t too pleased to make negotiations with the British to let them have a base in their land. 

You weren’t even supposed to be here but due to all the commotion in the last days, they let you stay. As well, Optimus and the rest of the Autobots enjoyed your stay. No one asked you when you will leave nor ever mentioned that you were a bothered. So you decided to stay for a couple of days until things settle down. 

And because your boss had asked you to stay and bring back the full story when you are done. 

“Are we just going to pretend Prime is ok?”

“Not like we can do much either or.”

They probably didn’t see you. As they were too busy talking to each other, carrying a few boxes of what you thought to be Energon. Meanwhile, you were typing on your laptop behind some piles of metal. It’s not like you were hiding but you rather found yourself a place where you could not be bothered when you needed to concentrate. 

“I still can’t believe (Y/N) said no … I thought the two of them had a strong bond.”

“Yes but everything she knows is here,” Bumblebee puts down his box as Hot Rod walks close by.  “Besides, they were too different … things wouldn’t work out.” 

“But does she even know that Optimus’s processor has identified her as his Conjunx?” Hot Rod also puts the Energon box down and sits on top of it. “Boss-Bot won’t be able to attach to anyone ever again … Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“Cruel?” Bumblebee inquiries. “His Conjunx is someone who lives a fraction of our lives. The universe enjoys the game and the Primes are the pawns.” 

“And they know how to play well.”

It started to rain. It wasn’t unusual for rain to come and go in England. 

The bots look at it with amusement. This was unknown in Cybertron. It will take a long time before they can rebuild Cybertron and go back home but this will be one of the things they will miss the most. 

“What is a Conjunx?”

You came out of your hiding spot, behind the bots and they quickly stumble in their steps as they look down on you. 

“What are you doing there?!”

“What is a Conjunx?”

You ask again, not caring whether Hot Rod or Bumblebee looked like they just had seen a ghost. 

“You don’t need to know that,” Bumblebee quickly starts to walk away while Hot Rod keeps looking back and forth. He looks hesitant but doesn’t speak, waiting for Bee’s next action. 

“You said Optimus saw me as his Conjunx,” you don’t move but rather speak loud enough for him to hear. 

“Yes but there’s no need–”

“She should know,” Hot Rod interrupts the talking yellow Mustang. 

“Optimus wouldn’t want it,” Bumblebee stops walking and turns to look at his comrade and you. There is certain determination in your eyes, letting him know that you won’t stop pushing it until you find the answers you were looking for. You had always been known for that, probably something Optimus likes about you. 

“Optimus will die of sadness if she doesn’t know.”

Bumblebee doesn't say a thing but just ex-vents heavily. 

.

.

.

“Would you stay with me?”

That’s what you wanted to ask but you already knew the answer. A resounding ‘no’. There was nothing for him on Earth. Humanity had once betrayed him and now he is doubtful. Humanity will help rebuild Cybertron and after that the transformers will leave. It would be a selfish thing to ask him to stay. You can’t ask him to give up on everything he fought for. His home, his family and friends, everything was on Cybertron. And you just were a human who wanted him to stay. 

It’s still raining. 

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop looking for him. 

Although you can already feel yourself getting sick. Your hair is wet and your clothes damp. 

It wasn’t unusual to rain in England but you hated how unpredictable the weather was. The wind was also strong but the base was already too far away to back away now. You had to find him. 

Suddenly, a truck you immediately recognized makes his way towards you. The bot you were looking for appeared in front of you but he aggressively stops and opens his pilot door, signaling to go in. 

You didn’t hesitate and jumped right in. Optimus closes the door and starts driving away as you are welcomed with warmness. Although you were cold and tired, you didn’t wait any longer.

“I was looking for–”

“Have you gone mad?” Optimus asks, his voice showing his clear annoyance. “ What are you doing in the rain without proper protection?”

“What? That doesn’t matter, I was–”

You wanted to start asking questions but you started to sneeze. 

“How can I leave knowing you are this helpless?”

And after that, all previous questions left your mind. 

“Excuse me? I can take care of myself.”

“Your actions tell me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, maybe he had a point. Running in the rain to look for him was probably not the best of ideas. But you were not about to tell him that. 

“And what about you?” you sneeze again although more softly this time as to not to prove his point any further.  “Aren’t you too told to be outside without an umbrella, you could be getting rusty anytime now?”

Optimus didn’t say a word. Your words will resonate at the back of his processor. He can’t believe he ever thought you would say yes to coming to Cybertron with him. You were right, he was an old rusty robot. Too many scars, too many mistakes and injuries. He can’t provide you with anything. Not even a family. 

And yet he is selfish. 

And you sneeze again.

And again.

“Great, I think I am going to get sick.”

He hates that word. Cybertronians also get sick but rarely. But humans are different. According to his research and observations, humans tend to get sick often and tragically a lot of them die. 

Optimus didn’t want to say a word, his pride told him to stay quiet. That you don’t need his concern, you do not wish it nor want it.

But you sneeze again.

“I’ll be taking you to the closest hospital,” he says as he makes a turn, heading for the closest road. 

“I am not going to the hospital, it's just a cold–”

“You are going to the hospital and it's final,”His voice is demanding but you don’t care.

“No, I won’t–”

“Why won’t you take my feelings into consideration?!”

His inside trembles. You could feel how his engine gets louder. The air coming from his vents got warmer and for a moment you felt your heart race. Out of guilt for making the Prime lose composure.

“What if you die?” he asks again. “What would I do after you are gone?”

The more he talks, the more desperate he sounds. As if he was living the circumstances he speaks of. 

“Have you thought what my life would be like without your presence?” you feel the seatbelt across your chest get tighter. “Do you really wish for me to be tormented for eternity.”

