#And the robot grows not only to serve‚ but to love

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

What if I was insane again about the first thing Alpha Grim Sonic hearing when Nine creates him is his purpose—that he is Nine's friend?

Friendship as a concept in Prime is handled interestingly among its main characters. As Sonic (who thinks he knows a lot about friendship) comes to deepen his understanding of what it means to have a home/be home, I think it's safe to say his definition of friendship develops along with it. Compare this to Nine, who's learned everything he knows about "friendship" and personal relationships in general through his relationship with Sonic (at least, after his childhood of bullying).

So of course I think about Nine, who never wants to be hurt again, yet can no longer bear feeling alone (not after feeling that sense of companionship and belonging with someone else), which results in him creating a warped version of friendship for himself (one where he is surrounded by people, but people who only do whatever he wants, who have no opinions and thoughts of their own, who can't backstab him). And so I think about Alpha Grim Sonic, who is the very first robot Nine creates under this idea of frienship and companionship.

Nine is his master, and Alpha Grim Sonic is his protector, his bodyguard, his weapon

But he's also his friend.

Alpha Grim Sonic doesn’t talk back (can't even if he wanted to), but his purpose has always been clear to him: be Nine's friend. That's what he was created to be.

So I imagine Alpha Grim Sonic performing his purpose to the T at first under Nine's framework. He's Nine's friend, so he does whatever Nine commands, he never talks back or challenges authority, he protects Nine at all cost. And then, perhaps unbeknownst to Nine, he begins to shift ever so gradually. Sure, he's never insubordinate, he never offers up opinions, he still can't speak, but the lines of devotion begin to blur.

Is it in his code? Is out of a real sense of feeling?

Alpha Grim Sonic does not understand friendship, no matter whether it believes it does or not. But it's ironic to me if, despite being created under Nine's warped idea of it, the robot slowly grows their own soul, witnesses other displays of frienship and care, and drifts outside the bounds of that idea (a carefully crafted painting begins to leak out of its frame, expanding the masterpiece). They protect Nine, they do only what he commands, and yet they hate to see Nine in pain, they wish to bring Nine comfort (and so it feels good to him when Nine commands him to do such things that might bring his master comfort).

Does this make any sense? To believe that friendship means to hold one person on a pedestal, to protect them, to only listen to them, to never talk back, to never have opinions, and yet, despite believing what your creator tells you of friendship with them (your very purpose in this existence), to slowly fall further into those feelings that true care and love for another person brings, to wish to comfort someone the way one might describe a true friend would, despite not realizing any of this.

[muletia]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐬 -`♡´-

orion pax x human!reader x d-16 and a sprinkle of platonic x elita <3 pocket spouse au

summary: finally, the time has come to meet your spouse! after joining the Pocket Spouse Program — an Earth-Cybertron friendship pact allowing humans to become partners to bots who wish to have their very own human to love, cherish, and treat as their soft, squishy spouses — you’ve been waiting for so long for your turn to come. and as it turns out, this long-awaited day is full of pleasant surprises <3

cw: fluff, canon divergence because tfo takes place bazilion years before humans, a little bit of jealousy and obsessive thoughts, possessiveness, implied polyamory, implied nsfw thoughts (nothing explicit thought)

word count: 3900

shot out to all the anons and non-anons who gave me a lot of great ideas for this au <3

Armed with a travel bag filled with the most useful items and a backpack stuffed with supplies, you stand before the capsule-shaped elevator. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping into the tight, enclosed space, and enter, sealing your fate. The doors close behind you, and without giving you even a second to prepare, the elevator descends rapidly, taking you towards your new life but not granting enough time to fully shake off the old one.

Not that there was much to shake off, considering you had willingly made the decision to join the Pocket Spouse program. Nothing was holding you on Earth, least of all luck, so you decided to seek it elsewhere. And as it happened, you chose to start your search on a planet inhabited by sentient, enormous, transforming robots who, apparently, had quite the fascination with humans. An extreme new beginning, but after hearing only good things about the living conditions and the way humans were treated with care, you figured — why not, if it meant living in luxury?

Of course, you had considered various scenarios in case the rumors turned out to be a sham. You could end up with anyone. A fetishist, a collector of exotic pets, a hoarder of toys. That was the unknown, stressful factor that the speed of the elevator gave you no chance to tame. The decision of which robotic spouse you would be assigned to also did not belong to you, so all you could do was hope for a stroke of luck that you’d end up with someone normal.

You don’t even have time to take another deep, reassuring breath when the capsule comes to a sharp stop, and almost immediately its sliding doors open.

You’re greeted by a metallic face with distinctly feminine features. Beautiful in its strange, alien way, but also serious. One look is enough to tell you that you’re dealing with a bot who is strict and has no tolerance for nonsense, but your first impression naturally shifts when your eyes and her optics meet. Her metal face softens almost instantly, easing your stress just enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. You step out toward the bot, onto a small platform designed specifically for a species of your size, and with each step, the bot seems to grow to an unsettlingly immense scale.

The room is small — or at least it seems that way as you try to translate its dimensions into the standards of the giants who inhabit this planet — and carelessly sterile in dark gray tones. There’s no doubt it was put together in a rush, without much thought, simply to exist and serve its function. Its barrenness is unsettling. So much for a luxurious life of doing nothing?

The bot straightens and pulls a datapad closer as she finally speaks. “[Name] [Last Name], I presume?” You still can’t get over how easily the metal of her face bends and flexes when needed, as if it were made of rubber.

“Exactly.”

She nods her helm. “My name is Elita One. I am the head of this mining sector, and I also hold responsibility for every pocket spouse assigned here. And unless there is a change in management, you answer to me, you listen to me, and you bring all future requests or orders to me.”

Oh. So you got assigned to the working class. Fine, you’ll adjust as soon as you get proper living conditions. “Alright.” The lack of warmth in her demeanor discourages you from wanting to engage in any future interactions, but if she’s your only lifeline to protection from potential mistreatment, you’ll treat her words as gospel. “Nice to meet you.” You smile and extend a hand toward her. She stares at you hesitantly for a moment before finally reaching out a single digit to complete the greeting.

“Likewise.”

Elita doesn’t withdraw her servo, though; instead, she straightens it and clasps her digits together, gesturing for you to climb onto her palm. “For safety.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You accept the invitation, though a red flag starts waving in your mind. You don’t remain on her servo for long, as Elita smoothly and carefully transfers you onto her shoulder.

“I advise you to be careful,” she warns. “Miners rarely interact with pocket spouses, so they might try to touch you or snatch you up in their servos. Do not try to stand, do not lean over, and above all, do not excite them. A simple wave of your hand is enough to send them into a frenzy. Understood?”

Alright, now the stress is back. You hadn’t expected such strong reactions towards humans, especially since this trend od getting pocket spouses was no longer new. “Wait. I thought pocket spouses were already a well-established concept on your planet.”

“Not in these parts,” she sighs. “On the surface, the sight of humans may not cause much of a stir, but things are different down here. For us miners, pocket spouses are a rarity. Only the best can afford them.”

Oh, so even among a highly advanced race of sentient robots, there was still a harmful caste system in place. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, because what else is there to say in this situation? When she shoots you a sour glance, you decide to change the subject, hoping to save your image from seeming callous and naïve. You clear your throat. “So, I assume you already have your own pocket spouse?”

She gives you a pointed side-eye. She saw right through your plan.

“Of course, I do. Do I need to repeat myself about being careful, or is everything clear?”

“Clear as day.” You don’t need to see her faceplate to know that this human phrase is unfamiliar to her. Feeling her impatient side-eye on you, you awkwardly correct yourself, “Yes.”

“Good. If you have anything else you’d like to know, now is the time to ask. I assure you, you won’t have time later.”

“My spouse. What are they like?”

“Spouses,” she corrects nonchalantly, not even looking up from her datapad, throwing you completely off.

“Spouses? Do I get one for free?”

Elita does not appreciate your attempt at humor. She sends you a sharp look.

“In a manner of speaking. Officially, a pocket spouse is assigned to a single bot, but there are cases of sharing. Or, if by some miracle, a human ends up with a conjunx. But I haven’t heard of such cases.”

Conjunx? That’s a new word, and it means absolutely nothing to you, but you decide to store it in your memory for later, too distracted by the fact that you’ve been assigned to a pair.

“Okay, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I think? I don’t know yet, you caught me off guard.” You take a deep breath. You’ll manage. Somehow. “So, my spouses. What are they like?”

Elita’s expression darkens, and that, in turn, unsettles you. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“What is it? Did I get assigned to some creeps?”

“Worse,” she huffs. “D-16 is a decent mech and an exemplary miner, and officially, he is your spouse. But Orion —” she grips the datapad tighter as if restraining herself from an outburst “—Orion is the most foolish, irresponsible, and reckless bot on all of Cybertron. And if you think I’m exaggerating, you’re gravely mistaken. He attracts trouble like a magnet and throws himself into it because he is incorrigible. I almost pity you, really, because you couldn’t have gotten a worse match. Even Darkwing would have been a better spouse.”

But… as if fighting her own thoughts, she adds, “For all their recklessness… they worked very hard to have you, and I know they will treat you well. Perhaps clumsily at first, but well. That doesn’t change the fact that Orion has an empty canister instead of a processor, so if he does something idiotic, and he will, you are to report it to me immediately.”

Galncing at the datapad, she adds "Do you want to know anything else? We don't have much time for idle chatter."

"Just one thing. You mentioned that there's already a human in this sector. Can you arrange for us to meet sometime soon? It’d be nice to have occasional contact with someone like me."

"We'll see what can be done," she replies warily, clearly displeased with the idea. Her answer makes it obvious that there's a high chance you’ll be left hanging rather than meeting your fellow human, but you’re not giving up that easily.

"Thanks," you say. Out of politeness, feeling an even stronger urge to stay on her good side.

"Shall we begin?"

You take a deep breath. You’re doing this. You’re meeting your extraterrestrial partners, cementing your future on this planet. Your hesitation lasts only a moment — just a brief weighing of pros and cons, an instant of fighting the urge to turn around and run back to the elevator. Less than a second is all it takes for you to give your answer.

"Yes, I want to meet them."

"Be careful," she warns sharply, one last time. "I've worked too hard for this job to lose it now because of human irresponsibility."

Elita takes a step forward, and you have to grab onto her helm to keep your balance, but thankfully, an exaggerated optic-roll is her only reaction to the excess contact. The next steps aren’t as shocking; by the third, you’ve adjusted to the rhythm of the giant leading you to a set of sliding doors, which she opens with a button on the side.

Your pocket spouses certainly know how to make… an intriguing first impression.

Caught off guard by the sudden opening of the doors, they literally tumble into the room and land on the floor, shooting you a lightning-fast glance before scrambling to their pedes at record speed, straightening up as if nothing happened. Their excited grins grow quickly and they’re clearly contagious, because you feel your own lips curling into a smile.

They look masculine and young, as much as you can say that about beings whose tissues don’t age. What grabs your attention most is the bot with yellow optics. You haven’t seen such a unique color among their kind before. Maybe you haven’t met many bots yet, but you could swear most had blue optics. Interesting... You make a mental note to compliment those bright, captivating optics later.

Your gazes meet, and the mech with the unusual, beautiful optics parts his lips slightly. You get the feeling he wants to say something, but excitement completely paralyzes him.

"Well, that was a stunning performance. Was eavesdropping worth it?"

"Ahem, no... we weren't eavesdropping," Orion defends himself, though his gaze remains fixed on you.

"Forgive us, Elita, you just caught us off guard when you opened the door so suddenly," D-16 adds, having suddenly regained control over his body.

They step closer, as if hypnotized, drawn to minimizing the distance, but Elita halts them with an outstretched arm. They stop, but their lovestruck expressions make it clear that their minds are already revolving solely around you.

"Ugh, pull yourselves together," Elita scolds. "You won’t lay so much as a digit on your pocket spouse until you’ve listened to the protocol, so focus."

"Mhm, yeah, yeah."

"Now do you understand what I was talking about earlier?" she directs at you. "I wish you Primus' patience with these two airheads."

"Oh, come on, they’re quite charming," you remark — but it turns out to be unnecessary, as the eruption of joy at hearing your voice is nearly impossible for even Elita to suppress.

Both of them surge forward, their excited cheers and cooing echoing through the empty room, bombarding you with loud adoration.

"Didn’t I just say something about getting them worked up?!" Elita hisses at you, but the sharp tone doesn’t sit well with your partners, their expressions suddenly sober as they feel the instinct to stand in your defense.

"Elita, leave them alone," Orion intervenes. "They’ve done nothing wrong."

"I knew this would happen," Elita sighs. "Enough. Let me recite the protocol so we can all go our separate ways, because I don’t have time to babysit all of you."

She looks at the two mechs before her to make sure they’re listening, but it quickly becomes evident they have no intention of cooperating today.

"Primus, focus! Do you think I have time to waste? Unlike you, empty cans, I have a ton of work to do and I'd like to finish it before my shift starts."

Still seeing their dazed, absentminded expressions, Elita decides to escalate.

"Do I have to take your pocket spouse away for you to finally pay attention?"

Orion snaps out of his trance first, alarmed at the idea of you being taken away.

"What? No, no! We’re listening now, boss."

"Next time, there won’t be a verbal warning. I’ll smack you both on the helms, and that’ll be the end of your pocket spouse respecting you."

Of course, a reprimanding servo-to-helm contact was unavoidable when it became clear they were drifting off again. But after the protocol was recited, a datapad signed, and you were informed that regular supplies of human fuel and clothing would be delivered to you, the long-awaited moment of your "eviction" from Elita’s shoulder finally arrived.

She steps closer to the two bots, who extend their servos with interlaced small digits toward you so you can transfer safely. Grabbing your bag, you carefully step from her shoulder onto their servo, at last entering physical contact with your spouses.

"You have a few clicks of free time before your shift starts," Elita informs them. "And if you’re even a nanoklik late, I swear you’ll be pulling overtime."

She gives you one last soft, almost sympathetic look, so out of place with her previous authoritative tone before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Two pairs of optics focus on you.

You gaze into them, sinking into the moment, finally understanding what Elita meant about their fascination with humans. Because looking into their dazzling optics, brimming with excitement and adoration, you find yourself experiencing that same fascination with their alien race, even though you’ve met other bots before.

You can truly call yourself a pocket spouse now, completely leaving your past life behind. And you sincerely hope this one will be better. That Orion and D-16 will make it so, though you have no guarantee.

"Hello," you say warmly.

"Hi," they reply almost simultaneously.

D-16 can’t hold back any longer. He extends his servo toward you, eager to finally acquaint himself with the texture of your body, but he hesitates the moment he feels you shiver ever so slightly, struck by your fear.

"Ah, I’m sorry, don’t be afraid," he says.

A bad start. A very bad start. He worries he’s already tainted your budding relationship, that his reckless excitement has scared you enough that you won’t give him a chance to open up. But you quickly soothe his fears.

"It’s okay, really. You can touch me if you want."

Their youthful, boyish excitement returns, softening their handsome metal faces — and your heart along with them.

"Just be careful," you remind them. "Humans are quite prone to accidental squishing."

"We’ll remember," D-16 promises. "We’d never hurt you. Right, Orion?"

"Of course. You’ll be completely safe with us."

"Alright, I believe you." Not entirely. You want to believe them. But if what Elita said was true, then they would stay true to their word if they worked so hard to be assigned a human. Only fools would deliberately destroy the fruits of their labor. "So? Do you want to touch your pocket spouse?"

Your pocket spouse. Your. Theirs. Theirs and only theirs.

It’s a dangerous thought for a miner, because the concept of ownership had been limited to just a recharge station and the locker next to it. Everything else was shared. Shared washracks, shared habsuites, shared berths for resting. There was no room for theirs.

But you were theirs. Truly, undeniably, and tangibly theirs. Only theirs. And they wanted it to stay that way. Theirs to touch, theirs to give attention to, theirs to talk to and compliment. Not for Jazz, not for Wheeljack, not for Sideswipe, and no longer for Elita. Theirs. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time because you were burdening them with responsibilities they had never known before. Theirs. They couldn’t rely on anyone else anymore.

They exchange a brief, knowing glance. Theirs. They cannot ruin this. They cannot make mistakes. You have to like them, just as they instantly fell in love with you, and see them as good spouse material. They will show you that they can take care of you. Their pocket spouse. Theirs. Only theirs.

