#i did a quick research on this guy

[kumeramen]

Ok this is weird

Hbu Sakura X gyomei from kny? Btw love Ur art🥹

I don't think it's weird at all anon~! I also had drawn her with a giant tree so—

[westmansion]

my fault for thinking about it too much but i kinda think youre a coward if you keep repeating "AUUGH I WANNA PLAY THIS GAME SO BAD" but refuse to even THINK about just emu it lol

[skywitchmaja]

oh my god. just saw a post that pissed me off SO MUCH. ugh. in short:

[erismourn]

i found out a series of books I rly liked is written by a huge piece of shit, should I donate the books or just use them as firestarters

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

breaking my silence we as a fandom (collective) need to have a quick meeting. now look, we love praising fan artists and giving them lots of love which, hey they deserve it cuz they’re amazing and incredible and talented and should be revered but!! i think we need to give an equated amount of love to fanfic writers. these mfs are a) putting their time and effort into A NON PROFIT PIECE OF MEDIA entirely for their and our benefit just because they want to b) going through life threatening situations to get their chapters out c) using their talents to feed our delusions and desires d) making OUR LITTLE DUMB HEADCANONS COME TO LIFE!! THEY MAKE IT HAPPEN!! THEY MAKE IT REAL!! i will literally forever be indebted to fanfic writers bc no matter if their work gets 10000 hits 10 hits or stays in their notes app they STILL!! WROTE IT!! still took the time to carefully craft and mend their masterpiece!! made someone’s day even if it was their own!!! the fact that some of them come up with LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF WORDS OF FIC feels kinda undermined to me??? like mf they DID THAT AND NO ONE ASKED THEM TO? (mean that positively) LIKE THEY JUST DID? not to mention the research and genuine care that goes into some fics I’ve seen. and the fact that some try to make their fics accessible by writing it so anyone who isn’t even in the fandom understands the story?? anyway. fanfic writers all around not just mutuals (tho i love u guys) truly, you’re amazing. kindergarten teacher voice everyone say thank you fanfic writers. <3333333333

[pellucid-constellations]

Set in Stone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst but just a little to start

a/n: hi 😌 please enjoy my random inspo after the mess that is my life happened. I plan to write more for these guys so consider this a prologue :)

Masterlist ♡

~~

Time moved slower in the library. 

People spoke quieter, the air stood still, dim sunlight stiffened in lines that cut across endless tables. 

There was no real reason for you to be here. 

None at all. 

You welcomed the faint buzzing in your ears anyway, relished in the quiet you couldn’t find elsewhere. Flipping the page and going to the next, you pretended you did belong. Maybe as a scholar or researcher. Maybe an acclaimed author. An inventor, entrepreneur, alchemist—anything but the bleak reality. 

You were stuck. So, incredibly stuck. 

The high lord was coming today. You knew if you weren't in the hall with your family upon his arrival you would get an earful, but it was difficult to pull away from your beautiful corner of the night court.

No one ever came in here, and if they did they were over a millennium old and cared only for the books on foreign policy and probably the torture of young children, if you had to take a guess. But there was plenty of enjoyable material lining the shelves. Sure, it wasn’t very joyful, but it was informative, and anything was better than listening to your father blab on about your marriage prospects—an uncomfortable conversation that was to come to fruition any day now. 

With any luck, your husband would be a merchant who traveled endlessly or a soldier whose life would come to a quick end, leaving you free of any wifely obligations. But luck was hardly on your side, and as the daughter of a noble you were expecting a husband of the same station. 

And dukes were the absolute worst, all self-important and stagnant.  

An unfamiliar echo sent your head whipping to the side before you could tame your reaction. The library door swung open with such force it sent dusty air flying past your face. Typically, the old men entered meekly, the hefty door difficult for them to open. The abruptness of this entry, the power that seeped across the threshold, had you standing and pressing yourself against the table in milliseconds. 

You weren’t a fighter. Women were not allowed to learn anything of the sort here. You briefly debated if your embroidery skills would be enough to pose a threat to this presence, but that thought wisped away with the flickering shadows twining around your ankles. 

You didn’t recognize him at first. The high lord and his circle didn’t come to court often, and even when they did, they stayed far away on the dais or slinked around in hallways threateningly. And this man especially—the spy—he was almost always cloaked in shadow. 

His shadows weren’t covering him now, instead opting to twist up your body in a terrifying display. Were they searching you? Attempting to suffocate you? Paralyze you? 

It didn’t matter much, not when the shadowsinger himself was standing before you, exposed and armed to the teeth, his amber eyes locked on your own widened gaze. 

Your breath came out in short pants, uncomfortable and hard to capture. Your knuckles went white against the table, and you were sure if you were stronger, fractures would have appeared in the wood. The edge dug into your back. Shadows continued to make paths up your skin. 

The spymaster didn’t look away. 

The trembling began. It started with your jaw, then your legs, and then your chest. Breathing became nearly impossible. 

“Take care of that.” 

The last time the high lord made his rounds in court, those words had been a death sentence. One the man before you had carried out. A simple flick of his wrist and shadows had encased the lowly merchant that had insulted the high lady. His screams still echoed in the hall. 

At least, they echoed for you. 

The merchant was not a good man. Most that resided in the night court were not good people. But death was easy to come by here, and the shadowsinger—with his glaring siphons only inches away—was an executioner. 

Your life was little, meaningless, no direction or purpose other than marriage and continuing a family line, but you wanted to live for the chance of more. For the hope that one day, you might be free of this dank palace. 

Something softened in the spymaster’s eyes, and then he took a step forward, edging his hand towards you, palm up. The screeching of the table at your back made him halt. Your knees were shaking, your book now toppled over to the floor, and the shadows had refused to answer the call from their master. But you stood your ground, expecting a bruise where the table connected to your skin. 

“I apologize,” the Illyrian spoke, causing you to flinch once again. His own features seemed to recoil, and he took half a step back. “I am here on business for the high lord. I only seek the artifact room.” 

If you answered him, perhaps he would spare you. 

Your mouth opened and closed several times before the first sounds left your lips. “In the back. B-by the archives.” 

He nodded, but the action seemed delayed, slowed. As if he was measuring your reactions, trying to anticipate them. When you didn’t flinch again, he sent his hand out once more, this time with more force. Your breath caught, but when the shadows retreated from your body, some of the tension left you. 

The shadowsinger sidestepped, taking the longest route possible around your table toward the artifact room. Once his back was turned, you scrambled. You left the book spine up on the floor, quickly gathering your belongings with shaking hands and trembling fingers. The echoing of the man’s heavy boots rang with each step he took, but it was reassuring—it meant he was getting further and further away. 

It wasn’t until your hand met the sturdy door that fear crept back along the edges of your chest. 

“Your name?” 

The words were powerful, gravelly, but they were soft somehow. Effortfully tamed. 

You gave him your name, but the sound was lost in the swinging of the door.

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Boyfriend is to Husband

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔

content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.

credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)

a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…

word count: 2.2k

I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!

You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment. 

After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together. 

Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.

After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines. 

To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly. 

First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point. 

Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.

She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”

“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous. 

You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment. 

You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance. 

“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was. 

The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of. 

“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did. 

Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired. 

You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long. 

After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top. 

There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers. 

You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response. 

“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse. 

Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple. 

They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend. 

From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”

Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband. 

You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you. 

Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk. 

“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back. 

“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.” 

“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”

Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”

You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record. 

Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going. 

“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”

“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”

Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”

He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window. 

You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt. 

Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere. 

You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold. 

“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot. 

You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present. 

“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest. 

Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces. 

You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you. 

“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful. 

You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads. 

“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.” 

You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”

Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic. 

“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”

His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco. 

“Husband.”

Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours. 

His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera. 

“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk. 

He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking. 

“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”

He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat. 

Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face. 

“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours. 

Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”

He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”

“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap. 

“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”

“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”

“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”

You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”

“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”

“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec. 

Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”

He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth. 

He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap. 

Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump. 

“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face. 

The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way. 

He also never lets the husband thing go. 