“This isn’t about me going to the hospital, is it?”

He doesn’t respond, his silence answers your question. 

“Let me out Prime, I want to talk to you, face to faceplate.”

He drives off the road and takes you to a heavy section of a nearby forest. Raining still, the tall trees prevent the rain from fully touching the ground. But some drops still make it through. Not like you cared about getting wet, you already were but Optimus had other plans. 

Opening the door and removing the seat belt, you jump out of his alt form. You watch him transform, a scene you will never be tired of. It's beautiful as it is scary, yet he is gentle. He knows it can be scary and he moves slower, softly as if not to scare you. 

Optimus doesn’t mass shift but he tries to see you at an eye-level. It must be uncomfortable for him and before you ask him why he doesn’t size-down, you feel him move closer.

He puts one of his large servo on top of you, protecting you from any rain from touching you.

“I want you to be honest with me,” you say as your breath is agitated, your heart pumping against your chest.  “I need to hear it from you.”

“What do you feel for me?”

Without you knowing, Optimus’ spark is also pulsating strongly against his chassis. He moves his optics away for a second, only for them to return to look at you. 

“You are a valuable asset to the Autobot cause.”

“Is that all?”

“You are also an important comrade.” 

You didn’t expect him to fully understand what you were asking. But you were hoping he could read your undertones. 

“I am giving you one last chance,” you say, your hands turning into a fist. You weren’t the best at this either and if you were honest, you didn’t know what you were trying to achieve.  “Is that all you feel for me?”

The Prime has always been known to be eloquent. Especially with words. But when it comes to you, he loses all sense of vocabulary. It didn’t use to be that way. There used to be a time when you meant nothing to him but a friend. 

But you had never stopped looking for him. After the attacks in Chicago, even after Sam’s death, an occurrence in which he blamed himself, you never stopped looking for him

What is it? Why did you do it?

“Look at the rain … Can you count each drop that falls from the sky?”

Optimus moves his optics to look at his surroundings. The rain, the trees, the beauty of nature. It cannot compare to you. 

“No, I can’t,” you respond quickly, your face full of wonder.

“Then, you are the rain,” he says.  “And I am trying to count.”

He sees your hands soften. Your expression had become awkward, with now avoiding eyes and pink cheeks. He has this need to hold you but respects your anatomy. 

“I can’t tell you how I feel because there are not enough words to describe it,” he calculates his words but he finds himself taking longer to answer. “I could recite you all of Cybertronian poetry and yet that doesn't feel enough for me.”

You keep looking at him and he looks away. Your eyes were too beautiful and it distracts him immensely. 

“But if you were to ask me to count each star in the universe I would,” he lets his spark do the talking, finally subsiding the yearning it has been holding for a long time.  “If you asked me to bring you a star, I would bring you a constellation.”

“This old rusted body belongs to you but if you ask me for my silence and distance, I won’t retaliate.” 

“And if I asked you to stay with me, on Earth, would you do it?”

You know it was a selfish question. You didn’t want to make him choose between his world and you. But you just had to know if there was a small possibility, a small chance that the life you had with him could still be a possibility. 

After the accidents in Chicago, you had looked for him, only to find him broken. Sam’s death had affected him greatly but in that grieve of losing loved ones, something sparked. 

Three years. You had lived with him for three years, in an isolated cottage. Where he could have all the dandelions he wanted. Where he could care for animals and the two of you would look at the stars and try to count them. Each one of them. 

“If that’s what you wish,” Optimus says. “I would stay by your side as long as you would have me.”

“I can’t,” you look away this time. “I won’t ask you to stay with me.”

“You have a duty to complete and Cybertron is your home,” there is more to it. More doubts than you are able to articulate.  “When you asked me to go to Cybertron with you, I said no because I don’t think I am worthy to be on your side.”

“Have my actions made you feel this way?” 

“You are Optimus Prime … I think anyone would feel unworthy,” you pause, thinking about the earlier events. “But today, Bumblebee and Hot Rod told me that you see me as your Conjunx.”

Optimus opens his intake only to close it. He looks side to side, trying to evade eye contact. One of the few times you can tell he is shy. But him acting in such a way has also made your body betray you. You wonder if he can tell just how nervous you are. 

“Does that mean — You do?”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” his voice is delicate with an apologetic tone. As if you had just caught him stealing extra energon from the resource room.  “Without noticing, my processor had one day started the Conjunx Ritus and as time passed, we both successfully completed the requirements.”

“And before I knew it, my Spark belonged to you.”

“But we are so different.”

“And yet here we are,” he makes a pause and he hears the rain. He tries to calm down before asking his next question, knowing that this will break his Spark. “Does my affection displease you?”

“No, no, I just–” you stumble with your words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Is there a possibility that perhaps, in your heart, you reciprocate my sentiments?”

And you stay silent. Mostly because you don’t fully know what is going through your heart and the implications behind it. Can this even be possible? Are your feelings even real? Can he comprehend what your feelings are? Can this … Whatever it is, be real? 

“Please end my torment,” his faceplate looks to be in distress, his optics yearning. Longing for something unknown to the both of you.  “Your silence makes me have hope and I don’t want to suffer when you destroy my delusions.”

Gently, you walk towards him. You reach out a hand and touch his faceplate. Rubbing your soft skin against his cold metal. You watch his optics close, his engine gets louder just a bit but you hear him. As if your touch had saved him, healed him from whatever his processor agonized him with. 

“You are cold,” you say as you put your forehead against his faceplate. “Until you get warm, I’ll stay with you.”

Optimus didn’t need to ask further. You didn’t have to say anything either. He just basks himself into this moment. Not knowing what the future holds but he doesn’t care as long as you are with him. This moment won’t last forever but he wants to think that one day it could be true. 

