#his face is apparently on the side of the cube from all the times he turns away out of fear while watching scary movies... that's so cute...

[twerkyvulture]

Been playing lots of We ❤ Katamari Reroll lately and I find myself drawn to Shikao. So here's a headcanon that's been rolling around in my head!

I was surprised at Shikao's choice of car at first but now it makes perfect sense. You always see him watching TV in front of the electronics store, so I think they offered him a job in their warehouse!

Shikao is no doubt very proud of himself for getting his forklift certification, and wants to master the forklift mech next. Nobody has clued him in yet that forklift mechs aren't a real thing.

[ryomens-vixen]

90s Boyfriend Toji

CW: Toji is a warning all on it's on, daddy kink, 90s Toji, mentions of drvg selling, smut, slight aftercare if you squint, hitting, etc.

Word count: 🤷🏾‍♀️ I don't know babes...

Good luck 🤞

Author note: thank you @blkkizzat for the nickname I really didn't know what to call him without being cringe af, I've never wrote for Toji so I hope this is kinda good I'm not too confident in this.

90sBF Toji who loves his son so much that he bought both of them matching gold chains, you could say they're almost like twins in a way, wherever Toji goes you'll definitely see megumi following behind him like the daddy's boy that he is. 

90sBF Toji who listens to artists like Notorious B I G, Tupac, DMX, Ice Cube, Ol Dirty Bastard, Nas, Sir Mix A-lot, and Snoop Dogg. 

90sBF Toji who's street name is “T-Raw” (thanks kali.) Almost all the ladies around his hood know him by that, even those he distributes Kush to, he just got it like that. 

90sBF Toji who'll only kick it with you if his son likes you, he's the most important person in his life. If megumi doesn't like you then it's a wrap. 

90sBF Toji who sells Kush for a living along with another side hustle of his… aka slanging dick, yes this whore of a man sells dick as well. 

90sBF Toji who usually picks up single moms around the corner store from his place. 

90sBF Toji who only lets the ladies that Megumi picks come over the house. 

90sBF Toji who won't settle down with anyone unless his son Megumi likes you which doesn't normally last long. Once you do something Megumi doesn't like you better hope you can fix it before he tells Toji. 

90sBF Toji who constantly makes Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto babysit poor Megumi every time he's hauled off to jail. 

90sBF Toji who is almost always cellmates with his homeboys Shiu and Ryomen who of course nags him about whether or not he wants to see his son

90sBF Toji who's surprised by Megumi suddenly took a liking to you one day. Maybe he had mistaken you for another girl Toji use to fuck on or maybe he just thought “Woah pretty lady” and claimed you to be his new mom, but whatever his son wants, his son gets and Toji ain't arguing with that at all. 

90sBF Toji who started making you, a college student babysit little Megumi who continues to call you “mama” and you have no clue as the whether it's because Toji calls you mamas or if he genuinely thinks you're his mother, either way he's cute with an annoyingly fine ass father. 

90sBF Toji who's more into fuckin than he is romancing, but is willing to put forth the effort to keep you around more. 

90sBF Toji who leaves all his women begging for more, surprisingly he hasn't gotten anyone pregnant by now. 

90sBF Toji who constantly has to reassure you that you're the only one he's laying pipe on, he hates that you have to deal with the Plethora of heart broken obsessed women he's left behind.

 90sBF Toji who fucks you like he like he's trying to get you pregnant. “Fuck- that's some good pussy, Hah- Ngh—” 

“Fu— T.. To..ji! too much, too much!”

The more you begged him to slow down even just a little bit, the more he made it apparent that he wanted his dick in your stomach. God it felt like he was trying to break you- fucking you into the mattress. One hand on the back of your neck, the other on your frontal a fist FULL of hair mind you. It was intense. He wanted yet another orgasm out of you to cream and squirt all over him again, you needed this dick and he was going to give it to you all damn night if he had too. 

Oh did your moans and screams turn him on even more than that ‘O’ face you were making. No wonder everyone called him “T-Raw”. “Shut the fuck up, you've been teasing me with that phat pussy all damn day- Fuuughck—”  Toji said in an annoyed tone as he cocks a hand back and smacks a handprint onto your ass. 

“m'sorry daddy!”

“Nah.. Don't cry now, take this dick, take it mamas.”

Oh boy did he take you down through there, eyes in the back of your head, tongue hanging, tears forming at the corners of those pretty (e/c) eyes. What was this your fifth? Sixth Orgasm? How experienced was this man, this is what you get for fuckin with a grown man like him. There he was beating your back in, creamy white ring formed at the base of his cock from both your pussy juices and his cum fusing together, blunt in mouth. Where'd he get the blunt from? Don't know, but man was his dick good no wonder he had so many women flocking after him. The way he makes you feel it in your stomach was no joke he really knew how to fuck you right. 

90sBF Toji who didn't really fuck with college girl had you wrapped around his fingers… I mean his dick. It didn't matter where or when he wanted that pussy before your classes, after your classes, in your dorm room, his car, it didn't matter to him because he was a nasty old man. 

90sBF Toji who had you chasing behind him wondering where he was taking that dick, YOUR dick, was he gonna start slanging dick again? You didn't know but you felt just like those older women he'd Freak then leave.

90sBF Toji who'd reassure you that he wasn't fuckin anyone else by making sweet love to you. He doesn't need you acting crazy on him. I mean who else is going to watch Megumi besides Satoru and Suguru? 

90sBF Toji who gets a little annoyed when you show up blowing up on him about another woman flocking him again, he gets so annoyed that has to shut you up with cock in that tight throat of yours.

“Now tell me who the fuck do you think you're talkin to again!?” 

“Mmmf- Sowry—” 

“Can't talk with all that dick in your mouth can you, heh…” 

You did your best trying to take it all, but couldn't make it to the base of his cock without gagging and coughing. But that was nothing he couldn't fix, with a smirk on Toji's face he held your head down on his thigh and began to fuck himself into your throat. God did this nasty bitch enjoy hearing your ‘gluck gluck gluck’ sounds coming from you. This slutty man let out a deep bellowing groan at the sensation he was feeling in his groin. It was a tight, and warm feeling making his pace grow sloppier by the minute.

“Nasty ass bitch look at you , mouth full of dick fuuughck Im gonna— gonna c.. Cum-” 

Patting on his leg trying to signal him to slow down so you could breathe, if your face could visibly turn blue it would he was not letting up as he chased his own high. One strong thrust he came deep into your throat, god if he could put all that good dick in your kidneys he would. 

90sBF Toji who isn't too big on aftercare, but since he's down bad for you, then he might just indulge in it, just for you, only for you. 

90sBF Toji who after a good pounding throws a towel onto your body and praises you for taking him so well.

“Fuck, you take dick like a good lil bitch don't yah? What cat got yah tongue?”

“ since Megumi ain't trippin bout yah I guess you'll do for now .”

“How about you get cleaned up, come watch a movie with me.”

90sBF Toji who truly can't believe you're to put up with all his bullshit, even his homeboys think something's wrong with you.

90sBF Toji who hates bringing you over to Satoru and Suguru's place for boys night because it always end in a fight everytime Satoru thinks it's be funny to flirt with you.

90sBF Toji who hates that you have to remind him that you don't want him to end up in jail everytime they fight.

90sBF Toji who starts to grow a lil bit of a soft spot for you, so much that he starts to show you off to his old hoes.

90sBF Toji who randomly shows up to your college class to drop off YOUR son Megumi when Satoru and Suguru cancel on him, leaving all your homegirls to think you're a mother now.

Tags: @blkkizzat @littlemochabunni @honeeslust @gojos-thot-patrol-main @oreo-creampie @screampied(I was told to tag you) @halosdiary @connorsui (I was told to tag you) @biscuitsngravie

[misfit0789]

Miserable

Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: R is tired of being left out at work so they talk to Alessia about it.

Word count: ~ 1k words

Warnings: Shitty bosses, other than that none

Just a short one while I work on a couple longer fics.

Y/n POV

"Y/n, I'll see you at the party tomorrow, right? The one we got for finishing that training?" I look up from the report I'm working on to see my supervisor leaning on my desk. I push back my chair and lean back in my seat looking at him.

"I never knew there was a party even happening. I knew there was a possibility of one but not that one was happening," I say confused. He looks at me surprised.

"Really? I'll forward you the invite," He stands and returns to his desk. I roll my chair back to face my computer and open my email waiting for the invite to arrive in my inbox. I refresh the page and open the email once it loads. I scoff lightly when I see the invite was originally sent two weeks ago.

Seriously? This is the third time I've been left off something in two weeks!

"Thanks for sending it over. I was one of the first done with the training I'm confused how I was missed on the invite." I call back to him as my desk cube is in front of him only separated by the divider.

"I'm not sure, but at least you have it now," he says going back to what he was doing. I sigh and go back to the report.

Later that afternoon…

I sat in the last meeting of the day with my supervisor and other team members who are in the office and not remote today. I open my OneNote to capture the notes from today's meeting before looking up as the lead for the meeting begins to speak.

"So, in out meeting from the other day we discussed-" I immediately stop listening when the other meeting is mentioned the notes long forgotten.

I was never in another meeting with these people. I thought this was the first one.

This is getting ridiculous. I have been fere for over a year and I have been left out of almost everything that has to do with this project and yet they expect me to know what is going on. I'm over it.

I sit quietly and patiently wait for the end of the day so I can go home.

Time Skip

"Babe! You're home!" I smile hearing the voice of my girlfriend of five years.

"Hi, my love," I set my computer bag down on the bench by the door and open my arms to catch her as she runs to me from the kitchen. I wrap my arms around her body tucking my head into her neck, as her arms wrap around my neck holding me close to her. I let out a sigh of relief in her arms tightening my hold on her waist. She holds me having a sense that I need this.

"Rough day?" She whispers into the quiet between us. I nod, she turns her head pressing a kiss to my head. "Why don’t you go freshen up, we'll order take out and spend the night in bed. I nod again and reluctantly release her from my hold before moving towards our ensuite to shower and change.

Once I was showered and changed into an old college t shirt and basketball shorts. I walk into our room to see Alessia in an old jersey of mine from when I played softball in high school and a pair of underwear. She is sat leaning against the headboard, bags from my favorite takeout place in front of her, Law and Order SVU queued up on the TV in our room. I slowly move towards my side of the bed before flopping face down into the mattress.

"What happened today, baby? I've never seen you this bad after work," Alessia asks running her fingers through my hair. I take a minute before I turn onto my side, propping my head up on my arm to look up at her.

"Remember how a few weeks ago I told you that the team was told if we completed all the training before the other teams, they'd give us a pizza party?" She nods, "Well apparently we did that and were given the party, which is tomorrow but they sent the original invite two weeks ago. And now there was other meetings besides the one they sent me to today about the project that they have not included me on. I was lost the entire meeting on what they were talking about because it was a continuation of the previous meetings. I have been with this company for over a year, and they have been excluding me from the start! My supervisor is an ass and won't tell me anything, and he seems to be avoiding me at all costs. Anytime I ask anyone on the team a question they act as if talking to me or helping me is some big inconvenience for them. I just can't take it anymore." I proclaim, dropping onto my back. I lay my arms over my eyes and release a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry baby," I feel the shift in the bed as she moves closer before feeling her hand splay across my chest. "This job was only temporary until you had everything together to be able to open the café. It's all about done now, so tomorrow call them and tell them you quit. We have enough savings to work with until we have money coming in from the café. The girls and I will help in any way that we can. There is no sense in you staying somewhere you are miserable," I remove my arms from my face to look at Alessia. When we make eye contact, she offers me a reassuring smile before she leans down to capture my lips in a kiss. I place my hands on her waist and maneuver her to be straddling my hips.

"What would I ever do without you in my life?" I whisper into the air between us once we part. She chuckles and presses another kiss to my lips before answering.

"Probably live a miserable life," I chuckle and nod before wrapping my arms around her, holding her to me as she buries her head in my neck pressing light kisses there. I let out a sigh knowing that things are going to change for the better.

[revelboo]

The sideswipe and sunstreaker story has been a blast to read!! Talk about being stuck between a rock (sides treating the human like they’re a barely sapient baby animal) and a hard place (sunny being so openly unhappy with the arrangement) lmao

I’ve always had a soft spot for the disaster twins. The very first fanfic I ever wrote was about them years ago

Can’t Finish What You Started Pt 7

Sunstreaker x Reader, Sideswipe x Reader

• “Here.” Startling when a blanket is dropped on your head, you frown up at Sunstreaker and he scowls right back as Sideswipe watches. “You’re not eating,” he adds, reaching out to nudge the box of cereal at you. And then waiting expectantly until you cave and dig out a handful just so he’ll stop hovering and worrying. Ever since the awkwardness of you getting caught singing to him like he was a little kid, he’s been marginally less irritable toward you. A very small margin, but it’s something.

• Uncomfortable with the way you’re smiling up at him and Sideswipe’s own grin, Sunstreaker stalks past to retrieve an energon cube. Leaning a hip against the storage cabinet that you’d taken over as your space. Wheeljack had been busily making human things for all of the little organics after a mixture of angry ranting, pleading, and general miserableness from the Ark’s smallest residents had made it apparent that they were being unwittingly neglected. A big chunk of your space being dedicated to waste disposal and a little wash rack, it’s that space you head toward arms stretched over your head and little hips swaying.

• Watching you disappear under the blankets draped over the crude frame erected around what you refer to as your bathroom, Sideswipe leans his chin on a fist. One time he’d gotten curious enough to lean over the open top of your ‘private’ space. It’d been a surprise to see you without your coverings, wet and disturbingly like a little protoform as you stared up at him, eyes wide. Sometimes before recharge he finds himself thinking about how soft you’d looked, wet and furious. And he hadn’t realized your voice could be so painfully shrill when you were angry. They’d tried to fully enclose the spaces at first, but after Cliffjumper’s had hidden nearly nine hours in theirs refusing to come out until Cliff had started dismantling the walls, the roof, door, and walls were removed on all of them.

• Stripping and stepping into the warm spray, you keep half your attention on the open top of your bathroom. Because Sideswipe is a jerk and a voyeur. While you doubt your wet organic form does anything for him, you still don’t want to be stared at while showering and naked.

• Keeping an optic on Sideswipe to make sure he doesn’t bother you, Sunstreaker runs a polishing cloth over his armor and waits. Not because he cares about your weird human modesty, but because he isn’t the least bit interested in that awful noise you make that Sideswipe seems to find hilarious. Head lifting when the door to their quarters opens, he frowns at Wheeljack and the human he’s carrying cradled to his chassis. “What did your human do?” Wheeljack asks, servos flexing as his leans out dangerously far from his hand to look around. “Are they a medic?”

