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eatommo · 6 months ago

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Hotshot [c.f.99]

CW: Poly!batchxreader, group sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (m&f recieving), double penetration, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal and anal creampie, multiple partners, cumshots, anal sex, ass eating, spanking, praise, authority kink, cucking? kinda?, implied recording of sex, mention of weapons, mentions of aftercare, overstimulation, post season 7 pre omega, dom/sub dynamics, allusions to subspace, slight degradation, shower sex, mutual pining lots of kissing, no clonecest, liberties for hunter's tattoo, reader has hair long enough to pull, reader gets picked up and carried, i probably missed something let me know!

A/N: 5.6k of pure smut, absolutely no plot here. All mistakes are mine, repost and let me know what/if you like <3

As you climb the steps to the Marauder, something about this mission feels different. It's been months since you've been away from the boys, and almost as long since you cared.

Since running away from the clutches of the empire and charming your way aboard the ship you've become an asset to the team even in just your companionship, but it was also nice to have someone around who wasn't a clone. It made it that much easier to do recon, and also that much easier to infiltrate a group because your face wasn't spread across every corner of the Empire.

However, the longer you stayed with them, the more you valued what made them different. You learned who to go to for help with blaster trouble, and even learned to overlook Crosshair’s slights during your target practice. You’ve also learned that Hunter was sensitive to flowers and strong scents and that he had the best-smelling soap aboard the ship (and never seemed to mind when you used it). Tech, on the other hand, was always great at making you feel included, but was always, always going to double-check anything you did to the ship ‘just in case.’ Echo might've been one of the most interesting people to talk to, during his work with the 501st and the glory days of working alongside some of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy he saw many planets and cultures that you had only dreamed about. Wrecker, well, he was a big softy despite his talent for demolitions and overall penchant for violence, he was the first to volunteer to take you out and stretch your legs in a nearby city and to help you bring home rations (and a sweet treat or two) for the rest of the crew, and has even carried you home from cantina trips a time or two.

They were closer than any other troop you'd seen, all depending and working so tightly and neatly together you'd think that adding you to the mix would complicate things but all you seemed to do was fit in like sand in the desert. You fell into a routine, they'd leave you at the ship during more dangerous jobs, typically with Echo or Tech at your side to assist with any repairs as you kept the inside of the ship in order, and kept a close eye on any equipment and prepping rations and meals as they became available.

After a stop on Batuu, in which you fought every urge to procure a Loth cat, instead letting Crosshair buy you a long thin vibroblade to appease you. “I haven't given up by the way.” You shout over your shoulder, as you settle into your seat before the others.

“I've thought so.” Tech, his voice more amused than anything. “Let us not berate the woman so that she uses that thing on us, shall we? We are cleared for takeoff.” Wrecker chuckles at the idea of you brandishing the thin blade to any of them. You could hold your own for sure, but you were no ARC trooper.

You settle aboard, staying seated until you reach the upper atmosphere, locking your cloak away with your blade, settling back into the seat near the cockpit, and resting your head against the wall.

“If you need rest, my bunk is open,” Wrecker whispers his words and his voice contradicting each other. He's gruff but his speech is soft like he's afraid to startle you, he's cleaning his blaster but leans forward to speak softly to you. “It's still the biggest bunk.” He smiles and with his helmet in his lap, you can see the intense scaring over the side of his head, and your fingers twitch at your side begging to caress it.

“I'm fine thank you.” You beam at him surprised by the crack in your voice and not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture. “I’m quite content out here.” Wrecker blushes, as if embarrassed he even brought it up.

You can hear the audible judgemental breath of Crosshair even from your position behind his back, as he examines his rifle, something amiss and there's a thick tension in the room you can't quite place. Glancing around as they settle in for take-off, none of them seem to want to meet your eyes.

“I didn't expect you all to get so shy, I thought maybe you were starting to warm up to me.” You let your voice trail off, a hint of a tease that cuts into the thick tension in the air for a brief moment. Before Hunter sharply stands up and lets his feet carry him towards you.

Last night’s mission for Rex was messier than any of you had expected and used up the last of your bacta supply. Hence the trip to Batuu, and what you thought was a tense conversation about purpose or authority between the group. You’d overheard something about keeping secrets when you’d greeted them at the ship’s ramp and the pinched nerve in Hunter’s jaw encouraged you to keep your mouth shut. Since the tension between each of them has been as taught and dangerous as a tightrope. As the long-haired clone approached you, you sat straighter, already apologizing for being difficult before he cut you off.

Leaning down until he is practically whispering in your ear, "We are programmed to be professional first and foremost. And we are not always so shy."

Just sharing your space with him has your body reacting to him, vibrating in both fear and a sneaking feeling of arousal. His breath is hot and you turn to look into his dark brown eyes, eyes you should be so familiar with. “I am not an officer, I do not bite, and there's no reason to be formal.” the sentence comes out as a squeak, and you try to hide embarrassment flashing through your cheeks.

He smiles, his voice dips lower but is so soft you swear you can feel his words caress your skin, “Easy hotshot, we might like a woman who bites.”

Oh, oh wow. We.

In an instant, everything and all your feelings about them shift and change. You spent the last few rotations convincing yourself it was normal to feel bubbly around them, they'd saved you, and they were providing for you. This feeling, the unmistakable pull of longing and need in the pit of your belly, would complicate things.

Hunter stands and departs the conversation with an ease you envy. You take a deep breath and compose yourself just to look up and see the rest of the crew watching you, like a wounded animal, you catch just a glimmer of a blush in Echo’s face.

Rex mentioned they were a tight-knit group he seemed shocked you fell in line with them, but hell you didn't expect this. Each of them is in their thoughts as you glance around the ship. Echo and Tech are busying themselves with the controls, but you can see Echo worrying his lip, and Tech turning his head to glance at you every few moments as if wondering what will happen first. Or rather who?

Crosshair stares at you, blankly like he's trying to read every line in your smile or every wrinkle in your clothes, your eyes click together and he smiles like a lothcat with a womprat in his teeth. “You're not intimidated by us?” It's almost as if he's as shocked as the fact itself, there's a cutting edge to the statement like you should be, and then a corner of his mouth turns up. “You like being here,” he tests the statement as if tasting the fact on his tongue, “with all of us.”

You smirk, doing your best to match the heat in his stare, “I am grateful. I've never felt so important or wanted,” you swallow thickly letting the heat in your body you know Hunter can sense, speak for itself, “At least, not yet.” You shift in your seat glancing up at Hunter who is glaring hungrily at your chest as if he could hear your heart leap in your chest with every passing moment.

You glance up to the stars ahead of the ship, Tech looks like he's preparing the ship to jump to light speed. The return mission, at its worst, should only take a few days and even less of that is travel, normally you're not one for long lightspeed trips but this time you wonder if it will be too short.

The way the crew looks at you makes your skin tingle, not sure if you’ve ever been paid this much attention before. As the ship lurches into hyperspace, you let your head lull back to catch Hunter's attention, peering up towards his face as your chin hovers just a foot away from his codpiece.