A moment were he believed he could spend eternity counting the raindrops and stars in the sky with you. 

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A/N: Sorry this took so long. I’ve seen all the Bayverse movies but TLK is a movie that is a bit hard for me to write about because I don’t understand it much lol. But I still hope you like this and that it's not too OOC?  

It was fun to write this! So thank you so much for the request! :) 

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: An itch...

MASTERPOST

As the CEO of Wayne Industries, Tim Drake has a responsibility to keep an eye on the competition. Which, for the most part, means meetings and galas and back-and-forth emails. Honestly, he doesn't even do that much personally due to the efforts of his secretary and other employees.

Though, reluctantly, Tim’s been keeping a very close eye on his newest… rival in the business. The Godson of one Vladimir Masters of Vladco; Daniel Fenton. The company photo of him was a worrying sight on its own, without considering how strange it was as the only photo Tim could find of the guy. No school photos, online presence, or signs of life other than his place as Masters godson and future owner of Vladco. The guy hadn’t made much noise, nothing big or worthy enough for Tim’s attention, and yet… well. Tim had an itch. A gut feeling.

So, he stalked researched Daniel’s life, compiled a too small file, and invited the boy and his guardian to a gala. Tim couldn’t say it was a good idea—it wasn’t even a fully formed idea by the time he hit send on the email to Vladco—but he found it better to be hasty than to find himself unprepared when shit hit the fan.

The first thing Tim noticed when the two arrived at the gala was Daniel's appearance. If Daniel had looked sickly in his Vladco photo, he looked dead in real life. The second thing he noticed were the hunched shoulders, the fisted hands, the lowered eyes, and the... fear that encompassed him as he was forced to stay by his godfather's side throughout the party.

Cass sent him a look and he nodded to show he was on the same page. If Tim didn't need her help to see it, either Daniel was bad at hiding it or too tired to try. Mind made up, he figured it was about time to talk to the recipients of his personal invitation.

As he approached, it didn't take long for Masters to notice him. Tim watched as he squeezed his godson's shoulder—too hard if the wince Daniel gave was any sign, though if Masters noticed, he didn't seem to care for any discomfort he caused. "Ah, if it isn't the CEO himself. A pleasure, Mr. Drake-Wayne. We thank you for the invitations, don't we, Daniel."

The words must have carried more weight than Tim knew of, for Daniel winced in blatant pain but forced himself to look up and nod at Tim anyway. It was a shaky thing; hardly a nod more than a harsh jerk of his head, and if Tim wasn't worried before, he was now.

"A pleasure indeed, Mr. Masters. I must admit I have some... ulterior motives for your invitations, if you don't mind me being so bold?" Tim laughed, lifting the drinks he'd brought from the catering and offering one to Masters.

Masters took it happily, though he didn't drink. "I am no stranger to boldness; after all, my Daniel is a spitfire of a boy. Do tell."

If the guy hadn't been standing right there looking like all of fifty pounds soaking wet and a wrong step away from finding out what a concussion is—though he may already have one—Tim might have thought Masters was talking of someone else.

Tim grinned nonetheless, giving a subtle signal behind his back where he knew two of his family were watching. "Fantastic! You see, I've been working on things behind the scenes of WI and... I wouldn't mind some of Vladco's particular expertise."

At this, Daniel's head shot up with a look of absolute horror, and Tim was startled back as he looked between them. Masters squeezed his shoulder again, a warning no doubt, and Daniel reluctantly looked away again. Masters laughed it off before Tim could even question, "Ah, don't mind him. He's been feeling unwell, is all."

Tim hummed, taking it as a chance to inspect Daniel without it being weird. The boy was haggard, his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be whispering to himself though Tim couldn't hear more than the air escaping his lips. "Maybe he should go sit down or get some water? This conversation would be better without... distractions, anyway."

Masters seemed reluctant, but with a look between the two, his hand lifted from Daniel's shoulder and with it some of the tension. "Go. Do not stray from my sight; I worry." Masters said, eyes narrow and voice a warning despite what Tim thought was supposed to be care.

They watched as Daniel walked away, shaky-footed and slow, but as soon as he made it to the catering table, Tim dove back into the conversation.

Slowly but surely as the conversation continued, Tim carried them further and further from Daniel, subsequently turning them so that Tim was facing the catering and Masters back was to it. Once Masters was fully turned away, Tim signaled the others.

Tim mentally apologized to Daniel for sicking his siblings on him when he was clearly sick, but he wasn't too sorry if it meant getting him away from what was clearly his abuser. Though... it felt too easy. The itch was back; had never really left.

Something was still wrong here.

[girlwhorizzed]

BOYFRIEND!JJ X READER

— when all you want is to be perfect for your boyfriend.

you'd been self conscious of yourself since you started dating jj maybank.

you were… different in just about every sense of the word from the other girls that jj would bring around, which is why you became self conscious—even your appearance played a big role in the difference, you were all soft and sweet. you dressed nice, always in cute summer dresses and pretty blouses and skirts. it was rare to see you without your make up done.

despite you being the complete opposite to his usual type, both of you just sort of clicked in an almost immediate, almost unexpected way. jj had never been with anyone like you before, so that in itself was new and exciting to him — someone he’d always thought he’d be bored of within a few days or weeks, but with you, he found himself clinging tightly to each day with you. you were different — and it was the best thing that could’ve happened to him, you were his first sweet thing.

but, you couldn't help but want to be.. better. kiara had given him the same confused, almost judgemental look everyone did when told he was now dating and official with you. no one felt you suited him and his lifestyle one bit — sure, you were a sweet, fun girl, but they all thought you’d bore of jj pretty soon, and he’d grow bored right back.