• “Medic?” Sideswipe asks, setting aside his energon cube. “Someone’s hurt?” One of the tiny organics? Walking past Sunny and ignoring his growled ‘don’t,’ he leans over the blanket draped enclosure. Sees your eyes widen right before you start screaming profanity at him. “Are you a medic?” He asks with a grin, watching as you try to cover yourself with your hands. Leaning back as you throw your little bottle of cleanser at him and miss badly. Screaming at him to get out. “Don’t think they’re a medic.” Laughing when Sunny grabs him by an arm and drags him away.

• Swearing and red faced, you grab one of the torn strips from a blanket that pass as towels and wrap it around yourself, shoving out of the bathroom with soap still in your hair and stinging your eyes. Stopping short when you see the other Autobot and the human in his hand that waves awkwardly at you. That calms some of the fury humming through you at least, fingers tightening on your towel, you exhale. “I am-was a digital artist,” you mutter, aware of Sunstreaker’s head turning to look at you curiously.

Previous

[fourmoony]

May I go on a 𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 with Sirius and #6 if you’re feeling it <3 (I can’t get over how fun this celebration is!! Love you regardless of whether you’re feeling this or not haha)

pls don't stop requesting i'm having so much fun writing these lmao!!!! thanks angel, you're too sweet ♡︎

774 words | cw: none

Sirius is a ball of energy as he weaves in and out of stalls, a bag of cinnamon cookies in one hand and a caramel hot chocolate in the other. He has a pumpkin woollen hat on that Hope, Remus' mum, knit him last year, his hair falling in wild curls out of it. He looks happy. Undoubtedly so. It makes your chest warm, even if the rest of you is absolutely freezing.

You assume he's too excited to notice your sniffling, but when you hit the fifth time in two minutes, Sirius whirls on you to find you trying to wiggle some feeling back into your nose. Your cheeks redden, even more so than the autumn air has already made them. You've been caught.

When you'd told Sirius about the autumn themed market in town, he'd made immediate plans to take you. What you hadn't accounted for, was how high maintenance he'd be about the whole thing. This morning, when you arrived at his apartment, he'd practically reamed you out for not choosing appropriate attire. Apparently, stylish was not the vibe and "keeping all of your lovely limbs from getting frostbite" is.

Sue you, for wanting to look cute.

He'd rambled on for ten minutes about how cold you were going to be and only allowed you to leave the house when you agreed to wear the matching mittens to Sirius' hat.

"Don't even say it, Sirius." You warn him.

Sirius holds his hands up in mock defence, his smile equally as goading as it is knowing. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, doll face." He quips, stuffing the cookies into his jacket pocket and using his now free hand to poke at your cheek.

You try to bat him away whilst fighting off an amused smile.

"Oh, my!" Sirius beams, "Your cheeks are as cold as ice cubes," his pointer finger boops your nose, "Nose, too!"

"I'm fine." You pout, childishly.

It's rare, that Sirius is wholly right about something. You know he's going to milk this all day, now.

"If only you had a handsome, smart, caring, wonderful, boyfriend who could have pre-warned you that this might happen!" Sirius exclaims. Passers by eye you both sceptically, but you're used to the attention with Sirius - always the loudest in any room - Black.

"Okay, enough. I'm fine, really." You shoulder Sirius on, who's still muttering about how amazing he is at predicting the future.

The next few stalls are torturous. Your face only gets colder, your sniffling louder. Sirius refrains from goading you further, but seems to reach the end of his tether when he catches you blowing into your hands and rubbing them on your nose.

He sighs, pulling you to the side and out of the way of foot traffic.

"Okay, give me your face." He says, bluntly.

A startled laugh tumbles from your lips, "What?"

"Give me your face, I'm going to warm it up."

You stare at him perplexed, "Sirius-"

"No, your nose is practically blue. I love you, but I think I'm just vain enough to be less attracted to you if you don't have a nose." Sirius takes your face in his hands.

Your eyes go wide, desperate to fact check whether your boyfriend would actually love you less without a nose, but Sirius already has his entire mouth around your nose. His teeth nip the skin a little teasingly and you huff, resigned to the fate of having a slightly abnormal boyfriend.

You're glad he's pulled you away from the crowds as he blows hot air directly onto your nose. The warmth is welcomed, but his method is arguably questionable.

When he's done, he pulls back and gives you a once over. Then, he removes his scarf and wraps it in bundles around your neck. He presses a final kiss to the tip of your nose, which, thanks to him, you can feel.

"See, fixed it. Nose safe. Lets get some treacle tarts and head home." Sirius says, like he hasn't just tried to eat your nose.

It's a little much to keep up with, so you allow him to guide you, rather stunned, along to the next treat stall. It's not until you're home, in fuzzy pyjamas, with a mug of hot chocolate that you remember to ask, "Would you actually love me less without a nose?"

Sirius looks over, a little alarmed, with a mouth full of cinnamon cookie. He swallows, shrugs, devilish smile on full display. "As long as I'm here to save you, we'll never know."

You scoff, fuzzy socked foot reaching out to kick his thigh.

[solar4seekstron]

Can I request TFA Optimus x Femme Autobot reader? If I can, I have a cute wholesome scenario with some feelings. At the Academy with Sentinel and Elita, Optimus was courting his classmate. But when Archa 7 happened and he was kicked out, they kept in touch via video calls. However, when Team Prime crashed onto Earth, they lost contact with each other. Then the Elite Guard comes to Earth and suddenly the reader is on the ship, having joined Ultra Magnus' crew on the ship. So they reunite and there's some emotions.

I. LOVE. THIS!!!! If you have seen of my other writings (that don’t include smut) I can defiantly write for this scenario! This will be long so Long chapter warning! Anyway I love this idea and I hope I do it justice!!!

TFA!Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!Elite Guard!reader OneShot: Elite Guard

TW/Tags: wholesomeness and fluff so bad you’ll get sick.

It was a normal day at the academy. Orion Pax was named Optimus Prime at last at the time still. Every morning he would walk to class with his friends Sentinel and Elita. The trio were kinda the trouble makers from time to time when they’re spotted in the halls.

Optimus would always try his best to stay out of trouble though.

Once he made it to class he always sat next to a special bot. Someone who always puts a smile on his face. You. You feel the same towards him and you both were pretty shy when near each other at times. They all are at the age in Cybertronian years of being at your mid 20’s and courting is what some bots at the academy did. Though not everyone.

He had been courting you for a good while. Though today he thought he’d give you a small gift. Small energon candy that he noticed while shopping for anything else to give to you. Well that was mostly any other kind of food.

He looked the other way as he set the energon candy on you desk while in one of your classes. You noticed and looked at him with your usual gentle smile “thank you Optimus Prime”

“P-please call me Optimus, Y/N.” He blushed as his cervo rested on the back of his neck.

You chuckled and picked up one piece of the candy. And offered another to him “Please. Accept you.” Optimus doesn’t argue wanting to not deny you,

He takes the cube and eats it as you eat yours. Then classes started.

Some time later the class was outside. You and Optimus were next to each other. Standing with your arms behind your back as you listened to your mentor. He would glance at you every now and then as you did the same. As you two would train together. You both tried your best to not be heard chuckling as you two flirted with each other every time you two sparred.

After the long day everyone was headed to their sleep quarters as you and Optimus walked together. You both stand for a moment. “I’ll uh…see you tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah tomorrow..” you two looked at each other then down both blushing. You were quick to stand closer to him and kiss his cheek. Then runs off “see you Optimus!” You say blushing. He stood there with his blush more blue and had a silly grin.

From afar Sentinel and Elita can be seen watching with their heads tilted and hands on their hips.

“They do this….EVERY! DAY!” Sentinel yells as Elita side eyed him.

“Hmph I would say they’re a distraction…though they ain’t-“ the two groan and know they can’t do anything about it. So the two leave together. That was…until the two got an idea.

The next day you were in your shared class with Optimus. You were so excited and before you knew it. The whole day went by and you didn’t see him at all. You decided to go to one of your mentors and asked for Optimus. You were hot with the painful news. To you it’s painful. Apparently something happened to Elita. Optimus got the blame and Sentinel was allowed to stay. You were sad. Really sad.

You reached out to Optimus after classes and you two talked. He told you it’s best you don’t know. He was too ashamed. You knew Optimus and you trusted his word.

You hated seeing him like this. So you could only video chat with him. You both would call as you continued classes. And he looked for a new job. After a few days Optimus told you he is able to get a job in space bridge maintenance duty with some other bots. All with incredible promise. You were so happy for him…but because he only got more and more busy. You realized your courtship was over and you were so sad. After that other mechs and even fems tried to court you. But they weren’t- they aren’t your prime.

Rodimus was the only friend you could really talk to you. After some time you were finally made prime. And graduated along side Sentinel. You both didn’t talk much even when Magnus requested you both to join his team. The Official Elite Guard. You were part of the team now. Your dream….came true…..

———————————————————————————

It’s been many years since then. One day you were speaking to Jazz. And was interrupted by Sentinel walking in like he owned the place. Apparently one of the maintenance for space bridge duty were finally found their signal. And the possibility the all spark with them. You didn’t have much hope that it was Optimus team. You weren’t even sure what he was up to now.

After some time the ship made its way to a planet full of organic life. You didn’t have anything to say bad about organics. You never met one before but have grown curious.

Once the ship landed, there were these little creatures infront. You stayed in the ship as ordered by Magnus. Keeping an eye out for signals for anything doing with the all spark.

After some time the others return. You turned around and froze. It- it was Optimus!!!! He was talking to a yellow bot but when he looked up he too stopped. Both of your optics meet as the others looked at you two.

“Y/N”

“OPTIMUS??”

“Y/N”

“Wait like Y/N from the academy?” The yellow bot asked

“Yes…that’s them.” He says as you walked over. The other bots on his team jaws drops to the floor as they looked at you. You were pretty well built. Bulky but slim chassis and shoulder plates. A smaller waist and bulky hips. Your legs being the same as you stood tall. (I was thinking a lot similar to Rodimus in the series but with a smaller waist)

You hugged Optimus as the others continue to walk. Sentinel crossed his arms as the boys on primes team looked you up and down.

“It’s so good to see you Optimus!!”

“It’s incredible to see you too Y/N.” The moment is interrupted when Magnus spoke. You and Optimus had to separate as you had to return to standing next to Magnus. After some time Optimus and Magnus spoke and both Optimus, Sentinel, and Magnus both left to the area where Team prime last had their battle with the Decepticons.

You had to stay behind with the other bots as you waited. A bit disappointed you couldn’t stay next to him for a little longer. And so time went. You and Optimus always waved at each other and smiled.

After a few days you asked Magnus if you could explore this planet more. Maybe have one of the bots take you to discover. Magnus agreed and spoke like as if he was your sire. You said you won’t be long and head to team primes base. Little do you know as you drove. Optimus drive right past you. Both of your wheels can be heard stopping as you both recognized each other and transformed.

“OPTIMUS! Oh hey I was just making my way to uh…see you guys!”

“Magnus said you were heading towards us to ask if one of us can help you wonder and see more of the city. Thought…uhm…”

“I’d….like that.” You two stared at each other then down as you both blushed. “We umm…aren’t the young bots we use to be huh…so..Prime?” He asks as you two walked to the base.

“Yeah got picked to work for Magnus and well that’s where I’ve been.” He looked down. “Hey how about we go to the forest in the mountains. He can get a better view of the city from there”

You let out a small chuckle “Sure..I’d love to.”

———————————————————————————

You both drive to the mountain far up with a good view of the city. You transformed and stared into the city. You let out a sigh as you looked at the lights. Optimus behind you as he places his cervo on your shoulder.

“Y/N…I….i want to apologize.” You turned around to look at him. You’re back to the city now.

“I never meant to stop courting you. I-I wanted to find you and finish courting you but I was so scared you-“

“Optimus.” You held his cervos “it’s alright. Life just throws things at you…and maybe what happened was the universe telling us….that it just wasn’t time for us..But- But now! We can have our chance!”

“R-really? You’d still….take me?”

“Is that really a question?”

Optimus couldn’t stop smiling and was about to ask to court you once more. But you interrupted him before he spoke.

“Nope. You can only ask me. No courting.”

“O-ok Y/N will you make me the happiest bot and become My Conjunx?”

“Yes Optimus Prime. I’ll be your Conjunx.” You two stared at each other before holding each other in an embrace. After a moment you two pulled away and stared At each other.

Then at long last both of your dermas connect at last. Your kiss passionate and warm as you slowly close your optics. Both of your spark chambers opening. Allowing you sparks bond and dance together.

You and your conjunx can finally stay together at last.



Sorry that this took a while to make I kept getting busy. I hope you like 😊

[cactusisconfused]

I have yet another idea. (Apologies for any grammar mistakes.) Some magic item turns Ghost into a kid, panic ensues.

-

The mission is straight forward in more ways than one. Intel confirms that the object that they are to be retrieving from the enemy is a highly dangerous weapon- a mission the 141 have ran more times than they could count. When asked about this weapon from Price to Laswell, she gave an easy confirmation, confident in the Intel gained. Confident in the location, the faces who were holding it- hell, they even knew the exact patterns for potential weather. Something so straight forward should’ve been the easiest thing they’ve ever done.

But it wasn’t.

Of course it wasn’t.

The mission itself went fine. The weather was just as it was described to be, same with the amount of people guarding the rusted old warehouse where this weapon of destruction was being stored. All four of the 141 made quick work of the enemies inside and out, eventually leading them to a small room where the weapon is stowed in. Upon entrance, the case sits in a desk, at an angle and on top of scattered pieces of paper. The case itself looks average, silver with black corners.

Soap approaches the case with care and observes it to clarify if the weapon could possibly be hooked up to an explosive or simply even be an explosive. Once he deemed that the four of them wouldn’t turn into a crisp, soap opened the case with swift but efficient hands.

Inside sits…something none of them were expecting.

Instead of a new weapon or some in the works chemical, there sat a black cube with an almost polished obsidian sheen to it. Upon closer inspection, letters are engraved on the edges of each side of the cube in a neat thin line. Soap scrambles to come up with what language is written but comes out with naught. He wonders for a brief moment if the lines are some scrambled code, but again, nothing fit.

With a sigh, soap calls over ghost to inspect the cube. Soap had learned a few months ago that ghost is apparently taken up a fascination with various languages and became very knowledgeable on the subject, something he was apparently into since he was a kid.

Ghost moves over to soap, Gaz taking his spot at covering the door with price. Carefully, ghost leans in, his eyes squinting slightly to focus on the engravings. Soap watches as ghost’s mind works and after a few moments ghost speaks.

“Is it safe to touch?” Ghost’s voice is quiet, a telltale sign that he’s focused.

With a nod Soap speaks, just as quiet. “Aye, don’t see any signs that it’s an explosive. Give it caution though.”

Ghost lets out a slight grunt and switches to hold his gun in his left hand. Carefully he reaches out to the cubic object and grazes the top face of it. The feeling is smooth and cool despite the barrier of his gloves. Ghost hand moves over the letters and sighs.