Doing your best to keep your breath even, a part of you wishes to stand and kiss him, but this time it’s your turn to feel shy. You stand, brushing your chest across Hunter’s’ and waltzing over to lean against the control panel of the ship and the two quieter clones on this ship.

The moment Tech realizes you’re moving towards him his posture is stuck straight, but Echo only leans slightly towards you as you pass your hand over his shoulder. Standing at the front of the ship has only allowed them all to stare at you, your heart skips a beat. You see Hunter’s eye twitch, he is reading you like a book.

“Well,” you speak slowly and eloquently, playing into their curiosity, “How should we pass the time?”

“Come here.” the room's attention snaps to Crosshair, whose red-hot gaze is marring into your skin. Silence falls over the craft as Crosshair lifts a hand and gestures toward his empty waiting lap. Slowly, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker turn again towards you but Hunter stays strong locked into some silent dialogue with his brother.

You feel as if it is entirely dangerous to cross the space between the two. Yet your feet carry you without worry, and neither of them breaks until their vision is obstructed by your body. You turn facing the softened expression in Hunter’s eyes, and slowly lower yourself onto Crosshair's lap.

Placing your hands on his knees to steady yourself, you lean back until your head is resting on his chest and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Good girl.”

His whispers send shivers down your spine and Hunter sinks to his knees in front of you, as Cross removes your shirt from over your head and the rest of the Batch descends upon you like wolves.

As Hunter’s face presses against the softness of your hip, Tech's teeth graze your neck and Wrecker's hands smooth over your nipples, you're overwhelmed at their strength. These are battle-hardened soldiers, Crosshair runs a calloused finger down your spine, and you're reminded how soft you are. Your skin is plush and comforts all of Hunter’s senses as the boys proceed to lose themselves upon you, you're reminded of the comfort they provide for you, a safety net you never knew you craved and the appetite you never knew could become so hungry.

Your canvas pants are ripped down the leg by Wrecker and Hunter’s combined efforts, the sound almost drowned out by a collection of panting wanton noises, and the scraps hit the floor out of sight.

Hunter noses across the top of your panties, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin of your pussy as you feel Cross shift his hips and push his hard cock into your ass. All of them are in full armor, save for the helmets, yet you lie strewn out before them slick pooling in your panties as they take turns pulling pleasure from your body like they serve no higher purpose.

It's Wrecker who pulls himself from his flight suit first, and you can't remember ever having such a physical reaction to something like this before. You reach out on instinct, fingers not wrapping completely around his girth and teasing the pink tip until it begins to leak into your palm. He towers over your head as whimpers and shudders wrack through his body as though he's never been touched.

You catch a glimpse of Echo, standing slightly off to the side, watching with his pupils fully dilated as he follows the path of Hunter’s mouth on your skin his face flush with crimson. Tilting your head back you turn towards Crosshair and give him a deep kiss, letting him lick into your mouth feverishly. Hunter’s fingers trace over your seam delicately over the thin fabric of your panties as they grow transparent with your desire.

Wrecker’s cock is thick and heavy in your hand, and you clench wantingly around nothing, his hips brush into your hand with a tenderness you long to experience. Crosshair snakes a hand up your chest and cradles the thin skin over your throat, chasing Tech’s glancing kisses away, but taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind your hips against his cock.

In a few mere movements, the men surrounding you have altered your state of mind and each passing touch coaxes you further into submission. Tech shifts and lets his breath ghost over your nipples, you turn your head and catch Hunter in a deep kiss noting how different he tastes and feels against you. You let your thumb swipe over the leaking tip of Wrecker's cock, and fight the urge to stuff your fingers in your mouth to taste.

Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away, letting Echo take his place between your legs but not before using his dagger to cut the hip of your undergarments and stuffing them into one of his pant pockets.

You blush at the obscenity of it all, but it quickly soothed away but the cool metal of Echo’s headpiece brushing over your thighs. Wordlessly Crosshair adjusts the seat so your pussy is presented to Echo, leaning more onto your back and looking up at the boys devouring your form.

His mouth is hot, licking softly over your clit as you relax with Crosshair stroking the pulse point in your neck. You’re slick with arousal and he doesn’t hesitate to lick it up teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe, letting yourself melt against him, fighting to stay concentrated enough to play with Wrecker’s balls tugging and rolling them beneath your fingers. Eager to pleasure every one of them.

Echo’s glove ghosts over your sex, teasing your entrance with a digit, the leather smoothly gliding over your skin. Hunter and Tech each take to stroking down your thighs and holding them in place, “Easy, meshla, we will take good care of you.”

Your mind is swimming, when did this start? Tech steps a hair closer to your face, tilting your jaw up with his free hand, and slips a finger past your lips. You suck lightly, sure to match the pace at which you’re stroking Wrecker. You get a praising hum, and Tech surprisingly is the second to drop his pants and pull himself free. Stroking himself to the rhythm of you teasing him with a curl of your tongue.

It's the tangled moan of you around Tech’s fingers that breaks Crosshair, his pants unbearably tight and each little movement of your hips making him clench his jaw to stave the noises that die in his throat. He lifts you to your feet, and removes his pants, letting himself spring free. You have to admit you expected the armor to be harder to take off.

You stand on unsteady feet, in an attempt to turn your head towards Crosshair, Hunter captures your chin in two fingers locking your eyes together. “Echo.” A chuckle reverberates between them, all seemingly on board with whatever plan this could be. Echo slides flat onto his back looking up at you and the rest of the boys. The realization is enough to make you shiver. Your pussy clenches, still empty, but a dripping mess sticks your thighs together. Hunter’s eyes are burning through your resolve, there’s an intensity you’d come to respect that now sends a spike of fear through you. “Sit.”

You go to protest but are quickly shut down and you look around at the men surrounding you eagerly but patiently waiting for you to follow his instructions. Swallowing thickly over the lump in your throat, you sink to your knees and hover a few inches from Echo’s waiting mouth. From your knees they tower above you, all but Hunter free from their confines. You get a good look at the three cocks, all weeping and swollen pink across their tip, beautifully complimenting the darker-tanned skin of their shaft.

Each of them was different, which only slightly surprises you, Wrecker being the thickest, but both Tech and Crosshair meet him in length. You can feel each breath from Echo’s mouth, knowing you're probably close to dripping across his chin. You lower slowly, afraid to hurt him, until he licks the seam of your entrance savoring the hot flesh and you seek his tongue sitting on his face in earnest. His mouth brings welcome waves of pleasure as he suckles on your clit.

They pump themselves slowly, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing with each shiver. You start to move your hips in small circles while reaching to palm over Crosshair’s balls and stroking up over his shaft squeezing a bead of precome from the tip. You open your mouth and glance between them, expecting to see some kind of hierarchy emerge but they take a half step toward you together.

