#things get funky next chapter

[fukcnoplease]

Things Always Go Wrong Pt3

Pt1 Pt2 Pt4 Pt5

Gotham was truly testing her abilities. Usually she could vibe check the building and be good but the vibes of Gotham were rancid everywhere she went. Every building and street had some varying level of unsafe and she could feel Danny slowing behind her. He wasn't going to stay on his feet for much longer. Thankfully there were plenty of alleys they could probably hide in and even though it was already midmorning the thick smog on the city made it look like the dawn had only just broken. The alleys were still dark and as soon as she paused at the back of the alley she felt Danny collapse into her. His breathing was ragged and he was slick with sweat. She tried vibrating her core at him and the response she got was uncoordinated and harsh. It was as if two things were trying to respond to her, attempting to drown each other out.

“Shit.” she said. Jazz would be mad for her language, you know, if she didn't kill her for killing her brother. 

“Found you, wretch.” A voice said and Dani shot up into a fighting stance. The entrance of the alley was blocked by five people, all dress head to toe in white and aiming several weapons at them. They were all men and significantly bigger than her. That would be fine in her ghost form but transforming in front of them was risky.

Danny groaned from the cold alley floor and Dani grimaced. She growled, inhumane and low, and punched her palm as she went ghost. Showing her transformation was a small price to pay to protect Danny and they probably had her, or Danny’s, ecto-signature if they had managed to follow them cross state lines so accurately. 

Their weapons hummed as they charged and Dani caught a glimpse of color above them. Praying she had seen right she took in a breath and shouted her words.

“I am the princess of the Infinite Realms. Any harm that comes to me is a direct attack on the entire dimension of the Infinite Realms and cause for a war between our worlds!” Internally she cringed at her words but she prayed they had the right effect. 

“Ha! Like you could fool us, you manipulative ecto-sum! You’re coming with us. If you're lucky you might even make it in one piece” The leader, she assumed as he was standing at the front of the group, said. She tensed in case her gamble went south and prepared for something to hit her. 

Thankfully she didn't feel anything and a yellow hero came crashing down on the agents with a ferocity she wasn't expecting. He used what she thought were escrima sticks but they were connected together with a long wire and looked modified. He downed the panicked agents in seconds and turned to Dani. Unconscious agents littered around him.

His sudden movements made her drop into a defensive stance and he froze. Gently putting away his weapons as he raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just trying to help.” The man paused as he looked over the two disheveled siblings. The white haired girl was glaring at him but looked more wary than aggressive and the dark haired boy on the floor looked incredibly ill. “Would it be ok if I helped you? I can call some friends and we can get you to a safe space.”

Dani stared the man down. He could fight, and right now she wasn't confident she could take him. Not while protecting a very incapacitated Danny. He had a black bat symbol on his chest which was good but also bad. Good because Batman was a hero and helped those in need. Bad because Batman was famous for not liking metas and while she and Danny weren’t metas she doubted Batman would care enough to make the distinction. Hopefully if she played up the royalty bit she could get maybe some leeway.

“Ok, bumblebee, but I want you to promise you wont hurt me or my… ambassador,” Danny was going to be so mad when he woke up, “or I will bring the entire Infinite Realms down on this world.” She did her best to sound threatening and maybe using some energy to make herself scarier but she wouldn't admit it.

“Of course, your… highness?” Bumblebee asked. Dani frowned, she didn't like ‘your highness’ but she couldn't give her actual name…

“You can call me… Elle.” She felt her insides crumple up at how cringey that name felt and she was very glad Danny was out cold for this conversation. The bumblebee hero nodded and said something into what she assumed was an earpiece. After a few minutes of discussion he went quiet and began watching the roofs. Dani floated off the ground slightly, trying to see what he was looking for. She didn't notice the surprise that flitted across his face at her show of power or the silent black hero who landed gracefully beside Bumblebee. 

“Hey Black Bat. Can you help me gather these guys up? Batman should be en route but might take a minute to get here.” Bumblebee said. Dani whipped around to see the new hero, black bat apparently, silently working her way through the knocked out GIW.

“Batman is coming?” Dani asked, anxiety making her fidget with her hands. That wasn't good. She couldn't pretend to be a princess around him, he could practically smell lies, or fear, and maybe she could be the princess of the Infinite Realms but she wasn't officially! Not yet at least. And Danny definitely wasn't her ambassador. Shit, maybe if she played up with the sad little girl image? Batman was known to take pity on kids… or was that one of his allies. She should’ve listened in on the conversation the bumblebee had had earlier, maybe she would have had something to work with then.

Black bat and bumblebee worked together to tie up the GIW and leave them in an easily accessible spot for when the police came around. Black bat touched bumblebees bicep and he looked up to see the scary shadow of Batman looming over the alley. Dani notices him too and landed in front of Danny, spreading her arms to block him from Batman's view as he landed beside the other heroes.

“Report.” Was all he said as he looked over the scene. His gaze lingered on the unconscious boy and Dani had to resist growling at him, in case that ruined her case for receiving help. Bumblebee took a breath and nodded.

“I found these two as they were about to be attacked by a group of people,” he gestured to the tied up men in white, “it looked like meta trafficking and I stepped in. Elle,” he gave a smile to Dani who cringed internally, “gave the men fair warning about their attack being against royalty and at risk of ruining dimensional relations, they refused to back off.”

Batman responded with a noncommittal ‘hn’ and narrowed his eyes at Dani who prickled under the gaze.

“For the record,” Bumblebee added, a little hesitant, “I believe her.”

Batman nodded and took a step closer to Dani and this time she did growl. The man stopped and regarded her. She glared back. He wasnt coming near her or Danny. Not in his state.

“Would you like to come with us?” Was all batman said. Stern and quiet. Dani didn't move, she looked over Batman’s unmoving face and then back at the bumblebee and black bat. The bumblebee hero looked worried but more for Batman than Dani and the black bat seemed relaxed as she watched.

“Where are you going to take us?” Dani asked. Batman frowned slightly and Dani worried he would just try and grab them. 

“A place where we can keep you safe and confirm your royal status,” he said. Dani didn't really like the sound of that but she could feel Danny getting worse and she was running out of time to make a decision. When he chose that exact moment to let out a pained groan Dani almost smacked him. Batman’s frown deepened and Dani felt her throat bob.

“We might even be able to help your friend.” He offered.

“My ambassador,” She corrected, if she was gonna sell this she had to go all out, “And I don't want you to lay a hand on him.”

Batman gave her the slightest, stiffest nod she had ever seen and she relaxed. Batman nodded to the other heroes and black bat vanished, bumblebee paused before leaving himself. Dani felt her anxiety come back threefold at being left alone with the big bad bat but in a few seconds a fancy black bat shaped car skidded to a halt outside the alley. In the passenger seat was the familiar bumblebee, he grinned and waved at them. Batman stared at him in what Dani thought could be disapproval but said nothing. The doors to the suped up car popped open and bumblebee stepped out.

“You can get in the back seat. Do you need help with your ambassador?” He said as he stepped back into the alley. Dani shook her head and Batman made a grumbling sound.

“Signal.” he said. Bumblebee, signal apparently, shrugged and continued towards Dani until she stiffened.

“I just wanted them to have a familiar face so the journey wasn't too stressful. Black bat and Spoiler are covering me while I stick with them.” He said, smiling at Batman and then turning back to Dani. He moved to help her pick Danny up but she shook her head at him and he stepped back. Batman made another ‘hn’ sound before retreating to the driver seat of the car. 

Dani moved Danny around and picked him up by throwing him over her shoulder. He wasn't heavy but he was bigger than her and it made him difficult to carry. Signal, she preferred bumblebee, hovered around her but was careful not to touch Danny as she carried him to the car. They managed to get Danny securely in the back seat of the batcar and Dani slid in next to him. He looked worse. Maybe moving him wasn't the smartest idea but Dani didn't know what else to do. If the GIW had their ecto-signature there wasn't a safe place to hide. Maybe Batman would be able to protect them but it would only last so long. She pushed aside her fears and gripped Danny’s too warm hand. The scenery went passed too quickly for her to see and the drive was silent. She was starting to hate road trips.

~~

This is short but the next one is gonna be LONG I got distracted anyway I love that people are enjoying this, i like writing it :)

[blackjackkent]

Me> [struggling to unravel a very annoying UI bug]

My brain, entirely unprompted> H E Y. IF JAHEIRA HAD USED SOME MORE MINOR VERSION OF THAT RITE OF THE TIMELESS BODY ON RASAAD TO EXTEND HIS LIFESPAN, IT WOULD RESOLVE THE MORE FINICKY TIMELINE ISSUES ABOUT RION BEING THEIR KID.

Me> ...ok? I didn't ask right now but thank you for working that out I guess.

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##03

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,858

warnings: technically a kiss that is not... desired or consented to? but its quick

a/n: my exams tmr!! i’m shitting bricks lord- also final chapter of bags tmr as well 🤧

series masterlist

main masterlist

You quietly decided to keep your phone on your night table, the cord was a little over-extended from the opposite wall and you were slightly afraid that if you tripped on it the phone would fall to the floor— but it was easier this way; you decided, when James called the next day.

“Hello?” you groaned into the phone, cutting off the loud ringing as fast as you could

“Were you sleeping?”

“Potter?”

“Who else would be calling your phone?”

“Other people also call me- what time is it?”

“Like eleven thirty, didn’t know you were an early sleeper doll”

“Eleven thirty isn't early idiot-” you groaned as you tried rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Didn’t think I was going to hear from you anymore”

“Why is that? I obviously gotta call my best girl”

“You don’t even know me”

“Yes, I do— why did you think I wouldn’t call though? I told you I wanted to be friends you silly girl”

“You said you wanted to be friends— But you hung up yesterday,” you held the phone to your ear, the side of your face still pressed against your pillow. “Rather suddenly too”

“Ah, I’m sorry- you know I’m a little funky with phones-” You could almost hear the hesitation in his voice

“D’you mean hopeless?”

“Oh hush-”

“I don’t believe you by the way- but I’ll let it slide” You sighed, stretching your body a bit

A beat of silence stilled over the two of you.

“Thanks…” you hummed in response “What are you up to?” James said, a smile evident on his words

“I was sleeping Potter, do you know what that means?”

“I have a clue yeah- why are you sleeping so early though?”

“Eleven thirty at night is not early, but I’m meeting someone for breakfast tomorrow- I wanted to be well rested”

“Ohhh you’re meeting someone, is it a boyfriend?” you rolled your eyes

“I don’t think he’d describe us that way” He really wouldn’t, not even close

“Do you wish he would?” the anxiety at the pit of your stomach quickening your heartbeat. 

“Goodnight James” you mumbled, eyes wide open now, you could feel the blood pumping as you lifted to rest on your elbows. 

He didn’t hesitate, seemingly understanding “Goodnight love” 

You hung up.

- 

You guessed you shouldn’t be surprised. You had sat at the small coffee place for an hour and a half yet— not a trace of him. 

You threaded your arms into your coat, grabbing your purse quickly. You felt as if you were running away from embarrassment itself as you crossed the street hurriedly. You caught the sight of the bright red of a pay phone from the corner of your eye, not far from where you stood.

You felt stupid, you decided, as you pulled out the little phone book that you kept in your bag. You had written James’s number in it that morning, you didn’t know why. Stupid stupid stupid.

You sorted through the contents of your purse looking for change to put into the damn box, marking the number soon after. 

The phone rang. Rang. Rang.

Someone picked up 

“Oi-“ didn’t sound like James

“Is James Potter there?”

“Ohhh is this who I think it is?” the voice snickered

“Who’s this?”

“Sirius- James’s more handsome friend,” Sirius said matter-o-factly, you rolled your eyes

“Is James there? You know what-” You looked around, suddenly too aware that he could be just around the corner. 

You didn’t wanna see him. 

“nevermind- I’ll call back later”

“Hello?” a familiar voice broke through 

“James?” you bit your lip, relief flooding through you. you didn’t know why you felt this way

“Yeah, doll- what’s up? I thought you were supposed to be out with your not boyfriend”

“Yeah… I guess he had better things to do this morning” he made a noise of indignation, you felt so stupid “probably with another not girlfriend if we’re honest”

“oh love I’m sorry-“  

“no no, it’s fine really… I really… need to get it through my skull that he’s not particularly interested… it’s not the first time- sorry I called”

“Why would you be sorry?”

“I just didn’t know what else to do”

“that’s what friends are for you know… and we are”

“Thanks, Potter”

“You really won’t let that go huh”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ “Sorry Potter” James laughed, his snickers pulled at the corners of your lips

“Are you spending the rest of the day at home then?”

“Probably— but I’ll call you in a bit yeah? I’d rather leave now, I didn’t think it through before I called” You covered your face with your hand as a group of people passed by. “Im still in the middle of the street”

“How are you calling then?” He sounded genuinely confused

“a pay phone?”

“o-oh… right, call me back when you get home then… or I’ll spam call you again”

“alright alright-“ you both laughed, light and airy. breathless “Thank you, James”

You hung up the call, still gripping the handle of the phone with white knuckles as you exhaled. 

You needed to get out of there.

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you ran down to the tube’s station, you could feel the adrenaline of excitement in your veins as you passed the various stops towards your flat.

“Hey,” You said, catching your breath as you entered, your roommate mumbled a vague hello from her desk as she hunched over her architecture assignment. 

“By the way the phone’s been ringing off it’s bloody base for a while now- I dont know what sort of call center you got going on in there,” she said, looking up from her sketchbook. 

You laughed as you took your coat and scarf off.

The phone rang again

“I’m serious if you’re running some sort of telephone scam I want a cut-”

“I’ll let you know if it pans out” you said with a laugh, crossing the distance between the door and your room. You closed the door quickly behind you, launching yourself to grab the phone

“I thought I was going to call you Potter, my roommate thinks I’m running a telephone scam”

“Who’s Potter?” He said. It wasn’t James, obviously, his voice starkly different. A spark missing in it. 

“Oh-”

“You sound like you were expecting someone else?” 

“N-no it's no one- why are you calling?”

“Why aren’t you here? I just got here” he said, almost in indignation. you glanced at the clock

“It’s been two bloody hours, I went home—” 

“Oh-”

“Yeah… oh”

“I’m sorry sweets, I had things to take care of… I’m sure you can understand that come on”

“And you just thought I’d wait?”

“I thought maybe you’d cut me some slack- you should come… I don’t know maybe I misread you”

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know… I just got back”

“How about I go over there then hm” he just wants to get in my pants… you could practically hear your own thoughts… your ears rang

“My roommate’s home-”

“And?” 

You sighed, you felt so stupid.  

“Come on- I'm sure she won’t mind”

“I can ask her…”

“Wicked, I’m on my way yeah?” He hung up before you could refute.

You groaned into your hands, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You wondered if you ever did.

You didn’t think you wanted him anymore… you thought of James briefly.

You popped your head out your door

“Would you mind it if someone came over…”

“As long as it’s not that poor excuse of a man then sure I don’t mind-” She said looking over her shoulder casually. “It’s the rat, isn't it? god you never learn”

“He stood me up today Char- I don't know what to do anymore…” you screamed into your hand, you tried swallowing the knot in your throat “He just called asking where I was- I waited for him for over an hour… he basically invited himself over”

“Is that who’s been blowing up your phone the past week?”

“No… that's…” you looked away, “no one,” you needed to call James back

“Why so cagey” she wiggled her eyebrows, “Is it another suitor? Do I know him? Have you guys gone out yet? Why is he calling you every day?”

“Jesus slow down Charlotte- god…” you sighed, leaning against the door frame “It’s just a friend”

She narrowed her eyes, staring at your face

“Good god- you like this friend”

“Charlotte no! I just met him,”

“And?”

“We haven’t even met… properly” 

“But you’ve spent hours on the phone the past couple of days it's him right? you’re paying the difference in the phone bill by the way” she said, you rolled your eyes with a nod

“Maybe- but it doesn’t mean anything okay? It can’t, we are just… becoming friends”

As Charlotte smirked, ready to tease you further there was a knock at the door— she groaned

“I can’t believe you’re letting that disgusting pile of shit in here- Again”

You agreed with her. You did. You couldn’t believe the situation, not how you bent over so easily nor his audacity. You didn’t say anything, you couldn't bear to meet her eyes as you went to answer with a huff.

“Hey, sweets-” You barely opened the door before he pushed his way through. “Ah- Lottie how are you?”

“Detrimental now that you’re here, how about you go terrorize some bar instead of terrorizing my home and my roommate hm?” She bit

He just smirked

“We both know you’re the only one day drinking here- besides I don't hear y/n complaining.”

You knew Charlotte expected you to refute. You stared out the window, you could feel his hand wrap around yours and your roommate sigh. 

You were slowly dragged to your room.

You could hear the TV turn on soon after your door closed. Charlotte turned the volume up to the max again. But you knew this time, there was no humor behind it.

Joshua was not a peculiar man. He was quite bland, a common brand of man you avoided your whole life, too cocky and full of himself, too sure that you along with everyone else wanted him, too much money and not enough responsibilities. He was despicable for all intents and purposes. Never committed, never made good on his word, and never answered the phone unless it served him. But somehow… you found yourself in his web, like a mouse trapped in a glue trap. 

You thought of James again, briefly, fleeting, as Josh pressed his lips against yours. You wondered if James was waiting for your call if he even cared if you called back… 

The phone rang. Loudly, annoyingly. A saving grace. 

You rushed to answer it, James’s voice coming through the other end

“Did you forget to call back or what?” You sighed in relief, a smile instinctively spreading across your lips. 

“Hey-” you sat on your bed, “something like that…” you turned to Josh, as he stared at you dumbly. This is going to be a while- you mouthed. 

He left with a huff. 

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

[brokenpinballmachine]

✶ moon rising at 12 o'clock

yan batfam x gn neglected reader

masterlist ch1 ch2(coming....)

a/n: hiii so like,, obviously I havent been on tumblr for like YEARS so excuse if anything looks bad. 2nd thing to get off: I am in now way like PRO EXPERT level, or whatever and this is mostly just for fun so expect like,,, shitty writing/characterization maybe, wonky time schedules etc. This is like my first post in like, what, 5 years?? maybe more?? Im quite new to the fandom so sorry for like any inconsistencies LMAO

TW: mentions of death, GN reader, slightly a crack fic (pov: my excuse to everything i write), neglect (OBV), english is NOT my first language... sorry yall... im not as american as you think..... sentence structure might be a little funky

word count: 3,662 words

summary: basically every batfam x neglected reader plot ever /w like multiverses or whatever,, inspired by a lot of authors + into the spiderverse

chapter 0: finding yourself

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

How many years has it been since you've last seen your mother?

You remember showing up at the door of the Gothic-styled manor, so excited, out of your mind, livid that you were the child of Bruce Wayne. What would you do? What would you say? Would you finally have the regular life that you've always dreamed of? To say you were ecstatic would be an understatement.

The butler next to you, who you soon found out was named Alfred Pennyworth, could only chuckle at your antics, holding your suitcases filled with clothes from your old house.

You were the child of Bruce Wayne and a prostitute who you knew as your mom. She wasn't home often, but that never wiped the smile off your face.

That stupid smile on your face.

Whenever something went wrong, you somehow managed to keep positive, to keep being optimistic. It was one of the traits that your friends always remembered, despite your upbringing.

When your mom did return home, though, she would place a few items of food on the table and leave once again. You never knew where she would run off to.

A vivid memory of your childhood is your mom coming home with another man, both of them turning in your direction when you decided to make yourself known.

It was strange. Why were they holding each other like that? Questions popped up in your mind, but they were shooed away with the flick of your mother's hand, telling you to go to bed. So you did.

You convinced yourself that night that maybe your mother was trying to make a change; perhaps she was finding you a dad? Yeah! That's it! She was just finding you a new dad so the three of you could finally live a normal, happy life. The stories of your classmates also filled your mind, and how their fathers would take them to the zoo, play baseball with them, and even allow them to put makeup on him. You wanted that. You just wanted a father.

When you woke up, you couldn't find either of them anywhere. Maybe they were planning a party for you?

Then a week passed by. Then another. And before you knew it, you had run low on the food supply your mother would always bring you, not knowing it was going to be your last.

You expected your mother to show up in the nick of time to save you from starvation, but it never happened. She never showed up.

Maybe… they were playing hide and seek?

You stopped showing up to school a week before your food supply finally ran out. You had portioned every last bit of food for each day, not allowing yourself to eat even an extra breadcrumb. Even if you never felt full, it was enough to keep you alive, even if you felt numb and more tired than usual.

Occasionally you would fall asleep on the couch, and you wouldn't even realize how long you had slept until you checked the time again.

That was until the day after your supply of food ran out; someone knocked on the door.

Opening it, you peeked your eyes out until they fell upon a tall police officer who seemed shocked at the sight of a small, malnourished child looking up at him, with heavy eye bags despite the constant rest you were getting. He asked you where your parents were. You shrugged.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the police station as they questioned you endlessly about your parents and their whereabouts.

Your teacher had gotten worried about you not showing up to school or about your parents not answering any of their calls, so as a last resort, she called the police to make sure you weren't dead or anything.

Well, you might not have been dead, but you looked like you were about to pass out at any second.

Of course, when they found you in a dirty, broken-down home that almost looked abandoned, they started searching for your biological father immediately to see if he could house you. At the same time, they were also searching for your mother, but she seemed to either be missing or dead.

And you could still remember your own shocked face when they told you that the Bruce Wayne, multimillionaire, was your damn father. Even if your mom was missing, perhaps you could still have that life you always dreamed of with your dad?

As both Alfred and you went inside the manor, you followed him around like a little duckling as he gave you a tour of every room, and your wide-eyed face was plastered with a big smile as you ran around each room and explored every detail with your eyes.

It was bigger, better, and fancier than you could have ever imagined.

"Master Y/n, would you like to visit your father?" A voice snaps you out of your haze. You see Alfred standing near a door.

With a nod, your little legs run up to him, and the sound of pitter-patter comes from your shoes hitting the recently swept floors, echoing throughout the mansion.

"Master Wayne, your child has arrived."

Bruce didn't bother looking at you. His eyes remained on the many stacks of papers that cluttered his desk. A small cough from Alfred's mouth as he speaks up once more, repeating his sentence. This time, with a tired sigh, Bruce Wayne opens his mouth, each word coming out snappy and tired.

"Not now, Alfred; I'm busy."

