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writeyouin · 29 days ago

Note

Oo I got something for TFO

If possible would you be open to doing a human s/o with D-16? Like the human came from another planet that was destroyed and they got stranded on Cybertron and somehow managed to end up in Iacon city?

D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 1 of 2

A/N – This is so much longer than I thought it would be. I think it may be the most fun, silly fic I’ve ever written and I am so happy that I got to write it. Also, SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE TRANSFORMERS ONE MOVIE IN THE FINAL SEGMENT!

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

It was all Orion’s fault. Everything that was likely to get D-16 in trouble was his fault. It was always, ‘Hey, what if we searched the tunnels for something even more valuable than energon?’ Or ‘You want to come into the archives with me? Of course, I have a permit. It’s not like I would try breaking in… again.’

This time, the line that was sure to get D-16 into trouble was, “Hey bud, don’t tell anyone but I got us a pet!”

D-16 rubbed his helm exasperatedly, “A pet, Pax! Why can’t you just obey the rules for once.”

“Hey, there are no rules against keeping pets,” Orion said excitedly, heading over to his locker to retrieve the creature in question.

“Of course there aren’t! Because no one would be stupid enough to keep one!”

“You just haven’t seen it yet. It’s really cute.”

“I hope your spark eater tears off your face, Pax. I really do,” D-16 deadpanned.

“Not a spark eater,” Orion chuckled, then he began whispering into his locker, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya, little cutie. That’s it, settle down now.”

D-16 shook his head, “You’re gonna get demoted all the way down to the 40th sub-level and when you do, I’m not gonna save your sorry aft. Besides Pax, there isn’t enough energon to go around as is. How’re you gonna feed a pet?”

“That’s the thing,” Orion said eagerly. “It doesn’t fuel up on energon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of thing doesn’t need energon?” D-16 asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him as he tried to peek over Orion’s shoulder at the so-called ‘pet’ he was trying to grab.

He heard some scrabbling, Orion said some more soothing words and then Orion turned around, holding a creature half his size around the waist in both servos.

“D-16, meet our new pet, Minitronus.”

“Minitronus!” D-16 said excitedly. He knew Orion had only picked the name to foster his attachment and ensure that he kept the creature a secret.

D-16 got close to Orion’s pet, resting his hands on his thighs as he bent down. “Whoa, what is it?”

“C’mon D-16. If you don’t know, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“You have no idea, do you.”

“Not a one.”

The creature chittered angrily, pushing at Orion’s servos.

“It looks angry,” D-16 observed.

“It’s just getting used to us. That’s all.”

Orion began stroking at the creature’s head.

“Okay Pax,” D-16 said, resigning himself to Orion’s crazy new pet, as he knew he would from the start. “C’mon then. Tell me all about it. What does it eat? Where’d you find it? And most importantly, how’re we going to keep it a secret?”

“Hey! I said HEY! YOU UP THERE! STOP PETTING ME! I’M NOT AN ANIMAL, YOU BIG DUMB IDIOT!”

The giant metal man smiled at you affectionately, opening his mouth to say something you couldn’t understand. It all sounded like scraping metal and electrical noises and you couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Ever since the Quintessons had abducted you, your life had been nothing but trouble. You were their prisoner but when they found out your planet had nothing of worth, they decided it would be better to experiment on you. The only consolation was that you could at least understand the Quintessons, who had multiple translator devices on their ship.

You were very fortunate that the Quintessons didn’t view you as a threat since they didn’t bother keeping you in any kind of high-security prison and so you managed to escape before they did anything too terrible. The worst you suffered were a few zaps from a weak cattle prod, probably testing your nervous system.

Yet, having escaped the Quintesson ship, you had landed yourself into deeper trouble. You had found yourself on a living metal planet, and though a few plants grew on the ever-transforming surface, the pocket computer you had stolen from your captors informed you they were poisonous.

Fortunately, you had thought a few things through regarding your escape. You had managed to grab a backpack, stuffing it full of provisions and interesting gadgets. The food was stored in dehydrated cubes so with proper care, it could last you months, maybe even an entire year. The backpack also contained a device to keep you warm, a cube that turned into a forcefield when thrown to the ground, and most importantly one of the translators that had allowed you to understand the Quintessons along with a few other gadgets.

However, despite your planning, things hadn’t gone very well for you. After touching down on the planet, you boarded a train that you hoped would take you to civilisation, and while it did take you to a city underground that was more beautiful and advanced than you could imagine, it was clear that the alien life-forms there had never seen an organic creature before.

The few you tried to talk to initially screamed as if you were vermin and tried to blast, stab, and crush you in succession. As you scrambled for your life, you took a kick to the back, saved by your pack which had broken your much-needed translator.

You ran and hid, keeping out of sight and soon you started feeling like the vermin the metal people viewed you as. You learned quickly to keep out of sight and made your way to where there were fewer bots, spending many quiet hours either sleeping in vents or trying to repair your translator with the limited knowledge you had.

Yet, your luck couldn’t last forever and eventually, you ran into a vent that turned out to be a transportation tunnel to and from the mines. It was there that Mr Big-Red-Idiot-Bot caught you and took you to the charging bays. At first, you thought your luck was turning around and that he was going to take you to someone who would be able to understand you since he was obviously trying to be gentle with you. Then it became clear that he just thought you were some kind of stupid animal in need of care and he adopted you as his pet.

“What are these things?” D-16 asked, gently lifting your top.

You slapped at his servo, swearing at him even though he couldn’t understand you. Orion laughed, “I don’t know, but that’s how it reacted to me too. I think they’re to keep it warm. Either way, it doesn’t like it when you touch them. Oh, and hey, check this out, it does tricks.”

Orion shoved you back into his locker where your bag was. You ran to your pack, hurriedly grabbing your broken translator and showing it to the new grey bot. You had tried repeatedly showing it to Big Red, but he didn’t get what you were trying to do and always just laughed at you.

“What’s it holding?” D-16 asked.

“Playing with some scrap metal. Isn’t that cute? It has a favourite toy! I think Minitronus might have belonged to someone else once because it has all these adorable toys in there and it can make its own fuel.”

You sighed. Clearly, the grey bot was no better than Big Red, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill you. You shook your head and began searching your pack for some tools to repair the translator. Upon seeing you grab a screwdriver, Orion took it from you.

You yelled a few more insults, demanding it back but Orion just teased you, holding it just out of reach.

“Aww does Minitronus want the toy? Do you? Do you? That’s it, reach for the toy. Grab it.” He cooed.

D-16 rolled his eyes, amused by both Orion and his new pet. He snatched the miniature ‘toy’ screwdriver from his friend, handing it back to you. “Don’t tease it, Orion.”

You nodded gratefully at D-16 and he ruffled your hair. This time, you didn’t bother insulting him since he had given you what you wanted.

The work alarm went off overhead and Orion slammed his locker shut just in time for the influx of workers to come through the shared stasis bunker on their way to work. D-16 tried to fight against the crowd to stay by the locker but Orion pulled him into the fray, muttering that it would look suspicious if he wasn’t at work on time.

“But what about- Will it be okay in there?” D-16 whispered as they headed into the lift.

“Sure,” Orion said from the corner of his mouth, trying to be quiet. “It’s been in there for days and it's been fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now be quiet and act normal.”

D-16 smiled and gave a small awkward wave to a bot in front of him who was observing the pair with a raised optical ridge. Over the years, Orion had caused more than his share of trouble so D-16 was used to the scrutinising looks from others, though he always got nervous when they both had something to hide.

You sighed and rested your hands on your hips. It was awful being constantly stuffed in a locker, especially since Big Red didn’t seem to think things through. He shoved you in your new ‘home’ whenever other bots were around or when he went to the lift which you assumed meant he was working. The problem with that was that his species didn’t tire easily and could work a very long time, and with this being what you could only assume was the poorer part of the city, there were always other bots around. You had to get your translator fixed quickly, or else you would spend the rest of your life in the locker. Still, things weren’t all bad. It was warm and safe. You often used your backpack as a pillow, sleeping through the first few hours before getting back to your repair work. You had privacy and a personal collapsable service suite that pulled moisture from the air so you could drink or shower - it even took care of your waste by vaporising it; alien inventions sure were convenient. Besides, now the other bot knew about you too, and perhaps he could help you. Resignedly, you set about keeping to your normal routine and began some light repair work, too awake to rest now. You only wished you knew what you were doing and that you had even the faintest idea on how to fix alien technology; your life depended on it.

Orion and D-16 were the first up and out of the elevator, avoiding the usual crowds by skipping the last few minutes of work with a lame excuse about being called upstairs. Honestly, the pair got into so much trouble they were often called up to meetings with higher-ups for tellings-off, which Orion usually tried to talk his way out of, and so nobody so much as batted an optic when they left.

Upon getting up to their quarters, Orion and D-16 were both relieved to see that the rotation team had already filed out, presumably having taken one of the other lifts to a different mine. Orion ran to his locker and hurled it open.

“Aww, look,” He pulled D-16 close to get a good look at you. “Minitronus is recharging. Hey, do you think it’s dreaming of us? Pets do that, right? Dream of their owners?”

“I mean, if Minitronus is thinking of me, that’s a dream. If it’s you, it’s a nightmare.”

Orion elbowed D-16 in the chassis then reached in to grab you.

D-16 pulled him back, “Whoa hey, don’t wake it.”

“We have to. It’s time for walkies and this is the only time we can get out of here quietly before the others catch up.”

Reluctantly, D-16 let Orion go.

You jolted awake, terrified until you remembered where you were and that you were now the ‘pet’ of an advanced alien. You settled groggily in his arms, wondering what he was going to do with you now.

He proffered you some words that sounded like two lawnmowers smashing together, but by his expression, you could tell he was happy. Then he jostled you, miming something you couldn’t understand until it was too late.

You scowled at Big Red with your arms folded, too insulted to even try yelling as he tugged you along an empty alley on your new wire lead.

This was a new low.

“I don’t think Minitronus likes walkies,” D-16 commented as you dug your heels into the floor, trying to hold your ground.

“Nonsense,” Orion said, trying to be gentle as he pulled at your lead, making you stumble forward, “It’s just not used to it yet.”

D-16 patted his thighs, “C’mon Minitronus. That’s it. Here Minitronus. Minitronus.”

After a few more attempts, you realised that the gentle electrical hum Grey kept repeating must be his name for you. Huh… Well, at least the repetition meant they had a stable language.

You listened again and tried to mimic the sound, making both bots pause to look at you.

“Did it just…?” D-16 asked, pointing at you.

You mimicked the sound again.

“It did,” Orion agreed. He ran over to pick you up, spinning you in his arms, “Who’s a smart Minitronus, huh? Yes, you. You are!”

Although your mimicry had been good, it wasn’t quite enough to convince them that you were sentient. Rather, they were looking at you like a parrot who had picked up a new phrase. Instead of repeating your name, you had managed a babyish mumbling somewhere close, that sounded more like Mini–Tron.”

D-16 beamed and petted your head, quickly coming to love his new pet. Orion was right, it was smart and cute.

“That’s so cool, I wonder if we can teach it more words.”

“I’m definitely teaching it swears,” Orion laughed.

Eventually, the pair headed back to the underground, with Orion heading in first, making sure everyone was recharging, before signalling for D-16 to follow with you.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t put me back in the locker,” You whined as you were placed on the top shelf.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” D-16 begged, listening to you pitchy chittering. He held a digit to his lips, shushing.

“You two will be gone for ages, what between sleeping and working, and it’s dark in there,” You continued, even though he couldn’t understand you.

You only stopped talking when he held you against his chassis, petting your head. You sighed in understanding. He was trying to keep you safe; this was all for your own good.

‘Okay,’ You thought, feeling strangely comforted by Grey’s actions. ‘If this is how it has to be for now… Okay.’

Orion gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to D-16, glad that he had managed to keep your mewls under control.

“Goodnight, Minitronus,” Orion whispered before shutting the door.

“We love you,” D-16 added.

You shook your head after the door shut; life was going to be interesting with those two.

“PAX!” Elita-One shouted, jetpacking up the empty elevator shaft to catch up with Orion and D-16 who had stolen away from work early for the third time that week.

Orion held you behind his back, hiding you just in time before Elita got in his face.

“Captain, what a surprise!” Orion grinned cheekily, already trying to smooth-talk his way out of the situation. “Me and D-16 were just saying what a great and wonderful leader you-”

“Can it, Pax!” Elita glowered. “I’ve had just about enough of you. It’s bad enough that you’re a troublemaker but now, you’re dragging D-16 down with you and- what’s behind your back?”

“My back? Nothing at all,” Orion shoved you into D-16’s open arms, and he in turn hid you behind his leg, trusting that you wouldn’t run away if he wasn’t holding you.

Elita grabbed hold of Orion, slamming him into the lockers, her eyes narrowing when she didn’t see anything worth hiding. She glared at D-16 who held up his servos in a shrug, gesturing to Pax who was already babbling about how strong she was and how no other Captain had had the strength to throw him so hard.

While Pax created a distraction and Elita-One continued her tirade against him, D-16 shuffled backwards, sneaking you out for your daily walk.

You had grown used to the routine now, learning the building’s alarms that marked the beginning or end of a shift. When it was coming time for Orion or D-16 to take you out, you always hitched on your backpack, just in case you needed anything, though you had long since learned not to work on your translator in front of Big Red, since he kept assuming it was a toy and continually threw it for you to fetch. Honestly, he was doing even more damage to the already broken machine, and it stressed you out constantly whenever you were forced to catch it before it hit the ground.