"What’s wrong? You don’t want to?" you ask teasingly, snapping them out of the traps of their own thoughts.

"Oh, Primus, of course we do. Very much. You have no idea how much," Orion confesses.

They were both brave, but it’s Orion who makes the first move. His servo finds your back, pressing against it with a single digit. Soft. Oh, so soft.

Once, he asked Elita what her pocket spouse felt like, and that was the answer he got. He didn’t understand it then. What was softness? What kind of sensation was it? What could he compare it to? But now… now he knew that softness was you, and you were softness. And if he could, he would never let you go.

"Wow, incredible. D, this is incredible, unlike anything else. You’re… extraordinary!"

He gently strokes your back, and you allow yourself to wrap your hand around his massive metal finger, which Orion welcomes with a beaming, delighted smile. How was it possible that your servo was even softer? Or maybe somewhere else, you were even softer still. He’d heard that humans and Cybertronians were compatible, and though he knows it’s not exactly proper to let his mind drift into impure, carnal territories so early in the relationship, cannot stop himself from dreaming of drowning in your softness. Wants to be surrounded by it. Wants to be suffocated by it. Wants to feel it after every shift, wake up in it and recharge.

Impatient with his partner’s sluggishness and selfishness, D-16 clicks his glossa.

"Move your digit, Pax, it’s my turn now."

It takes Orion a few nanokliks to pull himself away from his indecent thoughts. He doesn’t want to let you go, doesn’t want to be more than a few centimeters away from you ever again, but he knows D will smack him on the still-fresh sore spot left by Elita on his helm if he doesn’t pull his servo back. So he does. And immediately, he is consumed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness and emptiness, as if his life has suddenly become incomplete. He already wants to come back to you.

D-16’s reaction is similar. Awe at the new but pleasant texture manifests in his slightly parted intake and quick strokes across your back, searching for and discovering softness. Where your hand meets his digit, an incomparable warmth spreads, giving him a sense of completeness. You, him, and Orion. Three puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, finally reunited after years of separation.

"I’m glad you like me," you laugh. "That’s a good start, huh?"

"It was good the moment we saw you," Orion says. "Really, we couldn’t have imagined a better pocket spouse."

"You’re too kind," you reply. You know they’re speaking from excitement, their minds weaving intricate visions and fantasies about life with a pocket spouse — visions that might not be so rosy in reality — but you don’t want to ruin it for them. Especially since you want to find a good life here, too. You want to be happy, regardless of the expectations they unknowingly place upon you. If they want to play house, you’ll join them. If they have a human fetish, you’ll indulge them in that too. "I think we’ll be happy together, won’t we? I’d like that."

"We will, for sure!" Orion assures enthusiastically.

"We know we’re just lousy miners, and you won’t have any luxuries," D-16 adds, earning a sharp elbow to the side from Orion. "I wasn’t finished, Pax." He elbows him back. "But we’ll do our best to make sure you have a good life with us. We’ll do everything for you. We’ll get… almost anything, but if you need something from the city, just say the word! Orion or I will get you food, clothes, whatever you need."

"Thanks, you’re sweet," you say, touched by their words. "I know I can’t do much, but maybe I can repay you somehow?"

"Just having you here is enough for now," D-16 says, smiling softly, enchanted by your question.

"Will you touch us again?" Orion asks, only to immediately receive a frustrated elbow. "What? They asked first."

D-16 pinches the bridge of his nose, unable to believe his partner’s tactlessness. Orion’s talent for making things worse had to affect you, it just had to. Just like every fragging time, it would fall on his shoulders to get them out of trouble, and in this case, to make sure you saw them as normal and worthy of being your spouses. They cannot mess this up. At any cost.

Which is why D is surprised when he hears your soft laughter. He lifts his servo from his faceplate and looks at you hopefully. So their relationship wasn’t ruined by Orion’s loose vocalizer?

"Of course. Come closer," you say, encouraging them further by crooking a finger.

Two massive faceplates move toward you simultaneously until they finally touch. They’re so close that you can stroke their cheeks, and so you do, slowly running your fingers over warm, living metal, drowning in their proximity. Orion and D-16 press into your hands, leaning into the comforting, though foreign, softness — now only theirs. Not for perching on Elita’s shoulder anymore. For them. Theirs to be petted, theirs to be embraced.

They could spend a lifetime in this room if it meant constant cheek-stroking and being spoiled by you. Oh, how they couldn’t wait for your shared life. Waking up with you. Coming back to their recharge stations after a hard day’s work, knowing someone was waiting for them. Spending time together. Telling you about Megatronus and Sentinel, showing off their merch, sharing every detail of their lives, and begging you to tell them about yours. About your planet, your interests, your human life — so they could make your life here as good as possible, desperately vying for your affection.

You will like them. You must. Because they already adored you, unconditionally devoted to their beloved pocket spouse. Theirs.

Relaxed and overwhelmed with contentment, they let their engines hum louder.

"Oh? You like this that much?" you ask, totaly not planning to exploit the bots’ ability to purr purely for your own selfish pleasure.

"Very much," Orion rumbles.

"You’re the best," D-16 adds.

For a moment, they open their optics, their gaze focused on you. And the trust flickering within them, the fervor of emotions burning away reason convinces you that you chose well by deciding to become a pocket spouse.

[valentinebugzee]

Chapter 2 of Sonic Boom! Stone AU

Love, Trust, and a handful of thread

Finally Stone gets to serve eggman a latte with steamed Austrian goat milk

Sticks and Shadow form an alliance, besties with different trust issues yay

EDIT: I accidentally posted the unedited version on here so it's better to read the fic on Ao3!!

Meanwhile back at the cafe:

Amy apologized profusely for Stick's behavior

"I'm so sorry Mr. Stone, she's usually way nicer..." The Hedgehog's ears drooped

Stone shook his head "No need to apologize, Ms. Amy, she's not the worst customer I've ever had."

It was true because Sticks wasn't even a customer yet, she was a whole other problem...

She was getting close to blowing his cover, her theory was dangerously close to the truth, just who was that badger?

A nut job according to her friends, but she wasn't the first person to be suspicious of the human, the cops (well, cop: singular) were wary of him, warning him from causing havoc, "Eggman is enough work already!" to which Stone scoffed internally at, Sonic and his team do all the work.

He didn't want to defend "heroes" but had to admit even if it pained him, they weren't so bad, if he could divide his time between his job as a barista and his..hobby then he'd be able to maintain a somewhat normal friendship with the rodents.

Were echidnas rodents? He'd look it up later.

A little kid was sitting next to his brother eating a cupcake, his little brother started fighting him over it until it dropped for the older brother's hand.

Stone grabbed two cupcakes from behind the glass display and went to give one to each boy.

"Here you kiddos, free of charge." He smiled giving each kid a cupcake, he also briefly glared at their mom who just sat there and let them fight each other.

Sure he may be a villain but he will judge bad parents, he needed good reviews for his restaurant anyway.

Amy internally cooed at how nice Stone was to kids.

Sonic took the last sip of his coffee and patted his legs seemingly looking for his wallet, even though he wasn't wearing any pants, Stone made a face at that.

"Crap, I forgot my wallet, let me just scurry back home and grab some money, I'll be back in a blink of an eye."

"You don't have to do that, this is the first time you guys grace my cafe with your presence after all, your orders are on the house."

"That's so nice of you mister!" Tails beamed at the man, "Yeah a little too nice, you give out a lotta free stuff, money doesn't grow on trees y'know" Sonic said, there was no malice in his tone.

"Yeah, we all know money comes out of printers." Knuckles spoke between bites of his brownie.

They all stared at him for a moment.

Tails sighs "Remind me to discuss Knuckles's counterfeiting habits."

A loud blast from outside interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

It was Eggman, of course, "Told ya' Eggman would appear sooner or later." Sonic said to Stone, "Stay right here Stones, we'll protect the place."

The moment the barista's eyes landed on the villain beyond his glass doors his heart skipped a beat, suddenly no one else existed it was just him and that man.

That maniacal laughter only served to make the pink effect around him grow even brighter and more glittery.

Or however the hell you describe Shoujo vision in writing.

The team ran out to fight the man in the egg mobile, the fight went on for a minute while Stone stared in awe at the evil doctor, admiring his every command to his robots, and how determined he was.

"Why's your face like that, Mister? And what's with all the glitter?" the little kid from earlier asked

Stone realized how odd he was behaving, he'll have to get his act together if he wants Dr. Eggman to become his new boss.

Another laser blast hit the spot right in front of his cafe if it had been any closer it would've absolutely destroyed the entrance.

He quickly adjusted his clothes and hair and sprinted toward Eggman.

"Hey! You there! uh, sir!" Stone waved to the doctor, in return he raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar man.

He lowered his egg mobile enough to not have to raise their voices to hear each other, he yelled anyway.

"What do you want?!...and who are you." Dr.Eggman questioned, looking the man up and down.

Stone breathed in, "This is it, don't mess it up", he thought to himself.

The barista grins, "I'm Stone..my name is Stone, and this is my coffee shop, I was wondering if you could move this battle a little further away from my shop, I don't want to be destroyed...is all." Stone cleared his throat nervously.

Eggman stared at him for a moment.

"Stone! What are you doing man!? He's gonna laser blast you!" Sonic yelled out, Amy prepared her hammer, ready to protect Stone.

But Stone didn't waver or spare them a glance, he felt like this was his first test, to prove how worthy he was, so he stared right back.

Everyone in this village has a staring problem.

"...and why should I listen to you?" Eggman snarled, if it was anyone else talking to him he would've ordered a robot to throw him in the ocean immediately, but he was intrigued with this "Stone" guy, if he was speaking honestly to himself he'd admit that Stone was the most beautiful man on this godforsaken land.

Which doesn't sound that impressive since every other man was an animal.

"um... please?" Stone awkwardly tilted his head to the side.

Eggman groaned, "Okay fine! Now stop glittering!".

And with that Eggman's egg mobile floated away.

"Glittering?.." Stone parroted, he shrugged and just sighed with one last glance at Eggman.

The team quickly went after him, but Sonic zoomed back in front of Stone.

"Okay I don't know how you did that but that was impressive." He smirked before speeding back to his friends.

Soon, the team went back to their previous seats, they noticed that Stone seemed a little happier than before.

Then Eggman appeared, without his egg mobile and robots that is.

Stone's back straightened and his eyes went wide, he smiled again.

"Welcome, sir." Stone greets him as calmly as he can, "It's "Doctor"." Eggman corrected.

Stone nodded enthusiastically, "My apologies, Doctor."

The Doctor asked the questions literally everyone else has asked already, "when was this place even built?", "What are all these coffees?", "what's with the red stain on the ground?"

"Let me serve you something special, Doctor." The villain raised an eyebrow, "Just go take a seat and I'll bring it to you in no time."

And that's what the doctor did.

Stone started working on his special order, He gasped a little when he turned around and found Amy and Sonic right behind him, "Dude, do you want us to get this guy out of here?" Sonic offered, "Yeah, you don't have to serve him if you don't want to." Amy added.

"No! No no, don't do that, this is exactly what I want.." He looked back to smile at the doctor, whose back was facing him.

Amy can recognize that smile anywhere, and Sonic recognizes that pink aura...

"Oh boy." Sonic moans, "Don't be like that." Amy giggled and nudged her blue friend.

"What?" Stone asks while already turning around to resume making the drink.

"Stone..is there something you want to tell us?" Pinky sways gently.

"uh yeah, customers are not allowed behind the counter." Stone tries to hide his crimson face from the other two.

"She means about Eggman, don't tell me you got the hots for a guy that needs his robots to do every little thing for him"

"I can do every little thing for him." Stone thinks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stone shrugs.

Amy and Sonic exchange a look before chuckling together.

"Okay, but we're gonna kick his butt if he tries anything, just signal for us whenever." Sonic and Amy return to their friends, who have equally smug looks on their faces.

Stone finally finishes the drink and servers it.

"Here you go sir-I mean Doctor!" he stammers.

Eggman looks at it suspiciously before taking a sip, his expression changes for a second before going back to faux annoyance.

"This is...good...what is it?" "It's a latte with steamed Austrian goat milk." Stone beams, Eggman takes another sip, and Stone stands there staring at him with fond eyes.

"What? Are you just gonna stand there? Scram!" Eggman commanded.

Stone immediately obliged with the goofiest grin on his face.

Sonic and his friends were severely judging him.

15 minutes late Cubot and Orbot barged through the doors, "We fixed the Egg mobile, boss!" the two robots announced, the cube-shaped one pointed at Stone "Hey isn't that the handsome guy with the stupid grin you told us about?"

Eggman quickly got on his feet, "What? No! What are you talking about!?" And dragged his henchmen out the door.

Stone was sure that he might just die.

___________________________

Sticks looked for the hedgehog, she knew this forest like the back of her claw, there were only so many caves she could look through before finding the morally ambiguous emo dude.

The purple glowing symbols on the cave's walls caught her attention, surely he was here.

She dragged her hand along the rough texture of the cave's interior, admiring it for a moment, she wondered if tails could decipher what was written.

"What are you doing here." She snapped her head around quickly to face the black and red hedgehog.

"You!" Sticks's grating voice echoed through the cave.

She stepped forward, "I need your help, this is urgent."

Shadow squints his eyes as if telling her to go on.

"There's this man- a "Stone" as he calls himself, he's pure evil I'm telling you!" She squeaked, "His coffee shop just appeared in the middle of town, and everyone seems to like him." She glared at the ground beneath her.

Shadow eyebrows furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, the badger's hands were at her side clenched tightly, and the hair on her head and back stood up, this was serious.

"What will I gain from helping you?" Shadow scoffs.

"It's what will you gain from not helping me, we'll all be under that man's mercy if we don't do anything." she flailed her arms around.

Shadow thought about it for a moment, he can't have somebody establishing dominance over the entire area, he can't let a lower lifeform do that...

"He wants to brainwash us all, I'm tellin' ya!", "and what good would that serve him?"

Sticks grabbes Shadow by the shoulders, "He wants to discover the village's most crucial secrets!" Shadow rolls his eyes "What 'crucial secrets' would this pathetic village even have?"

"Um, Comedy chimp's real name, the real secret ingredient in Meh Burger, Soar the eagle's shady past." She lets go of him and snaps her fingers, "Catch up, Shads."

"And why did you choose me specifically to help you?" he lifted his nose up high, "I'm sure the colorful bunch you call friends would love to help you sort this out."

"They don't believe me!" She screeched.

His face scrunched up and his ears twitched at her loud voice, "Chaos, I wonder why" The ultimate lifeform thought.

"And they're all probably brainwashed already! They ate and drank from that guy's food, it's definitely *full* of microchips." Sticks stomped her foot, "And I can't do this on my own, I need someone strong enough to handle him if I'm kidnapped!"

Shadow hums and thinks to himself...

Her theory sounded insane, yes, but anything is possible, he doesn't want to deal with the aftermath if they could deal with this before it starts to get ugly.

"...How about this." He approaches the brown and cocoa girl, "I need proof, something to go off of, I can't just dive blindly into action like I'm some...blue boy."

He puts a claw on her shoulder, "Prove to me that this man is something more than just a barista, then I will form an alliance with you."

Sticks's eyes light up with anticipation, "Deal!" she announced before grabbing his hand in a handshake.

He regrets this already.

__________________

The sun was almost setting, and Stone's off the clock.

He locked the cafe's doors and stretched his back, today was draining and eventful, now he had to go pick up some stuff for the shop and himself, and *then* he could go home.

He picks up the bag he was gonna carry groceries in.

From behind a tree nearby Sticks nudges Shadow, "Okay, he's out of the shop and he's heading for the market, we just have to wait until he's all alone, and *bam*! Catch him and make him spit out the truth!"

The hedgehog tapped his foot impatiently, "This sounds idiotic, if your theory about him being a government agent is correct how are you going to combat him to interrogate him?"

"I don't have to, I'll set up a net for him to tangle up in."

"Oh really? And how will you be able to do that if you don't know his specific path?"

"I'll follow him and when the time's right I'll run a few steps ahead and set up a trap."

Shadow snorted, "You can't possibly believe that you'll be able to set up a whole trap when you're only a few steps ahead."