As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”

As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”

As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”

As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”

As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”

This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament. 

“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”

“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”

“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”

“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”

“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”

“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”

“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”

“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”

“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”

“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”

“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”

Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine. 

You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.

“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’

“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”

You looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”

“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”

You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!

- Lauro ♡

[tryslora]

On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene. 

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes. 

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those. 

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

[agathah]

A Botticelli Angel

This was so fun to do, I did a quick research on Botticelli's technique on oil painting and tried to recreate that digitally. I feel like I need to try drawing in this style more times so it can be more accurate, but I hope you guys like it!

PRINTS are on my fixed post 🫶

[phantom-0-writer]

Nightwing's car guy

Dick was doing well to establish himself in Bludhaven. He had an apartment, it was shitty but it was his. He had a day job as police officer, half the people there were in the cartels Nightwing was trying to crack down on, and the other half were in the cartels Nightwing was still trying to trace. He had his suit, still bat-grade, blue instead of the red, yellow, and green Jason got to wear now.

He did't have a cave. Or maybe it should be a nest because the whole bird thing. Burrow? What was the thing owls lived in called? The point is he made due without it. He had his apartment, and he had his supplies stashed away. It wasn't as much as in the Cave, but he didn't have Cave-funding. He could make due.

He didn't have an Oracle in his ear. But that came with the added bonus of not having a Bat either. He could do his own research, find his own information. And it wasn't like he and Babs were totally cut off. It was just only a little weird, because she was technically his ex. Sure she would be in his corner, but she was still his ex. He needed to save some face. Especially since he knew that Bruce and Babs liked to... talk. He could make due.

The only thing Dick was maybe, sorta, just maybe having a little trouble was with his bike. Well it wasn't his bike, it was Nightwing's. Which was precisely the trouble. He'd found a place to stash it, but Dick had never been a car guy... or in this case a bike guy. He would chase his rouges, speeding through the streets, and sure the bike was made for the tight corners and quick turns and the high speeds, and sure it could take a hit or two. But what about three or four? Or five?

Point was Dick needed a car- a bike guy. One that was cheap (he was only a cop), and knew how to not ask questions and keep his mouth shut (again- Nightwing's bike). All that on top of knowing enough on how to fix his bike. (it wasn't exactly the type you could find in store).

But the solution seemed to find him. Which Dick was aware was not generally how it worked, but he would count his blessings. He had been out on patrol, the type that had involved his bike and high speeds. Unfortunately it did not involve the perp in handcuffs and on his way to jail. Dick had been on his tail, could've had him too, if the bike hadn't started sputtering. Dick had done as much as he could for it, but she really needed a pair of eyes that actually knew what they were looking at.

Mumbling curses to himself, Nightwing had been ready to head off to at least catch a dust trail of what operation he'd find himself in next. He could feel the eyes watching him. His hair stood in edge, and when Nightwing turned to look around he couldn't see anyone. Maybe he was being haunted. Trying to arrange his bearings, Nightwing turned back around to get on his bike. When there was suddenly a mop of choppy black hair couched down next to it.

Nightwing blinked at him. How had he managed to get there? "Uh, something you need, man?" Nightwing asked the boy, totally not freaked out.

The boy- teen, he was only a year or two younger than Dick- looked up, large blue eyes staring. As if it was odd for Nightwing to have addressed him. It took him a moment longer to realize that the bike was, in fact, Nightwing's. "You need to change your [important engine part]." He pointed lamely, standing up to his height of only a hair shorter than Dick.

"How do you know that?" Nightwing asked before he could think of the danger the unknown person might pose.

"That's why it was making that sound. It'll put too much pressure on the engine so it won't be able to go as fast it would be otherwise. Which, I take it, would cause you problems." he tipped his head in the direction the rouge had run off in.

Nightwing considered it for just a moment, not wanting the perfect opportunity to get away from him. "Do you know how to fix it?"

The guy looked almost offended, "Yeah."

"I'll pay you." Nightwing jumped at the opportunity, "If you fix it."

Any normal person would've said no to a guy dressed in bullet-proof spandex with a blue bird on his chest and a weird mask. "Sure." He shrugged easily, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he eyed the vehicle. After a moment, "Name's Danny, by the way. You'd probably need to know that." Danny eyes his suit, "Who are you, like, blue-jay?"

"Nightwing." He corrected easily, his name hadn't made the streets yet.

"The Robin reject?" Was Danny immediate response, eyebrow arched up in amusement.

"The what?"

Danny grimaced, the laugh never leaving his face, "Ooh, sorry. Touchy subject?"

"I am not a Robin reject." Dick couldn't tell this civilian that he was Robin. Had been.

Nightwing's bike ran better than it had since he had moved to Bludhaven after Danny had gotten his hands on it. And Danny's payment of ("i don't trust ur money, just buy me food") lunch had been a steal in return. Maybe next time they should go somewhere a little nicer.

Because the bike was doing so well, after Danny fixed it.

Not for any other reason.

[sophsbookstore]

Chicken Shop Date

Lando Norris x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word Count: 2,348

Y/N walks into the chicken shop where they're filming the newest episode of her and her best friends youtube show Chicken Shop Date. Y/N and her best friend Amelia have been running the channel for a few years now, both girls switching off taking turns dating different celebrities.

Today Lando Norris was to be on the channel, and Y/N was ecstatic. Y/N has always been a big fan of formula one, with McLaren being one of, if not her favorite team. The original plan was for Amelia to be doing the date, the girls always switching off interviewing every other date, but Amelia knowing how much Y/N liked Lando, trades spots with the girl trying to set her friend up.

“Ok Y/N, Lando should be coming round the corner in a few.” One of the PA’s says, kneeling next to Y/N who was already sitting at the table, wiping her nervously sweaty hands against her legs.

“Y/N are you excited?” Amelia asks her best friend, Y/N side eyeing her friend before turning her attention back to the empty chair ahead of her.

“You suck, you know how much I like him, it was your turn to go on a date anyway!” Y/N whisper shouts. Amelia laughs, giving her bestie a quick hug before going to her spot behind the camera. The rest of the crew gets ready as Lando and his team enter the set.

Y/N watches anxiously as Lando shakes the crew member's hads, introducing himself to everyone before coming over and sitting across from her. “Hi, im Lando” the curly haired man says, holding his hand out across the table for Y/N to shake.

She does so, blush creeping onto her face. “Im Y/N, but i'm sure you already knew that” the girl stutters out. “That over there is my co-host Amelia, which I'm sure you already knew as well..” Y/N says kicking herself under the table in embarrassment. Lando looks at the girl, the smile never leaving his face.

“Ok you guys, we are starting in 3..2..” the director holds up one on his fingers, putting it down as everyone gets quet waiting for Y/N to start talking.

“Do you like chicken nuggets and chips?” what a way to start off the “date”, Y/N thinks to herself.

“I love chicken.” Lando says to the girl, smiling slightly as his head nods with satisfaction.

“That's good, I do as well.” Y/N reminds herself that this isn't a real date, she has to keep up the unbothered, bored character throughout the whole video. This is going to be harder than she thought. “Did you know that chicken makes you more beautiful” Y/N can feel her ears getting hotter.

“Does it really?” Lando asks, feeding into Y/N bit. Y/N agrees with the man, nodding her head.

Just then one of the PA’s comes out and hands Y/N a Capri-Sun, she places one in front of herself and Lando. Lando stares at the bagged drink in confusion, turning his head to the girl in front of him, back at the drink, then to her again. “How did you know I like Capri-Sun?”

“because…I’ve..Been, researching you..” the girl stutters out. Way to not sound like a creepy stalker, Y/N thinks to herself.

“I didn't even know I was doing this until yesterday.” Lando says, trying to steer the conversation away, stabbing his straw into the hole at the top of the bag. “I just looked at my calendar yesterday”

“Really? I've known about this for a while now, I've been manifesting it actually.” Y/N taking a bite of a fry, putting on a confident act for the camera.

“So manifesting actually works?” Lando asks, fixing the hod of his sweatshirt.