When you and Grey were alone, you always did repair work at the end of a walk, since he would take you somewhere quiet to rest for a while.

You had been living with the pair for just over two months now and in that time a few things of note had happened.

First, they had entrusted knowledge of you to a few of the others in their ‘platoon’ or whatever the group they worked in was called. This had happened after an incident wherein you had escaped your locker to explore and a silver and blue bot with a passion for dance stumbled into you and squealed. Big Red, and Grey hurried to your rescue and had to explain their ‘pet’ to him.

This led to you being the worst kept secret in the mining facility, though it was bound to happen eventually with so many bots living in close quarters. However, all the mining bots found you sweet enough and they all had a code of honour that meant they kept you secret from anyone with authority like Elita-One or any of the other captains.

Yet, while everyone knew about you and you were generally allowed out of the locker most of the time, it was still only Orion or D-16 who took you out, and they still tried to get out of work a tad early to check on you.

One of the other changes in your life was the delivery of a big bundle of wires as ‘toys.’ That was another word you had learned to mimic since Orion kept bringing you play-things and repeating the Cybertronian equivalent.

This happened after you kept picking up pieces of scrap wire on walks, taking them with you so you could use them in your repair work. At first, Orion and D-16 took them off you, afraid you would hurt yourself somehow, but when you kept collecting them and fought hard to keep the few you had, they assumed it must be a normal nesting behaviour and brought you a great deal more than you needed.

You were delighted with the gifts and hugged both bots for it. Then, after saving the few you needed for your translator, you weaved the extra wires into a new over-shirt. It was uncomfortable, but quite practical since your jumper was wearing away and you needed a new one to keep decent when you were washing your actual shirt.

Another problem to occur was your hair. In your time with the bots, it had grown very long, and much to your bemusement, Orion had tried cutting it. The whole thing had gone disastrously, and you suddenly understood those dogs that got terrible haircuts because they tried to escape their groomers; you could only be thankful that the bald patch was beginning to grow back.

The final change was Grey’s idea. He felt confident that you were well trained since you now responded to your name, paying attention when you were called through the miners’ hab-suite. Because of your actions, he often let you off-lead, which you were immensely grateful for. He rarely put the lead back on you unless he thought something was unsafe, so whenever it went on now, you clambered onto his shoulder, trusting that he would take you home and away from danger quickly.

It wasn’t a perfect life, but things were slowly improving. You could only hope that your lucky streak didn’t break and that you would be able to communicate your needs fully before the year was up.

D-16 sighed, sitting on the side of a tall building overlooking the city with you in his lap. You were content to let him pet you while you toyed with your translator. You went in an almost trance-like state whenever you tinkered with it now, honestly not expecting anything to come of it but needing to work all the same.

He continued speaking in his gentle, rhythmic noises and you hummed as if you understood, pressing a wire down with the flat of your screwdriver.

“- and that’s why I know what we’re doing is important. Even Sentinel says so. Us miners, we’re keeping Cybertron alive,” D-16 said proudly.

“Who’s Sentinel?” You asked absentmindedly.

D-16 screamed, accidentally throwing you off his lap.

“Hey, be careful!” You scolded. “You could have dropped me over the edge.”

You picked up your translator and brushed yourself off.

“Minitronus, you’re talking!” D-16 accused.

“Yeah, well so…are… Oh my God, I did it!” You breathed. Then you punched the air excitedly, “I DID IT!”

“WHAT IS GOING ON? HOW ARE YOU TALKING?!”

“I fixed my translator,” You squealed ecstatically, waving it in front of D-16.

“Your- Your toy?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, practically bouncing on the spot.

“This is impossible. You- You’re our pet!”

“No. Not a pet. Not anymore. I’m (Y/N). Okay, (Y/N),” You repeated your name slowly, trying to get it through to Grey who still looked panicked.

“Primus, this is insane.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You’ve got to explain everything to me, right now.”

“Okay, sit down,” You patted the ledge.

D-16 did so, and you jumped back into his lap.

“What’re you doing? You can’t sit there now. You’re not an animal.”

“Hey,” You pushed against his servo, staying stubbornly in place, “I’m not going back on that ledge, I could fall.” “Fine,” D-16 relented. He went to pet your head again then stopped himself, keeping his servos stiffly by his sides. “As long as you explain yourself, you can sit wherever you want.”

Having told D-16 everything and had him explain a few things in return, things thankfully changed. Initially, things between you and all of the mining bots were awkward, with haunted comments from some of the bots like, ‘It saw me in the wash racks,’ or ‘I can’t believe I tried to rub its belly… No wonder it slapped me. Oh. Oh no.’

Once everyone got used to the idea, your life improved. You were still kept secret since none of the miners knew how the higher-ups would react to an alien species, but with some ingenuity and a few favours exchanged for information about your species and planet, they all came together to transform your locker into a proper living space, complete with all the amenities they could manage to scrape together. They even began forming a plan to try and have you off-planet and en-route somewhere you could survive before your supplies would run out.

After D-16 and Orion were over the weirdness, you still had them take you on your daily excursions, sans the lead since you were no longer their pet. Orion managed to laugh about the whole thing, but D-16 grew to be even more strained around you. However, you didn’t get to ask him about it till you were next alone with him, which was a long time afterwards.

“So… Do you hate me now?” You asked him one day while he walked a few paces ahead of you, keeping an eye out for anyone who he would need to hide you from.

“What?” D-16 sputtered. “I- I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” You smiled easily. “It’s a strange situation.”

D-16 felt his insides squeeze. He had held onto you while you slept. At the time, he thought you were cute. Now though… You were still cute when you slept, but it was a different kind of cute – Softer, somehow.

“I told you everything,” He sighed, defeatedly. “My life, my dreams, my fears.” He shook his head, continuing mournfully, “And you didn’t understand any of it.”

“Not true,” You contradicted, running to stand in front of him.

He watched you warily.

“I might not have known what you were saying, but I did understand you. Your tone, expressions, the sound of your voice. I understood more than you think.”

D-16’s spark pulsed.

“Let’s go home,” He said quickly, turning on his heel and walking away from you.

The two of you had to go where you wouldn’t be alone or things would change again.

D-16 was falling in love with you and he couldn’t let that happen. There were too many unknowns and he had his planet to think about. He was a miner – the life force of his planet. That’s what Sentinel Prime always said, and work came first.

Besides, you weren’t going to be on Cybertron forever. You couldn’t be. Once your supplies ran out, that would be it for you.

D-16 couldn’t get attached. It wasn’t like you were a pet anymore. You didn’t belong to him, even if he wanted you to.

You ran through the destruction of Iacon City, terrified by everything that was happening. Honestly, you had missed most of the events leading up to it, having been stuck in Sentinel’s tower, but you had seen the so-called Prime torture and brand D-16.

Afterwards, you tried to find him or Orion, but you were small and Iacon was big and the city was collapsing around you.

You screamed as you were grabbed seemingly from nowhere and looked up to see D-16, though he looked slightly different thanks to the new infusion of Megatronus’ T-Cog which you hadn’t seen him take from Sentinel’s corpse. Also, there was one other change – his angry red optics, which bore into you.

“D-16,” You shouted, “What’s going on? Where’s Orion?”

“Orion is dead,” He growled. Though he had made a promise that nobody else would be deceived, you needed to hear that lest you side with Orion over him. Besides, it wasn’t a lie. Orion was dead – Dead, and replaced by Optimus Prime. “And my name is Megatron.”

“Orion- Orion’s dead,” You repeated, too shell-shocked to even cry at the moment.

“Yes,” Megatron glossed over your emotions, far too focused on his rage as he transformed around you, keeping you safe inside his alt-mode. “And we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“To war!”

Yet, even as Megatron burned with hatred and his desire to bring down the corruption that fuelled his planet, he was already reading the intel sent by the disgraced High Guard, informing him of several nearby planets where you would be able to get the organic fuel you required to stay online.

Megatron had lost everything. He was not about to lose his beloved pet too. You were his, and you always would be.

A/N - Hey, I worked really hard on this so please comment, or at the very least reblog. Likes aren't enough anymore guys, they just aren't.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf one #transformers one #d 16 #orion pax #elita one #megatron #optimus prime #d-16 #d 16 x reader #megatron x reader #The Creature From Another World #part one #chapter one

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cowboy1ikereid · 24 days ago

Text

sweet creature ~ s.r.

‘Wherever I go, you bring me home’

Summary: Spencer calls you when he’s missing home.

Warnings: pregnant!reader x husband!spencer, reader is in her second pregnancy and they already have a 3 y/o daughter, spencer is, again, a huge softie, calls you sweetheart, he's called away on an urgent case and misses you, reader is almost in third trimester, they fall asleep on the phone, cuties, inspired by sweet creature by harry styles, fluff and comfort

Category: Fluff x Comfort

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: Spencer Reid deserved to get married and have children but he has to be a girl dad and I don't make the rules. I just know he would be the most sweet, caring and loving husband/dad in the world. Anyways I kind of had to do something to this song because I saw it live (Wembley N4 I’ll miss you forever). Enjoy!!

You were exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Being 7 and a half months pregnant and taking care of your 3 year old daughter alone had never been part of the plan. In fact, Spencer was supposed to be working either in office or from home during the later stages of your pregnancy, but a serious case meant that he was needed urgently by the BAU. With only 8 hours notice he was in Florida, and suddenly he was approximately 920.4 miles away from you.

It was around 9pm, and you’d been eagerly awaiting a phone call from your husband. You’d blame your anxiety on the hormones, but you knew it wasn’t just that. You’d always been like this whenever he was away, and you never quite managed to properly adjust to how much travelling his job required. Lizzie, your daughter, was laid next to you in the bed you and Spencer shared, asleep on his side of the bed. She was the same as you whenever her dad was away, even if she didn’t quite understand his job. She was a daddy’s girl, and if sleeping on Spencer’s side of the bed helped her to feel that little bit closer to him when he was away, you would let her. Her curly light brown hair was sprawled across the pillow which she drooled on, unconscious.

Your phone was on silent so the ringer didn’t wake her up, but as soon as you felt the persistent buzzing and Spencer’s name appeared on the screen, you stood, stretching slightly before leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind you, simultaneously swiping the button to answer the call.

“Hi.” You whispered softly, cautious not to wake up your sleeping three-year-old who was in the next room.

“Hi sweetheart. How are you?” Spencer’s sweet voice spoke over the phone.

“Hanging on. I managed to settle Lizzie after she cried because you couldn’t tuck her in tonight.. Little one has been quiet for now, but I just know that she’ll start getting active as soon as I attempt to sleep.” You spoke with a soft smile on your face at the thought of the little life growing inside of you whilst you tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room, sitting down on the sofa with a hand on your round bump, rubbing it gently.

You heard Spencer sigh over the phone. “I miss you. I saw the three of you this morning and it feels like I haven’t seen you in months.” He chuckled. Spencer was alone in his hotel room, and it felt strangely quiet. Unfamiliar. If Spencer was home, you’d be asleep in his arms by now, your soft snores echoing in the darkness of your bedroom. Pregnancy was tiring, after all. But you struggled to sleep without each other, and you knew that. Your house may as well have been cold and empty to you without him there. Your house wasn’t your home. Spencer was, and you knew that he felt the same way about you. That was why he’d called.

“Any new symptoms? At around the seven month mark, you should expect to experience some shortness of breath, discomfort which may lead to difficulty moving, frequent urination, lightheadedness caused by the baby putting pressure on your blood vessels which can slow blood flow, fatigue-” He began to reel off pregnancy symptoms until he was cut off by your sleepy laugh.

“Spence, you’ve been gone for less than a day. You don’t have to worry about me. I feel the same as I did earlier.” You giggled.

“And that is?” He questioned. You could picture him furrowing his eyebrows, and the thought of it made your heart warm.

“Achey, tired, like a whale, hungry..” You listed, and you already knew he was going to give you advice on how to deal with your symptoms. He’d done more than enough research on pregnancy when JJ was first pregnant with Henry, and since then he’d unexpectedly found himself helping a woman give birth on a case.

“You need to rest. It’s late and that’s one of the only things that could help with your symptoms right now apart from physical activity, but I doubt you’d want to do any exercise at the moment,” He instructed, and you knew that he was being serious, even with his light tone. You’d think that you’d know more about pregnancy than Spencer, with you being mid-way through your second pregnancy, but he knew everything. Whilst anybody else might have been surprised by that, you weren’t. He’d done extensive research on the topic, after all, and he continued to. “And I can also guarantee you that you don’t look like a whale.” He added, and you could hear his smile in his voice.

“That’s what you think. I can hardly move, and when I do I waddle. I waddle, Spencer!” You pouted, and you could hear him laugh.

“Well I’m sure you look beautiful whilst you waddle.” He teased.

After a few quiet conversations between the two of you, 9pm turned to 11:30pm, and you could feel your mind wanting to drift off as your conversations slowly turned into Spencer spouting off random facts whilst you listened, his voice soothing you as though he was there with you. You decided to go back upstairs and tuck yourself into bed whilst he talked, placing your phone on the nightstand. He wasn’t really next to you, but it was close enough. You knew Lizzie wouldn’t wake up between Spencer’s soft words, the low volume your phone was on and her tendency to be a heavy sleeper. However, Spencer soon realised you were responding to him less and less.

“Sweetheart?” He said quietly, and you hummed in response, already drifting off. “Do you want me to hang up?” He asked, and your eyes snapped open. “No. Uh, I mean, I’d like it if you could just… stay on the line.” You said quietly, and he understood what you meant.

“Of course,” He responded, “Good night. I love you.” He said, and you said it back.