And that was it. Those were the only words you heard him speak, and it wouldn't be until a few months later that you would hear him speak again—not towards you, of course, but that never swept off the smile on your face.

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

Richard "Dick" Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake.

The names of your three other siblings.

When you had first met Dick, you stared at him in awe. Your cheerful attitude clashed well with his own, and he would ruffle your hair whenever he talked to you. Well, at least for the first week you were in the manor.

Afterward, he would always give you an excuse, as if the free trial of him being a brother to you had ended. As if he was being held at gunpoint to be the "nice" brother.

"Sorry, Y/n! I'm going out tonight, but I think Tim isn't busy!"

"Sorry, Y/n, I'm feeling a little too tired today!"

Sorry for this, sorry for that. Excuses seemed to be the only thing that ever came out of his mouth nowadays. Whenever he saw you, he would rush out of the house as soon as you came in—like he didn't want to hurt your feelings with the expected answer he would always give you.

The warm light of the manor seemed to make you chillier every time he rejected you, but it was fine. You still had two other brothers, right?

Who were you kidding?

Jason seemed to always ignore you, no matter the situation. The times he did acknowledge you were to give you short answers—a simple "yes" or "no." It wasn't like you saw him a lot, anyway.

For Tim, it seemed to be the same thing, but he did actually live in the house. He pushed you away every second he got, not bothering to even make up an excuse.

It's fine. You had Alfred, you had his cooking, and you had the manor. You had a roof over your head, so you still smiled even if it was foolish of you to do so.

You were extremely grateful for Alfred, of course, being the only one who bothered to check in on you. In your spare time, he would even let you help him cook! Maybe it was something as simple as icing a few cookies or rolling some cookie dough, but you still appreciated his effort to make you feel acknowledged.

Then came Damian.

Oh dear, not Damian.

You were immediately intimidated by him from the moment he entered the house. Maybe it was the threat that came out of his mouth when he first laid his eyes on you, or the small cut he left on your collarbone—spoiler alert: it was both—you decided not to even try to socialize with him. It wasn't worth the risk.

So why was he more beloved in the house than you?

Was it because you decided not to become a vigilante?

Why did Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim all seem more fond of him than they ever had been of you, even though you had "known them" for longer? You were jealous, to say the least, but you didn't make your voice heard. It would just cause a mess, and you knew they were often busy, so you brushed it off as you usually would.

You held a small hope that they would eventually notice you, and that was enough for you to keep a childish smile on your face. The innocent smile remained, despite being aware of everything that was happening around you. Your twelfth birthday was just around the corner, and you planned to celebrate it as you usually did: alone with Alfred.

Of course, that didn't mean you wouldn't hand out little invitations. You slipped them underneath each of your brothers' doors, pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into every detail of the handwritten notes before moving on to the next sibling. They never came to your birthdays, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

"Master Y/n, where would you like me to hang the balloons?" Alfred's voice rang in your ears. When you looked in the direction of his voice, you noticed your favorite colored balloon in both of his hands, making the smile on your face grow wider. This might be the best birthday you had decorated, like, ever!

"You can hang them up in the corners of the room!" you giggled. "Or maybe we could scatter them on the ground!"

"I'm afraid that might be a safety hazard, Master Y/n," he replied.

You could only shrug. "Hey, it's not as bad as you think!" You gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm sure no one would slip on them!"

Right, quite literally 'no one,' because you knew none of your family members were actually going to show up. Both of you continued to set up as Alfred checked on the birthday cake, the scent of which wafted toward you.

Aw, he shouldn’t have! You could recognize the aroma of your favorite flavor anywhere, and the sight of it made the corners of your mouth drool too. You inconspicuously wiped it from the edges of your mouth, blushing a bit and hoping Alfred hadn’t noticed.

He lit the candle on the cake, and you both sang together.

Despite Bruce never being there for you, you could always count on Alfred. The cool wind blew against the faces of the rest of the family; each one wore a frown as they made their way toward Wayne Manor.

The moonlight illuminated the pathway ahead and shone against their suits, almost mockingly, as if highlighting the mistakes they had made that night.

You know when people say, “Well, it can’t get any worse, right?”

Unfortunately for them, everything went terribly wrong.

They even forgot it was your birthday, Alfred noticing the glitter you used from one of your cards shining in the trash can when he went to throw something away. He didn't have the confidence to tell you; he didn't want to ruin your special night.

So when they suddenly appeared in the dining room, yelling and arguing about whose fault it was, they stopped at the sight of the decorations scattered throughout the room.

Who would be celebrating at such a time? Was this a prank? Bruce had the birthdays of all his kids (minus you) memorized, so what were these balloons and party streamers for?

Then they saw you. They saw the cake next to you; they saw the smoke coming out of the candles, they saw the multiple plates placed on the table and how only two plates actually had silverware next to them, and they saw the childish smile on your face.

You couldn't believe it; your wishes came true! They actually came.

They couldn't believe it. Awkwardness filled the room, and they each fell silent. They hadn't meant to intrude.

Of course, it wasn't your fault that the night went wrong, but Damian couldn't handle it. Your birthday—why did it have to be today of all nights? It was as if you were mocking him for the failure that occurred in battle.

He scoffs, storming out of the kitchen and stomping on one of the balloons while exiting, effectively popping it on his way out.

The sound made you flinch, and it finally brought you out of your daze. You look at Alfred, and he looks back at you, giving you a reassuring nod. You had one chance, and you weren't going to mess this up.

"Oh—sorry! I can get a few more forks if you want some cake; Alfred worked really hard on—"

You were interrupted by Bruce, who raised a hand when you were about to scramble into the kitchen to get more forks.

"No need," he says, "I'll go check on Damian."

He leaves the room, and Jason quietly follows him, leaving you alone with Tim, Dick, and Alfred.

Dick gives you a guilty smile. "Sorry, Y/n, I need to go recharge my battery!" And with that, he leaves.

Tim said something similar to Dick, and soon enough, you were alone again with Alfred. You didn't understand why they seemed to avoid you like the plague, why they ignored you at every opportunity.

The cake tasted more bitter than usual when you took a bite, and for once, the smile faded from your face.

And somewhere out in the multiverse, tonight was the night that made you "snap."

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

Turning 18 was more uneventful than you would think it would be. You finally graduated high school, had a job at a local mart, and your family was still ignoring you. Yet your smile was still there; it was strained at times, but it still lay on your face unmoving, unchanging.

Alfred didn't know how you do it. If he were in your position, that smile would have been gone by the time he was age 10.

You hadn't thought much of moving out, but it was wavering in your head. You would mention it to the butler sometimes when the two of you conversed, much to his dismay.

You were also planning on going to college next year, maybe after you saved up a bit. You hadn't applied for a scholarship yet.

You should probably do that soon.

Your room was still your room despite everything. The colors of the walls seemed to be fading out, and the posters attached to them seemed to be in need of new tape.

What the hell do you do now that you have all the time in the world in your hands?

Well, you decided it would be eating.

You were hungry. That was literally the only reason you went downstairs, but instead, you instinctively started eavesdropping on the conversation between your family.

"—one of them had powers!" You heard a voice that sounded familiar to Dicks.

"What would they—doing here?" You weren't sure, but the tone of this one sounded familiar to Jason.

"Im not sure—careful, they—look out,"

A new voice seemed to join in. "Not—database, I think—the three of them—our side?"

"It doesn't matter—destroy them—" You were sure that voice was Damians.

"Dont trust—need to be careful." This voice sounded older than all of them; it had to be Bruce's. "Who were they? —only appeared today."

Damn, look at you! You were such a great detective. You were able to figure out each person based on the voices. At least you got your detectiveness (you're not sure if this is a word, but you don't care either way) from your dad.

Oh well, they could worry about that themselves. You needed to worry about what to do next.

You make your way through the manor, but an unease seems to be creeping up and into you. Maybe you were just hungry again? Something just felt...off.

You scratched it off as just being worried about deciding what you would be in the future, but the unease never seemed to leave.

When you approached your room, you realized what was wrong. 3 new figures were located in your room. One was sitting on the window, one was standing next to the window, and one seemed to be crouching near the floor.

Each one of them looked familiar, like you.

And you screamed—or were about to until a hand rudely interrupted you and slammed against your mouth.

"Don't fucking try it." The person standing next to the window was gone and instead appeared behind you with their hand over your mouth.

"Vg/n! Don't be rude!" The one sitting on the window cries out expressively as their fancy, almost magical-like, white clothing with f/c accents seemed to bounce. They had a ginormous bow on their chest that seemed quite inefficient to wear.

The person behind you, whom you assumed was Vg/n, only sighed. "We can't let them alert the others," The person sitting on the floor cackles, "As if the family would actually come up to check on them, you think they fuckin' care?"

"No, but Alfred might," Vg/n retorts.

You were confused as hell, but your questions were soon answered when the Vg/n spoke up. "Look, it may not seem like it, but we're all you. Or rather, alternate versions of you."

They remove the hand from your mouth, and you voice out your confusion. "What?"

"Im the version of you where you become a vigilante,"

"Im the one where you become awesome and cute!—" The one sitting on the floor is cut off by the one sitting on the window who is suddenly next to you. "Ignore them, they're V/n, it's you when you become a villain," They have a hand on the side of their mouth as they whisper to you, giggling as V/n throws out a little 'hey!' from the rude interruption.

"Im M/n! I'm the version of you where you become... magical!" M/n strikes a pose with a wand they have in their hand.

It's a lot for you to take in, and you stand there, quiet.

"Ya think we broke 'em?" V/n interrupts you from your train of thought.

You shake your head as they speak. "No, no, sorry, I just... how—why are you here?"

"Well, that's what we're trying to figure out too!" M/n tries to smile reassuringly at you. "We were just doing our business in our universes, and BOOM! we're suddenly together in an alleyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Vg/n staring at V/n with an analytical look, and you had to hold in your laughter.

It must've been like whiplash to them when they found their opposite counterpart.

"Wait—so if you're all alternate versions of me, then... what version am I?"

"Well, you're like the past!" M/n's bow bounces freely on their chest. "Or you can also be the 'true' Y/n if you'd like, but that's debated,"

"Past...? How old are you guys??"

"It depends on who you're asking, but we're all around the age of 23-24!"

You stare at them in shock. Were you going to grow up into one of them? Vg/n... they looked cold, hard, almost like a mini-Bruce. They seemed to always have a frown on your face, opposed to you, who always had a smile. Scars were littered all over their body, both on the inside and outside, and you could tell with a single glance they had been through a lot.

V/n. They seemed to look much better than Vg/n, but at the same time, they seemed more cruel. As if their sense of justice was blurred between the fence of good and evil, as if they had lost themselves.

M/n was different as a whole from the other two. They appeared more 'innocent,' more 'playful,' but the smile on their face seemed to be more forced at the same time.

"So, you guys are trying to get home?"

"That's the gist of it," V/n commented.

"Well, we could ask—"

Suddenly, the three of them spoke up, yelling at you with a big fat no. Jeez, their bat families couldn't have been as bad as yours, right?

Vg/n only sighed at your puzzled face, answering the question that lingered in your mind without you having to speak up. "Basically, our lives were changed on our twelfth birthday. I decided to become a vigilante; V/n wanted revenge, and M/n found a ring that made them, well… magical. Our lives were basically the same up to that point, maybe aside from a few personality differences."

So they were just as bad. Even alternate versions of you couldn't catch a break.

"Well, we should at least discuss this somewhere else; I'm getting sick of this manor," V/n scoffed.

Vg/n didn't say anything, but you could tell they agreed with V/n too, even if they didn't want to side with a villain.

"Off we go!!!" With their wand pointed high, M/n ran out of the room with a cheer, alerting both V/n and Vg/n to chase after your other alternate self, with you following in pursuit. You couldn't even make it to the exit of the manor until you ran into your family.

Your whole big-ass family.

Not even one member—your WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY—OH MY GOD. At the WORST time ever too.

"It's you!" Tim exclaimed.

"It's me!" M/n exclaimed with glee. Vg/n and V/n got into their positions, and so did the rest of the Batfamily.

You knew this was going to turn into a mess.

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

a/n 2: hii ok so for vg/n and v/n you can think of whatever outfit you want, but for m/n, im thinking of like, a madoka type outfit if your going for feminine, or a suit /w a cape (and the inside is the f/c accent) if ur going for masculine!! both masc and fem outfits have a bow on the chest area!

here are the theme songs!!

(M/n = Magical name, V/n = Villain name, Vg/n = Vigilante Name)

M/n: Magnetic - Illit, and fight theme would be Right Now - Newjeans (instrumental)

V/n: Demons - Doja Cat, and fight theme would be Yummy - Ayesha Erotica

Vg/n: Homesick - Wave to Earth

[rorysburrow]

Home Sweet Burrow

Pairing ➼ Joe Burrow x Reader

Summary ➼ Joe and you are on a mission to furnish your brand-new house, but what starts as a casual shopping trip turns into a full-blown adventure. Between Joe’s quirky opinions on throw pillows and your obsession with picking out the perfect coffee table, you both learn a lot about each other—and yourselves. The house may be new, but it's starting to feel like home.

Word Count ➼ 485

Warnings ➼ Just Fluff

A/N ➼ Hey guys this is my first post/one shot if you want to call it but I'm new and just getting started if you have any tips or suggestions please feel free to share. I also take requests.

The sun was setting over Cincinnati, casting a golden glow over the city as you and Joe strolled into the sleek, modern furniture store. Your new house—a beautiful, airy place with high ceilings and expansive windows—was nearly finished, but there was one problem: it was still completely empty. Except for a couch. Joe insisted on getting a big sectional sofa first, because, as he put it, “It’s gotta be comfortable for game days, right?”

“Alright,” You said, glancing at him as we walked through the sliding doors. “We’re on a mission. We need to make this place feel like a home, not a hotel lobby.”

Joe flashed a grin. “A hotel lobby would have a good minibar, though.”

“Focus, Joe,” you say laughing. “This is a house, not a suite.”

“I know, I know,” he teased, rubbing his chin. “But we should get a minibar. Just sayin’.”

Joe and you moved through the store, you found myself getting distracted by all the little details—vases, lamps, wall art. Meanwhile, Joe was making very serious decisions about the most random things. “What about this lamp?” he asked, holding up a funky, geometric piece that looked more like modern art than an actual light source.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? That looks like something you’d find in a sci-fi movie.”

He chuckled. “Exactly. It’s perfect.”

After much back-and-forth on the lamp situation (which ultimately ended in you picking something a little more traditional), then you and Joe ventured to the kitchen section. Joe’s face lit up as you looked at the wine glasses.

“We need a good set of these,” he said. “For...you know...celebrating stuff.”

“You mean, for after you win the next Super Bowl?” you teased.

“Exactly,” Joe grinned, pulling out a set of crystal glasses. “We’ll toast to that moment when it happens.”

Joe paused for a second, imagining it: Joe hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy above his head, Cincinnati going wild. It was a beautiful thought.

The shopping trip was a mix of seriousness and silliness—Joe testing out every recliner in the store, making you laugh by acting like he was auditioning for a role in a commercial. And you obsessing over the smallest things, like picking out the perfect throw pillows for the couch. It wasn’t just about the house; it was about making memories, finding y'alls rhythm in this new chapter.

By the time you were ready to check out, the cart was filled with everything you both needed—and some things you probably didn’t. You give Joe a pointed look as he placed a neon green throw blanket on top of the pile.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked skeptically.

Joe shrugged, that confident, carefree smile of his lighting up his face. “Look, every home needs a little bit of chaos.”

You have to admit, he was right. A little chaos made everything feel real, and that’s exactly what you both were building together. A real home.

[lostinlovingrevery]

He's Definitely Obsessed With You (Series)

Origins! Logan X Fem!Reader

Plot: You're an army nurse, deep in the trenches of the Vietnam jungles, doing everything you can to keep yourself together, and the infantry that come into your tent. One day a soldier you aren't familiar with is brought in, and you find out something about him that leads to the start of an important relationship between you both that changes the course of your lives together...

A/N: This is basically the plot of Origins, but with my own spin on it with a Fem!Reader! This is my first time EVER writing an X reader, so comments appreciate! I plan to make this a series, but I wanted to put out a prologue first. Okay, it's not really a prologue and more like a chapter, and ended up being super long because I started writing and then didn't stop, and prologues are short- but IT'S MY STORY AND I'LL CREATE MY OWN RULES. The prologue is just how reader and Logan meet! (PS, there's eventual smut...Soon as I figure out how write it without getting embarrassed) Also, I'm still figuring out how to format on Tumblr, so please don't mind any funky design choices. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes somewhere in there

Warnings: Reader POV only (for now) Reader is female, also an army nurse, also a mutant- but powers aren't specified, blood mention, medical stuff talked about (like amputations), injury descriptions, Vietnam war and slight politics mention, probably a lot of historical inaccuracies i just googled things but I tried! implied reader could be religious but honestly there's nothing concrete to that. The only description of reader is her clothes and that she has hair, and wears makeup (lipstick). Reader has a hard on over Logan (she has a cruuuush), let me know if there's anything I missed!

Word Count: 4753

Series Masterlist

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Prologue:

Rain rapped lightly along the top of the large tent, creating a soothing sound throughout. A radio, playing an american music station, played a rock song, of some new band slowly making a name for itself, sat nearby on a metal cabinet. Stacks of manila folders and papers were disorganized and spread, almost completely covering a desk. A clock ticks rhythmically. The tent was lined with cots, tables, ratty mattresses, IV stands, and small tables covered with empty food trays, water canisters, and paper cups filled pills. Some of the beds were taken up by injured men, snoring and groaning as they attempted to sleep, only slightly more comfortable here in the medical tent than out in the muddy, rainy trenches. It was monsoon season in Vietnam, and you were at your wits end with paperwork in the middle of a small but-not-that-small camp, set up not far from an American fire support base.

You were sitting at the desk, half asleep as you attempted to fill out another request form for medical supplies. Halothane, Methoxyflurane, Morphine, Penicillin - are common medicines that you find yourself constantly having to restock. Of course bandages, gloves, needles, saline, tubing, multiple surgical supplies, other things you find yourself low on often too, considering the amount of amputations, large and minor, that happen around here. The medical tent that you currently reside in was a revolving door of soldiers, both American and Vietnamese, as well as nearby villagers who come for aid after the American presence near their homes led to viruses they can’t combat on their own, or other unfortunate injuries if war breaks out in their village. 

You were simply an army nurse, this was not your usual duty to perform, it was normally left to the assigned doctor of the camp. Your job was to assist the doctor, take care of the patients, administer medicine, IVs, change bandages, wet baths, feed them, and hold their hands as they cry for their momma and to God. You were busy enough, and the doctor, Doctor Frank Jones, who you were assisting had got shot by a stray bullet when out in the jungle, and had to be taken back to the main base, and back to the States. Due to a communication failure, his replacement ended up somewhere else, and transportation wasn’t an option due to the fighting happening.

 Fortunately, Doctor Jones had seen potential in you and believed you would be an excellent doctor one day - something you wanted to pursue after your service was fulfilled. He became a mentor, helping you study and learn medicine, and giving you skills that an average nurse- even an army nurse- wouldn’t usually have. Now, it was just up to you, and a few young army medics - teenage boys who were given no choice in going to war, and their skills were found best in assisting injuries on the battlefield, but they were eager to help, and their light-hearted jokes and company helped relieve some stress for you, especially with the pain you watch day in and out. You didn’t always have the luxury of their help though, as when patrols went out, they required at least one of them to join. It leads you to have to order around other grunts who have no idea how to even measure the proper dosage of cough syrup for themselves whenever a serious injury comes in, having to give detailed orders on what to do- usually just getting you the supplies and medicine you need, as the grunts are typically too distracted and upset over their fallen brother to assist you in anything medical and complicated. 

With being the only medical authority in the camp- as well as the only woman- you were well respected and popular. Your compassionate personality, and comforting presence, as well as your “Take-no-shit” attitude, led to soldiers of this camp visiting you all the time, usually making up excuses like having a cough, or a splinter in their finger, just so they could have the pleasure of your smile and encouraging words. The CO here made sure that they all treated you with respect, as a woman- and a nurse, so you never once felt unsafe- or unappreciated. Besides, a good section of this camp is young boys, too nervous about their situation to worry about trying to flirt with a woman like you. You're more of a comfort figure in these parts than anything else. Despite the stress and worry you face in day to day life, in the middle of the war, you were just happy to be doing something. You weren’t exactly a supporter of this war, but the moment you saw young boys lining up to go to war, something in you made you fiercely determined to follow, and do whatever you can to make sure those boys can go back home to their mothers and fathers.

The Rolling Stones was now playing on the radio, this was a band you were more familiar with - one of your favorites. Your foot tapped to the beat of the song, as you checked off another item you needed to be stocked up on- and hoped the supply chain doesn’t hold out on you again. For some reason, they seemed convinced that you must surely be lying about the supplies and will not send you the full amount of what you requested, leading you to storm into the CO’s tent on more than one occasion and rant to him with a few unsavory words about the supply lines commander.  He always listens though, and does his best to get you what you can- which you can appreciate. 

“Hey turn that up-” You heard one of the patients call out, and she smiles, reaching to the radio and turning the volume higher. She looked up from the desk to see one patient in bed moving his foot with the beat of the song, and the other, who asked her to turn it up, raised his arm in the air, hand in a fist as he rocked with the song. “This is a good one, hadn’t heard this one yet.”

“It came out in 65’ dumbass.” the other called out. “How’d you not know it?”

“I’ve been here since 64’ asshole! Think we always had access to a radio?”

They all chided each other, making you laugh as you shake your head, turning back towards your paperwork, determined to finish it today so you can send it out. It was rare you get these moments of quiet, so you appreciated it when you could. Things could turn on a dime in a second, especially since the fighting was getting closer to where this camp was set, and you’re hoping that you would get some help before anything serious came. You were just starting to get absorbed in the letter you were writing to the CO of the supply line, something slightly passive aggressive, when one of the soldiers yelled to you from outside. 

“Hey! Nurse! There’s some guys coming this way! They got someone injured-” 

You looked up, dropping your pencil, and turning the radio down as you readied yourself, brushing the pants of your army fatigues to straighten it out, and rolling your sleeves farther up your arms. You watched as the flaps of the tent get pulled open, as two men carry someone resting on a cot. You didn’t like how quiet the man was being.

