#meg’s writing

[feyhunter78]

When the Night Turns

Description: The night before your husband leaves for battle, he tells you of his aspirations for the throne. You in turn confess your fears.

“I spoke with Cole, told him it is time for someone better to sit on the Iron Throne, and that will be me. Obviously.” Aemond says, his head resting on your thigh, his silver hair splayed out against the light blue fabric of your nightshift.

You say nothing, only continue combing your fingers through his hair. To speak in agreement with him would be treason, to speak against him would be your undoing.

“That this is where my reign begins.” He continues, the one arm around your waist tightening as he looks up at you, expectant.

You know what he desires, but you cannot give it to him, not here where Aegon is still King, where you do not have a dragon or an army of your own to keep you safe from accusations of treachery. Not when it is so clear that Aemond had no qualms about directing his anger at those closest to him, you cannot count on him or his dragon.

So, you choose the safe route. “Here, My Prince? I am no strategist, but I cannot say I believe my chambers to be the most effective place for anyone to begin their reign.”

Aemond hums in response, his good eye closed, his sapphire one glinting in the low candlelight.

You bite the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you digest Aemond’s words. Of course, you believe him better suited for the throne but…

“I can sense the wheels in your mind turning issa prumia, speak, let your king ease your mind.” His voice still has that low, smooth tone to it, a gentleness to his words that you remember from when he said his vows, in the Great Sept. He promised that you were his, and he was yours, that none shall tear you asunder.

You smooth your thumb across his forehead, admiring the shadows his eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. “I wish you would take more care with your words. Your brother is the rightful king; it is what this war is all about, and I do not wish to see another conflict spring up when all of your focus should be on defeating the false queen.”

“And her craven of a husband.” Aemond says, unable to let any mention of his uncle go unsaid.

You nod, though he cannot see, and caress the curve of his cheek, fear flicking in your chest. “Yes, and that butcher.”

You shiver at the memory of the screams, of the rage and grief that echoed through the Keep after Jaehaerys’ death.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you once more, there is no need to speak, the consequences of Blood and Cheese’s actions weigh heavily on him, and you. They had been tasked with killing Aemond, but could not find him, Daemon did not know you and Aemond kept separate chambers, did not know your husband spent half his nights in your bed the other half in his own.

If they had not come upon Helaena first, if they had gone a few rooms down and found your chambers it may have ended differently, Aemond would have been able to stop them…

“I will not mourn when the Stranger comes for Daemon Targaryen.” You cannot keep the venom from your voice, even as flames of fear begin to climb once more within you.

Your hand must have stilled because Aemond brings it to his lips, his gaze meeting yours.

His amethyst eye is alight, a smug smile on his lips. “I will defeat them, I will win this war, and the realm shall have a king worthy of the throne. Rhaenyra and Daemon’s heads shall adorn the gates, and I shall decorate the Great Hall with their dragons’ skulls.”

You pull your hand away, your throat tight as the smoke from the flames of fear in your chest rise up and choke you.

Aemond follows, sitting up and taking your face in his hands, his eye inspecting every inch, his expression changed, softer, more attentive. “I am sorry, I should not speak of such things to you, they are far too gruesome for your ears.”

“I am afraid, Aemond.” You whisper, your hands coming to grasp his wrists, clinging to him. You know Vhagar is strong, that Aemond is smart, but you cannot help but be afraid, afraid that his pride will be his undoing.

“Do not be. Have faith in me, in Vhagar, in Cole. We are blessed, guided by the Seven.” He says, his long, lithe fingers threading into your hair, massaging the nape of your neck.

“I do, but I do not fear for you at Rook’s Rest, I fear that you will—” You cut yourself off, you cannot tell him you fear his pride will drive him to act foolishly, you are not the Dowager Queen, you cannot speak your mind so freely. “You are right. I will have faith.”

Aemond’s grip on you tightens, his gaze hardening. “Speak, y/n.”

You cast your eyes downwards, your voice soft. “I fear that you will be blinded by your ambition, that your pride will doom you.”

Aemond releases you with a sigh, and slips from your bed, his back to you as he gathers his things. “I expected such words from my mother. Perhaps you have spent too much time with one another.”

You follow after him, the stone floor cold against your bare feet. “I do not wish to lose you.”

He turns on his heel, eye patch in hand. “So, you think to insult me? To all but imply you do not believe I will be able to accomplish our goals, to win this war, and rule the realm?”

You take his hands in yours and press them to your heart, hoping he can feel how fervently it beats, how it beats for him, as it has since the day you met. “You asked me to speak, My King, to let you ease my mind. I did as you asked because I could not bear it if I did not speak, and you were lost to me because of the very thing I wished to warn you of.”

Your use of My King has softened him, if only a little, and he inclines his head towards you. “You think me prideful, issa prumia?”

“I think you a great man, with the largest dragon in the realm, but you are also a man who comes from hurt, whose family has been hurt.” You say carefully, as you keep a tight grip on his hands. “Your pain is real, and deserves recompense, but not at the risk of your life.”

Aemond’s eye flickers to the burning hearth, and you know you have reached him.

“Promise me, swear to me that if Daemon comes, however foolish it may be, no matter that you think he will not, promise me that you will use the aid of others to defeat him. Let that butcher gloat and preen, let him act as if he is the conqueror reborn, for we know he is a fool. And fools always reveal their weaknesses in time.”

Aemond slips his hands from yours and there is an ache in your chest, but he soothes it quickly, when he presses his lips to yours softly, his hand coming to cradle your cheek, the other settling on your waist. “My little wife, how clever you are.”