which is why your determination now to prove them wrong at this house party. you’d never been one to put yourself out there like this before. dressing in skimpier clothes, wearing more makeup, and making an effort to act more rowdy and rough than the sweet, quiet girl you normally were. you’d even started going out of your way to smoke with him, and even drink when he offered. you were determined to impress him, determined to be the girl he really wanted, even if it went against everything you actually were.

and tonight — your efforts are paying off quite nicely, your actions finally gaining the wanted response. you looked every bit the bad girl now, with your make up slightly smudged from all the dancing you’d done and the aroma of alcohol stuck to your clothing. you were determined to impress the boy that you loved. your determination was admirable, in a sense. but it was a complete disaster, in another.

it was getting increasingly obvious to everyone around you that you were completely different from how you usually were, the people around you confused — but most of all jj. his eyes followed your every movement, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. eventually — he makes a beeline to you, grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you into a room — away from the noise of the party.

you can't refrain yourself from being a silly giggling mess, the weed intake from the passed around blunt has got you dumb and fuzzy. "whattt? wha- what's wrong w'you?" you hiccup out, stumbling over your kitten heels due to the poor lighting and the loose cracked floorboards.

he holds you up, his hand gripping your elbow a little tighter than it needs to be as he closes the door behind him. he makes a ‘shh’ sound and with the mix of alcohol and weed causes you to almost collapse against him, but he pushes you off. he juts his chin before tugging his red cap off his head; clutching it firmly. he can see it in your eyes, in your stumbling around, and the way you speak — you’re just downright high.

he lets out a scoff of frustration at your question, shaking his head and closing the door behind him. he looks you up and down with his jaw clenched, not finding any real amusement in this. “sit down.” he tells you firmly, giving your ass a harsh push to seat you on the random bed.

you’re taken aback by the force of the push— you stumble over yourself, falling back onto the bed with a little “oomph” sound leaving your mouth. you just about manage to steady yourself, propping yourself up by your hands on the bed behind you — staring up at him with a grin.

“w-what?” you murmur, feeling a bit stupid for the way you’re acting — but also not really giving to much care into it. his reaction hasn’t escaped you either, and you feel a sense of triumph over seeing him all frustrated and worked up over you.

he rolls his eyes at your dumb grin and fluttery eyelashes, staring you up and down as he stands over you. you’re absolutely inebriated and acting stupid, but it just seems so out of character to him that it’s honestly pretty worrying. he doesn’t have a clue why you’re acting like this but he certainly isn’t amused, he’s completely put off. “fuck is wrong w'you? why the hell are you acting like this?” he steps closer to you, folding his arms over his chest.

the grin on your face falters, a pang of insecurity hitting you at the sight of his cold expression. your mind starts racing with worry, you've done something wrong. “i just — i just thought, uh — i mean —” you sheepishly respond, the words coming out in a meek, quiet voice. trying to figure out a good explanation for your behaviour, but you can’t, the words getting stuck in your throat. you feel stupid now, seeing just how un-impressed he is, realising that you’ve embarrassed yourself completely.

you bring your legs up onto the bed, hugging them to your chesthe look of confidence that you had so desperately tried to exude completely gone as you’re met with his harsh reaction.

the cocky persona you had adopted that night slowly fades away, your true self coming through when under his sharp gaze. he takes in the sight of you, curled up on yourself, arms wrapped tightly around you in an almost protective manner — as if you’re trying to get away from him. the sight is sad, if he’s being honest. he sighs softly, shaking his head. he’s still stood in front of you, just staring down at you. “what are you doin’?” he asks, and his voice has softened — not as cold and harsh as it was before.

“i jus’ wanted- i jus’ wanted to be perfect for you.”

you’re unable to look him in the eye, your voice coming out soft. you look down at your lap, fidgeting in your position — clearly embarrassed. you had put so much effort into acting different, acting more ‘perfect’ and ‘exciting’ for him — but it was a failure. you were ashamed and embarrassed.

he stands and thinks quietly to himself for a moment, studying you, analysing your words. his expression remains passive, but he feels a pang of hurt and guilt deep within him at your statement, your words cutting straight through him. he clenches his jaw for a second, before stepping closer to you.

“you’re bein’ stupid, yknow that?”

he suddenly grabs you, forcing your legs to drop down to the bed, and yanking you forward so that he’s between your legs, his face now just inches from yours.

you’re completely defenceless under him, the way you’re currently positioned not at all helping. your legs are on either side of his hips, his knees in between yours, and his head is lowered so that his face is mere centimetres from yours. his eyes scan your face, but there’s an expression that you hadn’t been expecting to find on his face. his eyes are soft, and there’s a hint of concern in his expression, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

“you’re stupid if you think you’ve gotta be something that you’re not— for me, or anyone.” he says, tilting your head up to hold his gaze. “you’re fine, exactly like this, like yourself. don’t go tryna be something else, somethin’ you’re not— you’re stupid if you do that.” he shakes your head a little for emphasis, making sure you’re staring back at him.

you swallow nervously, staring up at him as he continues to hold your head, staring intently into your eyes.

“i mean it.” he mutters, nodding for emphasis. “don’t wanna any of this nonsense again, a’right? you’re fine as you are. don’t change for me.” his voice is firm, but there’s a softness to it that you rarely hear — you’ve never heard him sound so genuine and sincere, his words coming so close to a confession.