“In here-” You lead them to another section of the medical tent, ment solely for treating wounded, in an attempt to keep something sterile and clean- well, as clean as you can get it. The soldiers set the man onto the table that sat in the center of the room, small trays and medical supplies, as well as a large overhead lamp that provided lighting to give you a better view at what you’re working on, surrounded the table. 

“We got ambushed on patrol, fortunately he’s the only one that got hit, a VC jumped out of the grass and stabbed him. We got pressure on the wound, and he’s still alive- for now.” 

You nodded as you went to a basin to pull on some sterile gloves, and walked over to examine the soldier. He was handsome- you couldn’t help but noticed but quickly put that out of your mind. A full head of deep beautiful brown hair, and a thick beard framed his face. He looked older, possibly in his mid 30’s. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, as his teeth were gritted and eyes cinched shut in pain. A wave of sorrow hit you, as you never liked seeing people in pain, it hits you bad enough to wonder why you chose to go into the medical profession of all things. Nevertheless, you push through, and began working on removing the uniform so you can see if you can save this one. At least he wasn’t screaming.

“Whats his name?”

“Logan ma’am. He’s Private First Class.”  The private responds, voice professional, but quickly drops into something softer. “He’s a good guy, and smart, usually quick on his feet, its surprising someone ambushed him…” 

“Need any help ma’am?” The other private who brought him in ask.

“No, I got it, thank you.” You tell them as you grab some sheers and began cutting through Logan's army garments. “Just make sure others are alright. See if any of the boys out there need water.”

They nodded, saluting- leading you to roll your eyes- and left your section of the tent, just as you manage to cut off the white wife beater he was sporting underneath his army garments, giving you a complete view of where he had been stabbed. You breathed a small sigh of relief, the wound appeared in the part of the torso where nothing vital was located and you managed to roll him to his side- seeing the stabbing didn’t go straight through, meaning this guy had a good chance of surviving, assuming he doesn’t succumb to infection…

“Alright Logan,” You turned you head to look at the man, who was still tense, eyes squeezed shut. He was somewhat awake, with his breathing and the way his muscles contracted, but he didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on, you still felt it important to talk to whoever you were treating though. You had to hold the hands of many scared soldiers, and quickly have learned the right things to say when comforting. “I’m going to take care of you, and in return, you’re going to need to be strong for me here.” You say softly but firmly to him, hoping that he’s hearing you through the pain, as you went and quickly grabbed a wet cloth out of a basin nearby, squeezing out the excess water, and gently placing it over his forehead, in order to soak up some sweat, and provide some more comfort to cool his skin that seemed to be burning hot. You couldn’t help but note that you don’t recognize him- you wouldn’t have forgotten his face that’s for damn sure, if he’d ever came to visit you, which most privates in this camp has at one time or another. You shook the curiosity out of your head, you had to move quickly, fighting the urge to wanting to take in the details of his face- his very handsome face, and moved to focus back onto the wound on his torso. 

You started by slowly removing the packed bandages, examining the blood flow to make sure nothing gushed, but he really wasn’t bleeding much anymore- actually, it didn’t look like he was bleeding at all now. Confused, you began cleaning the area of the stab wound so you could get a clear view of what you were looking at. At first, you thought you were losing your mind, you had to been because what you were seeing…

It was as if the skin was growing back, the wound, going inwards seemed to almost pop out, before the skin stitched together, going through what the bodys usual healing process would look like- except doing it within a matter of seconds. Turning from a bright red inflamed wound, into a baby pink scar bump that slowly faded off, you couldn’t even tell anything had happen there- except from the blood stained around it. You were blinking in disbelief, mouth slightly agape, before it suddenly occurred to you what you were just seeing.

Oh

Oh shit-

He’s a mutant.

You looked at the man, who’s muscles seemed to be relaxing now, as he took deeper breaths, the sweat on his face began to dry and disappear. You weren’t sure what to do at this point, you’re so used to every minute counting to fix someone, and this guy just healed himself in seconds!

And by god, he was so handsome. You thought that already, got to stop thinking about that. Turning away from his face, you went to examine where the stab wound used to be, gloved fingers gently pressing on the area- before the soldier- Logan, practically yelped- and sat up rushed on the table, startling you even more so than him, as you jumped back, hands in the air in surrender- as if you did anything wrong.

He was panting, the cold wet cloth you had placed on his forehead fell into his lap, as he looked around with wide eyes, pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring, he almost looked animal-like in this state. He turned to look at you. His eyes took you in, and suddenly you felt embarrassed by your army clothes you were sporting, green cargo pants, and a green collared button up shirt, tucked into your pants, making you feel less than girlish in them, despite their comfortability, your forehead was covered in sweat, and your hair pulled back in a bun neat bun with baby hairs sticking out everywhere. At least you had lipstick on to give yourself a little bit of a pop in your plain looking outfit. That should be the last thing you should be worried about. 

“You’re okay-” You finally found your voice, holding your hands out to him, “You got ambushed, but you’re okay now.” 

He blinked, then let out a small sigh, his whole self seeming to relax, his expression turned more human-like, as he faced forward, then looked down at himself. His hand went over where he had been hurt- seeing that there was no longer any injury there, although something in his expression told you he could still feel it. He swallowed, jaw tensing, before realization struck him, and his head snapped to look at you. 

“You saw- You know, don’t you?” He asks, his voice was deep, but sounded a little dry and scratchy. Still, it was enough to make your knees weak. 

You turned, going to a cabinet that held medicines and various other supplies, but on the counter was a pitcher of water and a few glass cups. Pulling off your gloves, you poured a cup from the pitcher, turning back and handing it to him. 

“Yeah. I saw.” You say cooly, holding it out for him to take. He looked at you, his deep and should you think gorgeous hazel eyes felt like they were piercing your soul; as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head, which you wish you knew as well because his stare was making your brain fuzzy; then glanced at the cup and finally took it from your hand, your fingers brushing together, making your heartbeat just a little faster, and you could feel a small heat blooming in your cheeks.

Jesus christ, pull yourself together 

You thought to yourself. You cleared your throat while he took several swigs of water, dropping his hand with the cup to his side as he took a moment to breathe once more. 

“Got anything stronger?” He asks, his low and smoother now, quirking a brow at you. You smiled, 

“Sorry, anything alcoholic you may want to drink in here, I gotta save for the guys who can’t heal themselves within minutes.” You say teasingly. “Supplies are low enough already.” 

You could see a small quirk of his lips, in something resembling a smile. He was still tense though, his eyes seemed to be somewhere else. He looked at you again,

“Does it…scare you? Me being a mutant?” He asks, his voice low

“Um….No?” You responded, confusion on your face, a small shake of your head, “Why would it?” 

He seemed relieved- and surprised by that answer, his shoulders finally relaxing, and he took another drink of water, eyes closing as he finished the cup, and handed it back to you, where you set it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he sat up more confidently, bending his leg as he brought his knee up to his chest, and propped his forearm over it, and leaned back on his other hand, taking a few deep breaths as he lowered his head down, then looked back up at you, his expression suddenly stern.

“You gonna tell them?” He asks. You knew he was referring to the army. Mutants weren’t well accepted in the world- much less the US army. The American government is actually sitting comfortably in the capital and writing out bullshit laws on mutant regulations, rather than trying to figure out a solution for the war here in Vietnam. You, a mutant yourself, albeit your powers were easy to hide and conceal, you still feared of a day that someone somehow discovers your secret. You’ve heard stories of American soldiers revealed to be mutants being killed, due to some bullshit excuse that they “lied” about who they were, and couldn’t be trusted. Whether those stories were true or fearmongering to keep mutants hiding their true identities, you didn’t know, but you certainly weren’t gonna find out yourself. You definitely wouldn’t put another fellow mutant, just trying to survive like you, in any sort of danger like that, even if he could probably just heal if he got put in front of a firing squad.

You pursed your lips together. Then smiled. “No. I’ll keep your secret.” You say. “All it means to me is that I have one less person to worry about around here. I was actually wondering why I hadn’t seen your face in this tent yet before, and now I know why.” 

He softened at that, but his face quickly fell back into something more serious and stern once more, which you’re starting to think might be his baseline. 

“You okay?” You asked, your voice was soft, and sweet, and borderline angelic for a man like him, who’s been in wars almost his entire life- which you don’t know about that. “That probably didn’t feel good, what happened.” He nodded. 

“M’ fine….Thank you.” He grumbles lowly, looking down at his hands. “I heard about you- actually I-I seen you around. You’re the only nurse on camp?” He asked, looking back up at you, there seemed to be a bit of curiosity in his voice. 

“Yeah. I’m pretty popular.” You say, in a teasing voice, blushing at the thought that he’s noticed you. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, you are quite literally the only woman around, save for the women in the village not far from here.  

“Must be busy.”

“Oh… Nah-” You playfully wave him off. “Some days are so slow, I’m actually bored.” You say matter-of-factly, but you both knew you were kidding. Another quirk of his lips. You smiled softly at him, but there was a voice in your head telling you, that since he doesn’t need your help, you should probably get back to helping the ones who do. Not that you want to leave, he was so damn handsome, you could stare at him all day. It wasn’t just his good looks though, his whole self drew you in with just a few words, and you find yourself wanting to get to know Logan, because the look in his eyes told you that he was someone worth knowing. Or maybe that was just your hormones talking. There was just this energy between you both, some type of unseen connection. His eyes trailed down you again, this time fully taking you in, stopping at your chest, and for a moment you were about to be completely turned off by this man being a pervert, but he nodded towards it. 

“Your necklace?” He asked. You looked down, oh, you thought to yourself. You pulled the string of your necklace, lifting the small coin that it held, string carefully wrapped around it so it doesn’t fall off.

“It’s a prayer coin. A priest gave it to me.” You explained. “It’s the archangel Raphael. A protector, patron saint of medical workers, like doctors, nurses.”

“Like you?” 

You nodded. He examined it, before you tucked it back under your shirt. You usually keep it hidden, but it must have fallen out while you were rushing. Now it was silent again, and you both weren’t sure what to do or say. 

“Well….” You took a breath, you glanced down at his abdomen, and suddenly your brows creased in concentration. 

“What?” He asked, by your sudden change in demeanor. 

“You can’t exactly walk out with no injury. Those two privates were pretty worried about you.” You say, putting your hands on your hips and pursing your lips together. You clicked your tongue.

“I can figure something out-”

“No no-” You held your hand up and looking around the room. “Those privates brought you in, there’s probably an incident report written right now, not to mention I have to write a report on your injuries too-” you explained. “I mean, how are you gonna explain it if you walk out, completely A-okay?”

Logan shrugged simply. “I can think of something, it isn’t the first time this happened.” You rolled your eyes. Men. 

You rather not waste bandages on a pretend injury, but you need someway to get his injury to look believeable, thats when you spotted your answer. His white tank top that you had drop to the floor, it was good enough to wrap around him, making him look as if he’s been all fixed up from his stab wound. The shirts cotton texture looked similar to the pattern of a bandage, and was good enough, especially considering no one would be looking hard enough at his wound anyway.

After a few minutes of “fixing him up” with your solution to keep his regenerative abilities a secret, you stood back examining the fake bandage/shirt that you tore up and wrapped around his torso, using bandage pins to hold it in place. Then shrugged. 

“It’s good enough.” You say. “You’re not going anywhere anyway, so it’s not like you’ll raise a bunch of questions. It looks like you have an injury, it’ll match the incident and medical report. You won’t get found out.”

“I’m not going anywhere?” He raised a brow. 

“Nope. You were injured, which means I gotta keep an eye on you. So you’ll be sleeping here, and you’ll have to pretend you’re in pain, whining and moaning and all that. Give it your best performance.” You encourage. “Take it, not many around here get a chance to get a break like that.” 

He looked at you, pondering what you were offering him- well, you weren’t offering, he was going to have do it because you weren’t gonna risk him revealing himself as a mutant, which for some reason you were now more concerned about than he was. A small smirk appeared on his face, “That mean you’ll be waiting on me then, hand and foot?”

You smiled, “Don’t get ahead of yourself soldier.” You say teasingly. “You can stay in here a little longer, rest up, maybe shed some tears to make it look like you’re suffering tremendously.” You added a little flair as you brought your hand up to your forehead, pretending to faint, before turning and walking away to leave the room, now knowing you really needed to get back to work.

“I don’t think I need to shed any tears.” He mutters, but there was amusement in his tone though. “Hey bub” He called after you as you were about to leave the room, lifting the tent flap, but you stopped to look at him. “Why are you seen keen on helping me out? Making a plan to make sure people don’t find out what I am…Seems like too much trouble to go through for you.” He frowned. 

“Well…” You dropped the flap of the tent, “Us mutants gotta stick together, right?” Logan looked surprised at first, eyes widening a bit, and jaw slacking, but then a soft, genuine smile stretched across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaving you thinking that was a smile you never wanted to go without again. Smiling back at him, you winked, and turned back before stopping and looking at him again, “Plus, you seem worth the trouble.” You add, before finally leaving him to himself.

Maybe it was too much trouble. You could leave Logan to figure it out himself. You two didn’t know each other, you weren’t friends. Yet you, the compassionate self you are, and also slightly bull-headed, was not going to leave Logan hanging alone. Maybe it was the fact that you were both mutants that urged you to help him, let him know that someone like him out there has his back, even if he had many brothers at his side watching his back too. Or maybe it was because you felt an undeniable pull towards him- and him towards you. 

While he stayed in the medical tent with you for about a week, the standard time for stitches to stay in. While staying, you both got to know each other better. You found a deep friendship with Logan quickly, both of you having an understanding of each other, not just as mutants but as individuals as well. You were able to laugh, usually at his snarky remarks to the other privates and even his comments to the higher-ups, surprising you in how he likes to occasionally challenge authority despite how quiet and reflective he can be some moments. You saw him as brave, smart, and he was protective, always going first in patrols, and keeping an eye on the younger privates. He’d hid it well, rarely making it seen, but he had a compassion that made your heart swell, especially when you came across him comforting a young private who was homesick and scared. He had a good instinct that seems to attest to his mutation- which he later revealed the full aspects of it to you later on, claws and everything- which did nothing but fascinate you, leading to a full acceptance of him he hadn’t felt or seen in a long time. He’d visit you in late nights when he wasn’t assigned guard patrol, bringing you something to eat or drink, and you’d both quietly talk about your lives, and how’d you ended up there. He listened to you complain about the lack of supplies, and how you got into medicine in the first place. You’d learn of his brother Victor- another Private First Class there at the camp, who you quickly learned a distaste for after meeting him, and how old they both really were- leading you to bombard him with history questions, that he simply answered “I wasn’t there bub.” There was an unspoken yet mutual physical and spiritual attraction between you both, but before anything could have gone further in your relationship, down in the thick muddy jungles of Vietnam, you suffered a similar fate as your mentor Doctor Jones. A stray bullet having shot through your shoulder while you were out, attempting to help a young private who’s leg unfortunately got caught in a dirt trap. You were okay, but orders sent you home on a medical discharge, saying you fulfilled your duty to the States. 

You missed Logan, and you also found yourself struggling to find your place back in civilian life again, the stress and the trauma of the things you saw weighed heavy in your mind, not to mention the worry you felt over Logan's safety while he was still over there. The only thing easing your worries was the letters you wrote to each other, until one day his letters stopped coming, and your own got returned back to you with no explanation, leaving you in fear of the worst….

[ladykailitha]

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 6

Hey, guys! Welcome back. Last week did way better and I wanted to thank you all for that.

In this we meet Steve's team and Eddie is blown away.

Also this chapter is longer than I normally go. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Eddie sat in the makeup chair and waited for his two attendants. He was used to Vickie doing it all for him, so this was going to interesting.

Then his hair stylist walked in and honestly he was shocked. He imagined someone more like Steve. Straight laced with stick so far up their ass they could be used as a puppet.

What he got was a sassy twenty-something with bright red hair in complicated pleats and a funky style. She wore wide shorts that almost looked like a skirt with a rainbow long sleeved tee and a denim vest that the front pocket held a couple brushes and a comb in it.

And that was the other thing. Max was a she. He had assumed a man with the name like Max, but he thought it really fit her.

“I’m Max,” she greeted. It wasn’t rude per se, but it was tinted with something like snark and sarcasm. He liked her already.

“Eddie,” he said, sticking his hand out to her.

She glanced at it with a smirk and then licked her lips. “So I guess Steve was right about you, after all.” Max shook his hand. “How would you feel about putting your hair for the shoot? Not the whole thing, but getting more and more loose to help signifying your descent.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And then have it all the way down for the nude shots?” That could actually work.

“Yeah,” Max said cocking her head to the side. “You down?”

“Work your magic, Max,” Eddie said feeling a lot better about Vickie not being here. He settled against the back of the chair.

“Magic Max...” she said nodding thoughtfully. “I like it!”

She started conditioning his hair to prepare to take the heat from her tools. “Vickie was telling me and Rob that your hair is combination that your scalp puts out so much oil it dries your head but makes hair super greasy if you don’t keep up on it, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, flipping the ends of hair up. “And with the curls it makes for a nightmare if I don’t wash it, but if I wash it too often it’s actually worse, so...”

“So you have to have a carefully balanced routine,” Max confirmed. “Well, I’ve got you. You’re hair will be amazing and before you go home I’ll make sure to run some nice leave in conditioner to help keep it soft.”

She wove his hair into a half crown braid and let his bangs frame his face. She turned him around and showed him the with her mirror.

“So what do you think?”

He twisted and turned to see it from every angle and he had to admit that she had done a bang up job. Maybe even better than what Vickie would have done.

“Wow.”

In the mirror he could see her grinning at him from behind him. He smiled back. “Any chance I can steal you away from Stevie boy out there?”

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell, dude,” she said bluntly. “He’s the reason I’m here in the first place. He would have to be dead and even then it’s iffy.” She waved her hand back and forth.

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, okay. What’s next?”

“Next is Ellie,” Max said with a grin. “Steve wanted to tweak the outfit a little bit so they’ll be in to discuss it with you, then you get to meet Robin who will do your makeup.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side with a half shrug. “I’m game. Though these clothes are amazing.” And they were. They really, really were. He was in a white tank top with a white long-sleeved button up over top. Then the white leather belt went with the broad-legged white jeans. Then to top the whole outfit off he was wearing white loafers without the socks.

“Ellie didn’t like the white button up once she had seen you and was trying to convince Steve to let her try something else.”

“And how hard was that?” Eddie asked leaning forward, actually interested in how Steve treated his team.

“Ellie?” Max said with a laugh at his eagerness to find fault in Steve. “She batted her eyelashes and said please. But make no mistake, it’s because he trusts her to know his vision for the clothes and she trust him to tell her to walk away when she gets too far in her head about it needing to be perfect.”

Eddie lifted the shirt and glanced at it in confusion. “So what’s not perfection about this shirt?”

“It hides your shoulders,” Ellie said from the doorway. “It was open, stop staring at me like a dead fish. It’s gross.”

Eddie closed his mouth with a snap of his jaw. Ellie wasn’t like anything he expected and he was starting to see a pattern. He was judging Steve based on all his other experiences with other photographers, but he was learning fast that Steve didn’t fit into those boxes.

She had soft curly, brown hair. A lot like his own, but the curls weren’t as tight as his. Her eyes were a warmer brown then his own, but they were currently sharp, glaring at him as if daring to say that she was invading his space when the door was open for all and sundry to go in and out of.

“Just surprised me is all,” he assured her. “So you think you have a better option in that magic wardrobe of yours?”

She turned back to Steve and nodded curtly. “I like him.”

Eddie turned a bright red that couldn’t even be hidden by the makeup because they hadn’t applied it yet. There was something about the way she said that made Eddie believe that it was rare thing for her bestow her favor on someone. And the fact that she had picked him was an honor.

While he was ducking his head and desperately wishing he could shove his hair in front of his face to hide the blush that heated his face, Ellie was going through the clothes looking for something better than the shirt he was wearing.

“What is Ellie short for?” he asked trying to draw the attention elsewhere. “I mean if it’s short for anything. Had friend named Jenny before. Not Jennifer, just Jenny.” Good job, Munson, he cursed himself. Way to make it more awkward, not less.

She looked over her shoulder at him with a soft, serene smile. “My first name is actually Jane. But my middle name is Eliwen and while I appreciate that my mom was being sensible in giving me a plain first name and a unique middle, I really took to the middle name. But because most people can’t seem to get it right, I go by Ellie.”

“Well, Lady Eliwen,” he said bright, “let’s divest me of these ill fitting rags and let me don something more to the lady’s taste!”

Steve burst out laughing. “I told you you didn’t need me help. You’ll do just fine.” He turned to Max. “You ready for Rob to come in and do the makeup?”

Max nodded. “We’re all good until the next costume and makeup change.”

“It’s a good thing I did reserve the studio for two days,” Steve said with smirk. “With all the changes we’re doing for the progression the client wants, it’s going to take a couple days just to get to the nude scenes. I’m going to talk to Kimmy and see if we can extend the shoot another day.” He turned to Eddie. “I’ll see you when you’re ready for the first shots.”

“Sure,” Eddie said absently. His attention was already on the shirt Ellie was holding up.

It was a white button up, same as what he was wearing, but it was a much lighter material and neater construction. It would frame his shoulders instead of hiding them. He looked up at her and then back to the shirt.

“Nope, nope,” he said snatching it from her, “I bow to your superior taste, that is much better.” He shucked off the other shirt and put on the new one. Even he could immediately see the difference in how he held himself.

“That’s because Ellie is always right,” a voice teased from the doorway.

Eddie turned to see the newcomer and really he needed to stop being surprised on who Steve chose to work with. It was becoming annoying.

The woman, because of course Rob was a she, had dark, choppy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and smile on her lips. She wore boxy men’s clothes and pulled it off better than he could have. Her olive green pants were rolled up to just above her boots to show off her unicorn socks. She wore a black t-shirt under a floral print, billowy button up that was tied at her waist and instead of a belt she wore rainbow suspenders. It shouldn’t have gone well together, but it absolutely did.

She walked up to him and stuck out her hand. “Robin Buckley. Most folks just call me ‘Rob’,” she greeted with a half shrug.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie replied taking her hand, and meant it. He had never met people so much his speed in his life.

Robin smirked at him. “I’m sure. So I’m assuming you’re familiar with the brand? Ravenscroft?”

Eddie nodded. “They always sounded like something out of an Agatha Christie novel, but yeah. I’ve even used their products on occasion if I wanted something more glam for an event or whatever.’