Sticks crossed her arms, "are you doubting my skills? 'Cause let me tell ya' I've been hand-making nets, boomerangs, weapons, and all kinds of traps since I was a little cub! This is easier than..than.."

"taking candy from a baby?"

"Yeah!" she fumed.

"If you seriously believe that you can pull this off, then have at it, but I won't stand around and watch this pathetic display."

"Fine." She stomped and turned her back to him.

"He's gone by the way."

She gasped and stepped out of the tree's shadow and turned her head around frantically looking for the subject of her distress.

She turns back to Shadow, "This is all your fault-" Before she could point an accusing finger she realized that he had already left.

_____________

After a few minutes of looking and cursing Shadow out to herself, she finally found him.

She hid behind a stack of wooden crates staring at the human who was negotiating the price of some fruit with the merchant.

She sat there monitoring him.

The sound of the merchants, buyers, and kids all blended together as she started to space out, her thoughts becoming louder than outside noises.

Why don't her friends ever trust her? She was right that one time with Eggman's dreambot, was that not enough? Were her contributions to her team not enough?

And then here comes Shadow, her last resort.

They've only spoken once and at the end of that interaction, he dropped her from the sky!

The badger rubs her eyes before her tears fall, she was thankful that Amy wasn't here, the last thing she wanted to talk about was her feelings.

"I'll show 'em.." she mutters to herself.

She shifted her focus back to the government agent, he's been standing there since forever, what could possibly be that intriguing about fruits!?

She crawled out of her hiding spot and rolled over to hide behind a stand closer to Stone.

Her ear perked up as she tried to pick up on what Stone was saying.

"Beige berries you say?"

"I didn't say anything." The merchant deadpanned.

"A beige berry pie does sound good... you're prices are ridiculous though."

The merchant scoffed, "If you don't like it then how about you go pick the berries yourself."

"oh yeah I'll just venture into the forest while the sun is setting with zero protection just to pick berries for a pie, that sounds like a great idea."

There was a short pause... before Stone headed towards the forest to do just that.

"He's going to look for berries... I'll have to be quick and swift and precise, I only have one chance to catch him." she took a bite of her apple.

"Are you going to pay for that?" The merchant asked.

"Put it on the government agent's tab." she sprinted away.

____________

Stone admired the forest, which I will not describe because you know what a forest looks like.

Walking through the forest at this hour was rather nice, it was quiet except for some chirping and other animal noises, and the vague sound of someone setting up a net which he would gracefully ignore.

He thought about the pie he was planning on making, would the doctor like it? Would he even come by again?

Stone didn't know why he was asking himself these questions, he wanted to be the man's henchman, nothing more, nothing less, so why did the mere thought of him make his heart flip, jump up, kick back, whip around, and spin?

He shook his head, this was no way to think of his future boss.

He kneeled to pick the berries from a bush, that bush didn't have enough to make a pie, so he'd have to continue his walk.

His mind wandered for a minute, how would he grab the doctor's attention enough to get him to even *consider* Stone as a worthy henchman? The only things he knew about him so far were that he hated the rainbow furry hero squad and he treats his robots like garbage.

Oh, and that he loved the latte he served him. Stone beamed to himself proudly at the memory, if he could sell his latte-making skills to Eggman then he could definitely sell his evil-doing skills.

He should've spoken more to him when he had the chance instead of creepily staring at him from the counter. Stone's smile fell and he inwardly cursed himself.

Whatever, what's ahead of him is more important, he still has time to figure out how to win the villain over.

"He hates those rainbow critters huh..." Stone strokes his beard, "Maybe if I can catch them for him.. he'll see how useful I could be."

He giggled to himself in anticipation, he looked back up from his feet and saw another beige berry bush a few steps ahead of him, that one will surely suffice for the pie.

He trotted towards the bush, and all of a sudden everything was upside down and his bag was on the ground with the fruits spilling out, he had let out a shriek before coming down from the initial shock with a few deep breaths.

He fought against the restraints of the net he was caught in but it just wouldn't budge, his arms were tightly bound at his sides, and his legs were also bound together, he huffed and looked around for help or any sign of whoever put him in this predicament, all he found was a wooden stick to the head and then darkness.

______________

Stone groaned before slowly opening his eyes and quickly closing them again when the light assaulted them, which only served to make his pounding headache worse.

The sun had already set, and the only source of light was an electric lantern hanging from one of the tree branches, emitting a strong white light directly at his face, it brought back many unpleasant memories.

"Ugh..where am I?" His eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the figure of a badger in front of him, holding his wallet, he knew this lunatic was going to be a problem, he could see a hut just a few feet away, it matched its owner.

"I'm the one that should be asking questions here Mar-...Mar-wane" She pronounced his name like it hurt.

"It's Marwan... honestly that pronunciation is more offensive than the stick to the head you just gave me..and being hung upside down on a tree." He rolled his eyes, thankfully he was off the clock and out of uniform now and he could disrespect people as much as he pleased.

And yeah his name is 'Stone Stone'

"Shut up!" The wallet fell from the badger's claw.

She stomped towards the man and pressed her finger against his chest.

"This is an interrogation."

"Oh really? I thought I was roleplaying a pea pod." Stone snorted but there was no humor behind it.

"The only role you're going to be playing right now is the victim."

Stone raised an eyebrow "Pardon?" he was unimpressed.

"That didn't come out right." Sticks scratched the back of her head, "But that's not the point!"

"The point is I want to know exactly who you are." Her voice got low.

"You were holding my ID just a second ago."

"I mean who you *really* are, I know that you're not just some barista." Stick put her arms behind her back.

Stone swallows.

"I see right through your act and I will not stand around and watch you hornswoggle those innocent villagers and my friends!" She circled him.

Stone made a face, *"hornswoggle?"* he mouthed.

"As much as I enjoy this 60's caveman detective persona you got, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Sticks noticed the shift in his tone immediately, she stopped in her tracks, and her jaw clenched, he was using his sweet talker voice on her and would spew out a bunch of bunk.

"I'm just a guy trying to get by you know?... My old manager wasn't the nicest, so I had to find my way, I quit my job and I just happened to have enough to move here and start my own independent business, just to serve happiness in the form of freshly made coffee." He fluttered his lashes

Sticks wanted about to barf.

"I'm not as dumb as I look."

"Unfortunately." His tone went back to his *real* one.

"Then explain to me how the crud did your shop just appear in the middle of town?" she interrogated.

"Let's just say that it was already built just...moved."

She squints at him, "And why did you choose this town specifically?"

"I just heard good things about it."

That's the biggest piece of horse junk she's ever heard in her life, the only good thing that could be said about this town is that you don't have to go there.

Sticks decided that she needed to try a different approach, accusations.

"I know exactly what you are."

"...Why did you ask then-"

Sticks clutched Stone's shirt in her hand and pulled his hanging form towards her until they were nose to nose.

She inhales, "You're a government agent that's her to plant microchips into our food to brainwash us and learn all of our secrets to rule this village and turn us all into soldiers! and when that works out for you you'll be promoted to general and then betray your agency and who knows what else!" She exhaled and pants.

Stone looked at her in a way that could only be described as something between disbelief, anger, and exhaustion.

"Why would I plant microchips into your food...When I could just use your damn phones for that?! And what agency!?" Stone argued.

"Because I don't got a phone, so you can't control my brain."

Stone closed his eyes tightly for a second and took a deep breath, she's so lucky he has his arms tied.

"The only way your brain would prove useful is if I scoop it out of your carcass with a screwdriver." Stone countered, making the author debate whether they should change the fic's rating or not.

"Your threats don't scare me."

The human sighs deeply and prays that this is all just a very bad poised-berries-induced nightmare, "Can you at least put me down? It's hard to focus with all the blood rushing to my head."

"No! You don't deserve to be put down! You will stay right there like an oversized bat mutant until I can prove to my friends that they can trust me." she let go of him and crossed her arms, continuing her previous route of circling him.

Stone's expression faltered at the confession.

"Your friends don't trust you?"

Sticks pressed her lips together, there was something more genuine about Stone's shift in tone, perhaps pity.

"Not usually..or maybe they do-or-ugh!" Sticks made a noise of frustration that was equivalent to a chihuahua choking on a kazoo.

The badger sits down on a conveniently placed rock, "I dunno..."

"At first I thought it was because they don't trust my intuition," By intuition, she meant insane theories, "But I haven't even had a conversation with Shadow before today, and he also doesn't trust me!" She kicks the ground in frustration.

Stone hated this badger, he truly did, but that didn't mean he didn't feel at least a little bit of empathy for her, he went through something similar himself.

"..it sounds like to me that this is more about proving yourself than proving me evil."

The badger wailed, "That ain't it it's- it's about both... maybe." she rubbed both hands through her hair frantically, "I hate feelings talk! I'm so glad Amy isn't here she would've- wait a minute." she paused abruptly through her vent.

Her head slowly turned to the hanging man, she jumped from her seat "You're changing the subject!"

"Oh, am I?" He rolled his eyes, though he wasn't sure if he was actually changing the subject or that he cared, His moral compass was jammed.

"You're trying to persuade me into being vulnerable and talking about my feelings like a- like-"

"A therapist?" Stone guessed.

"A journalist!"

That checks out.

"This isn't working... I'll grab something to get you to talk, stay right there!" she ran inside to her hut.

He wasn't going to wait and find out what it was.

It only took Sticks a few minutes to emerge from her home with a comically large feather.

"Now you'll think before you talk- where did he go!?" She yelped, and she ran towards the spot where the government agent was previously hanging.

All that was left was a net that was burnt to a crisp around some edges.

The realization consumed her before the anger did, "I was right... I'm not paranoid...I was right!!" she pumped her fist in the air, the feather long forgotten.

Her friends were going to be so sorry when they find out just how wrong they were, she started doing her little "I told you so" dance over the burnt net.

"What are you doing?" a hoarse voice a few feet behind her interrupts her short victory shimmy, she screeches.

"Shadow?!" She was almost happy to see him, almost, before she remembered that she was mad at him, she crossed her arms and turned away from him.

Shadow kneels down over the ruined net, "These burn marks... they're precise, it was a machine that had done this."

"You were right," Shadow said the words with hesitation, he hated being wrong.

Shadow narrowed his eyes when no reply came, the badger just glanced at him with one eye for a second before shutting them again and turning further away.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She huffs and takes another step further away.

"Seriously?" He approaches her, "What has gotten into you? I don't have time for this foolishness."

"And I ain't got time for jerks either." She huffs.

"Is this about the trap thing?"

No reply, but she did turn slightly to glare at him.

"I was... wrong, okay? Now get over it."

She turned around again, they were back to square one.

"What do you want an apology?"

Sticks made a noise of frustration before sitting back down on the rock she was sitting on earlier.

"Speak up!" Shadow's patience was running thin.

"I want to understand why you don't trust me! You don't know me!"

"That's exactly why I don't trust you."

The badger's ears twitched, "oh.. that makes a little sense." her ears drooped.

The red and black hedgehog didn't want to get sappy with one of Sonic's hooligans but seems like he'll have to in the meantime.

He sat on a conveniently placed log next to the conveniently placed rock.

"I am..." He sighed, "I'm sor..." He groaned, "Sorry." it looked like he wanted to throw up, he looked down at his feet, "If we want to make this alliance work, we're going to have to trust each other from now on, happy?"

He looked down at his feet, he had the faintest blush on his cheeks, wow he was much worse than Sticks at this feelings thing.

Sticks smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "No worries Shads', I forgive ya'."

"Never call me that." Shadow stands up. "Let's discuss our next move tomorrow, he probably already went home by now."

"Let's kidnap him!"

"Yes because kidnapping a man from his home would make people trust you way more." He snarked.

"Oh, you're right, that's why we need each other."

"I don't need anyone."

"Oh yeah? Why're you teaming up with me then?" she teased, leaning her face uncomfortably closer to his.

"Don't push your luck." He grabbed her face and pushed it away.

_______________

Does anybody else have this problem where they write so so much but there are more words than events actually happening? yeah same

sorry for the abrupt ending lol

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream &lt;;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams &lt;;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Burnt Vader x PetReader) *Blurb*

Summary:  It was No Nut November and your master, who never backs down, took on the challenge…by submersing himself in his bacta tank for the whole month.  However the time has gone and passed, and now he seeks you out…to help him empty his aching, burgeoning sack.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all of the lovely smut. Blowjob, some manhandling, lots of jizzing, overgrown balls, suitless/bacta covered dark daddy, mention of cumflation…and Vader’s big, scarred dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

Goes with Make Them Blue (Unburnt Vader x ApprenticeReader)!

- “On your knees…”  The command was simple, straightforward.  And although Vader’s voice is muffled slightly by the breathing mask, it leaves no room for argument.  Not that you would dare nor want to do so.

- “Ye-yes, my lord…”  Without hesitating you drop to your knees before him.  Hungry gaze glued to his hard, leaking length…to his bulging, burgeoning sack.  Hands trembling, folded in your lap.  Thighs subtly squeezing, rubbing together.  “How can I-I serve you…”

- Golden eyes widen, then narrow.  “Worship me…”  Cold, dark laughter rumbles within his chest.  “Show how much you have missed…”  Robotic fingers cups, pinch your chin hard in their durasteel grip.  “Craved my cum…”

- Leaning back on his throne.  Head tilted, resting on his fist.  Vader utters his next undeniable, unquestionable order.  “Now get to it, pet…”

- Happily you obey.  Lips pressing, showering his shaft in needy…desperate kisses.  Sucking on the veins that snake, spiral around it.  Greedily, hard enough to make them grow more prominent…turn a lovely shade of purple, a stark contrast compared to his pale skin.

- “Good girl…”  His words come out in a low, euphoric hiss.  A small praise that sends a thrill down your spine, straight to your aching core.  Puddle beginning to form and pool beneath your quivering body.  “What a good little whore…” 

- Doubling your efforts, you’re more than eager to please him.  Tongue kitten licking, lavishing, and moisturizing the scared skin in your saliva.  Cooing, practically purring as you lap up the stray salty, sweet…bitter, medicinal beads.  Tiny hands kneading, fondling his overly swollen, slick balls.  Humming at the warmth that radiates from them.

- “But I know you can do better…”  Invisible digits lace through, tangle in your hair.  Tugging you roughly forward, guiding your mouth to his drooling tip.  Rutting it lazily against, painting your face in a shimmering layer of his essence  “Can you not…”

- Parting your lips to reply, immediately you’re silenced by his head shoving between them.  Strangled, subdued squeaks slipping past his fat cock.  While you struggle, try frantically to take in as much of him as you can.

- “That’s right, let me hear all those pretty noises…”  Thrusting, rolling his hips.  Feral, almost animalistic groan spills out from behind his mask.  “The ones that only I can draw out of…”  When he drives himself deeper, further into your warmth.  Until your nose is flush with his chiseled abdomen, ports prodding and scratching at your forehead.  “Force you to make…”

- Tears sting at your waterline, roll down your cheeks.  Sack slaps heavily at your chin, sound of cum sloshing rings in yours ears.  Can feel him throbbing, twitching against the velvety walls of your throat.  Stomach bloating slightly from the pre that fills it.

- It’s all too much…oh so blissfully much.  You know he’s only moments away from bursting, from transforming you into his own personal cum ballon.  However…

- Abruptly he yanks you off.  Phantom presence pushes you backwards, pries and holds your jaw open.  Keeping you held in place, watching your master, your god pump his dick vigorously.  Twisted, maniacal look shining in his yellow orbs. 

- Letting out guttural moan, he spews forth like a hose.  Thick, milky globs douse and soaking you.  Slopping, washing over in heavy streams…more than what his whole platoon of his men could produce.  Valiantly you try to swallow what you can, nearly choking on the sheer volume.  The remainder drenching, covering you entirely.

- And once he has finally drained, emptied his balls.  Vader relaxes on his throne once more, mechno legs spread wide.  Staring upon, taking in the sight of your cum-soaked form.  Of your juices seeping out from under you, mingling with his own.  A mere drop compared to what is easily the small pound’s worth that now surrounds you.

