#i had a lot of fun with the helm

[noirrelite]

The many ways I've drawn Sierra's eyes since Feb 2022, in rough chronological order (oldest to newest)

[graysongraysoff]

Every time I think I've finally sated my Arthuriana curiosity (my Arthuriosity) I have another fucking Dream

[fandomn00blr]

My Lord of Fortune Rook decided to try and "cheer everyone up" after Minrathous fell to the Venatori by cosplaying as a literal Crow. Some people seemed into it...but Davrin was not amused.

[keferon]

i was inspired by your tf mecha au; do you think that pharma loses his mind working with the pilots similar to the way he loses it at delphi?

like the pressure of being the cmo of so many people who go out and come back dead or injured to the point of decommission isn't going to make him crack, but maybe fielding shockwaves requests for experiment subjects for whatever he's cooking up...now he's forced to choose which of his patients go back out into the field and which ones go to shockwaves lab

and if one of said (technically on his roster) patients is his ex-coworker first aid, whos now drawn shockwaves attention for being mixed up with vortex? 

______________________________________________________________

He was going to kill that motherfucker First Aid. 

The next time the little twerp showed up and buckled into the cockpit, Vortex was going to cause a catastrophic casualty event inside the hangar. Lots of blood. Lots of screaming. Lots of body parts scattered around. Lots of blaming First Aid for going postal before Vortex liquifies his brain. The resolution to murder his pilot eases Vortex’s sour mood slightly, the promise of First Aid’s agonized screams a small comfort. 

The unfortunate part? He really had been starting to like the guy. Shit pilot, but Vortex didn’t need him touching his controls or fucking around with his cockpit settings. First Aid- Felix was a rapt audience when needed and knew how to whimper and complain just right- if he gave into Vortex’s whims too fast, it was no fun. Too long, and Vortex would actually get pissed. First Aid got the timing just right to make twisting the metaphorical screws into him interesting. Hell, First Aid himself was the most interesting thing to crawl into his cockpit. Soft little base-bound medic, ostensibly devoted to the greater good and helping others and whatever bullshit medics liked to harp on about. But there’s no hiding anything that goes on inside Vortex from Vortex, and the way the EKG and brain activity readouts from the pilot’s helm spike during battle is more than just fear or adrenaline. It was cute.

And now the little sad-sack piece of shit was standing him up. 

Not once but twice now the deployment klaxons in the hangar have gone off, and not once but twice the technicians and pilots have swarmed every other mech and left him idle in his docking bay. First Aid didn’t even show up in between raids, leaving Vortex to stew alone. Didn’t come stand in his cockpit, playing the too-loud music Vortex liked best. Didn’t come deliver those dataslugs with information about the various battlefronts opening and closing across the planet and the latest pop-culture updates. Vortex had threatened to drop his canopy on First Aid the last time he’d added that stupid shit, but he’d thought the threat had been hollow enough. First Aid didn’t even come and eat his lunch out on the walkways of the service tower like the fucking loser he is.

The first time Felix failed to show, Vortex had wormed his way into base records to make sure that no fuckwit armchair tactician had reassigned his ‘Aid, but nope, there was First Aid’s actual, government name, faithfully logged against Vortex’s designation in the roster, active duty. 

And maybe he’d checked the roster every day since, so what? It’s called being thorough. 

The hangar salles are emptying of the remainder of the technician crews, skittering well clear of Vortex so he can’t even stage a little accident for the rats. He lets his internal targeting programs pick the white-hot infrared figures out from against the hangar floor and imagines shooting them into pulp. It doesn’t help.

 Two tiny figures push through the doors and make their way across the hanger towards Vortex. He points his chassis cameras at them and adjusts the focus. One is limping, pilot’s helmet tucked under his arm. The other strides next to him, every half-step sideways as they lecture the first. They approach slowly, weaving around technicians and stacks of equipment and Vortex starts flicking through his weapons and motor systems so he can stage the wettest, goriest accident for them (with a big splash radius!). 

The two come closer, the limping one taking his sweet fucking time getting close enough for Vortex’s cameras to pick out details. 

First Aid looks like someone spent a good few days beating the fuck out of him, then went back and made sure to beat the shit out of him too. The pilot is pale and unsteady looking, and one leg of his pilot suit is hiked up over the knee to make space for a bulky medical brace that encases his entire lower leg. He needs help scaling the service tower and limps down the umbilical catwalk, gripping the railing like it’s going to protect him from Vortex’s wrath. Behind him, Pharma’s shiny shoes click with finality, blue-gloved hands clasped neatly over his stomach. 

Vortex pressurizes his hydraulics too fast, the pistons hissing under the weight of his cockpit canopy lifting. Get the fuck in, First Aid, Vortex thinks vengefully at the pilot. Get the fuck in so I can kill you. 

First Aid, damn him to hell and back, takes for-fucking-ever to even get close to Vortex, medical boot clanking unevenly against the walkway. Active duty, Vortex’s giant metal ass. He stops, leaning one hand against Vortex's hull, just enough to the side of the canopy that Vortex can't drop it on him. Asshole. Pharma doesn't even come close enough to him, keeping well enough away that Vortex can't do shit to him. First Aid's hand is a tiny point of warmth against his plating and Vortex is going to kill him out on the catwalk if he doesn’t get in the cockpit right fucking now.

“Felix, you absolutely cannot perform in your condition.” The CMO says stridently, with the conviction of a man who has never heard the word no. “You are not recovered. There is absolutely no reason to risk your safety-”

First Aid’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to get a word in around Pharma’s tirade. The medic blathers on about reinfection, delayed reaction times, yadda yadda yadda proteins and antigens and bullshit Vortex couldn’t give a shit about. 

“Pharma-”  First Aid interrupts with a reedy voice, “I really- I need to go.”

He stumbles into Vortex's cockpit, awkwardly dragging his braced leg over the threshold. Vortex depressurizes the cockpit hydraulics and slams the canopy shut behind him, locking First Aid into his darkness. Pharma stands on the catwalk, looking like someone shoved a lemon through his teeth.

“Pharma’s gone insane.” First Aid blurts. Vortex’s infrared cameras train on him. “He-”

A nervous laugh and his heat signature sways drunkenly.

“I think he's trying to kill me.” First Aid whispers, “I'm sick, but it's not-”

[SIT DOWN]

He collapses into the pilot’s chair, and Vortex pulls the restraints around him tight enough to make him wheeze.

“Vortex-” Vortex drops the tangle of neural-net connectors onto his head with an audible thwack, and the medic dutifully snaps them into place on his helmet, the iris of the connection spinning wide between them.

 First Aid is trembling in the pilot’s chair, hands folded in his lap as if prayer has any chance of saving him. Vortex spins up his powertrain, pressurizing his hydraulics and shouldering free of the service tower’s struts. After a moment’s thought, he turns down his gyroscopes, letting each step rattle the cockpit. He can feel the other’s mind in his systems, fenced in by Vortex’s firewalls, churning with the franticness of a small animal caught in a trap. Vortex calls up a memory of the cockpit oozing with viscera and gore, what remained of the pilot settling into pulpy piles across the cabin floor, directing it at First Aid with viscous intent. The pilot rewards him with a shudder, shoulders hunching and curling into himself. His hands are shaking, and his internal temperature spikes even higher in the infrared. 

Vortex steps out of the hangar, already slotting the set of response coordinates into his navigation system. The shift from idle to top speed has First Aid rattling against his restraints, and each step afterwards knocks his boot against Vortex’s instrument panels. He hopes it hurts. He lets the navicomputer guide his steps, turning his attention back to his captive audience, sending a crackle of electricity through the helmet connections. First Aid spasms in his seat with a grit-toothed moan of pain. Vortex shocks him again to hear that growled sound. Then again, just for good measure. The medic sags forward with a whimper. 

Vortex reaches through their connection, dragging electric claws against the pinned-open neural clusters comprising First Aid’s mind. He spasms again, boot kicking uselessly against Vortex's instrument panels, fingers clawing at the restraints mindlessly. First Aid’s memories flick by him and Vortex’s internal data readouts ping him that his pilot is suffering acute distress. Good. He pushes further, every metric flipping red as First Aid thrashes, consciousness pinned tight by Vortex’s code and picked open like a dying lamb before a vulture. More memories flash by. Cold medibay, cold room, shivering alone under too-thin covers, cold fluid seeping down a IV drip, fever searing too-hot too-cold sick sick sick why not getting better getting worse cold cold cold-

Pharma.

Pharma’s voice, cold and demanding. Pharma’s hands, blue-gloved and cold against First Aid’s skin, pushing in more needles, attaching more sensors, pulling down the covers to check his body- always so, so cold. Memory-First Aid shivers and burns and heaves and there's always, always more cold fluid seeping into his system.

Klaxons. Vortex; he has to-

Pharma pushes him back down and he goes back to shivering and burning and heaving, time slipping by unevenly. Seconds in hours, days in seconds, whole nights spent torturously aware something is wrong with Pharma’s care, wrong with the IV that itches and creeps through his systems, wrong with the so-called disease- not a disease- that's burning through him, only to lose track once again with day. The klaxons go off, and memory-First Aid heaves himself up- why is his leg?- pulls off the sensors and disconnects the turbid IV line with shaking hands- his suit, where’s his- 

The memories slip through Vortex’s grasp- 

The hall is so, so, cold but First Aid had fumbled his way back to his room, found his helmet and pulled his drivesuit on. The klaxons have fallen silent but- 

Pharma. The sight of the CMO makes First Aid falter and draw back, turning a random corner and leaning against the wall. Uncharacteristic fear fills him, and First Aid gags, empty stomach roiling- he needs to run, hide, needs-

Vortex gets a better grip on the panicked memories; the tide of fear permeating them through the haze of sickness is familiar to follow. First Aid’s emotional state thrums through them, his fear of Pharma, the medibay- whatever the fuck was in that IV. Vortex has seen this kind of instinctive fear before- the base, hardwired need for self-preservation that has seasoned pilots screaming for reinforcements or cutting from a fight altogether. He’s caused this feeling enough times. Hell, he remembers before he died- 

First Aid tries to retreat, but Pharma corners him- the panic surging chokingly high- get away get away get away-! The ex-medic’s memories swirl, brain too hazy for a plan- can’t fight Pharma out here in a public hallway- only thing to do is run- run where- pilots don’t run- what do pilots do when they run?

Return to base.

Return to safety.

Return to Vortex.

The thought crystallizes out of First Aid’s chaotic mind. Return to Vortex. Vortex means safety for First Aid, and that’s- why the fuck? Vortex is a violent, awful man turned into a violent, awful, storeys-tall killing machine. He’s tried to kill First Aid before. But here sits First Aid, trembling in fear underneath Vortex’s iron fist and still thinking safe when he thinks of Vortex, standing deep in the bowels of one of the most secure facilities on earth. 

Vortex needs to kill something. Messily. 

Vortex’s radar pings, alerting him to the fact that the aliens will be obliging him today. He barrels forth, pulling his awareness out of First Aid and engaging his combat protocols, the cockpit’s running lights dimming. The first little fucker dies before its fellows can swing around to face Vortex, blades driving home through its technorganic chassis. The spray of mineral-rich arterial fluid spatters across his visor as Vortex rips free of it, already turning to face the next one. First Aid, dazed and infirm as he is, makes a breathy sound of approval as Vortex butchers his way through second with ease. 

Vortex loses himself in the slaughter, hacking his way through the field of enemies with fluid ease. His visor is completely smeared with gore, and somewhere along the way he’d stepped in the deactivated frame of one, organic intestines wrapping around his pede and squelching into his seams. He vents the excess steam from his drives, the heavy plume trailing him as Vortex stomps across the silent, cratered battlefield. He’s not going to indulge First Aid and let him dismount to collect trophies today. His radar cycles quietly, only returning back the signatures of co-pilots. Vortex toys briefly with the idea of killing one of them to finish off the day, but dismisses it. His previous anger has cooled to the point where he can restrain himself from doing something that would definitely get First Aid court martialed and executed.

The RTB order comes crackling through his comms soon enough, and Vortex sets a direct route back to base. First Aid has gone quiet now that the battle is over, the excitement warring with his fatigue and losing, brain activity slowing. Vortex is halfway back to his hangar when realization hits him- First Aid has fallen asleep in the pilot’s chair, head nodding down over his chest, legs stretched out in front of him. Son of a brazen bitch. Vortex has to double check his internal readings and cockpit cams to confirm it; opening the piloting connection again to poke at First Aid before stopping.

It would be so easy to mash his digital fingers into the slumbering jello of First Aid’s brain, reach back through the electronics and grind it into pulp before the medic could even scream, punish him for being late, being absent, being…First Aid. He ghosts over the steady stream of First Aid’s biometric data filtering through his systems, studying the slow ripple of sine waves and EKG readings. The urge to redirect his ventilation systems and fill the cockpit with carbon monoxide itches through his circuits. Send ‘Aid off nice and easy. The thought isn’t as fun as it should be.

Vortex adjusts his gyroscopes, changes his mind, sets them back, then changes his mind and adjusts them again. He goes back to half-watching the biodata’s scroll as he navigates back to base. First Aid sleeps on, limp in the pilot’s chair and head lolling. He’d bit his lip hard enough to bleed during the battle, and the dried blood is beginning to flake off.

Vortex returns to the hangar, perfectly navigating into the docking bay and shifting his systems towards idle. First Aid is still dead to the world, brainwaves ticking nice and open for Vortex to page through. He loosens the pilot’s restraints. No response.

You gotta be dumb as hell to fall asleep inside of an active mech and even dumber to fall asleep inside Vortex. First Aid didn’t seem to get that memo, or maybe he really was too tired to care.  

A technician comes down the walkway, hesitating before knocking on Vortex’s cockpit. He lets his engine rumble and still-warm weapons systems spin warningly until they back off, the whole crew retreating to what they probably think is a safe distance. He checks First Aid for the nth time; still sleeping. He thinks about frying his little pilot’s brain, forcing his way into the unguarded neural pathways and wreaking havoc until ‘Aid is just another gibbering husk the techs will have to haul out of his cockpit. No matter how many different scenarios he comes up with, how many different ways he imagines mutilating and killing First Aid, it feels hollow. Bland. Lacking imagination. A baby's temper tantrum.