You lean into his touch, your own hands anchoring themselves in his tunic. “I must be, for how can I be the wife of King Aemond the first, if I am not?”

He smiles at your words, and pulls you flush against him. “I will have the servants move your things to my chambers, I want to return from battle to find my wife safe in my bed.”

Your heart leaps, when you first married you had hoped that you and Aemond would share chambers as your mother and father did, but he had shown little interest in the idea. In truth, it had served you and him well on that bloody night, but those routes in had been sealed, and his chambers were checked for other secret doors. It had been declared safe and for more than one reason now you could not be happier.

“You will find no argument from me, though I will need prior notice if you wish me to wear anything particular for your return.” Your voice takes on a jesting tone, though your words are true, and the way Aemond’s lips drift downwards, ghosting over the skin of your neck, tells you he hears them well.

“I have no preference, provided it is easily replaced.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed as Aemond’s lips find your pulse point. “Easily replaced?”

“How fond are you of this nightshift?” He asks in lieu of answering your question.

“I think it is pretty, but it is not my best one, I did not know you would be visiting me, so I did not have time to prepa—” The sound of fabric ripping accompanied by the clatter of a dagger against the stone floor and the cool air on your skin silences you.

Aemond hums appreciatively, his eye drinking in your form as he walks you backwards towards your bed. “This is why it must be easily replaceable; I cannot attest to the patience I will have when I return.”

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[thoughtkick]

It’s funny how you can go for a long time in life not needing someone, and then you meet them and you suddenly need them all the time.

Meg Wolitzer, Belzhar

[palms-upturned]

I’m still not quite ready to get my blogs back up and running but in the process of my research I learned that Matt Mullenweg donated $13,200 to Joe Biden this past March, and also one of Automattic’s board members is Ann Dunwoody, a former US army general who led paratroopers in Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm. Lol. Some food for thought re: the discrimination against Palestinian bloggers on this site.

[thesummerstorms]

I kind of feel like the Demeter cabin kids must low key HATE Persephone.

Imagine that one of the most popular, well-taught Greek myths of all time is about how your mother's love and grief for your sister was so overpowering it literally created the seasons.

And then here you and your mortal siblings are, dying on a quest, or against the armies of Kronos, or in the hands of Gaia, or fighting an undead Roman Emperor, and your mother doesn't even spare you a conversation.

You and your siblings, despite your perceived weakness, show up to fight the armies of Kronos, to stop the thrones of the Gods from being overturned. Your siblings and friends are bleeding or dying.

And your mother takes her favorite daughter and hides in the underworld.

Demeter 's love for Persephone brought winter upon the world. Her love for you does nothing.

[perfectquote]

It’s funny how you can go for a long time in life not needing someone, and then you meet them and you suddenly need them all the time.

Meg Wolitzer, Belzhar

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

I was spinning the TFO Characters around in my head and this happened. I am an enjoyer of "TFO Bee is older than OP and Elita and D" so I went a little nutso about it. I really hope this makes an ounce of sense bc this was very stream of conscious.

Optimus is digging though some ex-miners data files. Partially to ensure everything is updated but mostly to see if Sentinel did anything else to them... aaaaaand OP just wants to snoop a bit; sue him. "Huh, I wonder if I can find B's file," OP thought. And he could, because he dug through nearly every cabinet twice before he found it. Bee must have pissed Sentinel off something fierce bc he buried his file in with the old bot's so no one could find it. Surrounded by haphazard piles of data pads, Optimus gets comfy and starts snooping.

Bee has a very long list of infractions: 30 counts of talking back to superiors (D would hate him for that), 158 counts of ignoring protocol (Elita would have his head on a pike), 29 counts of breaking and entering (A bot after OP's own spark), 8 counts of theft (damn), 2 counts of arson (Damn), 4 counts for participating in a riot (DAmn), 2 counts of assaulting a superior (DAMN), 1 count for conspiracy against the government (HUH?), 1 count for bot-slaughter ((⊙_⊙)). How did OP not hear about any of this, this sounds like something every miner would know about? A miner assaulting a superior? The rumour mill would have had a field day with that alone. OP moves on to Bee's assignments, maybe there's a reason this news never got to OP's mining sector. Damn, that's a lot of sectors: 3, 7, 10, 11, 14, 19, 23, 26, 27, 30, 35- wait, that was OP's sector, when was Bee there? OP doesn't remember any yellow bots running around committing arson? Field medic, tool repair, tool fabrication, Prototype jetpack testing- Testing? Those things were older than OP; why would Bee be testing them? It doesn't even mention his assignment to sub level 50!! The questions continue to gather as OP reads on, confusing him more and more.

Elita interrupts his confused scrolling by walking into the room to tell OP something. OP ignores her words and franticly shoves Bee's file in her face. Elita is older than OP (Not by much), maybe she knows something about Bee. She doesn't, and now both of them are confused. Was there another guy named B-127 in the past? Was current Bee a clone? Wtf is going on?? The two of them begin going down a rabbit hole. They dig through every wayward file they can find. They get so desperate that, during a skirmish with the Decepticons, they ask Megatron if he knows anything. They get a data pad with Bee's info and glue a magnet to the back. During the fight, OP gets into a one on one with Meggy and slaps the datapad onto his back before the cons retreat. Yes this is the dumbest thing they've ever done, hopefully Meg doesn't ignore them. Also what did you want to tell me before, I completely forgot to ask-

Megatron is ignoring the datapad that OP stuck to his back. It's been stuck to the wall of his room since he threw it there. He glares at it a lot. Eventually, he gets curious and reads it, maybe OP apologized for being a backstabbing bitch. He did not; it's a copy of B-127's personal file with a lot of question marks and circles drawn on everything. Meg gives it a read, curious about his frie-EX Friend. He's taken aback by how long the infraction list is (conspiracy against the government? Bot-Slaughter? Sounds like Meg's kinda bot) and how extensive OP's notes are. He taps at the screen a few times before turning the pad off and stowing it in his subspace.