Soon enough, you fell asleep, and if he closed his eyes, he could picture you there next to him, your soft snores echoing around his hotel room. That was all he needed to relax, and Spencer soon found himself drifting off to sleep, feeling like he was at home. Feeling like he was with his home.

You brought him home.

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akoiromanticstudent · 1 year ago

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#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #writing #writeblr #autism creature #fanfic authors #ao3 authors

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chiliger · 6 months ago

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Oh my god, it’s Cody with a chair!

Woo! Fan comic of @frostbitebakery ‘s Zombi-Wan fanfic: “Who Ordered the Resurrection Special” 💫💫💫 It’s a fun read, highly recommend.

#chiligerart #comic #frostbitebakery #commander cody #commander wolffe #obi wan kenobi #codywan #star wars #fanfic fanart #now how can anyone blame cody for trying to defend the handsome zombie? who i ask #jango at cody’s funeral; leaning close to the casket: see this is what happens when you want to date people #had this on the back burner for a few months but finally got around to it!#kinda wish I did better on the monster but creature design is not my forte

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alvivaarts · 3 months ago

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They're so- (screaming shrieking sobbing) everything.

Thinking about the long term/ending of Simulation Swarm (and the little self indulgent Not A Lot Just Forever) (Flat colors and closeups below!)

Buy me a coffee or Comm me on Ko-Fi

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chickinu · 10 months ago

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creature!sif AU

Hello howdy, I am here to share an ISAT AU where Siffrin is a weird lil creature who disguises his "monstrous" features and tries to be a hooman and such!

I've shared this in the ISAT discord server already and was not prepared for so many people to like it as much as they did so I thought I'd put my startup exploratory sketches here

Someone also made a fanfic already of this AU and that just boggles my mind, (if ya wanna read it for yourself, its on AO3 called " scales and feathers, tails and tethers") but is also pushing me to make more cause there's still more ideas I have that I haven't drawn yet, so if you too like this AU, stay tuned~☆

#in stars and time #isat #isat siffrin #creature!sif #chickenart #i just wanted to make a neat isat au #and now here i am...i aint complaining tho XD #seriously tho #tha amount of love for this au im already recieving is bamboozling to me #i appreciate all yall in the discord server #and you to fanfic person #idk if youre on tumblr but i think youre cool and awesome for making that fic #*hugs u*

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delicatebarness · 2 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏 | 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: At Velmythria Academy, among creatures much larger and more powerful than yourself, you unexpectedly cross paths with the imposing werewolf– Bucky Barnes. Leaving you questioning the rules of the realm.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Forbidden Relationships | Size Difference | Tension | Societal Restrictions | Small Physical Contact

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 871

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭: Ko-FI | Instagram | Personal Blog | Pinterest

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you all for taking an interest in this idea, I really hope I've done it justice! Also, I just added everyone to the tag list but of course, if you don't wish to be tagged in further parts, please let me know! - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - Bethiee x

The grand halls of Velmythria Academy felt a little too vast for someone your size, the marble walls etched with ancient runes towered over you. A faint light pulsing from them. Velmythria– a place for all creatures, including those far bigger and fiercer than you, had been your home since birth. Born an earth fairy, your wings shimmer a soft emerald green upon your small frame, and you were the smallest of the fairy kind.

You effortlessly glided through the hallways, slipping between the Vampires, Sirens, Giants, and other creatures crowding. However, something felt different in the air that day.

Pushing the heavy wooden door, your wings fluttered slightly as you entered the ‘History of Velmythria Creatures’ class. Rows of seats climbed high up the walls, an enchantment casting over them to accommodate each student– The varied sizes, and needs of all. You had always enjoyed this class, hearing the tales of the ancient realms, the forgotten wars, and the lost creatures you only knew as myths. The classroom buzzed with recognizable languages, guttural growls, and other higher-pitched chirping.

And then there he sat– Bucky Barnes.

He took up almost the entire back row, the chairs although enchanted, were made to look laughably small against his broad frame. The werewolf stood seven feet tall and ran as the alpha of the Academy’s resident wolf pack. His thick, unruled hair seemed to have a mind of its own, and his blue eyes pierced as they scanned the room. The weight of which could make even the most confident of creatures uncomfortably shift in their chairs.

Your wings fluttered as you searched for a spot, every seat feeling impossibly large until you spotted an empty chair. Second from the back, just a row down from Bucky. The sight of him was enough for you to pause. As he sat slumped in his seat, the fabric of his shirt stretched over his shoulders. His elbows propped on the desk, large hands that were no match for the delicate stationery the academy provided.

His presence was impossible to ignore, yet you have never spoken to him. He was always in the background, silently commanding attention.

You settled into the seat before him with a soft breath, closer to him than you’d usually dare to be. The air around you thickened as you sat, trying to ignore the heavy and lively charge surrounding you and focus on retrieving your notebooks and pens.

The professor’s scales shimmered under the dim lights, an ancient dragon shifter, as the lecture began. The topic of the day was written across the chalkboard: Forbidden Bonds. A subject you’ve always found fascinating. Although, it was hard to focus, especially with the warmth radiating from the wolf behind you, making you hyper-aware of the space between you.

As the lecture progressed further into the topic, a faint crack echoed in the air. Glancing back toward him, you were just in time to see the pen snap within his heavy grip. His brows furrowed in frustration, staring down at the broken plastic. Without a second thought, you reached into your pencil case, pulling out another one of your opens.

Carefully you slide the pen– a small, woodland-themed one with illustrated mushrooms printed on the sides towards him. A strange shiver shot up your spine as your fingers brushed against his. His skin was callous yet warm, and in that moment, you heard him– a rumble, low and deep within his chest. Barely audible, it was almost a growl catching in his throat causing your wings to twitch into a flutter.

His attention shifted, his gaze heavy on you as you dared not to look. There was a long pause, neither one of you moving. But then, slowly, he took the pen, thick fingers holding it like it was fragile. You watched out of the corner of your eye, him testing the pen by scribbling a few lines on his paper. It looked almost absurd, his large hand accompanied by the cutesy design, and yet he did not comment. He simply just… used it.

Trying to refocus on the lecture, you couldn’t help but notice the pounding of your heart against your chest. Your thought drifted back to that brief moment of contact, and the way his quiet rumble vibrated through your entire body. His concentration was unwavering, yet from the small glimpses you caught, his grip was more careful now. It was as if he was being conscious of his own strength.

You wondered if he had noticed, sensed, how flustered you were. However, as the professor brought the lecture to an end, Bucky stood. Pocketing the mushroom pen without a word and began leaving the classroom. He never looked back at you, but the weight of his large looming presence lingered around you. And, it wasn’t until you heard his heavy footsteps fade away down the hallways that you finally let out a breath. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding onto.

An inexplicable pull toward him unsettled you. How could one small, accidental brush of contact begin to stir something inside of you? It made you question the rules of the realm, and how unbreakable the boundaries between creatures could be.

---

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

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wing-ed-thing · 2 months ago

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Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter XI

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 9.6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)

Notes: A one month turnaround for me and this series is becoming unheard of. Probably due to the lengths of these chapters. Why do they keep growing???

Hashirama enjoyed lingering in a lovely garden, and political figures, no matter the rank, tended to flock around Hashirama. So, to accommodate Hashirama’s tendency to idle in nature and the massive posse of political figures that vied for his attention, a sizable courtyard area was built near the Senju dwellings.

When Tobirama tore through the garden and stormed inside, he appeared troubled, much more so than usual. While he usually tried to ignore Hashirama’s bids for laughs and attention, the speed and force with which he stormed through the courtyard raised Hashirama’s brow.

Tobirama was granted a brief reprieve. However, his brother's delayed presence was strictly attributed to the many political figures Hashirama had to gently dismiss before he could follow Tobirama inside.

Tobirama was already hunched over a desk, penning away at some lengthy document with his forehead in his palm. While the desk was cluttered, the mass of papers and stationery items were allotted into neat, well-maintained piles for their size. Hashirama frowned in the doorway, allowing his brow to twitch a minuscule amount before he quietly shut the door. His head dropped before it rolled back.

“What happened?” he asked.

Tobirama didn’t answer. His back flexed with more tension than needed for the simple task of writing. Hashirama let out a deep sigh.

”I did tell you that it would not end well, now did I not?”

“I was the swiftest messenger,” Tobirama snapped, slamming his quill on the table. The sound reverberated across the near-empty room. He sat straight, facing forward as he took a steady breath in. But the moment he took to calm himself did nothing for the volume of his voice. “What do I have to shrink away from regarding the Uchiha? We had all killed our fair share on the battlefield. Facing a fellow warrior with a grudge is no matter to me!”

Hashirama flinched neither at his brother’s volume nor the physicality of his outburst. His face slowly melted from its usual brightness to a concerned neutrality.

“Well, this tells me that you did not engage with a fellow warrior.” Hashirama’s gaze narrowed. He hardly let a beat pass. “What did you do, brother?”

The room fell silent. Tobirama should have known that his brother was far too clever to let him ignore what happened at the Uchiha compound. He didn’t expect that in any reality. The moment his hands found your skin, Tobirama knew there was no coming back. It would have to come out eventually, given that this was surely the end of the Uchiha-Senju compromise for which Hashirama had worked so hard.

And for what he had told you about slapping the scroll out of his hand, the incredulousness he committed was far more severe and far more reckless.

Tobirama turned, his face nothing less than severe and neutral as he approached Hashirama to kneel and bow deeply at his feet. His head hardly touched the wood flooring below for Hashirama to be filled with dread.

“I have committed a great error, for I have laid hands on a member of the Uchiha council!” Tobirama proclaimed, his forehead digging into the floor.

Hashirama took a moment of pause above him.

“And this was in self-defense?”

Another moment of pause came. Tobirama didn’t let it last for long and spoke what he knew was the truth, “No,” he said.

Tension grew in the stale air.

“For the sake of clarity,” Hashirama started. Tobirama’s heart had already begun to palpate in anticipation of the words he knew would come next. Hashirama’s voice had hardly wavered, but Tobirama knew his brother well enough to know that Hashirama was barely restraining rage. “You had laid hands on Madara’s companion.”

Your name followed, spoken in the same way one would name a jutsu. The mere word stilled the atmosphere in such a way that Hashirama didn’t need explicit confirmation.

Tobirama breathed in.

“Yes.”

Hashirama hummed, deep in thought behind his neutral eyes and deepening frown. Yes, his mind was working quickly, perhaps almost as swiftly as the rising heat of rage in his chest. Hashirama hardly wore his expressions on his face when it came to grave matters, a stark contrast to his usual jovial demeanor.

“Pick yourself up, brother.”

Tobirama obeyed, and just when he got to his feet, Hashirama’s fist flew mercilessly across Tobirama’s face. It was a strike thrown without frills, just hard knuckle against skin at a velocity unseen. The sound snapped through the room, as red stained Tobirama’s starkly pale skin. He recoiled, having been forced down to one knee from the sheer power of such a simple strike. Hashirama hardly had anything to add, watching as his brother maneuvered his own jaw, popping it back into place. Tobirama’s hand came away with a streak of blood from his ruptured nostril.

“I cannot say that was not deserved—”

”You best have a great explanation.” Hashirama fidgeted, moving to turn but jerking back toward Tobirama. Hashirama held a hand to his own face, squeezing and massaging the skin of his cheeks as he heavily pondered. He stared off into a corner of the room. “Madara loved Izuna more than anyone else, and I had just barely managed to persuade him into these negotiations—”

—“I know this, brother, the deepest apologies could never—”

“Tobirama, you do understand that you have attacked a civilian?” Hashirama asserted. Another great pause filled the space between them. There was too much to say and little time for it. “You have laid hands on a civilian much smaller than yourself, a diplomatic ally, and the very person that has the most sway over Madara and, by extension, the Uchiha as a whole.”

Even now, Hashirama's voice held great patience but left little room for escape. He spoke to understand, even as the fate of a unified Land of Fire looked as if it would crash down around him.

“I need an explanation,” Hashirama said. “If I am to face Madara— for there is no doubt that Madara has already heard word— I require your reasoning.”

He looked Tobirama in the eye, concern and complexity swimming around his dark irises. Tobirama had since picked himself off the floor.

“I am sorry…” Tobirama’s head bowed. “I cannot offer you an explanation that Madara would accept. I am certain that the truth would only make him more furious than he already is.”

“You have bigger issues than Madara if you refuse to speak,” Hashirama said with an acute frown. “Without information from you, I can only assume the worst.”

Tobirama ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, especially out loud. But in the face of his brother, with such important things in the balance, Tobirama couldn’t hesitate.

“We were involved long ago when we were but children… Perhaps for a series of weeks… Perhaps less,” Tobirama admitted, and to his slight surprise, Hashirama wasn’t fazed. Why would he be when he had also snuck off to see an Uchiha in his youth as well? Tobirama expected no less. He squared his shoulders, clasping his hands together as if delivering a report. “Seeing her after so long… She had brought up things that had happened, and I lost my temper.” His slender eyebrows wrinkled his forehead. He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I spoke in a foul manner. She, rightfully, retaliated… and I did the same tenfold.”

Tobirama nodded, thinking as to whether he had left anything significant out of his brief summary. Shame coated him like a blanket. It all sounded so trivial when put in such a way.

Hashirama placed his hands on his hips, casting his gaze toward the ceiling. He breathed in deeply, then out.

“Of all the women…” Hashirama sighed, letting his eyes close. “She did not sustain lasting damage, did she?”