“m'kay. i get it.” you reply weakly, your gaze never breaking from his, and he’s suddenly very hyper-aware of the fact that he’s stood between your legs— you’re so close to him, right under him— but he pays it no mind, his hand still holding your jaw to keep your attention on him. you’re nodding in agreement, and he loosens the grip on your jaw, instead choosing to rest his hand there, cupping your cheek.

he stares down at you, taking in every single one of your features. he takes notice of your make up, the way you’ve done your eyes, the way you’ve done your lips, how your hair is styled. he knows instantly that all of it isn’t something you would’ve done if you weren’t wanting to impress someone — wanting to impress him. “so you’ve just been tryin’ to be the girl you think i want, eh?” he gives your face a little squeeze, watching you.

before you can manage a response, a sudden involuntarily twitch in your legs, your body craving the friction that’s so close to you but so far from you at the same time. you can’t find the words to explain to him why you’ve suddenly changed how you look, so you instead just try to find a way to feel him. you bring your hands up to rest on his chest, trying to steady yourself as you start to move your hips up, trying to find friction from him. your face burns with embarrassment, but the weed’s doing enough to keep you feeling braver than you usually are.

he pushes himself away from you a little, holding you by your hips as he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “nah.” he’s blunt, and he’s quick to get you off of his chest “nah, not like this. you’re not getting it.” he makes a gesture with his hand, as if to say ‘up.’ he’s suddenly all too aware of your lack in state of awareness, you’re not in a right frame of mind. the second you’re up, he turns you around in a swift motion. “c’mon mama.”

you want to protest so bad, the weed causing all this abrupt hornyness— but he already has you standing up and now he’s behind you so he can’t see your whiny face. before you can even begin to complain, you have a harsh smack on your ass. you let out a little cry at the surprise, your knees instantly buckling. “walk.” he mutters in your ear, giving your ass another firm grab — this time just as he pushes you towards the door.

you don't walk and instead stand at the door, which jj instead opting to just grab you by the elbow and usher you out of the room and the house. it’s a pretty quick walk back to his truck, you manage to trip yourself up several times, you being stupidly high to walk on uneven concrete — which earns you a few scoffs and frustrated grunts from him. at some point he’s simply just given up on trying to let you walk by yourself, opting to just hoist you up and slinging you over his shoulder instead.

you finally let yourself go limp over his shoulder, not bothering to fight him or protest at being dragged around like a ragdoll. you’re too high and too exhausted to care anymore, all of your previous confidence and bravado completely gone now. “m’m sorry.” you grumble as you feel a bit dizzy from being upside down like this, holding on to his shirt.

you let out a soft sigh as he opens the door to his truck, putting you down so that you’re sat on the seat. he fastens the seatbelt around you as if you’re a small child, you look up at him with glossy, tired eyes.

the ride back to your home is quiet and the volume of disappointment speaks, even if it's quiet— it's practically radiating off the blonde sat closely next to you. his jaw is clenched together, a usual little habit he'd picked up when he's thinking seriously or fed up. not to mention he rejected you when you began to hump yourself against him.

he’s still pissed off, but not in the way you’d think. it’s not the way he’d normally react to something he’s pissed about, but instead there’s a sense of concern there. he doesn’t glance at you once as he drives, just staring straight ahead at the road with his jaw clenched. he feels conflicted, frustrated with knowing you’d put others opinions of you over what he thinks of you, and feeling concerned for you — because the girl he fell for was nothing like how you behaved today.

it takes less than 10 minutes for him to reach your home, driving slightly over the speed limit. he pulls up outside, putting the gear into park and glancing in your direction once he’s done so. he doesn’t know what to say, but he knows he has to say something. he looks at your expression, finding those glossy eyes still staring back at him. he sighs, knowing he can’t just kick you out of the car like this.

your somewhat asleep, resting your head against the window you've leaned into and closing your eyes— he pats your back soothingly to wake you up, you look back at him with glossy helpless eyes.

god he hates that look — he hates feeling so helpless, and all because you’d gotten high off his weed and he’s left to deal with it. what he also hates is, despite it — he still feels the need to take care of you. it’s not like you actually did anything wrong, but the fact you’d gone to great lengths to try and look a certain way for him makes him both flattered and frustrated. he shifts in his seat so he’s fully facing you, still looking you in the eyes. “i’m gonna walk you up.” he eventually states.

your expression instantly changes, the look of despair replaced with a hopeful look. you’re nervous, and you know it’s a long shot - but you still can’t help the words that come tumbling out of your mouth, words that you didn’t even plan on saying. “can you stay the night?” you ask, the words quiet and meek.

he can’t help the way his eyes widen in shock when you ask that question. he wasn’t expecting it, no part of him was expecting you to ask something like that. he had planned on doing the chivalrous thing and just seeing you safely into your home, probably making sure you’d locked up and you had some water to drink before he would head home, you'd never asked him to spend the night before. he blinks twice to make sure you understand and comprehend what you've just asked of him.

you nod at an extremely quick pace, you’re desperate for any sense of reassurance, any sign that he actually cares about you. despite his cold exterior, you’re still holding onto that little bit of hope — that you still mean something to him. after this whole night is over with you'll return back to your true self.

you nod shyly, your voice quiet. “please stay. i don’t want to be alone right now, i won’t be able to sleep if i am.”

your pleading look has his resolve crumbling instantly. he’s annoyed with the fact he’s so pussy whipped, but he’s also pissed at the idea of you not only high but being home alone — vulnerable, and he can hardly bring himself to say no. he lets out a long exhale - frustrated and yet, there’s some hint of defeat lacing his voice. “fine. but we’re sleeping on the couch.”

you don’t know where the sudden confidence comes from, maybe it’s the weed making you less insecure than normal or maybe it’s the fact you know he’s unable to say no now— but you find yourself arguing back with him, your eyes still pleading as you stare at him.