During their next fight, Megatron returns the data pad by shoving the magnet against Optimus's face.

After returning, Optimus turns on the data pad. There are three things added by Megatron. 1: A circle around a line of fine print at the end of the Assignments tab, "Permanently reassigned to Waste Management on Sub-level 50." Optimus's own frantic writing is just above it "SUB-LEVEL 50????" (that is the smuggest circle known to Cybertron). 2: A sentence next to Bee's medical records "What is his listed Spark Date?" and 3: A sentence at the top of the first page, "Have you asked B-127 about this?"

OP and Elita did not ask Bee about any of this. The thought never crossed their minds. Bee even helped them sort through old data pads! They feel incredibly stupid. Elita is too proud to go and ask so OP slips it into his and Bee's next one-on-one convo.

OP: Hey Bee, I found your data file in the Miner records.

B: Oh cool! Let me see, I want to see what's on it.

OP: *gives data pad*

B: Oh wow, this thing is long. They really wrote down everything- Oh, I've got a funny story about sector 23, there was this bot I knew, cool guy you would like him, and he had this thing-

OP: Actually, Bee... can I ask you a few questions? About your file?

B: Shoot, big guy.

OP: ...Arson? Assault? Conspiracy?

B: What about that?

OP: They're in your file, it says you've done them.

B: Oh yeah, no, I've done them. I mean, who hasn't? Wait, is it bad that I've worked against the government now that I'm a government employee?

OP: So you've actually done all this??

B: Yeah, why? I thought you guys knew this stuff.

OP: What?

Bee then explains how he was apart of a rebel organization that wanted better lives for the cogless. He had joined pretty early on and was pretty good at talking loud enough without a loudspeaker that he became the face of the org. Things were going pretty well; bots were listening, and changes were getting implemented, all that good stuff. Sure there were a few riots but you can't make a space omelette without breaking a few space eggs (tf is a space egg...). Eventually, Sentinel got sick of them so he ordered them to be rounded up and thrown in jail. Bee was the first to get caught, but he didn't snitch on the rest of his group, so he was sent down to Sub-level 50. Never heard what happened to everyone else after that.

Optimus hears all this and immediately drags Bee to the file room to find more info. It takes a hot minute but they find the record of the org Bee was a part of. It got dissolved before OP was sparked. Flabbergasted, OP asks Bee when he got sparked.

B: *Holding pad with poster of Bee's face* Oh, this brings back memories. I actually knew the bot who made these. I wonder if she's still doing these...

OP: Bee, how old are you, exactly. When did you get sparked?

B: uhhh, let me get back to you on that one.

OP: Bee, you got put in Sub-level 50 before I was born, how old are you?

B: I'm gonna be real, I do not know how long I was down there. Time kinda blurs after a while. Ho-How old are you?

OP: 16 cycles.

B: I was down there for over 16 cycles?? Primus below, is anyone still alive? Oh, right, age. uuuuuuhhhh, 48? Cycles? I think? Around there. Hey, did you see any files for a bot named Knockout? I would like to see it for no personal reasons whatsoever-

OP: Bee you were sparked right after the primes died wtF-

Chaos ensues. OP comms Elita and she immediately stops whatever she was doing to join the two in the file room. OP is freaking out bc he thought Bee was around his age, what do you mean you're actually double my age. You should be running the government, not me, I'M A BABY COMPARED TO YOU. Elita is pacing around trying to make sense of Bee's past, what do you mean you were the face of an organization, what do you mean you successfully implemented the miners right to clean energon, what do yoU MEAN. Bee is ignoring both of them and franticly looking for his friends' files, hoping at least a few of them are still alive. Or just one, specifically a red one that was a field medic oh please let him still be around at least-

Eventually everyone calms down and they talk about it. Optimus and Elita get to learn about the other time the miners tried to rise up and get better treatment. Gotta love a impromptu history lesson. Bee's best guess as to why the org was wiped from history was bc Sentinel didn't want any other miners getting any ideas and doing it again. They figure out Bee was actually down in Sub-level 50 for about 20 cycles, give or take, which spurs an actual search for anyone he knew before (B: pls pls pls pls pls living bf pls pls pls pls). Primus must have been smiling up at them because they do find several bots Bee knew from before. Good time is had all around. Reunions and meet ups, parties and get togethers, everything a bunch of old bots do after not seeing each other for a long time. They get to reminisce on all the old crimes they committed together (OP and E1 are v concerned bc is this normal? Are we going to turn into this?) They have a lot of shit to catch up on and everything is pretty great actually.

During their next fight, Megatron gets another data pad stuck onto his back. When he turns it on, the only thing on it is a selfie Bee took at his Spark day party, with the "Happy 49th Spark Day!" sign in the background. The photo's caption says, "(Yes, It's correct) Miss you lots! Hope you're less of an angry glitch the next time I see you!"

If anyone wants to take this idea and do it better, please do, I am not very good at this. Proper formatting is not my specialty.