You opt for taking Tech into your mouth, but only because he's in the middle, letting yourself drool around him as you suck on the thick knot of his cock head, before turning and spitting the excess saliva onto Crosshair’s cock coating it with slick to make your fist glide against him nice and quickly. Tightening around the base and working more of those beautiful precum drips from his leaking tip.

You snap back to Tech’s cock, tasting the sweat of his skin, and the desire for your body grows with each passing second as he throbs needfully in your mouth.

Echo is teasing your clit with calculated movements of his tongue, licking around it in sharp purposeful circles, and sucking on it every few passes. Enough to make your brain fuzz up each time his lips seal around you as Tech nudges the back of your throat to earn a gag.

You pull off him again, this time gathering the drool in your mouth to cover as much of Wrecker's cock as you physically can. His cock is so heavy it sways low on his hips thick and so hard your body is already aching for the sting that will accompany the stretch. You use the thick spit to pump him slower, allowing yourself a moment to admire what has to be the largest you'll ever get the chance to worship.

The slick sounds are broken with an “Atta girl.” in the shape of a deep growl from Wrecker’s chest. He reaches and gathers some drool from your chin and brushes it over your lip and you open instinctively, just as Echo uses his tongue to prod at your entrance. His praise is as wholesome as his affection for you.

Hunter has taken a seat across from the rest of you, watching as if analyzing each movement of your legs as they quiver from the ravenous pleasure and your throat tightens around the length of Crosshair's shaft. His thin fingers find purchase at the back of your neck, urging you to sputter around him and the sick squelch just barely audible beneath your moans.

Echo swiftly plunges two fingers into your pussy, crooking them and stroking deliciously at your g-spot and forcing you to pull yourself away from Crosshair to let your head drop as you fight for composure. “Let yourself enjoy it little one. It won’t be your last.” Cross takes the tip of his cock and taps the tip to your tongue.

You swear, body humming and teetering on the edge before losing yourself to one hellishly explosive orgasm. It shocks you, body shaking and toes curling against the cool floor as your body burns in the aftershocks Echo works you through it with some tentative kisses to your entrance, and he encourages you to sit up so he can slide out from under you.

So much of the room is spinning you don’t notice Tech sitting in front of you until you’re kissing him. His tongue finds yours in a syrupy sweet and methodical kiss as you fight to catch your breath. Wrecker moves behind you, running his rough hands down your back and palming the flesh of your ass, striking it with a loud slap.

Tech swallows your gasp, pinching your nipples and pulling them as Wrecker bends you at the waist until you’re scrambling to your hands and knees sucking Tech into your mouth with a compliant and satisfied hum.

Hunter speaks up, “Turn around.” The trance is broken for the briefest of seconds, and you don't have time to think before they’re turning you so you’re faced with Wrecker’s huge cock and Tech teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. The passive command that Hunter has over all of you gives you goosebumps, his authority even stronger than the ache they share for you.

You sink to your elbows, propping your ass up on display and practically begging for Tech to fuck you, pushing back onto the head of his cock, all while blinking away tears as Wrecker’s size makes your jaw ache. The larger man splays his hand across the back of your head, inciting your thick moans as you work as much of him as you can fit.

Tech’s hips pitch forward and he’s splitting you open in one fluid deep thrust until your ass is nestled against his hips and he grunts at the eager squeeze of your sex around him. You work your hips in sync with your head the drag of his cock along your walls is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. He shifts from both knees to one, allowing a deeper thrust to kiss your cervix with a hiss of pain-laced pleasure. He sets a pace, hips meeting yours in synchronous harmony, and the three of you get lost in each other's pleasure.

You’re briefly aware of Crosshair stroking himself above you and Hunter is still watching with bated breath as you service his brothers, wondering if you’ll let each of them have a turn or if they’ll need to give you a break.

Tech snakes a hand around to press a firm thumb against your clit, and a rush of fluid hits the floor of the cargo space that permeates his senses. The sickly sweet smell of your release coats his tongue and he chokes the head of his cock through his clothes to stop him from cumming before he even gets to touch you.

Your vision is white, and you’re vaguely aware of the spend running down your thighs. When Tech pulls himself free with a grunt you feel the hot ropes of his cum on your back you whine, feeling ashamed that you long for him to finish inside of you. You clench around nothing and sit up to look at Wrecker who brushes a hair out of your face. You kiss him, softly at first, unsure of his comfort with the taste of his precome in your mouth, but he growls and lifts you by your waist, licking into your mouth as he helps you hover over his cock.

You take advantage of the break, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking the weight off your knees in favor of straddling him. Even in his lap, you’re looking up at him. Letting gravity do some of the work, you adjust to let him prod at your entrance and sink slowly onto him, the slick warmth of your pussy a welcome substitute for your pretty mouth.

His chest rumbles beneath yours, groaning as your pussy flutters around him. You kiss him through a grimace, “Take your time.” He whispers against your mouth, low enough you’re not sure the others hear him. Heart swelling at the compassion, you let him slowly rock his hips against you, easing his way into your heat and keeping his hands splayed across your hips to support you.

It’s a slow process, each inch accompanied by breathless and muffled moans followed by kisses and words of endearment. “You can take it mesh’la.” You’re nearly there, body so in tune with his every word you nearly forgot your showmanship.

Crosshair is to your right, one hand gripping the base of his cock as precome dribbles and hangs just out of reach from your eager tongue, muttering something in a language you don’t understand.

You swear you can feel the throb of Wrecker inside of you, and he presses his mouth to your forehead as he pistons his hips slowly angling your body in a way so that he’s moving you along his shaft effortlessly.

Breathless and spent, you let him. Being filled by him is almost overwhelming, each push and pull feeling like he's going to split you in half. He mumbles and groans into your hairline, speaking nonsense in between bitten-off praise. When his fingers find your clit you all but cry, shaking your head in protest, “Please- I can't.”

It's Hunter that answers your cries, “You can.” His voice hoarse with need and restraint, “Be a good girl.” Your brow furrows, in concentration, tossing your head back in near agony at the overstimulation.

Wrecker leans forward and presses his mouth to the column of your throat sucking on the thin skin and leaving a pink welt in his wake. You feel as if you could explode, not able to hear the sounds of your screams as you shudder and writhe under his touch, against his skin and your body falls slack with the overwhelming pleasure.

He lifts his face and you catch a pleased smile, like a loth-wolf with its prey in its teeth. As he throbs and fucks his spend deep into your core. They all see the muted smile tug at the corner of your mouth as Wrecker cums inside you.

He holds you for a moment, kissing over the reddish blemish on your throat and waiting for you to make eye contact with him before slipping free with a tangled whimper from both of you.

Wrecker wraps your legs around him and stands on sturdy legs, you cling to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder hyperaware of the wetness between your thighs. He sets you on Hunter's lap, in your euphoria, he’s lost his pants and sits still in a pair of soft cotton underwear, stark black against his tanned abdomen. It’s now that you notice his tattoo, so familiar with the portion on his face you never notice how the tattoo bleeds across the entire left side of his body.