“no! we’re sleeping in my bed, your my boyfriend!"

a small smirk makes its way onto his face at the demanding tone you use despite you being so small and timid looking. he raises his eyebrow at your words, amused at the way you try to assert yourself and demand what you want from him. he leans back in his seat a little, tilting his head back to look at you properly. “yeah? i’m your boyfriend?” he asks incredulously, but the smirk is still there.

you’re suddenly a lot braver now you feel you’ve got his attention, having found your confidence again. you nod enthusiastically, puffing your chest out a little. “duh! you’re my boyfriend.” you affirm, before letting a soft pout take over your lips again, “so we’re sleeping in the princess bed!”

he lets out a scoff at your sudden change to being confident, the contrast between now and earlier in the night is almost laughable. but then he sees the way your eyes fall to a soft, and how your expression dips to the cute little pout - he can feel himself already giving in.

he lets out a sigh, nodding his head in agreement. “alright, princess. we’ll sleep in your princess bed.”

[sal-absinthii]

How does Harry treat Lupin badly?? All I can think of is him getting upset at Lupin for wanting to abandon his pregnant wife, which is understandable because A. it's a dick move on the face of it, and B. because Harry is sensitive about having lost his own parents not through choice and he can't believe anyone would do that on purpose. Is that what this is about, or am I forgetting something?

Another great example though of a time where it is useful to try out the skill of understanding for understanding's sake, rather than with the aim to pass moral judgment.

Bad questions to ask:

- Was Harry right or wrong to get angry at Lupin?

- Is it good or bad of Lupin to want to leave Tonks and join Harry?

- are X character's actions justified/sensible according to information (including emotional) X character does not have, based on the fact that I, the reader, see more than the character does?

Good questions to ask:

- Why does Harry react so strongly to Lupin's offer? What situation does he compare it to, and does it make sense that someone with Harry's history would feel this way? (note that this is a DIFFERENT question than "would I feel that way" or "is Harry's response justified" or "did Lupin deserve to be yelled at")

- Why does Lupin want to leave Tonks? What is he basing his reasoning off of? Do the reasons he gives line up with his previous and current actions/choices? Does it make sense that someone in his unusual situation would feel this way? (again, a DIFFERENT question than "is Lupin correct" or "do I approve of what Lupin is doing")

- What reason does Lupin give for wanting to join Harry? For what reason does Harry think Lupin wants to join him? Do they see the situation the same way as each other?

- If they have different views of the situation, how might this lead to problems communicating/understanding the other? Does the scene privilege one character's interpretation of the situation over the other? (careful again not to mix up "the reader is being set up to give more weight to the perspective of the character through whom we see the events" and "therefore the author believes exactly what this character is thinking/saying and it is always an accurate and complete picture of the events/other characters" -- being narratively directed to take one side can also be used to establish conflict or as misdirection and does not mean that the perspective is meant to be true or that it reflects the author's own moral beliefs if this were a real nonfiction event)

- What is Harry basing his accusations off of? Is he reacting more in this moment to Lupin or to his own history?

- What does Lupin fear? What is he hoping to gain? ("he's fundamentally a shitty person and a coward" is NOT an answer)

- Thinking about previous incidents in which Harry and/or Lupin were faced with difficult interpersonal choices, how does this interaction reflect the broader patterns of behaviour each of these characters has shown before? Has this behaviour been consistent, or has it evolved over time? If so, how has it evolved, and what factors caused that?

- If I have a strong immediate reaction to this scene, what is it about my own history/perspective/fears that makes me react this way? Does this remind me of something? Have I been in a situation like this myself? Do I find it significantly easier to relate to the character I side with than the character I don't? In what ways? Might that be biasing my interpretation? (this does not mean that your interpretation is automatically wrong or that you aren't allowed to feel strongly about it, but it is something you absolutely must be aware of if you're going to write any analysis of anything and hope to be taken seriously)

In general, questions designed to elicit a judgment are not very useful. You can of course make those judgments, like or dislike characters as people, and have opinions about what you would have done the same or differently, but you have to keep that separate from analysis, because that is not analysis. A character can be well-written but unlikeable, likeable but not the protagonist -- so when you simply say that a character is "good" or "bad," you need to first understand which of these you are addressing.

Secondly, if you are unable to articulate why a character does what he does and to see the internal logic of his feelings and actions -- regardless of whether you personally would have done the same, or consider those actions correct or wise -- you have no business even attempting to judge them in the first place, because you do not understand them. This is the Chesterton's fence of character analysis: if you don’t see why a character is a certain way, you have no business judging them. When you can come back and tell me that you do see why they are that way, you can state your case. In other words, if you are unable to understand why Lupin comes to Harry and why Harry reacts as he does, you definitely shouldn't be vilifying one or the other. Once again begging Tumblr to internalise the difference between "I understand this" and "I endorse this."

Regarding my last post, here were the comments.

Ah yes, an orphan not seeing the man who never reached out to him, never made any effort to build a relationship as a father with him makes him bad.

Poor Remus deadbeat Lupin. Didn’t Harry know it was his job to take care of him/j.

Seriously though I hate the marauders fandom, it should illegal for them to talk on Harry.

[blazinbeautywrites]

Behind the Scenes

Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.

None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me unless stated otherwise. Full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.

A/N: Whew I'm a lil rusty and this is my first time writing for Aaron so please bare with me.

Summary: Aaron has fallen for his co-star and has a feeling she wants him to. A night out with his favorite girl reveals just how much tension has been built up between them.