“It's been in my diary for about 5 years, you just didn't know about it until now.” Y/N shrugs, Lando leaning forward with laughter.

Y/N quickly looks over at Amelia, the girl silently laughing at her friend's awkwardness. Looking back at the monitor Amelia notices her friend secretly eyeing her down, turning to face Y/N she gives her a thumbs up, silently telling her that shes doing a good job and has nothing to worry about.

“Are you into, like, racing and motorsport?” Lando asks, trying to capture the girl's attention.

“Oh yes!” this perks Y/N up, being asked about something that she thoroughly enjoys. “I love Formula 1, my dad is a really big McLaren fan, so growing up we all had to be too.” Y/N finishes with a laugh.

“Are you still a McLaren fan?” Lando leans forward in his chair.

Wanting to play hard to get, Y/N leans slightly back in her chair. “I would say so, yes.”

“Who's your favorite McLaren driver.” he asks with a smirk.

“Oscar Piastri.” Y/N says, her face void of any emotion. Lando sighs, frowning slightly as he takes a bite of his food in defeat.

The pair could go on and on about racing, having both grown up watching the sport, as well as having the same favorite team, the two continue talking. “You know, I've never been to a race before.” 

This perks Landos interest. “I should take you sometime. Let me know which race you want to go to and I'll call a few people.” 

Y/N almost chokes on her drink. Did Lando Norris just invite her to her first ever race? Lando Norris. Her celebrity crush, and the person she has been manifesting to have on this show since it gained its popularity.

“I would really like that actually.” Y/N blushes, not being able to think of a cheeky comeback for his offer.

“You know what, bring your family too, you said they were McLaren fans aren't they?” Lando smiles at the girl, Y/N only being able to nod in agreement and thankfulness.

Lando takes a moment to eat some more of his food, Y/N looks over at Amelia, her best friend silently screaming and clapping for the girl. Y/N is stunned, her eyes wide, her mouth making an “o” like shape. Y/N shakes off the excitement, knowing that she still has to finish the “date” before she can get too excited.

“I hear it gets quite hot in there.” Y/N says catching Landos attention.

“Oh yeah, it gets very hot. Yeah, sweaty-”

“It would be even hotter if I was in there.” Y/N says bluntly. Lando opens his mouth to say a comeback, but when his eyes meet Y/N’s he shuts up, instead the blood rushes to his ears and he bites his lip. “Agreed?” Y/N instigates.

All Lando could do was nod and smile, his face getting redder and redder. Y/N takes her moment, taking a sip of her soda for confidence the girl leans forward, giving Lando her full eye contact as the interview carries on.

“Are you a romantic person?” the girl inquires. 

Lando takes a bite of his fry, looking at Y/N as a smile creeps onto his face, he looks down at his meal. “When I need to be.” he looks back up at the girl, still smiling.

“Good to know.” Y/N keeps eye contact with Lando, taking a bite of her fry, the boy winking at her subtly, making her nearly melt off her chair.

The two continue to eat in silence, one of the PA’s signaling to Y/N that they're about halfway through with the interview. This saddens Y/N, she doesnt want it to end. What if this is the first and last time she’ll ever get to see Lando. No, he offered to take her and her family to a race. What if it was just a joke? No, that would be too mean to be a joke.

“What's your ultimate goal?” Lando pulls the girl from her thoughts. “Apart from like this” Lando says motioning to the cameras and food in front of them.

“To fall in love I guess.” Y/N shrugs.

“That's cute.” Lando smiles at the girl. If she wasn't sitting down she would have passed out in the moment. 

Y/N analizes is face, taking in how cute he is before mustering up the confidence to continue the interview. “What's your type?” the girl asks.

“I'm open.” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“What do you specifically look for in a girl then?” Y/N questions the boy in front of her, desperately wanting to know.

“Just someone who's funny, has Y/E/C, beautiful, has Y/H/C, you know?” Lando continues to wait, trying his absolute best to act nonchalant. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, racer, has brown curly hair, brown eyes, a brown hoodie on right now. Nothing much to it really.” Y/N states, matching the energy as Lando looks down at his brown sweatshirt, looking back at the girl and smiling.

“Good to know.”

“Are you a big spoon or a little spoon?” Y/N doesn't waste any time before jumping into the next question.

“I'm big.” Lando responds. 

“That's perfect, I've been looking for a big spoon.” Y/N casually says.

“I've never been a little spoon before.” Lando laughs at the shock on Y/N’s face, the beautiful girl in front of him making him clarify that he's never been a little spoon before. “We could try,” Lando quickly says to Y/N, both taking a moment to imagine such a thing before turning their attention back to one another.

“Do you snore?” Y/N questions the driver in front of her.

“Yes.” he replies bluntly, leaning his body slightly more forward.

“No, really? That's a deal breaker for me.” Y/N puts on a fake sad face. She looks at the driver in front her, his face dropping ever so slightly, but enough for it to be noticeable. “It's ok, we can work around it” Lando nodded in agreement with the girl, his face perking up a bit more.

“How far away do you live?” Y/N asks, not caring about how creepy the question can sound. 

Lando laughs, looking down at his food before looking back up at Y/N “I love in Monaco.”

“Shoot.” Y/N sighs, finally breaking eye contact with the beautiful British man. “I don't know if I can do long distance.” 

Landos face falls, his smile faltering to a frown. “Well that's no good is it?” the two fall back slightly in their seats. 

“Am I going to have to move out to Monaco? Or will you stay in England full time?” Y/N asks, forgetting this is just a playful interview, actually thinking about her hypothetical future with Lando.

“Hmmm.” the driver ponders. “Whatever you want I'm good with.” he smiles.

Y/N laughs, playing along she obviously looks past the camera toward her friend Amelia. “I think we might have to move chicken shop to Monaco.” Both girls laugh, Lando blushing at the idea of Y/N moving her whole life to stay with him in a different country. 

The PA looks at the pair, walking around the camera and sneakily handing Y/N a custom made chicken shop trophy. Y/N thanks the PA before holding the trophy up and looking back at Lando. “You may not come first in anything yet, but you are the first F1 driver to go on a date with me.” Y/N holds out the trophy for Lando to take, he “awws” in response.

Lando holds the trophy in his hands, looking down then looking back up at Y/N “hopefully i'm the last F1 driver you have on. I would say our date was pretty successful.” he smiles.

Y/N doesn't hide her blush this time, looking down and laughing slightly before refocusing back at lando. “Maybe, maybe not. We’re still waiting to hear back from Oscar.” 

The director yells cut. The rest of the crew and various team members walk about the shop finishing their own tasks leaving Lando and Y/N to their own. The pair get up from their chairs at the same time, now standing in front of one another.

“Thank you for this again.” Lando says, motioning to the trophy in his hands. “I really had fun today.”

“Me too, thanks for coming, even if you didn't know until yesterday.” the two laugh, a comfortable silence falling between them.

“Hey umm, maybe we could do this again, no cameras or anything. I'm in England for another week or so if you're free.” Y/N is taken aback, did Lando Norris just ask her on a real date.

“I- umm, yeah I would really like that. I'll give you my number so we can plan it.” 

“Perfect!” Lando smiles, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it, then handing it to Y/N. Y/N quickly types in her phone number, setting her contact name, and taking a picture of herself for the contact photo before handing the phone back to Lando.

“Well then i'll see you soon Lando” Y/N says, looking up at Lando, taking a small step closer to him.

“I'll see you soon Y/N” he holds his arms out, giving the girl a brief yet firm hug, before getting called away by one of his team members.

Y/N stands in shock. Recapping everything that had just happened since the director started filming. Amelia runs up to her friend, nearly tackling the girl with excitement. “What happened, what did he say?” Amelia interrogates Y/N, having witnessed their interaction from afar.

“I just got a real date with Lando Norris.” Y/N says, pulling out her phone to see a text from Lando with an address and time. It's official, her manifestation had worked and she was now going on a real date with the driver she's had a crush on since he signed with her favorite team. Lando Norris.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Omg the dog shapeshifter ask is amazing but like- cat. i can already imagine Tim being all over you and being one of those guys where half his personality is just that he has a cat. Dick would 120% invest in those hoodies with the pouch to carry their cats, and Jason just carries you everywhere (wiggles be danmed).