The memory of First Aid’s trust sits deep in Vortex’s memory banks. The fragile data points and bioscans are tucked safely away in the core of his processor, spelling out V-O-R-T-E-X and S-A-F-E-T-Y in their cross-referenced entirety. He’s so- stupid, dumb, trusting ‘Aid. Vortex reaches through the connection, pushing back into First Aid’s mind with ease. The pilot twitches in his sleep, groans a little, but there’s none of the expected base fear and get-out instinct as Vortex pets gently over the fragile organic network, trailing electric signals across his nervous system. Brain cells or someshit. Where the hell is memory stored in this thing?

He presses on a neural cluster, sends Vortex rippling through the neurons and gets back shit like strong and terrifying and a complex little series of impulses that feels like a combination of safe and trust, which are words that have no business having any relation to Vortex. Sickening. He thinks about pressing further in, muscling into Felix’s welcoming brain like he did into the mech’s systems when he first died and staying there. He sends Vortex out again, receives trust and safe and-

Vortex withdraws. The technicians are setting up hoses for spraying his plating with solvent so he slams his outer vents shut and switches the cockpit to internally filtered ventilation. Felix doesn’t need to be breathing in whatever the hell shit they use to dissolve the alien viscera off of his hull. He turns the heat up in the cockpit after checking the infrared again. The cold wash of solvent courses over his plating and obscures his external sensor net so Vortex turns his attention back to Felix. 

Idiot still didn’t wake up even with Vortex actively playing piano on his brain strings. He displays that thought on his cockpit readout along with several more choice thoughts about Felix’s parentage and character. Still sleeping. 

Which is- it’s- Vortex is surprisingly fine with it. Felix might be dumb, and naive, and far too willing to let Vortex into his shit and a shit pilot on top of all that; but he’s Vortex’s dumb, naive and shit pilot.  If he wants to sleep off whatever Pharma pumped him full of inside Vortex’s cockpit, fine. Vortex will pressurize the hydraulics and drop the locking pins and keep him there until his Felix is crying to be let out. 

Then he's going to kill that motherfucker Pharma.

anon. ANON WHOEVER YOU ARE LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND AND HUG YOU. WRITING THIS ABSOLUTE BANGER OF A TEXAID AND SENDING IN ANONYMOUSLY?? THATS SOME KIND OF FANFIC VERSION OF SECRET IDENTITY SUPERHERO BULLSHIT RIGHT HERE /pos

I LOVE IT. I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE ITTTTT YOU WROTE THEM SO GOOD ITS FKKGMGNGMGMGMGMG IM BREWING YOUR COFFEE WITH MY MIND

Previous Next

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Out in the Open

Law x reader (she/her) ft. Heart Pirates

Part of the Polar Tang Chronicles but can be read as a standalone! (They're all just various one-shots featuring the Reader, Law, and the Heart Pirates)

Summary: Your crew discovered that you and Law are closer than you seemed when the two of you stumbled out disheveled of his quarters one morning due to the ship’s alarm. After the battle, Law left, leaving you to endure the crew’s relentless teasing—which eventually escalated a bit too far.

Tags: suggestive, obvious mentions of sex (but no smut), nudity, hickies mentioned, swearing, teasing, kinda crack, a bit angsty

Words: 5.6k

Notes: I had a lot of fun writing that one! I considered using it for a longer fanfic, but the one I’m currently working on (which will take a while to complete) doesn’t quite match this vibe. Still, I’m thinking about doing more one-shots with this kind of atmosphere—just some daily life moments with Reader, Law, and the Heart Pirates. I already have outlines for two: one where Penguin and Shachi accidentally walk in on Reader and Law, and another where Reader gets tipsy with Ikakku (I'm more than open to your suggestions)

English is not my first language

Masterlist

You woke up, nestled under the covers and enjoying a morning of quiet bliss. You snuggled closer to the warm body next to you. Law. 

“Morning,” he rasped, kissing your collarbone tenderly.

You hummed happily in response, exposing your neck to him, and he quickly took advantage and started putting his lips all over it. His hands moved to explore your naked skin slowly. You tilted your head to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. You both made out lazily, taking your time to relish one another. Soon the room was filled with the sounds of quiet moans and sighs, passion building with every touch. Lost in the sensations, you were completely oblivious to the world outside your small haven. 

Then, the sudden blaring of the alarm shattered the peaceful atmosphere like glass. You both jolted upright, the reality of the situation crashing down on you like a bucket of cold water. The moment of intimacy was gone, replaced by an urgent need to spring into action.

You and Law hurried out of the captain's lodgings, your attires randomly assembled of whatever clothes had been within reach. You couldn't take the time to look presentable; the ship's alarm was a call to action, and you had to respond quickly. 

As you stepped into the hallway, Law's expression was grim; his mind already focused on the impending danger. You took your eyes from him, and you regretted it immediately as you found yourself face to face with a few of the crew members. Their gazes flicked between Law and you, taking in your disheveled state, and a murmur of surprise and recognition rippled through the group. 

Law clenched his jaw, cursing silently as he realized your secret was out. With a stern glare, he stepped forward, taking charge of the situation. “Alright, listen up! We don't have time to waste ogling. We've got a dangerous situation on our hands, and we need to spring into action now.”

Law's voice cut through the commotion, commanding and resolute, as he issued orders to prepare for battle. The air was charged with urgency as the submarine broke the surface, and without hesitation, you leapt onto the deck alongside your crewmates.

As the ships closed in, the sounds of battle began to swell. The creak of wood, the sharp clang of blades, and the guttural cries of the enemy pirates filled the air. They swarmed over the rails, swords, and other weapons gleaming as they poured onto the deck.

Law stood at the helm, calm and focused, his stern gaze tracking every movement below. You stood beside him, gripping your weapon tightly, a determined edge in your eyes. For a brief moment, his eyes flicked to yours.

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

With that, you plunged into the chaos.

The Heart Pirates fought with fierce determination, refusing to give an inch to the invaders. Swords clashed, bodies collided, and the deck became a storm of violence. Law, as always, took the lead, enforcing his Devil Fruit power and cutting through the most dangerous foes with a precision that left no room for error.

By the time the battle ended, the enemy was in full retreat, their ship disappearing over the horizon. Slowly, the tension on the deck eased, and cheers broke out. The crew’s voices rose together, celebrating their victory as they let the weight of the battle fall away.

“You okay?” Law asked softly, standing next to you.

“Yeah,” you replied, a weary smile curving on your lips. “You?”

“I'm…  fine,” He reached out a hand, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You fought well,” he murmured quietly, his eyes searching yours. 

Law suddenly became aware of the crew's gazes, noticing the smirks and winks they were shooting in your direction. He shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing a subtle shade of pink. He quickly stood back to address the crew.

“Alright, everyone. You did well,” Law said, his voice firm and commanding once more. “Let's get this mess cleaned up, and everyone back to their duties.” And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

You were used to the attention and the rumors that swirled about Law and you, but being caught in a compromising position earlier still made you feel awkward and exposed. You felt a pang of irritation at Law's sudden departure. You understood his need for privacy, but it still stung a little that he had left you there to deal with the crew's prodding alone.

“So... how do you feel about the captain?” Shachi asked with a smirk. 

“That he is being an ass,” you muttered angrily, starting to clean up, hoping it would allow you to leave soon.

The crewmates snickered at your insult.

“Damn,” Penguin remarked with a grin. “It's the first time I've heard someone call the captain an ass and live to tell the tale.”

“I guess being the captain’s lover has its perks. You can get away with more than most.”

You bristled at that comment. Law was a strict captain, and you knew that others respected him. Being able to call him an 'ass' and getting away with it did feel satisfying, but you certainly didn’t appreciate the implication that whatever you had with Law granted you special privileges.

You felt exhausted, and you didn't have the energy to argue with them. Instead, you let out a weary sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as you snapped back at the crew member who had spoken. “Can you just shut up and do your job?” You felt hot and embarrassed as you unzipped your hoodie a bit, looking around to busy yourself with something. 

The crew members snickered at your response, clearly enjoying the chance to tease even more. 

“Oh, is that something you told the captain this morning, too?” someone jibed,

Your frustration boiled to the surface. “You guys suck,”

But as soon as the words left your mouth, Penguin quipped back, “Not as good as the captain on your neck this morning.”

You froze, your eyes widening in shock, and your hand instinctively reached up to touch your neck, where Law had indeed spent a lot of time just this morning. You hadn't even had a chance to look in the mirror yet, and now you realize that unzipping your hoodie, or actually Law hoodie, which you noted with a mental curse now, was a wrong move.

Ikkaku cast you a sympathetic glance. “Yeah, we can see those hickies,” she noted with a wry smile.

Shachi immediately added. “We would have to be damn blind not to notice them.”

Penguin grinned cheekily and chimed in. “Who knew Captain was such a sucker,” 

The crew members continued their teasing, their jokes, and comments, escalating with every word. You felt as if you were drowning in a sea of ribbing, and you just couldn't take it any longer. You spun around and stalked away, leaving the laughing crew behind.

As you stormed off, you overheard a puzzled Bepo comment, “I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of this. She's been staying with the captain for months now.”

The crew's confusion only seemed to grow, and the explanation fell into a series of muttered exchanges.

“What?!”

“You didn't know that?” 

“None of us did!”

You sought sanctuary in your and Ikkaku's room, isolating yourself from the rest of the crew for the remainder of the day. Various crew members came by, attempting to apologize through the door, but you refused to speak to anyone but Ikkaku.

You heard their voices through the door, their tones ranging from apologetic to pleading. 

“Oh, come on, we were just teasing.” 

“We're happy for you, really.” 

“Come out, will you?” 

“We're sorry, okay?”

You were not the only one avoiding everyone. Law was also absent, and nobody managed to catch a glimpse of him. The crew was left wondering how to mend the situation, and after a while, they came to a consensus. Someone needed to speak to Law and try to smooth things over.

And that's how Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin, Law's longest serving crewmates, and closest friends, found themselves standing outside his room. Summoning his courage, Bepo finally raised a trembling paw and struck the door with a soft, tentative knock.

There was a pause before Law's voice echoed through, a grumpy and dismissive, “I'm busy.”

The trio exchanged nervous glances, their resolve faltering for only a moment before Bepo mustered his courage once more. “We need to talk to you, Captain. It's important.”

Another moment of silence followed, and then they heard Law's resigned grunt. “Fine. Come in.”

They pushed open the door cautiously, their gazes darting nervously around the room. Law leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in mild irritation. “Everything alright?”

Penguin spoke up hesitantly. “No, not really,” he began. “I mean, the ship is fine, and we're not being attacked, but there's something else…”

“What? Just say it.”

Shachi rolled his eyes. “Come on, Captain, we need to talk about what happened this morning.”

Law immediately rejected the notion. “No, we don't,” he said, his shoulders tensing, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, we do, and you're gonna listen to us.” Undeterred by Law's expression, he continued, “You shouldn't have just left her alone with us after a fight.”

Law remained impassive, his voice cool and matter-of-fact. “I had to take care of something, and I didn't think I was needed there,” he reiterated. “You guys were supposed to clean, and I had other matters to attend to.”

Penguin chimed in, his expression slightly sheepish. “Yeah, you were…You left after we all knew what happened in the morning, so of course we turned to her…We teased her, and I guess we took it a bit too far.”

Law clenched his jaw, his annoyance growing with each passing second. He didn't need a lecture on how to handle his life, and he definitely didn't appreciate his crew sticking their noses in his business.

But the trio wasn't finished yet. Bepo's worried gaze met Law's, his tone earnest as he added, “She didn't take it well, Captain. She locked herself in her room.”

Law's voice remained steady, feigning indifference as he asked, “So you want me to punish her for skipping out on her chores?”

Gasps of disbelief erupted from the trio.

“What, no!” Shachi barked. “Are you insane?”

“Yeah! What is wrong with you?” Penguin added, his tone incredulous.

Bepo took a deep breath, trying to reason. “You need to talk to her, Captain. And to us—your crew.”

Law's reply was curt and final. “It’s a private matter.”

Penguin wasn’t having it. “No, it’s not. Not anymore. But the crew’s okay with that—we’ve talked about it.”

Shachi nodded, his tone firm. “More than fine with it. We know you’ve been worried about what we’d think. But here’s the thing: we’re happy.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimed in. “You’ve been dancing around each other for too long.”

“And honestly? It was getting annoying,” Shachi added.

Bepo’s voice softened, but his words carried weight. “We want you to know we support you, Captain.”

Law blinked, their bluntness catching him off guard. Despite their sincerity, he still hesitated. “Is that so?”

The trio nodded in unison, their expressions hopeful.

Shachi stepped forward, crossing his arms as he locked eyes with Law. “Well, it needed to be said,” he stated firmly. “We know how you are, Captain. You could sit here for weeks if we let you. But we can’t let her suffer any longer.”

Law repeated, almost incredulously, “Suffer?”

Shachi shrugged apologetically. “We couldn’t speak to her personally,” he admitted, glancing toward the others. “But Ikkaku told us she’s obviously humiliated��not just by us, but by you, too.”

“You just left her there,” Penguin added, his tone tinged with guilt as he stepped closer. “And you haven’t spoken to her since. She thinks you’re ashamed of—”

“Of course I’m ashamed,” Law interrupted sharply, sitting forward as his jaw tightened. “That should have never happened. You shouldn’t have seen us like that.” His tone was clipped, frustration dominating his words as he averted his gaze.

Penguin picked up his sentence. “No, she thinks you are ashamed of her,” he clarified, his voice trailing off awkwardly.

Shachi frowned, his usually lighthearted expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “Ikkaku said she thinks she was forcing herself on you. That you only gave in because you were lonely,” he explained, his voice lowering. “And now everyone knows, and she feels embarrassed and pitiful.”