“They’re a really good company,” she agreed. “And with them getting their start in theatre it makes my little drama nerd heart happy.” She clutch her hands to her chest and Eddie burst out laughing. “So we’re going to start with the full face makeup of the corpse style then go more Ziggy Stardust and into glam rock. Then to finish it off with clean style but clearly metal aesthetic.”

“Will you marry me!?” he cried getting on his knees. “You actually know what metal is!”

Robin giggled. “Sorry, staunch lesbian. If there was anyone that I would join in a lavender marriage, it would be Steve. He’s my platonic soulmate.”

Eddie blinked up at her and then cocked his head to the side. He leapt to his feet and dusted off his knees. He turned to see Ellie eyeing him critically. “No harm was done to the clothes, milady. I would never put such wonder garb in any real danger.”

Ellie nodded curtly with a sniff and then she sailed out of the room as if she really was a lady at some high court.

Robin watched her go with an amused smile on her face. “I think you might created a monster with the lady bit.”

Eddie grinned at her unrepentantly. “It’s my honest pleasure.”

Robin shook her head but got to work, opening her kit. She had swapped out most of her usual makeup with the stuff from Ravenscroft. She kept her moisturizers and got to work Eddie’s face.

Eddie tilted his head back and allowed Robin to do her job. After he had heard that they had talked to Vickie and seeing the stuff they used, Eddie felt safe in their hands.

Robin spun him around to face the mirror. “All right. Open your eyes.”

Eddie gasped. The makeup was striking. He looked like Death. Capital D and everything. In many ways he was reminded of Peter Stormare who played Satan in that Keanu Reeves ‘Constantine’ movie.

“Wow.”

Robin giggled. “I like that. Now, go knock Steve’s socks off.”

Eddie frowned. He wondered what that was about. He shrugged and hopped out of the chair to go out to the studio where Steve was waiting for him. He was sitting on the same hard folding chair fiddling with his camera.

“Hey.”

Steve looked up and a broad smile spread out over his face and Eddie’s stomach turned into molten lava. “Wow! I know Rob is the best, but damn she’s outdone herself this time.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’m just going to take a test picture to send it to Kimmy to make sure this is direction the company wants to go.”

Eddie let him take the picture and then got settled on a black leather chair. “I thought I was going to be in the folded chair at first.”

Steve looked up from his camera. His eyes twinkled and a soft smile crept up his face. “I never liked the idea. Why should the start of it be sparse when the rest of the shoot will be decadent? So I ‘borrowed’ this chair from my dad’s office.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. Did this guy literally imply he stole his dad’s chair? “So what will you say happened to the folding chair?” He pointed at the offending object.

Steve stood up and then knelt down and fiddled with something underneath. He held up one finger and Eddie cocked his head to the side, intrigued. Steve sat on it and it suddenly collapsed under his weight. Eddie was on his feet in a heartbeat as Steve laughed.

Eddie helped him to his feet and Steve jumped up so that they were so close they were almost touching.

“Thanks!” he said brightly. “So if you’re ready, get into position and we’ll get this show on the road.”

Eddie scoffed. “No one says that shit anymore.” But he walked back over to the armchair. He flopped on it dramatically and then turned to Steve and licked his upper lip slowly. Then there was a flash in his face. He guessed Steve really liked that.

The next couple of hours was getting as many shots of Eddie in the corpse makeup, before he called a break. During the shoot sometimes Robin or Max would come in a touch up something before diving back to whence they came.

The first thing Eddie did was dive for a water bottle. Even though Steve kept a cooler full of the things that Eddie had access the whole time, he was still parched.

“Should we go see what craft services has for us?” Steve asked jutting his head in the direction of a set of doors Eddie hadn’t noticed before.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie said a little breathless. “I demolish half a cow I’m so hungry.”

“I know what you mean,” Steve replied, leading the way through the doors. “I don’t know how taking pictures for two hours burns up so much energy, but it does.”

“I think for me,” Eddie said, nervously bouncing on the toes of his feet as he walked, “it’s having to stay still for so long.”

Steve nodded. “If you ever need to just get up and walk around to get the blood flowing again, let me know and I’ll call one for you.”

Eddie gulped. He wasn’t sure if what he said was a double entendre or not, but he could feel the heat on his cheeks under the makeup.

Once they got to the craft services, the girls had gotten there first and were all ready chowing down on the most delicious looking sub sandwiches Eddie had ever seen. They had wraps and three kinds of bread. Different kinds of cheeses and meats. All sorts of vegatables too. From bell peppers to avocados to lettuce and tomatoes. Steve went for the turkey and piled it on with avocados, lettuce, tomatoes and ranch dressing.

“You know that was looking pretty healthy until you dumped ranch on it,” Eddie huffed, a tinge of laughter peaking out.

Steve chuckled. “They didn’t have chipolte ranch otherwise I would have done that instead.”

“You are strange little man,” Eddie said shaking his head. He went for the whole wheat bread and Italian dressing over lettuce and chicken with Colby jack cheese.

“What no avocados?” Steve asked peering over his shoulder to look at his wrap.

“They’re slimy!” Eddie protested. “I don’t know how you can stand them!”

“Let me guess, you are one of those like ketchup, hate tomatoes kind of guys, huh?”

Eddie blushed from his cheeks all the way up to the roots of his hair. “Guilty as charged.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on you menace, let’s get some food in you.” He grabbed a couple of waters and led Eddie back to the table that had the girls.

Max a Monster energy drink in front of her and nothing else; Eddie thought that was very on brand of her honestly.

Robin had a veggie wrap and a bottle of water, while it looked like Ellie had piled everything on there. All the meats, all the cheeses. Mayo and mustard and ranch dressing to boot.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at her. “You going to be able to even bite down on that?”

Ellie raised the sub to her mouth and bit down on it, keeping eye contact with Eddie the whole time.

“I swear she just unhinges her jaw,” Max huffed, rolling eyes.

Ellie just grinned around her bite as Steve shook his head.

“Man, I think even a snake would be impressed with her ability to take a bite.”

They got to chatting and it was nice. Usually Eddie ate in his dressing room so to not have to deal with all the glares and whispered back chat from the crew.

But there was none of that here. At least not yet. Eddie was still reserving judgment until the last day. They might get annoyed with him still.

~

Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chaotic-waffle @steddieislife @oh-no-its-danger-gays @ollieolive @micheledawn1975

10- @little-birch-boy @alfhitchblonde @tartarusknight @chocolateracconlights @spookycollectorcandies

[luvo27]

because they got me thinking about it, here's a fics I probably won't write: the idea behind my silly (by which i mean horrifying hopefully) wayne family adventures fic!!

premise: told through a weird and funky novelization of chapters of wayne family adventures. there is something something magic plague something something. the batfam (at as dysfunctional as you can get stage) is getting brainwashed/forced to play happy families in a shared dream (the dream being wfa)

there are little glitches as people fall asleep and characters join the hallucination one by one and sometimes people are like whattt the hell am i doing here and then they get zapped into happy family time. and it works because there's a part of them that wants happy family.

at some point things break a little too hard (a character references a really bad argument that never got resolved outside the dream or some such) and there's a glitchy blow up argument between a couple of characters, and then it cuts off. the next chapter resumes and those characters are still there, but Different. Happier and Smiley-er Family. from there it goes from shared hallucination to bruce's individual hallucination as the other characters are yoinked out one by one as the dream keeps breaking. and then bruce is left with these kind of like. happy smiling mannequin people. and he's alone in the dream.

this is when outside magic intervention comes in as the jla or some such have been doing actual work in the real world and the batfam start waking up slowly in a superhero hospital ward and none of them can look at each other because they all remember their happy family moments and they all go their separate ways as fast as they can

eventually they get all the information about the magic disease thing and they all find out that their shared dream/hallucination only worked (for however long it did) because there was a part of them that wanted it. and they have to face the fact that they wanted it, and they have to face the fact that even though the dream/hallucination magic was created to keep them in the dream together, they still managed to be so dysfunctional that they broke it. and then they have to deal with the fact that everyone else knows that they wanted happy families.

from here, depending on the characters involved in whichever different relationship, there are multiple ways it can go. they can realize that the other person wants to repair their relationship, reach out and make amends, as awkward as it might be. They can be haunted by the knowledge of how the other person wants to repair the relationship, and how they managed to break it in the dream even with the dream pushing the happy family reality upon them, and decide for good that they're better off without each other and learn how to grieve what could have never been. they can continue to hover awkwardly around each other and ignore everything that happened and fall back into the status quo, except for how sometimes they'll accidentally reference something that only happened in the Happy Families dream.

this is a story about the difference between the dream you can never have because there is too much history and hurt, and the horrible difficult reality of people who might truly want to repair a relationship and do better, and don't know how to get there and the different ways that reality can turn out.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i’m so excited for your request event eek!! :DDD if you ever get the time, maybe micheal kaiser, but like post marriage? :O

── AIRPORT VISIT

Synopsis: You pick up your husband from the airport, finally reuniting with him after his long trip abroad.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: married couple, lots of banter, talks about insurance??, kaiser hates blue lock but he has to secure the bag i fear 😔, probably ooc because this is an established relationship so he’s kind of sweet…consider it off screen development LMAO

A/N: hello my dear i’m so sorry this took me a sec to respond to!! kaiser is such a funky guy hehe i tried my best writing him in this type of scenario…i hope you like it 💖

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own. now closed!

The airport was colder than you had expected, and you wrapped the sweater you had stolen from Michael’s closet tighter around your shoulders, hiding the lower half of your face in it as you stared at the customs area. Your eyelids were heavy and threatened to droop shut entirely, but you had promised that you would come pick him up, and you didn’t want his first sight of you after almost a month to be you dozing off on your feet.

Shuffling over to a bench and suppressing a yawn when you realized it might still be a bit of time before he came out, you tucked your legs up next to you and leaned your head against the cool white wall beside you. Given the late hour, the airport was all but deserted, or at least as close to deserted as a place so constantly active could be. The steady drone of the air conditioning — which you wished they would turn down! — was mind-numbing, and despite yourself, you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad if you just closed your eyes for a moment. You wouldn’t sleep, you would only rest them so that you appeared cheery and bright when Michael finally arrived…

The next thing you knew, there was a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently awake. You shot to your feet, panic shooting through you at the thought that you were being attacked or something, but when you realized your ‘assailant’ was none other than your dear husband, who you had spent hours waiting for, you relaxed.

“You should’ve just stayed home,” he said, clicking his tongue at you, reaching out to ruffle your hair. His bags sat by his feet, and yawning, you picked one up. “Hey, is that my sweater?”

“Mhm,” you said as you traipsed towards where you had parked your car. “I like this one. I can’t believe I haven’t taken it before.”

He made a face at you. “Stop stealing my clothes.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from taking my things, if you’re bristling at the unfairness,” you said, unlocking the car and opening the trunk, helping him heft his things into the back to hasten the process.

“No thanks. Your clothes are ugly; that’s why you always have to take mine, right?” he said, pressing the button so that the trunk would shut. You yawned again, blinking your eyes open and shut a few times to clear your vision, shaking your head as you did so.

“You’re the one who buys half of them, so what does that say about your taste?” you said. “Yours are just more comfortable.”

“I can start buying you men’s clothes instead, since you insist on wearing them all of the time,” he said, snatching the keys from out of your pocket and sliding into the driver’s side before you could protest.

“Well, but it’s not the same,” you said. “Also, what are you doing? The whole point of me coming to pick you up was so that you didn’t have to drive and all. Aren’t you tired?”

“I just slept for an entire plane ride,” he said. “I’m as energetic as Ness when he gets his hands on espresso. You, on the other hand, will probably crash this car if you’re allowed to drive it, and then we’d have to deal with insurance, so I’d really prefer it if you just get in the passenger seat and leave this to me, because our agent is a bitch.”

“She’s not that bad,” you said. 

“Every day that I don’t have to call her is a good day,” he said. “Now, are you coming, or should I just leave you here?”

You scoffed even as you ducked into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt. “You should’ve left me behind. I could’ve caught a ride with Ness. I’m sure he’d be less mean about it.”

“Ha, ha,” Michael said. “That was so funny. Did you recently update my will to make yourself my sole benefactor? Because if so, you’re in luck. I just died. Died of laughter. I’m dead now, which means you’re a rich woman, Mrs. Kaiser.”

“Shut up, you overdramatic oaf,” you said.

“You’re so rude to the man who just made you wealthy,” he said, taking your hand and holding it to his lips as he pulled out of the airport parking lot. “I’m worth more than Ness. Don’t even joke about going with him again. He won’t give you anything when he dies. You’ll be left broke and unhappy.”

“Right, because your net worth is why I agreed to marry you,” you said. “No other reason.”

“That combined with my good looks and my amazing talent, I’m sure,” he said.

“Your humility was only a bonus,” you said. He dropped your hand and shot you a mock glare.

“Just remember who’s in control of this car! What if I crash it? Then you’ll regret everything!” he said.

“You’ll regret it more,” you said. “I’ll make you call the insurance agent.”

“What if I’m on my deathbed?” he said. “What if I’m bleeding out at the scene of the crash? What would you do then, huh?”

“I’d use your phone to call an ambulance, and I’d use mine to call the agent so that you could talk to her while we waited for help to come,” you said.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Cold. We haven’t seen each other in a month and this is how you’re treating me.”

“I did miss you,” you said, resting your temple against the cool glass of the window. “I wish you didn’t have to go all of the way to Japan every year to help out with that program.”

He sighed. “Believe me, if they paid even a dollar less, I wouldn’t. I hate those stupid Blue Lock bastards, and every time I have to interact with them, I lose ten years off of my lifespan. ”

“Oh, no,” you said. “Remind me when you’re about to run out completely. I’ll update your will, just in case.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned.

“Really, though, is there anyone you don’t complain about talking to?” you said. “At this rate, you’re not going to have very many years left at all. Will you leave me a widow so soon?”

He gave you a charming grin. “I like talking to you. That’s why I married you.

“Did those Blue Lock boys teach you about this kind of thing alongside soccer?” you said. “I don’t remember you being quite so smooth when you left. Was it Yoichi Isagi? You mentioned him a lot in your texts.”

“Y/N,” Michael said gravely. “I would strip naked, swim in a vat of acid, and then sleep with Don Lorenzo on a bed of nails before I would ever take advice from Isagi.”

“Poor Lorenzo,” you said, laughing at the mental image of what he was describing. “Why’d you throw him under the bus like that?”

“We took the same plane back from Japan,” he explained. “He had a layover here, so you could say he’s just a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Jeez,” you said. “Alright, I get it. You just thought about me so frequently and fondly that you came up with these lines all on your own.”

“Exactly,” he said smugly. “I don’t need stupid Isagi to tell me how to impress you. Only I know how to do that, anyways, so why would I ask someone else for help?”

“Sorry for the suggestion,” you said as he pulled into the garage of our home. “And thank you for driving. If only your flight had been a little bit earlier! I really would have driven you back.”

“Next time,” he said, patting your head as he helped you out of the car. “Or I can call a taxi and you can just stay home from now on, so that neither of us are inconvenienced.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” you said with a pout, helping him bring his things inside. He smiled slightly, kissing your forehead with the utmost of delicacy.

“Just you being here is nice enough for me,” he said. “Don’t put yourself through so much trouble, okay? The knowledge that you’re waiting at home for me makes me happier than anything else ever could.”

“Okay,” you said reluctantly. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed now, alright?”

“You, too,” you said.

“I will, but on one condition,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“You take my sweater off,” he said. “It’s mine, seriously!”

“Looks like you’re sleeping on the sofa tonight, then,” you said.

“Y/N,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You have me now. Aren’t I much warmer and better than a sweater?”

“Hm,” you said. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he said. “Fine. I guess I’ll just see myself back to Japan, then.”

“Don’t do that,” you said. “It’s too cold without you here, and lonely, too. I’ll even take the sweater off if you’ll stay.”

“You’re so unfair,” he said. “How am I supposed to say no to you? You can keep the stupid sweater.”

“And you?” you said. He pinched your cheek affectionately.

“I suppose you can keep me, too.”

[somniseeker]

“ding!” [ undertale x reader ]

series masterlist : [here] | chapter one

summary: you can’t sleep, and at 3:49 AM, a notification pulls you into a mysterious group chat called UnderChat. the members—quirky and chaotic sans au’s like ink, fresh, and error—welcome you as their newest recruit, insisting you’re from an alternate universe. confused but curious, you hesitate to believe them, wondering if you’ve stumbled into the strangest roleplay or something more.

3:49 AM

That was the time, obviously. You were not catching a wink of sleep tonight, even though those eyes of yours were pratically burning at this point. Blinking at the bright light which popped up when you clicked a notifaction. "DING!" echoed the phone on full volume: You were just about to scroll through tumblr aud—

Oh.

Oh. . 

You've been added to a groupchat.

Immediately sitting up you rubbed your eyes, curiousity gleaming in them.

UnderChat 

You don't remember downloading that app. . Perhaps you accidentally clicked on one of those explicit advertisements on accident while reading on pirated websites, that seems like a plausible explanation. Still doesn't explain why you're recieving notifactions saying your in a groupchat. A groan escaped your lips as you clicked the notifaction, although accepting the fact this was some sort of call-out cancel groupchat, an accidental add, or it's fake and it's a virus. Probably the latter.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[ SLEEPRLUVR has joined the group ]

FunkN'Fresh: wellllp ill be diddly darn darned we gots a new funky fresh membah?

GlitchBitch: Stop typing like that.

FunkN'Fresh: noo can do funny magic maannnnnnnnn

[ GLITCHBITCH has muted the groupchat ]

FunkN'Fresh: you maaaaaaad.

Ink: Oh! New member yay, Okay so I can explain this as your probably confused sans!

Ink: Eheh, "how do you know my name" you might ask! wellllp, yknooow the multiverse and all that stuffs? We made a groupchat!

SLEEPRLUVR: what? 

Ink: Okay so a basic run down of how the app works, the three icon's at the side shows you every AU that has joined so far and what their username is - You need to create a profile with yours!

SLEEPRLUVR: what

Ink: Oh— You must still be confused, I'll just do it for you! What AU are you from?

SLEEPRLUVR: what.

Ink: ...

Fell2cool4school: prolly from "what"!tale lmfao

SLEEPRLUVR: no, just wasn't expecting roleplayers in my schedule today. i can do this - what aus are open?

.

.

.

The chat suddenly went dead silent, leaving you staring groggily at your phone, squinting at the screen. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Does it really take this long to grab a character masterdoc? It's been a while since you last roleplayed, but this felt off. When the next message finally popped up, you couldn't help but roll your eyes. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Ink: Oh, uh... this isn't exactly roleplay, but I get why you'd think that! Anyway, we’ve got a lot of AUs here, so take your pick! Let’s see… there’s Underswap, Underfell, Dancetale, and even some wacky ones like Dusttale and Underlust, but let’s not go there unless you’re into, well, *that* kind of stuff. 

SLEEPRLUVR: ...i’m just going to ignore that last part.

Fell2cool4school: aww c’mon, why skip out on the fun? 😈

SLEEPRLUVR: This is ridiculous. Okay, so let's say I believe this whole “multiverse” thing. Why am I here?

Ink: Well, every AU needs a representative! Think of it like... a council! Each universe gets one member to join the chat, share ideas, keep peace, y’know? And... well, you’re the lucky one picked from your AU!

SLEEPRLUVR: but i don’t even know what AU i’m from. how am i supposed to “represent” it?

FunkN’Fresh: uhhh doesn’t seem too funkay to me, guess they jus got dropped here like a beeboppin’ newbie!

GlitchBitch: Figures. Another clueless one. Just what we needed.

Ink: Don’t mind them! We’ll figure out your AU together! It’s kinda exciting, right?

SLEEPRLUVR: mmm, more like nerve-wracking. can i leave?

Ink: Nope! Once you’re in, you’re in. But don’t worry, we’re all friends here! ...Sort of.

Fell2cool4school: speak for yourself, inkhead. i ain't here to make friends. only enemies. and sometimes frenemies. but mostly enemies.

SLEEPRLUVR: yyyeah, i’m definitely going to regret this. okay, so if I’m stuck here… how do I create this profile thing?

Ink: Just tell me a bit about yourself, and I’ll set it up for you! Favorite color? Likes? Dislikes? Any cool abilities? C’mon, spill!

SLEEPRLUVR: umm… favorite color? any, I guess. Likes? Sleeping. Dislikes? Waking up. Abilities? being normal???

GlitchBitch: Abilities: None. Fitting.

Ink: rainbow, sleeping, normal. Got it! I’ll just make your profile super quick…

FunkN’Fresh: "likez sleeping" heh. typical standard sans bruh.

[INK is typing…]

Ink: Done! Welcome to the UnderChat, SLEEPRLUVR!

SLEEPRLUVR: …i’m going to need a lot of coffee for this, aren’t I?

FunkN’Fresh: forget coffee, maaaaan. get some soda in yer veins, get the funky fresh groove goin’!

GlitchBitch: Or you could just log off and get back to your irrelevant existence. Just saying.

SLEEPRLUVR: …i’m starting to think leaving this group would be the sanest option.

Fell2cool4school: too late for that, buddy. you're one of us now. welcome to the madness.

     You sat on your bed, legs crossed beneath you, staring at the screen with a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. That was... ermmm, certainly an experience. These people seemed like some serious kinnies or something. You hadn't seen roleplayers this deep in character since the wild days of Danganronpa Kokichi Tumblr drama. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, debating your next move. You had things to do in the morning, so maybe it would be smart to just get some sleep. But then again—shouldn’t you figure out which AU to be? They didn’t even give you a proper list of what was available!

     You could at least deduce a few things. Obviously, GlitchBitch was the Error Sans of the group, with his snarky, broken-text vibes. Ink was, well, Ink, and FunkN’Fresh was soo stereotypically hippie, it was a dead giveaway who he was supposed to be. But who else was in this group—this "UnderChat" as Ink called it? And how were you supposed to see these profiles they mentioned? The whole thing was making your head spin, trying to figure it out.

     Still, as you finally set your phone down and pulled your covers over you, you couldn't help but feel a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Yeah, it was weird—being added to some mysterious group chat by what seemed like over-enthusiastic roleplayers—but there was something almost... nostalgic about it. It had been a while since you just sat back and played pretend, no matter how weird the scenario... or old the fandom was.

     Maybe tomorrow you’d hit up the Undertale Wiki and find a cool AU to rp as. After all, if you were going to be stuck here, you might as well have some fun with it.