[ninjasmudge]

When Macaque can take his relationship with Sun Wukong falling apart better than Megatron does with Optimus.

why cant you be more like macaque, he just beat some people up and put on plays until he felt better

anyway enjoy this niche crossover

[espinosaurusrexex]

!this is a repost because something was wrong with the original!

Thank you so much! I had a lot of fun with this. Already looking forward to all the other imagines lined up 🥰

Secret Relationship (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

BuckyBarnes x Female!Avenger!Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fluffy af, little angst

Your eyes stared over the coffee mug at him from across the room. He was stealing glances over to the kitchen in which you sat as Sam and Tony tried to convince him to meet the smoking hot yoga teacher bachelorette the two of them had found for him this week. 

You felt a little bad for him, to be honest. Bucky seemed exhausted from their constant nagging. It was weird to see the two men together like this. Normally, Tony and Sam would just pass in the hallway with subtle nods. But when it came to finding a woman for Bucky, the two could be mistaken for best friends. 

“Her name is Ronda and she is hot.”

“Mhm. Gives hot yoga a whole new meaning.”

“That’s right. And she’s willing to meet you!”

“Well, I’m not willing.”

“Why are you always like this, Bucky? We go out and we find you a nice girl and you decline every time.”

“Maybe he’s like this because Dr. No over here isn’t getting laid. Which is why you should go on this date.”

“I don’t need to get laid to be in a good mood, Tony.”

“We don’t know that. You’re always grumpy and you’re most certainly not getting laid. Doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me.”

“Oh, that definitely isn’t a coincidence.”

“I’m a scientist I know that stuff.”

“Yeah, he’s a scientist. Listen to him.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

But Bucky was panicking, you could see it in his eyes. He wanted to say it, that he didn’t want to go on dates because was already dating you. But you had forbidden him from doing so. It was better this way, and he had not spoken up when you suggested keeping your relationship a secret for now. 

With a small smirk, you got off your chair.

“Have you two geniuses ever thought about your annoying banter being the reason for his bad mood?” You sauntered past the men with your mug still in hand, the other slightly grazing Bucky’s back on your way to the door. You could feel his muscles relax just from the small touch. 

“How are we being annoying? We are literally helping him get some.”

“I don’t need to get any!” 

That was the last thing you heard Bucky shout frustratedly when you entered the hallway, a small chuckle leaving your lips before you went to your room to finish the report you had yet to hand in. 

-❁-

It wasn’t long before Bucky entered your room with an exhausted sigh. He leaned against the closed door when you looked up and then proceeded to approach you at your desk, where he leaned over your shoulder, arms caging you to his chest and chin nuzzling in your neck. 

“They’re the worst,” he mumbled into your sweater before placing small kisses along your neck. 

“I know, baby.” You stroked his arms. “For the geniuses, they claim to be, they’re really hardheaded.”

“I feel like it’s just me they’re bothering with this. For all they know, you are single too.”

Another pang went through your chest. Bucky had not been part of the team for long. And you had spared him all of the details about most members that Steve hadn’t already told him about. 

There was a reason why Tony and Sam didn’t suggest eligible partners to you, and that was because you had multiple suitors amongst the team and beyond already. If you wanted to have someone, they just assumed you would get them. Not to mention the total embarrassment they had witnessed when you had rejected Pietro in front of the team during movie night. You hadn’t meant to, but he had sprung it upon you without warning, and you hadn’t wanted to lead him on. 

Then there was Peter, the intern, that harbored a silly schoolboy crush on you since he had gotten his first action figure of you, and letting him down gently was harder than you had thought. Tony and Sam, especially, had gotten amusement from the frequent serenades and suggestive fan mail you received. They even suggested an “open mail + wine night” for their personal entertainment one time. And, well, you didn’t say no to wine and gossip. 

But despite all this, it wasn’t the reason why you wanted to keep your relationship a secret. Bucky had been closed up from the very first time Steve introduced him to the team. It had taken two months for him to reply to simple questions such as if he wanted coffee, too. But somehow, you had the honor of being the first person he trusted after Steve. And once you had gotten to know him better, he was the sweetest person ever. Caring, funny, charming - very touchy. But you were scared this would go away once everyone started teasing him about it. So yes, it might have been to protect Bucky, but it felt more and more like personal gain to you. 

“I want you to know that I don’t need Yoga Brenda, or Coffeeshop Mandy, or anyone else. I just wanna tell them that I’m already dating the most gorgeous woman they could ever find.”

“You are wonderful, do you know that?” Your head leaned against his shoulder when you felt Bucky smile into the crook of your neck. “And I guess I could deal with a little more PDA - warm the team up to it slowly.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” And with that Bucky turned your chair and pulled you up and towards the bed. “Until then,” he patted his lap once he sat down, “I demand a kiss for every time I had to vouch for us.”

You smirked before straddling him. “Oh, I’ll gladly pay up, then.”

-❁-

You knew Bucky was touchy, but now that he had permission to do so outside your rooms, it lit a whole new fire within you. You couldn’t reach the cupboard? He would press up against you with a hand on your hip and get whatever item you needed. You walked through a door? You bet he would hold that thing open until you were all the way through. 

But those were just the, in his way, subtle approaches for when everyone was around. When the two of you happened to catch a quiet moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to hug and kiss you in every common area of the compound. 

You didn’t mind it too much - Bucky was a great lover all around. But you were still a little nervous as to what the team’s reaction would be. You had already gotten glimpses of it. A raised brow from Natasha, who really was just surprised it had gone past her for so long. A double take from Pietro when Bucky brushed an eyelash from your face. And a knowing smile from Wanda, who to be honest, had probably known all along - your thoughts weren’t exactly subtle... or PG.