Law’s chair scraped slightly as he pushed back, his voice rising in outrage. “What? That’s absurd!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. His clenched fists rested on the armrests, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain his mounting exasperation.  The thought of you feeling that way—that you thought he was ashamed of you—sent a sharp pang through his chest.

“Yeah, we figured as much,” Penguin said, cutting through the tension. “But she doesn’t know that, Captain. You need to remind her she’s more than that.”

Shachi leaned forward, his tone pressing yet sincere. “She is more, right, Captain?”

Bepo’s soft, worried voice followed, his eyes searching Law’s face. “You did tell her, didn’t you? That she’s more?”

The room fell deathly quiet, the three of them staring at Law, waiting for a response. He sat frozen, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions he couldn’t quite organize. A subtle tremor ran through his hand as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

Shachi's voice cut through the silence, his tone firm and insistent. “You're awful,” he said bluntly. “You need to tell her.” 

“I can't,” Law said, looking away.

“Why not?”

Law’s lips parted, and for a moment, he hesitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but raw, laced with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Because... I can’t lose her.”

The words lingered in the air, a heavy confession that seemed to sap the strength from him. His crewmates stood still, the weight of the admission sinking in. They had known Law for years, long enough to understand the fear buried beneath his stoic exterior. This wasn’t just about pride or embarrassment. This was about the scars of loss he carried, the pain he feared reliving.

After a brief pause, Penguin spoke up. “Well, we can't promise you that,” he stated, his words heavy with the acknowledgment of the uncertainty of the future.

Shachi nodded, his expression softening. “But she doesn’t want to leave you, Captain. That much we’re sure of.”

Bepo added, his voice solemn yet earnest, “And besides, she always says that life is a fucking nightmare, full of pain, and that you never know when you're going to die, so you should cling to every single small moment of happiness.”

Shachi and Penguin turned to Bepo, their mouths falling open in shock. Penguin gawked at him. “Wow, Bepo,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I’ve known you forever, but I’ve never heard you swear.”

Bepo’s face flushed under the sudden attention. “I was quoting!” he stammered, his ears flicking nervously. “The point is, if you won’t listen to us, maybe you should listen to her. You deserve some happiness too, Captain,” he finished, his eyes locking with Law’s.

Law's expression eased as he heard Bepo's words. The crew's support, combined with the reminder that your wisdom echoed their sentiment, struck a chord within him. He couldn't deny the truth in their words, even if fear still held him back.

The silence stretched once more, thick with emotion. Finally, Penguin broke it hesitantly. “Um, Captain?”

Law straightened, his usual composure returning. “There will be an obligatory meeting in two hours,” he said, his voice firm and commanding once more.

Bepo tilted his head, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “Everyone?” he asked tentatively, unsure if Law meant to include you.

Law’s reply was curt and resolute. “Yes. Everyone. Now go.”

The crew spread the word about the meeting, making their way to the girls' dormitory. Shachi rapped on the door, and moments later, Ikkaku appeared, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“The Captain called for an obligatory meeting,” Shachi informed her. “Everyone needs to attend.” He craned his neck slightly, calling out into the room, “That means you too.”

From within, your voice drifted toward them, muffled but tinged with resignation. “Yeah, yeah, I figured.”

Ikkaku gave a short nod and closed the door with a soft click. Turning toward you, she crossed her arms and regarded you thoughtfully. “You should shower first,” she suggested gently.

Sprawled across your bed, you rolled your eyes, a wry smirk tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Ikka,” you quipped with playful sarcasm. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Despite the jest, a flicker of vulnerability lingered in your eyes, betraying the weight of the upcoming meeting and the emotional turmoil still churning beneath the surface.

Taking Ikkaku’s advice, you trudged to the bathroom and showered, the hot water doing little to wash away your apprehension. When you returned to the room, your skin still damp and your hair wet, you began to change.

You couldn't help but notice Ikkaku’s gaze lingering on you. Sharing a room—and a shower room—meant you were no stranger to Ikkaku’s teasing observations, but this time, her stare felt particularly pointed.

You raised an eyebrow, turning to face her. “Okay, I know you’ve said my boobs are awesome, but the staring’s a bit much, don’t you think?” you remarked, your voice dripping with sass as you shot her a look.

Unfazed, Ikkaku smirked, leaning back against the wall with casual ease. “Sorry,” she said, her tone laced with amusement. “I was just curious to see how far those hickeys go.”

You froze, the memories of your night—and morning—with Law surfaced unbidden, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“Don’t you have something better to do than ogling me?” you shot back, your voice flustered but defiant as you busied yourself with brushing your hair.

Ikkaku’s grin widened as she shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really,” she admitted. “Besides, your face right now? Totally worth it.”

Slowly, with reluctant resolve, you pulled away the towel, letting it fall to the side. The marks Law had left on your skin—bold, unmistakable—were now fully exposed. Ikkaku’s grin widened, her eyes shamelessly scanning the array of hickeys decorating your breasts and stomach.

“Wow,” she remarked with a teasing lilt, humor sparkling in her gaze. “Someone likes to sign their work.”

Despite the wave of mortification, a small smirk crept to your lips. There was something strangely endearing about her playful commentary, even if it only added to your flustered state.

You turned away and began dressing, methodically slipping on your bra before pulling a tank top over your head and following it with your uniform. Your movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as though each action was part of a ritual to compose yourself. Hands trembling slightly, you reached for the zipper of your uniform and drew it up all the way to your neck—a rare act of modesty for you.

With the uniform now in place, you grabbed a bottle of concealer from the desk and leaned toward the small mirror affixed to the wall. Your eyes narrowed in concentration as you dabbed and blended the makeup over the hickeys that still were visible on your neck, working meticulously to erase any evidence of your time with Law. 

Behind you, Ikkaku’s grin remained fixed. Her gaze was both amused and curious as she watched you work. “So, is he good?” she asked bluntly.

The question caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise as you glanced at her through the mirror. “Oh, come on,” she added before you could respond, rolling her eyes dramatically. “We’ve been pretending I didn’t know for months. At least give me something.”

A groan escaped you as you turned to face her, the reluctance plain in your posture. Yet, under her persistent gaze, you relented. “Fine, he’s… amazing,” you admitted, your voice softening. “I know, I know—you’ll say I’m biased, but he really is. Or it really is,” you added, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips as the memory resurfaced. “I never knew sex could be that good.”

Your cheeks flushed anew as the words left your lips, the vivid recollection making it impossible to hide your emotions. Ikkaku raised a brow, her interest clearly piqued by your admission.

“You’ve had sex with other people before, though,” she pointed out, her voice tinged with curiosity.

You nodded, your expression turning thoughtful. “Yeah, and it was nothing compared to that.”

Ikkaku tilted her head slightly, a flicker of contemplation crossing her face before she spoke again. “It was good, or good because it was him?” 

Your breath hitched slightly at her question, the double meaning not lost on you. The intensity of your feelings threatened to bubble to the surface, but you kept your composure. After a brief pause, you answered. “Both,” you confessed, the honesty in your words both exhilarating and terrifying. “It was good, and it was good because it was him.”

“Well, I’m glad for you.”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly, your smile fading. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter now.”

“Why not?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Because, obviously, it won’t be happening anymore,” you replied flatly, your tone resigned, though a flicker of sadness betrayed you.

“You can’t know that.”

You scoffed, shooting her a skeptical look. “Oh, I think I know,” you muttered, the bitterness of your words undercut by the vulnerability in your eyes.

“No,” she said again. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

A lump formed in your throat as her words lingered in the air. You tried to brush them off, letting out a heavy sigh. “I… Let’s just get to this meeting,” you murmured, the finality in your tone signaling an end to the conversation.

Law arrived, his commanding presence as steady as ever, and began by addressing the crew in his usual manner. He outlined the agenda for their imminent arrival on the island, detailing their expected conduct and assigning responsibilities with precise efficiency.

Despite the focus on practical matters, an undercurrent of tension lingers in the air. You sat among the crew, listening with a stoic expression, but your mind reeled with the weight of recent events. The words spoken seem distant, their meanings muted by the emotional turmoil swirling within you. Law’s voice remained firm and unyielding, yet there was a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes each time his gaze landed on you.

After finishing the official agenda, Law cleared his throat, his posture shifting slightly. “There’s another matter we need to discuss,” he stated.

Your body tensed as the weight of his announcement settled over the room. The earlier incident—he’s going to talk about it. Your pulse quickened, the anticipation prickling your skin as you wondered what he'd say and how it would alter the fragile balance you felt.

As the eyes of your crewmates subtly shifted toward you, the sensation of being exposed made you want to disappear. Their curiosity, though unspoken, was palpable. Only Law refrained from looking your way, his avoidance making you wonder if it’s deliberate.

Finally, he spoke, “I was informed by Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin that there are no objections to this… relationship.” His pause is brief but meaningful, the word relationship hanging in the air. For a moment, he looked at you before continuing. “Is that correct?”

The crew’s response was instantaneous and resounding.

“Not at all!”

“We’re all happy for you!”

“It should have happened sooner!”

“We’re more than fine with it!”

You leaned closer to Ikkaku and whispered. “Did he just say relationship, or am I delusional?”

Ikkaku chuckled softly. “You heard him right,” she confirmed.

The reality of the moment began to sink in, the word relationship replaying in your mind. It felt surreal to hear Law speak of your connection so openly. Your heart fluttered, caught between happiness and nervousness as you processed this unexpected declaration.

Relationship. Did he just make it official—without asking you first? You’d expect irritation, but instead, you felt a surprising sense of ease. When his gaze met yours again, a flicker of nervousness in his expression, you offered him a small smile and nod. His shoulders relaxed, and a faint, fleeting smile crossed his face before he regained his usual composure.

Law’s commanding voice broke the moment. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, addressing the crew. “Don’t go overboard with it. If any concerns arise, come to me directly.”

He paused, then added with authority, “This is a private matter, and it will remain that way. Don’t get too curious, and no discussions about it outside this ship. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. You joined them in silent acknowledgment, feeling a wave of relief at the boundaries Law set.

With a touch of humor, he continued, “I’d also like to forbid all talks on the ship, but I don’t believe in miracles.”

The crew erupted in light laughter, the mood easing slightly with his words. 

“Now, I’ve heard that instead of focusing on cleaning as I directed, some of you were too busy gossiping and fooling around. As punishment, everyone will be cleaning the storage room.”

A collective groan rose from the crew, though none dared protest. Law had chosen this task deliberately, knowing it needed to be done and that no one would volunteer.

Once the commotion died down, Law turned to you. His tone remained firm and impartial. “Besides you. But for missing work earlier, you’ll take an extra shift cleaning the kitchen.”

Cleaning the kitchen was your least favorite task, and everyone on the ship knew it. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to feel resentment. Law was fair; everyone else faced consequences for missed duties, and he was showing you no favoritism. The consistency in his decisions left you feeling unexpectedly grateful.

With the meeting concluded, Law’s voice rang out one final directive. “That’s all. Everyone, return to your tasks.”

Usually, he would leave immediately, but this time, he lingered. His gaze scanned the room, ensuring no one had the chance to approach you as the crew dispersed.

As you turned to leave, you felt the light pressure of a hand on your shoulder. Startled, you glanced back to find Law standing close. His voice dropped to a quiet murmur, just for you. “Come to me when you’re done. We need to talk.”

You arrived at Law's door later, your heart beating slightly faster in anticipation of the conversation ahead. Knocking gently, you heard his voice inviting you in. You entered the room and took your usual seat across from him, settling into the chair as you took a moment to compose yourself.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you said, referring to Law’s earlier declaration at the meeting.

Law smiled softly, a rare expression reserved just for you. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner,” he replied apologetically. He paused before asking, “Are you okay with it?”

Your heart raced at his apology, the words sending a flutter through your chest. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your thoughts and responded, “I’m… surprised.” You paused for a moment, mustering the courage to voice your true feelings. “But… yes, I’m okay with it. More than okay.”

Law’s eyes locked onto yours, and you could see that your words calmed him. Your words—more than okay—settled the doubts that had crept into his mind. He let out a small sigh, the tension leaving his body.

Switching to a lighthearted tone, you added with a playful pout, “I’m still a little mad, you know. For leaving me there like that.”

Law’s response was matter-of-fact, his voice composed. “I know. I didn’t do it intentionally. I just didn’t see the point of sticking around.” There was a hint of nonchalance as he added, “I got injured a bit during the battle—didn’t want anyone making a fuss over me.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, anger, and concern flooding you. “Law!”

He chuckled lightly, his tone soothing as he hastened to reassure you. “I’m fine, I am. I swear.”

Crossing your arms, you murmured, “You better be.” Sighing in exasperation, you scolded him. “You should’ve told me.”

“You weren’t visiting me…”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to…”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Law studied your face, the truth behind your statement hitting him. He realized how his actions might have led you to that conclusion, and guilt welled up inside him. His voice was quiet as he replied, “You were wrong.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

Law sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. “I should’ve been clearer,” he admitted, his tone tinged with regret. “I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.” He paused, considering his next words. “I didn’t want anyone fussing over me, especially not you. I didn’t want you to worry…” 

“You can’t just avoid everyone when you’re injured. Especially not me. I… I care about you, you know that.”

“I know, I know,” he conceded, “I just… I didn’t want to be a burden. And it wasn’t anything serious.”

“You’re not a burden. You could never be a burden to me.” Leaning forward, you held his gaze. “Even if it wasn’t serious, you should’ve told me.”

“I probably would’ve told you if you’d visited me. You know, I usually tell you everything. If you’d come to check on me, I would’ve spoken up eventually.”

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” you said, though there was no real anger in your voice.  You sighed. “You shouldn’t have left me there with the crew after they found out about us. I… I thought you were ashamed of me, that I was just some dirty little secret…”

“No. I’m not ashamed of you, not at all.” Meeting your gaze, he continued firmly, “You’re more than that. You’re…” He faltered, struggling with the words he wasn’t used to saying.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Seeing his struggle, you gently reassured him. “I suppose that means we’re official now, huh?” you asked, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“I suppose we are,” he replied, a tender edge in his voice. “I hope you’re still comfortable with that.”