The letters look more like runes than anything if a Latin or Arabic alphabet. Some look familiar, like the line that cuts through itself at angle could possibly be a T or an X- or he could just be completely wrong. All and all he doesn’t recognize them.

“Got anything L.T?” Soap asks, his eyes flicking between ghost’s searching and the door.

“Negative. I’ve never seen this before.”

“What do you think it is then?” Soap asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Ghost observes the black cube in front of him a moment longer. “Not sure. Could be made up. Either way, we need to get it back to base and evaluated.”

Soap nods and looks towards price. “Package is secure.”

Price opens his mouth to speak to give new directives when the engravings in the cube begin to glow white, constant clicking sound beginning just seconds after.

Before any of them can act, besides price shouting a quick “Get down!”, the room becomes shrouded in a blinding white light- worse than any flash bang any of the 141 have gone through.

The light slowly dims after a few seconds, though it feels much more like an eternity. They all lay prone on the ground for a moment, each trying to blink the tears from their eyes.

“Any of you broken?” Price’s voice is gruff as it cuts through the panic that filled the room. Soap shakes his head and gives thumbs up as he squeezes and opens his eyes in rapid succession.

“I’m good.” Gaz lets out in a breathy tone as he moves to stand, using the door frame as a support. “Bloody hell, was that a flash bang? I didn’t see anyone.”

Price shakes his head, he didn’t see anything either.

“It was that fuckin’ cube. Started glowing and- shit, Simon?” Soap’s eyes finally cleared enough to see ghost on the floor, his body unmoving. He doesn’t understand how it took him and the other two this long to take ghost into account, they just got hit with a bright light, not an RPG. He’ll be the first to say that cube is a fucking curse.

Without a second thought, Soap scrambled over to ghost quickly then pausing just as fast. Simon isn’t- something’s wrong.

Something is very wrong.

Because where Ghost was standing right in front of the case now lays a kid. A scrawny, blonde haired kid with a shiner on his right eyes and a split lip. He looks no more than thirteen.

The room becomes utterly still as the other two realize what they are seeing. Price’s eyes widen in confusion and something akin to dread.

The silence is shattered with a sharp sting as the kid in Simon’s place sits up and rushes to back against the closest wall. The kid’s eyebrows are furrowed in anger, but his eyes are wide. His one brown eyes and one hazel eye. Simon’s eyes.

Shit.

Shit.

“Who are you- where the fuck am I?!” Kid Simon’s eyes flick quickly between Soap, Gaz and Price. Thankfully, Price is quick enough to get through his stupor and speak. The captain makes his face and voice softer- as soft as he can on an active mission.

“Easy son, we’re friendly.” Price puts his hands up in surrender. This however has the exact opposite effect as kid Simon snarls.

“Don’t call me son. Why should I fuckin’ believe you? What do you work with my dad?!” Simon’s British accent is just as thick as ever in his younger voice. The mention of Simon’s dad makes the room feel like it’s spinning. In one swift moment, the room feels like it’s spinning. Price cringes at the comment while Gaz look worried and utterly confused. Soap knows some of Simon’s past, and even then that’s lenient. Soap knows some about ghosts mother, that she was sweet and cared for Simon and his younger brother who he never got a name for. When he spoke of his father- if he ever spoke with of father, it was barely more than a few cut words. Enough to get the impression that Simon’s father wasn’t exactly someone you would want to be around.

Price began to open his mouth after quickly trying to find the right words to dissolve this situation as much as possible, mainly due to the fact that they’re still on an active mission and don’t exactly have all the time in the world. His soon to be words are cut off as footsteps and shouting began to make their way around the building- definitely not friendlies.

“Simon, I know you don’t know what’s going on, we can explain it later. But right now, you need to listen to us.” Soap cuts in, hoping that maybe Simon would at least vaguely recognize soap enough to semi trust them. To his surprise it works, or maybe it’s just the fact that bullets ricocheting off of walls became audible and the kid got scared. Either way, with a low grunt, kid Simon closed his mouth and nodded.

Soap tried giving the kindest smile he could muster and nodded at ghost. Quickly he stood and shut the case containing the cursed cube inside of it. The sound of footsteps have began to grow closer and Gaz and Price are by the door at the ready. Soap checks in gown weapons and tells kid Simon to get behind him.

This is going to be a long day.

-

Wow ok, this became a lot longer than I planned. I might do another part to this because this somehow broke me out of writers block?

For my sanity I’m also gonna put this here (because the internet is weird). Kid Simon and soap ARE NOT TOGETHER because that’s fucking gross.

[luvnami]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - based on this tweet, set in a college!au 𝐜𝐰 - alcohol 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.1k+

Tomioka Giyuu has never quite been a senseless man. Most of the student body know him to be quiet and intelligent, but terrible at reading the room. He definitely was not the type to rock up to a club on a Friday night – Giyuu prefers heading to bed early, and it was many hours past his 10pm bedtime, thank you very much. Besides, there was club training tomorrow and-

“Giyuu!”

Your voice cuts through the club music that causes Giyuu’s eardrums to throb. He looks over to see you squeezing through a throng of sweaty club-goers, twisting your hips this way and that as you half-shout ‘sorry!’ and ‘excuse me!’. 

You had invited Giyuu as your plus one to Mitsuri’s birthday party. He normally would have refused, quoting some sort of fanatical reason that he couldn’t make it, but your argument caused Giyuu to shrivel up inside. 

“It’s not like you have anywhere else to be, do you?”

Giyuu stares off to the side as he remembers what you had said just a few days ago. Your gentle huff of laughter was the final nail in his coffin as he mumbled something along the lines of agreeing to go. You definitely were not wrong, as much as Giyuu hated to admit it. He had nowhere else to be on a Friday night. No one but you would invite him out, though you knew that he usually preferred to spend his nights alone thumbing through a paperback. 

But it was Mitsuri’s birthday! And it had been far too long since you had the opportunity to go out, so it was only natural of you to drag your best friend along. 

“What are you doing here?”

Giyuu shuffles his feet to make space for you as you finally reach him across the club floor. You squint your eyes at the toilet sign hanging above his head, directing drunk patrons to a safe haven for their throw-up. Giyuu has no answer for you. He shrugs weakly, eyes drifting over your frame briefly. 

Glitter on your eyelids catch the flashing lights of the club, turning into specks of a rainbow each time you blink. Giyuu stares at your lips. You had swiped on some gloss that night, and he wonders if your lips had ever looked so-

“Giyuu!”

He snaps out of it. You look crossly at him, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Sorry,” Giyuu mumbles. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to focus on a piece of trash on the club floor. It was more apparent than anything that the poor man wanted to go home. 

“Have you had a drink yet?” you ask.

You raise a plastic cup of swirling liquid, melting ice cubes bumping against each other. Giyuu shakes his head. The moment you entered the club, he had lost sight of you as a sweaty couple shoved themselves rudely into his side. He vaguely remembers them trying to eat each other’s face off. Giyuu had then consigned himself to blend in to the crowd the best he could – at least, his definition of that was sticking to the toilet entrance till you collected him to go home. 

“Come on, you can have a sip of mine.”

Giyuu eyes the cup. There’s a faint lip print on its cusp. He rarely drank, if at all, and Giyuu opens his mouth to protest. But someone must have pushed you from behind, given how your body collides into his with a noise of surprise. 

Giyuu’s brain short circuits. His hands hover above your shoulders. He tries to connect the words to ask if you’re alright. But the music is loud, and the scent of your sweat and perfume hits him, and you’re so warm and and and-

“Asshole!” you shout, sticking a middle finger up at a random person. 

You take a step back and steady yourself. Giyuu is glad that the club is dim, and the lights are dizzying. He hopes you can’t make out the red splotches on his cheeks. He hasn’t even had a sip of liquor yet, but his head spins. 

“C’mon Giyuu. You don’t mind vodka, do you?” 

His eyes dart back to your face as you shove your plastic cup towards him once more. Giyuu protests, but the words disappear in his throat as his head nods yes. You grin. You gently guide him to an empty sofa a few steps away, and Giyuu’s grateful as his weak knees buckle. He falls back onto the fake leather seat and gulps as your feet plant themselves next to his. 

“Tilt your head back for me.”

Giyuu doesn’t like taking orders. But he obeys so easily as your hand cups his chin, thumb digging slightly into the meat of his cheek. 

God. 

Giyuu’s heart pounds faster than the bass-heavy track booming in the background. You place the plastic cup against his lips and he tastes strawberry lip gloss first, before vodka and sprite. He doesn’t know where to look. His eyes want to flutter half-shut as you pour the drink into  his mouth, but your eyes are so focused on his face that Giyuu barely musters enough courage to meet your gaze. 

His Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp. The alcohol burns its way down his throat and into his stomach and Giyuu hopes you can’t feel how his cheeks are on fire. You’re standing so close to him that Giyuu knows he could easily pull you into his lap. He keeps his hands balled tightly into fists, knuckles turning white. 

It’s over as soon as it begins. Ice cubes press against his lips and you pull the cup away, drained of its drink. Giyuu gasps for a breath of air as you pat his cheek once, twice. 

“Good job,” you grin.

Giyuu thinks he’s about to pass out. This is exactly why he stays in his dorm alone on Friday nights – so that he’s safe from you. 

Tomioka Giyuu has never quite been a man of irrationality. But… Perhaps he can be persuaded. 

-

Giyuu clutches the nearby lamp post for stability, the other hand on his knee. He retches into the street as his stomach turns itself inside out.

“Aw, Giyuu! You only had one drink…” you soothe, rubbing circles into his back.

His head spins and Giyuu thinks his eyeballs must have gotten lost somewhere in the back of his brain. He looks up at you with a blank stare and vomit trickling down the side of his mouth. You have to suppress a laugh. 

“I’ll call us a cab back, alright?” 

Giyuu nods, but all he sees after that is black.

“Giyuu!”

[tired-biscuit]

Innocent reader knows nothing about sex but wants to please her current boyfriend?? WHO better to ask for advice than her step brother kiba? He could surely show her the ropes- show her how she should be getting fucked. How he could be fucking her instead. Maybe he would fuck her so good she would leave that good for nothing boyfriend of hers.

18+ fem!reader // cw: stepcest, virginity loss, infidelity.

he smiles when you linger by his door one afternoon, finally having the balls to ask him for his help.

the room is hot. it's one of those unbearable days in the year when the air itself weighs heavy on your shoulders and the concrete outside looks like it'd melt the soles of your shoes right off if you ever decided to take a single step out the front door. blinding sunlight seeps between the parted curtains, which open up way for an occasional breeze to come swooping in from time to time. it paints the walls a mellow orange.

the little gust of wind - which you'd call mundane, at best - fails to cool down your heated skin, and it doesn't strike you as shocking, really. nearly saturated with sweat; your cutesy top has long since become flushed to your spine, uncomfortably clinging to your skin despite being cropped. it's so hot out that even the little hairs on the nape of your neck have turned damp. a cold rinse doesn't sound like such a bad idea to be quite honest.

however, the heat is not the only reason as to why you're sweating in such great amounts. your core temperature also rises because the expression that now rests on your stepbrother's face seems to be one of pure amusement. he even tilts his head to one side like a puppy would as he turns away from his computer screen to look at you. no wait, scratch that; he doesn't just look at you.

he leers. practically eyes you up from the top of your head to the tips of your toes like a proper bastard as he leans back and swivels in his gaming chair. the dark look in his eyes and the hazy tension to accompany it make your nipples harden. from the way he's staring so openly at your chest, you don't doubt that he's noticed them turning apparent underneath your shirt. there's no bra to shield them.

"you want me to do what?" he asks at some point, looking you in the eyes finally.

the question - no, the tone - he now voices makes you start sweating even more profoundly. there's a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he notices the way your hand twitches with desire to reach up and wipe away the thick film of salt that's now sitting on your forehead. they're rosy and plump - his lips. never chapped, except during an especially cold winter, because he always keeps a water bottle nearby that's bigger than your goddamn head just so he can consistently hydrate during his workouts over the course of this hellish summer.

being a gym rat has its quirks, you suppose. the appealing muscles, broad shoulders and jaw-dropping strength don't sound too bad, now that you think about it.

brushing away the thought, you watch with narrowed eyes as he takes his headphones off and leans over his desk to pick up said water bottle, now. trying not to pay any mind to the warmth that increases somewhere in the pit of your stomach whilst you watch him drink the cool liquid, you know damn well that the way his throat moves every single time he swallows shouldn't make you so intrigued. that when he bites through an ice cube, the sound and sight of it shouldn't make you visibly shiver.

but you just can't help yourself.

you're finally ready, after all; ready to indulge in the dirty thoughts that have been plaguing your mind for a long while, and to lose your virginity in the process, too. ready to impress your boyfriend with some skills he definitely wouldn't expect you to have, but would otherwise enjoy experiencing them nonetheless.

and speaking of your boyfriend: what's important is that he's the reason as to why you're here in the first place, not kiba, your mean stepsibling. that he's the reason why you're willing to learn how to acquire those nasty skills with the help from another man, who just happens to be your stepbrother. in your defense, it's not like you've planned it! your one year anniversary is right around the corner and this is just way more convenient than trying to land a hookup that might end in disaster.

so as you stand there, looking at those big brown eyes that nearly gleam with twisted delight, you swear to yourself that wooing your boyfriend is the only reason why you're offering yourself to your big brother now.

and yet, all you say is, "ugh, never mind."

however, when you turn to run away just like you always do with your problems, there's an immediate, steady pressure wrapping around your wrist. you have no idea how he's managed to reach you so fast, but before you've even fully succeeded in stepping away from the doorway, he's right there, standing beside you.

his grip is cautious, albeit firm when he spins you around so that he can look at your face again. avoiding eye contact by keeping your chin tucked low, you internally scold yourself for always forgetting how swift he can be when he wants to be. there's something eerily cat-like about him, even if he reminds you of a dog when it comes to his godawful personality.

and that dog in him really shines through when he roughly pats your cheek and chuckles. by the time you try to push his hand away, it turns into quiet, most definitely provocative laughter. what a douchebag.

"easy there, squirt," he says mid-laugh, letting go of your wrist just so he can close the door shut behind you. it's just the two of you, you're home alone for who knows how long, but the action still makes you feel slightly wary. especially as he leans down to your eye level to add, "where are ya runnin' off to all of a sudden, hmm?"

glowering up at him at the stupid nickname he simply refuses to stop using for you just because you're a couple of years younger than him, you chide, "forget it... it was just a stupid idea, moron."