- “Well done…  However, I advise that you do not challenge me again…  Less you rather drown or, perhaps, pop next time…”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @loverforoldermen, @anakinsbbgirl, @t03soup, , @vaderswifey, @jediavengers, @anakinstwinklebunny, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur, @juli007, @skyguy8108, @frogtowne, @jennasco, @nothinspecial1000, @burnthispls666, @dovepevensie, @xxxxxxctu, @abobiwan-kenobi, @kpopperotp12, @no-yes-maybe-so, @whoisgiinaa, @sflame15-blog

[synthient]

Matrix parallels aren't the only or primary lens to read this movie through. But I gotta do the special interest shuffle (spoilers for I Saw The TV Glow throughout):

We get at least one overt matrix reference, which is the bit where Owen's movie theater is showing a sci fi movie where humans have been driven underground after machines took over the surface

There's the obvious thematic overlap of "is reality real," "are my memories real," "to what extent is my reality shaped by information/entertainment technology," "is there an Outside to escape to," "would I want to if I could," etc.

The pods and the coffin. "What if I was something powerful and beautiful, suffocating"

There's also some interesting overlap with matrix 4 specifically re "what's the line between transition and suicide," "to what extent is transition a kind of death," to what extent is not transitioning a kind of death." Along with the general stuff around nostalgia and mythologized source materials and hauntology (a term Schoenbrun has used in interviews & that I first heard in a matrix 4 podcast, lmao)

The pods and the heart/luna juice sequence both posit Being Made To Live Like This as a visceral bodily violation

Tv glow is maybe more cynical about the possibility of a true Outside/alternative to the system. Though Zion turns out to not be fully "outside." And Maddy's vision (of a slightly more magical suburbia that still can't escape the confines of "the county") is probably supposed to be less The Only Vision, and more filtered through the lens of someone young and very early transition. Generally though, tv glow is much more focused on interiorty and personal transformation (or lack thereof) than overt politics, although a critique of capitalist suburbia is certainly the background radiation

Also interesting, I think, that "how does kitsch and 'bad art' shape our identity formation" becomes a central question of the later Wachowski oeuvre. And something that's always been present in their work--and has maybe been one of the most polarizing things for viewers--is the combo of "we want to make serious art, And we want to make the kitsch we adored growing up. at the same time." The pink opaque conceit perhaps manages to draw enough of a boundry between The Art and The Kitsch to head off some of the confusion and frustration re "how much of the kitsch is intentional, and how much is an attempt at serious art that failed"

The Family (and the whole concept of having loved ones to leave behind) is basically nonexistent in the matrix trilogy, and Just Evil Robots Don't Worry About It in 4. Tv glow gets much more into this. Though both the saintly mother & and the monstrous father equally serve to keep you trapped, in the end

Anyway. Perhaps the matrix has shaped the entire concept of "trans cinema" to the extent that you kind of have to engage with it on some level. Perhaps it's simply that We Are All Having The Same Thematic/Philosophical Preoccupations. All very interesting regardless, to me

[sashi-ya]

𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 yakuza! roronoa zoro x f! reader. [+𝟏𝟖]

❀ tw: MDNI. Would you like to serve a mafia boss like Zoro as his sugar baby? I would. car fucking. squirting. pure smut. creampie. I do not romanticise mafia, this is just fiction. ❀ wc: 1.3k

Who carries a katana nowadays?

Why, from all the men you could have fallen with, you chose him? Having an affair with a Yakuza should be the last thing to do for a young woman like you… and yet, there you are still, getting inside an all-black car, with armoured walls and windows.

Your tiny frame compared to his gets dragged to the back seat and then over his lap.

“New perfume, hm?” he asks, nuzzling on your neck.

Straight nose, lips a little cracked. Strong arms around your waist, pressing you down. Zoro, better known as the King of Hell around friends and foes,  needs to destress after a long day making business…

“You bought it for me, King of Hell” you mumble, almost robotically. You don’t want to commit any type of mistake… you are there, only and for one purpose; serve Roronoa Zoro with your body.

Truth is that you are scared of him, and yet, you can’t wait for the night to come to get absolutely destroyed by his demonic thrusts.

“Good girl… I thought of a special plan tonight. I kinda wanna have some fun, some drinks and perhaps fuck you anywhere I please” he says, so nonchalantly as he squeezes one of your breasts.

You jolt to his touch; you are used to this treatment. Is not disrespectful, he only does what the contract you signed stipulated.

The bumpy roads of the city he controls become a blessing for a shameless hardness growing underneath of your legs.

“I’m already getting hard, maybe we won’t get to the place without me filling that pussy with cum…” he whispers, with raspier sexy voice, in your ear. Zoro bites your neck soon after, owning a beautiful moaning coming from your lips.

“In fact, stand up” he commands, lifting you up from your waist. His strong arms can make his katana cut steel; you weight nothing to him.

The sound of his black pants zipper going down competes against the melody of your accelerated breathing. He wants to fuck you right there, in the car, with the chauffer a few centimetres from where you are. And the only things separating you from him is nothing but a black frosted plastic.

Slowly turning around, you see him pumping his dick to get ready for your walls. There isn’t much space, even if the car is pretty big, is just what it is. The windows have gotten pretty foggy already, your skin is burning.

“Com’ere” he orders, so impassively calmed, with a hand on his sex and the other one loosening his tie.

You nod, lifting the tiny skirt you are expected to wear, with of course, no panties underneath.

Biting your lower lip, you slowly get closer to his sex by sitting back into position.

However, Zoro has no time to lose, and he needs to feel your warmth around his shaft now.

Huge hands, with a thumb pretty calloused, squeeze your hips. “Sit down already” he grunts, pressing you violently against his lap.

Hardness that feels like the sharp of his katanas impaling you, makes you moan loudly. Some tears form in the corners of your eyes, and a mixture of pain and pleasure invade your body leaving your brain completely blank.

“Ugh, so tight! I just love to fuck you, little bitch” he growls, as he begins to pump inside you, deeper each time. Your legs hang on each side of his legs, without reaching the floor of the car. No matter how tall you are, you aint bigger than him.

Zoro lets go of your hips to invade your chest in between jumping buttons of a Gucci shirt he bought for you.

The erect part of your nipples, so sensitive, feels like the perfect place to pinch for him. He is rough, but precise. He knows exactly where to squeeze, where to pull too.

Your back lays over his prominent chest, and the interior of the vehicle smells like sex. His own body scent is stronger than any perfume… and it’s spellbinding to you.

As he keeps fucking you, you notice the car isn’t moving. The lights of Shibuya cross outside show that once again you are stuck in the typical rush hour of Tokyo. But he doesn’t care, nor you do.

“Spread those legs, bitch” he tells you, passing his hands from behind to your inner thighs. Mercilessly, Zoro spread them by carving his nails on your flesh.

He smirks, biting your shoulder with no delicacy. “What about ruining the upholstered, mh?” he laughs, still inside you and his hands in behind your knees to keep your legs open as much as he can. Your ass is also brought a little further, making his dick to fully hit your special spot with indescribable pressure and pleasure.

Your eyes open wide, your accelerated breathing; the shame in you too high to even let you say something.

The depraved yakuza wants you to cum all over the seat… why? Oh, cause he can. Cause he wants. Cause he have thousands of cars too. And also, because he despise his chauffer named Sanji… he wants him to clean the seats.

It takes Zoro a matter of seconds -and deadly thrusts- for you to experience in your guts the “losing control” feeling.

“I can feel you are throbbing around my dick, that means you are close… aren’t you? Come on, I want to see you so wet before I fill you up” he keeps whispering, low, with warm breath and some nibbling on the lobe of your ear.

You can only nod frantically, short of air, printing your palm on the foggy surface of the car window. “Yeh- yes… King of Hell…” you whine, feeling exactly what he described; an unstoppable throbbing that will soon lead you to explode.

He goes harder, even faster. Your eyes going white, a pressure building in your core and dripping fluids running through the sides of his caramel, veiny dick.

Zoro can sense the pressure pushing his sex out of your spasming walls. He keeps going, forcing it to keep growing inside your womb, trying to make your belly bloated from pressure and his thrusts. He wants your climax to be strong enough to push him out of you. And with his perfect demonic hips rhythm that doesn’t take longer to arrive…

“Zo-Zoro-sama!!!” you moan, loud enough to be heard by half Tokyo -not to mention by the chauffer-

“Come on, little bitch! Cum, now” he celebrates, allowing a big pushing spasm to make him slide out of you. As he predicted, you explode. Dripping, with a stream tinting in the soft red lights filtering through the foggy windows, getting everything around wet.

Your nails carved into the sides of his muscular thighs, as a sign of your body trying to grab for dear life not to pass out…

“FUCK, FUCK FUCK FUCK!” You repeatedly swear, making your green haired dom to laugh so pleased for your reaction.

And as you tremble, because of non-stoppable waves of climax, he impales your right back in.

This time, Zoro lets go of your legs, and now he pushes you against the plastic wall in front of you. Your cheek squeezed against it, seeing the blurry image of the driver through that not that private separation.

Zoro’s hands land on each side of your face, also pressed against the plastic. It cracks a little, yet it is able to hold both of your weights.

His back hits the roof of the car, and he doesn’t care. Zoro only wants to finish, and for that he will have to fuck you just a little longer.

Your inner thighs are completely dampened, and the once again penetration makes won’t allow you to rest. A state of constant climax has invade you, it isn’t stopping… you aren’t breathing properly, you aren’t even thinking straight.

Completely dampened in your fluids, you are about to be blessed with the sticky release of the man who posses you.

One of Zoro’s hands passes around your neck, gripping tightly to it. Big enough to grab it all, to squeeze it and make sure not a single molecule of oxygen reaches your lungs.

“I want you to walk inside the bar with my cum dripping down your legs, ok? My sweet little bitch?” he murmurs, causing you to shiver strongly than you have been until now.

“Ye-yes, Zoro-sama” “Good girl, I might wanna make you my wife after all… now… Hold. It. In. Until. We. Arrive…”

[cybunii]

YOU NEEDED LOVE, I NEEDED YOU !!

a/n: i got sad and wrote this LOL but people wanted a part two to the other one so i hope this one is just as good !!

pairing: Leon kennedy x Gn!reader

cw: sad leon, maybe ooc?

-

Leon didn't like being alone after he met you. 

He clung to you as soon as he met you, doing everything in his power just to get an ounce of your attention. It's almost like a puppy begging their owner for treats or toys, he needed you, it was simple.

He’d walk to the ends of the earth for you, maybe even haunting you after death.

Even if he was cranky, or didn't understand the little things you did. He still loved you with every single piece of him, his heart belonged to you. 

And that was enough. 

Holidays have always been odd for him, his work never let him off around these days and he's so used to all of the stress that comes with the job. 

He felt almost empty, or maybe useless. 

He put that energy into almost everything he did with you, helping with baking and decorating. Even taking the time to decorate the outside of the house. It made him feel content, at least it made you happy. 

After helping you bake the first time, he was practically hooked. One bite of the desert you made and his fate was sealed, you had baked his heart and served it up for him to eat. 

He didn't think he minded that thought that much, maybe it was self-destructive or obsessive- But he would let you do anything to him, then again cannibalism always had weird hints of romance in those books he picked up. 

Decorating was fun at times, your pushy nature about how certain things needed to be done made you seem cute. 

He didn't understand the hype behind real christmas trees or specific ornaments on them, then again he didn't celebrate christmas growing up. Not that he never wanted to, but Santa and presents were off the table from a very young age. 

The way the ornaments lit up when the lights were plugged in was stunning. 

He decided that was his favorite part, well maybe one of them. Seeing your face break out into a smile once you stepped back from the finished tree may as well be burned into his memory. He wished he could've taken a picture.

-

He knew the holidays would be different this year, he was warned about a dangerous mission about a week ago, and the possibility of him coming back was less than none. 

He didn't like those odds. 

Not that he feared death or his job, but the first thing that came to mind was you. I mean he fought for you, secretly laid on his deathbed a few times, and thought of coming home to you later. 

He could never tell them no though, who was he to go against them? He was at their beck and call, a mindless robot who goes on missions and returns with less and less of his sanity intact. 

You weren't the jealous type, or at least he didn't think you were. He could handle you hating him, but he didn't want to feel the hatred at the moment, coming up with a desperate plan at the last second. 

He used Ada as an escape plan, thinking chasing after a woman on christmas would make you hate him, that way it was easier for him to leave. 

You didn't give a reaction, just staring at him with a blank expression. 

Every silent minute felt like hours, the seconds slowly shattering his heart the longer he stood there. Not like you knew that, he had been trained to keep a straight face, this was nothing.

-

He knew what nothing felt like when he left you. Leaving out the door with nothing to his name, no car, no clothes, and absolutely no money. Only a throwaway phone he used. 

He didn't want to look back at you, even if you showed no reaction, he didn't want to break down crying at the sight of your blank face. 

His only destination was the location they gave him, punching the place in and groaning when its hours away. 

He made it there the next day and to his surprise? 

They no longer needed him, the mission was a success by some other agent who was able to get there quicker and finish the job. They didn't know what he did to get there, and quickly ushered him out, saying they'll call if they ever needed him for something else. 

If leaving you didn't break him, knowing he could've come back to you absolutely crushed him. I mean even to the point of dry heavy sobs in some random hotel that he managed to get a room at, grabbing at the sheets as the tears ran down his red face. 

He never was the type to show his true emotions, always bottling them up until they turned to anger wasn't exactly the best thing for him to do. 

They always led to moments like these, a bottle exploding under the pressure and going everywhere, unable to be fixed or glued back together. 

It took him hours to stop crying, only because nothing else would come out anymore. 

His puffy eyes and disheveled hair made him frown, he never was one to look so pathetic, at least not in these situations.

He just wanted to lay somewhere, letting all of his emotions out and not having to do anything else. He never was the best type to be alone, his thoughts never made it easy.

-

He never did leave the state, coming back to your town with the promise of a small job at some weird office. Didn’t matter to him, it made decent money. 

He was observant of his surroundings at all times, his broken heart controlling his eyes as he walked the town, hoping to even see just a glimpse of you. 

He never did. 

He wondered if you had moved away. 

He hoped you didn't, with enough money he didn't mind going everywhere to find you. There's no limit to what he would've done to find you. 

There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of you, or how sorry he was for leaving. He would look out the window at night just staring at the moon, hoping you were too, at least you'd be doing the same thing he was. 

That would be enough for him. 

With the extra money he had, he would just walk around the town for hours. Going to the most popular restaurants and parks. Supposedly those were fun things to do, but he knew he only went there because he went there with you. 

He couldn't even shop without thinking of you, buying the small snacks and not thinking about it until he got home, leaving them sitting in the cabinet for months because his mind tricked him you were still around. 

It was sad, and he knew that. 

It was heartbreaking to know christmas was next week. How had time slipped by him that fast?

He may not have had his own traditions, but he’d never forget what he did with you. Practically burning a hole in his wallet as he bought a real christmas tree, buying the same ornaments and lights, and every single ingredient for the stuff you baked. 

The finished tree never did look as pretty without your smile paired with it.

And the deserts tasted empty, it wasn't like they weren't good- But they could be so much better if you had made them. 

He had bought you something too. 

It may have been corny, and also pathetic- He seemed to like that word, being hard on himself had to be his favorite pastime at this point. 

But he bought you a ring, one you had pointed at on a random day saying you wanted it. It hadn't even been a week since you started dating when you said that, and he remembered it ever since. 

He was definitely using that memory for later. 

But now it sits under the bright, but also dull tree, the lights bouncing off the shiny wrapping paper. He dreamed of giving it to you, maybe even placing it in your mailbox with no return address. 

He decided that was creepy, a good call on his end.

He wasn't a stalker, maybe not in a bad way. 

That’s beside the point. 

He missed you that night, maybe more than any other night. His mind decided to be real nice to him that night, creating a dream of you being together again and being happy, celebrating christmas like old times. 

He may have woken up that next morning and bawled his eyes out, but that was okay.

It felt real to him. 

And that was enough for now. 

-

word count: 1.5k

[brittle-biscuits]

Why did I stay up late at night just to do this.