* A/N: uhm, this was written for ao3 and crossposted on quotev and now we're here. it looks best, imo, on quotev because it comes with extra media!! but im here because ppl can send asks n stuff for extra content of the skellies. please reblog or comment , it helps my motivation

[infamous-if]

hi amy i really really hope this doesnt sound rude but why are you rewriting the old chapters when you could be focusing on new ones instead? and maybe once the if is finished you can rewrite it? because at this rate you’ll be rewriting the if every year… im genuinely curious sorry if it sounds rude tho obviously im excited for the rewrite and i love love infamous so much !! take care of yourself above all else

hi! and don't worry, I understand!

I said a few times I had to rewrite the first 2 chapters because the variables and stats start getting hefty and begin having more importance starting chapter 3 and beyond. I wrote the demo when I didn't know much about coding and my code is really funky and out of wack and just really messy + the stats aren't as balanced as I wanted them to be. Basically, if I waited, I'd end up having to rewrite it halfway because I've dug myself in a hole. I'd much rather get these two chapters out of the way before I get deeper into the story. Plus, narratively, there are a few essential things I want to fix.

Really, it's just because the first two chapters are really messy code wise. I have no plans to rewrite every few chapters or so! Next time, I'd definitely wait until it's really really necessary or near the end :)

Thank you!! <3

[vorfreudevortex]

2. SHDW1

a street racer!ino takuma x f!reader fic

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 1 // next: chapter 3

warnings // 6k words - swearing, alcohol, smoking, reckless driving (duh), all characters in college or recently graduated, mount hakone's details are not accurate for the sake of the story so pls don't try to clown me for it, fighting and arguing, mentions of weapons, club scene, dancing/grinding bc it’s canon to me that ino is a fantastic dancer

✰ // the cars and the reader’s appearance in this fic are purposely kept ambiguous so you are free to have aspects look, feel, and be modified any way you’d like.

the vibes for chapter two

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

your body buzzes.

there was quite a crowd at the top of mount hakone. cars line the shoulder of the straight, all modified to hell and back. other teams, car fanatics, and random onlookers stood by; bumping music, smoking and drinking, and getting loose before the race started. it was mostly men, but gorgeous girls in their shortest skirts were mixed in, just wanting to have fun with expensive cars and free drinks on the weekend. you watched from afar as their music and chatter floated up into the stars.

“where the hell is this guy?” satoru whines. suguru's idling nsx is parked in the right lane of the road, just before the starting line. the five of you stand beside the warm motor, letting suguru and shoko's cigarette smoke waft through your hair. the guy who wanted to race your brother still hadn’t shown his face.

you and shoko had gotten ready for the race together, showing off your latest streetwear was always the thing to do at these events. you couldn’t help but don your tightest black corset, a leather skirt and knee-high platform boots. shoko had let you borrow a funky-patterned oversized jacket to wear when the dark mountain air got too cold, while she chose bright red jeans and a blue top.

the boys looked just as handsome. satoru wore loose jeans and a graphic tee, kento with tapered trousers, a linen button up and crisp sneakers, and suguru with an all black ensemble of cargo pants and a hoodie.

“he must’ve pussied out,” suguru says, crushing his finished cigarette into the crunchy gray asphalt.

“we’ll have to find a replacement if he doesn’t show,” kento grunts.

“it’s been 15 minutes, i don’t think he’s coming,” shoko rolls her eyes while smoke puffs out of her glossed lips.

getting bored, you lean dramatically into satoru's arm. “this suuucks! i just wanna see someone race.”

“well,” satoru giggles and ruffles your hair. “we can’t keep clutch waiting around. let’s find someone else.”

the five of you walk over to the shoulder, where the crowd is growing more anxious by the second. they look at your brother expectantly, and whispers of the man who bailed float around.

“looks like he’s not showing up,” suguru announces. “who wants to go?”

the crowd quiets to a murmur, everyone turning heads and waiting for someone to volunteer.

“i'll race you.”

you look up to see the black-haired boy from earlier today, the one that was next to ino. his face holds no expression and his hands are buried in his pockets. he looks like he couldn’t give less of a fuck. his stoic eyes and strong jaw reminds you of someone, but you can’t begin to place who.

“alright, fushiguro,” your brother nods. “let’s go.”

oh, fushiguro? you had no idea he had a son. no— he goes by zenin, right? you recall the exciting stories your dad would tell you as a kid of his past thrilling nights and rivalries. zenin was one of them; you had seen occasional glimpses of him in the garage during visits as a child. he was an absolutely terrifying man, with a prominent scar on his mouth from a bad wreck in his youth.

“two things before we start,” fushiguro says, and your brother pauses. you spot ino, and behind him the tattooed man and the pink-haired boy, as well as another guy with a bun in his hair. you make brief eye contact and your heart flutters, before tearing your attention back to your brother.

“first, i'm racing for pinks tonight,” fushiguro states, and a few whistles come from the onlookers. “and my dad’s here tonight. so no bullshit.” he gestures to his side, but you can’t spot his father in the crowd.

“there’s never bullshit,” suguru scoffs. “racing for pinks? fine. your r34 will cry in relief when i finally get behind the wheel of that thing.”

the jab doesn’t stick for you and your unfamiliarity of the shadows’ racing style, but the onlookers snicker as they know that fushiguro is a notoriously aggressive driver and runs through cars and tires faster than anyone here tonight. he doesn’t respond to your brother, but leaves to pull his car up to the starting line. suguru revs his engine to make sure its warmed up, it purrs and pulls in place.

satoru and kento send him off with handshakes and pats before heading to their own vehicles to different markers along the pass. there will be someone posted at each mile with a radio to update the listening crowd on the race, as well as warn the drivers and audience of any hazards or police as they make their way down the line. you stick your head through suguru's open window.

“drive safe, sugu,” you smile, pressing a small peck to his cheek.

“don’t worry ‘bout me, clutch,” he smiles, not a single nervous bone in his body. “when i get his r34, i'll let you have it.”

you and shoko stand off to the side as the flag girl settles between suguru and fushiguro’s cars, raising her arms. the paints glitter under the moonlight and stars, trembling over their hot engines as they start to burnout at the countdown, prepping their tires and getting them sticky. your heart starts to pound once more, the anticipation and stakes of the race are almost too much to handle. her arms fly downwards, and the race begins.

the two cars peel away from the line, the rubber screeching out and making your ears ring. you let out cheers and shouts alongside the crowd as your brother flies deep into the forest, motors screaming as they echo through the mountainside and disappear.

“phantoms start in the lead,” you hear the pager crackle and boom from a nearby stereo system.

the crowd fizzles a bit, most of them turning back to conversations and liquor bottles while the race fanatics gather closer to the stereo, you along with them.

“i’m gonna go catch up with some friends,” shoko says, motioning towards a group of rowdy girls across the road. “you wanna come with, or stay and listen to the race?”

“i’ll stay,” you respond. “but go on ahead! i’ll see you in a bit.”

you wave her off and take a seat on a rounded post that supported the road’s guardrail, just a few feet behind the crowd bunched around the stereo.

“mile 1, phantoms in the lead,” you hear kento’s voice over the speaker.

“hey!”

your head turns, eyes landing on ino. he stands before you with that same sweet smile.

“oh, hi!” you smile. “thanks again for the pictures, ino-san.”

“it’s no big deal, i’m glad you liked them.”

“so,” you shift in your seat. “you didn’t wanna race my brother tonight, huh?”

“not tonight. i’m still getting my baby tuned just right after some new tires. your brother isn’t easy to race, but i guess megumi wanted the smoke tonight,” he jokes.

“there’s no way suguru would give up his car so easily,” it’s your turn to tease again. “it’s a good thing he won’t lose.”

ino laughs, the handsome sound making the tips of your ears turn hot. “well, megumi won’t give up any easier. so i guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”

“mile 2, shadows in the lead,” and the listeners chatter at the update.

“you know, for someone who’s never passed through mount hakone, you had a pretty quick time this morning,” he steps closer to you. “your brother must’ve taught you well.”

“he keeps me calm,” you nod. “but my time wasn’t that impressive. i think i've just had some good practice swinging around intersections back home.”

“mile 3, phantoms in the lead,” the speaker crackles again. you glance up at ino after the announcement and he sheepishly smiles.

“looks like it’s gonna be a close one,” he shrugs. “well, no matter the outcome… uh—”

he clears his throat. “—we're all gonna hang out at the underground after the race. you should come!”

“the underground?”

“it’s a club in shibuya we usually go to. it’ll just be my boys and a few other close friends meeting up there.” the dim floodlights fail to hide the light shade of pink that tinges ino’s cheeks. your stomach flips at his offer, heart pounding. your fingers twitch.

“oh, i don’t think my brother would like that very much,” you giggle nervously, your own cheeks turning red. “but thanks so much for inviting me!”

“no worries… i better leave you alone before someone rats me out,” he grins. “uh, text me, yeah?”

“mile 4, shadows in the lead.”

you politely nod. “see you around!”

“for sure,” ino takes two steps away from you before he turns back around. “by the way, you look beautiful tonight, y/n.”

he’s gone before you can even process it.

✰✰✰✰✰

takuma ino has great timing, because no less than 5 minutes after he disappears, you spot satoru’s and kento’s tall mess of light hairs bobbing through the crowd. they’ve done their jobs and have made their way back up the mountain to wait for suguru to cross the line once more. blue eyes meet yours and he waves with a smile as he guides kento to you.

“suguru’s got this one in the bag,” he reassures, patting your head like a dog.

“ugh, don’t do that, toru!”

“why?” he brings his face closer to yours. “tryna look pretty for someone, hm?”

“quit, satoru,” kento huffs.

“no,” you reply. “most girls don’t like when their hair gets fucked up after spending so long on it. you should know that better than anyone.”

satoru feigns a gasp, as if he doesn’t see a different girl every weekend. “are you calling me a slut?”

“well i’m not saying you’re a virgin.”

“jesus, stop it,” kento says.

“mile 7, shadows in the lead.”

“they’ve been going back and forth all night,” you point out over the chatter. “suguru will be upset if he has to give up his keys to that boy.”

“he’d kill someone before allowing that to happen,” kento reassures, but it doesn’t sound comforting to you. 

suguru is one of the most relaxed people you know, even his angry words aren’t loud. but he has a kill switch, and there’s nothing scarier than your brother when his temper is lost. you’ve only experienced it twice before, but each incident had left your younger self frozen in fear when his voice and hands would finally raise towards someone. suguru doesn’t fight often, but when he does, his hard fists always land.

“toru, is this fushiguro from the same family as papa’s friend?” you ask. you start to hear the racing motors tearing through the pass, creeping closer and closer. “i thought he went by zenin before.”

“it’s his kid,” he nods, propping a cigarette between his lips. “your papa used to race with him, but he got married and had a kid so his wife made him stop.”

“he took his wife’s last name,” kento adds, the explanation allows the floating information to click together inside your brain. satoru digs in his pockets.

he hands satoru a lighter. kento hates that all of his friends smoke, but gave up trying to convince them to quit a long time ago. you suspect he keeps a lighter in his pocket for when they forget one.

“mile 8, shadows still in the lead.”

“fuck, let’s go,” satoru grabs your arm as he realizes the two are in the last 1/2 mile stretch of the race. kento follows close behind as you’re pulled through an anxious crowd towards the finish line. your blood runs hot as you see the headlights of the cars come around the corner, piercing the mountain’s darkness like a knife.

you recognize suguru’s headlights as the ones in front as they continue to fight for control of the road. you sigh in relief. the cars are a blur as they fly over the finish line, suguru only a few feet ahead of fushiguro. you don’t think much of how close the race was, the crowd cheers and you go pushing between satoru and kento to run towards your brother, stomach twirling in excitement. a few others do the same as the boys slam on their brakes, sending their cars swinging sideways to skid into an abrupt stop haphazardly in the middle of the road.

suguru leaps out of his seat and slams the door behind him, hard. 

oh?

“what the FUCK?!”

you slow your jog as your eyes widen, barely recognizing his roaring voice as cuts into the air. megumi exits his car as well, planting his feet on the warm concrete with tense shoulders and furrowed brows. suguru rushes over to the boy, sweat dripping down his temple from the adrenaline of the pass with fists clenched. you can see the white of his knuckles. his dark hair, which he had pulled into a neat bun, was now a loose and frizzy mess. you come to a stop with heavy breathe, no more than 10 feet away from them.

“you tryna fucking kill me, fushiguro?!”

“shut the fuck up, geto!”

“don’t fucking play with me right now!”

a hand clamps down on your shoulder, jolting you back. you look up and see satoru, his blue eyes wild and serious. your gaze drops down to where his hand rests on the front of his waistband, allowing a rectangular form to be seen through his shirt. 

whoa. since when did satoru own a gun?

“y/n. stay. back.”

you barely hear his snappy command over your racing thoughts. you’re stuck to the concrete, feet unable to move. satoru runs over to suguru and suddenly kento is there as well, latching onto suguru’s shirt with a tight grip. ino appears with the black-haired guy with face tattoos and the broad-shouldered man-bun behind him, all of them hot in the face.

“why the fuck are you driving like that, huh?!” your brother screams, pulling closer and closer to fushiguro. you can only watch the ugly scene in front of you as your stomach flips over on itself. suguru doesn't talk like this to anyone for anything, you know he's teetering over the edge of going absolutely ballistic. “just say you want me dead, just say it, pussy!”

“fuck you!” fushiguro yells back. “it doesn't matter anymore, you won. just take my damn car!”

“i don’t want your fuckass car!”

“suguru, calm down,” kento demands harshly.

“get back, geto,” ino steps in. “this is fucking stupid.”

those were not the right words to say as all the boys are face to face, and suguru lunges towards him. satoru pulls your brother back again before stepping in front of him, the man with a bun shoves into his shoulder. satoru’s pointer finger reaches over and digs into takuma’s chest.

“you don’t want this shit, ino” he hisses into ino’s face. “just leave.”

“i’m not scared of you guys,” takuma asserts, grabbing satoru hand and snatching it away from himself.

“teach your boy some fucking respect,” suguru spits. “he claimed ‘no bullshit’ but you didn’t see the way he was pushing me around back there.”

“i wanted to race, so i raced, dickhead,” fushiguro retorts.

“only your dumbass would call that racing.”

a large, calloused hand comes to rest on your nape, sending chills down your spine.

“geto.”

you aren’t sure if the deep, gruff voice is referring to you or your brother. the boys whip their heads around. when you look up at the sound, you recognize him immediately. toji fushiguro looks down at you from his towering stance, a sly smirk on his scarred lips. his messy, flat black hair casts a shadow over his eyes, making his gaze more menacing.

“please don’t touch me,” your meek voice finally finds words, barely above a whisper. although toji fushiguro’s touch is light, your instinct tells you to step away and your body moves on its own, the man lets his hand fall. it’s been years since you’ve seen this him, but he hasn’t changed other than some added wrinkles. he still exudes an intimidating aura. you can’t believe your papa drinks with this man, let alone allows him into your home.

“y/n,” suguru’s calls, tearing your attention back to him. you must look scared, because his voice is slightly calmer, gentler, than how he was speaking before. “get in the car.”

damn it, you can’t help but know you look weak in front of all these people. your mind is a whirlwind; from suguru’s anger, to satoru’s gun, and now toji fushiguro’s touch. the tips of your fingers twitch as you stare at suguru, frozen. an irritated vein stands out on his sweating forehead. you see ino over his shoulder, but you can’t read his face. you can’t tell what he’s thinking but his eyes are filled with confusion and concern. the younger fushiguro’s face also expresses worry, but his mouth stays shut.

“aw, how sweet of you,” fushiguro mocks your brother. “guess you don’t want your sweet little innocent sister seeing this ugly side of you, huh?”

why the hell is he dragging you into this?

“clutch, i’m not fucking around right now,” suguru obviously strains to keep his voice down for you. “get in kento’s car. now.”

something in your brain suddenly sparks, and you’re immediately turning around and rushing across the road and shoulder to kento’s car. your mind thinks of everything but nothing at the same time, tension reverberating from your body with each step on the concrete. you swing the door of kento’s s13 open as you practically dive into his passenger seat and slam it shut behind you.

as soon as it latches, you hear muffled shouting from several voices. you lean over, arms wrapping around your thighs and forehead resting on your knees, afraid of what you might see if you look out the windshield. you can feel you heart in your throat as you heave, your breathe hard to find in the wild confusion of the night.

the driver’s door flies open and you whip your head. kento immediately turns the motor and puts it in gear.

“i’m taking you home,” he exhales. you can tell he’s bewildered as well, his neat hair coming undone over his eyes and knuckles white over the gear shifter. when you lift you head to look out the window as he pulls away, you see a shadowy silhouette of a tall man standing on the hill behind the line of onlookers’ cars. you think you see a motorbike next to him, but he’s barely visible through the hazy fog of the mountain. it’s odd, to say the least, but not important at the moment. 

you keep quiet. you don’t think it’s worth mentioning.

✰✰✰✰✰

the way home is completely silent aside from the hum of the engine. kento drives you home quickly but safely, his rigidity slowly fading away with each push and pull of the gear shifter. but you haven’t stopped thinking— goddamnit, how you wish your brain would stop thinking. your knee bounces uncontrollably as you suck in a breathe.

“kento?” he hums and glances over to you. “how long has satoru owned a gun?”

he doesn’t speak at first and presses his lips into a tight, thin line.

“a while now,” he finally answers.

“do you have one, too?”

“no.”

“and suguru?”

kento pauses for half a second too long. 

“oh my god— how long has he had one?”

“longer than satoru,” it seems like answering these questions is causing him pain.

“are you lying to me?” your voice is small.

“never.”

it’s your turn to hesitate. you were used to seeing people carry weapons in the car scene back home, where it was so easy to get a hold of one. but to be across the world in a country where only gangs and criminals possessed them, just to find out that your brother and his best friend owned one…

it shocked you. although your mother owned a pistol back home, and you fully knew how to use it, it made you uncomfortable to think your own brother got a hold of one illegally. suguru has always been your safety blanket, the one to call when things went wrong, the one to comfort you. and satoru, the one who always had a watchful eye on the back of your head, the one who you’d always run to if suguru wasn’t there. what are they thinking?

kento parks in front of your house, but you still have one more burning question.

“have they ever… used them before?”

“i don’t think so,” he replies.

“that was supposed to be a yes or no question.”

“i can’t give you that,” he looks… sad?

fine, then. without another word, you slip out of the car and walk inside your home. kento follows right behind you, all the way up the stairs to your room. he pauses at the door, one hand on the knob, as you slump into bed. he seems to know exactly what you’re thinking even though you’re turned away.

“i’m sure your brother is fine.”

“okay,” you croak, eyes burning with tears. tonight was just so… confusing. you could barely wrap your mind around what happened and most importantly, why?

“please try not to worry and get some sleep,” he replies, his voice gentle and solid. “i’ll let him know that you’re home and safe now.”

you hear him shut your bedroom door and pad down the stairs. when he locks the front door after him, you once again hear your papa’s snoring. only then do you let the tears fall, hot and heavy, but suddenly they’re angry tears. you kick off your boots and shove your face into the pillows, you fists trembling with irritation around the fabric.

how could suguru be so... stupid?

✰✰✰✰✰

shadow.takuma: hey are u ok?

shadow.takuma: are u home now??

you snatch up your phone at the notifications. you’ve calmed down now, but the fact that takuma is checking in on your before your own brother is sending hot blood through your veins once again.

clutchcruises: i’m home and i’m totally fine. are you okay?

shadow.takuma: yeah i’m ok!

shadow.takuma: i’m so sorry about megumi’s dad. i didn’t know he was gonna do that

shadow.takuma: and i'm sorry about how i was talking to ur brother

shadow.takuma: it was all really out of pocket

oh? that’s not really the explanation you were expecting.

clutchcruises: it’s okay. don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything!

shadow.takuma: no pls i feel awful. i feel like he really scared u

shadow.takuma: i think he just did it to get ur brother worked up

clutchcruises: he knew it would bc he knows my dad

clutchcruises: i remember him from when i was a kid

shadow.takuma: seriously??

shadow.takuma: that makes it worse… i’m so so sorry

clutchcruises: seriously, it’s alright! i’m over it now

you were totally not over it.

shadow.takuma: ok… well i get it if ur not up for it but i’ll still be at the underground tonight

shadow.takuma: just in case u decide to come!

clutchcruises: it really sounds fun, i’ve never been out in tokyo before

clutchcruises: i just don’t think it’s a good idea rn, i’m sorry

shadow.takuma: don’t be sorry :) i totally get it

shadow.takuma: text me if u change ur mind?

as soon as you like his last message, suguru’s name takes over your phone screen. you sit up in bed and answer the call.

“suguru.”

“y/n? ken told me you’re safe at home?” he sounds stressed.

“yeah.”

“are you okay?”

“i’m... a lot of things right now,” you admit solemnly. the frustrated tears reappear in your eyes but never fall. “are you?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you hear the crackles as he adjusts his phone. “i’m so sorry. i’m fucking embarrassed.”

you stay silent, biting down on your lip. you don’t know how to respond.

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he continues. “i totally lost my temper. and when fushiguro came over, i knew i was about to completely lose it. i can’t believe he put his hands on you, i just—”

“—suguru,” you cut him off and he quiets. “why didn’t you tell me that you and satoru carried guns?”

he pauses. “i just didn’t think you needed to know.”

“where did you even fucking get them?!” you rarely got mad at suguru, but you couldn’t help but snap at him.

“you don’t need to know that either.”

“why not? don’t i deserve to know?”

another pause. “…no.”

you take a deep breathe. “when will you be home?”

“in a while. can we talk then, if you’re still up?”

“i’m still a little upset with you, suguru.” you bite your lip. “can we just wait until the morning?”

“yeah, i guess. get some sleep, okay?”

“suguru?”

“yeah?”

“…i’m going out tonight.”

“...with who?”

“some girls i made friends with tonight.”

you feel him hesitate through the phone. the phone crackles again as he fumbles with it. you wish you could see what he was doing, but a part of you doesn’t even want to know.

“...be safe and smart, please... call me if you need anything. and text me when you’re on the way home.”

“i will.”

“thank you.”

“love you, nii-chan.”

“love you too, clutch.”