"yeah, it was," he mumbles, nodding vehemently just to spur you on. "but, i never said i wouldn't do it."

that surprises you. "wh-... what?"

he smiles again at the obvious shock you exhibit, and only when you spot the dimple appearing in his right cheek, do you notice how close he actually is to you. there's no actual proximity; you can smell his inviting scent, can see the ring of amber in his irises. his tan skin looks like it's glowing in the golden hour, and the fact that he's shirtless, only wearing black gym shorts that hang dangerously low around his waist, does not help you at all when it comes to ripping your gaze away from him.

the small amount of freckles that are dusted all over his sun-kissed shoulders and the bridge of his nose only make him seem even cuter than he already is, despite the fact that his vocabulary is absolutely foul as he says, "well, since you're offering... lemme get your little virgin cunt ready for your stupid boyfriend, then."

time either seems to come to a full stop or starts moving insanely fast after that, because one second you're standing at your big brother's door, glaring up at him in evident disapproval, and the other you're laying on his bed; squirming on top of the mattress he keeps pressing you into with his immense weight.

he sighs as he flicks up the hem of your shirt to the collar so that he can see your tits. you're not entirely sure if it's an appreciative one, but his eyes do light up at the sight and his cheeks are ever so slightly pink as he says, "did he eat you out already?"

you can barely function from being exposed so easily. he really has no sense of privacy, does he? "y-yeah, once."

he brushes his thumb over your nipple as he cups the fat of your breast with one hand. it's hard to keep yourself from arching your back until it's shaped like one of those old-timey bridges. "was it any good?"

"i mean, it was okay." a small pause forms as you think and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. "i didn't know where to put my hands, though, and that made me spiral a bit... i guess i kept overthinking the entire thing."

it's true what you tell him when he dips down to peck your jawline; you really were overthinking it whilst your boyfriend tried to give you head. however, as he kisses his way down your stomach, unceremoniously ridding you of your shorts and panties along the way, it's different.

because five minutes later, you have no time to form a thought, much less overthink it. the way he knows how to overstimulate you with his mouth is indescribable. moans keep bubbling up your throat as he licks you; loud slurping noises - lewd-sounding enough to make a feverish blush sear your face and make you cum all the harder - emit as he fucks your virgin hole with his tongue and fingers.

he's got you splayed wide open for him with the help of his hand on your thigh even if you're not used to being so exposed and vulnerable. it's insane to look down; to see the tip of your brother's nose smushed against your clit in broad daylight, to see his eyelids turning heavy with lust from how pussy drunk he's getting on his little sister's cunt. his chestnut hair is all mussed up from how many times he's made you run your hands through it. it makes him look all the more appealing, because the messy look has always suited him better than neat button ups and fancy shoes.

holding fistfuls of it and tugging at the roots whenever he hits a rather sensitive spot within you, you suppose he's taught you where to put your hands at least. perhaps this entire thing really will help you get ready for your anniversary with your boyfriend, who you're so happily cheating on right now. perhaps.

but truth be told, you're not thinking about your anniversary or your boyfriend at all when your brother finally gets to sink into you for the first time. when he makes you wrap your legs around his waist and pushes in deep - right past that pesky barrier that only he will be able to call his from now on.

and goddammit, breaking that barrier hurts; it hurts like a motherfucker. multiple tears slide down your cheeks when you blink, but he doesn't wipe them away. just watches.

it takes a bit of effort for him to push the entirety of his cock into you. you're nervous and overwhelmed and stuffed full with him, with anyone, for the first time, so it's normal. it feels like he's reaching all the way up to your throat, and with the way your eyes widen and your mouth pops open in response to the fullness, you're reminding him of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

there are even more tears brimming your waterline, now. you whimper when they cling to your eyelashes. "it hurts."

"i know," he grits out, panting. yours is the tightest pussy he's ever had the pleasure of experiencing and the way it clamps down around his fat cock, despite the ache you're enduring at the moment, feels like a dream. it makes him sneer with arrogance as he mutters, "but look at it this way... if you're able to take me, then i'm positive you'll have no trouble taking that dunce of yours."

"you think your dick is bigger than his?" you try to quip, though it doesn't come across as sassy as you want it to when you're in-between whines and your eyes insist on rolling into the back of your head. stupid, stupid, stupid.

"i dunno, you tell me," he replies, his grin complacent. "you're the one who gave handjobs to both... wanna play slutty critic?"

"well- ah, fuck," a small, mewlish moan slips out when he strokes your walls for the first time. you're not sure if it's from the pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both, but the throbbing hardness that touches your sensitivity inside makes your legs shake. the squishy, soft part within you is so tender. "i-it isn't."

he snorts at your sad little jab, the sound so derisive that it makes your heart tighten, not just your cunt.

"yeah? you're sure 'bout that, sis?" he draws his hips back and adds a little more fervour to his thrust this time, watching as your entire body stutters with the action.

he nearly makes you glitch out of this reality with it and the wanton cry you let out in response is so loud that it would surely wake up the entire house. thank goodness you're home alone.

his grin grows absolutely vicious as he looks down at the place where you connect. your cunt is so soft and warm, it sucks him right in. and as if the moan alone wasn't proof enough, he even gets to feel your toes curl and your heels dig into his lower back when he spreads your pussy lips apart with his fingers and spits right onto your clit.

he leans in to whisper into your ear whilst he messily smears his saliva into the sensitive button of nerves, "'cause i can't help but keep wondering; could your little boyfriend make you sound like i just did, mm?"

could he?

[jellieland]

This is somewhat inspired by some of the fics @theminecraftbee has written.

---

Two figures watch, from a nebulous nowhere, as Scar stands, alone, in the remains of his destroyed shop.

"I'm sorry," he says, mournfully, to no one.

"You Know," says the first figure, "I Really Wasn't Convinced When You Pitched This One."

Scar does not react. He cannot hear them.

"Yes," says the second, with an air of long-suffering patience. "I Do Know. You Were Very Vocal About It."

"...I really wanted to try and make some friends, this time." Scar, simultaneously right in front of them and a great distance away, sighs and looks up at the sky. "Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it now!"

"I Have Come Around To It," says the first.

"Good," says the second. "I Knew You Would."

They watch Scar start to sort through the mess.

"They Forget They Have A Choice," says the first. "It Is Fascinating."

They move on.

The move on to ash.

Skizz and Tango and Bigb stand right in the thick of it, quiet.

"You try to do one nice thing," says Skizz.

His hands curl into fists. He glares at the smoldering remains of the heart in front of him.

"You try to do ONE nice thing!" he yells, and punches one of the last remaining bits of wood.

Brittle from the fire, it breaks.

"Yeah, well! I guess this is why we don't," says Tango, resigned.

"It was always gonna happen eventually," says Bigb, voice level.

"They Always Try," says the first. "They Always Keep Trying."

"Yes," says the second. "They Chase Each Other In Circles Until All Of Them Are Dead. They Give Themselves Their Own Tasks."

"That Is Not What I Meant," says the first. "But That Is Also True."

They watch the three members of the Heart Foundation stand, for a while, in silence.

And they move on.

They move over to the mesa.

Martyn is standing inside his house, that used to be Jimmy's house too, facing the three chests on the wall labelled "TIMMY", "MUMBO" and "MARTYN".

He is talking animatedly, and gesturing. "-and I kept trying to get them to follow me there, but nobody was taking the bait. Honestly, you guys would've laughed at me. But it-"

They let the rambling fade into the background.

"A Good Dog," says the first.

"Yes," says the second. "He Does As He Is Told."

"-and I've honestly been feeling a bit left out today, isn't that funny? But- Bdubs said, he said he would join me next week, so-"

They move on.

They move to the cobblestone castle, in the side of the hill.

Grian is cooing over a small magma cube named Etho's Dishwasher.

Cleo and Etho are leaning against the staircase watching him.

"Are you both alright?" asks Cleo.

"Sure, I'm fine," says Etho.

"Me?" says Grian, turning around. "Oh, I'm good, I was being a total coward. I just hung around at the top of that tower by the Secret Keeper for ages and none of them ever thought to look up."

"Really?" asks Cleo, amused. "Some of them I would expect that of, but I'd think Gem would be a bit more on the ball."

"Well, apparently not," says Grian.

He turns back to the magma cube, and they settle into quiet.

"I Would Have Expected More Of The Alliances To Have Fallen Apart, By Now," says the first.

"Loyalty Is At Its Most Interesting When It Is Stretched," says the second. "These Three Know It Will Never Last. They Know That All Of Them Are Aware Of This. That Is Why They Are Still Here. They Know How Much They Can Care Without It Being A Lie. And Then Privately, They Care More Than That Anyway."

Eventually, Etho sighs. He looks tired.

He glances from Cleo, to Grian, and back, and after a moment of hesitation, speaks. "I, uh. I'm glad you two survived." He shifts awkwardly, and continues before they can respond. "I thought they were going to try and make me kill you, at one point, and- Grian, I don't know if you know this, but Cleo is scary when she's getting revenge. I did not want to have to worry about that."

Cleo laughs, slightly, and gives Etho a look of the deepest affection. "Well, I did die, is the thing, so thanks for reminding me of that."

"No, no, you knew what I meant! See, Grian? See what it's like?"

"Uh huh," says Grian, raising an eyebrow. "Well, thanks for not killing us."

Cleo frowns at him, suddenly curious. "Grian?" they ask. "Are you the only one who didn't die today?"

Grian opens his mouth, then stops to consider it.

"Or- no, wait. Martyn." says Cleo. "Well. Well done either way."

They watch the trio for a little longer, and then they move on.

They move to Scott.

He is alone, in a forest somewhere.

He is leant up against a cliff face, staring down at the floor.

"None Of Them Even Died, This Time," says the first. "Not Permanently."

"No," says the second. "It Was Controlled. Directed. There To Even The Playing Field. We Can Just Ask Them To Do That, Now, And They Will."

Scott draws his knees up to his chest, and rests his head on his arms.

He doesn't move, or shout, or cry.

He just stays there, quiet.

Eventually, they move on.

They move to the Secret Keeper.

Gem is standing there.

She is looking at it.

"If She Had Decided To Fail At The Start," says the first, "She Most Likely Would Have Lived. She Lost So Much More, Taking Things From Other People, Than The Nothing She Would Have Lost In Failure."

"Yes," says the second. "That Is My Favourite Part."

They watch her.

"Anyway," says the second, "She Would Not Do That."

"She Wouldn't?" asks the first.

"No," says the second. "She Understands Why It Is My Favourite Part."

Gem smiles.

"Thank you!" she says to the Secret Keeper. "That was a lot of fun!"

"You Are Welcome," says the second.

Blood on her hands, Gem turns and leaves, grin as bright as the sun.

They watch her go.

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt. 7

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6

Eddie is good at puzzles

Cryptograms, jigsaws, Rubiks cubes, mazes. For all the trouble he has in school, he’s always loved word search and crossword assignments. He finishes first; he saunters up to the teacher’s desk; he slaps it down in the assignment box. He grins as they grade it with grudging respect. The strategy required for D&D was just as appealing, initially, as the escapism.

So. Eddie is good at puzzles.

Until, of course, Steve Harrington appeared in the early-morning hallway of Hawkins high, apparently having turned over an inexplicable and very puzzling new leaf.

Steve Harrington is unsolvable.

And it makes Eddie crazy.

He’d written out a list detailing the nuances of the Steve Harrington Puzzle. That was the title on the piece of the paper he’d torn out of his campaign spiral: There was the sudden friendship with Robin Buckley and the additional strange company he’d been keeping with Nancy and Jonathan and Barb. There was quitting the basketball team and absolutely burning bridges to ash with his former friends.

The panic attacks, related to flickering lights and D&D monsters The kids. The walkie-talkie check-ins and mentions of gates.

Chief fucking Hopper’s involvement.

The weird obsession Steve seems to have with Eddie. The flirting.

The baking.

Okay, the baking could be normal, but it’s still potentially out of character enough that Eddie doesn’t scratch it off the list.

Eddie's first hypothesis is drugs, even though that doesn’t explain everything.

As long as he’s not leaving town, there’s only one person Steve could be getting drugs from if he’s not getting them from Eddie. So Eddie walks to the gas station down the road and calls Rick from the pay phone outside.

“Hey. Weird question. Are you selling hard shit to Steve Harrington on the side?”

Rick laughs at him until he hangs up. That’s fair. It was a long shot anyway.

His second hypothesis is…

Well, that’s the problem. He doesn’t have a second hypothesis. Because nothing explains all of the everything going on with Steve and even drugs only explain like…half of it.

Eddie crumples up the paper and tosses it in the trash and the Steve Harrington Puzzle remains unsolved through Saturday night as he loads up his guitar and amp into Gareth’s mom’s car.

One of them really needs to buy a van or a truck or something. Showing up to your metal gig in a minivan is not the cool aesthetic they’re trying to embody.

Eddie has been trying not to have expectations. Just because Steve said, several days before, that he was going to come to their gig didn’t mean he’d actually show up. And unlike Eddie’s embarrassing, seat-saving hope from Friday, his anxious door-watching as they set up and then take the stage at Hideout does not pay off.

Steve doesn’t show.

Maybe he forgot. Maybe he changed his mind or something better came up or maybe he never intended to come at all. 

It doesn’t occur to Eddie that there’s another potential reason until he gets home, hoarse and jumpy with endorphins to find a note from Wayne by the phone. 

Steve called. Said he’d been in an accident and was sorry he couldn’t come. Sounded rough. Left his number for you.

Eddie calls the number, even though it’s late. It rings. And rings. And rings. They have an answering machine, because of course they do, but the woman on the recording sounds like a stuck up bitch and Eddie lingers, just for a moment, trying to think of something to say, before hanging up.

He tries again on Sunday, just past lunch. Still no answer.

By Monday morning he’s vacillating between annoyance and concern which takes a careening turn down the concern offramp when he catches sight of Steve in the hallway. His face is beat to shit and his neck––

His neck looks like someone tried to fucking hang him.

But despite the bruises and the line of stitches at his temple and the general signs of a thorough ass-kicking, Steve is moving through the tide of students around him with the unmistakable swagger of someone who won.

It really does make Eddie want to see the other guy.

Eddie isn’t thinking. Well, he is thinking, he’s thinking what happened and are you ok. He’s not thinking about optics as he pushes his way through the other students in the hallway, grabs Steve’s wrist and drags him into the bathroom. It’s empty, thank god.

“What happened?” Eddie says, tugging down the collar of Steve’s shirt so he can better see the—Jesus, the ligature marks on his throat. “Are you ok?”

Steve’s hands catch around his shoulders, pushing him back with an infuriating little smile that says he’s enjoying Eddie’s reaction. Enjoying Eddie’s concern about him nearly being killed, the sadistic asshole.

“Hey, easy,” Steve says, “I’m fine. Though that does hurt a little so maybe let go of my shirt, yeah?”

“Oh what, you can pull me into bathrooms and feel me up but I’m not allowed to return the favor?” Eddie snarls.

Steve goes delightfully pink. ���Okay,” he says. “I’ve apologized for that.”

Eddie lets go.“And you still haven’t explained it.”

“I can’t.”

“And all of this?” Eddie gestures to encompass the entirety of Steve’s stupid, muscular, injured self. He’s wearing the same jeans and boots as he was on Friday, this time paired with a black T-shirt that is likely intentionally a size too small.  “Can you explain this?”