The only person who has any qualms about it is Alfred because everything is covered in cat hair lmao.

meow. more pawtastic cat villain! reader w/ batfam

@sophiethewitch1 👅

You tended to take the lead when it came to your relationships with the Robins

They were just too busy with duty and heroism that they rarely ever took the time to be or get into relationships. So you would help them, cover them in that area per se.

Though there were times, like an actual cat, that you suddenly hate their asses or be indifferent. You didn’t notice it yourself really. Sometimes you were just stressed from real life problems and whatnot

or dealing with Bruce’s constant sermons about how you were a bad influence on Jason. Blaming you for all these strung up bodies across the streets of Gotham that had been tied up with yarn and catnip.

sometimes you just wanted to reel back the persona you’ve built up as a villain and just chill out

but you see, if there’s anyone who would notice the slightest change in your demeanor it would be the batboys

Tim and Jason would be the first. They spend the most time with you.

Instead of giving them a kiss or a quick fuck after a job well done, you’d just say goodbye and leave.

Not even in your signature cat joke filled way of saying goodbye

Hell you would even just teleport out of there without a word

Tim would have most likely observed you more, but Jason? Jason would be on your ass in seconds

“Hey, kitty? We need to talk.“

Did I mention that the boys love to use various cat related nicknames for you? The cringier the better.

(Damian just calls you pussy at times)

In anycase, Jason knocks on your door. But you do not respond. Like, for a long fucken time.

Ofc, he smashed the door open.

And what does he see?

Well first it was nothing. I mean his eyes weren’t directly on the floor immediately . But then he move his gaze down,

You, in your cat form.

He just about screams. Shrieks. Like I could maintain his sense of dignity for you dear reader but nah. It started as a shout of surprise before it turned into a high pitched cry, and lastly cooing.

He’s confused at first and is worried about your sudden disappearance til you cleared things up.

Something about a curse that turns you into an actual cat at random moments.

You said it interrupted a lot of your civilian business (school, work, etc.) and so your mental health and well being took a decline.

And boy did Jason go mom mode.

He’s more on the practical side. He makes sure you’re comfortable and guarded especially when in dangerous situations.

Will never let you go on a heist with this curse on going. What if you get shot by a guard? What if you get kidnapped by those horrid animal pounds? Not to mention those perverts that would… no he shook his head.

Definitely keeps you within arms reach at all if not most times.

Tim finds out soon after. You tried to ask him to respect your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself. He was scared to death that he did something wrong or exposed something he did that breached your trust.

He immediately buys a ton of cat related products for you.

Not only that he does an extensive amount of research on cat health and diets.

His rooms gets covered by different studies on cat cellular makeup before he realizes that

Oh crap, he kinda enjoyed this.

And he hasn’t looked up how to actually cure this curse of yours.

Damian soon follows. He’s got it the worst out of all members.

Prides himself with his wide experience and knowledge with animals.

He uses visits to the vet as a threat when you misbehave.

But you’re a villain, you don’t get scared easily right? What’s the worse that could happen at the vet’s?

… yeah he almost got you neutered/spayed.

Safe to say that you were much more obedient after that.

Bruce isn’t that available or good with pets, so he mostly just funds whatever the boys do hoping that it’d lead to them not destroying stuff or killing people for you any more than before the curse.

Dick is the last to find out, and that was because Tim dropped a whole thesis about why the latter should definitely have more [Y/N]-cat-duty hours!

I mean just look at those charts! Your happiness is definitely at its highest when you’re with him

(ignoring the fact that he showers you with catnip)

Dick is definitely the

Cuteness aggression that borders on abuse type of cat owner

Very touchy with you.

And yes he invests a lot of money to get have pouches on his suits for you to be in. If not you’d be like that one cat from Spiderman Miles Morales just hanging out from a backpack of sorts, designed so you’ll never fall out.

Collars.

These men have collectively spent around hundreds of thousands of dollars on cat related shit

And you’re still wondering how tf this curse came to be

[riskyraiker]

So I saw your requests were open and that you do both x men and tfp, leading to me wondering how would the team prime and the cons react to a mutant reader? And could readers mutant ability be like Johny Storm from Fantastic 4? (Keep up the good work 👍)

LOVE IT! ALSO YOU GET EXTRA POINTS FOR MIXING UP TFP AND X-MEN. I wrote this as platonic. Let me know if you want any romantic version

------------------------------------

How did you end up like this? No one knows, but they don't even know you're like this. Ecxept Miko, Raf and Jack, since you know that they're friends with huge fraggin robots. When you met the bots it wasn't the best situation, because you were enraged about the events that happened at home that day. Almost engulfed in flames you calm down when you spot Miko talk to a bit bulky bot behind an abandonded building. You saw the bots which resulted in you being brought to the base. You were amazed that you could forget the sorrow you have for being different. You grew close with the team really quick, even Ratchet took a liking to you. The moment the team sees your ability for the first time was when they were cornered by cons in a energon mine. Since there was no backup at the moment you ran out and light yourself up. At first the autobots thought you were an alien or something, but when they realize it's you they didn't believe it at first. The vehicons weren't so lucky since you almost melted some of their limbs. Once the fight was done they just stared at you. "Uhh..guys? Does anyone have some spare clothes?"

Optimus Prime

He would be confused. Like literally confused which is rare, but still you managed to achieve it.

You're human and fire should hurt you. How do you light yourself on fire?!

The moment you tell them that you're a mutant and your not the only one they start to do some research on these so called "mutants"

He would ask you what you can do and what your abilities are.

Doesn't like the idea of having you on the battlefield even if it means that the autobots have the upperhand

You're now his child. No objections.

The team needs help? You're there to melt them down and that earns you a big lecture from Optimus about how they can't risk human lives.

If he's wounded you would melt the metal gently and repair it.

Since he's made of metal some of his plating might be cold. So he absolutely loves how you work like an furnace.

Ratchet

Almost freaked out by your abilities.

"Y/N IS ON FIRE BY THE ALL SPARK WHY IS NO ONE DOING ANYTHING"

The moment he gets to know about your so called mutation he turns into a fragging scientist. Blood samples, dna samples and etc.

Anytime there's any need for repairs he just picks you up and points where repair is needed.

"Fix it, you're smaller, steadier and you're hot"

He wouldn't realize his mistake until you laugh straight into his face "what's so funny? Wha- NO NOT LIKE THAT"

He would love your help in the medbay since you can mold wounds.

Your now his favorite assistant in medbay and in the lab

Bumblebee

He thinks you're so awesome! A human who can light themselves on fire with no harm?!

He would ask you to fly or use any other abilities out or nowhere because he wants to see you as your true self

If you could understand him he would straight up just rant how cool you are. He also gave you a nickname which is Firefly

He loves giving you hugs since you're so warm.

He's in trouble? They're melted before he can even ask for backup

He's your big bro now and Raf your lil bro. You're the best sibling duo there is.

On cold nights he would just keep you on his shoulder so he could feel your warmth close to his face so he can relax

Arcee

Oh she would be speechless. You can melt vehicons, fly somehow and just in general use your abilities

You're now her favorite human (BYE JACK)

She would love to watch you make fireshows

Your warmth would comfort her since she's lonely sometimes

She would call you as backup anytime the team is struggling

✨The sassy team✨

Oh you two would be unstoppable. Cybertronian femme whose sassy and a mutant who is also sassy.

Bulkhead

Oh he would take you for a drive to ask you all kind of questions

First he thought the cons lit you on fire and panicked

After that he wants to see your abilities. That includes you having clothes on (of course🤨)

He would be so interested, but terrified about your ability to melt cybertronians

He's a wrecker! Of course your abilities will be useful.

He wouldn't like the idea of you in the battlefield, but still is amazed how well you handle it.

The big chunky guy is usually warm but won't mind some extra warmth from your body in the colder days.

He's bored? Be ready to fire up.