✰✰✰✰✰

clutchcruises: otw

you have no idea what you’re doing, honestly. the words just came out of your mouth on the phone with suguru. sure, you wanted to meet up with takuma, but you weren’t actually planning on coming. and after all the bullshit that’s happened tonight, a drink sounds so good. you admit to yourself that you also just wanted to do something rebellious towards your brother after pissing you off.

your fingers thrum against the gear shifter as your mustang purrs through the bright streets of tokyo. you had stripped out of your corset and skirt into backless, dark green halter dress before fussing with your hair. you had never pulled on your platform combat boots so fast in your life. you kneaded your glossed lips together, anxious to death over walking into a club on your own. you were really going to hang out with a boy you’ve had one face-to-face conversation with, and for what? 

the plot? what plot?

after parking, you walked silently alongside scattered and rowdy strangers through the street of shibuya, eyeing your phone desperately. takuma still hasn’t responded to your message. good lord, what are you doing? what will your excuse be when suguru finds out?

you find yourself at the back of the line into the underground far too quickly for your liking. you can hear the pounding bass of the music from outside, echoing through your bones. the girls in front of you wear skirts so short and heels so high that you’re really starting to doubt yourself now. why are you here? the bouncer probably won’t even let you in once he sees the beautiful girls before you—

“y/n!”

you look up, meeting eyes with takuma. he gently wraps his hand around yours.

“you don’t need to wait,” he smiles. “i know the guy who runs this place. c’mon!”

he pulls you out of line and towards the door, where the bouncer doesn’t even look twice as you walk past. takuma leads you down a set of dark stairs, still holding you hand. your eyes widen when you reach the bottom. a huge room opens before you, neon lights and lasers scanning over the cramped crowd and huge speakers lining the ceiling, vibrating with every beat of the catchy song playing. 

the walls are lined with couples messily smacking faces while the dj booth stands in the center of the room with a circular bar surrounding it entirely. it’s one ginormous hub of drinking and dancing while booths and tables make small bubbles of calm as they’re scattered sparsely throughout the bodies.

just before you’re consumed by the crowd, takuma turns and puts a warm palm on the small of your bare back. he leans in, his hot and liquored breathe in your ear. your stomach flips and it feels like your body temperature raises about 20 degrees.

“the shadows have a booth by the bar,” he says. “if you want to drink tonight, we’ve got it all.”

you nod, hoping the neon lasers disguise your bright red cheeks. he grins and takes your hand once again, leading you into the sea of people. it’s completely packed, and you can’t help but be pushed around between drunks. thankfully, takuma never loses his hold on you, even when you harshly bump into a tall, stiff body.

“sorry!” you shout at them over the music.

the person looks down at you with a glare, leaving you cowering. it’s a rough-looking man about suguru’s age who grips a beer and wears a skin tight black shirt and jeans. he has light-colored hair, but you can’t exactly tell what color through the rainbow of lights over you. what you can see, however, is the absolutely horrifying tattoos that cover his face and arms. sharp, black lines blanket his nose, forehead, and jawline. thick bands wrap around his biceps and wrists.

as takuma pulls you away, the man gives you a sly smirk. he stands completely still among the constant movement around him. his dark eyes make direct, excruciating contact with yours until you disappear. you aren’t given any more time to dwell on his odd behavior as takuma leads you into the shadows’ wide, round booth.

the table is sticky with liquor and littered with cigarette butts and empty bottles. megumi and the pink-haired boy are standing and pouring shots, while man-bun and space-buns sit back in the booth, both with girls on their laps and wrapped around their necks. a couple other guys are here, but you don’t recognize them. the four that you do know, however, look up at you with wide eyes.

“uh, takuma?” fushiguro asks.

“what the hell?” man-bun says from his seat. the pink-haired and tattooed boys stay quiet.

“megumi!” takuma smiles at him and puts a hand on the small of your back once again. “this is y/n!”

“i know…” he responds, hesitant. “you— i didn’t think—”

“it’s okay, fushiguro-kun!” you smile with a shrug. “don’t worry about it!”

“i—” he stops and puts his hand to his chest before bowing sheepishly. it seems out of character for him, and you think he might already be drunk by the way he unsteadily sways. “i’m so sorry about me and my dad earlier.”

you wave him off. “seriously, it’s alright!”

“oh wait, that’s the girl?” pink-hair says, obviously very slow to understand. his glazed eyes tell you he’s been drinking for a while.

“a shot or two might make up for it all,” you tease.

“i’m yuji itadori!” he points to space-buns and tattoos first, then the man-bun. “and that’s choso kamo and aoi todo.”

megumi grabs a different bottle. “i hope you like vodka.”

“and i hope you like menthol.” yuji holds a thin white cigarette and lighter out to you, which you accept immediately.

“pour me one too, megumi!” takuma grabs your shoulders. “we gotta celebrate!”

“celebrate what?” you ask. his face is right next to yours as he leans over your shoulder. you can’t peel your eyes away from his glittering brown eyes and toothy smile. he shrugs.

“you’re came. what’s not to celebrate?”

✰✰✰✰✰

once again, your actions are beyond yourself. you didn’t plan to actually come out, but here you were in the underground. you didn’t plan to drink, but here you are with your 3rd drink in your hand after 3 shots, teetering over the line from tipsy to drunk. you didn’t plan on things to go so smoothly, but here you are sitting back in the booth after an hour of nonstop conversation beside takuma. his hand never left you the entire time, either around your hand or on your back while the other held a drink.

but you definitely didn’t plan to blurt out a question you already knew the answer to.

“do you like to dance, takuma?” you immediately regret asking, you just know he’s going to reject you.

“i thought you’d never ask,” he laughs. “i love dancing.”

takuma quickly stands up and pulls you out of the booth. he leads you deeper into the crowd until he finds enough space for the two of you to move. takuma pulls you into his side by the waist, then hesitates and loosens his hold.

“i’m sorry,” he says submissively. “i’m drunk.”

“don’t worry,” you giggle in his ear. “me too.”

takuma turns his face into yours. he looks at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. your noses are just inches away from each other. your sweet vanilla perfume is making him dizzy. you don’t know his stomach is fluttering wildly with butterflies. he doesn’t know yours is too.

the dj transitions into the next song. it’s a mix but you instantly recognize the beat. you gasp.

“oh my god, i love this song!”

takuma smiles. “i’ve never heard this.”

“that’s cause it’s only for the girls.”

you wrap your arms around his neck and his hands come to rest on your waist. now that you’ve stood up and under the strobing lights, you realize you’re much drunker than you thought you were, but can’t find the effort the care anymore. takuma has had his eyes and hands on nothing but you since you got here, but you still want more.

“dance with me, kuma,” you find your intoxicated voice murmuring in his ear as you smile and start swaying your hips. his head spins while his fingertips lightly dig into your sides at your words. takuma swears he’ll never let go. he moves in sync with you to the beat, a permanent grin etched across his face.

he simply can’t believe the situation he’s in right now. the only coherent thought in his liquor-filled head is you. with your silky hair fluttering over his skin and his large hands over the curves of your hips and waist, separated only by the satin of your green dress… someone help him. his brain does backflips every time he’s made contact with the exposed skin of your back. your cheeks are pink from the shots and your glossed lips are puffy from being pursed around a straw or cigarette all night. he just can’t look away.

at first, all takuma wanted was a good look at you, your undeniable innocent beauty was like a magnet he couldn’t escape from. so how did he manage to get you here tonight, drunk and giggly with your body pressed flush against his? god, suguru would beat his ass on sight if he could see where takuma had his hands on you right now.

“you’re a good dancer, takuma.”

“am i?” he twirls the both of you around, evoking a sweet squeal from you before pulling you tighter against him to lean down and whisper in your ear. “what happened to ‘kuma’?”

your face turns red with embarrassment. you wrap your hand around his jaw and turn it away from your burning ear, a finger lingering on his bottom lip. takuma playfully bares his teeth and lightly bites the end of your nail, making your eyes widen before pulling your hand away with a small yelp. he just laughs, he has no idea what he’s doing. the song ends and transitions to another.

“another song?” takuma asks. 

god, he hopes you say yes.

“duh!” you laugh. he spins you so your back is against his chest.

“good, i don’t want you to leave me just yet.”

✰✰✰✰✰

you don’t know how long you and takuma danced for. it seemed like only 5 minutes, but it must’ve been another hour. your feet start to hurt and the liquor is setting in, making you dizzy.

“you okay, pretty girl?” takuma asks, the new nickname tumbling out of his mouth before he knows it. you nod in response. he doesn’t miss your lidded eyes staring at his lips instead of his eyes. 

“you tired?” 

“no,” you shake your head. “but i know i should go home soon.”

he has you facing him again, holding you close. your hand finds takuma’s nape and your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair, sending goosebumps down his back. disappointed by your words, he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“i don’t want you to go,” he admits.

“me neither.”

your noses bump. takuma’s stomach drops. you sigh. he thinks and thinks, then thinks against it. seconds go by…

“you’re so beautiful.” he mumbles. you giggle shyly in response.

nah, fuck it.

“y/n…” his breathe is hot against your lips. “…can i kiss you?”

“yes, please.”

he reaches up, lightly cupping the side of your face. he’s gentle as your mouths connect, moving his lips against yours so soft and slow. he feels you melt into him, and he deepens the kiss. he lets his lips move in sync with yours, the sweet taste of your lip gloss sending searing waves of need down his stomach every time he catches a hint of it.

oh god, he’s practically floating.

you’ve been driving him insane all night, singing to all the songs in his ear and breathing softly on his neck. and even through the most passionate kiss he’s had in his life, his shitfaced brain understands completely that he’s utterly infatuated with you.

takuma slowly, reluctantly pulls away. it leaves both of you panting while your noses continue to poke and prod as he holds your jaw. your cheeks are bright red, and you know it’s not from the alcohol this time. you’re suddenly hypersensitive of his gentle hands against your cheek and the bottom of your back. your stomach feels light and jittery.

you don’t know what to think, incapable of processing anything coherently after takuma kissed you like that. in the few silent seconds after, you must replay it in your mind a hundred times over. you’ve never felt like this before.

nothing else settles in your mind, only takuma ino… but the one thing you seem to be able to comprehend in your empty little head right now rests over you like a warm blanket—

it’s so over for you.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 1 // next: chapter 3

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[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 3

Summary: Now that you have a party to plan, you decide to start with the decorations... but Negan has a more exciting idea in mind.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Negan being an asshole, reader being an asshole too ?

previous chapter can be found here

After your vow to stay resolute in your (accidental) decision to help with the Christmas party, you vanished on Negan. He half-expected you to ambush him first thing the next morning but nothing came.  

In a perfect world, you would have gone home that day, realized your pettiness and followed Negan’s original advice. You would have humbled yourself and gone straight to Gregory, petitioning for this pain in the ass party to be called off.

“Carl! That funky eye of yours doesn’t mean your legs don’t work!” Negan shouts at one of the students in his afternoon class “Run for the ball, damn it! Quit standing on the sidelines!”.

The whistle around Negan’s neck swings as he struts along the side of the basketball court, muttering to himself. Despite the chill in the air, it’s sunny outside and so they’re not all stuck inside the sports hall, where Negan would’ve been trapped in the thick air of sweaty, hormonal teens. 

But that’s not the only reason he’s glad to be outside on the courts. After Negan’s plan backfired and filled you with spiteful devotion to the Christmas party, he can’t bear to be in the sports hall, knowing it’s only a matter of time before his colleagues wreck havoc on his little slice of heaven.

A polite cough behind him pulls him out of his thoughts. Negan is about to grumble to some kid to cover their mouth but when he glances behind, he sees you instead. 

“Fan- fucking -tastic,” Negan says drily “my day has just got ten times better”.

The sight of a notebook pressed against your chest makes him want to groan. Hoping for some kind of a miracle, he asks “You get the party cancelled yet?”.

You join him by the sidelines, smiling mischievously. “Nope,” you reply cheerfully “I think I’d rather torture you by making you help organize it instead”. 

Negan scoffs, looking back at the game. You take it as your que to continue. Looking down at your notebook you read the small list you’ve made of the different categories you’ll both have to tackle. 

Food. Drink. Music. Decorations.

You read your small list out loud before thinking “Is there anything else a party needs? I guess we could have some kinda entertainment, right?”.

With a long exhale, Negan rubs his forehead “You want a bunch of middle aged teachers to play party games?”. 

You shrug “Well, I don’t know how else to keep them entertained…”

“Booze. That’s all you need, not charades or pin the tail on the donkey”.

You write that down, encircling the drinks category before continuing “Well, I’m free for the rest of the day so whenever you want to—“.

“Christ, Patrick! Follow through on your shot!” Negan interrupts, yelling at another poor kid “better fix that limp wrist for your sake!”.

You blink at the… uh… advice, if you could call it that. 

Negan begins making his way down the side of the court, following the action surrounding the basketball as he shouts more words of wisdom. You watch with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, suddenly feeling more confident in your own, calmer teaching style.  

When Negan finally turns his attention back to you, he raises an eyebrow, his tone turning sarcastic again.

"Class ends in about ten minutes. How about we talk afterwards, so you're not following me around like a damn shadow?" he sighs, checking his watch.

Before you can retort your own thinly veiled insult, he’s off shouting at the kids again, this time clapping his arms to really amp them up.

You shake your head, grip tightening on your notebook as you turn on your heels to leave. Your plan was to just wait in his office but once you get to the door, your eyes are drawn to the adjacent double doors of the sports hall. 

If this is where you’ll be having the party, you may as well get a lay of the land now. 

Creeping inside the barren hall, it’s the quietest you’ve ever seen it. The large room is almost eerie without the clatter of basketballs or the sounds of kids shouting. You pause in the doorway, taking in the empty space. Soon, it’ll be filled with noise— this time, for the Christmas party you’ve roped yourself into.

Walking deeper into the room, you wonder how much convincing it’ll take to get Negan up on a ladder to hang tinsel and string lights across the high ceiling. The hall is desperate for some holiday ambience and your brain aches as you try to figure out just how much tinsel will be needed.

Thankfully, your phone buzzes with a welcome distraction. 

Carol: You want to be a good samaritan and help me bake some cookies after school? Need them for the bake sale 

You: Have my hands full planning party 

You: but I could be tempted if I get to taste test some :D

After you informed everyone that you will be planning the party (and to hold off on the barrage of questions), Carol was the only one who didn’t give you a pitiful look when you mentioned it being you and Negan organizing it.

“Negan’s… complicated,” she told you this morning. Surprisingly, that was the most polite description of him you’ve heard.

“Just keep your distance, keep your head down and do the work” Carol listed “he’ll complain a lot but he will get the job done. Eventually”.

Given how much people seem to dislike him, hearing a neutral take felt like a welcome shift.

Carol: you’re starting to sound like my students

You let out a soft laugh before quickly typing a reply, letting her know you’re not sure if you’ll be finished with Negan by then. As much as you hate to admit it, you know how easily you two can fall into a back-and-forth, letting the time slip away without even realizing it.

Carol replies with a thumbs up, and to kill some time, you check the group chat. It’s been a while since you’ve looked at the new messages.

You don’t blame yourself though, not when it’s where you got yourself into this mess. It’s like returning to the scene of a crime but this time you know better than to hurriedly send in a text.

Gregory: WHO GOT THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS INSTALLATION VAN CLAMPED

Gregory: HOW? WHY?????

Sasha: I told you they shouldn’t park in designated spaces 

Rosita: they had their warning

Gregory: they want to school to pay the fee

Sasha: better than slashed tires

Gregory: go to principal Grime’s office , this needs to be sorted now

Rosita: I’m in the middle of teaching a class ??

Gregory: and you’re busy texting?!?!?!?

Gregory: both of you. Principal Grime’s office. NOW

A chuckle from behind makes you shiver and jerk away, hot breath fanning against the side of your neck. Negan peers over at your phone, having read the messages.

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation” he snorts, offering you a smirk as you tuck your phone away “can’t say I blame Rosita though, Gregory’s definitely the type of asshat that let them park there”.

“Yeah and you wanted me to talk to that asshat about getting this party cancelled” you grumble, irritation creeping into your tone

“In the past, sweetness,” Negan smiles just to annoy you “now we’re a team, ain’t we?”.

“In the past?! Negan, that was yesterday!” you point out exasperatedly, wandering around the hall to burn off some of your already pent up energy.

“And yesterday is in the past”.

You shoot him a glare but all that achieves is a wider grin looking back at you. Damn him. You run a hand down your face, forcing yourself to stop— both physically and mentally.

Negan’s trying to get you to bite, to start bickering with him so you’ll lose focus on the party and storm off. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. Unfortunately, when you open them again he still has that cocky smile on his face that makes you want to throttle him.

“Do you have any decorations from the previous years?” Your tone is sharper than necessary but that’s what he gets when he’s being a jerk.

“Usually, they’d host this shit at a fancy little place called the Kingdom, so we don’t have much” he replies, his demeanor easing now that you haven’t taken the bait.

“Really?” you question, expecting at least a worn down Christmas tree “What about things for a nativity or Christmas carols?”.

“Yeah cause nothing screams party like having the fuckin’ nativity scene laid out in the middle of the room” Negan teases, fishing keys out of the back pocket of his sweatpants.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you match his sarcasm with a dose of your own “Well, no, I’m not suggesting we all get drunk in front of baby Jesus”.

Negan lets out a small chuckle, but it sounds unfamiliar. This isn’t the mischievous laugh you heard when he tried to set you up, nor is it the smirk he gave you when you were badmouthing him.

No, this is something else. It’s a rare, genuine sound– a laugh that seems to catch even him off guard. And strangely enough, it’s aimed at you. You try not to linger on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

“If you wanna have a look yourself, knock yourself out” Negan strides over to the small storage room door and you follow behind as he unlocks it.

You stand there, waiting for him to open it but he doesn’t. Instead, Negan pauses for a moment, then he turns to face you with that familiar, smug grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, letting the question hang in the air.

“I— ugh! Negan!” you scold, stepping forward and pushing the door open yourself. Negan doesn’t stop you, even flicking the light on as you go first. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” Negan says, grabbing one of the boxes to prop the door open. “This shit’s old... probably as old as me, so the door’s heavy and a real bastard to yank open from the inside”.

Inside, you’re met with a chaotic mess; boxes piled on top of boxes, cones and rackets scattered across the floor, and a jumble of balls stacked on a rack against the wall.

Technically, the room is large but with all the clutter, there’s barely enough space to move around. Inching your way across a small clearing, you almost wedge yourself between two tall stacks of boxes. “Any idea which ones might have the festive goods?” you ask. 

“Pretty sure it’s the two at the back,” Negan trails after you, clearly uninterested “y’can usually see a bit of tinsel shimmering through the box”.

“This is a good start… I guess,” you try to take an optimistic approach “at least there’s something here”.

You carefully navigate through the maze of clutter, sidestepping loose javelins and dodging stray tennis balls. The mess makes every step feel like a mini obstacle course.

As you finally reach the last stack, you tug the lid off the nearest box, the dust tickling your nose. Peering inside, you slowly begin to sift through its contents—a jumble of tinsel, some baubles that have no string and a few random holiday knickknacks.

Negan leans against the next stack of boxes, arms crossed, watching you with mild amusement.

“Oh wow, you’re just going straight for it, huh?” he commentates, unbothered to help “it’s like you’re on a treasure hunt… y’know if you want to find the real treasure, you’re in luck”.

You don’t bite, not believing his bullshit. Even with no response, Negan continues “I know exactly where to find the crown jewels”. He gives you a wink but you miss it, keeping your head down as you rummage.

”… hellllllloooooo?” he pokes your side.

You pull out a handful of mismatched ornaments and toss them at him. “Maybe you should stop doing nothing and actually help?” you suggest as he barely manages to catch them.

With an exaggerated sigh, Negan starts to search the second box. “I was doing something,” he protests, carelessly looking through the box “flirting, if you didn’t notice”.

“Yeah, well if that’s your idea of flirting, I pray I’m not your type” you jeer.

This time, Negan doesn’t reply. You wonder if he’s taking a page out of your book and ignoring you but then you feel his eyes land on you. 

Readying your disapproving look, you turn to meet Negan’s gaze. “What?” you ask, already annoyed by whatever shenanigan he’s about to pull. 

With the ghost of a smirk, Negan simply stares at you for a moment. He doesn’t let his eyes wander like how you expected, the action something you thought he’d do just to get a rise out of you. Wetting his lips, Negan teasingly pulls his hand out of the box, bringing with it a tattered piece of mistletoe. 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out if you’re my type” he shakes the mistletoe, accidentally making one of the plastic leaves fall off.

“Oh fuck off” you don’t stop the words coming out of your mouth, turning on your heels to leave.

Flinging the mistletoe back into the box, Negan follows. You’re half tempted to kick the box that’s keeping the door open just to lock him in, but his long strides allow him to catch up with you in no time. 

“Awh, c’mon,” he teases “are you always in ‘teacher mode’ ?”.

“Only when I’m around immature people”.

“Very funny,” Negan comments as you storm back out to the empty hall. He can tell he’s almost got you; you’re so close to walking out, yet you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Negan knows how to push people’s buttons— it's one of his favorite hobbies. He enjoys testing how much people will tolerate, seeing what it takes to crack them. For some, a single remark is enough to make them fold, while others can take a whole barrage, letting it build up bit by bit. 

The most frustrating thing about you is that you can take a lot, all while throwing your own taunts right back at him. You rub your forehead, trying to will yourself into not punching him.

“You got any classes left today?” he breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly conversational considering the amount of teasing he’s been doing. 

Every question feels like a set up for some next lewd joke or suggestion and so you simply nod your head. 

“Perfect,” he says, locking up the storage room and tossing the keys up into the air before catching them “let’s go grab some new decorations”.

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but Negan doesn’t wait around. As he strolls out of the hall, you have to quicken your pace to keep up with him.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He glances over his shoulder, speaking to you as if you’re a three year old. “we go shop, buy new decorations, you happy, party less shit looking”.

“But don’t you have classes?” you badger him, watching as Negan makes a quick stop by his office. He drops the keys onto his desk, grabs his coat, and snatches up his car keys.

“Yeah, but Mark can cover for me,” he replies casually, clearly unfazed “it’s the bastard’s last day before his vacation, he can do some extra work”.

The last thing you expected was for Negan to suggest going on a quick trip together, especially with how little you two can tolerate each other. Negan lets out a short laugh when he sees your wary expression, clearly unconcerned. 