“I––”

“Can’t.” Eddie finishes with him.

At least Steve looks cowed about it.

“Are these the worst of your injuries or are there more under your clothes?” 

Steve opens his mouth and Eddie interrupts before he can say anything. “Don’t lie.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “My back is a little beat up, but it’ll be fine.”

“Let me see.”

“What, do you have a medical degree, now?”

“Let me see.”

“Fine. Fine,” he turns, bracing one hand on the sink and using the other to hike up the back of his shirt. “I forgot how goddamn annoying you are when you’re––”

He cuts himself off, going still. His eyes are wide where they meet Eddie’s in the mirror. “I mean. Sorry. Whatever. Look, I’m fine.”

Eddie looks.

“Oh my god.” He’s touching the mottled bruise down the left side of Steve’s spine before he realizes he’s going to do it and by then it’s too late. He tries to be gentle, at least. “What hit you, a truck?”

“Eddie.”

“Are you pissing blood?”

“Only a little. Honestly, I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Eddie drops the shirt and lets Steve turn to face him, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he leans closer still to inspect the tidy line of stitches hugging Steve’s temple.

“At least everything looks clean,” he murmurs, pushing Steve’s hair out of the way. “Did you go to the hospital for these? Please say you didn’t do them yourself.”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer, though, because Tommy Hagan pushes his way into the bathroom. Where Eddie currently has Steve pressed against the sink, nearly hip to hip, with his hand on Steve’s face.

He’s going to die today.

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says with a degree of annoyance that Eddie finds commendable considering the circumstances.

“What are you––what’s going on?” Tommy says as the door slides shut behind him. “Did Munson do that to you?”

Steve scoffs and Eddie should probably be insulted. Steve slides around him, putting himself just a hair in front of Eddie as he half-turns to face Tommy. One of Steve’s hands is on Eddie’s chest and Eddie isn’t sure how it got there, but it’s steady and firm, like he’s holding Eddie back.

“No,” Steve says. “He’s just a concerned citizen. What do you want?”

“He was touching you,” Tommy says, low and quiet and weirdly hurt. 

“He was,” Steve agrees easily. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. Friends touch each other all time, right? No reason to make it weird.”

The words land like a blow. Eddie watches as Tommy physically recoils from them.

“Steve.” Tommy sounds wounded.

“Tommy,” Steve answers, dispassionate.

Tommy’s eyes move to Eddie. Move to Steve’s hand on Eddie’s chest. He turns abruptly and shoves his way back out of the bathroom with a muttered curse.

Steve watches him go, and then, when he turns to face Eddie again, his mouth twists.

“Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I sort of implicated you, there. I swear he won’t tell anyone, though, even if he does think we’re––whatever. I can,” Steve exhales, shoving a hand through his hair, and then winces, either because of the stitches or his side. “I can tell him you turned me down.”

As if that would happen.

“No,” Eddie says. “It’s fine. I mean, a lot of people already assume that I’m––” he knows he shouldn’t ask but he can’t seem to help it, “––wait, are you?”

“Yeah?” Steve says, like it should be obvious. “I like both. Either. All.”

“Right.” Eddie says. Like his entire worldview hasn’t been shaken to the core. “And you and Hagan—?”

Steve leans back against the sink. “I’m honestly not in the practice of outing people, if I can help it.”

“Hey, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” Steve says finally. “I know.” He’s got his hands braced on the lip of porcelain on either side of his hips. It makes his biceps look enormous. “We didn’t have a thing,” he murmurs. “Not really. I wanted to, which is embarrassing in retrospect, but––” he laughs and there’s nothing comedic to it. “Some guys are just fine with you giving them handjobs in the dark, but god forbid you ask them to kiss you in the daylight, you know?”

Eddie does know.

“Their loss,” he mutters.

Steve bites his lip. “Hey, so. I’m sorry I missed your show. Can I buy you dinner tonight as an apology?”

Eddie might not recover from the conversational whiplash. “What?”

“I can pick you up at seven?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, cool. We should get to class.”

And then he’s gone. 

Eddie has a quiet, 30 second, existential crisis before following him.

***

Steve takes them to the diner again: same booth; same waitress.

She doesn’t try so hard this time to get Steve’s attention, either because she learned from last time or because Steve’s face looks like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

Regardless, they’re mostly left to their own devices and Steve gets him talking about the Lord of the Rings and once again Eddie finds himself flailing his way through a long-winded rant while drinking a chocolate milkshake. Steve watches him fondly.

He keeps forgetting that Steve is a giant, potentially dangerous, puzzle that needs solving in the face of his fond looks. It’s really becoming a problem.

Eddie is trying to find an elegant way of inviting Steve back to his place when Steve’s ever-present overstuffed backpack makes a static noise and then Eddie hears the muffled sound of Chief Hopper’s voice saying: Steve, you there?

Steve is out of the booth, throwing money on the table, in seconds.

Eddie scrambles to follow him.

Steve unzips his bag and pulls out the walkie before he’s even out the door.

“Hop?” he asks into the receiver. He doesn’t hold the door for Eddie which Eddie will be bitchy about later.

Are you still at the diner? Hopper asks. He sounds out of breath. 

“Yeah.”

I’m two minutes away, meet me in the parking lot.

“It’s happening now?”

It’s happening now. Sorry, kid, I know you probably haven’t recovered from Saturday yet but––

“No, it’s fine.”

Two minutes, Hopper repeats. Be discreet.

Steve starts running.

By the time Eddie catches up to Steve at the back of  the parking lot, he’s got the trunk of his car open and he’s pulling basketball uniform shirts out of a giant duffel bag. Previously hidden under the layer of jerseys are—guns. 

Holy shit, that’s a lot of guns.

And grenades? Probably. Eddie has never seen a grenade in real life but he’s reasonably sure those are grenades. 

“What.” Eddie says. 

Steve zips the bag back up, cursing, and reaches for a baseball bat wrapped in a towel. Except when he pulls it out by the handle, the towel falls away and Eddie realizes the top of the bat has been gored through with at least two dozen nails: Spiked and lethal and covered in a red brown patina. 

It could be rust.

Eddie is pretty sure it isn’t rust.

“Steve,” he says.

And Steve meets his eyes with a disturbing degree of calm.

Neither of them has a chance to say anything else, though, because Hopper's truck is careening into the parking lot and literally screeching to a stop a few feet away from them.

Steve tosses his bag of guns and his murder bat into the truck bed with a degree of familiarity that Eddie does not want to think about.

“What the hell, Steve,” Hopper is saying through the open window, “what part of be discrete did you not––oh.”

Eddie turns and when Hopper’s eyes settle on Eddie’s face, he stops talking.

 “Eddie,” he says.

And that is not a way that Chief Hopper has ever said Eddie’s name before.

“Hop,” Steve says levelly.

“Fuck,” he says, still staring at Eddie like—Eddie doesn’t even know. Like he’s a ghost, maybe.

“Right,” he says. “Munson.” He drags his attention back to Steve. “We need to go. Now. Is he—“

“No.” Steve says. “Absolutely not.”

“Am I what?” Eddie asks.

Steve is shoving something into Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s hand comes up automatically to close around—keys. Steve’s keys. 

“Do you know where my house is?” He asks.

“Yeah? Everyone knows where your house is, dude.”

“Don’t go home. Wayne is working tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but—“

“I need you to trust me. Please. Go to my house and––wait, no. The pool.”

He looks at Hopper.

“Henderson,” Hopper says. “The Henderson’s house. The other kids are already there. No nearby gates.”

“Gates? What the fuck are you two talking about?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Hopper says.

“Where are you going?” Eddie demands. “What is going on?”

“Eddie,” Steve says, urgent and terrible and wild. “Please.”

There’s an undeniable supplication in his tone, in his eyes, that makes Eddie say: “Okay. Alright. Just––tell me what to do.”

Steve pulls out a sharpie and a butterfly knife from his pockets. He pushes the knife into Eddie’s hand that is already holding Steve’s keys. He takes Eddie’s other arm and turns it palm up, uncapping the sharpie with his teeth. He writes hurried instructions across his wrist.

“Ok,” he says. “There. Take my car. Go to Henderson's house. Stay with the kids until I come back, okay?”

“When will you come back?”

“Late. Early. I don’t know. Before school tomorrow.”

“Steve,” Hopper says.

“Just don’t go back to your house, ok? Don’t go anywhere near Forest Hills or Lover’s Lake. We’ll get a message to Wayne too, but. Don’t go back. Go to Henderson's. Wait for me.”

“Steve,” Hopper says.

He squeezes Eddie’s arm. He lets go like it hurts him.

Steve climbs into Hopper's truck and Eddie watches them pull out of the parking lot with a dread he can’t explain sitting like stagnant water in his chest.

Eddie’s pulse is loud in his ears and heavy in his stomach as he considers the black ink on his arm; the knife; the keys. There’s a thunderhead building, eerie and green, eclipsing the sunset in the distance.

He walks to Steve’s car, closes the trunk, and opens the driver’s side door. He sits. He cranks the engine. 

Dio is playing.

He looks at the instructions on his arm, directing him left onto Main Street, and for a minute he considers obeying. He doesn’t. He puts the car in gear and turns right toward Forest Hills. 

He’ll go to Henderson’s. But Steve is acting like the trailer park is going to get bombed in the night and there are things at the house that…there are things he needs. He still half thinks this is all some giant prank, but Steve’s injuries are real and the guns were sure as hell real and Hopper is real.  If something terrible is going to happen tonight, Eddie has to save his guitar, his mom’s records, the t-shirt from the first concert Wayne ever took him to. He’ll need to get Wayne’s favorite mug and the rosary Wayne’s mother left him and their social security cards and other important documents from the drawer in the kitchen. 

It’ll take five minutes. Guitar. Milk crate of records. One bag of assorted shit. And then he’ll go to Henderson’s.

Five minutes.

In and out.

It’ll be fine.

[emptybattlefield]

"just a little more" (day 12)

Dipper perseveres through some outdoor work with Grunkle Ford, and pushes himself too far. This is a combo with Heatstroke.

“What the hell does Ford have him doing out there?” asks Stan lackadaisically, sipping on a strawberry lemonade that he and Mabel just cooked up. It is the hottest week of the summer, and the two are cooped up under the shade of the veranda. 

Mabel sits on her knees in the chair beside him, tipping another packet of Stan’s sweet-n-low into her glass. “Disinfecting some kind of gadget parts. Apparently gnome saliva is very dangerous,” she answers. 

Stan grunts, and keeps an eye on Dipper, who’s wearing a hazmat suit, standing over one of Stan’s folding tables, which is laden with gadget parts of various shapes and sizes. Ford was nowhere to be seen. Stan takes a swig of his pink drink. Dipper rounds to the other side of the folding table—trips over one of the folds in his too-large hazmat suit. Stan is tight in his chair as the boy successfully catches his balance. 

But then, a second later, he faints. 

Stan is up from his chair in an instant. “Dipper!” Mabel cries while her uncle bolts across the lawn. 

Stan unzips the suit—trying his best to avoid iridescent rainbow goo—and slips Dipper out of it like a shell. The kid’s hair is plastered with sweat from nape to crown. Stan picks him up and carries him inside the kitchen.

He yells for Ford to come up. Where the hell was he? Stan places Dipper on the cool countertop. Heavy footsteps pound up the laboratory stairwell. Meanwhile, Dipper is listless, pale, and not very responsive.

The look on Ford’s face as he reaches the landing… “Dipper!” he hollers, rushing over. “Dipper, it’s your Uncle Ford. Is he alright?” 

Their nephew shifts—but does not rouse. 

Ford is already unsheathing his pocket vitals machine. “Dis you see any gnome saliva on him when you found him?” he asks. 

Stan wanted to slap him. “He’s done collapsed from heatstroke, you idiot. Dipper, it’s Stan. We’re gonna get you cooled off, kiddo.”

“Blood pressure is low. His temp is 103.4 degrees,” Ford says worriedly.

Stan glares at him. He found himself combing his thick fingers through the kid’s sweat-slicked hair. “You are not* a medical doctor.”

“I never said I was, Stan,” Ford states categorically. “I have 14 Ph.Ds, and a bachelor’s of science in nursing. You said Mabel’s running a bath, right?”

Suddenly, Dipper’s whole body stiffens and shudders on the countertop peninsula. His eyes fly open. “What did I just do?” he asks fretfully. 

“You fainted. You’re gonna be alright,” Stan answers gently. He carries him through the house to the bathtub, and lowers him in. His body twitches from the sharp cold. Mabel stands in the doorway—her worried, pink fingers at her mouth. The empty ice cube trays were discarded upon the toilet seat.

Ford quickly follows behind. Stan saddles the side of the bathtub, sitting him up—one of his dark socks underwater. Poor Dipper dry heaves, but nothing comes—false alarm. 

“Am I…contaminated?” Dipper directs his fearful look to Grunkle Ford. 

Ford replies, “No, son. Just a touch of heat exhaustion, by the looks of it. Best for you to stay in the bath a while, I’m afraid.”

Ford offers him some cool water, and Dipper sips it slowly. Ford can’t tell, but Stan can see that Dipper looks disappointed in himself. 

“Temp’s better,” says Grunkle Ford. “Pressure’s bounced back, too.”

Together, they laid Dipper back, so that all but the rounds of his shoulders and face were underneath the water. His shorts poof out to both sides. Mabel keeps him company. Ford disappears outside to retrieve the tableful of machinery pieces—apparently, they can’t be left in the sun for too long without damage.

The visceral zing! of the gnome saliva creeps into Stan’s spine. His head starts to feel a little light and airy under its influence. He ultimately ignores it. After some time, Stan grabs a bath towel from the top shelf of the closet. He shoos Mabel so that her brother can change and get into bed. 

Stan wasn’t the tucking in type, but he asks Dipper, “Kid, what were you thinking? Did you feel yourself overheating, or…?”

“I don’t know…I guess I did, but I was so focused on decontaminating,” he responds, ashamedly. 

“Just—all I ask is that next time, you listen to your body. Think you can do that for me?” says Stan.

“I will—next time,” Dipper replies sadly. 

Grunkle Stan laughs— “Y’know, way-back-when, you had to throw something at your Grunkle Ford to get him to even look up at you, if he was in the middle of a really good book.”

Dipper beams. 

“All’s I’m saying is—you didn’t get it from me,” Stan tells him.

“Where is Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asks.

“Getting the gadgets. Something about the sun ‘degrading the finish.’ But, he agreed with me. It’s best you take it easy the rest of the day,” says Stan grimly. “You’ll be up and at it tomorrow.”

Stan leaves Dipper to himself, and descends to the basement lab. Ford looks up as soon as he hears Stan’s footsteps. “How is he?” Ford asks worriedly. 

Stan can’t help it—he sees red, and immediately shoves Ford into the concrete laboratory wall and pins him there. He has his brothers collar between his knuckles.