Wheeljack

Oh oh oh! You'll never hear the end of it. He's around every corner begging you to light up.

He's more chaotic than bulkhead so of course he's after you all the time and asking you to set things on fire.

Wouldn't actually mind going on patrol with you since you're so awesome

He would secretly carry you around on missions to have you melt the cons. I bet he would stare sadisticly.

But don't worry he wouldn't risk your life! If you want to stay safe he won't bother you anymore. (Maybe)

Any old enemy of his he managed to meet on earth would most likely be melted by his request to bring you along.

Ultra Magnus

He would not be happy about you breaking protocol and not staying in the base.

But he would be grateful about you saving the team

"Aaww you're worried about me" No teasing! Now you're in for a 1 hour long lecture

He would find your mutation interesting, but would let it be since he's a robot himself

He's always cold. Mentally. And! Physically so he wouldn't admit it but does love your body warmth.

Smokescreen

"YOU'RE ON FIRE?! COOL!" Wouldn't understand that isn't normal until he's back in his senses. "YOU'RE ON FIRE! AHH PRIMUS WHY ARE YOU ON FIRE!?"

Would absolutely love your abilities even if you would be insecure about being 'different'

If you ever would kick decepticon aft he's your 1# fan in the background

He finds beauty in fire so he thinks you and your abilities are absolutely stunning

If he's scared about succeeding or about the future you would be there on his shoulder warm like an oven which calms him down

-----------------------------

The team were in trouble. Why? There was a surprise attack by Megatron himself. You flew through the groundbridge so you could help the team. You were almost too late as Megatron had his servo/sword up and about to strike Optimus. Hurrying you catch on to his servo and start to heat up, melting his servo in the process. "GAHH! WHAT ARE YOU!?" Megatrons sword and blaster were both out of the game since you melted most of his servo. Having the upperhand, the cons give up and leave. There was one con left. Megatron. "This isn't over, Optimus. Not with you and your firey PET!" Oh oh, he was pissed!

Megatron

That little mutant dare to melt his servo!

He didn't even know you're a human with a mutation until soundwave found footage and info about you.

Would try to get revenge on you, but doesn't want to risk losing his servo again.

For once the warlord was worried about his opponent.

If you could melt his servo, could you melt your way through his whole frame?

He didn't show it, but the thought actually made him shudder.

He couldn't lose to a pathetic human who is 10 times smaller than him.

In short, he hates your guts but loves your abilities.

Soundwave

The moment Megatron asked to find information about you, a switch flipped in his processor.

Finally he found a human interesting. A extraordinary human to be specific

If he had time he would try to see you on cameras so he could catch you for Megatron

He wasn't scared or anything, but would be slightly worried could you melt his screen off?

He did almost catch you, but you lit up inside him so he had to drop you out before he would fall down from the sky.

Knew that you're stronger than anybot thinks. Wouldn't mess with you unless he has something to overpower you for example: some relics

Knockout

If he ever I MEAN EVER sees you in action he would definitely run away and protect his paintjob.

Fire + his beautiful plating/paint job did NOT go together.

If you would try to attack him, you won't see him after a while. He's AFRAID of you.

Would always seem busy when he heard lord Megatron talk about a mission where you could be involved.

"Knockout!" The cherry red medic saluted. "You have a mission to go an retrieve a relic. Y/N could be there, so be quick." "My Liege I'm in the middle of a medical check up I don't have t-time. Send breakdown. He's willing to do it."

If you're on the nemesis he would run away like from the bot zombies in season 3 of tfp xD

Shockwave

You're mutation was...illogical

A human shouldn't be able to light themselves on fire

Would ask permission from Megatron to take you as a test subject.

Be careful not to be caught by him! It would be worse than having others afraid of you and your freaky abilities.

He wanted to see how you could work with your abilities. How could he make them..Logical

Wouldn't be afraid of you. Oh no no no. He would be so so so interested about your abilities he wouldn't care if he would get melted at the same time.

Predaking

He would love your abilities to be on flames, but! Since he's a decepticon and a predacon ofcourse he has to attack you.

Would speak to you someway or another in his bipedal mode during a mission

If he need fire styled company, he would try to contact you. He doesn't care if you're part of the autobots. You're his friend

Frag Megatron and Shockwave. You're warm like him! You're now his grandchild!

You would joke around that he's your actual king! Since you both are fire themed basically.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐛 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: lars content yay! as far as i can tell, i'm one of the few to do anything on him, so i hope there's more than ten people out there interested in him

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: she blinded me with science—thomas dolby

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• This guy is a snacker

• Take one look at him. You can't tell me that he doesn't constantly skip out on meals in favor of research, usually just pulling a granola bar or stained tupperware from his desk drawer to eat while he works

• Don't get me wrong, Lars can still devour a good bit of food. Sometimes you like to make fun of him for how much good he'll get on his face in the process

• "You're looking at me weird." He frowned at you one day from behind the rims of his glasses

• "Uh, yeah. Wonder why." You grin with mild surprise, watching as leftover rice and beans from the burrito in his hands stuck to the corners of his mouth like glue. He was quick to wipe it all off, ignoring you as you laughed at him

• Aside from that, Lars usually keeps his workplace pretty clean. It's cluttered, sure, but you don't think you've ever seen him wonder where something went. He just always knew where things were. It was like he had a system in his head, and the more you thought about it, the more you decided he definitely did

• The one time someone had even tried to clean his place up, you watched as he immediately jumped in, convincing them that they were needed elsewhere and sending them off before they could mess with his set-up

• Often times, when it's just the two of you alone in the offsight lab, you'll bounce a tennis ball off the wall while Lars types away, only ever looking up to squint at you when the ball gets to close to his head

• "You should really give that to the possesor. I'm sure it'd appreciate it." He hums to you at one point while spinning around in his chair to reach something. Behind you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a metal chair tapping excitedly on glass, and you make a tsking noise

• "Pretty sure you just want me to stop distracting you with my awesome skills." You boast, attempting to do a trickshot only to smack Lars in the back. He glares at you, and you inch backward with a nervous chuckle

• "You know what, I think I'll give it to the possesor."

• "What a brilliant idea." Lars says monotonely. You were quick to get rid of the ball

• He hums while he works!

• It's not anything discernable. In fact, most of the time he isn't even singing real songs. Just little tunes he'll make up on the spot for himself; often as a way to pass the time and make minute tasks fly by

• You notice it quite a lot, but don't really say anything. It's quite entertaining, if you're being truthful

• "Sittin' and waitin' for food. Sittin' and waitin' for food.." He'd improvised once while waiting yet again for a t.v dinner of his to finish its cycle in the labs shared microwave

• "Wow Lars. Voice of an angel, you have."

• "Stuff it."

• Lars doesn't often need help with his work, there's a reason he landed the job after all, but when he does, you're always the first person he goes to. It's a side effect of having spent so much time with you at work, and even outside of it—if you counted lunch breaks and independent experiments as a non-work environment

• He likes being able to get a fresh set of eyes on whatever's stumping him, and it usually doesn't take long for the two of you to work around whatever was holding him up

• Overall, you couldn't think of a better friend/co-worker to have, and the same applies for Lars. Your relationship will only strengthen as time goes on, even withstanding the bizzar experiences that Garraka eventually brings later that year

• But that's for much later. Right now, the two of you are content to sit in the aquarium-turned-headquarters, watching as the hours ticked by without a care in the world

[fuxuannie]

╭₊˚ ๑︰who fell first? who fell harder? we'll find out!

:★: relationship : various hsr men x g-neutral reader (sampo, caelus, blade, luocha)

:★: warnings : none, fluff

:★: a/n : i miss rlly quick works it was so fun huhu.. ANYWAYS PART 2 AFTER 500 YEARS RAGGHHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥 i rlly should write part 2 of sm of my old fics im so sorry (ESPECIALLY MY BLADE MINI SERIES 😔😔🙏)

You fell first, SAMPO fell harder.

Okay, maybe it was wrong to let the attractive wanted criminal hideout in your house.. BUT COME ON. Not like you'd do anything serious about your little crush on him, and if you got to piss off those annoying Silvermane guards then you were more than happy to let him hide in your home.