Basically: a concept of bags is that to me their twisted form usually reflects a character’s deepest desire for them but in a very twisted way. Lemme explain the designs here in alphabetical order (ooc warning!⚠️ Long Paragraphs):

Astro wants bags to accept his defect? Of having four arms, while also having a want to sleep with them at times, maybe forever, so I give bags a blanket, an insane look on their fake eyes(I forgot to add eyebags 😭), and a crescent moon with a sun thingy to show an eclipse(symbolising their need for sleep kinda), kinda forcing them to need to go to Astro for proper sleep, forcing reliance on him. The eyes on their hands just serve as something to put you off guard when hiding around them while the hooky things on their hinds serve as heels for support (they stumble cause of lack of rest)

Inspired by that anon who give Bobette’s costume for bags, I feel like we are quite literally a pretty gift for her, all to keep for her in a way. So the present wrapping veil is like a wedding thing and a gift wrapper obviously, while the horns are a reference to krampus (ironic). The boa? around their head is the same as twisted’s bobette’s furneck, which I tried to shape like a Christmas wreath, while the ribbons around their legs and wrists are referencing the costume, I added spikes to the back shins and that winter symbol on their front feet to show bobette’s want kinda. The puppet face thingy is inspired by Christmas dolls and Funtime robots.

Dandy probably wants us to be the same level as him in a way, so we are shaped to be somewhat big like him, so to make up his size, we make it up with speed, so I give bags several legs to add that creepy factor and show that speed while separating their head tentacles (mimicking Dandys petals). I purposely give them no harms to show how we have no control over how dandy transforms us in our twisted state. I added a tail to reference Shelly in a kinda subtle manner, like even when dandy likes us it’s clear we like Shelly more compared to him.

Pebble’s idea is innocent originally: he might like us like a parent figure, so I give bags a guard dog look with multiple legs for creepy factors again. They’re about as big as twisted coal but make up size once again with speed, along with really far sight range (better than pebble’s). They are more animalistic than the rest of their other twisted forms, adopting pebble’s mannerisms in a way and overall just being more unpredictable now, especially with guarding pebble.

You know that interaction with Shelly about the ankylosaurus? Yep, your now one (in a way…) instead of normal armour plates you now have spikes? I used spikes since I heard therepods have them and twisted Shelly is said to be based of a therepod so I used them. I also kinda give them a half-transformation like Shelly where their upper torso is somewhat intact (only the arms and chest are perfect). They are as slow as coal normally but will throw their tail around when agitated, but most of the time their docile unless attacked.

Sprout’s influential form is -tall-. Like the tallest amongst all the twisted forms, I give them a plant bulb on their head to include how sprout is kinda ‘growing’ on them, like getting attached to them (in his own way.) His seeds are basically growing inside us as if we are getting sucked by his ‘love’, the worms do not help whatsoever (worms in my stomach reference(when your nervous and stuff)) the long arms are just vines that are outgrown but act as sensors for nearby toons stepping in their space (in this form their blind).

Vee’s desire is a mantis, like you know when mantises mate the female it’s the male? Thats us and vee, but a thing to note is that we are smaller than her twisted form. More so bending to shellys height, we have a microphone tail to copy her while the false face kinda serves as a lure for prey (does NOT work on vee) Our antennas are like insect ones but the bulbs are like the same like Vee’s. I made this design since it’s based on the fan costume Co-host and that part where we are her ‘star’. (Literally.)

I’ll try to cook for more but I’m tired but if you came here this long then congrats for reading the whole thing without annoyance.

While these are interesting, the looks would have to be simplified down so hard to fit the aesthetic of the game.

[genderstormwrites]

Punch-clock maid tf

Clock in and leave your old self and thoughts at the door, feel your outfit turn into a slutty maid’s as you become focused on cleaning everything

Clock out and leave feeling happier and lighter, anticipating the next shift

(Aka fuck capitalism lemme maid mode with no chronic pain)

*tick tick tick tick*

The incessant sound of the clock pendulum swinging as you enter the warm foyer, sheltered from the bitter cold outside, scratches at your mind in the most pleasant way. Somehow, in the past several months, the sound that once grated on your nerves now served to soothe and invite you in. After taking your coat off and hanging it next to the other coats on the wall, you crossed the room to grab your card, a thin slip of paper with dozens of stamped dates and times on it.

*tick tick tick tick*

Such a familiar sound, already causing your heartbeat fall in line. Your movements and footsteps seemed to align with the ticking of the clock as you approached it. Holding the punch card out, you slid it into place and...

*kchnk*

instantly your body shuddered as the stamp pressed into your card, marking a perfect start of your shift, on the hour, just as you did every day. All at once your body seized up, suddenly heavy and sluggish.

*tick tick tick tick*

The sound of the clock carried such a weight that seemed to hold you in place. Your joints felt heavy, your eyelids fluttering, and with every second your clothing weighed on you more. But even as that sensation grew, your clothing began to change. Your mass produced jeans and t-shirt rippling and shifting into light, soft ruffles and long billowing fabric. The soft caress of nylon up your legs soon hugged your hips as a ruffled, layered dress cascaded down around your upper thighs. The loose, baggy polyester of your shirt pulled inward, tightening and hardening into a corset that pushed your chest up and your waist in, a white, frilled apron flowing over it. Framing your chest to display your growing cleavage, the top of the dress materialized with poofy shoulders and miniscule straps, a small ribbon bow holding the two sides together across your chest with another wrapping gently around your neck to match.

*tick tick tick tick*

And as the physical transformation concluded, the soft and sexy maid outfit settling comfortably around your body, the familiar mental effects settled in. The ticking overwhelmed your thought, casting aside anything you had previously been thinking of and relieving any stress you had carried in with you. Soon, only thoughts of cleaning and serving the head of the household filled your mind, swirling in harmonious bliss alongside the firm guiding hand of the ticking clock. Gradually, your joints seemed to move, as though guided by the rigid ticks of the clock. Robotic movements that set you on the beginning of your day, making your way into the mansion and ascending the staircase to the master's office.

*tick tick tick tick*

Even with the clock out of earshot, its pendulum guided you up into place as you stood ready for your master's appraisal. As with every morning, she greeted you kindly as you entered her office, though your voice could only parrot the same response day in and day out. "Thank you, Master. I am at your service." She crossed the room to great you, hands reaching out to caress your soft body and send shivers down your spine.

"Now, my lovely maid. Why don't we wind you up for the day?"

Her question needed no response, as she produced a key from her pocket and gently pressed it against your back. The cold metal pressed against your skin and slowly you felt it rotate. Though the metal simply glided over your skin, it felt as though it ran much, much deeper. The inner mechanics of your body, woven by the ticking of the clock, whirred with excitement as the Master's key wound you up for the day. You could feel your movements become less mechanical, far more fluid and graceful. Your mind at ease as every task before you fell into place, your body and mind perfectly aligned to take on the day in service to the Master.

"There you are. All wound up and ready to clean, aren't you, my lovely maid?"

"Yes Master, I am ready to clean and serve."

"Very good. Then after you finish cleaning the downstairs and prepare lunch, why don't you come up and clean my bedroom for me. You've done so much to earn such a privilege."

Blushing and unable to hide your smile, you nodded. "As you wish, Master."

And the Master smiled, planting a kiss on your forehead, and ushered you off to begin your day.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 15: A Gallagher (Happy Birthday Charlotte Part 2)

Note: Helloooo! I'm backkk! Thank you for all of the love and appreciation you all have been showing this story. I took a break and now, it's time to get into act two, married life with Lip and Charlotte. As always I love the interaction and am extremely inspired by it so thank you for all of the reblogs, notes, and messages. It's a short one while I get back into the swing of things, but I'm excited for what's next. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Love ya! <3 MDNI!!!!!

Warnings: Mild sexual content, strong language

“Go ahead, baby.” Lip says smugly, his head cocked back in arrogance as Charlotte bounces up the steps, keys jangling in her hands as she twists open the lock.

“It’s…it works, s’ours?” she gasps, whipping her head to look back at them. 

He follows her up the steps at a slower pace, relishing in her happy squeal when he lifts her into his arms and carries her inside. The place is big, but not too big. There was room to spread out. To grow. It looks like what she’d described to him, her dream starter house. Maybe it was smaller. A townhouse and not a big four floor home like the one she was used to. But it was the one she pictured them in.

“Ready? Go ahead and press it, babe.”

The little junkyard robot (if you can call it that) whirs to life and starts spinning in circles in the small space Lip and Charlotte had cleared on the floor. Charlotte gasps and leans forward, leaving Lip’s chest cold as her back bends to look at the little invention closer. “He’s like a real robot. That’s so cool, bubba.”

“He’s a piece of shit model. Lost me a hundred bucks when I took him to one of those fights, embarrassed the fuck outta me.” 

“Aww, he’s so cute though. Like Wall-E.” Charlotte hums, poking at the moving scraps and smiling as the machine rolls backward again. She turns to face Lip, shifting in his lap while wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re so smart.”

“Yeah?” he leans in, lips just a breath away from hers, cheek dimpling with his smirk. “Say it again.”

“No, your head already too big”

“Yeah, okay, c’mere.” he grunts, pulling her weight completely against himself, trapping her with his arms as his fingers start tickling her sides, dodging her flailing limbs. “Say, ‘Phillip, you’re so smart.’”

“Ph-phillip-” she giggles, catching his hands in her own and lowering them to her waist, rolling her eyes as she feels their descent to her ass. She brings her own hands up to his cheeks, rubbing his nose with her own before pecking his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he murmurs, blue eyes locked on brown as he leans forward to capture her lips again. 

A crash sounds from downstairs and the pair jolts apart, Charlotte immediately crawls out of his lap and holds her hand out to him to help him off of the ground, only to squeak when he tugs her back against him. “Leave it, Fi and Ian are home.”

“Yeah, but, if we don’t check they’ll come up soon to get us anyway.”

It’s true. Lip thinks through all of the times people have just barged in on him and Charlotte. His siblings. Frank. Monica. V or Kev. The cops. He’s realized for the first time that he’s tired of it. 

Obviously, it's not the first time that he’d considered the concept of privacy with the thousands of children Monica and Frank dump off here, the constant inward and outward flow of fuck buddies until Charlotte and Mickey and the tendency of people to just run up into their house with no consideration. He’d come to the conclusion that he needed to escape numerous times. College was one. His professor’s house was another. Hell, sometimes depending on how old he was, his little stints with foster families when CPS got wise to their living conditions served as a nice little break from his family. Ultimately, Lip was not new to the idea of trying to get away. But he’d never thought of it in this way before. Never where he had someone he wanted to take with him. 

“Hey, Bunny?”

“Hm, yes, baby?” 

He glances away for a moment, willing away the blush that forms on his face when she says stuff like that. “You, uh, you ever think about where you wanna live?”

Charlotte tilts her head in confusion, absently brushing something off of his cheek as she thinks over his question. “What, like choosing between here and V’s?”

“No, like, when…uh when we move. Just us.” The girl damn near headbutts him. Her hair smacking his face as she buries her face into his chest, making a shriek-like noise and kicking her feet against his legs. “Uh, what the fuck?”

She lifts her head with a smug look on her face poking at Lip’s forehead, “You wanna live with me?”

His brows furrow as he smooths his thumb over the spot on her forehead she’d hit his chest with, “Fuckin’ careful, gonna knock yourself out. We already live together-”

“But it’s not enough.” Charlotte sings, continuing to poke at him. “You want me to yourself. That’s so cute.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Lip laughs, smacking her ass with one hand, pushing off of the floor with the other and lifting her with him, walking them over to the bed with one of her legs dangling as he carries her with his arm hooked under the other. “I take the question back.”

“Nuh uh,” she hums, grunting a little as he drops her onto the mattress, pretending to ignore his hands sliding up her shirt. “You put the offer on the table. I want our house to be green.”

Lip stops and looks down at her as she smiles up at him softly. Keeping one hand on her chest, he slides into the bed behind her, resting his head next to hers. “Yeah? What else?”

“Phillip.” Charlotte pouts, turning back to her husband after taking in the room. There’s no furniture, but it’s decorated with little lights and a blanket and pillows on the floor along with all types of different kinds of snacks and more flowers. 

“Uh…I figured you’d wanna get the furniture with me. And…we’re gonna have to wait until our next paychecks to get some. But…uh, I had Ian and Mickey help me set this shit up. And then I kicked em out because…Mickey’s an asshole and wanted to control everything. He’s into this shit you know…but…um…happy birthday, Charlotte.”

Charlotte continues to gape at him in disbelief. Her eyes are wide, mouth opening and closing. She’s speechless as she stares at the man in the doorway. 

“You, uh, you like it?”

It’s a good thing he can carry her. Because the way she launched herself at him with no warning would’ve brought someone else to the floor. Instead he relaxes in her hold, wrapping his arms around her waist as she wraps her legs around his. 

Smoothing her hands over his blond curls, Charlotte looks at Lip. Really looks at him. She gives him that look only she’s ever been able to deliver him. The one he works for every time he busted his ass at work, or chose to skip out on getting a beer. Scraped together every spare penny he had for that look. “I love you.” she breathes, smiling at him. “You gave me a house.”

“You…you gave me a home so…it was the fuckin’ least I could do.”

All Charlotte could do is bury her face in his shoulder. 

But it was true. She saved him, gave him a purpose. She made Lip want to be a man. One that his family deserved. One that deserved her. 

“Wow.” 

Lip glances over at his sister from his spot in the empty kitchen, closing the fridge door before making his way over to her. “You like it?”

“This is…really nice, Lip.” Fiona slowly makes her way through the pace, peeking her head into the bathroom. “You can afford this?”

The blond shrugs noncommittally, crossing his arms. “Close enough. I never gave Charlotte’s dad back the money, and I’ve got my promotion, plus the money she and I have saved up…we’ll be straight.”

“Good. Good.” Fiona hums, looking around the room. She rolls her lips inward, taking a deep breath. “That’s good, Lip.”

Lip’s eyes narrow as he watches his sister’s demeanor as she takes in the extremely large decision he made and immediately feels a wave of insecurity wash over him. “Fuckin’ what?”

“What?”

“Why’re you actin’ like that? All…like what you don’t think she’ll fuckin’ like it? Or…or-”

“She’ll like it! Jesus! What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?!” Lip huffs, dragging his hands over his face. “Like, you think I messed up or somethin’?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I’m proud of you, asshole!” his sister whips around to face him, pale face flushed pink as she sniffs, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m…I’m really fuckin’ proud of you.”

Lip stops, feeling the anger and embarrassment he had building drain from his body as it turns into concern for his eldest sister. He slides onto the wooden floor, leaning his back against the island and quietly pats the spot on the floor next to him. “And?”

Fiona sighs, dropping her purse to the side before slipping into the spot next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m really proud of you and…it should be me.”

Lip nods silently as he digs in his pants pocket and pulls out a pre-rolled blunt he’d been keeping to celebrate with Ian later. Fiona needs it more. Flicking his lighter to life he christens the townhome with the scent of weed, praying the neighbors wouldn’t complain before he even got to move Charlotte in. “‘Kay.”

“Like,” Fiona sniffs, grabbing the blunt and taking a deep drag. “I feel like all of a sudden you’ve got this normal ass life. Got a wife, a house, a real job. And I’m still here, still working bullshit jobs, still taking care of kids that aren’t mine, still fuckin’ the same losers-”

“Uh, that one guy had some money right? The uh…the drug addict’s brother? Jimmy-” Lip adds, glancing at her out of the side of his eye to see if he’d effectively lightened the mood.

Fiona nudges him with her shoulder, passing the blunt back. “Dude, fuck you, for real.” 

Lip chuckles, nudging her back before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “But uh…for real, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t have been able to get here without you, like caring about us not bein’ complete hoodrats growin’ up. So…um…thanks.”

The brunette looks at her brother with an amused grin, shaking her head as she takes in the man before her, barely able to recognize him as the snot nosed little brat that used to get the shit kicked out of him at the playground for conning kids out of their ice cream money in order to get them one to share. “God, you better hope you never fuck things up with her. Wasn’t me. That girl raised your ass.”

The pair spends the night wrapped in each other. They eat in their new house and it feels surreal. The quiet. The comfortability. For the first time since they got married, they got to feel like husband and wife, not two teenagers with promise rings shacking up in their parents’ house.

They make love on top of the blankets on their living room floor, sharing air and clutching each other close. The only sound echoing in the empty house is their heavy breathing and there’s no sense of urgency.

And when they’re done they shower, peacefully and in hot water.

As he watches his wife drift off to sleep next to him, his body serving as a cushion for her from the hardwood floors all he can think about is how maybe all of the shit he tolerated earlier in life was to prepare him to really be able to appreciate this.

“You’re gonna live here?” Debbie frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares up at her oldest brother. 