The lines are both clean and elegant, highlighting the rich flawless tone of his figure. Gorgeously broad shoulders with rippling cords of muscles supporting your cheek as you rest your head lazily and admire him. Placing a lingering and exhausted kiss to the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck and relishing the warmth of him against your sweat-soaked skin, in the extra cold air of a ship in hyperspace.

He runs his fingers through your hair, scratching lightly and working every line of tension out of you over a few minutes. You distantly hear the sound of the fresher’s shower being turned on. Crosshair is gone, and you fear a pang of regret and pity.

Your breath is coming easier by the time, Hunter carries you towards the sound of the water. Crosshair meets you both under the water’s spray refreshing your senses and soothing the ache of your muscles. You get settled on your feet between them, legs feeling like they’re made of sand, Hunter’s body is pressed tightly to your back, anchoring and steadying you as you greet Crosshair with an inviting kiss.

He welcomes your touch, all but overtaking your space completely as you get pressed between the two of them and lost to the feeling of their bodies against yours, Hunter nestled into the small of your back and Crosshair’s cock leaking and purple with need against your belly.

The steam only adds to the dreamlike quality of it all, tendrils wafting off the ground and highlighting the sight of your ass pressed against him. Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you, but each passing second without fucking you is making him lose his sanity. As if he might just sink into the floor with the weight of his need crushing him entirely.

He nibbles at your earlobe, earning a low whine from your chest. You tilt your head in invitation for his affection, kissing up the column of your neck and tasting the water on your skin tangled with the smell of his brothers. He makes eye contact with Crosshair, and they communicate silently as they spin you around and switch roles.

Hunter licking into your mouth and letting his hand run down to your hip and pull you to him. Expecting the press of Crosshair to your back, you’re startled when you feel the graze of his teeth on your ass. His palms run over the smooth skin, kneading the flesh and watching it move in response to his touch.

Crosshair splays a hand on the small of your back, urging you to lean forward. You glance over your shoulder as he spreads you open and licks a stripe across your asshole. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine, you hear a chuckle as he presses the pad of his thumb into you and watches you with a hungry stare.

Hunter distracts you, kissing you slowly and running his hands soothingly down your back as Crosshair preps you to take him until he’s working two fingers in and out of you and sucking a bruise into your hip to match the one adorning your throat.

You nibble on Hunter’s lip, and bury your hands into his hair, tugging at the root living for the whimpers you get out of him. Crosshair kisses his way up your spine, standing straight, and this time you see them. There’s a small nod of agreement and both of them turn their full attention to you, “You gonna let us fuck you cyar’ika?”

Without hesitation, you nod. You’re not able to explain, how you were able to wrap your arms around Hunter as he hoisted you up his waist and you sank down onto his length. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the way he demanded your submission through the tone of his voice. No, you thought, it was the way he sounded like he was begging you, he commanded your attention but the way he used his authority had you believing that you, and what he asked of you, was the most important thing in the galaxy. You wanted nothing more than to give him everything he asked for and more.

They give you a moment, Hunter biting his lip as your cunt squeezes him like you haven’t already come three times already. You throw an arm around Crosshair’s neck opening your legs just enough for him to slot himself against you and slowly push into you with the cant of his hips.

He goes incredibly slow, sawing his hips back and forth and relishing in the feeling of Hunter’s cock also nestled deep inside you making you impossibly tighter and the friction of your walls against him.

It feels like too much, pain and pleasure mixing in an enchanting cocktail of stimulation, yet still the familiar tug of an orgasm stirs in your belly. You suppress a sob at the idea of coming for a fourth time around the both of them. They hush you, nuzzling against you and pressing righteous and thankful kisses to your skin, “Look at you, pretty girl.” Crosshair’s voice is so low and drawn out that it takes every last shred of your concentration to hear what he’s saying, “You look so good taking everything we give you.”

The inflection acts like a highlight reel, your body remembering along with your brain the feeling of being the center of attention during your first orgasm. The complexity of your second. The white-hot stretch of Wrecker using and worshipping your body filling you to the brim during the aftershocks of your third. Hunter whispers against the shell of your ear, “Good girl.” Reading the signs of your body and feeling the crest of your orgasm build around him, and pulling you over the edge with his praise.

He presses his forehead to yours as he follows close behind, senses overwhelmed and fighting the bend to his knees as they buckle with the intensity of his climax.

Crosshair pumps into you from behind, lifting one of your legs slightly and changing the angle so he can thrust deeper grinding into you, and urging you to lean more heavily on him to keep the three of you from collapsing as he stills and spills into you.

The three of you pant in silence, ragged breath lost in the noise of the water hitting the metal floor of the fresher, you wordlessly separate. The endorphins running through your bloodstream turn your muscles' pain into a blissful ache you never want to forget.

#polybatch #poly!badbatchxreader #poly x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #clone force 99 #the bad batch #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mandoa #no clonecest

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oillipheist9000 · 9 months ago

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Heyy

So, this is mostly just a fun timeline I made with little research backing it, but I thought it might be cool to share?

It goes through what historical events happened throughout Alastor’s life that might have impacted him and sets the stage for what his life might have looked like. It does hinge quite a bit on US history, so I will also touch on parts of that for our friends who aren’t from the US and don’t know : D

Now keep in mind that this is more of just a list of fun facts that i’ve shoved into a readable outline, than anything put together lol.

Alastor is said to be in his 30’s or 40’s when he died in 1933, this puts his year of birth at a rough range of 1890-1900. For the purpose of this timeline, I will be assuming that Alastor was born in the year 1902 because I want to. This would make him 31 at the time of his death.

In 1892, the supreme court ruled on Plessy vs Ferguson, which was what established the idea of ‘Separate but Equal’ <- (i'm assuming people know what that is and stuff, if you don’t know, feel free to ask, I can give more of a history lesson)

From 1900-1909, education past the 5th grade did not EXIST in New Orleans for black children. This is a large part of why I believe a birth year of at least 1900 would be more accurate for Alastor, as he would have been 7-9 (2nd-4th) when middle school (6th-8th) became available to him.

In 1917, McDonogh No. 35 High School became the first public high school for black teens. Alastor would have been 15 in my timeline. This means that he would have likely been out of school for a year under the assumption that he wouldn’t be able to go anymore. (There were a couple private schools, but those were Expensive!!)

1920: KKK reemerged in Louisiana <- (again, assuming people know the history on this, if you would like a quick history lesson, lmk!!)

In 1921, Alastor graduated! Yay!! He is now 19!

Now, a fun fact! Throughout all of this, radio has not existed as a Thing in New Orleans. Alastor would not have grown up listening to the radio. It would have been new tech for him!!

In 1922, the first radio station came to New Orleans!!! It’s called WWL and it runs … drumroll please … ADS!!! In an attempt to raise funds for Loyola University! Exciting, right? : D

By 1927, the Federal Radio Commission was established in an effort to help organize airwaves, which had become messy and disorganized from the abundance of unlicensed, random people broadcasting.