“Of course not,” Tobirama defended, sounding almost insulted. “You think I would brutalize a council member unprovoked in the middle of the woods?” He shook his head, his fingers momentarily finding the hair just above his forehead. He raked the strands back like a comb. Tobirama’s eyes also fell shut. He took another breath in as if preparing himself for his next confession. “I pinned her by the neck.”

“By gods, Tobirama!”

“My aim was not to kill or injure.”

“I am sure she was petrified all the same! And you know as well as I that Madara would not see it that way,” Hashirama asserted. “All he will be able to think is that you attacked his companion when he was away—”

—“Please stop referring to her as this.”—

“You could have faintly touched the shoulder of her robes, and that would have been far too much aggression shown toward an Uchiha woman.” Hashirama shook his head.

Tobirama rolled his eyes.

“My regretful actions aside, I do not understand why it should matter whether she is a woman or not.”

“Because the Uchiha are of a different culture, brother. Only a handful of female Uchiha warriors have existed in their history, that being only so many you could have come across, and yet you had to choose Madara’s closest companion to pick a fight with!” He shook his head, letting it fall back into his hand again. “I must go tend to this. We can only hope that Madara remains in a headspace from which he can be talked down.”

Hashirama grabbed his haori, pulling it over his shoulders as he primed himself toward the door. Tobirama didn’t budge. He knew that the mess he made had to be mended by Hashirama. No one else could pull off such a feat.

“I am prepared to take full responsibility,” he said with certainty.

“Madara will certainly demand your head,” Hashirama countered gravely. “We can only hope that creativity finds me on my journey there.”

***

“Where have you been?” you snapped. Madara had barely made it to the compound before you were upon him. “You have been gone for hours!”

You barged out from the Uchiha compound, marching across the dirt clearing to Madara, who stood still. A massive beast was slung across his shoulder, its head handing over his back.

He scowled. You spoke to him with quite the tongue on you for as long as he could remember. He hadn’t been particularly fond of it then, and ever since he had been chosen as the head of the Uchiha, his tolerance for your attitude had dwindled immensely. Madara checked you far more often, unashamed of using his title to silence you. Still, your familiarity with each other was enough to overpower formalities more often than he would have liked.

“Hunting,” he deadpanned. He spared a momentary glance at the beast draped over his armor.

You looked at it incredulously.

“Is that a deer?” The rest of the council, who were used to your spats with Madara, completely passed the two of you by. They carried their gear, chatting amongst themselves and paying little mind to what you were on about. “You know better than to hunt deer in Nara territory!”

You placed your fists on your hips, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest after being pent up all afternoon. Of all the times for the Uchiha men to get restless, it had to have been the time you needed them most.

“Well, I will inform you now that while you and the rest of my kinsmen have disappeared for half a day, Tobirama Senju came to this place in search of you!” You huffed, too wrapped up in yourself to notice Madara’s darkened demeanor. You opened your mouth wide to continue, ready to spit venom and fire alike. “I do not even know where to start when it comes to the absolute nerve—”

“I am able to believe such things,” Madara interrupted, his intonation a tick lower than usual. The volume surprised you. He looked at you straight on with a severe air about him. “What did he want? It better have been a very important message to compensate for his coming to this place. Tobirama should know better than to show his face here.”

You sputtered, thrown off by not being able to finish your earlier thought. But with Madara’s words, you were suddenly too caught up in what he said to remember the entire rant you wanted to unleash. You blinked a few times. You had a whole tirade ready that you had carefully been scripting in your head since you dragged yourself back to the compound to await Madara’s return. Now, as things weren’t happening the way they had in your head, you found yourself thrown off.

“Only to deliver a scroll,” you stammered, trying to pick a direction. Your personal issues aside, was there a reason that Tobirama should have been hesitant to show himself at the Uchiha compound? “Did… something happen between you and Hashirama? Because Tobirama came to this place absolutely—”

“A scroll? Bah!” Madara shook his head, waving a hand. He began to march off to follow the rest of his men. “If you are asking just me, I would believe that Hashirama and I are on favorable terms,” he announced into the evening atmosphere. Madara spared a brief, singular glance back at you. “Unless Tobirama suggested otherwise… Even so, a discussion with Hashirama would be paramount before I believe a word that man speaks!”

Even for his noises of annoyance, Madara appeared almost unconcerned. And while you could see the visible tension in his form on his dismayed expression, Madara continued on.

You followed behind him. You had never been able to keep up with Madara’s long and fast strides. You were convinced he walked like that on purpose.

“Madara! Will you just let me speak?”

“You have been allowed to speak for the duration of this. Out with whatever is negging you so.”

The head of the beast he carried laid limply over his shoulder, or perhaps the better term would have been heads. It was some sort of two-headed deer with great antlers, a good portion of which dug into the back of Madara’s armor. It couldn’t have been comfortable to carry.

You breathed in with certainty.

“While you were away, Tobirama had come to this place and raised a hand to me—”

“Madara! My friend! Talking about me, are you?” Hashirama’s voice drowned you out completely.

You turned in shock as Hashirama made his way up the hill, trudging through the dirt path with a great smile and wave of his hand. From the little time you had been acquainted with him, he had always been rather loud when he grew excited. Even during negotiations, the sheer volume of his voice was enough to hear from several rooms over.

Madara turned as well with a sigh. He readjusted the deer on his shoulder.

“Will no one let me place this thing down?” He lamented to no one in particular. His voice rose when he called across the clearing. “What do you want, Hashirama?”

”No need to be so hostile, Madara!” Hashirama laughed, making short work of the distance between you. “Do I need a reason to visit?”

It was in one moment that you made eye contact. Hashirama’s gaze met yours, and in that connection, his eyes flickered from wide and jovial to wary. The upturned corner of his lip faltered, and it all happened in an undetectable fraction of a second.

He knew.

There was noise all around you. Madara continued to speak, sighing and complaining as the noises of nocturnal bugs seemed to grow to an unbearable volume. Even the gentle evening breeze seemed to hit your ears in just the right way as to be almost deafening.

Despite how authentic it might have been, you knew that Hashirama’s upbeat and charismatic demeanor was a calculated tool. For as energetic as he was, there was always a certain volume that masked the way in which Hashirama played his cards close to his chest.

And yet, for all the noise, it only took one look at Hashirama—one pointed gaze that pierced through his carefully crafted diplomatic demeanor—to understand your mutual situation instantly.

He had come to begin damage control, and you had yet to tell Madara what Tobirama had done. As long as Hashirama wasn’t here to pick a fight, the discussions were still on the table, contrary to Tobirama’s earlier threat.

— “Hashirama?”

Madara’s voice cut through your mental stare. Hashirama’s shock was visible but melted quickly into an endearingly sheepish expression.

”My apologies, my friend, you must speak up!” he laughed. Madara groaned with a roll of his eyes, once again readjusting the deer on his shoulder.

“I hardly have the time for these things!” He frowned. “What are you doing here, Hashirama? If you do not answer, we can settle your matter during daylight hours.”

“The sun still prevails!” Hashirama gestured loosely toward the setting sun, and in the golden light, you stole another pointed gaze toward each other. “But truly, I wanted to apologize for my brother.”

Madara glanced in your direction.

“Go inside.”

“You speak as if I have not participated in every diplomacy session for the last two sunsets,” you countered.

Madara hardly had the time to eye you warily. And after a long hunt, Madara had too little patience for beating around the bush. He had truthfully wanted to be rid of you and Hashirama. But as he glanced between the two of you, he knew that trying to avoid one would pick a battle with the other. Reluctantly, Madara’s eyes settled on Hashirama.

“Tobirama should have been relieved that myself and the rest of the council were not here to humor his lapse in judgment,” Madara reluctantly gruffed with a deep scowl. “We may be engaging in peace negotiations, but bear in mind that the passing of my own brother was not all that long ago.”

His words struck you, the weight of them looming overhead as your mind had yet to piece things together.

“We may be on friendly terms with the Senju as a whole, but a killer entering our estate is pushing the limits on our… courtesy. Especially with a lady present with no guardian by her side.”

Madara didn’t talk much about Izuna or the nature of his death. Aside from the night Madara begged you to accompany him to the village negotiations, Izuna’s name hadn’t come up since, no matter how much you pushed.

You had wanted to talk about him so as not to let his memory fade, but Madara had refused to speak about the matter. You dropped it, a part of you trying to be understanding while the other was far too wrapped up in the fact that the ceasefire had turned your world upside down.

“Most certainly; we are in complete agreement.” Hashirama nodded profusely. “I will ensure that he will not play courier in the future.”

And yet, when Madara spoke of Izuna’s death to Hashirama on a random summer night in the clearing just outside the Uchiha dwellings, you knew the truth. You just didn’t quite believe it. It hadn’t hit you yet.

“That would be agreeable,” Madara agreed. A beat passed. Hashirama made no motion to leave or speak. “Anything else you wish to discuss?”

Hashirama stole another glance at you.

“Yes, in fact, this is not all I wanted to speak about—”

“I was not aware that Tobirama had been the one to kill Izuna,” you said, your voice projected by pure shock. But the volume aside, the words were enough to slice through the clearing and still the powerful men that stood before you.

The entire sentence had been flat, devoid of shock, hurt, or anger. It was a statement in every sense of the word that nearly forced the air in the clearing to a thick, atmospheric standstill.

It felt odd to say out loud like none of the words you spoke were words at all. You could feel the reality of it all floating around you, like tiny particles of truth hovering over your shoulders, ready to fill your chest like crashing waves. And yet, no sensation came.

It was an objective truth devoid of sharpness, unable to penetrate the core of your soul. Reality felt numb, the shapes of things in your vision sharpening significantly as the most minute textures and details became glaring.

You thought it would have felt as if the world was crashing down… and yet all you could feel was the warmth of the little embers that had been sparked in your chest.

Hashirama’s tongue recoiled as Madara turned toward you with regretful concern.

“Is this true?” you asked.

All Madara could do was look at you before deflating his chest with a deep sigh. He didn’t answer. Hashirama stood by. It didn’t take an emotional genius to recognize that now was hardly the time to have the conversation he had come all this way to have. And yet, the repercussions of leaving you and Madara to hash out the details surrounding his beloved brother’s death were even more daunting.

“Hashirama—” It was another instance of Hashirama not being where his feet were. He blinked a few times, the motion of his surprise subtle as you and Madara stood closely before him. “Unless your matter is urgent, I must ask you to save this discussion for another date.”

Hashirama took a steady breath in, taking the nanosecond that he had to consider the facts in front of him. He saw Madara fatigued and moderately high-strung. And perhaps he could have worked with that if it wasn’t for the outlier: you.

You stood by Madara’s side, having overstayed your welcome in the conversation long enough to have swerved the topic so off-topic that it would be impossible for Hashirama to even consider bringing up the indiscretion that Tobirama had committed against you. His brother had wronged both you and Madara. Hashirama knew he either had to nip it in the bud and risk making matters worse or leave the two of you alone. In doing so, he would be trusting that, for whatever reason, you would continue to hold your tongue about your interaction with Tobirama.

“Bah, woman, is it your intention to make things difficult? My shoulder has been bearing the weight of your dinner; I will have you know!”

“It is hardly the fault of my own!... Hunting in Nara territory… What were you thinking? You knew better than this!”

Madara scoffed.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Were not these the thoughts that clouded your brain when you held such crucial information away from me, Madara?”

Right. Right.

Hashirama bobbed his head a few times and held one hand up to bid the two of you goodbye. Neither of you noticed.

***

It always started with something like this: something that didn’t bother you until you and Madara bickered more and more. And suddenly, the jabs made half lightly turned into actual problems. Or perhaps they were problems when you initially picked a fight with him, masked by pettiness until you hardly had the restraint to hold your punches.

With Hashirama long forgotten, you bickered all over the Uchiha compound. Hell, you had exchanged words over Madara breaking down the deer he brought back. The antlers— you had decided over verbal blows— would be returned to the Nara to use in their medicine as a gesture of goodwill. Any additional meat that wasn’t roasted over the fire that the other Uchiha had been tending to outside would be salted and brought to the Nara aunties to be incorporated into the next day’s lunch.

This all, of course, meant nothing to you in the face of the revelation you had uncovered during Madara’s and Hashirama’s conversation.

“I had known that this would be the outcome,” Madara had sighed following a bombardment of questions. “I bring it upon myself at this point.”

It wasn’t until Madara was finished with all of his tasks and appeared to be looking for anything else to do that you finally cornered him on the engawa.

“Why?” You had called into the night.

You gazed at the back of Madara’s large form. Lanterns burned around you, casting a gentle, warm glow onto the wood at your feet. Fireflies and other creatures of the night hovered somewhere in the darkness, the blackness of the night making your wooden engawa feel like the only place in the world. And perhaps at that moment, the Uchiha dwellings were all that existed to you.

“Was it a surrender?” you asked. You would nearly say you cried it, but no tears welled in your eyes. Your face scrunched, puzzled, as you tried to assemble the pieces. “Has this all been a convoluted way of us begging for our lives?”

Madara stood still, just like the world around you. You were sure he had something heated on his tongue, something along the lines of these things not affecting you. But it did affect you.

Helplessness was not foreign to you, and yet, for everything that happened up until now, you have never felt as utterly helpless in your life.

You kept pushing and pushing him, knowing he would explode soon enough. But perhaps that was the point; you wanted him to explode. You wanted something, any sort of information that might make you feel less helpless than you felt.

But for Madara’s infamous temper, he was resigned.

“I suppose it was a surrender in a sense,” he admitted. “For Hashirama defeated me in battle.”

He kept talking, but you expected more. You expected to be told your place and to keep your nose out of things that weren’t your concern.