“You are on thin ice with me, Poindexter, you get that?!” Stan hisses, inches from his face. “How old were you when you had your first job mowing lawns? You know that he idolizes you. He wants to please you—that’s why I can’t let him turn himself inside out doing your* legwork.”

“I’m sorry, Stan, I’m terribly sorry,” Ford says helplessly.

Stan lets him go. The old man shakes his head. “Honestly, I think it’s good you let him work with you, but when are you gonna get it through your thick, plated skull—he is not your peer, Stanford,” he says all too frustratedly. 

Ford coughs. “I know that, Stanley—”

“You better,” Stan warns. “Because need I remind you—everybody else in the world thinks you died in ‘92. If anything happens to those two kids, it’s me who has to answer to their parents. You get that?”

“Understood,” answers Ford regretfully.

Stan grumbles something inaudible—and says nothing more to him before trumping back up the staircase.

McGuckett was the one who produced Ford’s industrial six-fingered gloves. Now that he had his memories back, the first thing Ford asked him for (aside from his forgiveness) was to make Dipper a pair as well. Ford had them on his desk because he was going to surprise Dipper with them once they returned. With how small they were—they looked silly now. 

When Ford emerges from the basement lab, he tenuously asks where Dipper is.

“Sleeping,” Stan retorts. He and Mabel are at the table playing cards. “Best you let him.”

“Grunkle Ford, do you want us to deal you in?” Mabel asks kindly. Stan’s stony face is in his lap.

“Sure. I can play one round,” he says. 

After several, Ford enters the twins’ bedroom, hoping to apologize to Dipper, but he’s out like a light—little threads of drool hang from his lower lip. Ford places the note on Dipper’s bedside, and the gloves on top to weigh it down. Outside, Mabel is calling a bit too loud because it’s his turn. Ford closes the door quietly.

*end*

[pedge-stuff]

PLEASE WRITE A PART 2 for accident! I’m obsessed

I hadn't planned on it, but... this has been arranged.

accident p. 2 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always.

summary: you let him fuss.

It's well past midnight as you key into the apartment. Pedro busies himself by getting you settled, although his movements are almost as sluggish and haggard as your own. Six hours in the ER had taken its toll.

"Why don't you head up?"

You'd sat on the chair by the door, intent on untying your shoes, but had apparently been staring at them for the last few moments. Without a second thought, Pedro kneeled before you. "I'm gonna take the dogs around the block, and then I'll close up down here."

You are struck, not for the first time this evening, by an overwhelming wave of gratitude. How did you get so lucky?

He jingles the leashes, pausing to kiss your forehead before heading out.

It takes you way too long to get up. Some combination of exhaustion and low-dose Vicodin have you zoning out, effectively sleepwalking without Pedro to move you along. There is a pharmacy baggy on the counter, but by the sluggishness of your thoughts, the remainder of the prescription might need to go untouched.

Eventually, you drag yourself upstairs.

Everything feels dirty. The loaned scrub pants come off easily, shed in the doorway of the ensuite, to be dealt with later. (Thrown away, burned, ripped to shreds... Dealer's choice. Anything to be rid of them and put the whole evening behind you.)

You want to take the hottest shower possible, and scrub off the invisible hospital residue until your skin is raw. But the prospect of standing for long enough to get clean is... logistically impossible.

At least your dominant hand is uninjured. You reach around, fumbling with the buckle on the back of the sling. For a broken bone, it wasn't very high tech— just a few pieces of fabric holding the two halves of your left clavicle in place. But the damn thing may as well have been a rubik's cube, for how impossible it was to unstrap.

That's about where Pedro finds you: back down to your underwear, hunched on the closed lid of the toilet, frustrated to tears.

"This is so stupid."

"Baby," he starts softly. His dinner attire has been pared down to slacks and an undershirt. "Please let me do this for you."

A brown paper bag is set on the counter, so he can gently remove the sling, followed by the scrub top. Eyes closed, you wilt on the lid. Pedro reaches to plug the tub, without asking, though you nod slowly as he looks back.

The man busies himself as you watch on: changes into a well-loved pair of flannel pajama bottoms, tosses some lavender epsom salt into the slowly-filling water, swears a blue streak doing something suspiciously loud in the other room.

When he returns, slightly red in the face, the bath has been filled.

A not-insignificant part of you had hoped he'd be joining, but Pedro chooses instead to perch on the side, running a hand through your hair as you settle against the porcelain. From within the paper bag, a bag of mini Reeses cups are presented.

"Bodega dinner," he says proudly, adding, "you gotta eat something, baby."

"I'm okay," you whisper, though you're not talking about the peanut butter, at all.

"But you almost weren't," he says hoarsely. "I keep replaying that phone call over and over again in my mind. I think my heart stopped for a second. I just..."

You can only nod, mutely. The feverish, borderline frantic look in his eyes traps any response in your throat. (Honestly, he'd been looking at you like that all night. Hasn't really taken his eyes off you since he found you in the hospital hallway.)

So, you let him fuss.

Out of the tub, you lightly dread bedtime, though you've been fantasizing about sleep now for hours. The doctor had specifically warned against sleeping on either your side or back, instead sending you home with a diagram of how to sleep sitting up. Which sounds worse than a car accident, frankly.

But, upon entering, you discover the bedroom has... transformed? Your bed, normally centered, has been pushed into the corner. One nightstand has been abandoned in the middle of the room.

"I'll move that later," Pedro says sheepishly.

All the pillows on the bed, and from the chaise in the opposite corner of the room, have been gathered in a clumsy pile. The dogs have already assumed their positions against the footer.

Pedro shucks off his undershirt, and crawls into the makeshift nest. With pillows to support his often-fragile back, he reclines against the wall corner. Pats the mattress.

"You can't lay down," he warns, as you shift onto the bed. "The doctor was really particular about that."

"Sitting up," you echo. Although, at this point, you'd crash standing up if it meant you could finally fucking sleep.

Pedro splays his legs. "Come here."

Carefully, one-handed, you maneuver yourself according to his gesturing. Settling, back-to-chest, against him; legs between his legs. Propped up like a rag doll. As if on autopilot, Pedro's arm comes up to wrap across your stomach.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," you protest.

His lips brush your temple. "I promise." His grip tightens; you are a human teddy bear, which feels appropriate, since your brain is full of stuffing.

Each rise and fall of Pedro's chest presses warmly against you. There is nothing to wake up for tomorrow, no alarm to set— you'd cancelled your Sunday Brunch plans sometime between the IV and the x-ray.

"Hey." You loll your head against his shoulder. Can't meet his eyes, from this angle, but in the darkness of the bedroom, it doesn't really matter.

"Hey."

Your fingers lace with his, where they clutch around your side. "I love you."

"Mm." His chin hooks over the top of your head. "You have no idea, sweetheart."

[melishade]

Attack on Prime New Age Anthology: Return to that Sick Mind III

Main Story

Strange Technology

Return to that Sick Mind I

Return to that Sick Mind II

Jazz walked into the medical bay of the Nemesis, carrying a few cubes of high grade energon per Ultra Magnus' request. The lieutenant now council member found it odd, considering it was still work hours, but he was sure that it was for a good reason.

Until he fully heard the sounds of Knockout cackling like a madcon. Jazz peered over the stacked energon cubes in his possession and blinked in confusion at the sight. Megatron and Bumblebee were on medical berths, hooked up to a cortical psychic patch. Knockout was leaning against the wall, holding his side and laughing so hard it looked like lubricant was coming out. Smokescreen and Bulkhead were helping Ratchet sit up, but the medic still looked out of it. And Ultra Magnus...looked like he hadn't moved from his locked position of staring at a screen with Bumblebee and Megatron talking.

"Uh...I brought high grade," Jazz informed, alerting all the Autobots in the room. Ultra Magnus quickly stomped over and snatched the one directly from the top before chugging it with ease.

"Whoa! Magnus, what the frag?" Jazz called out.

"Jazz, you are missing out!" Knockout declared as he picked the second high grade energon with his claws, "So apparently, there are some humans that are claiming that Megatron changed his ways, so Bumblebee wanted to dive back into his mind-!"

"Wait, didn't Bee say Megatron hijacked his body the first time he did it?!" Jazz exclaimed in disbelief.

"Oh that's only the tip of the iceberg, because during that fight with all the red titans, Megatron saved Bumblebee!" Knockout declared.

Jazz nearly dropped the remaining energon cubes in his servo. "What?"

"I know!" Knockout exclaimed, "But long story short, we've been seeing Megatron be nice to humans, get blackmailed by a human, dancing with a human-!"

Jazz dropped the energon cubes onto the ground. Thankfully none of them spilled. "S-should....should I get the council for this?"

"If you want to break their processors, then go for it." Knockout grinned, "I would love to see the looks on some of their faces."

Jazz looked back towards the screen where Bumblebee and Megatron were still talking. But it looked as though Bumblebee was just as annoyed as Megatron.

Bumblebee rubbed his optics with the palms of his servos. "By the Allspark, what happened to you?!"

"Hey, I did not ask for you to come into my helm, and I warned you!" Megatron shouted.

"Well I don't know how to feel about the 'Con that ripped out my voicebox was dancing with humans!" Bumblebee shot back.

Megatron groaned and rubbed his optics with his digits. "At the very least, does that get you to believe the humans' claims?"

"...I hate that I have to say yes," Bumblebee relented.

Megatron rolled his optics in response. Bumblebee's gaze then fell to Megatron's chest, and he remembered Arcee's condition and how she had dark energon in her armor and joints.

"What did you do to Arcee?" Bumblebee demanded.

Megatron crossed his arms. "Nothing. I spent most of my time avoiding her when she appeared on the island. We had one major confrontation with each other."

Bumblebee saw a memory appear, and it was Megatron and Arcee arguing in their holoforms. Arcee was listing off his war crimes, and the human in the middle, Hanji, took steps back from Megatron in fear.

“No you haven’t! Let’s get one thing straight: You! Deserve! Nothing!” Arcee declared, “You deserve to be rusting at the bottom of Earth’s ocean instead of walking around as if nothing’s wrong! As if you could somehow put everything behind you and pretend to be nice for your own selfish gain! I will never put my trust in you! I would rather die than put my life in your hands! Do you hear me?!”

Megatron raised his hand to strike Arcee while Arcee got into a fighting stance. Hanji quickly got into the way of Arcee and Megatron. Megatron seemed startled and momentarily paused, but out of nowhere, a teen Bumblebee had never seen in the photos or the battle punched Megatron in the face before grabbing his collar and pinning him to the floor. He yelled as Megatron turned his attention to him and grabbed him by the neck. The teen tried to pry the hand off of him, but Megatron only restricted his airway further.

“Stop! Stop!” Hanji yelled as they tried to help the teen pry the hand off.

“Megatron!” Optimus shouted as he arrived with Levi. Megatron finally snapped out of his haze and recognized what he was doing. He turned his head to see Optimus and Levi staring with worry. He glanced up to see Eren trying to breathe while Hanji looked terrified out of their mind. But Megatron careened his head when he noticed a crowd had formed. Megatron felt something in his stomach drop as he realized it was the Survey Corps, and they all looked at him…with fear. Moments later, Megatron released the teen and deactivated the holoform.

"...It wasn't my proudest moment," Megatron confessed, "I only spoke with her after that to tell her I would return to Cybertron for trial and execution."

“…I will go with you,” Megatron told her.

Arcee raised an eyebrow in confusion while Optimus and Wheeljack were taken aback.

“When Cybertron is contacted, I will go with you to Cybertron and face my punishment for the war,” Megatron elaborated, “Do whatever you want to me then, but for now, I will be doing my job here.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that from you?” Arcee wasn’t buying it, placing her servos on her hips, “How could I possibly know that what you’re telling me is true?”

“You don’t,” Megatron answered calmly, “All you have is my word, and that is the only thing that I can give you.”

Arcee only stared before sneering. “When you break your word, I’m going to enjoy dragging you to Cybertron in cuffs.”

Bumblebee looked up at Megatron. "So how did Arcee get dark energon on her? You're the only source of it as far as we know."

Megatron sighed in response. "I wasn't aware of the consequences at the time."

"Oh, really?" Bumblebee sneered.

"When I first arrived on this planet, I was unaware of the setup of the world, and how the power of the titans operated," Megatron began, "So when I first saw the Colossal and Armored Titan, I fired my weapons at them."

Bumblebee watched a memory of Megatron firing at a massive Colossal Titan situated atop of a large wall, the shots hitting the right hand of the beast.

"Apparently energon had the ability to affect the actual body of the human inside of the titan, and stop regeneration altogether," Megatron explained, "But dark energon still decayed the body of the user, slowly eating at them from the inside out. During my mission in Marley, I had learned that the dark energon was causing the current titan shifter, Bertholdt Hoover, to lose his mind and body, and the Marleyans transferred the powers of the Colossal Titan over to Porco Galliard."

Bumblebee saw another memory of two boys. One clearly affected by dark energon, chained onto a high platform, and another, injected a serum clearly laced with energon. The boy transformed into a pure titan, and Bumblebee felt sick to his stomach as the boy afflicted with dark energon screamed and cried out for help before being devoured.

"But the transfer of power wasn't enough, and Porco had shown signs of being infected with dark energon."

Bumblebee saw Megatron's human form grab by the throat and pull him back by the hand, seeing the dark energon lingering in his veins.

"I ordered our temporary ally to eliminate Porco, knowing it would be a difficult task. He orchestrated for an infiltration of the Marleyan compound, and Porco was killed in the ensuing chaos." Bumblebee saw Megatron's holoform dripping with blood, and the human form watched in surprise as Porco was shot through the chest, "But now we know that dark energon has the ability to reanimate organics."

Bumblebee covered his optics as a massive purple explosion went off in a walled city. Bumblebee gasped in horror at the destruction caused, but looked up in terror at the sight of a massive Colossal Titan with purple smoke and fire pouring from its head and body. The smoke created storm clouds that began to spread in the sky.

"I was unable to properly fight due to the dark energon, and Arcee was the one taking the initiative," Megatron continued explaining, "She was getting the brute force of the attack, trying her best to cut Porco out from the nape of the neck."

Bumblebee saw Megatron struggling to stand up on his pedes, the dark energon clearly affecting his body and mobility. He chucked his sword upward to Arcee, who was shroud by the smoke. Arcee used the sword to cut the nape wide open, and his body collapsed to the ground with a loud bang. Bumblebee watched the Colossal Titan body decay, and Megatron lying down on his back, a servo on his chest and one covering his optics. Bumblebee couldn't help but grow tense when a titan, heavily damaged by the Colossal Titan threat, trudged its way over to him, dragging the very sword just used to eliminate the Colossal Titan.

The titan raised the sword over its head to ram it into Megatron's own, but paused when Megatron raised his servo to look him eye.

“Reiner…thank you,” Megatron said.