Length: 2,498 words

Genre: Fluff (kinda), smut

Aaron was irritated. His car was late, a bird shit on him, and to top it all off, he had to drop out of a role he really wanted due to a scheduling conflict. But all these little inconveniences dissipated once he heard her laughter. Kiki Davis. His beautiful and talented co-star whom he had a little crush on. When they first met she was so warm and welcoming and he immediately felt comfortable in her presence. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her energy was quite the contrast to the dark, gory horror film they were starring in together. He began making his way to hair and makeup when he heard her sweet voice.

“Okay I see you buff daddy all big and shit in ya lil suit.” Kiki said, smiling big trying to hold back her laughter.

“Girl you play too much but you look good your damn self, spin around for me real quick.” Aaron said, staring down at her shorter frame. Kiki raised her eyebrow at his boldness. Usually he would give her a cute laugh and blush a bit but she enjoyed this more confident version of him. Doing as he asked, she began spinning, showing off her beautiful figure in her cute little dress. He couldn't help staring at her ass and the way it sat up so nice. All he wanted to do was lift her dress up and spank her. Kiki noticed the way he was looking at her and gave him a wide smile. She moved closer to him and as she felt her nipples slightly graze his chest she scaled her eyes from his wide chest, neck, lips, and finally his beautiful eyes.

“You know, if you wanted to see my ass, all you had to do was ask.” And with a wink and a smile she was gone, whisked back to hair and makeup. Aaron was stuck. His own assistant ushered him to his waiting room. He had no idea how the hell he was going to make it through this press junket.

************************

“It was the craziest thing I'd ever seen. The way they just kept slipping and sliding, it was never ending.” Kiki laughed as she recounted watching the stunt people coordinate a chase scene on set while having to run on a bloody floor. Aaron was so enamored with her he completely missed the interviewer asking him the same question.

“Aaron? You okay my man?” The interviewer laughed, causing the audience to giggle.

“Yeah, you okay Aaron?” Kiki teased. Aaron had to recover fast so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Ummmm, I actually loved Kiki's fight scene. I feel like she gave it her all and it was nice watching how she mixed her karate and boxing training. It was really cool to watch her in her element.” Aaron said as he looked at Kiki and smiled. Kiki winked at him and that sent a shiver down his back.

“Of course you'd pick one of my scenes as your favorite. I expect nothing less from the man who's madly in love with me.” Kiki joked. The whole audience “ooooohed” and laughed at that. Aaron looked Kiki dead in the eyes, not backing down.

“And so what if I am? What then?” Aaron challenged. Kiki's smile dropped, expecting him to go shy or laugh off her flirting like he always does. She was not prepared for him to flirt back. Oh the stakes have definitely been raised.

“Oh Aaron. Trust me baby, you don’t want this smoke.” Kiki said. Aaron still wasn’t backing down.

“Kiki, Kiki, Kiki………..I want all the smoke.” He replied. The audience erupted in chaos after he said that. Aaron and Kiki stared each other down with a pure, intense lust.

“Is it me or is it getting hot in here?” The interviewer asks, earning some laughs from the audience. The interview continues with a little more light flirting and more on set anecdotes from Aaron and Kiki.  Once the interview was done, their assistants came to bring them backstage. Before Kiki can enter her dressing room, she turns to Aaron, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Sooooo some of us are going to the Moonlight Lounge. You wanna come?” Kiki asks.

“I’d love to. I have to stop home first but I’ll meet you all there.” Aaron said. Kiki watched him walk away and she knew she was in trouble. She also knew that she would definitely have a piece or at least a taste of that fine ass man, tonight.

*****************************

The Moonlight Lounge 9:02 pm

Some of the cast and crew were already a bit tipsy by the time Aaron arrived. He was amused seeing them all let their guard down. He saw Kiki and their other costar, Vanessa Leon, sitting by themselves talking and laughing. Vanessa saw Aaron before Kiki did and smirked whole making eye contact with him.

“And looked what the cat dragged in. Hey handsome.” Vanessa flirted, making Aaron smile.

“Hey V, see you've had a few drinks already.” Aaron chuckled. 

“Boy I've only had like 3 of these weak ass cocktails.” Vanessa said. Judging by her hiccups, he could tell that they were getting to her. After damn near falling over she excused herself to the restroom.

Aaron took a look at Kiki and almost lost his cool when they made eye contact. He appreciated the way her dress accentuated her curves and breasts. He could just imagine sucking on them while she rode him. 

“There you go staring off into space again. What's on your mind, pretty eyes?” Kiki asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how much I enjoyed working with you this past summer.” Aaron spoke. Kiki’s eyebrow rose and she gave him a wide smile.

"Awww I really enjoyed working with you too. You wanna get out of here? I’m kind of over this and I’m ready to take this dress off.” Kiki said. Aaron gave her a devilish smile and helped her to her feet. Just as they were about to walk out of the door, they saw Vanessa coming from the bathroom.

“Leaving so soon yall?” She asked.

“Yeah and maybe you should be heading out soon too V?” Kiki said.

“Oh girl I already called my man to come take my ass home.  I don’t know why I thought I could hang. I am not in my 20s anymore. But yall get home safe.” Vanessa replied.

After saying their goodbyes, Aaron led Kiki to his car. He opened his passenger door and helped her secure her seatbelt before getting in himself. He let her put her address in his navigation system and they headed to her house. After a 20 minute drive filled with sexual tension and light conversation, they’d arrived at her beautiful, secluded Los Angeles home. Aaron parked and quickly got out to open her car door. Kiki thanked him and began walking towards her gate, punching in the code. After opening her front door, Kiki let out a sigh of relief and took off her heels. Aaron followed suit, taking off his own shoes. He watched as she sashayed to her kitchen to grab them something to drink. He was so entranced by her ass that he didn’t hear her ask what he wanted to drink. 