Though you had yet to see Sam or Tony react to the increase in affection Bucky gave you. It wasn’t unusual that he asked you to train or make a joke - you were friends in everyone’s eyes. But it would become obvious if he kept up the thing he was doing right now. 

Bucky had just swiped some chocolate from your face in the kitchen, and when Clint had left the room, Bucky’s hand just lingered on your face. You were staring at him. And every time those eyes gazed into yours, it was hard to remember that there was a world around you. 

“I like this,” Bucky smirked when his thumb grazed over your cheek. His mouth followed shortly and soon he was stealing pecks from your soft lips.

“It is very nice,” you admitted flustered from the kisses, your hands now grabbing at his shirt. 

“See, it’s not so bad.”

You just hummed in response when Bucky patted your ass affectionately.

“Ahhh! What did I just see?” Sam’s eyes were wide, his head immediately snapping to Tony. You just sighed as you leaned against Bucky’s chest. It had to happen sooner or later...

“Holy smokes, Barnes. Had we known you got Miss Unattainable, we would have shut up a long time ago.” Tony whistled in acknowledgment before he approached the fridge and retrieved a water bottle.

Bucky just looked at you with a lazy smile, his hands rubbing up and down your back. It was nice not to hide anymore.

“What can I say?” He was looking into your eyes when he spoke. “She likes to keep me to herself.” And when you responded with a smile, he leaned in and kissed you shamelessly.

“Geez, get a room,” you heard Sam mumble gruffly. 

But all you could do was giggle as Bucky hid his smile in the crook of your neck, his scruff tickling your skin and the weight of the secret falling from your shoulders.

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[cybertronian-reader-imagines]

Your description says any continuity so I hope Earthspark is ok. Can we please get Megatron watching s/o be very soft and letting their guard down around the Terrans. Or maybe an after interaction maybe if you don’t wanna do a Megatron pov. Just some fluff really. I love soft autobot Megs.

SOFT MEGS SOFT MEGS!!!!! so yeah this ended up being a straight up fic welp

"Soft" wasn't a disposition that came easily for Megatron. 'After so many years of commanding respect by being made of stone', one might think, but truly warmth and kindness wasn't something he'd ever been taught to lose. Of course, Optimus was far more practiced at being kind than he was, but more often than not he also kept a certain distance as a leader, a representative of Cybertron for the people of Earth, a palpable beating spark but nevertheless one behind armor.

So how did you manage it?

He'd watch you play with the terrans like you were one of their own siblings... albeit with a little more common sense under your belt. Laughing and hugging and finding little moments to weave lessons into your words without ever seeming like you were talking down to them. Another bot might mistake it for naivete, but Megatron had known you - loved you - for aeons. He knew you'd seen almost as much darkness as he had (some by his own hand - he'd finally began to not let the guilt push you away, but he'd never fully forget that, never take your grace for granted) so how could you now be... like this?

"I'm relaxing because I never got to," you tell him when he finally finds the words to ask you outright. "The war is over. Yes, we're still picking up a few pieces, but I want this next generation to have peace. I...want to finally have peace."

And before he can overthink that, you gently take his hand in both of yours and lead him towards the others. "Peace with you, if you'll let me."

[uzurakis]

rin has a knack of having things on his mouth, oral fixation you might say. every time he eats ice cream, he nibbles with the wooden stick for at least 10 minutes until all of his teeth marks the surface and dent it through. maybe that could be another reason why whenever you both kissed, it’s going to be long. well, not like you would pull away too, right? he guides your mouth with ease, many times he doesn’t realize his tongue is tasting yours already, nipping down your lips with a gentle suck of his fangs. he doesn’t realize it, he won’t realize it

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 17

Description: It's a three-day weekend, so you go out dancing, run into Miguel, and Gabi does her own investigating.

Pt 18

You’re really not sure how you didn’t make the connection between Miguel and Spiderman before. They have the same build, similar voices, they do that same head tilt thing, and they call you cariño, along with a few other heart-stopping petnames.

“Y/N, y/n, earth to y/n.” Janey is waving her hand in front of your face, her bag on her shoulder.

You snap back to reality and scroll past the news footage of Spiderman saving a bus full of senior citizens. “Yeah, sorry, I’m listening.”

“Are you? Because Principal Alan just emailed us saying a water line broke, so school is canceled tomorrow, and I was trying to tell you about it.”

“Really? So, we get a three-day weekend?” You set down your phone, face down, so you aren’t tempted to pick it back up and obsessively search for more footage of Spiderman.

“Yeah, so I’m thinking we go out tonight?” Janey suggests a mischievous expression on her face.

“Oh no, no, are we going to one of those weird clubs where all the drinks aren’t called what they actually are, and the DJ wears a mask or something weird like that?”

Janey rolls her eyes playfully. “I take you to one speakeasy that’s a little weird—”

“A little? Janey, people were having sex just like, on the floor.”

“That is not usually a part of it, that was really weird.” Janey admits, giving you an apologetic smile. “But still, I know this new club, it’s really cool, and not weird at all.”

Janey is a liar. The club is super weird. All the employees are dressed in an odd sequined fabric, the drinks are dirt cheap, the DJ keeps switching up the songs halfway through, and the whole place is housed in an abandoned hospital.

“Janey, this place blows, can we please leave?” You shout over the music, trying to pretend you’re not grossed out by the couple making out on a decades old hospital bed.

“It’s an experience, y/n, just relax, have another drink, if the music doesn’t get better by the time, it’s midnight we’ll leave.”