"W-what?" Bumblebee stuttered

“The lives you’ve saved, the worlds you’ve protected, it was all because of you,” Megatron declared, “You acted in my stead, and saved the lives of billions of beings.”

Bumblebee saw that Megatron looked like he was breathing a sigh of relief. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”

"...Gratitude...for a human." Bumblebee looked up at Megatron.

"...I put Reiner through hell," Megatron explained as Reiner fell to his knees, "And then I lied to him for four years for the sake of the mission. I don't regret doing what I had to do for that mission...but I couldn't help but feel a kinship with him. Twisted, I know. But we had both pursued a dream that turned into something twisted, and were left with nothing but shame and regret. I had grown from making his life a nightmare to actively trying to stop him from taking his own life."

Megatron gave himself a running start before slamming his body into the door, busting into the room as Reiner was ready to pull the trigger of the rifle situated in his mouth. The ex-con tackled him to the ground and threw the rifle across the room. Reiner struggled to try and get the gun, but Megatron locked his arms around his abdomen and dragged him back. Megatron’s back hit the wall as Reiner tried to pull his arms off of him.

"But I still couldn't save him in the end," Megatron lamented, "He died because I let my guard down."

Megatron’s optics snapped open and he forced himself on his hands when he realized that Eren had his hand right through the other’s head. Megatron was still trying to process what was happening when Eren dragged Reiner’s titan body towards him and lifted it up towards his teeth. It was only when Eren’s teeth sunk into the nape of the neck that Megatron realized what was happening.

“Reiner!” Megatron grabbed his sword and slashed upward, managing to cut one of the hinges of Eren’s jaw. Megatron would have stabbed Eren right then and there, but Eren used both hands to throw Reiner’s titan body at him. Megatron was knocked to the ground a good few feet away, but the Cybertronian quickly scrambled to check the titan body for Reiner, but the nape was empty. Megatron looked over at Eren and watched in horror at the sight of Reiner in Eren’s grip.

“Arcee, don’t let him eat Reiner!” Megatron yelled as he grabbed his sword and bolted towards Eren.

“Help me! PLEASE! HELP ME!” Reiner begged, but the titan shifter choked on his own blood as Eren crushed him without a second thought. Eren’s jaw fully healed as he was prepared to devour the corpse, but got distracted when Arcee fired at the arm holding Reiner’s corpse. Eren saw the wound wasn’t healing and that Megatron was closing in and made a split second decision. He released Reiner’s corpse from his hand and let it drop in his mouth before he clamped it shut, and in one fell swoop, Eren had swallowed the body whole.

Bumblebee wasn't even sure what to say to that. How was he to supposed to address those memories? It-!

"I assume you have more to ask." Megatron already decided to move on with the conversation.

Bumblebee sighed in response, remembering the texts that Jack had sent, specifically about Armin, and about how he was the most vocal and adamant about Megatron's change. "Armin Arlert...seems to be...the most vocal about you changing."

Megatron was quiet, eerily quiet. Bumblebee didn't know what to do or say since Megatron's back was facing him. He didn't know what his expression was.

"...I haven't been good to him," Megatron confessed.

"...elaborate," Bumblebee ordered.

Megatron clenched his fists in response before he released them. "I was selfish to him. I...saw him as a mirror to Orion Pax. He was able to figure me out so quickly."

"Megatron, stop!" Armin yelled as he ran to him, but grunted as Mikasa pulled him back, "Don't kill her!"

Megatron growled as he pulled out his sword fully and turned to the boy. "She will kill you if you let her live and once she regains full strength. I don't understand why you kept telling me to spare her!"

"If this were any given scenario, it probably would be better to kill her, especially since she has energon in her systems," Armin admitted, "But she's more valuable to you alive than dead!"

Mikasa stared at Armin in confusion while Megatron gave an amused look.

"Valuable to me?" Megatron smirked as he turned away from the two and stared at the girl, "Tell me, Pax, how could this girl be valuable to me?"

"Because if you return to Optimus empty-handed, you won't be able to gain his trust and make things right with him!" Armin answered.

"And I just seemed to dump all of my problems on him," Megatron confessed, "My grief, my anger, my...trauma." Megatron sighed, "I didn't make his life easy."

Bumblebee saw a multitude of memories with just Megatron and Armin. Bumblebee did see violence, aggression, threats against this kid. He saw Megatron yell, impose, intimidate Armin, but...not once did Armin back down. He continued pursuing, asking questions, challenging Megatron. Bumblebee saw a memory of Armin staring at Megatron eagerly while holding a book about the ocean in his hands.

"It seemed...Armin was trying to create a bridge between the two of you," Bumblebee remarked.

"It's not an excuse for the way I treated him," Megatron declared, "I...threatened to shoot him because I was afraid he would expose my secrets! I scared him into silence!" Megatron snapped his helm to Bumblebee, and the Warrior could see the guilt written all over the ex-con's face. "Bumblebee, it was a miracle that he didn't just snap and leave!"

Megatron felt anger rise in his as he snatched the book from under Armin and threw it to the ground. "This foolishness of yours needs to-"

Armin didn't let the ex-con finish as he threw a book at his face. Megatron was clearly surprised by Armin's action, but that didn't stop the boy from throwing another book at him.

"I hate you!" Armin shouted as Megatron shielded his face, "I hate you! I hate you! You bastard! You monster! Eren wants to die because of you! And all you care about are your selfish needs! Not how it affects everyone around you! I wish you'd just disappear!"

Armin threw the last of the books on the desk before slamming his hands on the table. "Just get out!"

Armin began panting from his outburst before realizing he lost his notebook. He wasn't sure if he threw it or not so he began to look all over the desk.

Megatron lowered his arms and saw Armin panicked state as he looked all over the floor for the notebook.

"I made him afraid of his own shadow no doubt!"

“What are you doing here?” Armin demanded rather harshly, but that got Megatron’s attention. The former warlord turned his head slightly to glance back at Armin, and the soldier could see…a rather defeated look in his eyes.

“Where is Mikasa?” Megatron asked him.

“Why do you want to know?” Armin asked vaguely, neither confirming nor denying Mikasa’s location.

Megatron forced himself to stand up on the steps and fully face Armin. “I need to speak with the both of you.”

Armin grew fearful at that and took a step back. “About what?”

Megatron noticed this reaction, but didn’t take a step forward. “I have no intention of harming you.”

“But why do you want to talk to us?” Armin demanded, “You already got what you wanted out of us with Annie. Why do you want to speak to us now?”

“This is a more personal matter,” Megatron admitted, “I just want to speak with the both of you.”

Armin shook his head at that. “No. I don’t want you here. Leave.”

“Armin, please.” Armin gasped as Megatron took a step forward, but that was more than enough for Mikasa to bolt past Armin and punch Megatron directly in the face. Megatron managed to get a glimpse of the blue in Mikasa’s eyes before he got knocked off the steps and to the ground outside. Mikasa then pinned him to the ground and tried to stab him, but Megatron quickly shoved Mikasa’s face and the hand holding the knife away from the holomatter. Mikasa’s other arm was still free, and she punched Megatron square in the jaw.

"I made everyone fear me because I was a coward!"

“After years of watching, observing, listening to second hand accounts, and analyzing your own behavior, I finally know and understand exactly what you are,” Hanji began as their leaned over and crossed their arms, “You, Megatron, are a coward.”

“…what?” Megatron demanded in anger, “Who do you think you are to say that to me?”

“Someone who’s been picking at your mind for three years,” Hanji answered in confidence, “You resort to violence. Always. Considering your own environment and the life you’ve led, that’s all you’ve ever known. I can’t entirely fault you for that. But even after you say that you understand the meaning of oppression, according to Optimus’ account, you still resort to violence. You still resort to abusive and manipulative behavior. To people who haven’t done you any wrong. And the people who do want to extend their hand to you and possibly even help you, you resort to anger. You resort to violence because you’re not used to kindness or sincerity. You resort to violence because it’s easy. You are afraid of what someone might do if they found your weaknesses and your vulnerabilities. You are a coward to something as inevitable as change. You can’t even try to get out of your own head and get out of your own way, and I’d feel sorry for you if you didn’t actively strike fear into the hearts of my subordinates that they come into my office begging for protection from you.”

Megatron got up from his chair and grabbed Hanji by their collar, but the Commander was unfazed.

“Even when confronted with the truth about how horrible you are, you resort to violence, because you are afraid of the truth, and you are afraid of what that says about you!” Hanji continued, “The men and women I have fought beside for so many years have always been scared shitless of titans! They were always afraid of being eaten alive and dying a gruesome death! But even in the face of danger, they did not run! They fought and lived to survive another day, or died so that the rest of us could survive! Despite how afraid they were, they still chose to fight! I would choose a thousand Survey Corps members over any version of you! Because despite your power, you can’t confront your truth! That you never changed and that you’re still a monster who deserves nothing! And killing me won’t change that at all!”

"And I didn't get the chance to properly apologize to any of them!" Megatron declared.

Bumblebee's mouth dropped at that statement. "You-!...you what?"

"Sooooo....," Knockout trailed off as he turned to the Autobots, and the rest of the council members in the room, "We're well past ten minutes, right?"

"Shut up and give me more high grade energon!" Cyclonus ordered.

(Yep, this is gonna be a four parter, or more. Hopefully just four parts.)

[mychlapci]

Prowl getting strict orders from Ratchet that he is not allowed to get knocked up by the twins with that tiny waist of his because his frame couldnt take it. The likelihood of carrying twins is too high. His tiny little waist can and will crumble to dust

The twins want to stuff him full so bad but. They do care for Prowl. They dont want to hurt him (irreversibly at least). No matter how Prowl begs or tries to bully them into knocking him up, they somehow manage to resist.

Theyre the ones who go to Ratchet to ask how they can help. They're the ones who find out that apparently the issue here is that Prowl's refueling habits are abysmal. So they have to fix that if they all want this to move along

They take turns popping into Prowl's office every few hours, always with a cube of energon. At first, Prowl is understandably suspicious. Nothing about how Sideswipe saunters in and presents him with a drink looks Safe. Every part of this screams Prank to him. But Sideswipe's big sad optics eventually work and Prowl sighs and downs the cube. Secretly he thinks seeing Sideswipe's giant grin after he drank it was worth it (but also suspicious).

Sunstreaker is even more suspicious if you ask him. He just walks in, puts a cube down, and glares. Prowl tries to ask what this is about. Sunny gives him a curt nod like 'look. its obvious.' Prowl raises an optic ridge and Sunstreaker's glare just gets darker. He does not so much as move until Prowl drinks it. But once the cube is empty, Sunstreaker looks placated enough and walks out with the empty cube, leaving Prowl to wonder what the heck that is about.

After a few cycles, Prowl gets used to it. He doesn't even look up when he hears his office doors swish open at specific times of the day, already knowing who it is, and just raises a servo to take the cube with a quiet thanks.

They make use of the fact that Prowl loves putting things in his mouth. They know from experience that, when riled up, anything put near Prowl's mouth is going in. He loves having all his holes filled. If he's having his valve stuffed, he whines until he gets something to suck on too. It doesn't matter if it's one of the twins' digits or spike or anything else he can get his wet mouth around.

Maybe the twins take up baking. They'll never tell. But they do start bringing Prowl's favourite snacks to their little meetings. They think it's stupidly hot how he doesn't even question it when he's being railed and an energon treat is held in front of his face. Prowl just licks the treat into his mouth and groans around it, before moving to lick the sticky servo clean

They find that they love doing this actually. Caring for and feeding Prowl is addictive to them

yesssss, the twins fattening up Prowl so he can get knocked up <33

Prowl doesn't think much of it, having Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stuffing energon and candy and pastries into his mouth is just a bonus he gets during interfacing, a little relief he gets while he's at work... mhmm all that energon fills out his thighs and tummy over time, and the twins love that. Prowl's waist thickens, and Sunny and Sides are not-so-subtly giving Ratchet a Look, waiting for him to nod. He doesn't, at first. A little bit of chub is not enough. It's not until Prowl has a jiggly ass and a fat belly that he can actually get knocked up, and oh boy, they sure do knock him up.

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey is: Chapter Four: Didn't Matter

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

Benrey wasn’t tired but Gordon clearly expected him to go to bed. Normally he wouldn’t have but there wasn’t much else he could do. He wasn’t allowed to play on the Game Cube anymore because Gordon needed to sleep and apparently couldn’t with it on. And so, with a sigh, Benrey lay down on his side of the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

It was the perfect time to think. One of Benrey’s least favorite activities but maybe he could figure out a way to fix Gordon’s hand. The security officer uniform had been thrown out along with everyone else’s old clothes – excluding the HEV suit, that Gordon cleaned and put in a cardboard box – so getting that role back wasn’t likely to be an option anymore. But even outside of his having given it up at Gordon’s order because of the hand thing, he would still feel better if he could fix said hand thing.

And so he lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, mentally going over everything he knew about human anatomy. Which beyond the physical layout of their bones that he copied for his own form and when creating his skeleton dudes, wasn’t much. There had to be something he could do though, right?

The answer came to him upon accidentally dozing off when his brain kindly replayed part of the first conversation he’d had with Gordon about his hand never growing back. In the dream they’d had the talk while in Xen and had been playing poker for some reason but it was close enough. Human limbs didn’t grow back but they could be reattached once lost.

Shaking himself the rest of the way awake, Benrey sat up and turned to look at Gordon. He’d rolled over to be facing Benrey. His face wasn’t calm as it should’ve been but instead scrunched up, his whole body tense and twitchy. Not a peaceful sleep then. Lucky him, Benrey was here to wake him from it.

He reached out to shake Gordon’s shoulder. “Wake up, buddy. ”

Gordon jolted awake with a loud gasp. He scrambled backwards, lifting his gun hand. Before it was all the way up though, he fell off the bed, landing on the floor with a thump and dragging the blankets with him. Benrey crawled over to look down at him. The fall hadn’t seem to bring him out of his post nightmare panic as he was still breathing heavy and his eyes roving around wildly.

Benrey took a deep breath and let out a stream of blue sweet voice. As always, Gordon calmed down immediately. Not many people responded to it as strongly as he did, making it another reason to like him.

By the time Benrey’s note ended, Gordon was starting to catch his breath. “That’s… very pretty.”

Him saying it was pretty was nothing new but not many people had nice things to say about it so Benrey was allowed to bask in that a little, right? “Eh, yeah, it is.”

With a groan, Gordon shifted before finally sitting up. Using the bed, he pulled himself to his feet and scrambled at the nightstand until the found his glasses. “Ugh, what happened?”

“You were having a nightmare so I woke you.” Benrey grabbed the blankets and pulled them back up onto the bed. “Also, I got good news. I know how fix your hand.”

Gordon raised and eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he sat on the edge of bed. Probably an invitation to continue, right? So pushing the pile of blankets on his lap to the side, Benrey shifted to sit next to Gordon, his legs hanging of the edge.