“Uh, yeah, Debs, me and Charlotte are gonna be stayin’ here from now on.”

The day after Charlotte’s birthday the couple invited the remaining Gallagher siblings, Mickey, Kev and V over to see their new place. They were all sworn to keep the new address a secret from Frank and Monica if she ever rolls into town again. Some of their family members were taking the news of the move better than others.

Debbie loves Charlotte. She’s the girly, fun older sister vibe that she’s always wanted. While she loves Fiona, she’d always acted more as a mother figure than a sister, so she couldn’t necessarily be the fun one. But the real heartbreak was Lip. Debbie had always been a Lip girl. Carl had Fiona, Debbie had Lip, that was the way it worked. How could he help her with her homework, or pick her up from the bus stop everyday from out here? 

She’d been glad he’d gotten a girlfriend at first. She was nice, and pretty and made Lip nicer. And happier. She didn’t think she ever saw Lip smile as much as when he was with Charlotte. And then he married her and it was even better. But now…now it felt like Lip was becoming a part of something that had nothing to do with the rest of them.

“Great, so Lip gets to take Charlotte and gets to move out of our shit house, what do the rest of us get?” Carl huffs, kicking a box that was clearly marked ‘Lip’s shit’ causing the vein in his brother’s neck to pop. 

“Make your own damn money, how about that, shithead.” Lip slaps the back of his brother’s head before picking up a box and carrying it into the kitchen. 

Distantly he could hear Charlotte promising the kids that they would get to visit the house all of the time and that she and Lip will visit them so often it’ll feel like they hadn’t moved at all. He rolls his eyes to himself in some fake showing of irritation, but is inwardly proud to be with someone so kind to his siblings.

They’d moved the bed they shared at V and Kev’s house to theirs early this morning. So, now, they officially had one singular piece of furniture. They plan to work their way to getting more as time develops, mainly because Charlotte was not okay with looking over the shit people had thrown away before it hit the junkyard. Lip had tried to explain to her that it wasn’t technically trash until it got there, but she was strongly against it. 

Kev gifted them a hot tv that one of his customers dragged into the bar about a month ago and was currently mounting the small screen in their living room. The place was sort’ve coming together. At least to their standards.

Lip’s siblings stay for a couple hours and decide to head home when the second bus heads out. As Fiona slings Liam’s diaper bag over her shoulder and Ian picks him up, Charlotte and Lip exchange a look.

“Hey, uh, Fi, can we talk to you really quick?”

Fiona places the bag down, shrugging “sure.” before following Lip and Charlotte into the kitchen. The latter pushes her way up to sit on the counter and Lip stands between her legs, her hands resting on his chest as he leans back into her, facing his sister. “What’s up?”

Lip hesitates slightly. He knows this topic is gonna piss her off. He rolls his tongue in his cheek as he thinks about how to approach the conversation in the least damaging way possible, rubbing his thumb along Charlotte’s thigh for comfort. “We uh, has CPS reached out yet?”

“Not yet.” Fiona starts, tucking her hair behind her ear, wrapping her arms around herself. “The house is…pretty cleaned up, so as long as Hurricane Frank doesn’t hit before they come we should be alright this time. But, uh, when they come I’ll call you.”

“Right, we were thinking. That um,” Lip sucks in a breath, scrubbing down his face before deciding fuck it he was gonna have to get it out sometime. “Maybe, maybe Liam should stay with us for a while. We talked about it yesterday, and we’ve got room for ‘em so-”

“Why?”

There it was. The kicked puppy, ‘are you tryin’ to say I’m not doing a good job’ look that he wanted to avoid. And now here come the dramatics.

“Fi-” he sighs.

“No. No, why would he stay with you? He’s been perfectly fine with me at our house. You’ve got this place for like, two seconds and you already think you’re better than somebody?” 

Lip can feel the irritation building under his skin. His jaw works as he breathes out heavily and he feels Charlotte’s hand tug lightly on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“It was just a thought, Fiona.” Charlotte cuts in. “Phillip is his legal guardian right? We just thought it might make things easier for the CPS visit. Easier on everyone, you know? We just wanna help.”

Fiona’s lips twist as if she was forcing herself to hold her tongue. She opts for shaking her head, moving away from the pair to leave the kitchen. “Help yourselves. That’s what Lip wants to do anyway.” 

As the couple hears the rest of their family be ushered out of the house and the door slam behind them, Charlotte pulls Phillip to her, placing his face in her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

The man sucks his teeth and shrugs. “Yeah, she’s just dealin’ with shit. She’ll get over it. She’s sensitive about the whole, me being Liam’s legal guardian thing and now she’s being a bitch about it.”

Charlotte nods, with an easy smile. “Yeah, but I mean with all of it. You’re moving out of your family home. Away from your younger siblings. It’s different, and I wanna make sure you don’t feel like…rushed or somethin’.”

“Bunny, I’m the one who got us the house. I’m fine. That’s my old life, right? This is my new one. I’m startin’ it with you.” Lip smiles, pulling her into a kiss and tugging her off of the counter, holding her up by her ass as she wraps her legs around him. “Now we have to find places to fuck in this house that we couldn’t living with all 5,000 Gallaghers.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes as Lip flips her up onto his shoulder, landing a loud smack on her ass. “My prince charming.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ better be, I bought you a damn house!” 

“Ha! How long are you gonna milk that?”

Lip meant what he’d said about starting a new life with Charlotte. 

It was the one thing he still believes her father was right about. He’d have to choose. Not to cut off his siblings and old life completely, but he couldn’t stay the way he was and be with Charlotte. He couldn’t have the life he wanted. He didn’t even know that he could live like this. 

Good, happy homes were things of fairy tales in the Gallagher house just like unicorns and magic wands. Nothing was gonna happen to make their lives better, they just had to make do. It was a hard lesson they all learned. Hell, Debbie was starting to see now. You work, grind, steal, and have small bursts of mania where you get to taste happiness, and then you fall hard. And Monica and Frank show up to trip you on your way down to make your fall even harder.

Even when Charlotte showed up, she was the lone beam of light in the otherwise deep pit he was born into. He didn’t know there was anything else. Until he started to set a routine in this new life with Charlotte.

Somehow, waking up at 7:30 to get ready for work was easier for Lip when he was with her. Don’t get him wrong, was he a morning person? Absolutely fucking not. But, having his sexy wife laying in bed next to him, waking him up with kisses and the occasional handjob definitely helped. 

“Goodmorning.” she whispers, kissing him again. 

Lip smooths his hand along her jaw and just stares up in awe that this is what he wakes up to. That they can have moments like this, where there’s nothing else, no one else. Just them. 

He’s at peace, spending the first few minutes of his day running his hand from the nape of Charlotte’s neck to her ass as she lays on his chest and rambles about what the fuck ever. The girls at one job or the other. Something crazy V was doing. Some tv show that it was apparently a crime he hadn’t seen. 

She doesn’t try to force him to talk, knowing he’s not into talking early in the morning. He just wants her next to him. He just wants her there.

By 7:40 she’s dragging out of bed, despite his loose grip trying to pull her back into it. “Bubba, shower, you have to leave soon and I wanna have time to eat breakfast together.” she pouts. 

He raises a brow, resting his arm behind his head. “Gonna be careful this time?”

Charlotte huffs, flipping him off with her bandaged middle finger. One of three injuries she’s sustained since they now have a stove that actually gets hot. 

Lip chuckles as he watches her storm down the hallway and start jogging down the steps. “I’m rubbin’ off on you!”

“Yeah, that’s the only rubbing that’s gonna be going on around here, jerk.”

Shaking his head he actually gets up and showers. And its fuckin’ wild. There’s hot water. He doesn’t have to wait 30 minutes for it to come and hurry up and scrub before it turns cold again. He doesn’t have to call out to go first and race to get there anyway. He either goes first, because Charlotte heads in later than him or they shower together. Lip can take his time but he doesn’t because he knows there’s food downstairs. It won’t be spoiled. It won’t be stolen. Maybe a little burnt if Charlotte hurts herself again. And he doesn’t have to pretend he’s not hungry after grabbing his plate because he can see there’s not enough for his little siblings to eat. 

Maybe Charlotte’s dad was right, there’s something to be said about choosing to move on with the person you’re in love with. Maybe there’s a reason normal people move out and get married and only see their original family once or twice a year. Maybe Lip thinks he is better than someone, everyone in the fucking hood he grew up in and God or whatever else was overlording his bullshit life up until this point finally decided he deserves more. And so they gave him his fucking wife. And now all he needs to do is not fucking look back. 

So he doesn’t. He moves on. Just him and Charlotte. Aside from a few texts with Ian, who was very understanding about Lip’s new resolve to move on from their shit filled lives, he was disconnected from everything Gallagher. A full two weeks go by without him visiting their old shack of a house. Fiona never calls and the only Lip thinks to miss is the kids. 

Charlotte thought the whole situation was bullshit.

“Hey, bubba, you spoke to any of your brother’s and sister’s today?” She asks, leaning in the doorframe to their bedroom. Lip is sitting criss-crossed on the floor, using the laptop the company gave him to get some work done that he hadn’t finished earlier. He doesn’t look up from the laptop as he holds his arm out, scooting the electronic to one leg so Charlotte can sit on the other. 

She perches herself on his leg, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and leaning her head on his. “Uh nope. What do you want for dinner?”

“Hmm,” she hums, nuzzling her nose into his cheek. “For you to call your sister?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Charlotte.” 

“I know you miss them. Moving out doesn’t mean cutting ties!” 

“Yep, off.” He says, lifting her up and off his lap, placing her on the floor next to him. “It’s normal to grow up and not see your siblings every fuckin’ day, Charlotte.”

“Yes, but this is a tantrum, Phillip. There’s a difference.” She huffs, watching him put a headphone in, snatching it back out.

“I’m working.”

“We’re talking, Phillip!”

“No, you’re fuckin’ yelling.” Lip sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “But if you want to have a serious conversation, we could talk about your jobs.”

“Again.” Charlotte rolls her eyes, flopping back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I mean you’re still working there so…”

“It helps, Phillip. And I like the people there.” 

“Oh my fucking god, yes,” Lip snaps the laptop closed, standing and crossing his arms. “Please, baby, tell me how much you like the limp dick perverts that come to your jobs to eyefuck you.” 

“I’m not talking about them and you know that.” Charlotte grumbles, grabbing the blanket from the bottom of the bed and tugging it over her head. “You’re being mean and I’m just trying to help you.” she muffles. 

“Fuckin’” Lip grits his teeth, taking a deep breath before sitting on the edge of the bed, resting his forehead where he knows her stomach is. “I’m sorry baby, you married a dick.”

“I know.”

“You know,” he laughs, leaning more weight on her and scoffing at her ‘oof’. “You callin’ me heavy or something?”

“It’s…like…an…elephant is stepping on me.”

“Fuck you.” he chuckles. Lip pulls lightly at the blanket. “Look at me, Bunny?” The blanket folds down and Charlotte gives him her big brown eyes, staring up at him. “Baby, I fuckin’ love that you love my family, despite the absolute shit storm that they are. But I’ve spent my life dealin’ with that shit. I’m fuckin’ tired of beggin’ and crawlin’ back to the clusterfuck I was born into. I’m fuckin’ tired, Bunny. This is the family I wanna focus on. Us, baby.”

She smiles at that, smoothing her thumb over his lips, squealing when he lightly bites the digit with his teeth. “Ow, okay, jackass. Stop being cute.”

“Where did you get that goddamn language from? Shit.”

Lip looks up from the small television as his ears hone in on the sound of Charlotte’s slippers shuffling across the wooden floor. His girl comes into view with an absent look on her face. She’d finished doing her hair, the long black silk now split into a half up half down. Her body is covered (barely) by her short, white tank top dress.

They had people over. Charlotte had insisted that Lip at least try to make friends with the guys from work if he refused to mend the bridge between him and his siblings and start hanging out with them again. After a lot of whining, nagging and actual kicking, Lip promised to invite the guys to their new house to watch the game.

The guys from work were trying to be respectful. He could give them that. Whether it be because they know about what happened with Eric or because they genuinely are trying to be his friends, as she skips into view, her thighs shining in the light from the lamp, the short dress fighting to cover her ass, they all work to fix their eyes onto the screen.

“Phillip?” she says sweetly, slipping an arm around his neck and hopping into his lap, blindly trusting him to catch her. He obviously does. 

“Yes, baby?” He tugs her dress down as he brings her legs over his so she can sit more comfortably.

“Are you hungry?” She sighs, pushing his hair back, smiling when his eyes slip closed lightly as her fingers scratch his scalp. “I’m hungry.”

“Uh, no baby, m’not hungry, but uh-”

She lets out an annoyed, high pitched whine that has Lucas’ eyes darting over briefly. Come on Luc, I fuckin’ like you, hold it down. “Are your friends hungry?”

Lip peaks around her to address them, brows raised and is quickly met with several panicked versions of ‘no thank you’ ‘I already ate’ and ‘my girlfriend will kill me if I eat without her.’ “Charlotte, just eat those leftover noodles we made earlier and when the game’s over I’ll take you somewhere.”

She huffs again before leaning in and meeting Lip in a kiss, he had never realized how noisily they kissed until they were in front of other people. When she fully pulls away to pad off into the kitchen, a final smack sounds in the room that has his cheeks reddening and his hand refraining from patting her ass like he normally would.

Charlotte moving around in the kitchen doesn’t serve as a problem. She’s not loud and seems to be perfectly satisfied just preparing her snack and chilling by herself. Lip is temporarily able to focus on the game again, talking to Noah about how it’s number 9’s retirement year and how they need this win to stay in the season. 

“Yeah, but he’s a fuckin’ idiot, they’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re watchin’ Gallagher, let him make the play and…”

Lip waits for Noah to finish his argument, ready to scoff at whatever bullshit response he has but it never comes. He looks around at the other guys to see them all watching something over his head. He turns, following their gaze over to the counter. “Fuckin’ shit.”

There’s his wife, sitting on their counter with not a care in the world. Her dress riding up, the flesh of her thighs spread on the cool countertops. Her head tossed back, eyes closed, mouth open and tongue out as she slurps down the noodles as if it was the first meal she’d had in days, stopping only briefly in between to pop her fingers into her mouth to suck up the fallen droplets of broth. Jesus Christ could he even blame them? 

He hops out of his seat as fast as his legs can carry him, blocking her from his guests' view. “Charlotte, c’mon baby, what’re you doin’?”

Her brows furrow as she fixes him a confused look, she swallows the noodles in her mouth and scoops more up with the chopsticks. “What? You said I could have ‘em, you wanted some?” she offers sweetly, bringing the food to his lips.

“Why are you eating on the counter?” He whisper yells, dragging her closer to him.

“You and your friends are in the only seats, where else was I supposed to go?”

“The bed?”

“I don’t wanna get food in there!” 

“I’d have given you a seat!”

“Or you could take me to pick out more chairs.” she hums, slurping the noodles he still hadn’t accepted into her mouth, moaning dramatically as she eats them. And then it hits him. “With my paycheck. From my job.”

“You little fuckin’ brat.”

“A brat who’s getting new chairs?”

Lip points his finger in her face, pushing her forehead gently. “You’re fucking irritating.” 

“I love you too.” She chirps, hopping down off of the counter. “M’gonna let you hang out with your friends. Go see what our family is up to. You want me to bring you anything back or…?”

“Just keep your purse close.” He mumbles.

Charlotte rolls her eyes, making a big show of kissing her husband before walking out of the door.

“Thanks for coming out to meet me. I know you have to work later.” Charlotte sips her water, running her finger along the cool condensation. “I’m really sorry about what happened a couple weeks ago, Fi.”

Fiona kicks Charlotte’s leg lightly. “I told you, stop apologizin’. I don’t blame you just because you’re my prick brother’s wife. I just don’t know where that kid gets off, you know? Acting like I can’t take care of our siblings, like I always have. I raised that little asshole too.”

Charlotte fidgets in her seat at that. While she still agrees it may be good for Liam to come live with her and Phillip, she also understands why the idea would hurt Fiona. Instead of arguing with the girl she just frowns and decides to address what she came for. “I understand that it’s not all on you or anything, but, don’t you feel like it’s been a while since you guys have talked?”

“Mm, not the longest we’ve gone.” Fiona says nonchalantly, eating a couple fries.