You look at your phone, it’s eleven thirty now, you can tough it out for thirty more minutes.

“Okay, but you get my drink, and I’ll save our spot.”

Janey smiles and thanks you, then disappears into the crowd.

You sway to the music, watching the others around you. Everyone seems to be having a lot more fun than you. Then the song changes, the bass so loud you feel it in your chest.

Janey returns and hands you your drink. You both clink your plastic cups together and down them.

“Oh, that is so bad, ew, ew, ew, what the fuck was in that gasoline?” Janey crinkles her nose, coughing into her elbow.

Yours was pretty bad too, but you’re used to drinking shitty drinks from your time with Todd.

“Let’s just dance, I kind of like this song.” You say, holding your hands out to Janey and pulling her further into the crowd.

You leave the club right at midnight, pleasantly buzzed but not drunk, and you two share a cab back to your apartments, with Janey promising that next time she’ll pick a better place.

You wave goodbye and take the elevator up to your apartment, smoothing out your dress in the reflection on the doors. Tight, low cut, a gorgeous color, you love this dress because you just look so damn good in it.

Part of you wonders what Miguel would think of it. You toy with the idea of knocking on his door, pretending you need his help with something but think better of it. It’s midnight, Gabi is most definitely asleep, you don’t want to accidentally wake her up and have her see you in a clubbing outfit.

The elevator doors ding, you step out, and run straight into Miguel.

He looks you up and down, then cocks an eyebrow. “Night out?”

You try to subtly tug down your skirt. “Yeah, but it was kind of lame, so we left early.”

His eyes flicker behind you. “We?”

“Janey and I.”

He visibly relaxes and stretches his arms behind his head. “Can’t sleep, thought I’d go for a run.”

Your eyes drink in the bend of his arms, the flexing of his muscles through the long sleeves of his form fitting gray shirt.

You want him bad, so bad you start to open your mouth to say something you’ll blame on the alcohol flooding through your system, then you remember Gabi’s face. How she clung to you crying, how scared she was that you’d never come back.

You can’t mess this up, can’t throw yourself at Miguel just because he’s kind, smart, handsome, a good dad, and he eats pussy like a fucking champ. You have to be smart about this, it’s not just you and him, but you, him, and Gabi. And you will never do anything to hurt Gabi, and you’re sure neither would Miguel.

“That’s too bad, hopefully it’ll tire you out.” You say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes and steady your breathing.

“And what about you? Up for a run?” His voice dips low, and you know exactly what he’s asking.

“I can’t.” You say even as you scream internally, the parts of your brain fueled by lust cussing you out six ways to Sunday. “I’m so beat, and I’ve been drinking, it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Miguel scans you once more, then nods. “Take an Advil before you go to bed, I’m making you breakfast, I’ll see you at ten.”

You buffer for a moment. Is he asking you out on a date?

“If you’d like, no pressure.” He backtracks, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sheepish and nervous?

Is Miguel O’Hara nervous?

You step closer to him and brush your painted lips across his cheek, leaving a perfect imprint of your lips, the pink of your lipstick complimenting his tanned skin. “I’d like that. I’ll see you at ten.”

Then you slip into your apartment, flop down onto your couch, and scream into the nearest pillow.

“Lyla?”

“Yeah, Gabi?” Lyla pops into the room, her form dimmed to match the low light of her room.

“Is Papá here?”

“It looks like he’s in the hallway with y/n, do you want me to tell him you’re awake?” She’s sitting beside Gabi’s bed now, a concerned look on her face.

Gabi turns onto her back, staring up at the glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. “No, it’s okay.”

Lyla hums in response. “Anything else kiddo?”

“Can you see if Ms. Y/N is single?”

“Sure, one second.”

Gabi hugs her bear tighter as she waits.

“She is, and it looks like…oh, ya know what, maybe your dad should tell you this stuff.”

“Lyla, come on, I thought you were cool.” Gabi pouts, sitting up in her bed and staring at Lyla’s shifting form.

“Ugh, okay but, promise me you’ll tell your dad you heard about this on the news or something.”

“I promise.” Gabi says, rubbing at her eyes, sleep already pulling at her, beckoning her back to dreamland.

“Todd Jameson, twenty-six, found dead in the Brooklyn River. Apparently, he was pretty scratched up, but that was probably from the stuff that was in the river.” Lyla bites her lip then continues. “Anyways in other news, a water pipe burst in your school, so you get a three-day weekend! That’s super exciting, congrats, kiddo.”

“No school tomorrow, yay.” Gabi yawns and lays back down, snuggling closer to Oso.

“Yep, no school, so just get some sleep, okay? Don’t think about anything but how much fun you’re gonna have with your dad on this three-day weekend.” Lyla urges, her tone soft as Gabi drifts off to sleep.

“Promise me you’ll tell Papá that Ms. Y/N is single.” Gabi insists, fighting sleep like a wild honey badger.

“I will, I promise. Now sleep, three-day weekend.”

“Three day weekend.” Gabi whispers, her head drooping, and her breathing evening out as Lyla dissipates from the room.

Miguel checks his watch to see a message from Lyla.

You couldn’t have been any more subtle with his death, could you?

He chuckles and dons his suit. Looks like he needs to get rid of a body.

Posting this while I wait for my flight bc I couldn’t wait any longer to get it to y’all!!!!