“He’ll figure it out,” he says nonchalantly, pulling out his phone to shoot a quick text to the other coach “it’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t give Fat Joey my class, don’t trust that fucker to teach gym”.

“Negan!” you slap his arm “Rude”.

He shrugs. 

The two of you walk out of the school and head toward the teacher’s parking lot. As you look around, a wave of hesitation hits you.

Even though you don’t have any more classes to teach today, you can’t shake the feeling that leaving early feels like you’re playing hooky.

Negan notices in an instant. With a small chuckle, he places both hands on your shoulders and gives you a gentle nudge forward.

“C’mon, Ms. Goody Two Shoes,” he teases, steering you toward his pick up truck “we won’t be gone long”.

You hesitate for a moment, still unsure. “Are you sure?” you try to look up at him as he directs you toward the passenger side “I don’t mind driving myself and meeting you there”.

“No need. I’ve got it covered,” he replies, taking his hands off you to open the door. With the automatic roll of your eyes, you get in.

The car ride to the store is a mix of awkward tension and playful banter. As Negan drives, he leans back in his seat with an easy confidence. Every now and then, he throws in a flirtatious comment but for the most part, he keeps it PG.

Surprisingly, Negan actually asked about you and why you’d move to “such a backend fuckin’ town”. You grabbed the opportunity to not argue or get flirted with and instead babbled on about why you needed a break away from your hometown (making sure to skip all the family rifts and drama). 

Pulling into the Target parking lot, the familiar smirk of the Negan you know resurfaces.

"I can always make time to give ya a real tour of the town," he says, and for a brief moment, you almost believe he's being sincere—until he adds, "With or without the extra stop at mine afterwards."

You let out an exaggerated sigh as he parks, shaking your head. "You're like a comedian that only knows one joke and no matter how many times it falls flat, you just keep saying it anyways".

Negan’s eyebrows bounce up as his truck comes to a stop, his tone dripping with cockiness “Oh it works real well, 99.9% success rate”.

“Wow, you’re just like bleach” you shoot back as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

Getting out of the truck and heading into the store, he proudly replies “All I have to say is I have been told I’m killer in the bedroom, so maybe I am like bleach”.

Shaking your head, you opt for a small basket instead of dragging around a massive cart. The last thing you need is Negan laughing as you struggle to control one of those things. 

“Do you have an off switch?” You taunt. 

Taking the basket off you, Negan’s fingers brush yours. He takes full advantage, tilting to the side so his tall frame is closer to your eye level.

Lowering his voice to what you can only assume is what he uses in the bedroom, he seductively growls “Wanna try to find it?”.

The look you give him says everything, and with a sharp ‘hmph ,’ you head toward the holiday section, letting him trail behind.

As you pass the Christmas trees, you glance at them, already knowing you’ll need to check your budget before committing to one for the party. This trip feels more like a reconnaissance mission—just picking up a few affordable things if you find them while scouting what else they have to offer.

Meanwhile, Negan simply drifts by, clearly bored now that the playful banter has faded. He’s like a kid that’s been dragged into grocery shopping with his mom—picking up random items and staring at the ceiling, hoping for some kind of entertainment. 

Negan would’ve spent his time staring at your ass but he knows better than to risk it. You’d throw a nutcracker at him if you caught him perving on you.

“ Neeeeeeegan ?” You drag out his name, watching the man completely zone out.

As much as you want to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t say you’re surprised. You both knew this was going to be a pain.

The only reason you’re party planning is out of spite, while Negan’s just here because he doesn’t want his sports hall to be trashed by either terrible decorations or the teachers on the night.  

Shaking the wreath in your hands, the bells jingle and you call out again “Negan? Hello?”.

Looking back to you, his expression softens just enough to pass as a real smile rather than a smirk. “I heard you the first time, I just like hearing you say my name,” he says, his tone playful.

You scoff, fighting the urge to smile. Unfortunately, you’re human so when a handsome man throws you a compliment, it’s impossible not to react, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he can be.

… handsome ?

You quickly shove that thought aside, irritated that your brain so easily confessed that. He is handsome, but… he’s Negan. An asshole, in other words.  

Alright, time to stop thinking about that.

“I, uh…” you swallow, trying to get your thoughts in order “The wreath! If we drape a tablecloth over the desks and put one of these in front of each, that’ll look nice, right?”

Negan gives a casual nod, eyes shifting between the wreath and the rows of holiday decorations.

“I mean, the desks are just for finger food and drinks anyways but… it’ll be festive!” you find yourself rambling, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. 

He scoffs at how you try to justify spending some money a on wreath, taking a few steps toward the sales section.

“How about…” Negan starts, picking up a small pumpkin statue priced at just a dollar, “…we buy a bunch of these and throw a Christmas hat on ‘em?”

You pause, unsure whether you should dignify that with a response.

“You want to use Halloween decorations?” you drop the wreath into the basket, rubbing a hand over your face in disbelief.

“I’m getting it” he puts the pumpkin next to your wreath.

You look down at the pumpkin and purse your lips. As if this party hasn’t been doomed from the get go, you don’t think having pumpkins there will help. You don’t have to voice your concerns, Negan can read your face. 

“Hey, I’m just offering a little direction,” he says, wandering down the aisle “someone’s gotta take charge when you’re doubting whether you should buy wreaths for a Christmas party”.

A flutter of defensiveness stirs within you, a shift in your chest that spreads like a warm yet  uncomfortable pressure.

Picking up a box of lights, you drop them in the basket “I’m not doubting, I just don’t want to buy junk that we won’t use”.

Negan stops, ignoring what you just said as he picks up some balloons. “We should get these… just gotta make sure this side is at the back” he lifts up the packet, showing you the gigantic ‘Happy 60th Birthday’ printing on the front of each balloon. 

“You’re kidding,” plucking the pack out of his hands, you put it back on the shelf “and I don’t need you to take charge of this, especially when you’re doing such a half assed job”. 

Negan scoffs “Am not”.

The more you try to ignore the building in your chest, the more it festers, growing into a quiet but insistent urge to clarify, to defend and correct the narrative.

“That’s all you do! You want to be in charge but you’re not thorough enough whenever you are” you explain as calmly as you can. 

There was a small bit of you that hoped Negan would listen to what you’re saying but he’s not interested in the feedback, waving his free hand dismissively as he walks back up the aisle.

“It’s easier when I’m in charge because I get shit done, I don’t try to reason with myself why I need to buy something– I just do it,” as if to prove the point, he puts another pumpkin into the basket.

It's like he’s not even trying to understand your point, and that’s a realization that makes your patience unravel.

The calm concern starts to fade and is replaced by a barely contained annoyance. 

“But you don’t try to make things easier for others, you literally just left Mark to deal with the rest of your classes for the day and complained at the idea of Mark letting Joey help! You’re always pushing your own agenda and railroading people into going along with it” taking a firm stance against him, you do the unthinkable. 

You reach your hand into the basket.

And remove a pumpkin.

Negan gives you a pointed look, boring into your skull and not even watching your hand place the pumpkin back on the shelf.

“Sweetheart, calm down, this isn’t a military operation,” he asserts “we’re just planning a damn party so lighten up. Get festive!”.

It’s maddening. Now you’re making a mountain out of a molehill? You should just lighten up because it’s a Christmas party and nothing more?

His dismissive tone is like a constant poke to your patience, stretching it thinner with every passing moment.  To make matters worse, Negan carries on like usual, wandering over to the next aisle.

Begrudgingly, you totter after him.

“You can’t just do that!” you snap, absentmindedly perusing the scented candles “you can’t act like this is something silly when I’m giving you valid criticism! I’m trying to put in effort here and actually make this party bearable”. 

It hits all at once, a rush of raw emotion that floods your mind and spills out before you can stop it.

Your voice shakes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming need to be heard. You don’t even have time to think, to carefully choose your words; it all comes out, unfiltered.

Every bit of irritation, confusion, and disbelief tumbling out in one breathless rant.  

“All you want to do is skip school, wander around here, flirt with me– even though I keep rejecting you! And just buy stupid shit that we don’t need for this party!” you rant, gesturing to the lonely pumpkin still in the basket.

“You have to respect other people’s time and their effort too. Not everyone wants to half-ass this! You get your own way all the time and no one will say no to you or make you do it their way. It’s Negan’s way or no way. And people are so used to letting you get away with shit again and again just because—“.

You stop yourself.

Your mouth clamps shut, stopping your cathartic rant before it can say anymore but it’s too late. Negan stands next to you, waiting.

Shit.

“… I like the cinnamon one,” you say quietly, trying to change the subject as you sniff the candles  “sometimes, I think they make the gingerbread ones too strong and the ones that are supposed to smell like vanilla never do”.

Negan doesn’t budge. A small smirk creeps up on his face. Negan already knows what you were going to say, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him.

He’s attractive, good in the sac, can charm the legs off anyone within a ten mile radius and happens to have one swoon worthy smile.

He gets away with this because he’s sexy. Nothing he can do about that, it’s natural!

“Go on,” he implores, tongue peeking out as he wets his bottom lip “say it with your chest, doll”.

You want to stay quiet. You know for the interest of everyone, you should. 

“People let you be an asshole because your wife died”.

You’ve never seen a change in someone so quick. His face darkens, veins pulsing at his temples as his jaw clenches so tight that his teeth almost grind together.

Negan’s eyes narrow into a hard, unforgiving stare. Every muscle in his body seems to coil, as if ready to snap. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” he grunts. 

You’ve never seen him like this— not even when you’ve bickered with him. This is something different, something deeper.

His entire demeanor has shifted, like a switch was flipped, and all the previous irritation and taunting have been replaced by a quiet, seething fury that radiates from him in waves.

Your fingers curl around the candle but you barely register the sensation. Your eyes lock on him, wide and unblinking. He told you to say it, to be honest with him. 

Every muscle in your body feels frozen, as if something inside you has short-circuited. You’ve always thought you’d know what you’d do in a moment like this, whether you’d be a flight or fight type of person. But now, facing a full wave of intimidation, you realize the truth: you’re not the fight type. You’re not the flight type. 

You’re the freeze type.

It’s as if the air around you has thickened, the space between you and him narrowing to a suffocating stillness. You want to stutter out an apology but it’s all happened so suddenly that you forget how to. 

It feels like all you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot. In an instant, he snaps out of his silent rage and rushes into action. 

Without warning, Negan lets go of the shopping basket, letting it drop to the ground with a violent clatter. The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot and you jump.

His hands are still clenched into fists as he takes a step back and his eyes flash one last time at you with an unreadable mix of frustration and something deeper.  And then, he spins on his heel and storms off.

“Fuck this,” you hear muttered under his breath as he goes. 

You’re left standing there, the abruptness of it all taking the air from your lungs. Your legs take jittery steps forward before you meekly grab the basket and try to follow. 

With only a pumpkin, some lights and a wreath inside, the basket somehow pulls at your arms, as if you’re carrying a thousand things. Trying to follow, the basket swings awkwardly in your grasp, banging against your shins with each uncoordinated step.

“Negan?” You call out, your voice sounding smaller than you mean it to. Your gaze darts nervously from aisle to aisle and across the registers until you spot a tall and imposing shadow going out the main doors.

“No, no, no, no, no,” your heart thuds painfully against your chest, each beat louder than the last.

You set the basket down gently, almost afraid it might shatter if you move too quickly, before rushing out of the store. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s no relief. This can’t be happening. He can’t just leave you here. Not like this.

You move fast, almost stumbling, your eyes scanning the parking lot frantically. Cars of every make and model line the pavement, but there’s no sign of his truck.

A pang of panic rises in your throat as you take a few more steps, searching the sea of vehicles, your stomach tightening with every second that passes. His truck should be here. It should’ve been parked right where you left it.

The realization hits you like a wave. It’s not here.

A soft whine escapes your lips, barely a sound and yet it carries the weight of everything that’s suffocating you in that moment. Confusion. Anxiety. Guilt. And an overwhelming sense of abandonment. You stand frozen, the noise of the parking lot fading as the panic surges again. 

He’s gone.

-------

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

[the-impulse-to-love]

"emergence" and the teeth of god novel

my brain keeps thinking of emergence specifically in terms of the graphic novel so bam. analysis post idk

this is solely gonna focus on looking at it through the teeth of god... i'll post other theories and ideas in a separate post if i get to it

teeth of god spoilers ofc ↓

also heads up not gonna analyze Every Single Line since some of them don't really have Immediate Connections to the graphic novel...

i have a feeling we're close to the end

in the third director's note, he states that "In these final dimming days I know only the solace of a promised end" and goes on to express his desire to "barter one last time with the tangled threads of fate" before going out to directly see the anomaly in the last chapter.

in his first note, he also explains how he dreams of a giant black wave "sweeping forth to herald the end of everything." we see this wave in the last chapter (albeit in his mind/not in reality) as the god mother (tmbte creature) greets him and embraces him as they sink beneath the waves (and he gets transformed in reality).

come on, come on, out from underneath from who you were

in ToG, we know that some of humanity "retreated down into the ground," building an underground facility to take shelter from the anomaly. this is in a more literal sense of course.

the people in the novel were Normal. they're like us -- they are shown to have jobs, go to pubs n whatnot, teach in and attend schools, and more. but then that's all contrasted by the aftermath of the anomaly which shows everything as a hollow husk of sorts, devoid of humanity. the director is shown to specifically lament this: "The ones who survived are those who spat their hubris and hid desperately down in the mud like rats," feeling guilty and ashamed for being forced to retreat underground in the wake of disaster.

as such w/ this idea, "underneath from who you were" would be something like "cornered and without everything that makes you human, emerge" (tying into the next lyric)

you know that it’s time to emerge

to me, this almost reads like the singer (not even sure if lore wise it’d be vessel) beckoning the recipient to emerge and awaken… almost like a twisted lullaby w/ the way he sings it. (like, it feels so warming and accepting almost.) and we all know that the director specifically referred to the the moon incident as the “emergence of the lunar anomaly,” so surely that Has to be relevant especially given the release on the blood moon

one theory i’m p sure exists is that the lunar anomaly is sleep itself. but what if it’s a creation of sleep sewn into the moon + destined to destroy the world and cause eternal silence? sleep as an actual concept is long associated with peace and quiet, so i feel like a deity named sleep wanting everyone to be utterly silent through death/transformation (into the bug guys) isn’t too out of the question. i keep envisioning it as Something beckoning the lunar anomaly to emerge, basically. for what purposes? no idea...

but also, "emerge" can refer to other things. perhaps it's some kinda force (lunar anomaly, sleep, god mother) calling to another (the director or the other people) to "emerge" from down below and accept their fate. this would also tie into "underneath from who you were" in a literal sense.

go ahead and wrap your arms around me

this could be the funky space tentacles/vines. at the end of the gn, the moon envelops the earth with its space tentacles, “wrap[ing]” them “around” the latter.

as to what this would frame the singer of this specific part as, not too sure. off the top of my head w/ this theory, the literal earth would be the one asking. but on a more smaller scale, i feel like it could also be the director or other characters. the vines are shown to emerge from them and take over their bodies, so you could say they're being "wrapped" around them.

it could also be related to the director being pulled beneath the waves by the god mother, as they embrace while doing so.

burst out of my chest and hide out in the vents

asides from the alien reference, there are instances in which tentacles have burst out of people's chest (the director, nameless soldier) in the graphic novel. dunno if they're in the vents, however.

it's midnight in my mind’s eye, drowning out the daylight

something something lunar anomaly. also, "to gaze upon the moon is to die" -- we saw this with the soldier (roy i believe?) in chapter one when we was forced to look at the moon per the blindfolded people. the way it is drawn specifically focuses on One Eyeball as well.

"drowning out the daylight" is pretty self explanatory i think... i mean, the moon just consumes the earth so it'd be pretty hard to get sunlight, yk?

you know the behavior, canines of the saviour

one of the More Direct Things. obviously referring to the teeth of god, but also to the themes of jaws/biting in sleep token's songs. in the end, the director repeatedly writes "i am the teeth of god," in which god can be equivocated to "saviour" (esp in regards to stuff like christianity).

and then there's also what vessel said about the usage of jaws: "Jaws are the tools we have to rend apart. To show our concealed aggression. To take something once hidden and protected, and burst it apart. You know no one until you have seen them destroy something." (i think the whole teeth of god theme deserves its own post tho ngl)

"you know the behaviour" could be referring to Higher Entity (sleep, god mother, lunar anomaly, etc) that is familiar with destruction (metaphorical or literal) caused by the usage of "jaws," or teeth/canines. they know it personally, as they've been the cause of it. conversely, it could be referring to a Lower Entity (director, other soldiers, vessel) either doing the same or being on the receiving end of said destruction.

it's the last step in the universe and you're well versed in the afterlife

"it's the last step in the universe" presents itself very interestingly in terms of the graphic novel. to me, what if this means earth is the final victim of the anomaly? probably a reach, but what if the anomaly had devoured other planets/worlds prior to earth and earth was the last thing to be conquered?

"and you're well versed in the afterlife" while one of my New Favorite Sleep Token Lines, makes me wonder what "afterlife" refers to w/ the novel. i'm thinking it could be life after being transformed into the Flying Bug Guys, a metaphorical death and rebirth perhaps. whoever "you" in this instance is would be familiar with this. i feel like whatever/whoever is specifically driving the anomaly/turning everyone into Flying Bug Guys would be the "you" here, as they'd be "well versed" in seeing the re-emergence of the Flying Bug Guys.

you know that I’m sanctified by what’s below

similar point to "underneath from who you were," assuming the pov of the director, "what's below" could refer to the remnants of humanity underground. he's "sanctified" (purified, cleansed, etc) by what little bit of humanity is left -- he's reminded to fight till the end for their own pride and nature (until they all die. Lmao).

you might be the one to take away the pain and make my mind go quiet

quiet, huh... in the director's crashout (chapter 4 notes) he mentions how "paradise was empty without us there was only silence our blood made the flowers grow" (among other lore filled ramblings). i just wonder, is it quiet in a good way or a bad way? like, are we talking about quiet in a peaceful way or in a lonely way? or even in a dead way? perhaps the pain ends when the people get transformed into Flying Bug Guys, as we don't really know if they're even Really Fully Alive post transformation. maybe they're hiveminded or smth an Can't Think Properly.

--

okay yeah that's all... interested to hear if anyone has other connections tho :::3

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

Screenshot from that moment of "Nowhere is safe if it's with you." Which pairs with this chapter having his anxiety around thinking Megs wants to kick his aft really peaks. Also Megatrons confused friggin face in response.

The nature of this chapter is quite funky. A lot of it has interior meaning where you can't always take things at face value. It has some wholesomeness that rapidly devolves into sussy bs. Might even get a glimpse of the lingering antagonist of this theoretical season, who knows. Also a smidge of the background human drama the other bots are dealing with.

Previous Chapter: Family Feud

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Obligation

Chapter 12: Make or Break

“Just stay where I can see you, alright? The kids and I are gonna be doing some training over there.” Bumblebee gestured back towards a clearing littered with crates, what looked like dehydrated cylinders of some type of shredded flora, and an assortment of tires; which seemed to be arranged in some sort of obstacle course. 

Starscream ducked out of the barn, keeping a close optic on the bug’s movements while stealing a glance at his surroundings. Upon gaining full access to the outdoors again, distancing himself from the structure, he fully flexed his wings and stretched. The stifling atmosphere of underground constructions was something he could do without.

Bumblebee shot a digit up to point at him with squinted optics, “Don’t you think I’ll be too distracted to notice you trying anything.”

An extremely weak attempt at a threat. The scout did not possess optics on the back of his helm. There was no way he could possibly watch Starscream every nano-klik while surrounded by sparklings. 

Starscream rolled his optics and put his servos on his hips, then leaned down at face level to the bug with a smirk. “I would never dare assume such a thing.”

Bumblebee shoved Starscream’s faceplate away with a roll of his entire helm as he turned and scoffed, “Yeah, like I believe that, con man.”

“Tsk, you wound me.” Starscream crooned. Primus how he missed banter like this. The scout could be insufferable, but at least he was entertaining. 

“Uh-huh. Just stay out of trouble will ya? I can’t be attached to your ped 24/7. ‘Sides, that’s what Wheeljack’s little thing ya got is for.” Bumblebee gave his own challenging grin with a gesture down at Starscream's ped accessory. Whether the statement was purely meant as a play on words, or actually held some sort of double meaning towards the device’s functioning, was difficult to determine.

“Hm, what could I possibly do…” Starscream tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “That tank of propane looks promising. Perhaps I could see how sturdy its containment is–right next to the human’s little residence.”

“Primus Starscream. You’d better not be that stupid.” Bumblebee turned to leave him be with a toss of his servo.

“I was obviously joking.” Starscream crossed his arms and his wings tipped down in a twinge of annoyance. The scout should be better at picking up sarcasm than that. It was actually rather disappointing. He paced closer to the edge of the fence as he watched Bumblebee meet with the others. Surely an examination of the perimeter would be permissible. 

Starscream took his time exploring every centihic of the surrounding area within view of the bug. He didn’t need them accusing him if that blasted tank did decide to spontaneously combust. They were surrounded by an extended range of stalky perennials, with one road leading away from the residence, and a train track over the slight hill. The humans were cultivating an odd array of fuel, one variety sprouting from a particular species of those stalky perennials, while simultaneously managing a herd of lower class organic creatures. 

He knelt by the fence containing them, and one stared at him. Starscream stared back. It looked stupid, and broke focus to gnaw on the ground dully. What purpose could these things serve? Would they not only become a resource garbage chute? Although he supposed some creatures he had studied in the past did refuel by consuming other beings. Perhaps instead of hunting, the humans decided to imprison them. A disgusting disrespect to the natural order of their planet’s formation. 

A part of him felt sorry for the beast. It clearly knew nothing larger than this pitiful block of land. Nothing of what fate could befall it, or what life it could lead outside of its walls. Only living in complacent ignorance. 

Starscream carefully reached over and picked it up, intent on freeing it from its cage. Surely those humans wouldn’t miss one or two of these things. Unfortunately, the creature’s liberation was thwarted by that damn bug barking at him.

“Leave the cow alone, Screamer!” Bumblebee called from across the field. When Starscream paused with the cow hovering in the air giving weak little kicks, the scout pointed a digit and dropped his tone to be more stern. “Drop it. Find something better to do than terrorizing cows.”