It all made little sense to you. There was little logic to you in the first place. You were a simple apothecary— who shouldn’t have even had that position— becoming the most important Uchiha woman practically overnight. You shouldn’t have known a single detail. You shouldn’t have exchanged words with the Uchiha council, let alone national dignitaries.

Madara was clan head.

Madara should have been strong enough for the Uchiha.

He was smarter than this. He was more driven than this, yet the Uchiha floundered on a field that wasn’t battle. Madara should have taken care of it all just as he promised! Madara shouldn’t have put any of it on your shoulders in asking you to be with him, especially if he knew he was out of his league.

You wanted a fight.

You stared at the back of Madara’s head, watching as he began to retreat.

You took a deep breath in before you called, “And so you betray the last words of your brother?”

“Woman!” Madara roared for the first time that evening. He whipped around, the sheer tick in volume making you flinch. But even so, you faced him without fear, the ember in your chest flaring to life to form a great flame. You didn’t move from where you stood, even as Madara stepped forward. Your eyes widened in anticipation.

You were picking a lot of fights as of late.

He had a feral look in his eye that only intensified with the glow of his sharingan. The very sight of his red irises made you feel small, shrinking as you lowered your head, trying to hide your excited glee. You gritted your teeth, ready to engage in the verbal fisticuffs you graciously requested.

But to your disappointment, Madara almost seemed to deflate. His eyes closed as tension built up in his forehead. He ran a hand across his face with a deep sigh.

The nocturnal creatures of the forest continued to chirp around you. They were the only things keeping you anchored to the reality below your feet.

“You want a story, do you?” Madara muttered in a soft tone that didn’t suit him. “You want me to tell you about my duel with Hashirama?”

His finger gently found the bottom of your chin. Madara tilted your head up before his arms coiled over his chest. It was another action that didn’t suit him, yet the night continued to surround you, enveloping you in a muted blanket of protection from the outside world.

It felt like the summers of your youth. Festivities and special events happened during the day, leaving reprieve and anticipation to the night. The air in the Land of Fire was prone to mugginess to the point where it was almost stifling without the cool air that sailed through the trees. But even so, it smelled the same as it did back then. Your skin felt a bit sticky, but not to an overly uncomfortable extent. You were just warm, almost warm enough to sleep.

“I had left our home in anger— in grief. I was fully intent on Hashirama and I killing each other the moment I tracked him down. And, as honorable as he is, Hashirama allowed the duel I sought. I suppose I should have known it would only result in a loss,” Madara narrated. Another victory for Hashirama was undoubtedly a blow to his ego, but Madara told the tale levelly. The tone in and of itself carried a great respect.

“And he had simply spared you,” you assumed.

“Nay,” Madara answered. “Hashirama had all the opportunity to finish me then and there. I had practically asked him to honor me with a warrior's death, for then perhaps I could have been reunited with Izuna… but instead, he presented me with a proposal.” Madara made a vague gesture. “This. These negotiations with the hope that we might stop fighting.”

You breathed. The lanterns flickered in the dark, only providing enough light to barely illuminate Madara’s somber face.

“And you believed him,” you finally spoke. “Why?”

Something flashed across Madara’s dark irises, a certain softness to pair with his regretful resignation.

“I would not expect you to understand,” he said. The corners of his lips dipped into a slight frown.

You let him simmer, once again unsatisfied. And truly, there was nothing else to do but probe, not when the Uchiha compound was the only thing comprising your world. Or perhaps it wasn’t the compound as much as it was the engawa upon which you and Madara stood.

“Do you consider that Hashirama believes in us as strongly as you believe in him?” you asked.

Another moment passed.

“Yes.”

“And what do you think of this in the context of all of this? Do you think Hashirama would be in favor of our equality in the village?”

“I believe that Hashirama holds pure intentions.”

Hashirama, not the Senju. And certainly not the rest of the clans gathered.

Your eyes narrowed.

“And you think that will make a difference?”

The embers in the lanterns suddenly flared, glowing only slightly bigger. The glow that cast across Madara’s face brightened for only a moment, making the shadows that enveloped his right side seem darker. His black hair held a golden sheen to it.

“That is yet to be foreseen.”

***

Madara retired early that night. He decided he didn’t want to talk any further, rejecting all speak about Hashirama and Tobirama. Like before Hashirama’s visit, any further mention of Izuna was once again forbidden. But despite one thing in its singularity returning to normal, Madara, ever physical, arrogant, and stubborn, appeared far more pensive as of late.

He was quiet. It was odd seeing him so quiet. It felt wrong seeing a fighter such as Madara so limp. Despite what your teenage self would have protested, you almost missed Madara’s pompous confidence and self-righteousness. As tiring as he was, his attitude always gave him a spark: a fire that had been missing ever since his defeat at the hands of Hashirama.

You wanted to ask him, “Where is your fire?”

Perhaps it was because the context of bloodshed was the only place he knew how to fight in the first place. He might have known no other way. And yet, it was odd— painful even— to see Madara out of his element.

He seemed lost, pushing toward a goal he did not even know how to achieve. His seemingly blind loyalty to Hashirama was another mystery. While Hashirama was undoubtedly a great man, you could hardly say you knew much about him. You undoubtedly didn’t know enough to wrap your head around Madara’s unyielding trust in the man whose throat he’d held a kunai to for a lifetime. Perhaps he was right when he said you wouldn’t understand.

Perhaps none of it was Hashirama at all. A greater part of you knew that it wasn’t the defeat that plagued Madara’s mind, and that idea holed itself somewhere in the back of your thoughts.

You couldn’t sleep.

The memory of Izuna haunted you, something you thought you shoved into a neat lockbox the night Madara came to the apothecary. You hardly remembered him for his last, bitter interaction with you following the Uchiha council’s meeting, but rather the night following the failed raid on the Uchiha settlement. You remembered how he stood in your apothecary, surrounded by candlelight, marred by blood and gore despite his clean hands.

“Why is it always about what Madara wants?” you had asked him, banking on Izuna picking up the subtext you were too afraid to say out loud.

There was a brief moment, a second of thought, where you wondered if saying the quiet part out loud would have made a difference. Instead, he haunted you: a spirit of a dear childhood friend, a brother in all aspects but blood, and a potential of something and nothing that faded with the strike of Tobirama Senju’s sword.

Tobirama Senju: another man you wanted to forget. You refused to think of him at all. The mere thought of him made you cringe, yet the rage he had spurred on brought you here.

It was the one place where you thought you could feel a semblance of control over your present. You could sit in the council chambers and imagine what it would look like to have a novel idea. But now, you found yourself hiding again, pressed against a wooden beam in the dark as hushed voices deliberated inside.

The memory of the initial meeting flashed across your thoughts as you stood outside the discussion hall. You had long since extinguished your lamp, holding it near your hip and close to the ground as you flared your sharingan. Your back met the outside of the hall, unabashedly listening in on the muffled conversation within.

The walls were made of paper, as was traditional, and any structure that wasn’t made of paper was made of wood. The walls of the Uchiha meeting hall were made similarly, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your many nights of peering through those cracks were to prepare you for this very moment.

You were drawn to the hall, following only aimless instinct after your discussion with Madara.

“And you think it wise to offer the Uchiha such a central location?” You heard. You weren’t acquainted well enough with all the clan heads to properly recall who was speaking. It sounded like Hyūga if you were to take a guess. A laugh resounded from inside the meeting room.

“Do you desire their proposed allocation?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then leave it be,” the second voice said, “You knew as well as I that any intelligence that Madara holds ends at the battlefield. Best to get them out of the way now. From there, we have more room to talk policy.”

The voices drifted, and as the collection of clan leaders trickled into the hall, you swiftly fled into the forest line to lie in wait. The collection of clan leaders slowly trickled out of the conference building, chattering amongst themselves. The head of the Fuma clan, an old ally of the Uchiha, and Inuzuka, to your surprise, were among the gathered.

It was long past sunset, but that didn’t seem to affect the way they loitered outside the conference hall before slowly departing back toward their respective dwellings. You observed their hushed whispers from the canopy of a tree, sitting amongst rough wood and biting insects until the clan heads and their respective trustees left into the dark.

You waited. You waited a few moments longer to ensure they all had left before you dismounted from your hiding place. Slowly, you approached the hall and quietly slipped in the door.

The negotiation hall was still. And only when you determined that no one was left in the building did you relight the ember of your lantern. You scoured the rooms, starting with the one the three clan heads had just met in.

You weren’t surprised when you found it exactly how it had been set up. The room was spotless, with everything neatly in place, as you’d expect from high-ranking shinobi.

You wandered to the main negotiation room just down the hall, where all the clan heads would gather again the next morning. It, too, was still.

You placed your lamp down at the table, taking a seat in Madara’s chair. You gazed across the room at where Hashirama would sit the next day. A neutral painting hung on the wall above his seat.

You thought about the way Madara reluctantly consented to your use of the sharingan to record the conversation. You thought back to the charged looks exchanged between you, Madara, Hashirama, and Tobirama. How could you forget?

You took a small stack of pages from your robes, a quill from your hair, and a bottle of ink from a string around your waist. You kept an internal record of the meeting and, by extension, a written one. Papers quickly consumed your waking hours since the discussions began.

The other council members, Madara included, hardly touched papers, let alone put a quill to them. And plot to undermine the Uchiha aside, the whispering clan heads were correct. The Uchiha council were warriors through and through. The entire council had been chosen through battle, as Madara had been chosen as clan head. Scribing was not in their wheelhouse, nor was it in their interests.

It had only been a short time since negotiations began, hardly a week, let alone a handful of days. The Uchiha had yet to give a formal dissertation. Rather, Madara spoke strongly about what he was in favor of, what ideas he rejected, and almost predominantly off-cuff when it came to any ideas he had of his own. Ones that he almost always failed to share with you until it mattered.

You had penned a few of these rough notes down on the pages below your wrists. As you studied the pen strokes, you couldn’t help but consider that many of Madara’s ideas were strikingly coherent, branching into topics from economic policy to the village grid. However, they lacked structure, well-thought-out details, and were surface-level at best. It didn’t matter how good his speeches were or how well you penned your notes if they couldn’t hold up to basic probing.

The Uchiha didn’t have a proposal, especially not in the way that other clans did, but were expected to speak soon. Other clans were far better with organization, preparing lengthy dissertations and proposals that would be open for discussion and, ultimately, a vote. A haphazard way of running things, the proposed ideas were arranged by category and run through several rounds of deliberations and cuts until the most popular compromise prevailed.

You studied your handwriting, and the ink started to look less and less like words. You couldn’t make sense of it either, and for all the times your breath hitched when Madara should have done something different during the conference, you had no better ideas yourself. Rather, it took several read-throughs to wrap your head around the complex topics, hardly knowing a good idea from a bad one.

The Uchiha were a battle-minded clan, and you were a woman apothecary who was almost entirely self-taught. Then there was Madara. His struggle with bureaucratic competency aside, he might not have said it, but Madara was incredibly invested in a village of unity. You could see it when you spoke on the engawa. Madara himself aside, it was the only way forward where the Uchiha could even think of seeing the future.

You considered your leverage and the grief that plagued Madara’s heart. Finally, the unlikely last piece of the puzzle was the negotiations as a whole.

You gathered the documents and slid them into a hidden compartment of your robes for safekeeping. The warm glow of the tiny ember in your lamp illuminated your face in golden orange light before you blew the flame out. The smoke wafted up into the air, leaving the scent of burning in your nose.

***

A water fixture sat near the Senju dwellings. And at the risk of sounding dubious with your words, its structure felt very Senju in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The water ran from a small pond adorned with lilies and tall grasses and down a manufactured stream lined with round river stones.

You made your way through the yard, stopping in the center to watch the stream run across the stone. Although, it appeared you weren’t quite as stealthy as you thought you were.

“I could have sworn you were Madara coming to take my head for my transgressions.”

When you turned, Tobirama was ducking through the doorway and emerging out from the darkness of the Senju dwellings and onto the engawa. You turned away from the stream, quelling the startled jump in your chest. He was, after all, who you had come to see.

Tobirama’s expression was neutral: neither pleased nor displeased with your arrival at the Senju dwellings so late at night. His surprise, however, was palpable in the air. The feeling was mutual.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word, Tobirama stepped down from the tall engawa and onto the ground below. It all happened quickly: the near effortless leap to the garden to meet you, your panicked step back, and as Tobirama began to bow, you had quickly ordered him to stop.

He had made it to one knee, seeming to freeze in place with the one word for him to halt. It was another instance where you had confused the both of you. His eyes cast down somewhere random; his forehead crinkled as he pondered his actions and wondered where he had gone wrong. Tobirama placed his other knee on the ground and gripped the pebbles below, fully intending to repent with a deep bow.

Clans and other politics were far from his mind. He was ready to place his pride aside to grovel, but you scolded him again.

“Stop.” It was hard to determine exactly what your tone was. Not quite angry, not quite frightened, your voice was far from neutral and yet far too composed to place an emotion properly. As much as your heart beat loudly in your chest, Tobirama hardly knew better. How could he in the face of your scornful gaze? “Get up.”

Tobirama made piercing eye contact from his bowed position. You stood a distance before him, fists balled and jaw tensed.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. Even when his face was nearly on the ground, Tobirama held a presence over the courtyard, and the energy he reined over hardly dwindled as he stood at his full height.

He was tall, perhaps even taller than Madara, and yet you hardly felt the domineering presence you grew used to in the Uchiha settlement. You practically expected it from a warrior as bulky and stoic as Tobirama. He seemed to have grown bitter in the years you had been apart. Hardened. Logical. And yet the dark chakra that seemed to drip from Madara in spades was not present in the Senju courtyard.