1933: Alastor dies D:

Also 1933, oddly enough, A newspaper somehow managed to get radio stations in New Orleans legally banned from airing news from the last 24 hours?????

An interesting note. This ban went through in the summer. Deer season is in the winter (Dec-Jan), so it was either banned 6 months before or 6 months after Alastor’s death

1934: FRC is replaced by the Federal Communications Commission

This is pretty much all I have. I also am including some of the links to sources that I thought were interesting. Super open to discussions and questions lol. Hope someone enjoyed reading all this lmao

And also @nunalastor cause you seemed interested and I finally got everything together lol

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor

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ellstronaut · 25 days ago

Text

[ ◉¯] tlougram [ ◉¯]

#just a silly AU

ellie is typing. . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] ellie’s account reads like a tech-illiterate-social-degenerate

[ ◉¯] girl literally has 3k followers (boggles her mind how it’s even possible) all of varying degrees of sketchiness

[ ◉¯] her bio’s literally just her initials—ew (yep thinks she’s hilarious ) paired with “space is cool ig” [insert shitty space emoji]

[ ◉¯] tbh—she doesn’t really get the whole “influencer” thing (like what is she influencing???)

[ ◉¯] like the only reason she finally caved and made an account to begin with is because dina and jesse practically bullied her into it

[ ◉¯] which shows—her feed is a hot mess of random pics; memes, a random cat video she saved on her gallery

[ ◉¯] and don’t expect to be fed either—her account is D.E.A.D (you’d be setting yourself up for disappointment)

[ ◉¯] definitely the type to forget she even has an account

[ ◉¯] but best believe—when she does post, its spaced out between 2-3 months

[ ◉¯] maybe a handful of artsy-fartsy pics somewhere in between

[ ◉¯] but most of her pics are literally just sketches (she drew at the back of her physics book) random crap she thinks is funny, memes that only make sense to her, n the occasional trip to the museum/nature pics

[ ◉¯] and like a grand total of one—just one selfie (and yes she did delete the rest)

[ ◉¯] fun fact: she may or may not have accidentally liked one of Dina’s/Cat’s old selfies on a burner account

[ ◉¯] tried to do damage control by unliking almost immediately

[ ◉¯] since we’re being messy—(swears she’d kill anyone on site who dares bring that up but whatever) she once got a chat request from a bot thinking it was a real person 💀

[ ◉¯] spent weeks on end flirting and ofc had to gush about it (like the true degenerate she is)

ೃ༄

spacenerd: dude shes hot

제시: whos hot

[spacenerd has sent an attachment]

dinasure: uh ellie

spacenerd: ??

dinasure: gonna hold ur hand when I say this 😃

spacenerd: she replies quick tho plus shes really nice ;)

제시: bet

spacenerd: huh

제시: bro so is siri

spacenerd: siri cant say stuff like rate my tits??

dinasure: issa bot u moron 💀

[spacenerd has sent a voicenote]

▷ 0:00 ───|────── 0:30

dinasure: fuck no

dinasure: bro just block

제시: ^yea pretty sure @bot_bae ain’t real 😭

spacenerd: SHE SO IS

dinasure: chile…anyways so

spacenerd: u know wat

[spacenerd has left the chat]

dinasure: LMAOO cryingsh

dinasure: think u hurt her feelings

제시:no cap that is sad

dinasure: real like how tf u gonna get catfished by a bot and fall in LOVE 🙃

제시: YEAH bro really down bad for ( . )( . )

dinasure: PLSSSJH

[spacenerd has joined the chat]

spacenerd: IT WAS A GOOD BOT OK

dinasure: i have more chemistry with chatgpt

spacenerd: stfu

spacenerd: n D u dont get to come for me when u deadass fucked a twilight bot

dinasure: bitch its called rp

dinasure: n that was like ONE time

spacenerd: me when i lie

dinasure: i like my men less sparkly now!!!

jesse is typing . . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] unlike ellie—jesse takes his social media presence very seriously

[ ◉¯] got like +8k followers (most of which are girls) cause that man is a snack (duh)

[ ◉¯] his whole vibe is mellow but cool

[ ◉¯] like his IG feed reads like an episode of Crazy Rich Asians (with the extra added thirst traps of course)

[ ◉¯] aka a perfectly curated mix of aesthetic photos, artsy shots, friends/family and ofc his dog Yeontan

[ ◉¯] definitely the type of boyfriend to post unflattering pics of his gf but not out of malice

[ ◉¯] but you know in a—i’m obnoxiously in love sorta way

[ ◉¯] he may be bilingual but he’s very much in touch with his culture—like dude got a bunch of pics of him back in the Motherland

[ ◉¯] ellie low-key tries to get him to teach her a few curse words in Korean but like 99% of the time ends up teaching her the wrong words instead

[ ◉¯] ofc his username is in hangul— (if anything it’s to make his mom happy—because yes he follows her back on Insta)

[ ◉¯ ] and yes he’s such a boy mom—dina and ellie give him a ton of shit for it

ೃ༄

spacenerd: totally know what that means frfr

dinasure: oppa?

제시: 죽을래?

google translation: you want to die?

[ ◉¯] it’s an inside joke, lord knows how many kpop stans flood his dms—in which he makes the point to block them on site (as he should lol) because korean he may BE—your oppa he is NOT

[ ◉¯] yeah—he makes it pretty damn clear in his bio “yall gotta stop with the BTS shit”

dina is typing . . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] Dina’s THAT bitch

[ ◉¯] got like +30k followers—is the whole package; hot—effortlessly cool, funny, charismatic (it’s literally unfair)

[ ◉¯] ofc she’s been scouted by at least three modelling agencies

[ ◉¯] and her pictures? flawless—we’re talking gorgeous—goddess-esque—baddie

[ ◉¯] literally the worst part about being friends with Dina: is how ridiculously photogenic she is

[ ◉¯] can roll up out of bed, unshowered, bare-faced and still look hot af (god has favourites I suppose)

[ ◉¯] definitely the type to have the most engagement (via replies, comments, shares, tagged—you name it)

[ ◉¯] absolutely loves sharing her hot girl adventures/outings—fr the embodiment of hot girl summer

[ ◉¯] expect an assortment of her hiking, visiting galleries, cafés, festivals + parties, and of course her many different fits (not that anyone’s complaining)

[ ◉¯] bio reads: my mom thinks I’m cool

[ ◉¯] don’t get me started on her simps—if delulu were a person, it would be Dina’s cult of fanboys

[ ◉¯] one time a dude wrote her poetry—straight up typed a whole ass sonnet ( Shakespeare reincarnate but in simptongue)

[ ◉¯] in which of course her friends had to add their two cents

ೃ༄

spacenerd: its always ily but never

spacenerd: my queen i kneel, my heart it weeps 😞

제시: lmaooooo 💀

[ ◉¯]not just down bad— we’re talking the most absurd, thirsty/depraved comments—

whitedevil commented: Id let you ruin my life

christian.not.jay commented: feet? 🤤

chrislovesyou commented: looked at my girl and sighed

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] imagine the heartbreak if they ever found out she has a whole ass man (cue what does she SEE in him)