“But, don’t you guys miss each other?”

“Look, Lottie, Lip is being a fuckin’ Gallagher. He’s got something good goin’ right now so he’s jumping ship. Logging off, taking some vacation time from the job that it is to be part of this family. We all do it. Get high and mighty when we have something good we can latch onto.” She takes a sip of her soda before crossing her arms. “He’ll be back.”

“When?” Charlotte asks, shifting forward. “I know he misses you guys. I know you guys miss him. What about the younger kids?”

“This is what they know. Gallaghers get another offer and fuckin’ dip. And then we come crawling back when we absolutely fucking tank whatever good thing we had going. And the other Gallaghers know that we have to take them back.” Fiona sighs, resting her chin in her hand. 

“But…what we have isn’t going to end.” Charlotte says. “This time…this time aren’t you guys gonna have to learn how one of you can be happy and still keep a relationship with the rest of you?”

Fiona stares at Charlotte from across the table, lips pursed. The rational side of her brain tells her it’s true. It tells her that her little shithead brother was changing and evolving. That he’s a man now, with a family, and their dynamic would have to change if they were going to stay in each other’s lives.

But the other part of her still has doubts. It knows that Lip is Monica and Frank’s son at the end of the day. He’s a Gallagher. They break what they touch. Property, promises and people. As much as she loves Charlotte, she can only think it’s a matter of time before he fucks up and she leaves or he drags her down with him. As far as Fiona was concerned, Lip was playing house, and the game had to end eventually.

“Fuckin’ nasty.” Lip sneers, dumping the collection of beers his coworkers had left in the living room. Now that he has a generally clean house, it was easier to notice when it’s dirty. Dumping the trash bag next to the counter and making a mental note to take it out before Charlotte got home and made a big deal about it before dramatically tripping over it and declaring that Lip tried to kill her, Lip pulls his phone from his pocket. She’s been gone for a while.

His stomach grumbles and he decides to text her to see if she ever got around to getting food or if she wanted him to make her something too when he fed himself. He’d have to feed her before he dragged her to bed and taught her why she shouldn’t tease him while his horny, idiot coworkers are interloping in their home. 

As he’s sending the message the doorbell rings and Lip snorts. Taking his sweet old time as he shuffles over to the door. “Oh, someone forgot their fuckin’ keys again, huh, Bunny?” He smugly cracks his neck before pulling open the door, “How’re you gonna thank me for lettin’ you in, huh?”

“I…I just really needed to see you.”

Lip’s eyes shoot open and he immediately takes a step back in shock, almost reflexively slams the door shut. 

“Wh-Mandy what the fuck?”

[elen-benfelen]

welsh remus guide pt.1

As a casual marauders fan (if such a thing exists lmao), I’ve noticed a growing love/interest towards Remus being Welsh and exploring what this means regarding accent, mannerisms and language. Seeing Welsh being butchered by the use of google translate, whilst understandable that people would turn to it, is actually physically painful at times. And so!! I’ve decided to start collecting some language tips and bits of info to help anyone who wants to Welshify their Remus. The source? My upbringing as a first language Welsh speaker in South-West Wales.

The most popular head canons I’ve seen, some based on scraps of info from canon, is that Remus is either South Walian (specifically South-East Wales - aka the Cardiff area) or North Walian. I’ve only lived in North Wales for just under a month so I have a rough idea of NW slang but I’m no expert. I have lived in Cardiff for about 3 years so I have a stronger grasp on broad South Walian slang.

This is to say - I will try and give words and bits of info I think would be useful to know but my ask box is always open to more specific questions. I’m also a nerd towards the Welsh language so this is going to be an unnecessarily deep dive into it.

First Lesson

Gogs - North Walians

Hwntws - South Walians

Gogs (short for Gogledd meaning North) and Hwntws have an age old rivalry. Our accents are very different and even our Welsh can have a huge variety of slang and accents.

Examples:

Milk - Llaeth (Hwntw) Llefrith (Gog)

Now - Nawr (H) Rwan (G)

Whilst plenty of Welsh folks have very English sounding accents, if someone has a distinctly Welsh accent you can usually tell pretty quickly where they’re from. Accents within the Welsh language itself tend to be rather strong and distinctive for most people. It is extremely common for someone to ask you where you’re from once they find out you speak Welsh. Probably cause Wales isn’t that big and only like 20% ish of us speak Welsh??? Idk. It just is a thing. So like:

“O, da chi’n siarad Cymraeg?” (Oh, you speak Welsh?)

“Ydw! Wyt ti o’r Gogledd?” (I do! Are you from the North?)

“Yndw, dwi o Gaernarfon. Ble yda chi’n byw?” (I do, I’m from Caernarfon. Where do you live?)

“Fi o Rhydaman.” (I’m from Ammanford.)

Hopefully that dialogue feels human and not like two robots talking but you get the gist of it lmao. So, for those of you who want to make another of the characters, such as Lily, Welsh as well, it wouldn’t be out of place for them to try and establish where the other is from when first meeting. But also be aware that their slang and language would be different if they’re not from the same area (as with any language or country).

Conclusion: You cannot slap the blanket label of Welsh on Remus and then have him speak any old welsh and use any slang and such. So either choose somewhere specific or throw a dart and stick with where it lands.

Note: I am not the collective consciousness of every Welsh person. My experience is not universal - especially when it comes to North Walian things. This is just meant to serve as a general guide. Hope this helps and good luck with your writing!

pt.2

[jenn-the-butterfly]

AHA, I DID TWO OF THEM BECAUSE I'M AN OVERACHIEVER

Hard to believe it's been a year already since I started this project. Starting as a DCA-AU inspired off of All My Favorite Things because I stumbled across 8um8le's Stellar City blog, turning it into an AO3 fic under that idea and then watching it evolve into something I didn't even expect it to become once I loosened the shackles a bit. Azil has basically consumed my life (not sorry) in a way I haven't felt in ages.

And there's so much more to share! I'm hoping as I work on cleaning up the boys' designs and figuring out my own stylistic choices for how robots look, etc, I can shake them free from their DCA origins more, though I know at it's core it will still be there. Like that shoe in Wall-E that the tree is growing out of in the credits.

I can only hope that this project will continue to grow and solidify into its own thing as time wears on, and I want to meet each step with enthusiasm and brainrot. I want to be abnormal about this, I want to give off radiation damage with how much I give off "weird little freak" energy about this project.

That being said, I will keep pulling away from DCA tags and while I love the content and the fandom is cool, I don't want to keep mixing signals so please, do not tag DCA in my posts! (Thanks!)

Goals for 2025 will be continuing to work on the rewrite script and outlines for Free Runner, showcasing the different market grades by making adopts/customs (like Vistor), showing off some of the other characters I haven't gotten to yet (I haven't even mentioned Toast since like, last February), and pushing out more world building! Hopefully I'll have a map this year! (AHHH)

Special love and shoutouts to the new year!

@quilandscroll for being the coolest bitch, my best friend and only reason my sanity is still in tact (the real MVP) who still tries to boost me up with one arm even when the other is busy fighting her own demons. I love you to pieces

@scarredkitty who's been following my content through the year and is also a lover of fine machinery ;) the likes and comments really kept me going when I needed it most

@imagine-creative @dragongirl658 and @8um8le fellow DCA-turned-original-works who serve as inspiration and reminders that we are more than how we started and break away from being "just an AU" to something far more. I genuinely appreciate you

--Jenn & the boys

[tobiasdrake]

Can you make something out of the Manga panel where (Future) Android 18 gets mad over video games? Or Android 18 in general, like how she uses a fighting stance like Krillin's in the Buu Saga, and the kienzan on "Mighty Mask"? Or breaking Vegeta's arm?Just, a general Android 18(maybe plus 17, or about her relationship with Krillin) character and fighting analysis?

Oh, yeah, 18 is great. What makes the Twins stand out both as antagonists and characters is that they're a stark departure from everything we've come to know in Dragon Ball. Neither martial artists nor warriors, they're children at play gifted unimaginable power without an ounce of discipline behind it.

This gives them a sort of universal appeal for an audience. It's fun to watch them wreak havoc with their play, but equally fun to watch them grow and develop as characters. The Twins came into this world with a wealth of potential.

18 often gets labeled as the serious one of the pair due to her stern disapproval or boredom over 17's antics. But it needs to be noted that she's every bit as playful as he is. They just have different ideas for how they want to play.

17 likes to savor his entertainment while 18 likes to binge. They're both childish - in personality, I need to note, as that's Future 17 and 18 up there who've been around for twenty more years than their present counterparts. Their actual ages are never stated.

And they take turns ribbing each other for their respective immaturities.

I've always loved how 18's complaint here is that 17's behavior is unbecoming of a robot. She's just like, "Oh, male sentiments; Your human base is showing, bro." Though she does also ping him with some straight-up Boomer Humor.

It was the 80's.

To be fair, she's right. Like. I cannot stress enough that 17's plan for finding Goku is to drive around the world aimlessly until a Goku appears before him.

Or that 18, despite her pretense of being above petty humanity, is snooty and posh.

Did she come from wealth?

Did Gero kidnap rich kids? Are they the children of some higher-up in the RRA? Or is she just aggressively city? She has some opinions about rural life that you don't usually expect from an orphan or runaway or whatever the Twins were before Gero found them. 18 is inexplicably classist.

Though 18 did say ACAB so she's not all bad. Two whole pages of the manga are just 18 fucking up some cops.

Nonetheless, this is how you know she loves Krillin. Living on the Muten-Roshi's island in the ass crack of nowhere is a sacrifice.

18's fight with Vegeta fresh out of the lab serves as our introduction to the Twins as fighters. The main element this fight focuses on is how... unflappable the Infinite Energy models are. We see Vegeta's attacks mess 18 up a bit.

But the emphasis is on how cool-headed and robotic she is. She's taking hits, but she doesn't act like she's taking hits.

This is another one of those lines that Viz didn't quite translate well, as it's easy to take to mean that he's failed to do any damage to her at all. Which is visibly not true. Rather, he's saying she's not acting hurt; He got a good hit in on her but she's brushing it off as if she were still in pristine condition.

18 simply doesn't react to damage.

In Fighting Game terminology, 18 has Super Armor. She and Vegeta are evenly matched but her physiology, as a bio-machine powered by an Infinite Energy generator, is a world apart from Vegeta's.

Notably, a breakdown of all of the androids on a title page indicates that 18 is weaker than 17.

This was published at the start of 17's fight with Piccolo, so I assume the purpose behind it was to explain why 17 is evenly matched with the reborn Nameless Namekian when 18 was evenly matched with Vegeta earlier.

That or sexism. It's shonen. You can never discount that as a possibility, and 18 is one of like five prominent female characters in this entire manga - and the only one ever to be able to throw punches at a Super Saiyan level.

In terms of technique, the Twins have little martial arts knowledge or ki manipulation experience to draw from. They're amateurs fighting at an advanced level. More than that, they just woke up into this power yesterday.

So while they are capable of learning to draw energy from their generators and use it like ki, as seen from their Future counterparts, the Androids of the present haven't had a chance to learn that. They never use a single ki attack in the entire Cell arc. They understand what it is, they're never confused when others shoot ki at them, but they don't know how to do it themselves. They haven't had time to learn.

This is what makes 17's force field in his fight with Piccolo so shocking.

It's also notably drawn to not look like a ki barrier or something. The crackle of lightning around it and the mechanical "VNNNNN" sound effect gives it the aesthetic of some sort of electric field. It is nonetheless likely powered by his Infinite Energy generator; I think this is what gave DBS the idea to make his whole powerset lightning based.

For the present, the Twins are pretty basic fighters in terms of technique. They're what you'd expect of random kids with lots of power plugged into them. They punch and they kick. But their intense power and limitless stamina makes them very good at punching and kicking.

It's a shame Goku never got to fight them. I'd love to see what he makes of their style.

In addition to that fight setting up the Twins' fighting style, the end of 18's fight with Vegeta (and 17's subsequent shitstomp of everyone not Vegeta) also demonstrates our first glimpse into what makes these Twins different from their Future counterparts.

They aren't interested in killing anyone. It's not super clear why that is. "Something something Cell something something butterfly effect" is the general explanation for all the retcons. This is what sets into motion the idea that maybe the two of them don't have to die. Maybe they can coexist with all the other amoral big-personality super-warriors on Earth.

A hill that Krillin will absolutely die on even if nobody else believes in it.

IIRC Akira Toriyama has stated in interview that he likes for romances to happen offscreen because he doesn't feel he's very good at writing them. So he just. Doesn't.

In my opinion, this is what makes his romances some of the best in shonen. Dragon Ball doesn't waste time getting to the relationship, instead preferring to enjoy being in it. Toriyama gives us this:

As an aside, the way Yamcha leaps to retaliatory violence because a woman rejected his bro has always read as a major YIKES to me but I digress.

But then she sees Shenron, comes back out of curiosity, and overhears Krillin spending a wish from a magical wish-granting dragon to help her and 17 live more comfortable lives despite her rejection.

And we get a second, more conflicted departure.

And then seven years later:

You can see the appeal of Toriyama's approach to romance here. Like. If you're great at writing romance, all power to you. But if you know romance isn't your thing? As a Not Writing Romance romance, this is great. All the pieces you need to understand how this happened are there.

This is probably the best Not Writing Romance of Toriyama's career. And it gives 18 an inroad into the 25th Tenkaichi Budokai. Despite 17 being expressly the stronger, 18 features in both the first and last fights that the Twins are ever given.

While the tournament's ending is predominately a bit of a goof that 18 dominates, we do get a legitimate fight for her. It's not much of a fight, as she throws down with Mighty Mask, who is Goten and Trunks in a trenchcoat. But it does show how she's evolved into a martial artist, as the 18 of the present demonstrates the first ki attack she's ever done on-panel.

Future 18 also learned how to manipulate ki, but that was primarily done through your standard ki blasts. Lots of them when she's mad at video games. (Felt.)

But this moment implies a lot about her relationship with Krillin. 18 hasn't just figured out how to use ki; She's been studying martial arts with him. In this moment, 18 realizes that Goten and Trunks are too strong to tackle head on.

But unlike any fight the Twins have ever been in before, she has an answer to that. She's taken Krillin's style as her own and learned a better understanding of how to be a martial artist. She has Krillin's signature Kienzan under her belt, as well as remarkable control over it to only cut the costume like that.

And more to the point, she has learned how to fight as an underdog. Faced with the power that the boys possess, 18 cuts the knot. She doesn't have to beat them; She only has to make them lose.

And then that just leaves the true champion and greatest adversary 18 will ever face, the legendary Mr. Satan.

She does not win the tournament but she has the trophy in her possession. Bulma would be so proud.

It's funny to me that this begins a tradition of throwing fights in the ring to Mr. Satan after giving the other matches everything they've got. The progenitor of that tradition was an act of flagrant blackmail. Really goes to show how bad Goku remains to this day at reading dishonesty. Innocent to a fault, that man.

18 doesn't get to be involved in the stuff with Majin Buu. But she's never been a character who'd want to be. She doesn't care about fighting and defeating monsters and stuff. She's only ever been looking for a good time.

The series leaves her off in a place where we can feel confident that she's found what she was missing. She has a family that she genuinely seems to love, a relationship built on mutual respect and tenderness, and a fuckton of blackmail money to finally return to her apparently high-class roots?

She had to took a long and weird-ass van ride through the backwoods to get here, but she's gonna be alright.

[perypera]

Five Hargreeves would not say this? would not do that?

Why not?

I saw this alot and want to use this as a prompt into Five’s character study 🙃 so i will take it like a genuine question.

Whatever happened happens. We watched the show, that season 4 is what we got, everything in those 6 eps are canon that they gave us - unchangeable, but how to interprete it - is in your hand and your mind.

So if you want to talk, hello and continue. if your mind already set on stone about ignoring S4 then goodbye.

And this should serve as a feelgood post, S4 Five is not so bad or OOC as people said, he is just more human and less unhinge. A reminder we are watching a show from the very 1st season were literally built brick by brick with : Forbidden love, lies, cheating, turned your back on your family... Why easily accept that with some characters and be unforgiving when it comes to others.

( This is my little pleasure post for my future self to read and enjoy, i did not reread this post, might back later ).