Tobirama almost made himself another fixture of the garden, one you might glaze over if your eyes were to bounce across the foliage. You weren’t great at sensing the chakra of others unless the output was explicit— you were hardly one to use jutsu on a regular basis— but if Tobirama was letting any of his energy slip, you couldn’t sense an ounce. He was calm, ready to accept whatever punishment you were there to serve him.

In fact, he reminded you of…

“Is it true that you were the one who had slain Izuna?”

“Yes.”

The answer came quicker than you thought it would. In its singularity, the word was void of a brag or a boast. It came quickly, the noise not overstayed in the air—a singular truth.

You huffed, squaring your shoulders as you swiftly marched forward. You hitched the sleeve of your robes as you did, quickly closing the gap between the two of you as you wound up for a hefty strike. You walked until you were directly in front of Tobirama, arm cocked and at the ready. But for as quickly as the ember inside of you had flared to life, it extinguished into little more than smoke.

Tobirama had closed his eyes, and you hadn’t noticed that he had actually lowered himself a bit to allow better access to strike his face. When the hit didn’t come, he opened his eyes again, ever-neutral.

You took a step back and lowered your arm, and it wasn’t until you were a few steps away that Tobirama stood tall once more. Then, he waited.

“Hashirama and Madara… they have met before,” you spoke the accusation softly.

“Yes, they were friends once.” His voice rumbled like he was narrating a story. Tobirama was straightforward, and the new information came with neither fondness nor judgment. After all, who was Tobirama to judge the way in which Madara and Hashirama met?

You took a deep breath in before letting a steady stream of air out. The motion melted some of the tension in your shoulders. It was just one new piece of knowledge you didn’t know before, yet the affirmation of your suspicions somehow made you feel slightly less alone.

“Did they meet—” You only wondered momentarily if you should say the quiet part out loud. — “Were they like us? The way we met?”

“I suppose,” Tobirama answered. “Although—” He glanced away for a moment that barely caused a pause in his words before meeting your eyes once again. —- “I hardly believe that the two of them were doing anything like… what we were doing.”

You quickly tore your gaze away.

“You have become bitter and vulgar.”

“It is simply the truth.”

The small stream continued to trickle behind you, and the sound of water pouring over water was a constant background noise to your aimless conversation. You took another deep breath.

“You have more,” Tobirama said. Aside from the few times you had witnessed his temper, you found that Tobirama tried to hold things close to his chest. This included the question behind his simple, three-letter sentence. You wondered, during the time between him talking and you answering, if it was because of his temper that he tried to keep so stoic.

“While Madara certainly seems confident that the Senju will not betray us, I would like a safety net.”

“The Senju have no intentions of betraying the Uchiha,” Tobirama put plainly and curtly. He pushed back on you a bit more forcefully this time, red irises boring into you. “Might I remind you that Hashirama took the initiative and spared the Uchiha—”

“I do not truly care for the minutia.” You didn’t know the whole story, but you weren’t about to let Tobirama know that.

“Well, you should.” The corner of his lips twitched downward slightly, but he gave little else. “If you are to engage in these negotiations, I would advise you to keep the details in mind.”

“It does not take a genius to realize that the Uchiha are perceived as a threat to be undermined during negotiations.”

“We are the wrong people to be having these discussions.” His words came out more like a sigh, despite the mounting pressure of your exchange.

Tobirama shook his head, melting a bit into a more relaxed stance as he did. He was certainly still tense, but the deflating of his shoulders only highlighted the stress that had filled them moments ago.

“Hashirama has no intention of acting in any other way than good faith. He and your clan head want this village to become a reality the most, you know,” he said.

Tobirama waited for you to respond, pursing his lips inward. He nodded a few times as if something else was on his mind. The time that passed when you didn’t respond appeared to make him restless.

“Your people will defend themselves as much as you will collaborate with others,” he continued. “It is truly not so different than any other negotiation you have done. Perhaps even similar to that of your alliances with the Fuma and the Hagoromo.”

“Most certainly,” you said, vaguely recalling the exchange of sake cups between the two allied clan heads with little other discourse. The Uchiha had, after all, been the most powerful force in the area, and an alliance saved both clans from being pushed from their territories. They had little to stand on other than a few generations of goodwill and Madara’s favor.

“I am confident the proposal that Madara has written up is a strategy that will give every scribe a run for their coin indeed,” Tobirama huffed begrudgingly.

“Most certainly.” You nodded, wondering if you had missed word about a monetary fee. You didn’t quite understand him. It must have been a Senju turn of phrase.

The stream continued to babble in the background. The night only seemed to grow darker, almost completely enveloping the lone lantern that glowed at the far end of the compound. Even so, the light was enough to make out the bare minimum of your surroundings, and your superior vision made up for the rest. Tobirama didn’t appear bothered by the lack of light. You wondered if he felt just as nostalgic meeting in the dark as you did.

“Madara does not have a plan, does he?”

“Most certainly not.” You probably shouldn’t have answered so honestly, especially in the context of the negotiations and your long, strained history with Tobirama Senju, but he was going to deduce it either way. “That is why I am here.”

Tobirama’s bottom lip tensed. You could tell he was trying to fight a disdainful scowl. He wasn’t doing a great job.

“Did my brother not already pay a visit to the Uchiha dwellings?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Did I not already try offering you my deepest apologies—” You hummed in confirmation. — “To which you had refused?”

“You can offer your apologies in a different way—you know politics and formalities. You are good with your words. Seeing you at the unity banquet was enough to know this.” You squared your shoulders, tilting your chin up. Your gaze drifted away momentarily as you fished for the documents in your robes. “You may offer your apologies by assisting the Uchiha in formulating a compelling proposal—”

“Absolutely not.”

— “That will ensure our fair share of resources and land in the unified village. And the Senju will back us on the matters we pursue.” You held out the notes you took. Tobirama barely craned his neck to glance at them before he crossed his arms over his chest. “That is how you can repent for laying your hands on me… and for striking down Izuna.”

Tobirama’s piercing gaze flickered up to yours. He apparently gave up his efforts to suppress his scowl.

“You are absolutely mad.”

“I believe that I am being fairly calm.”

He leaned forward, bending slightly at the waist. His arms were still coiled over his chest.

“You are absolutely out of your head,” Tobirama corrected, gesturing to his temple before returning to his upright position. You understood that one. Tobirama nearly waved you off then and there. “You know that what you demand is impossible, just as much as it is ethically dubious. You cannot expect this of me with any ounce of true seriousness. This is all not to mention that the thing you hold is hardly even a proposal! They, they— they are scribbles at best.”

“If your answer is no, then perhaps your clan— as well as the others— should be aware of your actions,” you snapped, pulling out the weapon that Tobirama was waiting all this time to hear. “The Uchiha are out of their league. I would rather utilize your skillset than cause waves amongst the clans, but I will do so if I must.”

“If that is what you deem appropriate, then so be it,” Tobirama spoke sharply. A pang reverberated throughout your chest. He had called your bluff. “Actions have consequences, and I am ready to atone for my own.”

“I am presenting a way for you to now.”

“I would have much preferred if you struck me if I can speak candidly,” Tobirama muttered. He shifted where he stood, shaking his head. His shoulder jerked back to adjust the way his robes sat. “I cannot play advisor for Madara. I apologize; I cannot do this for you… There are boundaries for these things.”

Tobirama spoke in the way he always did: neutrally, resigned, and lacking in true harshness despite the nature of his words. He stared at you, once again waiting for you to speak.

“Well then,” you spoke, having little clue what was actually going to come out of your mouth next. You stood a bit straighter, steeling your resolve. You placed a hand over your chest. “Play advisor to me. Review what I have written. Ensure that Hashirama supports it by daylight.”

Tobirama said nothing as he quirked an eyebrow. And slowly, his cold exterior began to crack from the brows down. He snorted, his shoulders bouncing as his head dropped into an amused swivel.

You hardly noticed how your breath hitched or when you began holding it. But when the air left your chest, it did so with a stuttering, burning huff. The hiccups between the stream of air held the remaining face you held.

And not one to be laughed at, you turned to leave.

Tobirama only spoke as you began to march away.

“Alright.”

The singular word made you freeze in your tracks. Tobirama’s head dipped again somewhere behind you, bobbing a few times as his arms uncoiled and his hands found his hips. By the time you turned around, Tobirama’s mouth had formed a tight line, barely restraining the amused smirk that tugged at his cheeks.

“Pardon?” You blinked.

“Alright,” he repeated, the semblance of a smile melting into a serious expression once more. “My debt is to you, not Madara,” he hummed with a bounce of his brows. “I will take a look at your drafts as long as they were written by you.” Tobirama nodded in affirmation, gesturing toward you to accent his counteroffer.

You breathed in, an awful pang reverberating through your chest. Overcome by a moment of pure instinct and guts, you hadn’t thought he’d take you seriously.

Wait—

“And you are aware that I know nothing of politics!” You gulped, a part of you thinking that perhaps Tobirama would revoke his consent in favor of your earlier proposition.

What were you thinking?

“Not much less than Madara from your explanation,” Tobirama muttered with another bounce of his light eyebrows.

“That is different!” you snapped. “Madara is at least a—”

The sight of Tobirama’s narrowing eyes made you falter. They moved almost independently of the rest of his face, shrinking inward in scrutiny before returning to their original size. It all happened with one subtle beat, but it was enough to throw you off your train of thought.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Tobirama continued,

“You have put these ideas belonging to Madara to paper. Continue to do this. Probe him for details, granted he has them, and have the draft approved by Madara. I will assist you in polishing the final product.” Tobirama nodded, almost seeming to warm up the idea in real time as the corner of his mouth dipped in thought. “The Uchiha will receive what they fight for— I cannot make guarantees— but in terms of atonement, I agree to guide your strategy.”

Your strategy. He spoke as if you were some military officer.

“It is a deal.” You didn’t give yourself time to think. You couldn’t afford it, and if you changed your mind later, you were sure you could burn that bridge when you got to it. He was giving you exactly what you wanted, after all. You had little room to complain after the fact.

You offered Tobirama a nod, wanting little else than to retreat. But when you turned on your heel to disappear into the night, Tobirama called your name.

It spilled from his lips in an almost questioning tone, as if he had something to add, but the fact that he had called you at all made you stop in your tracks. The syllables sounded weird coming from him, and it occurred to you that it was the first time you heard him speak your name in years.

You turned, your heart beating heavily and steady in your chest as you met Tobirama’s eye. He cleared his throat.

“The blackmail—” His head dipped as if you were trying to hide the way his lips contorted into a slight smile before his gaze returned to yours. —“It was a nice touch.”

Your voice stalled in your throat.

“I am sure that it will make you think twice the next time you are about to behave brutishly,” you oped with a frown. It was officially too late in the night for further repartee.

“Certainly it shall.” Tobirama bowed his head, and when he looked up, you were gone.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Part of me wanted to make everything up until now split into Act I and Act II, with this section being maybe Act II or III. Because it feels like a different story, doesn't it? And it feels like it's just starting. This is where the crux of what I wanted to write is actually coming which is crazy. Go figure... 11 chapters of set up.

A recommendation for the Madara fans; The Head, The Neck (Madara x Reader) reads like an alternate universe in which you let Madara marry you. Unfortunately, 'tis only a oneshot. Foul Creature did have a sister series that also took place in the village negotiations and featured Madara as the main love interest. However, I don't think I'll drop the link to that since I don't have plans to update it anytime soon.

I think I'm going to set a loftier goal for the next chapter. I miss Yonji and want to write a chapter of ... And the Beast before chapter 12 of this series. This one is also so long it should be enough content to hold everyone over. Let's set it at 100 likes and 50 reblogs, no restrictions. See you later.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

| Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)|

Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

#Tobirama x reader #naruto x reader #Tobirama senju #Tobirama senju x reader #tobirama #naruto #naruto fanfic #naruto reader insert #reader insert #naruto fanfiction #Madara x reader #fic: foul creature #x reader #x you #naruto x y/n #naruto x you

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muffinlance · 9 months ago

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Do you get the impression the live action is treating us like utter morons?? Like I thought that making it aimed at an older audience would open the doors for more subtle story telling, but no, they're just using monologues to tell us eveything! Like in the second episode Katara's like 'oh his power isn't that he's the avatar, it's that he ~connects~ to people'. Girl we're not idiots we can see that!! And the first episode with Aang's goddawful 'I don't want this responsibility' monologue

THIS, YES. The word that keeps coming to mind is definitely "subtlety". The show for literal children? Had it. The remake for adults? Not so much.