“Of course I am. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Law's heart felt lighter at your words. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear you say that. “Good,” he said simply, a rare smile playing on his lips. “Because I have too.” Law's smile softened, and a more somber expression settled on his face. “It's… it's not going to be easy,” he admitted quietly. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, your expression serious as well. You understood the challenges that came with a relationship, especially in your unconventional circumstances. “I know,”

“I'm not… going to be easy.”

You reached out and gently laid your hand on top of his on the desk. “I know that too.” You laced your fingers with his, stroking his thumb softly. “Law, I'm not going into this blindly. I… I'm just as scared as you are.”

As Law started to object, you stopped him with a determined look. “No, don't give me that look. You're emotionally challenged, and we live in a shitty world. Of course, you're scared. So am I.”

Law fell silent, his eyes locking onto yours as he absorbed your words. He hadn't expected you to acknowledge his fears so bluntly—most people just assumed he didn't have any. Yet here you were, acknowledging them and admitting to sharing similar feelings. “You're incredible, you know that?” he murmured.

Your lips curled into a small, wry smile. You were flattered by his words, but you also knew him well enough to see the lingering hint of disbelief in his eyes. “I have my moments,” you replied lightly, your tone filled with a hint of humor. “But I mean what I said. I know this won't be easy, and I'm scared too. But… I want this. With you.”

“I am a broken man,” he confessed, his tone filled with an undercurrent of regret and a hint of shame.

Your gaze didn't waver.  “And I won't fix you,” you said quietly. “And I am a broken woman, and you won't fix me either. But… maybe,” your voice softened. “Maybe… the broken pieces… just fit together, you know?”

Law's breath hitched in his throat at your words. He felt the truth of your statement deep within, a part of him yearning to believe it. But his logical mind reminded him of the harsh realities of your lives. Yet, something about your words, your touch, made him want to believe it all the same. “Broken pieces…” he mused quietly, a hint of both longing and skepticism in his voice.

“Yes, broken pieces,” you reiterate gently. “Sometimes, the unique things are created from broken pieces that just… fit.”

Law's gaze flicked down to your joined hands, the sight of your touch against his skin grounding him. He took a slow, deep breath, your words sinking into his heart, chipping away at his usual skepticism. “Maybe you're right,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a faint hint of wonder. “Maybe… maybe the broken pieces do fit together in ways that make something… significant.”

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Could I request NSFW of Jazz, Armada Starscream, TFP Knockout or Rodimus/Hot Rod being curious about a female reader with a bigger chest? You can pick any I just wanna let you choose whichever seems more interesting! 🩷🩷🩷

I see so many poste about them liking readers being soft, but never really about breasts, I assumed they'd find the softness fascinating.

Count how many times I wrote the word breast:

I went with Jazz and Hot Rod. N/$/4/W. Nothing too explicit, Hot Rods less so. Also No beta. Had fun writing this.

Jazz:

Humans were rather squishy compared to Cybertronians. One grip too hard and squish. Flesh would give under the slightest of pressure, with some resistance to the boney areas. It was still nothing compared to his own metal plating.

Jazz was observant, and through that observation he learned some things about humans. They, like cyebrtronains, came in many shapes sizes and colors. But some of them had round and bouncy somethings on their chests. He assumed it was just their own bit of kibble, just some extra bits. These too, came in various sizes and shapes.

But not like yours.

Jazz couldn't stop himself from starring. How could he not? Every step you took, turn, and even when you laughed, they would bounce. He liked to make you laugh, but now he had more motivation to crack jokes around you. He liked to stare, and you knew he liked to stare. You made it more interesting for him to stare.

Playing with the collar of your shirt, or wearing low cut blouses. He wasn't sure why, but the hot summer day you ran an icecube over you neck and cleavage has his own system over heating. Had to go drive and get some steam out after that.

When fate, or luck, or maybe mutual interest finally got you alone, he got to finally see them uncovered. A bit too eager to take his time, Jazz peels your shirt away with careful servos. Didn't want to rip it, you already threatened to kick his aft if that happened.

the shirt comes off and he is gawking. The curve, the swell, the peak. the way they sat so differently now that you werent wearing anything. He takes a moment to just marvel at them while you lean back on your hands. Jazz could only think of one thing to do with them.

Such pretty sounds came out of your mouth when he put his mouth around one. Mesh glossa flickering over the hardened nipple as you arch and put a hand on his helm. He could do this all day. A servo on one of your tits, the other in his mouth. they really are soft, softer than he expected and it makes him moan around the flesh. When he takes the stiff nipple between his denta, you whine and warn him not to bite.

"Oh don't worry sweet-spark, when I bite, you'll like it." Not iff, when. He could already picture how it would feel to carefully leave his mark. Maybe your thigh, or hip. He wouldn't dream of bruising your beautiful tits.

With a pop, he switches over to the other, Lubricant coating your flesh. Jazz hums in appreciation seeing your grab and play with them yourself. He pulls back, watching, wondering. Could he rut his spike between them?

Hot Rod:

He was taking advantage of the situation, that much you were VERY aware of. It was cold, you were even colder without a jacket, and Hot Rod was very, very warm. All of the bots were, but he was especially so. You hadn't planned on being in the snow without a jacket, and Prime was apologizing profusely when he got you back to base.

Shivering, teeth chattering, you assured the Leader that it was perfectly fine. Hot Rod volunteers to warm you up, and now you were sat in his lap, one servo holding you against his chassis. You sunk back against him, soaking in that warmth when you noticed it the first time. The subtle brush of his digit against your chest. Just his servo flexing, you told yourself. Then it happened again.

He must have thought he was being subtle, not thinking about how his size makes it far from subtle for you, but he was coping a feel. You shake your head. No no... He was curious, hadn't had a lot of time with humans. he was curious.

The edge of his thumb brushes downward, pausing when he feels you nipples poking through the shirt. You should say something. Another soft press. You might want to say something. It's awkward, but the tip of his middle digit is circling one of your nipples. You should really say something if you want this to stop.

The Mech keeps poking and subtly squeezing your chest, getting a little bolder by your lack of response. You could feel your cheeks go warm when he started pushing your breasts up before letting them drop. Even leaning over you to watch them bounce. You want to say something, but Hot Rod chuckles, watching and you don't have the heart. You bite your lip and try to tell yourself it doesn't feel nice.

"What are these?" He asks, putting both massive hands around you. There is a digit on each breast, massaging them. It feels kind of nice, but you gotta stop this, he doesn't understand.

"Hot Rod-" You put a hand over his digits that push and squeeze your chest. He doesn't seem to realize your trying to stop the movement. It's gentle so it doesn't hurt. It feels nice, "These are breasts and you really shouldn't do that.

"Do what?" The massive bot curls over you more, and the heat intensifies.

"Touch them." You breath hitches as he some how manages to pinch the nipples delicately enough to not hurt them. Again, and your jerk with a whimper.

His touch pauses, optics flash and cooling fan clicks on, "Oh?"

Hot Rod keeps you pressed against him, but doesn't move. You're squirming from embarrassment and a heat in your core. Overly warm, craving it and wanting this awkwardness to stop.

"Can I see them?"

Oh this got so much more embarrassing.

"What?"

"You humans cover yourselves right?" He fingers the collar of your shirt, unintentionally making your head tip back, "Can I see them? I noticed yours are bigger than others."

"Some bots have bigger chests." You retort, shivering as his digit keeps pulling down at your collar.

"We don't cover up." His other digit runs over your nipple again. "Whats this?"

"If I show you will you drop it?"

Hot Rod pulls his servos away, still hovering near you. a smile on his face plates as he nods. He is way to eager for this. way too eager for how... innocent he seems about this.

You grumble to yourself before reaching for the edge of your shirt, glancing around. No one else was in here. You hope it stays that way. In one quick swoop, you pull the shirt off. Damnit, should have worn a cute bra today. Why do you care? It's a robot? This was just an old bra that was slightly too small.

Hot Rod makes a noise that may have been cooing. "More coverings?"

"Yeah.... I need it."

"Why?" He rubs a bra strap, trying to get it off your shoulder. He tsks when you smack his digit before reaching behind yourself to unhook it. He makes that noise again when your tits spill out. He is quick to touch again, cupping them with his thumbs.

"Hey! You said See!"

He makes a pouting face, still gently pressing. "Hey, not my fault they're even softer than the rest of you. Too tempting."

His metal was hot on your skin. Were you warm from him, or..

"You... you should stop." You hands rest on the junction that would be his wrist.

"Why?" Hot Rod asks, curling more, leaning close. Caging you in. "Because you like it?"

You can't respond with more than another whimper. Oh he was completely aware, huh?

Hot Rod smiles, happy to keep using you like a stress ball. Cooing and squeezing. Trying to see how else he could get those little sounds out of you.

[robolvrr]

attention-seeker ミ⁠●﹏

transformers reactions to human modifications. (tattoos, piercings, hair-dye.) headcanons!

optimus prime, bumblebee, prowl. tfa.

sfw / suggestive under cut.

may do more of them, i love this show to death.

optimus prime

"you do this stuff... for fun? huh."

try as he might, he does not understand the point much.

don't get me wrong, i see animated optimus to be the closest to a mid-twenties rascal as you can get. modifications aren't unheard of for bots. he's not a nun.

however ...

he sees humans as still pretty fragile. so the idea that you like going and having needles shoved into your flesh and jammed through your muscle isn't something he can wrap his helm around at first.

primus forbid you have lots.

imagine him trying to process you explaining that yes, your entire back is covered in ink and you're planning on about five different piercings in the next year.

"so you. you plan on getting two on your back. just because?"

"that's the plan, big guy."

poor mech is lost. though he does enjoy learning more about humanity when he isn't stressing too much about saving it.. so expect questions.

when you suggest getting one of the autobot emblem, his circuits nearly fry.

prowl

"so, what's the significance?"

i see prowl not writing off the behavior as weird and instead digging for why you pursued this journey.

yes, he sees your tattoo and piercing collection as a journey, because that's what it is, isn't it? years of work and pain to adorn your body to your liking.

he knows that humans are bundled with nerves. there's respect earned. he finds humans to be eerily resilient.

will ask you the meaning of each and every one. piercings less so.

"what does this bird represent?"

"mm.. my sense of liberty."

"a visual representation of the wish to stretch to new horizons. how fascinating. being small in a vast universe with the urge to still explore."

"i also just like hummingbirds."

"mm. i see."

will get onto you once he finds out about the "makeshift" work. finds the mistakes or even forgettable craftsmanship to make you endearing.

bumblebee

"whoa! sick paintjob, human!"

he LOVES human culture. and you guys can just... change your appearance? count him impressed!

you had dyed your hair to a nice golden yellow to match his frame and he almost jammed his intake shut.

"you can just. do that?!? b-but your helm used to be-"

"hair, bee."

"right, right. it wasn't always that color though!!!"

he thinks it's so cool. real dork about it. totally buzzed out once you spoke about the chemistry that it went to the process though.

he thinks piercings are cute. after all the fusion of metal and organic is kiiind of taboo. you pull it off great.

tattoos make him beg ratchet to let him upgrade his paint. poor old mech is grumpy and over bumble whining him to just let him "get some flames and that's it."

you draw a lot of inspiration from him. will gladly brainstorm your next big change and puff his chassis out like a lil peacock knowing you're willing to get something permanent done in his designation.

nsfw.

optimus prime

"you look like a painting. primus above, you're gorgeous..."

optimus prime enjoys tracing your tats. he kisses the patterns and images as if the pain of the needle remains, glossa licking along thick and thin ink with shuttered optics.

he likes to see goosebumps trail after. kind of a weird fetish (?) but he mostly enjoys how reactive you are and how your inkwork ripples with the movement.

when he finds out your piercings can make you sensitive ...

well, good luck.

optimus at his spark of sparks is such a tease. when you continue to surprise him, it's nice to be in control of that mutual fascination for once.

"you enjoy when i tug.. these?"

nipple piercings.

expect his glossa. he takes special care to even lubricate each of his digits just to toy with your sore nipples.

prowl

"that's it. fall apart for me. just like art..."

prowl is observant. so when you let it slip that you've been holding back on some of what's on your body...

you're on his berth and naked. his optics are hidden behind his sharp visor.

"holding back on me? that's a shame. i thought you knew better than to do that."

is he angry? hardly! but his processor is about to work overtime when you stammer just why you hadn't gone into depth.

genital piercings.

he doesn't say anything for a long time. doesn't ask the millions of questions bombarding his thoughts. his servos do that speaking before he can.

let's just say you start to understand why he deals with tedious and delicate situations. those hands are built for... meticulous attention.

bites. all the areas with piercings. focuses carefully damn near to the square inch of sensitive flesh where it drives you wild.

tattoos? he loves to scrape his digits down em.

loves to doll you up in lingerie that accentuates everything you hide. crotchless, cut-outs exposing yourself until he can't see where the inkwork begins and ends.

robolvrr 2024.

[revelboo]

LOSING! MY! SHIT! REVEL THE REAPER OF SOULS, CROWS IN A COAT, CRYPTID OF OUR TRANSFORMERS DREAMS, HOLY SHIIIIIT! Everything is Alright is so ✨️✨️✨️✨️💙💙💙✨️✨️✨️✨️💙💙💙💙💪💪🎉🎉🎉💙💙✨️✨️✨️ ITS DELIGHTFUL AND IT KEEPS ME ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT AND I HAVE LOVED SEEING THE TURNS OF EVENTS SO MUCH

Thank you! I have a lot of fun writing these

Everything Is Alright Pt 98

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Optics half shuttered, Megatron shifts uncomfortably on his throne. Had thought this would get that awful curiosity out of his system and be a lesson to Starscream about who’s in control. Punishing the Seeker isn’t going exactly as planned, though. More like punishing himself. Frame shuddering as you give a breathy moan, before crying out Starscream’s name. A deviant part of him wanting to know what his name would sound like on your lips as you come apart. Instead of hearing Starscream snarl as he finishes inside you. You’re just a human, less than nothing really. He shouldn’t care, but he does.