But maybe Sampo started to visit for other reasons, perhaps a little too interested in the pretty little stranger that deals with his crazy antics.

LUOCHA fell first, you fell harder.

He didn't really see it coming, you were just a Cloud Knight that offered him assistance alongside Sushang. He thought you were breathe-taking, an ethereal statue come to life, your features carved perfectly to fit you. After the whole incident, you couldn't find yourself really leaving him alone.

There was a charm about him which felt alluring, an interest in him you couldn't quite explain. Either way, you figured the way your heart races at something as small as a smile or a laugh, you think that your interest in him has changed to something more.

You fell first, CAELUS fell harder

Just a small crush, it's not like you'd be seeing him often! He was apart of the Express, and he'll aaalways be traveling around the galaxy. He was just the cute guy you would talk about with your research friends every now and then.

Caelus has no idea how he got here, kicking his feet in the air while on March 7ths bed and his hands on his cheeks like hes a highschool girl giggling about her crush.. which honestly wasn't a far off description. "DID YOU SEE HOW THEY LOOKED TODAY??" He gushed, smiling like a lovesick fool as March sighed. "Yes, I did. It's not like its the seventh time you've asked about them..."

BLADE fell first, you fell harder.

I mean, Elio's scripts didn't forbid Stellaron Hunters from romance or things of the sort. You were just surprised that a literal wanted criminal was leaving you flowers and the sort at your door at the late hours of the night.

There was something lowkey attractive about someone as handsome but monotone being kind of obsessed with you to a point he's sending letters and flowers to you everyday. And maybe obsessed was maybe a stretch for how Blade felt about you, you were certainly crazy over him.

[livingemkayde]

barbecue

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. Oral; f!receiving, fingering; f!receiving. Semi public fingering. Pet names. Not proof read.

a/n: guys. the love on ride literally changed my life. like actually. thank you so much for the support. due to the love on the one shot, consider this part 2 (and also my token of deep gratitude). if you haven't already, please check out my masterlist! im writing a din fic so if you want to read more of me, you know where to find it. last thing, my shit keeps getting community labeled so spread the word to change ur settings i guess?? dont really know how to fix that, i give warnings at the top of every fic. really really last thing, i live and breathe for your comments/asks/submissions, i will consider your requests for future parts if you guys want one. love you all tysm

edit: gonna continue with this and make it a small series. comment or message me if you would like to be added to the tag list!!!

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

The ride back is silent.

He just kind of pushed you off his lap and back into the passenger’s seat—then started to drive you home without another word. You were too scared to say anything—you sat, body completely facing him—mouth hanging open like you wanted to say something, but you had no idea what to say to that. 

To rejection. 

Your dad’s call had really killed the vibe. Whenever you looked over at Joel he had a certain scowl that told you he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t want to talk to you. 

But you wanted to talk to him. 

You really did—like you worship the ground he walks on because he’s Joel Miller, and he just pushed you off his lap after sticking his fingers inside you, and you seemingly can’t get enough. 

“So are we gonna talk about—” you look over at him but he cuts you off in an instant. 

“No.” 

“No? Joel—” 

“I said no,” he gives you a quick glance then turns back to the road. 

That shut you up. You feel kind of dejected. Like maybe it was a heat of the moment type thing. But it didn’t feel like that to you, if the quiet heartbreak settling in your chest is any indication. 

You turn to look out the window when you feel tears prick your eyes—your throat becoming heavy. 

All he gives you is a long sigh that pushes through the car. 

When he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t even put the car in park, just switches gears to reverse so he can back out just as quickly. 

Great. 

You mumble a quick thanks and exit—if you slammed the door—you didn’t notice over the ringing in your ears. 

You enter your house, rubbing your hands over your face. When you shut the front door, your head is spinning. You rest your forehead against it but a voice—your dad’s voice—snaps you out of it. 

“Library?” 

You spin around to look at him. 

Fuck. 

You have to keep it together.

“Yeah,” you reply. But even to your ears, you sound a little breathless. 

“That Joel?” He tries to peer out the window of the front door—you know he can see the pick-up pulling out of the drive and into Joel’s across the street. Your dad doesn’t look skeptical—more confused than anything. 

“Yeah. He was nice enough to give me a ride back,” you remove your shoes and start to walk towards the stairs. You need to leave before your cheeks turn beet red. 

You think he’s about to let you off the hook. You’re halfway up the stairs, giving him a small smile goodbye, and he slips in his last question—

“No books?” 

Fuck. 

God. 

Think.

Fuck. 

“N-nothing good there. I need…special—books for my research,” you try to take one more step but he raises his eyebrow at your response and you freeze. 

Special books? What the fuck are you thinking? What does that even mean? 

You wait, breathless. And he kinda scowls at the floor then takes one more look up at you.

“Alright then,” he says and stalks off towards the living room —you let out a staggered breath.

Thank god. 

_

The next few days roll into one long sleepless night. You toss and turn when you remember what happened in the truck. You aren’t embarrassed—but you’re hurt more than anything. 

Joel Miller. 

The last time you saw him, 2 summers ago, he was teaching you how to drive—you asked your dad, but he had said something about how he'd get too frustrated if he tried to teach you. 

He asked Joel to give you your first lesson that night.

You remember sitting in the same truck, but in the driver's seat. He reached over to point out something on the speedometer, and you kept staring at his face instead of the dash—when he looked over and saw you weren’t paying attention he teased you. 

But it was different. 

Not like the teasing from a couple days ago. 

You knew it was playful—this new teasing felt flirtatious. Like he actually cares if you’re seeing someone. 

Cared. 

Fuck. 

You admittedly cried about it. A lot. And didn’t get out of bed much in the days since. 

Your dad miraculously pulled through with the barbecue. It's actually funny how the one time you want him to forget something—he’s way too enthusiastic about it and somehow ends up inviting the whole neighborhood and then some.

Your dad asks you if you want to invite Liam as you lie in bed, you give him a shrug—not really hearing him. If Liam comes, who cares. If Liam doesn’t come, who cares. You certainly don’t. Liam isn’t really anything compared to a certain forty something year old who just rejected you in possibly the worst way imaginable. 

Pathetic is probably the right word. You feel pathetic. Like maybe you’re just another woman in the neighborhood who has a crush on Joel that he would never go for. Like you were a mistake.  

It's certainly what he made you feel like. 

The day of the barbecue comes around and you haul yourself out of bed and into a sundress. Your dad is freaking out downstairs about the logistics of being able to feed the—honestly horrific—amount of people he’s invited. How they’re all going to fit in your backyard is a mystery to you.

You know Joel’s gonna be there—and you don’t know if you can stomach seeing him. The thought makes you a bit dizzy. 

People start flooding in, all giving you a smile, hug, and congratulations as they walk through the house. You try to put on your best face but when every knock or doorbell ringing could be Joel, you bite your lip and furrow your brows. 

There’s a lot of people. And by a lot—there’s probably close to 60 people in this house—spread through the backyard—and you can only really name 20. 

Your phone buzzes and your heart drops a bit. You don’t know why. Joel doesn’t text you. 

Sarah Miller: on our way soon

Fuck. 

You like the message and go to turn off your phone when a certain notification catches your eye. 

Liam Moore: excited to see you :)

So your dad had invited him. You groan a bit, but you can’t be too mad.

You slink to the backyard, saying hi to everyone as you move to find your dad. He’s standing with some men you recognize from the neighborhood. They all congratulate you again and you give them a smile and a thank you in return. 

“You invited Liam?” you say under your breath when the group of men go back to talking. 

“Yeah? I don’t really know what this—” he shrugs his shoulders dramatically “—means so I invited him just in case.” When you don’t respond he continues. 

“That a problem sweetheart?” He looks at you, worried. 

“No, no—I—thank you, dad. I mean it, really. This is awesome,” you give him a small smile and hug. 

You turn towards the entrance of the backyard and see Joel and Sarah walking through the sliding doors. He catches your eye almost immediately—then drops your gaze.