#This is literally Storytelling 101: Show Don't Tell #I'm sorry scriptwriters I know you were working before your union won minimal staffing in writers' rooms and decent pay and all that #but You Know What You Did #Also cgi artists plz unionize #A few more hours on Momo would have maybe taken him further out of the nightmare monkey puppet category #I know some people are reporting him as cute #But all I can see is a creature from the Magnus Archives #that thing is the skin of Momo being worn by something that doesn't quite move right underneath #And maybe it is looking for a better fit #Don't let it touch you adorable child actor Aang #avatar the last airbender #atla #natla #Anyone looking to block the live action posts I'll be tagging all of these with that natla tag going forward #But yeah not going to post about it much #I came I saw I deemed it not worth the hours of my life it asked #I can literally write a better Avatar AU than this #Anyway back to Toph beating up Blind Zuko!#*write write write"#(their big budget fanfic can't hurt me it can only introduce more fans to the original)

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angel-sweets666 · 6 months ago

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Sweetheart~

The creature x fem!reader

a frilly pink outsider from New Orleans finds a undead love sick man, and doesn’t know what to do with him! chapter one Warning: swearing, possible drug use, murder.

word count 1,325

A/N HIIIIIII, I sent an ask to a writer on here a few days ago and I had the idea to write the fanfic myself! just thought it would be cute and I wanted to try and write it in my own style! This is gonna be in multiple parts in a series! Hopefully about ten parts maybe more with some one shots in between while writing (by the way I haven’t watched Lisa Frankenstein yet because it’s not out in Australia so im obviously going to be missing a few parts, I’ll try to fit them in as flash backs)

It had been a few days since *name* had found The creature, he broke into her room after leaving her mother’s rosary on his grave. Since then *Name* had been keeping him hidden away from her family in her closet, however trying to hide him from her snoopy step sister, taffy; seemed to be easier said then done. change of pov

“I mean! Is it so weird to drink milk from the carton?” You asked this zombie thing, he stared at you then shrugged “your soooo much help…” you rolled my eyes. “So like… is it peaceful down there? In the grave?” You questioned him, he slowly groaned and shook his head; his way of saying no “I would ask what’s it like but I’m far too lazy” you giggled, placing a joint into your mouth then turning your head to look at him. The creature looked disapproving, but as of right now he couldn’t show much emotion; he didn’t have eyebrows and was missing a hand and his ear. “What? People smoked cigars in your day. You probably smoked cigars!” You exclaimed, he groaned and reached his good hand to try and “confiscate” your joint “ah! No. This was a good $30.” You pulled your hand away “I’ll quit, trust. Anyways, WHAT DO I WEAR TO SCHOOL” you groaned

You ended up finding an outfit that both you, taffy and the creature agreed on. A light coloured (your choice) wool sweater, a black mini skirt, some black leggings, white leg warmers and black Mary Jane’s with little bows on them with your hair curled and in a half up half down with a bow. This frilly pink style often got you picked on and snickered at by your peers, you looked like THE biggest girly girl in the whole world. It was 1989 and you weren’t exactly the most popular.

in the car

Taffy grinned to you “soo… anyone you think is hot yet..?” She giggles “Uhm…. No” I chuckled “oh.. that one guys kind of cu-” “WHO TELL ME RIGHT NOW, NO WAIT DONT TELL ME, NO WAIT DO. DO TELL ME” she squealed into your ear “that uh.. micheal Trent guys kind of cute” she made a face “eaugh….” (Honey you slept with him…..) “what..?!” You yelled “WHY HIM?” “CAUSE HES A CUTIEE” “whatever you say” “I do say, I do” you rolled your eyes “yk most sisters are supportive right?” You told her “Mkay, they support good decisions” she said as she turned a right the car “schools to the left taf’” you reminded her “I wanna get some iced coffee” she said like it was nothing “WERE GONNA BE LATE” “SHUT UP NO WERE NOT JESUS H CHRIST”

after school (sorry for all the time skips but this is a creature x reader not let’s watch taffy and reader argue about coffee)

“uGHhhHhH school suckeds” you groaned as I walked into your room, slumping against the wooden door resulting in it shutting, the creature looked at you with furrowed brow, confused by the statement “yes they let girls go to school. It’s 1989 get with the times” the creature groaned and lifted its hand or rather lack there of “I can’t.. I can’t just get you new parts…” you told him, shrugging. He threw a little zombie tantrum, groaning and flopping onto the bed“calm down calm down!” You yelled as you tried to hold him down, grabbing his upper arm to hold the undead man in place “look I can’t get get you new pa-“*NAME LAST NAME*” a horrible screech came from your step mothers throat, clearly trying to pick yet another fight. “Go go go” you said quietly as you ushered the creature into your closet, shutting the wooden door in his face. “…yes..?!” You replied to her, she opened your door “what.. the hell.. is wrong with you?” She gets into your face “what I do?” You looked confused to her “you’re talking to yourself, throwing things. You lied to us telling us our house got broken into! That was fine china you threw!You’re going crazy aren’t you? Trying to get the towns attention because you had your old towns attention? Your nothing but a joke, a mentally ill joke.” She snaps “huh?!” “You know what I’m going to throw you into a mental facility, just to get rid of you…” you gasped, shook your head and backed away slowly “no…” you whispered, trying to avoid such misery “yes.. impatient lock down!” You gasped again “special socks n all” suddenly, a loud smack and a sickening cracking noise. The creature had grabbed the old sewing machine and slammed it onto Janet’s head “oh good lord..” you backed away and began to whimper, the creature waddles towards you and tried to hug you to calm you down, wrapping his strong but cold and dead arms around you. You whimpered and cried since now you felt like your responsible for a dead woman. He pulled away from the hug, made a groan then twisted his body towards the night table and grabbing the scissors off it. The creature leaned down and slowly, sliced off Janet’s pierced ear. The red blood poured down her makeup caked face, going down with the blood she was already gargling up and onto the carpet. The creature stood up, and held up the blood covered ear, offering it to you. With shaky hands you slowly grabbed it “d-do you want me to Uhm.. uh.. oh god…sew it back on..?”

The creatures cold and curly haired head laid in your lap, as you secured Janet’s now amputated ear to the left side of his head, double checking it was inline with the rest of his head and in the right spot for his side burns. “I don’t think.. can you hear out of it..?” You asked, yanking at the ear “can you feel it?” You questioned the undead man again, he groaned “okay yeah I forgot you don’t have a tongue.” You sighed

(flash back)

“maybe you wanna try laying in my tanning bed? Get some colour in ya?” Taffy suggested as she pat your cheek “I’m good, that thing would electrocute me.” You chuckled as you applied lip gloss, trying to get ready for a party that taffy was going to drag you to then have to take you home early like she always did. “Cmon! You’ll look good.. trust me” she smiled comfortingly “okay fine.. pass the sunscreen” you decided to humour her, holding your hand out for the plastic bottle of spf. As you went to lay down in the tanning bed, a spark hit you, then two, then three. Then…. Crack . It electrocuted you “TAFFY!” “okay I’m really sorry you got electrocuted earlier, I didn’t know it would do that .”, you huffed disappointingly

you ended up getting harrassed that night by a short guy called Doug, he kept trying to hit on you and sexually assault you. He made you incredibly uncomfortable

end of flash back

“Didn’t you say you were killed and brought back by a lightning strike, maybe electricity can add things to you!” You squealed in surprise as you rushed him down the stairs and into the magenta tanning bed. Your hand reached towards the crank, putting it into a certain level and then stepping back to see if it would work. Sparks flew in all sorts of directions, left right and centre. “Please don’t be hurt please don’t be hurt” you begged quietly, then a ding! Like an oven saying it’s finished baking, our little zombie boy was finished baking! As you opened the lid and he slowly, but hilariously sat up like a vampire. You decided to see if he could heat “can you hear me!” You yelled and he groaned “can ya?! Yeah!?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” you kept yelling and he kept groaning. “OH MY GOD IT WORKED! HOLY SHITTTT” you clapped excitedly.

a/n sorry it’s short it’s one of my first fanfics, I hope you enjoyed and tell me if you want some more!

#lisa frankenstein #the creature lisa frankenstein #the creature x reader #Lisa Frankenstein fanfic #The creature fanfic #The creature Lisa Frankenstein x reader #Fluff #smut #he’s so silly

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crow-aeris · 2 months ago

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okay but like, imagine an animal lover damian befriending a kelpie!Tim drake? Like damian wanders into a swamp to sketch some birds, and he sees this horse that's- wrong, but he's too much of a sucker to back down. So he researches horses, and damian keeps feeding tim

since kelpies sometimes have human forms, i think it'd be neat for him to bring tim back to the manor and everyone's freaking out because on one hand, this teen damian just brought back is giving really weird vibes- but on the other hand, damian has a friend!!

also, i think the thought of damian setting up a kiddie pool for tim and the batfam walking in on tim becoming a demon horse is just funny

#kelpie #tim drake #batman #batfam #batfamily #damian wayne #fanfic #fic ideas #mythical creatures #kelpie tim drake #damian

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writeyouin · 18 days ago

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D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 2 of 2

Chapter 2 – Megatron or D-16?

A/N – Finally, it’s ready. Here’s hoping this holds up to part one.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Megatron held you at your request. He didn’t know why you wanted to be up, only that you did and he was only too happy to comply, and that he had to hold onto that feeling. You were the only thing he had left that brought him any shred of happiness. Everything else was a toxic poison coursing through his body, leaving only hate and anger in its wake.

You stood in Megatron’s palm, trying to see the D-16 you knew before in his optics. They were a violent red, leaving no trace of the warm amber glow his eyes used to have. Moreover, Megatron used to laugh and relay stories back and forth to you or Orion. Now, he mostly frowned.

You reached out to touch him, your hand falling to his chassis where a brand new Megatronus insignia had been branded onto him, covering over the one Sentinel had burned him with. Megatron had claimed the symbol, owning it for the new Decepticon army.

At your touch, Megatron vented a soft gust of warm air, wondering what you were thinking as you pawed at his insignia. He wished that you could see it as the symbol of a new age as it was supposed to be, but he guessed that you would always remember the one that Sentinel had marred him with. He would remember too. He had to.

After disappearing on his life-changing quest with Orion, D-16 had worried about you, but he figured that the other miners would take care of you. In that, he was only half-right.

When the miners were told that he and Orion had died from their injuries in the race, they panicked, scared that they wouldn’t be able to help you leave the planet since they were the lower class. So, one of them had taken you to Sentinel, explaining what you were and coming up with a cover story for how you had gotten on Cybertron.

Sentinel, having guessed that you were once a Quintesson prisoner, pretended to believe the story, and reassured the mech that he would see to it that his top-bots found you a way home.

After that, he kept you prisoner in a gilded cage, his pet now since you wouldn’t give him any information on the missing miners' whereabouts.

When D-16 and the High Guard were captured, you met D-16’s eyes and he became even more furious, wondering how you had gotten there and what Sentinel had done to you.

Before that day, you already admired D-16, but your admiration turned to complete adoration and contrarily, fear as he kept standing up in the face of adversity. He wouldn’t be kept down, no matter what they did to him. You cried to see your friend hurt, but you didn’t scream or do anything further to draw attention to yourself, afraid that if you did, Sentinel would torture D-16 further.

Now, you were here, on one of Cybertron’s moons in a base that the Decepticons had constructed very quickly, being efficient builders, and the war with Cybertron was about to begin.

Megatron lifted your hand with his free servo, gently rolling his thumb pad over it. He wanted you to see him, not the person he used to be behind the insignia. You stared up at him.

“Talk to me,” He told you, gently.

You took a minute to think about what you needed to say.

You understood why the Decepticons had to go to war. It was like Megatron said; when he tried to talk to them, they had clung to the old ways and a new leader had arisen to take Sentinel’s place. Another false Prime – Optimus Prime. He had attacked Megatron and the high guard and then banished them from their home under the threat that they would not be left for long.

Still, knowing why the war was happening wasn’t enough. You needed more than that. You glanced outside the windows of the command centre, seeing the High Guard working ceaselessly.

One more look to Megatron and you knew what you had to say.

“Is this the only way? To fight? To kill?”

Megatron was saddened to see you so upset, but he clung to his resolve, no mercy left within him.

“Yes. There is no room for a peaceful resolve unless those on the surface join our ranks.”

“Are you scared?” You asked in a very small voice, indicating that you were terrified for him.

Megatron stroked your cheek, “No, and nor should you be. I will keep you safe.” And he would. He would do everything in his power to protect you from harm, including lying to you to save you from anything that might hurt your feelings. You were his precious pet and Megatron always took care of what belonged to him.

Some of the High Guard wondered about you, a human among their ranks. They would have tried to research you, had there been any information about something so alien. But without their records from Iacon, they had little ability to look into your kind and simply decided to leave Megatron with his pet. Later in the war, they might have rebelled against you, but after Megatron’s victory against Sentinel, they trusted their new leader. It wasn’t yet time for schisms, underhanded plots for mutiny, or general scheming; those would come much, much later.

As it was, Shockwave was responsible for providing you with a home, and the process didn’t take him long. It was less of a room built for you, and more like furniture your size based on your descriptions that had been put into Megatron’s hab-suite.

When Megatron took you to see it, he enjoyed the way your expression lit up. He had almost reacted the same when he saw that he had his own room for the very first time in his life. Yet, he hadn’t been able to find enough joy in his situation. So, he had a room that he didn’t have to share with a few dozen miners. What did that matter when a war was brewing?

But holding you… Seeing you happy? That was worth something.

“Is this-” Megatron almost said to your liking, but decided instead to focus on functionality, “Is this adequate?”

You hopped off his palm and onto the desk that held just about everything you needed, which was a relief since you had lost most of the items in your pack at the Battle of Iacon. Trailing your hand gently over a bed, very robotic in design, but comfortable and made from repurposed cleaning cloths, you smiled.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Megatron ran a finger down your cheek, “No need to thank me.” He watched you as you moved things about, perfecting everything that you needed, and then later he watched you recharge. How perfect it was, giving you exactly what you needed. He would make you dependent on him; you would never need anyone else ever again. He would make you love him. After losing everything, he needed that much.

“Excuse me, Shockwave?” You said, feeling small. By now, you usually felt confident around Cybertronians, but you found Shockwave and some of the High Guard unnerving.

The Cyclops-Bot stared at you, saying nothing, and generally making you feel more uncomfortable.

“Um, Megatron told me to come to you if I need anything…?”