• Servos tangling in your hair, Starscream presses his helm to your forehead before claiming your mouth. Trying his best to ignore Soundwave and Megatron both. When you loop your arms around his neck, he slides his own arms around you, taking you from Soundwave. “If you’re satisfied?” He growls head lifting, unable to make himself add ‘Lord Megatron’ as he glares. Wondering if the warlord will demand Soundwave claim you, too. Not that he thinks the communications officer would mind as he runs his palm down your spine, crooning to you.

• Resting your cheek against Starscream’s shoulder, you reach for Soundwave and close your eyes when he immediately laces his servos with your fingers. “You’ll bring our pet back before reporting for your duties,” Megatron says, leaning back on his throne. Those red optics are watching you and your mates. And there’s a hunger on his face that twists inside you. Eyes widening at the sound of Star’s thrusters powering up, you cling to him, legs wrapping more firmly around his waist as he vents as if aggrieved and reaches a hand out for Soundwave to clasp. Eyes closing against a slightly hysterical giggle because you hadn’t realized he could fly when not in his alt mode. And because he’s mass displaced darting out of the bridge, through the halls, spike still buried inside you as he drags Soundwave with him, dangling by a wrist.

• “Stop squirming. It’s not funny,” Starscream snarls as you start laughing, face pressed against his neck. And the sound kills the last of Soundwave’s tension. Because you’re okay. They all are. The secret is out and Megatron hadn’t punished them. Not exactly anyway. Truth be told, he’s almost positive Megatron is interested in you. Not that he’s about to snoop in the warlord’s thoughts or mention that theory to Starscream. No telling how the flighty Seeker might take it. Sharing with him is one thing, forcing him to share with the one mech he despises above all others? He’s afraid Starscream will run with you and he can’t risk that. Won’t lose you.

• Venting tiredly as you keep laughing, one corner of his mouth twitches. Unable to believe you’re okay. Safe. That Megatron had watched him frag you. That he’d dressed you in that sheer, revealing outfit as a punishment. Can hear your chains sliding against his chassis where you’re clinging to him and he’ll need to remove them. Though, using them to bind your arms over your head does have a certain appeal. As does fragging you while in the air. Though you might be upset if he let go of Soundwave to do it. At any rate, he’s going to take full advantage of being mass displaced. Take his time with you.

• Tossing a leg over the arm of his throne, Megatron stares at the ceiling. King of nothing but sorrow. Destroyer of worlds, including his own. Frustration leaving a bitter taste on his glossa, he covers his face with a hand and laughs. Because he can see those defiant eyes when his optic shutter. Hear those needy sounds. That hungry dissatisfaction spreading through his lines and digging into his spark. Wanting something he shouldn’t.

Previous

Next

[itsfeckinwimdy]

10 Types of Kisses

Various LOTR/TH x Reader

Pairings: Aragorn, Fili, Haldir, Kili, & Legolas x Reader (separately).

Pronouns: n/a.

Prompt(s): 10 types of kisses by @urfriendlywriter. You can find her post here. (I used 9/10 of them).

Word Count: 3.4k words (3415)

Warnings: No beta, we die like Boromir. open wounds (Aragorns + Fili's), marriage (Fili's), swearing (Kili's), mentions of battle + death + blood (Legolas).

Tree Speaks: I had a lot of fun writing this but it also went into territory that I'm not particularly comfortable with writing yet so we'll see how this pans out.

Translations: amad - mother, dwarrowdams - a term used for female dwarves.

LOTR + TH Masterlist

Published: 25/02/2023

1. Aragorn

soft kisses - where they're just lying beside you, hands playing with your hair as they trail tender kisses all over your lips

The two of you were meant to be sleeping of course, but the gloom of the mines made it hard to settle. You supposed that's why he pulled you away from the others slightly, to a spot just that bit further away.

Aragorn was on first watch as usual, having made it his task since the beginning of the journey, and always insisted that the hobbits and Gandalf got plenty of sleep. But with that came the usual knowing looks between the two of you as Aragorn knew his love wouldn't sleep unless he would.

So with that knowledge, and him sensing his love's rising anxiety at being trapped underground, it now brought them to this.

He tilted your head up from where it was resting against his chest, his hand cupping your face. Aragorn brushed a few loose strands of hair off your face from where it had fallen out of place as his own head tilted down towards yours. His hand gently entwined with your other, and he paused in his movements, allowing you to decide next.

You gently reached up, threading your hand through his long locks and gently pulling him down towards you. He pressed his lips to yours, mouth moving slowly, softly, intimately.

He pulled away, your lips chasing after his, a small smile gracing his lips as he pressed another kiss, and then another, and then another to your lips.

the type of kiss where you can't find words to say after, or the ones where your forehead lingers against each other's

Aragorn's horse trotted through helms deep, having just pulled him up from the river bed where if not found, he would've succumbed to his wounds. He dismounted his horse and received a scolding from Gimli before forcing himself up the staircases and into the deep.

Legolas rose from outside the doors, greeting his friend who believed him dead. The elf pulled him into a familiar embrace before pulling back and making a sarcastic comment about the ranger.

The elf turned a small smile gracing his face before yelling the name of a person. The ranger followed his line of sight. It fell on his love, you.

You looked up after the elf who yelled out to you, before seeing the man you mourned for standing with him. Abandoning your stuff, you ran to him, arms thrown over his shoulders and crushing him to your chest as a few sobs left you.

His arms encircled you as he leant his forehead against yours. He didn't care at that point about the mud caking him and he didn't think you cared enough at that point, so it made no odds on whether he was careful or not.

He pulled back slightly, raising his hand to caress your face before pressing his lips to yours. Tears left both of you as his mouth moved languidly with yours.

Aragorn pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He wanted to say so much to you, fearing that he would never see you again but all thoughts left him as he wished to stay in this moment, longing for nothing but you.

2. Fili

messy kisses - curly hair, ruffled sheets and half-buttoned clothes as you just want more and at that moment, they're the most beautiful soul to you ever

The sun trickled in through the window, bypassing the curtains that hadn't been fully drawn across the night before. The young (ish) couple lounged in the bed, bodies pressed together as close as they could get with the few layers of clothes still between them.

He tilted your head up to meet his, his lips pressing against yours, moving languidly in the early morn. Fili reached up, hand caressing your courting and marriage braids that were still somewhat intact.

He groaned, feeling one of your hands gripping the hair at the base of his neck and the other slipping under his shirt across his chest.

Fili pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet yours; your own half-lidded as you drew in a few stuttering breaths. It was a pleasant greeting from your love first thing in the morning, one that you would be against again.

You gazed up at Fili, the dwarf hovering over you, careful not to rest his entire body weight on you. The tressels of sunlight filtered through his hair, causing a glow to shine over him.

His eyes trailed over your face, memorising every detail as if it was the first time he saw you.

kisses on your body ♡ frail kisses on your shoulder! on your lower back, belly and trailing to your neck, collarbones, lips.

A cry of pain left your lips.

Oin pulled the blood-soaked cloth away from where it was pressed tightly against your side. The infection from the arrow had spread, the orcs having laced it with something deadly.

The pain wasn't something Fili wished on anyone, much less you. So he did his best to comfort you whilst the infection ransacked your body. His hands firmly held you, one holding the back of your head, and the other gripping your forearm to stop you from forcing Oin's hand away from the wound he was trying his best to treat.

After Oin had doused the cut in water, trying to flood any dirt that wormed its way in, Fili pulled you closer. The healer moved back to gather some more altheas and cloths, leaving you curled against your prince's chest.

Fili dropped his head down to your shoulder, as your tears continued to douse his shirt - not that he cared as it was covered in sweat, grime, and whatever else from the trip across middle earth - his hand on your head slipping down to the back of your neck, stroking his fingers in what he hoped was a soothing pattern.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, the fabric of your tunic had been pulled away, cut away for easier access. It would need replacing, he noted, but hoped that it would be enough to cover you until the sun rose again.

Fili continued his ministrations, pressing another kiss further up your shoulder. And then another at the junction where it met your neck. He considered pressing one to your neck, in that one spot he knew made you shiver, but with the way you were sitting in his lap you were already considered improper in public, so he begrudgingly decided against it.

Oin chose to return at that moment, pressing the churned-up altheas against your wound and then tying the cleanest cloth over it. You cried out in pain, more tears falling. It was like someone was driving a burning knife into your arm, over, and over, and over again. The pain rolling in waves.

Fili kept whispering words of praises and comfort, the Kadzhul translations lost in your mind as all you could feel was the pain, and him.

The knot was finally tied on the bandage. Fili slid his hand from the back of your neck to cup your face, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead before leaning his own upon yours.

I'm here, you're safe now, I love you, the action spoke more words than Fili could find himself saying.

3. Haldir

lazy kisses as they admire you - fingers delicately trialing your jaw as they kiss your lips

"Haldir," you groaned, leaning back against his chest, head turned up to face him. A smile graced his lips, his eyes locked with yours, shining full of love.

It wasn't often you got to spend a prolonged period of time with your Marchwarden, especially with him being gone for months at a time to guard Lothlórien's borders. So any time you spent with him was precious, even if you knew he would be leaving at the end of it again.

The braid in his hair was loose, albeit from your hands running through his hair earlier, causing him to have a sexy, but dishevelled look. The thought of elves being supermodels no matter what state they were in flashed through your mind again causing you to chuckle slightly.

Haldir raised his hand, letting it linger under your jaw as he delicately leaned down to place another kiss against your lips. Warmth bloomed through you and as his lips moved against yours, all thought about him having to leave again in a few days retreated into the depths of your mind.

You were drunk off the taste of him, off his kisses as he stole your breath each time. And nothing would ever change that.

goodbye kisses - kisses lingering like liquor in each other's lips, bitter but sweet, "I'll always come back to you, love. you're my home after all."

The boats gifted to the fellowship had just finished being prepared and were packed full of provisions to last you a good while.

The thought of having to leave your home again haunted you but not just because it was where you lived. No, because this time you were leaving your love, not knowing when you were to see him again. He was your home.

The Marchwarden was allowed to see his love off, having been granted a week's leave whilst you and the fellowship recovered and stayed in Caras Galadhon, Lothlórien. After you were sent as an emissary to Imladris, Rivendell in the common tongue, and word had returned that you had embarked on a journey to destroy the one ring, Haldir was worried for you.

He knew the history of the ring, as did most if not all elves and was worried about the dangers you may face. He knew that you could protect yourself, having been a sparring partner against you for years, but the worry did not dissipate.

He met you at the shoreline, his hand over his heart in the traditional greeting before he held your hand in his. Sadness filled his eyes as he wished not to see you leave, but knowing that this was a journey you were willing to take.

Haldir leant his head against yours as he fixed the cloak hung around your shoulders, ensuring that the broach was attached properly.

His hands lingered on your waist as he prepared himself to say goodbye again. It was one thing being the one who was leaving, but now that he was on the receiving side for once, he now knew how your heart felt each time he went on patrol. That feeling of not knowing if you were coming back or not eating at his heart.

Your hand on his cheek stole his spiralling mind from his thoughts as your lips pressed against his. A tear threatened to leave his eye as he consumed your kiss like a drug. The fear bubbling in his chest soothing to make way for the love he held for you but the melancholy feeling at having to be parted from you made it more bittersweet than anything.

His lips lingered over yours as you pulled away, his hand raising to stoke a strand of hair back from your face. Haldir wished he could keep you here in his arms but understood the task you had undertaken would not be dropped lightly.

4. Kili

kissing and realising this is the person you'll always love, you'll always want to touch and snuggle with

Kili didn't think he could hold you any closer than he currently was.

You were practically melded into him, hands gripping tightly to the back of his jacket. The clothing was still damp from the thunderous storm you had walked through, but nonetheless had to still wear.

The terror that shot through him as the thunder giant collided with the mountain, believing that he had lost not only his brother but you as well, was something he never wished to feel again. His hands trembled slightly at the thought.

He shifted slightly, taking some pressure off his shoulder whilst pulling you upwards slightly so you were level with him. The ground wasn't pleasant to lie on, less so on his side, and even less so with damp clothes on, but Kili knew this was the company's best option right now.

Kili rested his head against yours, his eyes meeting yours. He nudged his nose with yours affectionately, giving you time to pull away.

It was something he always did, you noted. Every time he wanted to kiss you but couldn't find the words to say it, or was surrounded by too many prying eyes, he did that. Gave you that tell that allowed you to decide what happens next.

You tentatively leant forwards, tilting your head upwards ever so slightly, letting your lips press against his. There was no rush. No incessant desire to pull the other closer, just him.

Kili moved his lips slowly with yours, savouring every moment that he got with you. Fuck, he loved you. The realisation pulled at his heartstrings more, knowing that he could've lost you today.

prohibited kiss - you're not even supposed to be seeing each other but your hands are on his hair and his hands around your waist, lower bodies pressing into each other as you kiss

Laughter radiated through your body as you were pulled through the endless turns and corridors of Erebor. The stone walls were lined with torches and braziers all lit with fires burning brightly.

To anyone else, it would be a maze, a catacomb of tunnels that unless sense was made of them, would surely lead to your demise. But years of living there had engraved the pathways into your mind, and no doubt Kili's.

His hand dragged you to a secluded corner, himself coming to a halt. He could no longer hear the guards trying to follow the two of you. Pride flooded his chest as he gazed back at you, finally alone with his betrothed.

You were finally able to get a good look at him, now that he didn't have all the dwarrowdams fawning over him. Even if he wasn't "beautiful" by dwarf standards, he was still a prince and would have people trying to gain his favour.

But his title didn't matter to you. Kili did.

And by the creator himself, did you love the way he looked. His hair tousled from the running, and the short beard he was so desperately trying to grow accentuated his face.

But the ceremonial robes that hung to his body? You couldn't resist.

He found himself pushed back, pinned against the pillar. Kili's eyes locked with yours, the same fire of desire within him, burning through you.

Your lips pressed with his, mouths moving frantically with the others. Your hands that gripped onto the front of his robes slid up, trailing up his neck and into his hair, pulling slightly to press him into you more.  A groan left him at a particularly harsh tug before your hand moved to trace his courting braid.