[ ◉¯] so much salt it could fill a whole an entire ocean

cat is typing . . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] Cat’s account oozes creativity—doodles, sketches, watercolour—digital art the whole nine yards

[ ◉¯] her feed is basically one giant art gallery—like an extension of her art portfolio

[ ◉¯] so if you’re looking for an artsy feed, look no further

[ ◉¯] def an alt girlie (lowkey goth/punk lite) aka dark and edgy but with a soft side to her

[ ◉¯] and by lowkey I mean a beautiful—soft, kind of morbid artistry

[ ◉¯] the vibes she exudes with the outfits, piercings, the makeup and tattoos? (Chefs kiss) high key hot but intimidating

[ ◉¯] not too keen with the whole parasocial thing— “eh it’s nice having people look at my work, but not for me” kinda vibe

[ ◉¯] the type to solely use it for promotional purposes that and activism (btw NOT just for the brownie points like would deadass go outside, touch grass and do something about it)

[ ◉¯] definitely advocates for the environment—supports charities and organizations who fight against systematic oppression (racism, misogyny, etc.)

[ ◉¯] which is one of many reasons why Ellie’s got a huge fat ass crush on her (if it wasn’t already so obvious)

[ ◉¯] proudly Asian—wears it like a badge of honour and is the first to call out racists (and homophobes) any KIND of bigotry tbh

[ ◉¯] her bio reads—“life’s too short for shitty music” and “gay btw” :)” y’know for the losers that might need a little disclaimer

[ ◉¯] not a fan of stupid Asian stereotypes

[ ◉¯] you just know she gets a ton of gross fetishizing DMs (like why do they ALWAYS have an anime pfp)

[ ◉¯] because ruthless she can be with her clap backs

ೃ༄

tagging my besties @bonnibelblanca @adhdprincess ily

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x dina #tlouellie #tlou2 #ellie williams imagine #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou #ellie x fem reader #tlouedit #ellie williams x female reader #makingemi #gonna make one for Abby’s crew

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hookhausenschips · 1 month ago

Text

Episode 2: Under The Neon Lights

Main Menu

Summary: In Episode 2, Y/N and her friend Zara immerse themselves in the lively F1 paddock in Singapore. There, Y/N meets Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc and shares some playful exchanges with Lando Norris and Max Verstappen. They bond over the adrenaline of underground racing, but when Y/N receives an invitation to a street race that night, she feels drawn back to her roots and opts to leave the F1 excitement behind.

WC: 2k

Warnings: Language, Dangerous Behaviour, Intense Situations, Romantic/Flirtatious Interactions, Class and Culture Differences

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

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Later that evening

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and Singapore’s night skyline was lighting up in brilliant neon. The city buzzed with life, energy pulsing through the streets, but none more so than around the Marina Bay Street Circuit. The soft hum of engines in the distance was like a constant reminder of why I was here, and the air crackled with anticipation for the race that Sunday.

I was hanging back near the paddock after exploring a few garages on my own, feeling a little out of place but also oddly curious about this world. My street racing instincts made me analyze every car, every conversation, comparing it to my world back home. Everything here was so… polished. Precise. The opposite of the raw, gritty thrill of the streets. But damn if the engineering didn’t fascinate me. I couldn’t help but respect the sheer mastery behind these machines.

Just as I was contemplating heading back to the VIP lounge for the evening, Zara appeared, her tall figure striding confidently through the paddock.

“There you are, Y/N! I’ve been looking all over for you,” she called, a wide grin spreading across her face.

I grinned back, pushing myself off the barrier I’d been leaning on. “Was just getting my bearings. This place is… different.”

Zara chuckled, nodding knowingly. “Yeah, it can feel a bit stiff compared to the streets. But once you’re in, it’s pretty wild. Come on, I promised you a proper tour of the garages, didn’t I?”

“Thought you forgot about me for a second there,” I teased, falling in step beside her.

“As if I could. You're the only street racer crazy enough to walk into an F1 paddock like you own it,” Zara shot back with a wink.

We weaved through the paddock, Zara pointing out different garage entrances and dropping names of team members she’d met over the years. It was surreal being so close to the heart of the action, even if I wasn’t completely sold on the whole F1 scene. The exclusivity and the hype felt so distant from what I knew. But at the same time, the adrenaline pumping through the air wasn’t that different from the streets back home.

“Did you get a good look at any of the cars earlier?” Zara asked, slowing as we approached another garage.

“I checked out a couple, but I wouldn’t mind seeing more,” I admitted. “The tech’s insane. It’s like… everything’s stripped down to pure speed. I get why people lose their minds over these things.”

Zara smiled. “I knew you’d appreciate it. These engineers live and breathe for every millisecond. Come on, let’s check out one more garage before things get too busy.”

We were about to head toward the Red Bull garage when suddenly, someone stepped into my path. I wasn’t paying attention, caught in conversation with Zara, and I collided into a solid chest.

“Whoa, easy there!” a voice chuckled, steadying me by my arms.

I looked up, and my heart did a double take. Charles Leclerc. The Ferrari driver that Zara had mentioned on some occasions. The Charles Leclerc. His green eyes sparkled under the dim paddock lights, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Sorry about that,” I said, quickly stepping back and shrugging off his grip. “Didn’t see you.”

“No harm done,” Charles replied smoothly, his Monegasque accent wrapping around the words. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I don’t remember seeing you around.”

I gave him a once-over, keeping my expression neutral. “Just passing through. VIP guest for the weekend. You?”

Charles chuckled at my dry response, clearly amused. “I guess you could say I’m here every year,” he said with a wink. “Charles Leclerc. Ferrari.”

“I know who you are,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “The whole world knows who you are.”

“Ah, so you’re a fan then?” He leaned in slightly, clearly enjoying the banter.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I shot back, smirking. “I’m here for the cars, not the celebrities.”

Zara, standing beside me, stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange.

Charles, however, wasn’t deterred by my lack of awe. If anything, it seemed to pique his interest. “Well, I’ll have to make sure you leave Singapore with a better impression of us drivers, then,” he said smoothly, flashing a smile that probably made half the paddock swoon.

I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze. “Good luck with that.”

Before he could respond, Zara tugged on my arm. “Come on, Y/N, we’ve got more to see. You can let Charles try his luck another time.”

Charles chuckled, giving me a slow, lingering glance as Zara led me away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t deny the flicker of amusement that crossed my face as we walked away.

“That was… something,” Zara said once we were out of earshot.

“Was it?” I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “He’s just like every other guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world.”

Zara laughed. “Charles can be charming when he wants to be. Looks like he was laying it on thick for you.”

“He’ll have to try harder if he wants to impress me,” I said with a grin. “Let’s go see the damn cars already.”