Shockwave didn’t know why you were saying it like it was a question. You were either told to come to him or you weren’t. Life had no place for statistical fallacy.

Seeing as he didn’t reply, you pulled your pack off your back, opening it for him to see the contents as you withdrew them.

“Each of these dehydrated cubes is a meal. I need to consume two or three a day,” You explained. “As you can see, I’m running low, and even if I wasn’t, this isn’t the best state for my food to be in. I need food. Real, fresh food, or- Or I’m going to die.”

Shockwave didn’t seem alarmed by the statement. He didn’t seem to feel anything. Instead, he glanced at your dwindling supplies, noting exactly how long you could survive. He didn’t understand much about your fuel, though he thought it inefficient as he scanned the contents, finding many perishable components, had they not been dehydrated.

Finally, after a long and stressful silence in which he examined both your pack and you, he relented. “I shall take care of it.”

You were so happy that you didn’t think to ask about the details of Shockwave’s plan. Instead, you smiled and bounced on the balls of your feet, “Thank you, Shockwave.”

Shockwave watched you walk away. He generally didn’t understand the concept of pets, but you were cute enough, he supposed.

Turning back to his newly set up data console, Shockwave began researching the nearest planets that were home to organic species. Seeing how small you were, he believed that organics would be easy enough to subjugate. With that in mind, he began drafting the first invasion plans. Not only would the Decepticons take the fuel you needed but they would also strip the planet of all its valuable resources, giving the Decepticons a technological edge over the Autobots. Later, Megatron would tell you that the Decepticons had made trade deals with several organic planets, never revealing that you were the starting cause behind his slave empire, and you would be spoiled with lavish gifts, ignorant of their origin.

Starscream stared at your sleeping form and then back to Megatron.

“I can’t look after this thing,” He argued.

Though Megatron had bested Starscream once, he hadn’t yet grown to fear his master and as such, was testing his limits.

“You can and you will,” Megatron ordered.

There were arguably better candidates to care for you, especially Soundwave who was used to smaller beings from playing host to some Cassettes. But this wasn’t a question of who you got along with or who would be best suited to watch over you. It was a test of allegiance. Besides, the more bots that Megatron kept on rotation to ‘pet-sit’ you, the more would know how to care for you when he was away.

Megatron needed to see you taken care of, even if he didn’t like leaving you with others, especially if he thought of them touching you. He shouldn’t care this much, but the last person he had entrusted with you had been the very one to betray him. He didn’t want to think of you trusting anyone like that traitor Orion… Optimus. He didn’t want any kind of bond like that in his life again, not for himself or you.

Standing his ground while Starscream prattled on about being the Commander of the High Guard, Megatron snarled. He pointed his cannon at Starscream which was enough to make the weaker mech backtrack, begging for his life.

“You will do as I say.”

Starscream nodded, holding his hands out in surrender, “Yes, of course. Your pet will be well cared for, Megatron.”

“That’s Lord Megatron to you.”

“Of- Of course. Lord Megatron,” Starscream bowed, humiliation coursing through him; it was a feeling that would one day transform into loathing. Megatron left his subordinate, satisfied with how easy it was to subjugate another to his will. He wondered how you would look bowing to him, then turned his mind against such thoughts. He didn’t want to frighten you into worshipping him; he would become someone worthy of your adoration.

You mumbled D-16’s name, waking from a deep sleep. Had you been more alert, you might have thought about how worrying it was that you had come to rely on Megatron so quickly or that you had called him by his old name and that he was no longer that bot you met just a short while ago.

Instead, your thoughts were disturbed by Starscream throwing you some new clothes that Shockwave had acquired from another planet. They were the vestments of the Royal Family until Megatron had ordered their deaths; now the clothes were yours, and far superior in quality than your previous garments.

“Put those on,” He ordered, not caring whether you did or not.

You blinked owlishly at Starscream, having never been left alone with him before.

“Where’s Megatron?” You asked, despite being somewhat used to his leaving regularly to attend meetings, start trade deals with other planets, or draft new battle strategies.

Starscream rolled his optics, “What a clingy pet. Can’t you be away from Megatron for a few kliks before whining?”

You scowled at the mech, “I’m not a pet.”

“And I’m not a pet-sitter, but here we are,” Starscream griped.

You shook your head and got to work tinkering with some little projects you had started. During the Battle of Iacon, most of the items had been damaged when you fell on your pack. Fortunately, having worked on the Translator for so long, you weren’t bad at mechanics now, though a lot of your tinkering was mostly experimentation. So, rather than waste any time conversing with the bot who treated you like an unwanted mutt, you continued your work on your new shower unit, since your collapsable service station needed some repairs in that department and regrettably, you were starting to smell.

When Megatron returned he was injured, having lost to Optimus Prime for the second time. The loss enraged him, but it didn’t worry him. Optimus may have had the power of the Primes, but Megatron learned a lot from that battle, and in the end, he was certain that his strategy and cunning would win over Prime’s strength.

Besides, it hadn’t been a total loss. The other Decepticons had managed to spread their message through Iacon, and there were already a handful of bots who had returned to the Luna base with Megatron. With the new recruits all ready for an uprising, Megatron was preparing to send some of them back undercover, so they could further spread the message of the Decepticon cause.

Before entering his hab-suite, Megatron straightened up, hiding most of the damage behind bravado, despite the energon that leaked from his side. There could be no signs of weakness.

He expected to see you in his hab-suite, but you weren’t there. So, Starscream had taken you elsewhere. Megatron was about to begin repairing himself when he heard you cry out. It was faint, and more of a shout than a scream, but it sent him spiralling all the same.

He ran to find you, following the sound of your voice.

“GET OFF,” You shouted.

Megatron ran faster.

“STOP SQUIRMING!” Starscream yelled back.

Megatron burst into the wash racks, finding you soaked in Starscream’s grip, the water washing over both of you. Starscream was tugging at your old clothes, partially victorious as the seams ripped, uncovering your arm and part of your chest. You gritted your teeth and slapped at his hand.

Seeing all of this, Megatron gritted his dentae and smashed into Starscream, being careful to grab his arm and pull you from his grasp.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Starscream demanded.

Megatron held you against his chassis possessively, “When (Y/N) says stop, you stop. Their commands are my commands. Now, I demand to know what you were doing to my pet!”

You stared up at Megatron, shocked that he would call you such a thing. He knew what you were now, so why would he treat you like an animal? You didn’t like it.

“I’m not a pet,” You murmured, but neither mech seemed to hear you, glaring at one another in a silent power struggle.

Losing his nerve, Starscream bowed his head.

“I was merely washing your precious pet,” He sneered. “It stank.”

“Not a pet,” You repeated, but your words fell on deaf ears.

Starscream got up from the floor and sauntered out of the wash racks. Megatron’s optics tracked him, all the while a seed of hatred forming for his Second in Command. When Starscream was out of sight, Megatron held you up for inspection. You had your arms crossed to protect your chest, and you were staring angrily down at the floor. The water made the remains of your outfit cling to you, making you feel even smaller and more vulnerable.

Honestly, Megatron had little right to be so furious at Starscream. He too didn’t understand the significance of your clothing, only that the coverings were important to you.

“Are you okay, pet?” He said, gently stroking your cheek.

You pushed his hand away, “I’M NOT YOUR PET!”

Megatron stared at you, open-mouthed. You’d never yelled at him before.

“Do you get that?” You asked, brow furrowing. “You used to, but it’s like you’ve forgotten. I’m a person, just like you. Do you understand?”

Megatron thought back to the person he had been, comparing it to who he was now, and who he wanted to be in the future. You wanted D-16 back, but he wasn’t that anymore. Yet… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be D-16 around you, just a little bit.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I never meant to imply-” He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

For the moment, it seemed that D-16 was back, and things were just like they had always been. You were about to say something equally sentimental, until you saw the trickle of energon, washing down the drain.

“You’re hurt!”

Megatron shook his helm, “It’s nothing.”

“No,” You cried out. “It’s not nothing!”

“I’ll patch it up in our room. You can take care of yourself there too.”

You were staring at him. Megatron couldn’t help smiling a little at your concern. As promised, he had patched himself up with a welding iron. It had been painful, but he hadn’t shown any signs of it.

You meanwhile, were in your new clothes, having sorted yourself out and dried off.

Megatron stood from his chair, leaving the tools he had used for self-repair on the desk.

He scooped you up, holding you to his face, “I’m alright. I promise.”

You shook your head, unwilling to believe him. Megatron chuckled, supposing that you couldn’t believe it since such an injury would have been fatal to your kind. Yet, he was wrong in trying to guess your thoughts. Physically, you knew Megatron would recover easily, but to recover psychologically? You wondered if he ever would.

Maybe it was because of everything he had gone through before you met, being a slave to a corrupt system, or maybe it was because of Orion’s death, but despite his apology earlier, you couldn’t help seeing the difference between D-16 and Megatron.

Still, he hadn’t abandoned you, and you wouldn’t abandon him. Megatron was going through something traumatic, and as he said, the war was inevitable. It would be hard on anybody, and you wanted to help him through it.

You glanced down to his welded side which he would undoubtedly buff out later to make it look as if nothing ever happened.

“Does it still hurt?”

Megatron couldn’t help adoring the soft melancholy lilt of your voice; the concern that was all for him.

He tilted your chin up so you were looking into his eyes instead of at his failure, “It hurts less when you’re here.”

Your eyes flicked towards Megatron’s lips and you felt your cheeks start to burn. Lately, you had begun imagining things. You wanted to be closer to Megatron, to share some intimate moments with him, but that was impossible; you two weren’t the same.

Seeing your flushed skin and your darting eyes, Megatron smiled, looking the closest to being D-16 that he had in a while. You were so easy to read.

Perhaps it was time to show you the little trick he had been practising; it would leech him of his energy but he was certain that it would be worth it.

Megatron lowered you to his desk.

“Close your eyes,” He requested.

Although you had a lot on your mind, you did as he asked; at that moment, you knew you would have likely done anything for him.

Megatron mass displaced so he was closer to your size. It was difficult to become so small, but he managed to shrink down to around nine feet. Originally, mass displacement was taught to working-class Cybertronians so they could shrink down and enter the Underground to make repairs. Everyone was told that it was more energy-effective than using mini-bots, but the truth was that mini-bots were kept as slaves, being seen as even lesser than the worker-bots; they were hardly worth keeping online, and nobody in the Senate wanted to risk giving them repair tools for larger jobs in case they started a rebellion.

Now, Megatron had also learned mass displacement, for you.

He placed a servo to the small of your back, giddy when you opened your eyes in shock. He traced down your jawline with his other hand, lightly thumbing over your chin. How perfectly you fit against him now.

Dipping down, he pressed his lips to yours. Metal against flesh; two different worlds colliding.

You gave yourself over to him.

Little was right in your life since you were taken by the Quintessons, but this moment was perfect… Or it would be if you could fight the niggling in your mind that warned you all was not right with the Decepticons. Megatron’s servo bunched in your hair. You moaned against him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You could ignore those thoughts. You had to. Needed to. What else could you do when you had foolishly let yourself fall in love?

As Megatron’s paramour, you were given more freedom as Decepticon successes rose. Or rather, you were given the fragile illusion of more freedom. You were taken to the few organic planets that Megatron had made ‘trade deals’ with thus far. The threat of their destruction kept the people in line, and you were treated with all the respect of a visiting dignitary. If you tried, you would have seen the terror in the faces of those conquered, but with Megatron distracting you as if you were on a date, you chose the easy path. It was easy to run from suffering when you didn’t want to believe in it.

You were given a communicator which Megatron told you had been built for you, but it had actually been ripped from a now deceased Autobot’s helm. You were provided anything you needed, and more beyond that. However, all of it ceased to matter on the day you saw Orion Pax, alive and well.

Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime had received word that Megatron had conquered a nearby planet and enslaved its people. Fully believing that you had perished in the Battle of Iacon, the Autobot leader vowed to free the planet your name, knowing that it’s what you would have wanted for your organic kin.

That was when you both saw each other, Optimus lowering his blaster and you standing atop Megatron’s shoulder.

“Orion,” You breathed his name, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, yet Megatron heard; how could he not when you were standing right next to his audials?

Megatron glowered at Optimus, feeling extra possessive of you since the Prime had stolen everything from him and banished him from his home. He wouldn’t be allowed to take you too.

Megatron grabbed you roughly, partially transforming his chest cavity and shoving you inside. His pet, his lover, his possession, his captive; you were his! Optimus glared at Megatron. Keeping you captive was not an option, he would not allow it. Pointing at his ex-friend, Optimus gave the command, “AUTOBOTS, ROLL OUT!”

Megatron shook with rage, fear, sadness, hatred.

He held your lifeless body in his cupped servos. Granted, Optimus Prime had held back in the fight, but his damned Autobots hadn’t, and now you were gone.

You were the last thing Megatron had and you too had been ripped away from him.

That was it then. No more mercy, no more holding back. No more attachments.

All Autobots would be scrapped, and all the worthless organics of the universe would be destroyed or enslaved. Megatron refused to ever get close to an organic ever again. None would ever make up for you and he would not risk opening his spark to another being.

Ha, that was a joke. He couldn’t offer his spark to anyone anyway. It had been snuffed out. He was hollow. Just a shell for the seething rage to fill.

He was Megatron, and he didn’t need anybody.

He left your body to burn in the ashes of the organic planet, but Optimus picked you up, determined to give you a proper burial. To the Prime’s surprise, he saw you take in a tiny breath of air. You weren’t dead, but you would be if he didn’t get you away from the dying world. You needed air, you needed a doctor, you needed freedom.

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