“Aaron?” Kiki called out confused. He snapped out of it at the sound of her voice and made his way into the kitchen. He looked in her fridge and saw she had a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He grabbed it and let her direct him to her glass cabinet and he poured them each a glass. They stood in a comfortable silence and just stared each other down. Kiki had some wild ass thoughts floating in her head that made her giggle. She took a sip and relished in the sweet taste of the cool wine. Aaron raised a brown, intrigued by her little outburst. He moved closer to her, stopping just short of her smaller stature.

“And what’s so funny Ms. Davis? He teased. He invaded her personal space, once again admiring her dress and how it clung to her gorgeous figure. He moved a piece of her hair out of her face with his finger then slowly trailed his finger down her arm. 

Kiki was stuck. All she could do was stare at him wordlessly. She got lost in his eyes and before she realized what she was doing, she’d kissed him. She pulled back quickly, embarrassed she’d let herself lose control like that.

“Shit I’m so sor-.” She couldn’t even finish her sentence as Aaron pulled her against him and kissed her back. Kiki gasped out of shock and Aaron used that opportunity to introduce his tongue to hers. Kiki was tonguing him down and he loved how sloppy it was. He tested the waters and slid his hand down to her ass, giving it a light squeeze. Kiki moaned into the kiss, spurring him on. He now had both hands on her ass and was rubbing and squeezing her to his heart's content.

“See this ass right here....it's gon get you in trouble.” Aaron spoke against her lips. Without warning he slapped both of her cheeks so hard, she just knew that he’d leave marks.

“Hmmm do it again.” Kiki purred. Aaron was happy to oblige. He gave her what she wanted and Kiki almost collapsed into his arms. She was in a state of euphoria. Aaron realized he’d accidentally unveiled one of her kinks. He would definitely be using it to his advantage. “So you like to be spanked? Hmmmm.” Aaron playfully taunted. He was in heaven. He’d finally got to see what Ms. Kiki Davis was about and he was more than ready to show her what the fuck he was about. He picked her up and sat her on her kitchen island, careful not to knock over their forgotten glasses of wine. Kiki’s was burning up on the inside. This man had her feral as hell and she couldn’t wait to rip his clothes off. Aaron was just as needy and wasted no time in pulling down the front of her dress.

“Mmmm, imma enjoy these.” He said as he latched onto her left nipple. He played with her right as he flicked his tongue against her warm flesh. Her moans were music to his ears and he loved knowing it was him that had her feeling this way.

“Yeessssss fuck babyyyyyy.” Kiki moaned. She’d never had an orgasm from nipple stimulation but there’s a first time for everything. Aaron switched sides and gave her right nipple the same treatment as the left. Once he’d had his feel, he pulled back and gave her a once over.

“You really are fucking beautiful. I’m glad I finally got you alone.” He said as he dragged his hands down to her ankles and brought them up onto the counter. He held one leg in his hand and admired her pretty lavender painted toes. She felt like he was staring into her soul as he picked up her foot and planted soft kisses on her ankle. Without warning, Kiki felt a warm, wet sensation and watch as Aaron’s tongue swirled around her big toe. He moaned and she almost came right then and there. She was enjoying the feeling of his mouth on her so much that she hadn’t noticed that he’d raised her dress up a bit and was slipping his pointer finger in her underwear.

“Oh my fucking god.” Kiki whined as Aaron’s finger circled her clit. His movements were slow and calculated as he continued to suck on her toe. The dueling sensations had Kiki feeling like she was floating on a cloud. He added his middle finger to the mix and she began grinding up against him.

“Fuck you’re so damn wet. I can hear that pussy talking to me. I bet she tastes even better than she feels.” He praised. He pulled his fingers from her underwear and put them in his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored her taste. He dipped his fingers into her entrance and collected some of her juices. He brought his fingers to her mouth and watched as she licked her own essence from her fingers. He kissed her once more and as they kissed, Kiki could taste herself on his tongue. Aaron took his spit and cum covered fingers and circled them around her nippled. He sucked her nipple back into his mouth and cleaned up his mess. He gently nudged her backwards so she could lay down on the counter. She spread her legs and felt a cool breeze on her soaked underwear. Aaron effortlessly lifted her up and slid off her underwear. He wasted no time diving into her pussy. He licked a long stripe up her center and began eating her out like a starved neanderthal.

Kiki grabbed his head and grinded against his lips, chasing her orgasm. He was breaking her down in the best way and she couldn’t get enough.

“Right there right there right there-OH FUUUUCK.” Kiki screamed. Aaron moved back and watched as she squirted. He leaned down and caught some of her juices, drinking from her as if she was his personal water fountain. He watched as she made a mess all over her kitchen, smiling smugly at his handiwork. He rubbed her thighs, helping her come down from her high. Kiki was shook. That was one of her most powerful orgasms ever and it was all because of her fine ass co-star. 

“You good Ms. Davis?” Aaron asked her, still smiling at her.

“Nigga wipe that smug ass smile off you face and help me down.” Kiki said, amused that he was so impressed with himself. After being placed on the floor, she walked to her hall closet, grabbing a big towel to clean up her mess off of her island. She knew she’d have to deep clean but tonight was not the night for that. While she cleaned up the floor, Aaron grabbed her from behind, and held her against his body.

“You know I’m not done with you right?” He whispered into her ear. She smiled and turned around in his arms. She gave him a quick kiss then pulled him towards her living room.

“Oh I know. Now go sit down so I can eat that dick up.” Kiki commanded. Aaron obeyed her and sat down on her sofa and watched as she crawled to him, stopping just short of his legs. He could just tell that she’d devour him and he was prepared to go all night with her.

He finally got his leading lady.