Starscream growled out a sigh as he lowered the beast back into its cell. He gestured flatly at it to the bug with half lidded, annoyed optics. Of course the Autobots would be opposed to a bit of minuscule revolution. Yet another example of those bot’s hypocrisy as they preach their ever expansive empathy. The cow ran off as if it too disapproved. It clearly didn’t know any better. 

Since apparently fraternizing with the present wildlife was in the forbidden category, Starscream opted to redirect his focus to scouting out the possible escape routes. The road could be a useful means of keeping track of his position if he were to follow it, but that’s exactly the trail the Autobots would take. He rounded the edge of the forest to hover on the hill overseeing the train tracks. He might be able to discreetly hitch a ride on one of those, which would grant him a good deal of distance. As well as make it difficult for them to determine at what point he got off. 

Starscream glanced back at the bug, and leaned casually against one of those stalky perennials surrounding the place. That rudimentary obstacle course seemed to be entertaining the children well enough, although he wouldn’t be so bold as to call it “training”. Bumblebee only seemed to be giving them useless words of encouragement or soft sparked notes on their performance. They must be preparing for some other ridiculous game inspired by their human companions. Nothing about whatever it was they’d cobbled together would prepare them for a war. It was a wonder the children turned out as well as they did. 

Suddenly, he heard heavy propellers shake his audials. He turned his attention to the sky to see Megatron lowering in front of the Malto’s primary residence. Starscream’s optics narrowed, before widening in alarm. Why was that slagger here? Of course he was! Starscream knew it was only a matter of time. It was a miracle the buckethead hadn’t slagged him to the Pit the first day! Perhaps he’d simply wanted to wait until a sufficient amount of time had passed since his previous injuries…

When Megatron landed, Dorothy exited his hull before he transformed back into a mech, yet remained knelt before his little agent. Scrap. What could she be reporting to him? Starscream doubted anything good. It was never anything good. Sure, he hadn’t exactly done anything catastrophic yet, recently…but that hardly ever seemed to matter. 

Starscream fumbled against the branches of those blasted overgrown twigs as his peds began backing him into them. His focus was locked on the warlord, even as he made a painfully sharp in-vent from his clumsiness. Then their optics met.

And he ran.

***

Meetings with those entitled, over blown human executives was always like grinding his processor through a compactor. Megatron was more than happy to let Optimus do all the suck up business. Having Dorothy by his side through it all was truly the only reason he was able to stay sane, and somewhat hopeful as he kept the terrans in mind. 

Of course the human government would have questions about what happened with G.H.O.S.T., or the trouble with the Quintessons. But hadn’t Schloder already explained it all? Instead, after all this time, there still was that ever lingering distrust towards cybertronians. With apparently some conspiracy around them aiming to usurp the human’s government spreading around their internet. It really will never change, will it? At most, he could hope that such allegations will never fall upon the kids’ shoulders…

“They’re just uptight big shots that are insecure about their ranks, don’t let ‘em get under your plating Megs.” Dorothy advised from within his hull as they were making the flight back to her home. 

Megatron growled out a sigh as he tried to shake his lingering rage at the ordeal. “Regardless, it does not give them the right to threaten eviction from our base over their baseless accusations.”

“I know. But we won’t let it get that far. Agent Schloder and I have been working on constructing a better organization that will be what G.H.O.S.T was supposed to. If we all work together as a team this time around, I’m sure it’ll be better.”

“Only time will tell, I suppose. I will give you my confidence, Dorothy, even if I cannot be as optimistic as Optimus.”

Dorothy scoffed a laugh, “I’d never expect you to be, Megs. No one can beat that bot’s ridiculous sense of delegation. He just wants to baby talk and social media his way through this biz and that just ain’t gonna cut it. We get that. But y’know, our two sides of dealing with this mess also complement one another.”

“Ah yes, teamwork. Heh.”

Dorothy knocked on the interior metal beside her affectionately, “You know it! We gotta hit ‘em from all sides! Give ‘em no way of gettin’ the jump on us with their dumb wall of red string they’re tryna wrap us up in.”

Megatron chuckled at her enthusiasm. It was often quite infectious. “I did always enjoy a good crushing tactic of the sort. If they think they will be the ones backing us against a wall, they’ll be sorely mistaken.” They reached their destination and he made certain to avoid the other vehicles in the driveway as he landed. He opened the hatch to let her out, then switched out of his alt mode with a servo set on his knee. 

Dorothy patted his ped reassuringly, “Exactly. Now all we have to worry about is a certain con stirring up more trouble for us to clean up.”

Megatron’s expression fell. “Starscream. Has he behaved himself this past week?”

Dorothy shrugged with crossed arms, and looked unsure. “Decently enough. He actually seems to be…trying, in his own way. Although he did get a bit heated over Uno.” She dropped her arms again with a slight shake of her head and an amused grin. “I can’t exactly blame him for that–” she straightened to a more serious tone again and held a digit in the air firmly– “but he did grab Bee, which worried us for a moment before he let go. I definitely see what you were talking about with those strange surges. It’s difficult to determine what exactly triggers them. The kids said he had one the first day just out of the blue, and he blamed Bee for it, but they weren’t sure what he’d even done. Then there was another moment during Pictionary when he’d said “Transformers”...” She shuddered. “It was weird, Megs. I don’t know a better way of describing it. Like, it wasn’t exactly his voice for a moment, and he looked all disconnected or something… It doesn’t seem like it’s just tied to his anger. It makes me uneasy not knowing what is going on with whatever that is… But. Still. I’m sure we can handle it.”

Megatron paused for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. You are wise to be wary. We can’t be sure what exactly happened when he linked himself with the corrupted Emberstone, or what happened all that time while he was in the Titan. Unfortunately, I do not imagine he would take the prospect of testing well. So it seems the best we can do is keep him under control and monitor the surges. I trust you will continue to keep me updated. Remember, I am only a comm away.”

Dorothy smiled more genuinely up at him as he slowly rose to his full height, “Yes, yes, I know. I’ll keep in touch.”

Megatron smiled thankfully back at her, until his focus became distracted by the feeling that someone was watching him. His gaze drifted towards Bumblebee and the kids, before locking onto Starscream, who was standing just on the edge of the forest on the hill. Upon making optic contact, the seeker abruptly jerked backwards and darted into the woods like one of those skittish deer creatures at the sight of a predator. Quite a dramatic reaction. Megatron’s optics narrowed and he began walking towards where his former second had fled.

Dorothy followed his gaze and asked, “What is it?”

“Starscream ran off into the woods, alone. I will go after him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t have any plans of escaping, or whatever it is he’s thinking he’ll accomplish by simply running off like that.”

Dorothy put a servo to her hip. “Hm. Alright, be careful then.”

Megatron scoffed, “Careful? I know how to deal with him. I doubt even with this new power that he could be that much trouble for me to handle.”

Bumblebee noticed Megatron approaching them, then looked behind him and noticed the seeker’s absence as well, looking startled. He assured the kids not to worry and ran over to meet Megatron near where Starscream had vanished. “I assume you got this one? Or we could–”

“I’ll handle it.” 

“Ookay…” Bumblebee backed off, “Gotcha. Have fun kicking his aft solo.”

Megatron lowered his optical ridges at that comment, and gave the scout a momentary glare. Bumblebee only shrugged and made his way back to the terrans. Megatron wasn’t entirely sure why the statement bothered him. After all, it did often become necessary to use force when it came to the seeker. Yet this time, he actually had the initial thought that he’d only accompany Starscream to serve as a chaperone. Optimus had wanted him to get more of those nature walks the Prime loved so much, anyway. It only bothered Megatron that Starscream would be unsupervised. A show of firepower wouldn’t be necessary, unless the flighty mech decided to make it so.

Megatron tapped into his Decepticon coding channel to pinpoint Starscream’s tracking signal. As he made his way through the trees, he attempted to be careful, but the damn things were always far too close together. Stealth was never his forte, which seldom mattered, although it did make it inconvenient at the moment as he had to catch a second tree from shattering another. He needed to be swift to catch Starscream, yet the clever bastard picked just the terran to slow him down.

Once he found a sufficient enough clearing to transform, he took to the sky. With Starscream’s own wings clipped, Megatron could easily cut him off from the air. Once he was right on top of the signal, he boosted a few hics ahead before transforming mid-air to land heavily in front of the seeker. Crushing yet another of those twigs in the process, perhaps he should get some training navigating these things some time…

Starscream, well, screamed. An annoyingly shrill shriek that would never cease to irk Megatron’s audials no matter how many times he heard it. His former second raised his arm that typically held his null ray reactively as well. It was absurd that he still had the instinct to do such a thing. He knew null rays were ineffective against Megatron’s plating, yet always tried uselessly regardless. It was almost amusing, if it wasn’t equally pathetic to see the panic on the seeker’s faceplate upon the recognition that he was disarmed. Then he only stared silently as if he were frozen on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Megatron inquired flatly, although with genuine curiosity. He moved his canon clad servo vaguely at him, which caused Starscream’s optics to shoot between his and the weapon.

Starscream still didn’t speak. For being so loud at the start, he always loved to shut up at the most aggravating times. It was a simple question. What could have possibly caused him to react so ridiculously? Megatron’s fusion cannon clearly wasn’t aimed in any threatening manner. 

Megatron rolled his optics as the lingering frustration of the day's events seeped into his posture, and he took a step forward that shook the earth beneath his ped. “I am not talking in riddles, Starscream. Answer me.”

A minor surge started as red lightning began flicking from the seeker’s frame, although his optics seemed to fight the crimson force. Starscream stood and stumbled against the tree behind him as he tried to back away. “Stay ba-AAH!” The bark broke and sent him falling back in tandem with the log.

Megatron’s optics narrowed. He continued to advance despite Starscream’s demand, and reached down to pull him up from the bush. All he got was a rude smack across the servo with a buzz saw.

***

Starscream was running as fast as he possibly could. Although still made note to avoid leaving obvious evidence of his direction, also tossing broken twigs in an attempt to create a false trail. Even as he tried to retain some form of his tactical processor, he couldn’t think of anything else beside his need to move. Memories and predictions were rapidly flashing through his optics. He tripped over a scraggly lump of flora and cursed as he scrambled to his peds again to continue forward.

It would be far easier to gain ground if he didn’t have that blasted device locked to his ped! If he tried to fly away with only his thrusters, he’d be quickly spotted and not nearly aerodynamic enough to properly maneuver out of the way of incoming fire. Starscream didn’t have the time to try and pry the damn thing off. So apparently, the best he could do was dodge through the terrain and hope by some mercy of Primus that he’d be granted some luck for once.

He was easily still skilled enough to sleekly slip past any obstacle. He’d fold his wings back, down, or flare them out to narrow himself at his side. He might not be as nimble as Skywarp, but he had arguably more experience with such things. His processor was on overdrive as his vents struggled to keep up with him. Starscream’s focus was so tunnel visioned on the path ahead that he couldn’t take a single nano-klik to consider anything else besides what laid before him. 

Megatron was surely after him. He had to be. Bumblebee would be angry with him. That won’t matter. He could live with that. If he managed to live at all if he got caught.

He wouldn’t. It’d be fine. Starscream is far faster than Megatron’s ever been. He just needed to not stop. Keep running. Dodge the branch, jump the next rock, slide between the next choke point. He’d get somewhere eventually. As long as it was far away from Megatron.

He heard those blasted propellers again from the buckethead’s stupid earth alt mode. No. He couldn’t possibly have found him already. There was no way he knew what his position was as the tops of the larger perennials shielded him from aerial view. Right? Starscream just needed to be quiet, not shake any of the brush to alert his pursuer. Speed wouldn’t matter anymore with that slagger hovering over him.

Yet even as he’d been carefully stepping through the branches with such precision that not even his joints dared make a sound–Megatron shot down from the sky so violently that his peds vertically crushed one of the perennials that’d dared to stand in his way. The force of the warlord’s descent knocked Starscream backwards with a rather indignant yelp. His helm hit against the stalky twig behind him and his optics shuttered. Without thinking, he attempted to blast the offending mech, but of course his null ray had been confiscated. It’d only been meant to serve as a warning shot–but he couldn’t even focus enough to see if his other blasters were operational. None of it would do anything against Megatron, anyway. 

Megatron demanded something of him with a nod of his fusion cannon that made Starscream squirm, despite feeling as if he was in stasis lock. Was he going to shoot? Did he want him to get up? Starscream couldn’t take his optics off the cannon, and barely recognized that he had brought his servo up defensively in anticipation of an attack.

Megatron spoke again in his booming vocalizer that wrenched Starscream from his frozen state, as the two words “Answer me” came in far too clearly like a dagger through his audials. The order was horrifically pared by the thud of the warlord’s advance towards him. Starscream in-vented sharply, and tried frantically to back away as his vision glitched. “S-stay ba-AAH!” The stupid twig betrayed him, and left him crumpled in a painfully precarious position before Megatron, as the buckethead of course disregarded his statement. Why would what Starscream wanted ever matter? His wings and servos shook as the corrupted power grew and burned like an unstable reaction ready to burst from his cockpit.

Megatron was looming over him so that his shadow could further pin Starscream against the foliage. Then, a servo began reaching for him, and he felt as if his spark was trying to leave him too. Starscream transformed out his buzz saw and wacked it across the offending digits. He scrambled backwards with rapid kicks of his peds as he waved his weapon threateningly. “Stay back!” He reiterated firmly with a wretched squeak to his vocalizer. 

Megatron’s fist clenched and he took another step closer. “I’m trying to help you. Is it that difficult to take my servo you stubborn fool?”

Help?? That was the most obvious lie the mech has ever allowed to leave his intake. Starscream may be stubborn, but he was certainly not foolish enough to brazenly surrender his servo to an enemy. If that even was Megatron’s intention. The brute would surely drag Starscream from the ground by an arm or wing before any such softer gesture would cross his processor. 

Starscream glared and revved his saw as a warning. He refused to take his optics off of Megatron, using his other servo to stabilize himself on a nearby rock as he stood. The crimson power invaded his transformed servo, and sped its function to an uncomfortable level as it began launching lightning toward the buckethead. Alright then. It actually seemed to make Megatron stumble as it connected with his frame. Maybe it could be useful this time.

“Why must you always make things so difficult?” Megatron charged his cannon and fired a pinpointed blast straight at Starscream’s overcharged blade in response. 

His saw was left to be slung across the ground in a crumpled lump of slag as he struggled to transform back out his servo. Sparks sputtered from his damaged limb, and he hit his working servo against it uselessly. Scrap! Well…perhaps he could still use it like some fragged up blaster with the chaos power still active. 

Starscream aimed and shot a more concentrated, charged blast that made Megatron stumbled backwards. “I am not the one making it difficult!” He yelled and focused his attack on the fusion cannon as the mech attempted to pull it up for another shot. “All you have to do is leave me alone! I am not staying here for whatever twisted purpose you have planned!”

“What??” Megatron actually sounded outright thrown by this as he held his arms crossed to block the volley of fire. “What are you going on about?!”

“Don’t feign ignorance with me Megatron! What is it you want from me now?! You were never satisfied when I was your second in command, it never mattered what I did! Whether I did everything you asked, or challenged you, it was the same. Now, you still are seeking to make me into whatever slagged up puppet you have in your processor! So WHAT IS IT?!” The power rose and the device on his ped made him stumble as it disrupted his motor functions. “Why else would you keep me online now?!”

“I only wish for you to be better.” Megatron urged earnestly as he knocked away another blast and attempted to get closer.

“BETTER?!” Starscream shrieked, then began to laugh maniacally. “Oh yes, THANK YOU for that clarification! That explains everything! Except the fact that nothing I do or ever did will manage to meet your standards. What are they this time? What could I POSSIBLY become for it to be enough for you?!”

The corrupted power felt like it was scorching his interior components as it increased in strength to a point that the next blast nearly made Megatron fall over. He couldn’t turn it off. He just needed Megatron to be gone. His stabilizing servos were just about useless as the device sent another pulse through his frame, but he managed to force himself somewhat upright against the rock. His vision was now fully glazed in red light and his optics burned. 

His aim began to suffer until Meridian’s disgusting voice swam through his processor. “Shoot him. You want that wretched mech purged from the Earth just as much as I, don’t you?” Those last, crooning words strung static through his servos like a magnet pulling them into action.

Starscream’s optic twitched, but he couldn’t bring himself to shake his dizzied helm. He growled and his wings flicked back as his chassis forcefully straightened itself again. Why did that fragging human continue to plague his processor? Starscream didn’t need that pest telling him what to do.

Megatron actually dodged the next shot that came his way, “Can we not just talk without the theatrics?! Perhaps I could–” Then he blocked the next, and planted his peds which slid backwards with a cut across the dirt from the force– “Ugh, I suppose I don’t have an answer that would be–” Another strike– “satisfying. But right–” Again– “now I just want you to be able to work with us, instead of–” Again– “continuing to cause more–” And again– “trouble for yourself.”

“I suppose you think it is all my fault as usual.” Starscream ground out the statement with considerable effort.

Meridian added his own pathetic opinion oh so helpfully. “All you Transformers know how to do is destroy everything around you. You really think any of you are capable of doing anything less? Relationships are far too human for you.”

“Oh shut up–”

“Just shoot. It’s what you’re made for after all.”

“No one asked you.” Yet Starscream couldn’t stop himself from doing just that. 

Megatron had apparently acquired a meager shield from a shard of the fallen perennial. “All you need to do is stop fighting me! You may have the right to place blame upon me, just as the others did. But this petty bitterness for whatever I did to make you feel this way, does nothing to help us now.” 

Starscream’s attention snapped back towards the buckethead as his optics attempted to focus on his shadowed silhouette. Oh slag. Not again. 

His faceplate twisted into a sick grin, “Oh I think it’s doing wonders, actually! You can’t even get close!” The chaotic force shot more energy into where his servo should be and blasted forth an intense, continuous laser that shattered Megatron’s twiggish defenses. Starscream distantly heard himself laugh. “Look at how the mighty Lord Megatron cowers before the lowly Starscream! Even as your pathetic device attempts to disable me! How does it feel to be the powerless one?! The day I stop fighting you, is the day I go offline–but you’d rather keep me around as your functioning punching bag!”

Megatron maneuvered out of the line of fire, his plating scorched and dented. When Starscream realigned his aim, he shot his fusion cannon in a counter attack. The two forces colliding erupted into a violent explosion, with an equally intense recoil.  

Starscream’s helm was now against the dirt and his optics were struggling to clear the white that continued to blind him. His arm wasn’t responding to him anymore to resume an attack. His audials were ringing. His spark burned. He wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

Although some part of his processor must have, as he was saying something else to Megatron as the buckethead added some slag of his own. Starscream's spare servo moved, and he assumed he’d used it to do…something. He had to. He couldn’t let Megatron win. But slagger always did. 

There was a lapse in time as Starscream felt numb, despite the fact that he was still moving, if a bit clumsily. He’d continue to squabble with the mech, until a final surge encouraged the device on his ped to release its final EMP that knocked him out. Why had it only finally managed to do so now? What had happened? Shouldn’t it have done that during…

He couldn’t remember. 

It did do something before, didn’t it? He was sure it did. 

This must be the fault of Quintus’ slagging curse. And Megatron for showing his stupid fragging faceplate in the first place. Why couldn’t he do anything without that glitch looming over him? He should have played it off better. He’d forgotten the foolish mech was attempting to be some sort of twisted Autobot. He should have played into that. Not run off without a plan.

Why had he thought Megatron was there to destroy him again? The fool had spoken against violence as a means of solving one’s problems in favor of his newly branded superiority complex–ah but he supposed he knew such a promise couldn’t be trusted. That must have been it. 

But he still couldn’t quite remember…

[sugarpasteltmnt]

I've been compleatly OBSSESED with neon void so far!!! It's by far my favorite fic of any I've read!! After every chapter I have to take a second to do the happy stimmies because you write all of the scenes so well. Whenever I see a new update I clear the next hour for reading it and the subsequent geek out sesion for how AMAZING it always is. You write extremely well, you convey the characters so acurately, the fight scenes are creative, the way you write Leo's perspective is AMAZING, love the font changes, the angst PALPABLE, and just over all I love everything you're able to do with this concept. The way you can see Leo's mental state deteriorating through out the fic is just *chefs kiss*. There's so much I love about the fic that I can't possibly list everything.

Also the established difference between teleporting and portaling is so great, it adds to the pure panic that void causes for the boys aside from, y'know, crazy dude capable of beating Big Mama within an inch of her life and STRAIGHT UP OFFING a buch of other yokai. It does wonders for establishing him as a threat even though he technically isn't for the turtles. Plus I'm sure that once they find out who Void really is, it will add a bunch of tension since they'll need to stop Leo from literally SCATTERING HIS ATOMS ACROSS SPACE.

AND THE CHAPTER PREVIEW ISTG I've never gotten so much serotonin from being in this much pain ;0; The gif is perfect to set the mood, I can't wait to see what happens. You're ablility to choose just the right thing to stab so many people directly through the heart is nothing short of super-natural. BUT PLEASE give the boi some happiness, if not for his sake, for mine-

ANYWAYS this is all a VERY long way of saying, I absolutely love this and I had to draw the silly boi being the silly boi. I needed to draw him happy for the health of my heart ;-; (don't worry though, I'm working on some tasty angst right now)

Can't wait to see where everything goes, GOOD LUCK TO CASEY but there only six chapters left so we're getting to the end game now >:D

Please have a wonderful rest of your week :D

THANK U SO MUCH ;w; I’m so so happy that my fight scenes are followable/enjoyable, and tho they are a binch to code I’m so happy you enjoy the funky fonts and formatting ;w; i know reading blocks of text can be intimidating/tiring for readers, so i try to break it up to help with the pacing and sprinkle in some fun, spooky fonts as treats 🩵

Something i really, REALLY loved about Rise was the fights. Not only was the animation amazing, but it was always so creative. I try my best to make the fight scenes as silly as the boys can be, while utilizing their adaptive skills to use their surroundings to their advantage.

And bruh trying to balance Leo’s insanity in a believable way has been such a (fun) challenge so it makes me so happy to hear you like it 😭🥺 and I’m so glad people seem to like the ‘teleportation’ gimmick I’ve got going on (and that it hopefully makes sense omg)

(And i will admit I’m a little proud of my chapter previews because they are so fun to write, and i like to reassure readers that 1) i have a plan and 2) I’m keeping myself accountable to finish LOL)

Also aksdlaskdhaksdh thank u for this art this part especially is SENDING ME WHEEZE 🤣🩵❗️