---

Later that night, after Zara had to leave for a meeting with some motorsports people, I wandered back to the garages on my own. I wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet, and the hum of the engineers working late on the cars was like a siren’s call.

I found myself at one of the garages, watching an engineer tweak something on a Red Bull car. The precision and care they took with every adjustment were insane. I couldn’t help but think about how different it was from my world, where we often fixed our cars on the fly, piecing things together with whatever we had on hand.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a guy, maybe in his early twenties, standing next to me. He had messy brown curls and bright blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. His boyish grin practically screamed trouble, and he looked like the kind of guy who didn’t take things too seriously. He was casually leaning against a wall, his arms folded across his chest as he watched me with amusement.

“I guess you could say that,” I replied, tilting my head. “Though I’m more used to doing this in the back alleys with fewer people watching.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Street racing, huh?”

“Something like that,” I said, watching as the engineer made another adjustment to the car. “You’d be surprised how similar it is. Different tools, but the heart of it’s the same.”

The guy grinned wider. “Yeah? Maybe I should come check it out sometime. Could use some tips for when I’m not behind the wheel of an F1 car.”

I chuckled. “You wouldn’t last a minute in my world. Too… corporate for the streets.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Give me some credit. I can handle myself.”

Before I could respond, another voice cut in. “Trust me, he couldn’t.”

I turned to see a taller guy approaching, his posture exuding a quiet intensity. He had sharp features, dark blond hair, and piercing blue eyes that studied me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. He wore a subtle smirk, like he was used to people underestimating him, and there was something about him that screamed competitive.

The guy with the curly hair looked between us, laughing. “Oh great, now I’ve got backup.”

“Backup?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow at the new guy. “You think you could handle it?”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening just a fraction. “Maybe. Depends on the stakes.”

The tension between us was palpable, but not in a bad way. This guy was definitely sizing me up, trying to figure out what made me tick. It was clear he was used to being in control, but he wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge. I wasn’t either.

“Well,” I said, crossing my arms, meeting his intense gaze, “if you’re ever looking for a real race, let me know.”

The new guy grinned, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The guy with the curly hair laughed, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got two drivers to impress now, Y/N.”

I raised an eyebrow, finally realizing I didn��t know either of their names. “And you are?”

The curly-haired guy flashed me a charming grin. “Lando. Lando Norris.”

“And I’m Max,” the other guy said, his voice steady and confident. “Max Verstappen.”

I shrugged, smirking at both of them. “I’m not here to impress anyone. Just here for the cars.”

Max’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before he nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Fair enough.”

As the night deepened and the paddock began to quiet down, I found myself smiling. I wasn’t here for them. I wasn’t here for anything but the love of racing and the thrill of being in this world. But if they thought they could charm me or impress me, they were in for a surprise.

The streets were where I belonged, but I could play in their world for a while, just to see how it felt.

As I stood between Max and Lando, the night was cooling down, but the energy in the paddock was still electric. We were casually chatting about racing—well, they were, mostly. I was just soaking it all in, adding a comment here and there when something caught my interest. Max was explaining some technical detail about cornering in wet conditions when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I glanced down, the screen lighting up with a message that had my heart immediately picking up speed.

“Race tonight. Few hours. You in?”

It was from one of my street racing contacts. The kind of text that made me forget where I was for a moment, pulling me right back to what felt like my real life. The pulse of the streets. The thrill of an illegal race, the adrenaline, the danger. I’d come to Singapore for F1, but now, the familiar rush of street racing was calling me, and it was a pull I wasn’t sure I could ignore.

Lando noticed the shift in my expression. “Everything okay?”

I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, meeting his curious gaze. “Yeah, just… something came up.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing I was hiding something. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who ‘just something came up’ applies to.”

I laughed softly. “You’d be surprised.”

Lando leaned in a bit, looking intrigued. “What is it? Sounds like something fun.”

I hesitated for a second. This was my world, not theirs. They had their pristine tracks and multi-million-dollar teams backing them. Street racing wasn’t just dangerous; it was raw, illegal, and lived in the shadows. Telling them about it felt like breaking some kind of unspoken rule. But at the same time, part of me was curious how they’d react.

“Let’s just say there’s a race happening tonight,” I said slowly, testing their reactions.

Max’s eyes sharpened, his posture shifting slightly. “A race? Here? What kind?”

“The kind you don’t advertise,” I replied with a smirk. “A street race.”

Lando’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Like… an underground race?”

“Exactly like that,” I confirmed, watching their expressions closely.

Max seemed to consider this, his usual calm demeanor shifting just a little. “You race in those often?”

I shrugged casually. “It’s where I come from. It’s what I do. Street racing’s a whole different game than this.” I gestured to the glitzy F1 surroundings. “But the adrenaline? The speed? It’s the same.”

Lando, always the curious one, leaned in closer, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Are you racing tonight?”

I met his gaze, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. “Thinking about it.”

Max crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but clearly interested. “Why not just race here on the track? Why risk it in the streets?”

I smirked, looking from Max to Lando. “You guys have the luxury of controlled environments, state-of-the-art technology, teams with backup plans, safety nets. In street racing, it’s just you, your car, and the road. No guarantees. No room for mistakes. And no rules.”

Lando whistled, clearly impressed. “Sounds wild.”

“You have no idea,” I replied, a familiar rush of adrenaline creeping into my veins at the thought of hitting the streets again.

Max narrowed his eyes slightly, watching me closely. “You ever think about going pro instead of in the streets?”

I shook my head, the answer coming easily. “Never. The streets are where I belong. It’s unpredictable. Real. There’s no comparison.”

There was a beat of silence as both Max and Lando absorbed what I’d said. I could see the gears turning in their heads, trying to wrap their minds around a world that was so different from theirs.

Max finally spoke, his tone thoughtful. “Sounds like you live for that kind of chaos.”

I met his gaze head-on, unflinching. “I live for the freedom. Pros are incredible, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about the streets… it’s addictive. You don’t have to answer to anyone, don’t have to play by anyone else’s rules.”

Lando grinned, clearly itching to learn more. “So… can we come watch?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think this scene is your style, Norris.”

Lando pouted in mock disappointment. “Come on, I can handle a bit of chaos.”

Max, on the other hand, looked more serious, his intense gaze still focused on me. “You sure it’s safe?”

I smiled, the rush of anticipation bubbling under my skin. “It’s never safe. That’s the whole point.”

Another buzz from my phone made me glance down again. Time was ticking. If I was going to make the race, I needed to leave soon. But standing here with two of the biggest names in F1, something struck me—this weird, unexpected overlap between their world and mine. Maybe they didn’t get it, but they were curious. And in some strange way, that made me feel… seen.

I looked back up at them, a grin spreading across my face. “I’ve gotta go. Race is starting soon.”

Lando’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “So, what? You just… show up and race?”

“Pretty much,” I said, turning to leave. “Wish me luck.”

Max stepped forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he wanted to say something else. “Good luck, Y/N.”