He pulled away, panting, breathless, kissing you again and pulling you into him, arms gripping your waist, hands in his hair, your bodies practically merging into one. If his Amad caught him now, he wouldn't even have to face the scornful looks of Dwalin, he would already be lying in his grave.

But could he let you go? Fuck no.

5. Legolas

shy kisses - when you're the one pulling them closer, and they nuzzle their face in your crook after the kiss, hands around your waist as their ears get red

You were scared. If anything you were currently lustful, but you were about to fight in a war against ten thousand troops with an army of less than a third of that. So you were scared.

Legolas had turned to where you leant against one of the pillars, choosing to come and check all the fastenings on your armour. He was meticulous and methodical as he went to each and every one, adjusting where he deemed necessary whilst checking it caused you no discomfort.

A soft smile graced your face, as you watch his gentle movements before reaching out to cup his face in one of your hands. A blush, so subtle anyone who didn’t know Legolas would miss it, warmed his face, his head lifting and eyes locking with yours. It was as if he was staring straight into your soul, his piercing grey eyes full of love but fear.

You pulled him towards you, Legolas leaning his head down as his hand held over yours on his face, the other resting gently on your waist. Leaning up, you gently pressed your lips to his. Just once, mind you, the action as tender as possible, letting him come to you.

Legolas leant into you, pressing his lips back against yours, moving at a slow pace. He wanted to savour this moment as much as possible before the two of you walked to what could be your deaths.

ahem.

The clearing of the person's throat sprung the two of you apart, you mentally preparing for the endless stream of apologies to whichever passerby caught you, only for it to be someone you knew all too well.

"Aragorn." You spoke, heavily embarrassed to be caught with your lover.

The ranger looked between the two of you, his face being that awful neutral resting one making it so you couldn't judge his feelings on the matter. Aragorn must have read the panic starting to creep up in you as a teasing smile broke out.

“I have no qualms with this,” he began before looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the armoury, “but the people of Rohan may not be as forgiving if you are caught.”

He turned on his heel, making his way up the staircase and leaving the two to their devices.

A moment passed and then a chuckle left your lips as a sigh left Legolas’. His head fell to your shoulder as the blush absconding his cheeks spread like wildfire tinting his ears a rosy colour.

At least it was only Aragorn, you mused, If Gimli had found you then he wouldn’t stop teasing your elf.

kisses of reassurance - saying that you're safe, still with them, that your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, that they couldn't get rid of you if they tried, that for some insane reason, you're not dead yet

Your chest heaved, trying to inhale as much air as possible as you sprinted up the mud-soaked hill. Aragorn had yelled for the soldiers to retreat into Minas Tirith and you were making your way as fast as you could until an arrow pierced your shoulder.

The doors were closed and sealed as you entered alongside the last few stragglers, a resounding bang from the wood hitting the stone frame. The room spun on its axis.

The throbbing pain in your arm continued, each ebb seeming stronger which was probably due to the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe you should've stayed fighting, it surely couldn't hurt as much as your arm did, you thought as your uninjured arm reached out to hold yourself up against the wall.

Giving up on keeping yourself upright, you slid falling somewhat ungracefully to the floor, blood dripping from your wound and soaking your sleeve. It was funny how much damage one arrow could cause.

You blinked.

The sun had risen, and from where you could see it, it was around mid-morning. Your eyes focused and you could see a worried face in a sea of platinum blonde hair. Legolas.

Ignoring the sound of the elf’s worry, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, as he gracefully knelt down next to you. His hands mindlessly moved to cup your face, as he had to pull his eyes away from your crudely bandaged arm. The arrow had been jagged and cut more as it pierced you, causing more blood to be lost.

Your hand covered one of his as Legolas moved to press his forehead to yours.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand absentmindedly, as you tilted your head up, meeting his lips with yours. It was one of desperation, longing and fear. A shuddered breath left you as the two of you broke apart.

“We’re okay.”

[bones4thecats]

┗ A Star's Shield; Starscream × F! S/O ┛

Characters: Starscream (Transformers One) A/N: This was a lot of fun to write, though I do believe it could have been better, I do think it turned out pretty good. Anyways, sorry for the long wait for this. Enjoy <3 Trigger Warnings for: Kidnapping, corrupt government, assault, unwanted advances. Sentinel is just his own trigger warning at this point. ⇘ Summary: After being captured by Airachnid and the Cybertronian Government, you were thrown into a room with the rest of your captured High Guard members and two miner bots. As you were handed over to Sentinel Prime by his right-hand, you notice your sparkmate, Starscream, watching you in an attempt to keep you and himself calm. But, when Sentinel begins to speak, not even B-127 could keep himself calm. Italic words = past memories

┍━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

💫 A cozy set of rays from the sun began to cover Cybertron. Another day, another restless amount of hours trying to sabotage Sentinel Prime beyond what his reputation could save.

💫 The steps of a seeker made you look up from the surface floor of your base's exteriors. There, walking up to you, was Starscream. He had been leading your guard, the High Guard, for so long that you could hardly keep count, and that says a lot.

💫 Starscream looked at you and nodded. You responded the same as you looked back outside. It was hard to see without expert optics, but, far out in the distance, was Iacon City. Your optics narrowed as memories you once made there popped up. Anyone who understood your real self knew why that bothered you so much.

"I heard from Wreckwave that the Iacon 5000 is happening tomorrow." Starscream said.

"I did too. Why does it matter? Are we planning something big during it or something?" You questioned back.

"No. Though, it would be of expert insight that at least some-bot goes there to check on how the city is holding together after all this time."

💫 His optics slightly shut as he chuckled. He then lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he laid his helm on top of your own. As seekers, you were both fairly tall, though, you were just about a head shorter than the masculine one next to you. Fortunate for him, unfortunate for your short self.

"Let me guess, Scream'. You want me to go down there with you?"

"I knew your processor would lock in sooner rather than later!" He smiled.

"And, what happens if, I don't know- a member of the guard sees us snooping around? You know that Sentinel and the High Guard aren't exactly friends, and most definitely not close to frenemies."

"That's the thing. I have spoken with Shockwave, and he has a device that shall last for, around a third of a cycle. Are you in or out, my dearest Y/N?"

"Is that even a question?"

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

💫 Your optics went online as you groaned, pain covering the back of your helm as you looked around. You reached up and felt the back of your helmet, and once you felt the liquid, you froze in fear. You remembered what happened now.

💫 It was when those four bots were brought to your base. A blue and red one, a grey one with a Megatronus Prime sticker on his shoulder, another with a yellow-colored frame, and the only feminine one, whom was colored pink with some white here and there.

💫 They, well, the red and blue one at least, proposed that they were on the same side as you. They wanted to reveal Sentinel Prime as the traitor to Cybertron that he was. And honestly? You thought it was a pretty good deal. Starscream on the other hand? His own beliefs clouded his judgement of the four.

💫 When the grey one, whom the blue and red one called D, tried to walk out of the base to locate Cybertron's leader to punish himself, Starscream obviously was taking a hit to his own ego. Shocker.

💫 As he was chocked to the point that his voice-box was beginning to be crushed, making what was once a smooth and slightly-raspy voice begin to go from pitch to pitch with a highly artificial tang being added on top of it all. You had been able to slightly alter it, bringing the pitches down slightly, but fixing it fully was beyond anyone's abilities.

💫 While your memories came back, a dark figure stepped inside with golden-Cybertronians following suite. You looked up towards the helms of these people and scoffed. You recognized the tallest one. It was Airachnid. The heap of scrap that was somehow still alive well without any scratches. How disappointing.

"Get her up. I'm sure he's going to be very pleased to see his favorite old friend here." She said, grazing underneath your chin with one of her elongated insect-legs.

"Good to see you as well, Airachnid." You said.

💫 Airachnid rolled her optics and began walking away, a guard at both sides of you as you followed. Unwilling was one word to describe the entire journey through the tower's halls. Until you found Starscream and got the others out to safety, you needed to keep these fearful thoughts of yours out of sight and out of mind.

💫 Sentinel looked at a statue and glared, those Primes that tried holding the planet back from compromise. He did the right thing. Of course he did, how could his judgement be bad?

💫 The Prime looked over his shoulder and cocked a brow, wondering why Airachnid was bringing in some random seeker. So, in his true, straight-forward nature, asked the insect-themed Cybertronian about this.

"I'm sure you'll love to find out who this is."

"Yeah, yeah. Get to the point."

💫 The mask that covered most of your helm released pressure as it was unlocked by a guard. You grimaced as light hit you all of a sudden, seriously, a warning would be amazing sometimes.

"It can't be. Y/N?"

"...Y/N?"

💫 Sentinel's optics were wide as he stepped up to look closely at you. It just couldn't be you. There was no way in the name of the 13 Primes that you were alive and standing right before him.

"I almost forgot just how beautiful you were. Though, you looked better on the ground, kneeling before me." Sentinel smirked before allowing his hand to drift across your face, to your shoulder, and down to your sides. "Go ahead and undo her cuffs. I'm sure she won't claw me without orders."

"Are you sure, Sir?" A guard asked.

"Completely."

💫 Your brows furrowed as you glared at him. The clicks of your cuffs coming undone hit everyone's sound-receptors, and before anyone realized it, you had launched yourself at Sentinel, grabbing one of his wings and tugging on it to draw some sort of pain.

💫 Sentinel just glared and wrapped a servo around your neck, lifted you up in the air and chuckled darkly. Everyone, including the guards, shivered as he crushed your neck slowly and delicately, almost as if he was enjoying this pain he was drawing out of you.

"How did I know you were going to do that?"

💫 Crash.

"Y/N!" B-127 yelled.

💫 You yelped as your back made contact with the nearby wall. The pain that overtook your system was immediate, and it only worsened as a guard picked you up and threw you back at Sentinel to keep torturing.

💫 His servo wrapped around your neck once again, this time from behind as he held you flush against his front. Sentinel smirked and wrapped his opposite roam around your waist as you struggled to free yourself.

"You know, if you had just stayed by my side we could've been the perfect duo. Leading Cybertron into the future."

"Like hell I would've-" A gasp came out as his grasp on your vocal cords tightened.

"Had the most perfect model family unit. Two young sparklings filled with potential. Little Quartermaster and Artillery. Sounds just right, wouldn't you agree, lovely?"

"Get your servos off of her!" Starscream yelled.

"Oh?" Sentinel hummed. "I forgot just how dear you two held one another. Almost as if you were together for eons before I met you."

"We were, and still are! So, I will warn you one more time, Sentinel. Get your energon-stained servos off of my sparkmate!"

💫 Sentinel rolled his optics and latched another pair of cuffs on you, securing your violent impulses. He got near your sound-receptors once again and said quietly;

"To bad your love for that pitchy seeker kept that future out of my grasp."

💫 Starscream kneeled back down as you were thrown in front of him, dents in your frame as he looked you over. Fear was in his optics as he looked you over. And, as Sentinel moved onto D-16, Starscream paid attention to you, keeping the guards and Airachnid away from your frame. No more pain was going to come to you while he stood beside you.

💫 But, unknowingly to you both, that future was soon to be completely changed.

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

"There is no way that Starscream yelled at Sentinel Prime!" Blitzwing said.

💫 You smiled at the bot holding two sparklings in his lap, acting like the older brother figure that he was for them as they've aged.

"Well, believe it or don't, I know for sure that he did." You said, turning around to look at the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons as he planned with Megatron the next move in the war.

"And I'm thankful every passing moment that he was there for me..."

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (3)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, two, four, five

Word Count: around 2K again.

Warnings: minimum context of the arlong park part of the story (background), MUTUAL FLIRTING, forbiden pinning of them both, Buggy has his body back *wiggling eyebrows*, sexy times

A/N: devil works hard but i'm working harder, every 5 free min i have from work/class/practices i'm writing on my phone, i'ts actually insane and i love it (ROAD TO CHAPTER 4?? If you like this one and want the next one, please let me know!)

Oh, he was mad. He was really mad.

Maybe "sexually frustrated" was a way more accurate term given the circumstances but the feeling was so strong, so visceral, he was sure he was reaching a point where jumping to the sea to end that agony -even if a bit exaggerated, like him always, everywhere and for everything- was justified.

Somewhere in Arlong Park, Buggy could feel the boner pressing his pants, demanding to be satisfied; dirty talk was one of his true passions and when (Y/N) played that card on him, being capable of picturing himself with her on his lap, that damn woman so -actually- close to his face in that moment he was already tasting her lips, her low, smooth voice driving him insane, he could not help it, but get turned on so easily and so strong is been hours, and he's still mad, incapable of stop thinking about that.

That is, perhaps, the reason he feels relief as soon as the sun rises and Usopp is back on the helm again, asking for directions as Buggy, in fact, demands to go faster. Like instead of slicing and dicing his body, his power could control the wind that propelled the boat or the force of the waves against the hull.

(Y/N) ran away just after such a -even if brief- conversation. She may have broken his balls with that dirty trick, but she was equally a victim of her own game. She knew what to say to push Buggy and leave him so stunned -to speak- that the poor clown didn't have the chance to fight back at that moment, not without his body to help him keep her in that kitchen, lift her up on the counter, force her to back down, regret even thinking she could do that to him, and then, only then, yes, fuck her until she wakes up the rest of her little and - according to him - pathetic crew with her moans.

Or so the girl imagined, leaning against the door of her room, eyes closed, heart slightly racing, fighting the temptation to lie down on the bed and masturbate thinking about what had just happened.

Which included him. Him!! What the hell, was she actually losing her mind? All that damn flirting had really gotten into her, for fucks sake, because regardless of her finding him quite interesting when they met, this attraction was something else.

Lately everything around her was something else. Did she really think through the decision of leaving her mercenary life behind and follow those kids to the Grand Line? Did she really think through the decision of flirting back with a psychopath clown?

Because in the end it's just that, right? Flirting. Was nothing else, is nothing else, and will be nothing else. She doesn’t want it to be something more, that's for sure; there's no need for unnecessary complications and extra headaches. In the meantime, it's fun, a bit of a backfire kind of situation, a bit -sexually- frustrating, but fun.