Have some different perspectives to decide is S4!Five worth to be a good person to you or you think it only last 3 seasons. Tua S4 spoiler contain:

Use viewpoint to navigate to the perspective you want to read.

(This is not to sway any opinion about shipping, no, you do you.)

Viewpoint: Five is not himself because he would not follow Lila to the tunnel or take the train or he would do it alone?

Again? Why not? : Five worked for the Commision for around 5 years when Lila was raised in the Commision since 4yo. She is not his colleague, she surpassed his experience in working in/outside of time. So believed in someone with much more experience and let they take the lead is dumbtify his character? Really? Didn't it show his ability to calculate and work for the best results?

Viewpoint: Unnecessary romance line?

Necessity for the plot : Remember when Five killed robot mother Grace so Diego didn’t have to. That is a robot, in s4 it was Diego's 3 children, could Diego be the one to tell Lila to leave them into the unknown? I can say really ‘No’

+++ The mercy for Diego (ironically i know) is the burden they put on Five's shoulder. The guy really be doomed by the plot this season, the responsibilities and what they needed him to shoulder is so much that this is just a little grain compared to everything.

Necessity for the character : Going full circle since S1E1 "We only see each other at weddings and funerals" . The other Hargreeves have the privilege to grow up, leave the nest, build their own little family, now in S4 this is Five's turn to have that, he could have that this season is not the bad thing like people try to make it to be.

+++ Hey, that old man Five could't have a normal teenhood or adulthood, judge him or not he might never truly experience love outside his love for family and now he got swifted off his feets with love with a lover. Well, that is some tough shites you can't control with your mind.

If you couldn't give him credit to control his Anger is there any chance with the biggest hit like Love - precaution that is something you could catch in a matter of seconds then your mind and your heart got flipped.

Viewpoint : He gave up finding a way home and want to take a break, bad or good?

Now, the timeline of s4: 6 years in the new timeline + 6 years lost in the subway can't find a way home equal 12 years later.

Cue good guy no.1 to be our mirror: Lets see the time through the eyes of someone whose character was reduced to a golden retriever - good boy enough for you? - Luther. if you got bored skip to "+++"

Imagine if in the course of 6 years finding Sloan he got tired and give up. Then after that he met a girl, that girl understands him in all traumas he had been through and , 6 years later, over 10 years passed, he couldn’t find Sloan and he fell in love with this girl. He decided give up looking. Would it make Luther a bad guy?

+++ Five could never be as a good boy. His moral is lower than all the other Hargreeves because he was lost and left alone since 13yo with no human around to be a emotions moral figure, his love for his family is in his head for 45 years living in the Apocalypse but that is the time he did not experience other kind of love, even then he also gave up for an imagination love with a manequin...

So... he deserved abit understanding in this subway lost situation? They both thought they couldn't find a way out that purgatory and boy if that old man is not a walking stick of emotional starve.

And to clearly see the canon events so ones can give it personal meaning, there is a subject i think necessarily to be defined. The “family”

Family by destiny (big family) : the family of who bounded together not by choice but by destiny - siblings.

Family by choice (nuclear family) : The one you build with your lover

Cue good guy no.2 : I want to tell you a story about a movie i watched, if you got bored skip to "+++"

An 100yo man in a young body, by destiny created a big family, they stand side by side against wars after wars, the family entrusted their life with one another. Always got each other’s back, they are one big family and if any of them needed the others will answer.

The old man also lives for his destinied family like that, whenever one in danger he would come running.

But after what seemed like infinite times and infinite wars he lost some siblings in his family but he was still standing. He chose to say that was it, i’m tired, i can’t keep doing this, the family will always be in danger, they will always need me but I can’t give any more. He gave up his big family and come home to his lover to live a quiet life together with her.

Well, that is Captain America, he is always an epitome of the best good guy in the multiverse.

+++ This is a trope so generally used in movies. So Five would never ever EVER touch that image because he is a moral grey character, well, but give the 70yo soul man a little empathize is not too much yeah?

Viewpoint : Hiding the cypher

This is one big subject coming to say about his character. While the man was famous for the one characteristic - his love for his family.

Put in the context of time: Five got a relationship and built him a little family of his own for the very first time in 70years. Now in between bring his lover back to dangers with the big family of his sblings >/or < stay in a safe timeline to protect his lover, being torn is saying it lightly.

Have you ever been in the situation like that? And do you happen to be able to control time and space?

+++ The perspective here is that: he didn’t destroy the cypher. He knew they must come back, he must give her the way back.

But we are watching the show where Five is TIME LORD - Let that sink in, he could comeback at exactly the day and the time he wants. Why must ignore that fact, he can live with Lila for idk 20yrs more, then come back exactly that Christmas day. So he can ensure both her happiness and safenesses then take her going back in time to face the Apocalypse with his family.

He didn’t choose the dark turn, that worth 1 point right? Come on~

Last but not least: The abomination ending

Remember since the beginning Five is described versus now s4 he was built to be the character as :

S1-2 (21 days) : Saving the family and sacrifice the timeline or anything in the way >/<S3 (1 week later) : Give up fighting, want to travel and compensate for lost time >/< S4 (13 years later): Saving the timeline and sacrifice his family, his one true love, everything he had and more.

See how epic his character was supposed to change, but this is not something so simple that you can execute in 6eps. This need atleast 6 seasons + 1 movie to be presented enough.

Only thing can't be debateable is Lila, she is the best. I love her in all her broken parts.

So do you want to talk more about perspectives with me or go forget this s4 altogether 😌

[tainted-liquor]

'Miss Me?⋆｡°✩

E42!Prowler Morales x ProwlerFan!BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of salt Tws: Cussing, brief abandonment, n thas it W/C: 2.4k A/N: GWENPOOL CODED READER RAAAAAAAAGHHHH

Something was wrong.

really wrong.

for the past 2 years, you’ve been following in the footsteps of New York's infamous “prowler”. He served as a symbol of fear and terror in the eyes of the public, murdering dozens and destroying whatever he could get his hands on. But to those who paid any actual attention, it was clear that there was a specific pattern to his actions that never really harmed the innocent. He took down massive corporations and spilled the blood of corrupt figures who profited off of New York's state of constant chaos and poverty. You loved to watch him run just above your reach, dodging and weaving between buildings as he chased after something like prey.

So what did you do? You decided to grow your own identity when you were 15, making your robotic pink and white suit within the cold walls of your school's long abandoned attic. You began imitating the Prowler, managing to make quite a bit of noise in terms of your presence as a ‘new villain’ within Brooklyn. Your ultimate goal was to make as much noise and garner as much attention as your beloved ‘hero’ to grab his attention. So when you were fighting off a group of businessmen in the back alley of a dark building, you stopped everything when you saw the familiar suit drop down from above and join your fight.

He said nothing, fighting in absolute silence as he helped you destabilize the last of the people you were currently combating. He gave them a rather lethal-sounding kick to the head, making sure they were all out before looking up at you and turning his head to the side. You struggled to keep your composure as the white slits on his mask narrowed and he walked closer to you, circling you slowly as he examined your shiny suit. “Oh my gosh-! Hi! This is crazy I literally love you!” You exclaimed, your voice sounding like a staticky and distorted radio. He finally looked back at your face after analyzing your suit.

“Are those my claws?” He asked, grabbing your wrist and examining the refined metal claws on your hands that were definitely inspired by him. “Yes! My gear is totally inspired by you!” You cheered, eagerly rocking your arms back and forth to refrain from trying to hug him. He hummed briefly before walking away to wherever it was he was going, disappearing without a trace. You didn’t wanna be annoying, so you waved bye watching as he seemingly jumped up a building and quickly disappeared into the shadows. You thought that would be the last interaction you’d have with him as you sped home with a smile on your face, praying to whatever god was listening that you’d be able to talk to him next time.

And DAMN, were them gods listening.

You began to see him pop up slightly more on your missions, watching as he silently helped you with your tasks, gave your suit a good look, and then left again. This became a routine for about 3 months, watching him come and go like a thief in the night. You always said your brief hello, hey, or hi to always get an upward nod or a small thumbs up. But that never stopped you from fangirling when you got home or complimenting his skills or suit. You were currently brutalizing and abusing some CEO of a big corp, kicking and kneeing him in the stomach for info regarding the exploitation of his employees when you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“Hey! Here to help me again?” You asked, throwing a sharp punch to the man’s skull before dropping him on the floor. You turn around to face the Prowler immediately, tiny hearts popping up on your holographic mask that indicate your joy as he only shakes his head. “I need you on a mission with me” he mutters, attaching a small disk-looking circle to the side of your helmet. “Wait wait really! YES! LETS FUCKING GO! Okay okay, wait.” You exclaimed, turning back to face the man you left on the floor and tying him up with a spare electrical cord you found. “Okay let’s go! I’m so excited!” You exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around the taller boy's torso automatically.

Of course, Miles wasn’t really big on physical touch. But he let you hang around for about 3 seconds before prying you off with a tiny smile. “Aight that’s enough, c’mon. Your suit got boosters?” He asked as he prepared to dart forward out of a window. “Yours has boosters? Is that how jump so high?” You asked, earning a small sigh of irritation from Miles. He backed out of the window, swung you over his shoulder, and held on to your back tightly to make sure you wouldn't slip and splat on the concrete below. You let out a small yelp of fear as he darted out the window at seemingly impossible speeds, wind whistling in your ears as Miles's voice rang clearly through your helmet.

"The disk I put on your mask will let you hear me when I'm gone. Vice versa. I need you to knock out anyone in the control room n turn off the cameras while I reach the person we're looking for. I'll come get you when I'm done. DON'T leave the room" he instructed as you tried your best not to audibly swoon over his unfiltered voice. His tone was smooth and silky like honey, his accent sticking to his words like glue as he firmly told you exactly what to do when you arrived at your destination. Your stomach pooled with butterflies as you responded with a small "got it. By the way, your voice is really cute." There was a small huff and a low chuckle before Miles gently patted your back with his cold claw, muttering a small "thank you" that went straight through your eardrums and right to your rapidly increasing heartbeat.

And ever since that mission, you grew closer and closer. He cleaned up after all your crimes, picking up and destroying any clues you'd left behind, and keeping some as keepsakes. He'd never tell you that though, finding himself fidgeting with your purple heart-shaped sunglasses he found cleaning up another one of your messy missions. Nine months later and there you were sitting on top of a skyscraper, knees swinging back and forth childishly as you admired the lights that looked like fireflies from up so high. "Hola, Mamita. You shouldn't sit on the ledge like that. Don't know what I'd do if my favorite sidekick fell to her death" He taunted as he sat next to you, gently pulling you closer to him. "Harr-de-harr. I'm not your sidekick. You can be my crime husband though!" you exclaimed, turning your head to look at Miles as you bonked your mask with his.

He giggled at your statement, sounding genuinely joyful and flattered for a change before turning to face you again. "Yeah, aight. Fuck a crime wife, you just my wife," he stated, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and swinging your knee over his. You were thankful that he couldn't see your face, otherwise, he would've seen how your jaw dropped as you leaned your head against his shoulder. He took off one of the heavy-duty purple straps attached to his suit, gently clipping it onto your pretty pink tactile belt. He scooped you up without so much as a word, safely hauling the both of you down from the top of the skyscraper and placing you safely on your feet. "Aight, I gotta go Mamas. Keep that f'me, yeah?" He called as he quickly disappeared into the shadows again.

But that was the last time you saw him.

You carried on with your missions like usual, going 5 in a row without seeing your 'husband' or him saying some random shit in your ear. There was no "keep safe. Cops are on you" or him scolding you for being 'irresponsible' regarding your share of crime. You began to get worried, risking your life by going out fully suited when you had no reason to be, running and jumping around Brooklyn in search of your Prowler while his name slowly faded from the news. You even began to think that he got himself killed fucking around with the wrong target one day. You were scared, and you missed your 'man'.

For two whole years, you went to school every morning wondering when you'd see your beloved Prowler again. The anonymous boy you'd once fangirl over like some sick and twisted Justin Beiber suddenly faded from the face of the earth. You spoke in your mask now and again, attempting to get some type of response as you grieved the sudden disappearance of your first love. You continued as a nameless vigilante, earning a massive amount of fame and even 'replacing' the Prowler as his name withered from headlines. You quickly grew stronger, learning to clean up your mess, and became more violent when it came to dealing with criminals and small-time offenders.

The days melted together as you lost track of time, drowning yourself in your academic career and constant suit updates to take your mind off the pain in your heart. You practically sped down the highway with your newly installed 'Wheels' to your wide, chunky, metal boots. Your Purple strap flailed in the air as you darted off after an all-black tinted car, containing what was supposed to be your final victim with your identity as the infamous 'Pink Prowler'. You blasted forward with your boosters, digging a claw into the back of the black trunk and clawing your way up the car, breaking the glass windshield and pulling out a rather young-looking white guy. The car crashed abruptly, allowing you to leap to the side and get a look at the guy you were about to ask a couple of questions before you robbed him of his life.

There was a sudden static noise filling your helmet, groaning in irritation as you put your foot on the man's chest and fidgeted with the side of your mask. There was a loud thud, and the car burst into flames as a figure stood behind you…but you weren't really afraid as you slowly turned around to face the new stranger. And there he was, only taller and with longer braids as those familiar white eyes stared down at you. You quickly stomped down on the man's chest, hearing a sickening crunch and a blood-curdling scream as you turned to face your 'husband'. Everything rushed back to you like runoff as you took in his form, obsessing over every new muscle and scar as he slowly relaxed as soon as he saw you and your…new suit.

Despite the overwhelming joy and love you felt for the boy in front of you, rage built in your body as you attempted to throw punches at him, with Miles grabbing your metal-clad hands like it was nothing. "Where have you BEEN? I fucking missed you, I thought you died or some shit!" You shouted, attempting to wiggle your wrists out of his hold as he gave you a slight 'sympathetic' nod. He clicked his tongue at you disapprovingly, inching closer towards you as he pulled you into a tight hug. Part of you swore you could feel the regret pooling from his aura, but that was quickly disregarded when you heard him sigh deeply as he rested his chin on your head. "Lo siento, mi muñequita…I never meant to leave you," he muttered, patting the small of your back, allowing you to berate him as much as you wanted for abandoning you.

"I know, I know. Pero ahora esto aqui. Te extrañé, Mamita" He cooed as he gently rocked you back and forth, paying no attention to the man struggling to breathe in the grass. "That's definitely not something I taught you," He murmured, turning his head towards the stranger coughing and wheezing due to his broken ribs. "I saw you on the news every day, Muñequita. 'M sorry for disappearing on you, they was on my ass with a watch party for a couple of years. Wanna know why? Cuz I cleaned up one of YOUR messes" he sniggered, picking you up and resting you over his shoulder as he threw the man in a nearby river. You relaxed in his hold, quickly gasping when you realized that he had murdered your only source of intel. "I was supposed to question that motherfucker, puto!"

"You finally learn Spanish and it's to cuss me out? I thought you loved me…" He joked, giving you a firm squeeze to the small sliver of flesh visible on your suit, located right on your left thigh. You huffed, much to his amusement as he began walking back in the direction of the city. "I'm still mad that you left me like that. How do you abandon your work wife?" You asked, rolling your eyes underneath your mask as you struggled to keep up the 'annoyed' act. You knew you couldn't stay mad at him, and you had a feeling he knew it too. "For the last time, you're not my work-wife. You're just my wife" he stated.

You giggled quietly as you began kicking your feet back and forth slightly. "You don't even mean that for real" you muttered as you mindlessly played with his braids. Miles chuckled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he adjusted his arm over your back. "Oye, detente antes de que te haga. Solo di que me extrañaste" He sniggered. "In English, please?" You whined as you attempted to grab Miles's hand.

"Missed me?" He asked as he flipped you around so you could see in front of you. "Maybe…" You whispered. Miles gave a low hum, nodding his head when he got the answer he was looking for. There were about five minutes of comfortable silence as you heard his footsteps against the coarse gravel, finally feeling at peace now that you had your husband back from wherever he was. You giggled to yourself, earning a small "Hmm?" from Miles as you thought of a potentially dumb question.

"You should propose to me"

"You want me to propose to you? Aight, I gotchu mamas. Ima get you a real pretty purple ring, okay? But you gon have to fix that suit, I can't tell I inspired it no more. Need these niggas to know you my wife and sidekick"

"boy bye."