I gave them a quick nod, feeling the adrenaline already building in my chest. I could feel their eyes on me as I walked away, disappearing into the paddock lights. My pulse was already pounding, my mind switching gears from the clean, controlled world of F1 back to the gritty, dangerous streets where I belonged.

As I made my way toward the exit, I could already hear the low roar of engines in the distance. The night wasn’t over yet, and neither was the thrill. The streets were calling. And I was more than ready to answer.

Shoot me a message if you would like to be added to the Taglist!

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witchofthesouls · 11 months ago

Note

I would love to see you write some more culture differences between the bots and humans. If you wouldn’t mind :0 I wish we saw some in TFP

Same here. I love seeing world-building and deep lore, especially with other fantasy/sci-fi civilizations.

TFP gave us so much and so little at the same time. It's like going to a restaurant, you have a drink and great appetizers, so you're constantly waiting for the entrée that isn't coming!

TFP is also really fascinating when looking at it with the lens of the caste system and its deep roots within and among the 'bots, even their reduced circumstances. I get the feeling that Optimus is way more casual in way with his team than what the decorum would demand, even with his barriers.

The Autobots would find human cityscapes as quaint. Even the dense sprawls of megacities with towering high rises are paltry reminder of what they're used to.

Cybertron was a planet where its wilds had been tamed. Either reshaped or completely stripped. The Wastelands is/was an apt name for the baren landscapes outside the established city-states.

It wasn't just a large difference in public transport and zoning and sheer scale. It was also the functional design and architecture.

City-states mimicked the layouts of Titans' ground alt-modes. They didn't sprawl outward. Those had set perimeters based on Titans' outer defenses. Instead, the cities expanded up or down.

It wasn't limited to just a parking structure or secretive bases. Whole levels housed entire communities of what castes resided there: occupations, hospitals, sewage, refineries, restaurants, entertainment, and so much. Some mecha go without ever seeing the sunlight or feel real wind, especially those at the lowest of the system. The lowest castes are set all the way at the bottom, among ancient tech and dilapidated buildings. Sorting and recycling what could be kept and what must be sent back to the upper levels.

The concept of "open to the public" would confuse the Autobots. The Golden Age operated its society under the strict overview of a caste system, which expanded to "where" and "what" individuals of a caste could access.

Monster truck rallies fall under bloodsport to them. Bulkhead once scavenged money to watch and do small bets at high-stakes drift racing and lower-tier gladiator matches below the ground. Mecha still had to pay entrance fees to it.

Parks were under the Artisanal caste. Blending murals of legends, careful tending to fauna that are functionally extinct that was tailored to the agreed aesthetic, live music from specific pupils of masters, playing on instruments that merged with the gardens, so it was difficult to tell what was a tool and a plant or animal. And entry to any of it was only allowed for certain castes.

Universities were thriving, self-contained communities, and major points of power. No one off the list would be allowed into its grounds. All visitors and short-term guests were deeply screened and monitored. There is no such thing as "dropping by." Everything is meticulously planned and prepared. Unless a faculty member personally vouches for a guest, they must heed the numerous rules or a risk permanent banning.

Academia had long since been territorial over its talents and quality of its programs and people. They refuse to allow anyone outside its jurisdiction to bully one of its own. No matter the rank or caste, it will close its inescapable jaws around an outsider.

The fact that someone could go to a private university and simply jog upon its grounds is mind-boggling to the 'bots.

As well as libraries and their courses and workshops. So anyone can go? Anyone?! Everyone has access to the knowledge!? Can anyone simply go join a seminar on local gardening? Anyone can just go to a playground and start swinging or playing basketball or flying a kite or dancing to music? Anyone?

Bulkhead had a lot of questions for Jack and Raf since they're locals compared to Miko.

"So anyone can go?"

"Yeah. I used to spend my recess looking up bird anatomy and Ancient Greece and Egypt."

"You had a thing for ancient civilizations?" Raf asked.

"Doesn't everyone?" Jack shrugged. "Pharoahs and gladiators and old gods? We ate that up with mystery books or Goosebumps."

"I read Sherlock Holmes and the Chronicles of Narnia."

"Those are classics. Hey, did you get into The Lo-"

"Hold up," Bulkhead cut in, crouched down and leaning more forward, as if sharing a secret and quietly ask, "So anyone?"

"Yes. Anyone." Jack repeated, rapidly firing off each point with a finger. "Their family. Their friends. Their classmates. Their coworkers. Their pe-"

"Even, let's say, a construction worker. He could just go inside and pick up, I don't know, quantum physics? Anatomy of any frames? Gardening?"

"Sure." Raf squinted and moved to wipe off his glasses with his sleeves. "Clubs and people like to donate more to expand the base. Some of the college professors even leave early editions of their textbooks." Raf readjusted his glasses and beamed. "It's for easier access people and for an industrial copier."

"Oh..." There was a wealth of meaning in that small noise.

"You..." Jack struggled on the concept. Perhaps giant metal aliens didn't need books and could download information from their own internet. "You don't have libraries or schools?"

"No. We did." Bulkhead sighed. "I just wasn't allowed into them."

Out of all of them, Miko would be the to come the closest to understanding them in some ways. 出る杭は打たれる. The nail that sticks out gets hammered in.

As a transfer student from Japan, Miko does have instances of culture clashes with her American classmates and host family.

She's loud. She knows that. But Americans are a different breed with no restraint. In some ways, admirable. In others, incredibly frustrating.

Miko is used to a far heavier workload with long hours after-school and a busy city life. Jasper qualifies between a small and large town that she can't walk around easily on her own with the blazing heat and bitter cold nights and the lack of a car or a bike.

Detention in the US is a joke to her. Stay in school after it's over? She's used to doing that back at home with clubs and cleaning it. On a Saturday? Same thing. Some clubs back home ran long hours over the weekend. Do homework? She already finished it during lunch or between classes because she wants all the other time to herself and the 'bots.

Because Bulkhead gets a realization just how free the kids' social mobility is, he tries to get on Miko over her scrapping at school and her assignments, especially after Ratchet's high jacking their science projects resulted in failure. And that was another strange blow since Ratchet is a medic and a scientist. She's smart and quick and can be rough around the edges and so everywhere, and, to him, Miko deserves everything she could want in her short life. (And wasn't that also a terrifying concept to grasp? To just live and die under a single vorn?)

At first, Miko was getting annoyed because it's similar to the well-meaning nagging her host family does, but she reads the worry he has, and they have to really sit down and speak and soothe over his misunderstandings.

It comes as a huge surprise to her that Bulkhead can just download a language into him. Context and colloquialisms would be missing, and he needs work because he's a mix between extreme formality and, much to her delight, yakuza. And it's all because of her own frustration that English is her second language.

#ask #transformers #transformer prime #tfp #cultural misunderstandings #culture clash #miko nakadai #bulkhead #jack darby #raf esquivel #my writing #maccadam #ahhhh the golden age was terrible #lets agree on thay #really god damn terrible #bulkhead has motherhening tendencies pass it on

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