He looks—good. Sporting a couple 6 packs of beer in each hand, Sarah carrying one more behind him. He moves through the crowd easily, saying hi to everyone in passing. God, he looks like a celebrity. It makes you roll your eyes a bit and chug down some of the beer in your hand. 

When he arrives you move past him and greet Sarah. She screams (which makes everyone look at the two of you) and gives you a hug, jumping into your arms. It’s nice to see her. She congratulates you and starts telling you her entire life story that has been the past two years in response to your simple “How’ve you been?” 

You missed her. And you should have stayed in touch more—but you were extremely busy—your dad was lucky to get a phone call once a week. 

“But, he’s not important anymore—isn’t it crazy how fast men can move on? God. Anyways, congratulations again!” She really does move a mile a minute, “Dad, did you say congrats?” 

Her words hit you like a truck—her story, very—ironic—considering your situation with the man she’s pulling over by the bicep. 

“Uh yeah. Hey kid,” he says, not really meeting your eye. 

“‘Hey kid’? Dude—” Sarah gives him a knowing look and pushes him towards you. 

Joel wraps his arm around you—you feel like you can’t breathe. Your face touches his chest and you retract back from the hug like you’ve been burned. It sure feels like it. 

“Congrats,” he gives you a nod and clears his throat. 

Sarah rolls her eyes and gives you a look, her face saying; ‘god why is my dad so weird?’ You try to laugh it off and hope no one notices your blush. 

Thankfully, she pulls you away from him, you toss a look over your shoulder and see him staring back at you. 

_

Liam arrives shortly after. You leave Sarah with some neighborhood friends and make your way to the front door. 

When you open it, you’re pleasantly surprised. 

Liam is—hot? 

You only remember his 12th grade image—sporting hair that was a bit too short for his head and some ill fitting clothes but this is—different. 

He looks nice. Polished. 

Different from what you remembered, or what you expected. 

“Hey!” he says and brings you into a hug. 

“Hey Liam,” you chuckle into his arm.

“Good to see you! I didn’t know if we would ever get together. Have you been getting my calls?” he pulls back and gives you a soft look. 

You feel bad. 

“Uh, I think my dad is like super bad with the phone. I didn’t know you had been calling the house till like yesterday,” you reply sheepishly. God, starting this out with a lie. 

“Hey no worries, anyways, congratulations!” His hand lands on your back as you move to let him inside. It trails a bit lower and you try not to think too much about it. 

“Yeah, you too—Princeton right?” You hope that’s right—you haven’t been keeping up with him. 

“Oh uh Yale, but close enough,” he chuckles and accepts the beer you hand him. 

“Shit. Sorry, I—you know—my brain,” you touch his arm, gently, in apology—and you can’t help but notice the muscle underneath his shirt. “You enjoyed it?” 

“Oh yeah. It was great. Going to Columbia for law school.” 

Hm. Smart. 

“Wow! That’s—wow. Congrats. Really, Liam, that’s awesome,” you say, and you mean it. He’s impressing you. And he’s not so hard on the eyes either. 

It almost makes you forget about your dad’s best friend. Almost. 

Liam pulls you into small talk—you walk him around the house while introducing him to the people you do know—while purposefully trying to avoid the backyard until he suggests getting some air. 

Your dad is the first to greet you—drunk. He’s standing next to Joel. 

“Hey! You made it!” He slurs. Oh god. 

“Yeah thanks for the invite sir,” Liam extends his hand to shake your dad’s. 

“Yeah, yeah…this is Joel,” your dad says as they drop hands. 

Liam extends his to Joel and you bite your lip and almost have to look away out of embarrassment when he takes it. 

“Liam,” he says while shaking. Liam’s eyes turn down to their hands joined and grimaces a bit.

“Joel.” 

“Nice to meet you sir,” Liam says. You can tell he’s trying to drop Joel’s hand. 

“Likewise.” 

Joel lets the handshake go on for far too long. An awkward cloud blankets the air. Liam looks at you and when you meet his eye, you drop his gaze and peek over at Joel. Your dad hardly seems to notice in his drunken state but Joel seems mad—and Liam seems scared. 

When Joel finally lets Liam’s hand go, Liam shakes it out a bit like it’s been crushed. 

Fuck. 

You give Joel a glance and he’s looking back at you—though you can’t read his eye. You shake your head a bit and try to brush it off. You can feel his looks through your father’s conversation. He remains silent—just the occasional scan at Liam when his hand comes to rest on your lower back again. A flick in his jaw is the only indication he might have any emotions towards this situation. 

After some small talk you attempt to pull Liam away. Your dad is way too drunk and Joel is way too brooding for you to witness any longer. 

When you both walk away, you can feel Joel’s hardened gaze bore into the back of your head. It sends shivers through you. 

“You know that guy?” Liam whispers when you exit.

“Yeah, he’s uh—he’s my neighbor,” you stutter. 

“Thought my hand was gonna fall off,” he mutters, looking down at it. 

You smile and just try to laugh it off. 

_

You’re sitting on some lawn chairs with Liam. It's been nice catching up with him. He’s really grown up since the last time you spoke. You wanted to ghost him because he seemed immature. Like the kid you knew four years ago. But this was nice. He was more your speed now. 

And he wasn’t fingering you then pushing you off him in the next instance—which was nice. 

 “I had a good time today,” he says, leaning back on the chair and looking to the side towards you. 

“Me too. Thanks for coming,” you say, smiling back at him. 

“Would you want to—like—get dinner sometime? I know you just got back but…” 

That kind of throws you for a loop. Sure, talking to him at a party is one thing. Dinner—a date—is another. But when your gaze catches Joel standing behind Liam’s head—talking to some woman you don’t recognize—it’s like your mind's made up for you. 

“Sure. That’d be nice,” you say. Liam gives you a smile back. 

You walk him to the door after a bit more talking. Liam said he had something he had to do—you didn’t really hear much after you saw Joel talking to that lady. The kitchen area is still busy with guests—it almost seems like people are still coming in. 

He gives you a kiss on the cheek as he bids you goodbye. You don’t blush. You don’t really do much of anything. 

When you shut the door you let out a huff. This day has been entirely too much and you’re already tired from the thought of seeing your dad drunk again and Sarah’s hyperactive love life she still has to fill you in on.  

“You dating’ him?” 

You whip around to find Joel entering your space. His hands shoved in his pockets. 

You scoff. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to weave in and out of your life when it’s convenient for him. 

“Just leave Joel,” you say, defeated. You don’t want to play this game with him anymore. 

“Smart kid,” he notes but he doesn’t sound that genuine and you really can’t deal with this right now. 

“What’s your problem?” you say, hushed, but no one seems to be paying attention to your conversation. 

“I ain’t got one.”

“The handshake, Joel? C’mon,” you say, shaking your head while looking down at the ground “Fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He asks—angry. 

“I said you’re a fucking asshole,” you meet his eye. That doesn’t surprise him, but you definitely surprise yourself. He looks angrier. If that’s possible. 

He lets it simmer for a bit before speaking again. 

“‘S none of my business.”

“Yeah. It’s not. So stop shooting daggers at him and trying to break his hand.”

“So he’s gonna be comin’ around more often?” 

“Do I need your permission?” 

“No. Just curious," Jesus christ. He’s making you furious. 

“Why?”  

“You know why.” 

That makes your eyes go wide and you stare back at him in shock. How could he be throwing this back in your face after he ignored you?

“No—” you scoff “—I really don’t.” 

He pauses—like he was about to say something snippy—but after hearing your response he falters. He almost looks hurt. Good. You want him to hurt as much as you were. 

“Hey! There you are!” a neighbor you recognize—a younger man, Mason, accompanied by the same woman Joel was just talking to, “C’mon over—lets me get you guys a drink.”

You follow Mason, Joel follows suit. His brooding energy feels uneasy from behind you. 

You and Joel come around to the empty side of the kitchen island and watch as Mason makes you both a drink. Your hand comes down to play with the hem of your dress but Joel’s standing so close to you that his fingers brush yours, you retract away. 