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue

[huanted-dennys]

i find it funny that in tfp, megatron is such a big intimidating guy, he looks down on every one (either metaphorically or also physically) and it gives him an air of being powerful and unmovable

and than every once in awhile he’ll lean down to get a better look at soundwave’s mask, like a mom trying to read a meme ur showing her, i just think it’s funny that soundwave gets this dumbass to practically kneel too see what hes saying. doesn’t even tilt the visor up just feels salty like “no u tall mfer, get down here!”

[riaki]

— the warmth of a home | satoru gojo x reader jjk0 setting w/ coparent teen megumi

wc: 2.2k cw: petnames, established relationship, ur megs mother figure, reader is referred to as they but u wear perfume not proofread!!

this was just meant to be a weekday blurb like the last but oops it turned into a full fic mb

"i'm home!"

your voice rings out as you step through the threshold of your shared home, a gentle evening breeze ushering you in as you slip your shoes off sore feet and hang your well-worn jacket up, scented flowery perfume and sweet smelling cologne mingling on the thick fabric.

it's cold out; autumn is setting in, the crisp leaves that signal the arrival of fall collecting outside your doorstep as the late weeks of october wave goodbye and usher in the first days of november, followed by a drop in temperature and thin ice that begins to crust over any wet surface.

the small hallway leads into a wide, open living room, with a corner of couches and a worn tv that hasn't screened anything in ages. there's a fuzzy throw blanket hanging over one of the couch arms, knit with patterns of cute little dogs, stuck with tongues lolling happily from their mouths. a potted plant that's clinging on to a thin thread of life you can barely sustain on the days you remember to water it sits on the coffee table, bits of soil speckling the edge of the warm clay pot as the lights overhead cast a soft glow upon the ceramic. there's a pair of black socks strewn across the tabletop- you make a mental note to give their owner a good scolding and maybe a physical touch fast for the night once you find him.

you set your bag down by the door, stepping onto the wooden floor as your feet make soft thumping noises when you cross. two pairs of keen ears pick the sounds up almost instantly, coupled by two, equally loud voices that compete for your attention.

"ah, they're back! hope they brought takeou— ow! megumi, don't yank so hard." satoru's voice comes from the bathroom, a little ways down the hall decorated with polaroids and doodles. it's promptly followed by a curt, "sorry." the words bring a smile to your face; that irritatingly singsong voice you love so much coupled by megumi's aloof and quiet.

you make your way to the door, a warm glow flooding out of the crack before you push it open wide enough to peek your head, catching a glimpse of the scene unfolding on the other side as you stifle a laugh.

satoru is propped on the edge of the bathtub, hunched to make his frame somewhat smaller and the top of his head accessible to megumi as he faces the wall, while the latter fastens a section of loosely-trimmed cream bandages over satoru's eyes, all too tight that it begins to cut into his smooth skin. there's a grimace twisting his soft lips (you know they are from constantly running a thumb over them) pink glistening from moisture under the soft daisy yellow light. megumi's hands are far too tight as they grip the strip of bandage, forcing satoru's tufts of white hair into a disheveled mess.

at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, both of them whip their heads toward the door, megumi all but ditching the task before him as satoru hooks the bandages beneath his chin with one finger, expression softening into that lovesick grin that makes your heart pump faster against your ribcage.

"welcome back." megumi hums, straightening up to brush past you. a silent agreement passes between the two of you— you'll finish tying the bandages for satoru, while he gets some homework done.

"thank you, megs." you laughed, giving him a quick ruffle of his smooth dark hair as he bumps shoulders with you, slipping past and walking into the hallway with a disgruntled mumble at the touch. "go easy on this old man next time. i don't want to deal. with a child for the whole night," you called, stifling a laugh when you see the exaggerated hurt expression that finds its way onto satoru's face almost instantly.

a distant sound of acknowledgement from megumi finds your ears as you turn around to face your very mature and handsome husband, who's still hunched over the edge of the bathtub with his arms folded over his chest and a faux crossed expression on his face. you take a few steps towards him before you sit down on the tub beside him, legs turned out to make use of the space as you turn your head to get a good look. there's a pout on his lips, not giving an ounce of thought towards being subtle in a way that's so very him. his sparkling blue irises peek out from beneath his long lashes, the color of the clouds in the sky that slowly begin to paint pale under the shine of the setting sun.

"hey, satoru. what's got you looking so down?" you chuckled, scooting closer on the cold rim of the tub to reach out. your fingers card through his hair and you almost swoon at the way he leans into your touch, like a cat chasing for chin scratches. you push the mess of hair from his eyes to press a lazy, slow kiss to his forehead, bumping into his side. as soon as your fingers touch the first square inch of hair on his head, his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you close like he's done so many times before.

"you're so mean to me, pretty. did you call me old?" he whines, the corner of his lips downturned as he buried his head in your shoulder for a moment before pulling away to stare down at you imposingly. you only sighed, stroking his hair as you watch his lips curve up in a poorly smothered grin, cocky and smug in a way that he knows makes you want to kiss away until only a little awestruck gape remains in its wake.

"of course not, 'toru. you know i love you too much to curse you with wrinkles." you hummed, taking in the sweet look on his face dusted rosy as he looks at you.