After a good ol' resting night and already some hours into the new day, (Y/N) notices that it's been a lot, since their encounter in the kitchen to be precise, that Buggy not only doesn't flirt with her, but doesn't talk that much or even look at her as amazed as before. Of course, he is, also, way less annoying, which Zoro subtly points out clearly pleased with how calm, nice and silent this morning is.

At some point she shakes her head, knowing, or at least guessing, the reason for this behavior, so she decides to check no one's around and the rudder is locked in the right direction, and then goes to where the bag with his head is, closed probably by the sniper when he got the last indications he needed from him. She opens it, lowering it until the clown's head is free on top of that barrel.

"How are you doing, Bugs?" she starts with a funny little smile, looking intently at him as she leans her back forward to leave her face level with his. "It's been hours I don't hear your raspy voice, I'm starting to miss it."

Silence. Absolute indifference besides the sidelong glance he gives her because let's face it, Buggy is annoyingly proud, extremely, exaggeratedly, but he loves attention. He likes nothing more than receiving it, no matter where, when, and from who, and she could see it as soon as they met.

"Also your silly nicknames for me" She grants, giving in. She would also be mad as hell if someone leaves her as horny as she knew she left him, so she doesn't have any problem being the one to start the tug-war this time.

"Already tired of the shidiots?" He finally asks, almost drily, after a minute; now he is the one to play difficult, huh? "No wonder, they don't even know where to start being pirates."

"Oh, of course, because no one compares to the famous Buggy The Clown, the colorful nightmare or the East Blue." Playful, she retreats a bit, resting her hip in the barrel, arms crossed over her chest.

"Quit the sarcasm doll, you know I'm right." Well, he was, in fact, right. None of them had real experience in the whole i-wanna-become-a-pirate thing, still, they were doing pretty good to be newbies. She was quite proud of them.

"I cannot wait to have my body back" he then murmurs, adding before she could say anything else about her new friends. "To do what?" She asks, you know, like she didn't know.

"Take a guess"

"Recover your spotlight? Find a new crew and a way to enter the Grand Line to go search the One Piece and be the king of the pirates?" (Y/N) mocks, clearly enjoying being the annoying one this time.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah'' Buggy rolls his eyes, scoffing. ''All that, but not before making you regret what you did last night." To that accusation she gasps, resting her right hand over her chest "What did I do last night?"

The clown falls silent again, but his mood is completely different. Right now he's not pissed off, it's obvious that this time, instead of flirting with her in a casual and natural way, he’s thinking what to say, choosing carefully his words to return a fraction of the effect she had on him hours ago.

His eyes darken, and his voice goes octaves lower and raspier. "Sweetheart, there will be no possible escape from what I plan to do with you. At the slightest opportunity I will make you cum on me so many times you will be the one to find the One Piece without needing to go to the Grand Line, but first…'' He pauses, breathes, and lets it go calmly, like the intimidating, psychopathic calculator she saw at the circus and not that flirty cartoonish version she got to know on the ship. ''you will beg for it."

She knows she shouldn't surrender to this type of tease, but she also can't and doesn't want to avoid it. Getting heavily carried away, without thinking about it twice, one of the girl's hands slides to the back of his neck, slipping under the bandana, and tugs his hair aggressively as she leans in again to speak close to his face. He grunts in pure satisfaction, closing his eyes for a second. Of course (Y/N) is, once again, taking advantage of the fact that he cannot defend himself no being more than a head, and the fact is that he enjoys like a condemned bastard those small but intense gestures the girl has given him since they met at the circus.

He can't wait to break a woman like her. And oh, he will.

"Are you sure about that?" Hearing distant steps, someone from the crew coming out on deck and climbing the stairs, she gets some distance from him, acting naturally, closing the bag again around his head. "My expectations just skyrocketed, I hope you don't disappoint."

By the end of the day, the Konomi Islands begin to appear on the horizon, and as soon as they set foot on them, shits get really serious. The situation of the poor people who live there is heartbreaking, so for two days, no one dares to make a single joke, Luffy's usual energy and bubbly positivity is nowhere to be seen, and of course, the interactions of (Y/N) and Buggy are reduced to = 0. The clown's head is no longer of any real use to them, and it’s poor Sanji, the new recruit, who’s carrying it around just in case.

At least until they reach Arlong Park.

Again, (Y/N) is not exactly the type of mercenary expert in martial arts and although she knows how to defend herself, fighting like Zoro or Sanji is, in few words, impossible. Her only advantage is being very, very fast, and knowing how to use the scenery to her advantage, so it doesn't take long for her to hide here and there among the different tents and attractions in the area to get rid of the most straggler fishmen, with a knife she got long ago during one of her jobs, capable of cutting their tough skin easily.

Everything happens so fast and is so chaotic that apart from some screams and blows in the background and having seen Usopp running towards the forest, (Y/N) is completely unaware of what is happening in the main complex.

A strong pull on her left arm activates her flight or fight response as one last fish falls dead to the ground in front of her. Raising the knife, in a quick movement, she tries to defend herself by aiming at the stranger's neck, although in vain; a pair of lips whose red has already been worn for days impact against hers, stealing her breath, a small moan escaping her. Eyes wide open, she barely registers the blurry color of Buggy's nose when two strong hands squeeze her hips as if the life of the clown depended on it, pushing the girl against the wall of the building behind them, cornering her without any type of delicacy.

She hadn't heard from him since they reached the island. Hell, she didn't even know he had got his full body back and was already so close to it that air was unable to pass between each other.

Of course, the moment the clown's head joined the rest of himself -the feeling much better than he remembered- he fucked off his captors and decided to flee. Not before making a vital stop along the way.

The ideas about how to proceed with her once he was whole were very, very different in his wild fantasies, but when he saw the girl's back, he knew that the only thing that would -partially- calm his yearning would be to kiss her before disappearing as fast as possible. To taste her lips, to feel her warmth.

Still not recovered from the shock of the kiss, Y/N doesn't remove the knife from the clown's neck, but he couldn't care less; quite the opposite. He is so turned on and waited so much -again, exaggerated- for this he doesn't know yet how he will be able to break the kiss, take distance from her, and run away.

Passionately carried away, moved by his most primitive instincts, Buggy sneaks one of his legs between hers, pressing in between them as Y/N inhales through her nose and her free hand flies to his vest, pulling it a little.

It wasn't the time, nor the place, to think about fucking that asshole, but damn, after all the teasing and the tension and the adrenaline of the fight--

And just when she starts fully giving in to him, he retreats just enough, panting a bit, and looks at her now red, stained lips, eyes darkened and full of lust. Just like hers.

"Hate to leave you like this sweetheart but I have things to do and places to go. I don't want people relating me to Arlong, I would hate the bad press on my persona." He whispers, cracking his usual cruel, playful smirk when he finally puts some distance between each other.

‘’It's time to exit stage left.’’ Buggy adds, theatrically raising both hands in the air. ‘’I promise I’ll see you around.’’

And like this, he stars running away again. Where? She doesn't know, or even guess at this moment, too busy registering the kiss in her memory, the way his lips felt on hers, how his nose pressed her cheek the entire time, or his hands grabbed onto her for dear life.

Bastard.

''You better'', she whispers to herself.

[tinydefector]

If you're still taking requests, I would love to hear any and all headcanons for Minimus with his human please? Sfw, nsfw whatever you wanna write. I love him so much, and there's not enough about him.

Minimus HC's SFW and NSFW

I'm still sick AF but did some of this. I probably won't be working on fics yet, but I decided to work on this over the past two days. Had alot of fun doing this so I hope you like it!.

________

SFW

-Minimus is an extremely gentle and careful lover. As Magnus he's so large that he would worry constantly about accidentally hurting his smaller partner. Lots of delicate handling and making sure not to apply too much pressure in any way when interacting with them.

- Protective to a fault. If anyone so much as tries to hurt his lover most times it's Rodimus with his silly stunts and he gets the full Magnus glare. But he's also conscious of seeming intimidating and tries to moderate it for his lover's sake, and tries not to show how much he worries. 

- Self-conscious about his true size, but finds it much nicer with a human lover outside of the Magnus armour, he's able to hold his lover's hands, walk about the same pace as them and actually cuddle them properly. 

 - Excellent communicator. Wants to make sure his partner is fully comfortable, cared for. Checks in frequently about plans to make sure everything is alright and tries to make sure his lover gives input so they can make it a decent outing.  

- Loves human affections like kissing. Finding the tender gestures sweet and rewarding in a way that is just so different from Helm holds.

- Cuddling. As Ultra Magnus his size makes intimacy tricky, but Minimus would love nothing more than curling up in a quiet corner with his lover in his lap, holding them gently as they read or chat. Very cuddly when in private. Loves holding his partner close against his plating. He adores how warm their skin is compared to his servo. 

- Loves learning about human culture. He finds Earth fascinating and enjoys it when his lover teaches him new things about music, movies, history, popular culture etc. He's always asking questions.

- adores physical affection. As a minibot he doesn't get many opportunities for hugs and cuddles. He loves holding his lover close and pressing his faceplate against theirs, kisses, or having them sit in his lap while he nuzzles them. 

-a small collection of pet names he has for his lover: 

"My shining solace"

" pesky pest" 

"My scraplet"

"My spark" 

"My shining star"

"Dear spark"

"Core of my world" 

"Light of my world" 

"Beloved" 

His favourite date ideas depending on if you're on cybertron, Earth, or the Lost light:

- A trip to the civic archives or museum, where he could provide fascinating historical context as they learn about their city/planet's cultural heritage, this one works for both cybertron and Earth, it gives him the chance to share his history with his lover and to also learn the history of earth. Not the most flashy date but it is a very educational One. 

- Stargazing at a remote locale away from light pollution or from the Observation deck of the ship. where he could point out constellations and share astronomical knowledge. It turns into making shapes from the stars. 

- Cooking/baking class, allowing him to be creative while learning new skills, but so he can make human foods for his lover. He wants to be able to make beautiful meals, desserts even if he himself can't eat human foods. 

- A romantic picnic in the botanical/ Crystal gardens, where they can both just lay there and admire the plant life, pointing out plants they like.  

-but most of all he loves quiet nights with you in his quarters just enjoying each other's company, from watching holos, working or just laying beside each other.   

NSFW: 

KINKS & FETISHES

Kink Soft Fabrics: 

bondage : he loves being able to tie you up with ribbons or silk, he's not much for rope or anything that could hurt you but he loves wrapping you up in fine fabrics, watching the way it pulls your skin, but most of all his favourite part is unwrapping it, pulling you closer as he kisses you. 

Blindfolks: blinds folds also fit into the soft fabric Kink he has, he loves watching your face even with your eyes out of the picture. Watching the way you shutter and whine as he lightly brushes his digits across your skin, or the way he sinks into you before leaning into your ear. He loves the idea of having trust in him.  

Underwear: he loves, Loves seeing you in different sets of Underwear, it doesn't matter if they are frilly, lace little things or even boxers, this mech loves the way they morph to your skin, he loves running his servos over the soft fabric lightly pulling it and letting it snapback, enjoying the way you yelp or Squeal before you try to playfully slap him. 

Uniforms: we all know this Mech has a thing for uniforms and the moment he gets you in your uniform he's admiring. Gently touching and praising the way it fits your form, he also loves slowly undressing you, taking his time to drink in every little detail ask your lain bare Before his optics. 

Body kinks and fetishes: 

Breath play: there is something so fascinating to him about humans breathing, he loves watching the vapour clouds. While holding you close, watching each shaky breath you take as he thrust into you, loving the way it turns to moisture on his plating. But he also loves just laying beside you, admiring the way your body moves with each deep breath you take while you sleep. 

Hair fetish: this Mech has a thing for anything alien when it comes to his lover and Hair is one of them, he loves the way it feels in his servos, loves how it looks just normally, he tries not to pull it out of fear of it getting caught in the joins Of his digits. But he also adores how it looks spread out as a hallo When you're under him. 

Hand fetish: he has a thing for Your hands, loves the way they trace across his plating, they are so soft and warm and he loves just pressing his face into the palm of your hand, kissing your wrist and pinning them above your head as your legs are wrapped around his hips and he takes you.  

Others:

Interrogation Play: it's not one he partakes in a lot but he will if you are the one to bring it up first, it becomes very much a game of who's willing to break first, but other times it turns into desk sex where at the end of it he's kissing every inch of skin he can.  

Mirror play: mirrors just bring such a beautiful touch to interfacing for Minimus,  he loves being able to make you watch how your body reacts to him, he himself loves being able to stare into the mirror and watch the way your eyes never leave his, he loves pairing mirror play with ribbon/ bondage. 

Xenophilia: this mech despite how much he would try to deny it is very much a Xenophile due to humans and a few other humanoid species, but you took the cake by making him fall head over pede for you. The amount of study and work he put into trying to figure out if he could court you, interface. He spends a lot of time and he doesn't think he'd ever want a Cybertronian lover after you. 

_________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It’s time! I have unblocked the tags, seen the movie, and have thoughts about War of the Rohirrim!

There are some extremely generalized thoughts here, and then more specific and detailed thoughts are below the cut to shield them from those who want to avoid all discussion of plot. Also, I have literally *just* seen it, and it’s a lot to take in what with visuals, story, music, etc. So I reserve my right to change my mind later!

I liked it! I thought it was fun and engaging, and getting to revisit treasured sentimental things like the visuals of Meduseld or the Rohan theme from the original LOTR score are just like cheat codes to my heart.

It has canon deviations. In some cases, I can see why they wanted to make changes for purposes of effective movie storytelling (changing the location of certain events, for example). In others, I think it was probably just a desire to throw in something that folks will recognize from the movies/books even though the story didn’t need it. It doesn’t upset me, but your personal mileage might vary.

There’s been a lot of attention paid to Héra as the main character, but there are other cool women characters that have been added as well. That being said, I think the movie is still a little confused/confusing in what it thinks about the role of women in Rohirrim society and leadership. And, you know, Tolkien was confusing about it, too, which is why we are still having the “what really is a shield maiden?” discussion in 2024. But it’s notable to me nonetheless.