You and Joel stand in between the kitchen counter and the island. Mason and woman opposite you on the other side of the island. 

“So? School was good?” Mason asks like he’s been keeping up with you. 

“Yeah! Yeah, finished up some research—I’m back for the summer but I need to get a job,” you reply sheepishly with a chuckle. He starts talking about how he went to Texas Tech, and you stop paying attention. 

You peek over at Joel beside you, sipping his beer while looking at Mason talking. You doubt Joel is listening. 

“Anyways! A toast! What a smart kiddo—your dad should be really proud,” Mason says while leaning over the island to meet your glass, you and Joel both do the same. 

When you’re coming back from the toast, lips curling around the rim of the glass, Joel's hand lands on your lower back. 

No one can see—the counter coming up to your waist, with no one nearby except for the pair standing across the counter. Joel's standing so close to your side that they don’t even bat an eye when his hand starts to drift lower. 

You choke on your drink—looking at him from the corner of your eye. 

“You okay sweetheart?” The woman asks.

“Yeah—y-yeah. ‘M fine,” you say through a couple of coughs. 

She looks at you, then back at Joel, giving him a smile—then starts talking with Mason again. 

You bite your lip to keep from bursting. You peak over at him again but he remains cool, unmoving, nodding his head every once in a while at the conversation. 

Your dress is short and it rides up with his hand, moving across your backside. 

You bring your cup to your lips, attempting to hide your mouth when you let out a small—

“What the hell are you doing?” under your hushed breath. 

Of course, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way. 

You know you could just walk away. Just excuse yourself from the conversation, leaving him and this woman who obviously wants him, behind. But something deep inside you doesn’t want to. Even through all the hurt he put you through—the heartbreak. You still want him, even if this is wildly inappropriate—and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you break. 

His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, eventually threatening to your panties after he hikes the dress up over his hand. 

The pair in front of you are now talking about some raccoon who keeps terrorizing the neighborhood trash cans and you really couldn’t care less. 

You couldn't care less when he pushes your panties to the side to nudge his fingers through your slick. 

His breath hitches at the feeling of you already soaking. His pointer finger catches on your clit, and you forget how the day started. 

“You sure you’re okay sweetie? You look a little pale,” she continues. God. Annoying. 

“Yeah—sorry. Just a bit tired. Long d-day—” the tip of his finger pushes into you. The pair gives you a confused look and you smile back in the hopes they drop it—and they do—thank god. 

“So that kid Liam, your dad said?” Mason gives you a teasing look. 

“Yeah—Liam. I knew him in high school,” you try to keep your wavering voice to a minimum. 

“You guys look good together. Cute couple,” the woman says and you almost choke.

Not because you and Liam are definitely not dating but because at her comment, Joel sinks a finger deep into you and you try not to conceal your whimper with a cough. 

You can feel him huff and let out a small chuckle beside you. 

“Oh we’re not dating, just friends,” you reply with a breathy laugh. You grip the counter so hard it might break.

“Just friends huh? Looked cozy though,” Joel quips from beside you. His tone is teasing like he’s talking to a friend. The pair in front of you laugh. 

“Yeah just friends, Joel,” you try to chuckle with them but it's hard when his finger begins to pump in and out of you while a second nudges at your entrance. 

The thickness of his fingers leaves you breathless while your head spins. 

You can hear your dad from outside—starting to come in and you know you need to leave.  

Joel hears it too, and his fingers slow. 

You reach behind you when the pair isn’t looking, and carefully but quickly, pull his hand away. You almost moan at the loss of his fingers. 

“Excuse me,” you look at the pair, raising your glass to them and give Joel a meet me upstairs look while you slink away quickly. 

You enter the guest bedroom—you don’t want him to see the messy state of your room from unpacking. 

When you shut the door, you let out a small scream—he’s driving you up the walls—and you keep coming back for more. But he needs to know you’re not just for the taking.

The door opens and shuts as you stand with your back facing it, but you know it’s Joel.

“What the fuck Joel?” you turn, exasperated, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with a hand on his hip. 

When he doesn’t respond you continue—“You can’t just fuck with me whenever you feel like.” 

“I ain’t fuckin’ with you.” 

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say, hands coming to run over your face. “Then what was that downstairs?” No response again. “Is this about Liam?” 

Finally he breaks—“I don’t care about that kid.” 

God, it's like pulling teeth. 

“You don’t care?” you let out a breathless laugh, “Right. Okay. Really seemed like it when you almost broke his hand."

“What?” He steps closer to you, you take one back, “You want me to care?”

“No—I—Jesus, Joel.” You feel like crying, but you bite your lip instead. 

He takes more steps towards you, and you take some more back. Your back hits the wall with a thud and you gasp. 

“You want me to care?” he repeats his statement, a dark, husky drawl wrapping around his words. “‘Bout your little boy toy?” 

You can’t find your words. 

The air is different between you. It’s like he knows that no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever get away from him. That he swirls through your thoughts despite your hardest efforts.

You begin to nod your head before you know what you’re doing. 

His hand comes up and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Open,” he says while pushing his thumb into your mouth—and you do. 

He eyes your mouth, taking his thumb, instinctively sucking on it as he pushes it down on your tongue. 

“Good girl,” he breathes out.

He takes his thumb out of your mouth, running it over your bottom lip—then he moves—and you think he’s going to leave, but he drops down to his knees instead. 

“I do care. Care quite a bit,” he mumbles into the skin of your legs as his hands roam the backs of your thighs. 

He trails kisses up the inside of your legs—his nose disappearing under your dress—but his eyes stay trained on you. 

He reaches up to push your dress to your stomach, and you hold it for him on instinct. 

His nose rubs against your clothed cunt, placing soft kisses there—you let out a strangled moan. 

“Joel…” you let out in a staggered breath. 

He shakes his head like he’s trying to say don’t, and the movement rubs against your clit and your head hits the wall behind you. 

Joel’s hand comes down to push your panties to the side, holding it there. You squirm when the air hits your dripping core. 

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder so he can access you better. Your heel digs into his back in attempts to bring his mouth closer. 

“Fuck, angel,” he says when he sees your wetness. “Always so wet.” 

“Please Joel, I—” his lips come to wrap around your clit, you’re cut off with a strangled moan. 

He sucks and his tongue darts out to flick your clit, then back down to taste your dripping entrance. He groans against you, and the vibrations shoot through your core. 

“Fuck Joel—I—” you know this isn’t right. You asked him up here to put him in his place, but when his tongue does that on you and your orgasm is quickly approaching, you can’t seem to remember what you wanted to talk to him about, “—God. Please—” 

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. Maybe it’s your sad attempts to try and get him to stay with you.

His hand comes up between your legs. His fingers dance over your entrance, soaking it in your wetness. 

The tip of his middle finger prods, but doesn’t sink in like you expect. It makes you squirm and whine nonsense to him. 

“You want him, baby? You wish it was him instead?” He says when he pauses and looks up at you. 

“No—no. God—I—you. Joel, want you,” you whine, and moan even louder when he pushes two fingers in at your response.

“That’s it, good girl,” he says when your walls stretch around his fingers. You feel like you might come just from the feeling of them pushing in—and you get even closer when he pumps them at a slow pace. 

It feels like an apology. Like he’s on his knees begging you to forgive him. But you know him better. It’s more like he’s proving he’s gonna be the only one for you ever. Even when you have boys thinking about you 24/7, and you can’t even spare them a single thought. 

“Joel—I—ah—” 

His lips return back to your clit, sucking and flicking and it pushes you over the edge. He can feel you pulsing around him, whispering a soft, “fuck are you coming?” his shock, evident in his tone. 

You push his head back to your clit, and he works on it, pushing you into white oblivion as you slump against the wall. 

You stand there, panting, for a bit. His own breath coming hot onto your skin while he looks up at you. 

When he slowly removes his fingers and lets your leg down from his shoulder, you moan quietly.

“Kiss me,” you plead, still writhing from your orgasm. 

“Get back to your party,” is all he says while straightening out your dress, and leaving the room. 

_

part iii