“You said, uh, that your hand can’t grow back but it can be reattached, right? So all we gotta do is go back to Black Mesa and find it, right?”

“Well, thanks for waking me and for the thought I guess. That won’t work though. It’s gotta be reattached like within a couple hours, I think. It’s been days, it’s probably rotted by now if something hasn’t eaten it.”

“Oh.” That was fine though because if reattachment was an option with one’s own hand why wouldn’t it work with someone else’s? “Just take my hand then.” He held up his right hand. “Chop off your gun hand and then put mine there instead. My hand grows back so it’s… uh, not a problem. If you want I can even do this.” He shifted his right hand to be about the same size and shade of brown as Gordon’s, even doing his best to mimic the nails and way the palm lightened. He did a pretty damn good job too even if the didn’t get all the little lines on the palm and fingertips quite right. In his defense those were impossible, there were too damn many. What purpose did they even serve?

Gordon stared at it in silence for a few seconds. “That’s a pretty cool trick and I appreciate the offer but I don’t… it doesn’t work like that. I don’t think hand transplants are a thing.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re just not a thing people do.”

“Well, why don’t we try it and see what happens. I got, uh… magic healing powers or whatever so maybe it’ll work for us. You got a… a hatchet or something somewhere? Probably need towels too because it’ll get messy.” Benrey stood to start looking for one. “Or I could use my teeth. I can make them pretty sharp. Never bit through bone before though so that might…”

“Nope, absolutely fucking not! You’re not chopping or worse biting any part of me off. Don’t even fucking try it.”

Benrey turned to look at him to see he’d stood too. “Why so mad, bro? I’m trying to help.”

“I’m not mad.” True to his word, the emotion in his voice had settled down some. “I’m just… a bit freaked out because you just casually offered to bite my arm off.” He held his gun hand close to his chest as he turned his body away slightly. Did he think Benrey would try to bite it off without permission? “That’s a scary fucking thought, dude. Don’t bring that kind of thing up like it’s no big deal.”

“How else am I suppose to stick my severed hand to yours though? I don’t think it’ll attach to skin or… or your gun. So I gotta like… give it something to attach to.”

“Maybe drop the idea or at least it put on hold until we find a surgeon willing to try it so I don’t have to live through my hand getting cut off again. That shit hurts, man, like a lot. I know you probably don’t feel pain or whatever but… I’d rather keep the gun hand for forever then go through that again, all right?”

“So you can’t uh… just choose to stop feeling pain then?” Probably it was Benrey’s own fault for never paying attention before now. In his defense though, how was he supposed to guess humans were so fragile and pathetic? Maybe he should be disgusted with them for being so weak but… he didn’t really care. He disliked most humans anyway and Gordon had always been one of the few he did like, knowing he was soft and fragile didn’t change that. If anything, it made him like him more in a way because now he wanted to protect him.

“No, no I can’t. So, again, thanks for the offer but right now, it’s a big fucking no thank you.”

“Damn, okay.” And so Benrey would continue to feel bad and not be allowed to put the security officer uniform back on even if he ever did find a new one. He took something way from Gordon and couldn’t fix it, so it was only fair Gordon be allowed to continue to take that away from him.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page, finally. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna play the Game Cube for a bit. I’ll keep the volume low so you can sleep if you want but I just… don’t wanna go back to bed right now.”

They’d played all their multiplayer games earlier and neither had had the chance to start the single player games. So instead of asking to play with him on one of those, Benrey pulled both chairs over so he’d be able to sit next to Gordon while he played. It wasn’t often he got a chance to watch someone else play something.

After choosing a game and inserting it into the Game Cube, Gordon settled into the chair Benrey had brought for him with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

***

“Mr. Freeman, are you sure you wanna go back to Black Mesa? I mean, uh… I mean we just got out and it wasn’t very fun when we were there. Especially for you, I think… right? You lost your arm and, and almost died like… a lot of times. Why would you wanna go back?”

Tommy was right, Gordon didn’t particularly want to go back, especially not after only maybe like four hours of sleep last night. If he was planning on suggesting this today he should’ve gone back to bed. But he’d already had one nightmare about losing his hand, adding the idea of Benrey biting it off to his mind could’ve far too easily resulted in returning to an even worse version of that dream. So instead he’d been stupid and played games for the rest of the night while Benrey watched and now he was regretting it because the only thing he’d done today was eat breakfast and step outside the hotel and he was already tired. The dessert heat that was starting to properly set in wasn’t helping. But alas, the longer they put off this reconnaissance trip, the harder it would be to get themselves to do it and so…

“No, I don’t particularly want to go back but we have to. We’re still trying to get in touch with someone who can give us some kind of compensation and to let us know what are jobs are if we still have any. We also should look for survivors and actually fucking help them if we can.” He looked pointedly at Benrey who didn’t even seem to be paying attention but whatever. Gordon had checked again with him before stepping out of their room and made sure he still didn’t have a gun. Not that that made him not dangerous, just less so. Though to be fair, he’d been far from the only one causing problems in that realm. Granted most of the people they’d killed had been clones so… it wasn’t as bad it as could’ve been. “I mean we know Darnold is probably still alive, right? So we should retrieve him even if he is the only one.”

Maybe Darnold would be able to do something about Gordon’s gun hand too since he was the cause of it. Probably not but in addition to being a living person and thus worth saving, it was more than enough reason to go back for him.

“I guess you’re right, huh? We got teleported out but not everyone’s so lucky.”

“Exactly.”

And so they went back to quietly waiting for Bubby and Dr. Coomer to return with the promised car. Hopefully they weren’t stealing it but Gordon wouldn’t put it past them. If so they would at least hopefully have the decency to do it in such a way that Gordon wouldn’t know for sure that it was stolen and thus he wouldn’t be considered complicit in the theft should they be caught.

It wasn’t a long wait as not even a full minute passed before a car rolled out of the hotel’s parking lot and made it way over to stop in front of them. Bubby was driving and Dr. Coomer sat in the passenger seat. The car was the same bright blue sedan that Gordon had somehow forgotten about seeing on Xen. His brain had been so shot at that point he’d likely have chalked it up to an hallucination if he wasn’t seeing it again here. He wasn’t going to ask though because digging Bubby’s secrets out of him wasn’t an adventure he was ready to embark on yet.

“Hello Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said as Bubby rolled down the window at Gordon’s gesture for him to do so.

“Yes, hello to you too, Dr. Coomer. Now Bubby, could you move to the back? I would like to drive.” It should help keep him awake and give him something to focus on that wasn’t bad thoughts.

“Hell no. It’s my car, I’m driving. Get in the back.” Without seemingly any button press from him, the back door clicked and swung open as if motorized. “I can’t believe you made me roll down my window for that.”

Gordon took a breath to insist he at least be allowed a turn at driving sometime during this trip but… let out it with a sigh instead. Arguing with Bubby was like arguing with a cat over dinnertime; useless, but unlike a cat, Bubby had the means to enforce his will. Besides, he was already rolling his window back up, again seemingly without any button press or crank. Did he control the car with him mind? That’d be pretty cool.

Tommy was already climbing in, sliding all the way to the far side. Very much not wanting to sit in the middle, Gordon turned to Benrey, gesturing him to go in. “You next. We, or you and Tommy if he volunteers instead, can swap for the window seat on the way back if you want.” It was only fair since the middle was always the worst seat. “As long you don’t put any glue in my seat this time anyway. If you do that, all bets are off and you’re getting shoved in the trunk for the return trip.” Not a threat Gordon could ever hope to enforce but it was the thought that counted.

“I’m outta glue. Used it all last time ‘cause I didn’t think I’d get another opportunity. What a waste.”

“Nope, not a waste. You got your laugh and now we don’t gotta worry about that anymore, a win-win. Now hop in the car.” Gordon gestured again.

Surprisingly Benrey obeyed without any further prompting. Gordon slid in after him, pulling the door shut behind him. Inside was pleasantly cool, yay for good air conditioning, and the seats were about as comfy as car seats could get. Which wasn’t very but it would help make the long trip there and back a bit less awful even if he did have to sit shoulder to shoulder with Benrey the whole time.

***

Tommy’s road games were fun for maybe a grand total of five minutes after they left the bounds of Tuefort. Not that Benrey had been able to participate much anyway being stuck in the middle back seat. He should’ve insisted they get a Game Boy or PS Vita before setting out on this road trip. Except he hadn’t even been given time to think about it. The others had all decided they were going without consulting him and then had just assumed he’d come with. A correct assumption because even if he didn’t want to go personally, if the rest of them were, he might as well too since he had nothing else to do, but it still would’ve been nice if they’d included him in the conversation.

Another reason he’d have liked to be consulted was, despite their intended destination, Gordon hadn’t put he HEV suit back on, nor had he even bothered to bring it. Benrey hadn’t thought much about his safety before but that was before he knew exactly how weak humans were. It was a miracle he’d survived and the fact that he did was probably due solely to the HEV suit because unlike the rest of them, he was just a normal human. So Benrey would’ve told him to put it back on if he’d been given the chance because him dying and staying that way would be a bummer. Too late now though, he should’ve paid better attention to their breakfast conversation.

About an hour into the ride, Gordon fell asleep. At first just slightly slumped towards Benrey. But then the bouncing of the car over the less than perfectly maintained road brought him closer and closer until he was leaning into Benrey. His height meant that his head rested against the side of Benrey’s instead of on his shoulder as was supposedly supposed to happen when one person fell asleep on another. Benrey didn’t care though, he was just sitting here doing nothing anyway.

He cared a bit more though when Gordon stole his arm. Hugging it, he pulled it to his chest. Gently trying to pull his arm out failed. Meaning if Benrey wanted freedom, he’d probably end up waking Gordon. Which… he couldn’t do, right? Because that was one of the rules for having a pet; when it fell asleep on one’s self, moving enough to wake it was wasn’t allowed. That’s what everyone who had pets always said anyway. Benrey had never understood why but he’d also never had a pet before. And he still didn’t quite get the point of such a law but Gordon was his pet now, right?

He’d taken responsibility for making sure Gordon didn’t steal anything during their journey through Black Mesa. And now because of how weak and fragile he knew Gordon was, especially without the HEV suit, Benrey was taking responsibility for helping keep him alive. Which, as far as he knew was how having a pet worked – unless the pet was immortal, like Sunkist but she was a special case – which made Gordon his pet and thus he wasn’t allowed to move enough to wake him. Meaning he was stuck like this for the rest of the trip.

Not necessarily a the worst thing though. Gordon was warm, soft and… so much touching was a lot but not an unpleasant ‘a lot’. Benrey had never been touched this much before. It was new and thus he was content with it continuing for a little while.

~

“We’ve made it black to Back Mesa!” Coomer said, jerking Benrey out back to the present. “Again!” He climbed out and slammed the door behind him.

Gordon stirred, hugging Benrey’s arm a little tighter but somehow didn’t wake.

“Oh, I hope my Beyblades aren’t too covered in zombie goo.” Once out, Tommy closed his door much more softly.

Benrey wanted out too but… Gordon. What was he supposed to do? Could he pick Gordon up without waking him? If so, that wouldn’t count as breaking the law, right?

“Wake him up or push him out,” Bubby said, making no move to get out himself.

“I can’t. He’s asleep. You’re not allowed to wake your pets up when they fall asleep on you. It’s illegal.” Benrey even kept his voice low because he was a good pet owner.

Bubby cackled. “That’s real cute but we got stuff to do.” He pressed down on the steering wheel’s horn, making seemingly the whole car vibrate with a blaring beep louder than any horn in any of the car games Benrey had ever played.

Gordon jerked awake with a loud gasp, shooting up and finally letting go of Benrey’s arm so he could raise his gun hand. That was fine though because Benrey wasn’t the one who’d woken him so no laws had been broken. “What the fuck man?” His gun hand remained up but he seemed aware enough to know there was nothing to fire it at.

Bubby let go of the horn. “We’ve arrived so stop cuddling your boyfriend and get out of the car.”

“What? Boyfriend? I don’t have…” He cut off as he looked Benrey. “Oh, you mean… No. We weren’t. … Wait, we weren’t cuddling right?”

“Nah, not cuddling. You were just sleeping on me and uh… stealing my arm.” Which now felt awfully cold.

Gordon grimaced before quickly turning away and scrambling out of the car. Benrey followed. The door closed automatically behind him.

“Hello Gordon! I hope you had a nice nap,” Coomer said. “As you can see we’ve arrived at our destination. Where do you suggest we begin looking for survivors?”

“Oh, um… actually yeah, I did a have a nice nap, thanks. I feel much better now. First, I think we should…” Gordon cut off as he turned around. “Where’s the car?”

Benrey turned to look too. Where the car had just been, Bubby stood alone between the tire tracks. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” He set a quick pace as he started for Black Mesa’s entrance. To keep the place secret, the building wasn’t much but it was intact. Meaning the secret elevator in its basement would probably safely take them to the living area.

As the rest of them set in to following Bubby, Gordon fell into step with Benrey. “You wouldn’t happen to know what’s up with Bubby and that car, would you?”

“Nope. Got no idea.”

“It’s just, assuming you were made in the lab like he was, I thought you might like… I don’t know, have the same powers or something. I guess that’s stupid though, huh? Why would they make two beings with the same exact powers? Obviously they’d want to change things in their next unethical experiment.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty stupid. It’s kinda rude to assume we’re the same just ‘cause I might’ve come from a tube too.”

“It’s not… you know what? Sure, that was a rude assumption. I’m sorry I made it.” At the building now, Gordon pulled them to a halt before entering, grabbing Benrey lightly by the elbow to stop him from continuing in. “But, uh, before we go in, you really know nothing about where you came from? Like you have no idea at all if they kidnapped you as a baby or an egg or whatever or if they literally made you in a tube? No one ever mentioned it to you or around you? Really?”

“Uh… if they did I don’t remember it.” Benrey had already told Gordon he wasn’t sure if he was made in the lab or not yesterday. Why was he bringing it up again? Benrey had certainly found himself a pet who was bad at listening, huh? Maybe he should try to train him better. How did one train a human though? “Do you remember when you were born?” It was ‘born’, right? Or did humans hatch from eggs like birds? What did it even mean to be ‘born’? How did it differ from hatching from an egg?

“No but I know what I am and I know who birthed me and on what date and in which state and city. Heck I even know the hospital. Where you came from and what you literally fucking are, are like… important things to know, man.”

“Well… I don’t know any of that stuff ‘bout me.” Nor did he really care. “What’cha gonna do ‘bout it?”

Gordon stared at him in silence for a few seconds, his face unreadable. “Nothing, ‘cause I can’t do anything. But we’re gonna talk about this more later.”

Before Benrey could ask what more there was to talk about, Gordon turned and headed into the building. It was nice that he was paying more attention to Benrey without Benrey even needing to do anything but why’d he have to be so weird about it? Why did he care about what Benrey was or where he came from? Those things didn’t matter… did they?

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