"i should hope so," he grins, and in one swift motion, you find yourself tucked flush to his chest on his lap, one of his hands snaking up your arm to pull you close as he catches your lips with his in a sweet motion he's been anticipating since the last clingy smooch this morning. he tastes like the candy you hid away in the cabinet in an attempt to stop his sweet tooth from plowing through the time before his next dentist appointment, and you add it to your mental list of things to reprimand him for.

for now, though, you let yourself indulge- let your hand trail up his chest and around his neck, feeling his pulse beneath your thumb as you lean into him with a sigh of contentment. he's warm, familiar, and stable in a way that you've only ever found comfort in, and he's fully aware of the effect he has on you when he pulls away, puckered lips pecking your cheeks with unrestrained affection as you laugh and bat him away.

he soaks in the moment for a bit until he speaks again, with a heave and a sigh that makes him seem far too worn out for a 27 year old. "help me out, love." he sighs, motioning toward the loose bandage around his neck that threatens to slip any moment. your hands are already moving when he speaks, taking up the bunch of fabric in your fingers to push his hair back and fasten it around his eyes. you mourn a little over the loss of the sight-- his pretty blue eyes tucked away behind a wall of necessity, hidden away from the world. your shoulders sink a little and you melt into him some as you finish tying the knot, making sure it's securely fasten before you move your hands away.

you're caught mid-motion, though- his hand shoots up to grab your wrist gently, thumb gently prodding at your pulse as he tilts his head into your other hand.

"'toru? what are you doing?" you asked softly, staring down at him from your vantage point in his lap.

"baby," he starts slowly, other hand snaking around your waist to press against the small of your back, warm and steady as he presses you close to him. "do you love me?"

you're surprised. most of the time, he never broaches the area of emotions out of the blue—it's an area of vulnerability he's still not quite ready for; not quite healed enough to approach. and you understand, so you never push him to talk.

"of course i do. that's why i'm here." you reminded him, gaze snagging on the way his teeth catch his lip and chew nervously. a fleeting thought enters your mind, and for a second you almost think he might put up infinity.

it's quiet for a moment, then, and you take the moment to size him up, appraising as the light from the window above filters in, framing his face in some sort of angelic light. he really looks ethereal, you think to yourself.

then, the silence is broken.

"enough to buy me takeout?" he offers sheepishly, all apprehension vanishing as that easy smile creeps over his lips again and he clasps your hands in his, lithe and calloused fingers enveloping yours to dot your wrist and knuckles with little kisses.

you blinked, before rolling your eyes, laughing that sweet laugh he only ever teased to hear from you as you wriggled free from his grasp, sliding off his lap and standing up again before he could trap you in a hug again.

"no, satoru. but i'll make dinner with megumi and save some for when you get back. does that sound good?" you offered, looking down at him expectantly.

he smiles at that, swinging his legs over the tub to stand as well. he's tall, almost comically so— looking quite out of place under the fluorescent lights amidst pastel shampoo bottles. your eyes drift to the sink, where two bristly toothbrushes are tucked in the same cup, and you smile.

"anything made by you is great, sweetheart." he says with a cheeky grin, reveling in the soft flush that stains your face as he walks closer, cupping your face in one hand and leaning down to kiss the side of your head affectionately. he catches a whiff of your perfume, and his smirk only widens. before he can do further, though, someone clears their throat from the other side of the door, and you turn around to catch sight of a head of spiky black hair, an unamused look on his face as megumi eyes the two of you.

"why are you still here?" he sniffs, peering up at satoru with a frown. the latter just chuckles, reaching over to aggressively mess with his hair, leaving it even more disheveled and out of place as an angry protest leaves megumi. satoru skirts just out of reach of an irritated jab, throwing what you think is some sort of charming wink from beneath his white bandages at the two of you.

"seeya, love. hold the fort down while i'm gone." he calls, already halfway to the door. his steps echo in your ear as you just smile, opening the bathroom door and stepping into the hallway as megumi slides up to your side, a sour expression tugging at his lips. "don't let the rascal upset our haven." said rascal makes a face.

"be safe," you said softly, hoping he caught your unspoken wishes in those two words. judging by the way he paused at the door before hurrying back to your side to pepper you with four departing kisses— one on either cheek, the tip of your flushed nose, and on your lips-- he took the caution to heart.

"you're so cute when you worry, love." he chuckled, his laugh like a spring of rejuvenating running water that filled you with life. he took a moment to take you in again— hair slightly messy from the wind whistling outside, the tips of your ears a pleasant red and a look in your eyes he could only describe as adoration.

"don't worry. i'll always come back to you."

and with that, he was gone.

not for long, though. eventually, he'd return home to a lone kitchen light flicked on, spreading warmth onto the table below. he'd come home to the same heart-warming scene he had so many times before— slipping his bandages down his face, taking his jacket off to spread it from one of your shoulders to megumi's— you'd fallen asleep together with the window open, a chilling evening breeze filtering in as the pages of megumi's homework fluttered in the wind, frustrated scribbles smudged against the crinkled paper underneath his elbows as he slept. you were by his side, too— cozy and exhausted, soft little breaths leaving your lips every now and then. times like this brought him a simple joy; the happiness of having a home to come back to, a family with handmade dinner gone cold on the table as it waited for him, a trio who could support one another and provide the love that each person had been missing.

there would never be anything he'd want more than this simplicity.

he ends up dumping megumi on the couch before carrying you bridal style towards your shared bedroom.

extra: u and megumi cook pasta tgt :3

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize!

[perfectfeelings]

You know. Life’s short. If you don’t try new things, you’ll never know what you’re best at. And you can only make time or new things by quitting the things you know don’t work for you.

Meg Cabot

[perfectquote]

You know. Life’s short. If you don’t try new things, you’ll never know what you’re best at. And you can only make time or new things by quitting the things you know don’t work for you.

Meg Cabot

[surqrised]

It’s funny how you can go for a long time in life not needing someone, and then you meet them and you suddenly need them all the time.

Meg Wolitzer, Belzhar