I went to an AMC but, alas, they did not have the war hammer popcorn buckets. ☹️

More specific opinions, kind of firehose style:

I liked Héra a lot and the old lady from the Hornburg, but I really liked Olwyn! I wish they would have made her Helm’s wife/Héra’s mom so that we could have avoided the Dead Mom trope. That would have also explained how/why Olwyn was wielding such significant authority/command over the defense of Edoras and the Hornburg even though she was positioned solely as someone in service to Héra.

They went WAY easy on Helm in the opening sequence with Freca. I can understand why — they don’t want to make Helm unlikeable right from the jump — but Helm of the books was more of an instigator of that mess than Freca (Helm swung first!!!) and he was a much bigger dick about it. I think it would have been interesting to see the other iteration, which would have been a more complex, nuanced take on Helm and given him even more chance for emotional growth.

That being said, I really liked how they handled the whole “Helm wanders off into the snow each night and scares the shit out of Wulf’s army” stuff. I thought it was really cool and very effective. Two thumbs up.

I was very appreciative that they made the Dunlending general who was aiding Wulf (Tragg? I think? Nope, Targg!) a real person — smart, strategic, not bloodthirsty, with real humanity — rather than the one dimensional “savage wild man” stereotype that has so often been the Dunlendings’ narrative fate.

OKAY Fréaláf!!! Loved that guy. Handsome, noble, loyal, progressive, showing up on the ridge with the ringing of horns just in time to turn the tide of a battle. Legend.

Miranda Otto says in the opening narration that you won’t hear about Héra in the histories and legends from that time (which you’ve gotta say, right, since she’s an invented character that is literally not in any of the histories and legends!). But I wish they had followed up on that directly at the end with a more concrete explanation for WHY she’s not remembered. Fréaláf loved her and respected her! He wouldn’t have erased her from the story even if she had ridden off to some uncertain adventure with Gandalf and never returned again! So I was left a little bit wondering still, “what happened???”

EDITING TO ADD: I cannot believe I forgot to say how glad I was that the movie seemed not to care about Héra’s romantic life at all. She says very clearly that she’s not interested in getting married, and of course Wulf doesn’t like that. But we don’t spend time delving into what she actually means or why she feels that way and we don’t have her reach some weird heteronormative realization along the way that she DOES want a man even if it’s not Wulf. It’s just stated and then we move on. Maybe she’s a lesbian, maybe she’s aro/ace, maybe she just has other priorities and concerns right now. Whatever her deal is, the movie is content to let it be without drama or judgment. And I liked that.

Stopping there because this could get quite long and I’m still thinking things over, but that’s my start!

[ajwrks]

Would you be willing to write a platonic oneshot with Ultra Magnus and a gender neutral human reader? :)

(I loved your Ratchet fic btw, it was perfect)

—Distractions

ultra magnus x gn! human reader

i’m glad you liked it!! <3

this one shot is about reader getting ultra magnus to play board games instead of doing his job 🔥. and the research i tried to do on cybertronian games was actually so bad LMAO. so just imagine the game is jenga/tetris 💔

It’s late into the afternoon. far too late. the bright overhead lights humming quietly, the muted buzz of keys fills the empty void. you stand patiently in front of his desk— his very clean and pristine desk, it makes you wonder if ultra magnus has any life outside of harshly enforcing rules and patrolling the ship like his spark depended on it. 

“can i assist you with anything?” he finally says, optics shifting away from his extensive layers of spreadsheets and… and you’re not too sure anymore. you just know that it is a lot of work for one person to be doing alone. 

“i think you’re the one who needs help. why do you drown yourself in all of this?” you cringed, making it very evident as your shoulders hike up to your ears. without warning, ultra magnus feels a shift in weight on the edge of his desk and next thing he knows, there you go, sitting on the very edge with your legs crossed and dangling directly next to his neatly arranged papers. ultra magnus and his entire frame still as his optics bore into yours, and then back to the stack of papers, and then back to you. “relax. i’m not going to knock them over,” he glances at you once more, irritation arising. 

“did you come here to ridicule me, y/n?” he asks slowly. unfazed by his solemnity, your grin widens. 

“no. the exact opposite actually,” you begin, leaning on your arm to get more comfortable in the space. “what’s the name of that game you taught me?” you inquired, aimlessly wandering to get the cogs turning in your head to remember the name of your precious game. 

“tadek?” magnus replies plainly. your eyes glint at the familiarity of the name. 

“yes! that’s it. let’s play it.” 

“i don’t think i can, y/n.”

“what? why not? you’re always busy magnus, and i’m bored,” you retort, whispering the last part to yourself— but it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by ultra magnus. “a couple of games and then you can go back to being your boring self at this desk.” you were fairly shocked to learn that ultra magnus learned how to play a game throughout the years in his considerable life span. ultra magnus can’t even utter the word fun without internally stalling and ultimately butchering up its pronunciation. upon your request, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, fingers hovering over the keys of his digital notepad. he couldn’t seem to concentrate at the current task at hand with your persistence, making casual conversation, and your complete unconcern with the deadlines looming over his helm. 

“so are you going to play a few games?” your smile broadens, he always falls for this tactic, it's inevitable. he can never say no to you. ultra magnus drags a servo down his faceplate, carefully considering. 

“perhaps a couple games wouldn’t hurt my schedule,” he says begrudgingly, falsely displaying his exasperation. he was actually rather relieved that you had come along to stick a bookmark in his list of a billion things to do. you hum in satisfaction as you make your way across his office to fish for the games and its contents. (ultra magnus took 80 years just to clear his desk btw) setting the square box down, you unload everything and set up as quickly as possible. 

—

the game of tadek was strenuous, building structures with tiles to perfectly resemble a tower was difficult but was easily fun beyond that aspect. each move by magnus was calculated, each strategy you utilized countered with precision— you were starting to question if he was taking this too seriously (per usual). you drum your fingertips on the edge of the desk, resting the side of your head in the palm of your hand. drawing to a conclusion, your hand reaches to grab a colored tile. 

“are you sure?” ultra magnus blurts out. eyeing him you pause. 

“what? now you’re making me nervous.” you say as a subtle grin tugs at the corner of his derma. “don’t make me come over there and pull you out that armor.” 

he stopped smiling. 

“are YOU sure?” you jeered, lowering your voice to sound like the enforcer of the tyrest accord sitting right in front of you. ultra magnus blatantly ignoring your mockery as he placed his next tile. soon enough, it was your turn, gazing upon the selection your brows burrow in thought. you settle on the neon pink one, gently setting it on top of your growing tower. blue holographic light ignites, engulfing your structure. your eyes widened at your victory, laughing triumphantly. 

“finally! i beat you!” 

“i let you win,” ultra magnus adds. you gape at him.

“no you didn’t…” the smallest chuckle escapes his throat as he stands from his chair, collecting the pieces to place back into its respected spot. “did you really?” you squint at him. he expressed no indication of whether he did or not— “i appreciate the time you chose to spend with me. it was entertaining,” he spoke formally, placing the cover back over the box. 

“see? it was fun,” you emphasize the word fun on your tongue. “ i’ll be back again soon!”

“i’m afraid i have important work to finish y/n… please do not come back…”

[writeyouin]

Can I request a thing with tfp Optimus?

Like Optimus is the readers guardian, and they're introducing him to things like Star Wars, Marvel, or things like that?

I love your content!!! ❤️

- 🌼

Transformers Prime Reader Insert – Guardian

A/N - Just a little drabble while I get some of my thoughts in order

Warnings - None

Rating - K+

Optimus never saw himself becoming attached to any particular human. He didn't have the time to look after anyone like Bumblebee with Raf or Arcee with Jack. Yet, sometimes fate made decisions and Optimus wasn't sure whether you needed him, or he needed you.

You weren't as young as the children, yet you still seemed young to him. Maybe it was just your general attitude and love of life.

You found time for fun but also knew when it was time to buckle down and work.

All the same, despite Optimus' attachment to you, he feels guilty that he doesn't have a lot of time for you.

Yet, you never complain, completely understanding of his cause.

But sometimes, you seem so lost and lonely. It's like you need more peers, but haven't found those willing to laugh with you. Maybe that was why you had made the Autobots your surrogate family.

It was on a quiet night in the base when Optimus found you watching a midnight run of the Star Wars films.

He approached you and decided that tonight was a good night to spend some time with you.

As he approached, he noticed you making up your own words that somewhat matched the story. You had the high ground and Anakin was a burning marshmallow.

"Good evening, (Y/N)," Optimus greets you, sincere as usual.

You mute the film to talk with him. He tells you not to stop on his account.

Feeling like continuing the film would be rude, you offer to help him work.

Optimus shakes his helm. Tonight he will find time for you. He asks to join you. Your eyes light up, but instead of continuing the film, you start a new one from the beginning, using an old projector Raf re-purposed to flash the film onto the large wall so Optimus will be able to enjoy it properly.

You start with Iron Man and talk through the whole film, glad to have someone to infodump to. Optimus enjoys the way you light up far more than the actual film. You are happy, and because of that so is he.

He will try to do this more often with you.

[robolvrr]

late night adventures  ⁠`⁠๑🍻

swerve x gn! human bartender headcanons /

i need more of this adorable little guy.

sfw / suggestive under the cut.

"wait a minute. you gotta go to academy to make drinks?!"

you end up on the lost light completely by convenience. sure, cybertronians haven't exactly gotten the best reputation - a waging war following wherever they migrated wasn't pleasing for the planets caught in between a billion years of conflict. still, you're tired of working in a shitty bar with shitty customers and shitty pay.

while brainstorm first suggested to find a way to mass displace you (which you tend to just tune out his plans because he makes zero sense), the crew has settled on just making you a mech suit. it's not boxy, fitted for your frame. you don't have a helmet on because the mechs like to look at you.

kind of like a zoo animal exhibit to be honest. look, the alien in the tin can can speak!

you quickly develop some favorites. tailgate is adorable and cyclonus is terrifying but warms up to you over a few months. rewind is chatty. rodimus is.. rodimus. whirl has his charm and you love to hear skids ramble.

but who you really click with?

swerve.

my god he is OBSESSED. a human? on board? in his lifetime? at HIS bar?

it's even better once he learns you share interests.

you talk about your experience as a bar tender and yap his audials until he's melting. he loves it though.

he finds it interesting all the personal touches humanity tends to do for drinks.

like little fruits in fancy cups? burning a glass just for the fun of it?

"do you ever experiment with drinks?"

"well, yeah. to an extent."

"huh. do your customers sometimes offline for a lil?"

"... no honey i don't think they ever have."

please help him convince ultra magnus to include their trades for wines and spirits.

sometimes he lets you get behind the bar top.

he gets posted at your side and gushes like a goof. he finds the way you're able to talk and make drinks very, very impressive.

he learns to make drinks for you over time.

the first time you kind of gag and he freaks out, but you just end up patting his helm and choking out it's alright, he just gave his drink some extra kick.

HOOO. that is LIQUOR sir.

"what's wrong, starshine? feeling nervous?"

so. swerve isn't much of a flirt funnily enough. mechs laugh at his jokes and he's gotten some great connections, but not nearly the time to actually go out of his way (or shell) to banter like that.

it doesn't help that not a lot take him seriously. :(

when you talk to him about the culture of bartending, you joke about whether or not he had to sweet-talk his frequenters for tips and such.

he looks so confused.

"huh? why would i? you come to a bar to.. drink. right?"

oh boy.

you laugh though pat his shoulder when he gives that tiny pout of his. and you have the brilliant idea to show him what you mean.

it turns into a bet. if you can casanova the armor of em you win! and he'll get to see you in your full element. that means one night, human bartending - which drags in a HUGE crowd.

swerve bumps into mech after mech, shooting a lazy set of finger guns before knocking his way up to the bar. why was it never this busy when he was tending?

maybe he should hire the human. they certainly got some flair. for business purposes, of course. not like he's been thinking about them in the middle of the night staring up at the ceiling still as a statue. that would be weird. and creepy.

is it hot in here? it's definitely hot.

he eases himself on a stool. it feels funny being on the receiving end for once.

imagine his surprise when he spots you effortlessly zipping around, making drinks and finding him in the crowd! that look in your smaller optics sparkle and he feels the ship shift. is he having a spark attack? maybe premature crisis.

"hiya, handsome. the regular?"

he doesn't even look down at the glass you set before him, but it's his favorite engex mix and you remember, you remember what he likes. frag. you are a real sparkthrob.

"haha, already starting with the show, huh? you're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna prove your point."

it doesn't take a detective to sense how nervous he sounds. or an magnifying glass, because his gaze is a little focused on where your aft would be. your mech suit is real nice. there's orange and yellow accents, dark coal mesh barely visible between rivets of armor.

sometimes in the shower he thinks about how you'd look as a cybertonian. you'd probably be just as hot.

hot galaxy babe. ha. so he's a hopeless romantic and a xenophile.

"you're my favorite customer, swervey. just admit it feels nice to be pampered. big, hard-working mech deserves a little treat now and then."

then you toss that impish look over your shoulder, shaking two steel mixers together. the motion is standard. up, down, up down, up down, shake shake.

your grip is firm and confident on the equipment. your fingers can't really fit fully around the circumference.

he gulps.

"y-you're not slick. nuh-uh-uh. takes a lot more than saucy words from a pretty thing to get this motor running."

"oh. so you'd like me to demonstrate? i am a hands-on learner."

"this kind of talk wouldn't fly around here for long, sweetspark. makes me kind of jealous - you doing this for all the crew? cause i gotta tell you, there's some reaaaal bastards--"

thank primus it's loud in here. you don't help you know, tipping over the bar with a wry grin.

something pops into his mouth. an energon cube. raw.

"then it's good i just like teasing you."

you slide down about four drinks along the metallic table. swerve wonders if love at first sight is truly like the movies.

"tell you what. these drinks? on the house. and if you stick around.. i can teach you some chemistry outside of just making a damned good cocktail."

steam whistles out his vents.

..........

yeah. you won.